#i swear this is intended to be a fluffy chapter

[hardlypartying]

how filthy can i make the smut before i get embarrassed?

chapter 17 is currently at 8k words and 7k of that is just riara fucking

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 8

Source for pic

Firestarter 8 🔞

Word Count: 4392

Aditional warning for this chapter: There is a scene that is EXPLICIT NSFW. I will mark it with the 🔞 sign so you can skip it if you want. Having said this, your internet experience is your own and you should be acountable for it. You've been warned, read at your own discretion. Thank you!

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: We took a lot of time to get here, so, for now, enjoy the fluffiness of this chapter, please! 🥰

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Previous Chapter 🔞 | | |Next Chapter|

The sun hits you in the eyes and you stir. The breeze feels warm against the bare skin of your arms. As you take a deep breath, you are immediately flooded by Ace’s scent. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck and squeeze your arms tighter around him.

He must’ve already been awake because you sense a kiss on your head. “Morning, beautiful.”

You can’t stop smiling and blushing, but you open your eyes to stare at him. “Hi.” He’s also smiling at you and he lowers his head to kiss you on the lips. “You must be so sore.” You murmur, because you both slept on the floor, but he held you against him and forced you to use him as a pillow.

“No. This was the best sleep of my life.”

“Stop being cute.” You say with a smile.

“Can’t. You rubbed your ‘cute’ all over me yesterday.” That elicits a chuckle and soon you're both laughing.

You won’t deny it. Last night was heaven. You used up all the condoms Ace had in his wallet, you cuddled under the stars and made silly promises of always wanting to be with each other. You shared favourite foods, colours, music and movies and your connection is so real that it’s like you have known him your whole life and never spent a day apart from him. 

With the light of day you were afraid that this might all have been a dream and that you would doubt Ace’s intentions, after all, he won the chase, he got you.

Yet, he’s still looking at you as if you were the only important thing on the planet. He’s holding you so tight one might think you were about to slip down the mountain. And he keeps stealing kisses from your lips as if he’s afraid you won’t return them. 

“Maybe we should get going.” You murmur while glancing at his wristwatch. “I’m sure Shanks already realised what happened, but I don’t want to be late to help him.”

Ace hums and shifts, positioning you on the floor and entwining his legs with yours so he can hover over you. “Five more minutes so I can properly kiss you good morning.”

You smile and nod, closing your eyes and waiting for his kiss, but he swiftly disappears in the middle of your thighs and you gasp. “Ace!”

“I didn’t specify which lips I wanted to kiss.” Comes his muffled response and you arch your back against his touch. Ten more minutes won’t make much of a difference, right?

-*-

You feel a little silly dressed only in your pyjamas, since it's daytime now, and Ace fishes out another one of his used t-shirts from the backseat. 

“Do you have an unending pile of clothes there?” You chuckle and put on the oversized tee over your pyjama, tying a knot in the back to make it shorter. 

He shrugs and gives you another kiss. “I just keep taking them off and they end up in the backseat. Sorry if it's a bit smelly.” He grimaces. “But, damn, you do make my shirts look sexy.”

Giggling you open the door and are about to enter when Ace sets his hands on your hips to help you up. If that gesture made your toes curl before, now it almost makes you roll your eyes in pleasure. “Ace!” You stare at him from inside the car. 

“I can't help it. Your hips are like a magnet to my hands.” He goes for another quick peck, but you turn in the seat and pull him by the neck, opening your legs and letting him nestle against you for an open-mouthed kiss. 

He grunts into you as he pulls away. “Stop that, Firestarter, I don't have any more condoms.” You smirk as he pulls away from you and goes around the jeep to get into the driver's seat. “You wanna kill me?”

He's obviously aroused. 

But so are you. 

So you try to get your mind out of the gutter as you choose a song on the radio and he drives. The mood for the ride this time is way different than before. You are sitting on top of the world. 

And Ace is right there with you. 

He keeps placing his hand on your thigh when it's not needed on the stick, and you can't stop grinning. You have such warmth inside your chest that you're almost afraid you'll combust. 

You're happy. So happy. You don't actually remember feeling like this. 

Ever. 

You feel the need to tell him how much he means to you, to let him know that, in just a short span of days - that felt like an eternity because you were always around him or thinking about him - you've fallen deeply and madly in love. You've come to the realisation that you simply can't - and don't want to - live without him. 

But you're afraid to let him know that already. It's too much for too little time and he's not used to relationships. You don't want to scare him. Even though you're dying to know if what he feels for you is as intense as what you feel for him. 

Eventually Ace pulls over at Shanks’ house and you both leave the jeep. Ace says he only has to be at the fire station after lunch so he'll help you and Shanks with chores and you're happy about that decision. 

But Shanks doesn't seem too happy. 

“Morning, dad!” You greet with a small wave, but the redhead staring at you from the top of the porch only hums and drinks coffee from his mug. 

“Good morning Sh-... Sir.” Ace says respectfully and you stifle a giggle. Why is he being so formal around your father?

“Ace is helping us with chores, is that alright?” 

He hums again as a response and you and Ace climb the stairs together. Raising an eyebrow at your father, you step inside the threshold ready for a cup of coffee yourself. You'd also like a bath, but that will have to wait until after the chores. 

Ace is about to follow you inside when Shanks steps in front of him, giving him a menacing stare and a scowl.

“Dad!” You growl from inside the house. “What are you doing?”

Shanks turns his head your way and finally smiles at you. “Go on inside, bug, I'm just going to have a quick chat with Ace.”

What now? You grumble and turn to go into the kitchen but, as soon as your dad turns, you return to eavesdrop. 

“Portgas, explain.”

“Sir, I… what am I supposed to explain? We talked and cleared the air between us. We're fine now.” Ace seems nervous. 

“You talked?”

“Uh… I… we… uh…” You facepalm and groan internally. 

“You defiled my daughter, scoundrel!”

Why is your father speaking like he's a man from the 18th century? 

“What? Shanks?!”

“It's ‘sir’ for you. It will be ‘sir’ for the rest of your life. And you've just lost your privilege to coffee.”

“Ah, Sh-... Sir! I really need coffee.”

Shaking your head you can’t help but think that your father is overdoing it.

“Why do you need coffee? Stayed up all night?” He curses and exhales deeply. “Ace, you better not hurt my baby girl. You see the smile she walked in here with today? You better keep her smiling like that.”

Sighing at your father’s protectiveness, you turn to go back to the kitchen. 

“I intend to keep that smile on her face, Sir. Every day.” 

The softness with which Ace delivered the words makes you melt and sigh again as you pace into the kitchen and take out two coffee mugs. Filling them to the brim and snatching the plate of pancakes your dad cooked for breakfast, you return to the porch and set the items on the balcony. 

“Dad, stop trying to act mean.” You drag Ace to a chair and sit next to him, handing him one of the coffee mugs. He stares at Shanks who simply sighs and enters the house again. 

With a heavy sigh, Ace takes a huge gulp of the coffee and you knit your eyebrows together. “Don't let him bully you, Ace. He's just trying to be mean.”

“He's right, though.”

“About what?” The coffee tastes delicious and you hum into the mug in delight. 

“About warning me.” He scratches the back of his head and sets the mug down again. “I'm no good.” A sigh escapes his lips as he locks eyes with you. “Look at you, you deserve so much better than me…”

Oh, you are definitely going to kill Shanks. But first, you need to put a smile back on Ace's face. Getting up from your chair and sitting on his lap, you cup his cheeks with your hands and force him to look at you. 

“You silly, silly man. You're perfect for me. You're all I've ever wanted and I've never been happier. Don't doubt yourself. You're enough!” Leaning down, you rub your nose against his in an affectionate manner. “More than enough, actually, and you're all mine.”

That seems to do the trick because his cheeky smile is back on his freckled face and he circles your body with his arms, one of his big hands grabbing your butt cheek as he leans in to claim your lips and you giggle into his mouth. 

“Hmm, hmm.” Shanks clears his throat and Ace immediately parts from you, raising his hands in the air and looking at Shanks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, come on!” You whine. “Dad, get used to this and stop being mean to Ace.”

“Get off me, Firestarter.” Ace whispers without breaking eye contact with Shanks. “He looks pissed.”

Eventually you lay the groundwork for a semblance of peace between both men, and you get to work helping your father. Shanks asks Ace to do chores on the other side of the property so you don't get distracted and he's right in doing that, because both times you pass by Ace on your way to get something, you two lose yourselves in kisses and embraces, barely getting any work done. 

Lunchtime approaches quickly, and the morning chores are done. Ace needs to get home to shower because he has to be at the fire station in the afternoon and you are taking your time to say goodbye to him, by his jeep. 

“Thanks for all the help, cowboy.” A sultry whisper escapes your lips as you lean your back against the jeep’s door, your hand lingering on his chest in a soft caress. 

His smile mimics yours as he tilts his hat back. That adorable cowboy hat he wears in the sun. His skin is sweaty and glistening from the sun and his freckles make you weak in the knees. Pressing his body against yours, he lets his fingers caress the side of your body before settling on your hip, his thumb slowly circling your hip bone. 

“Anytime, anywhere.” You chuckle as he leans in, his teeth nibbling your lower lip before his tongue swipes to ease the sting. Closing your eyes, you moan into his touch and he uses it as a cue to take your lips in a gentle kiss. “Come shower with me.” He whispers against your ear, kissing your skin with his hot breath, a veiled promise of what's to come, should you accept. 

Tempting. So tempting. 

“Can't.” You exhale. “Shanks is waiting for me.” He grunts and that low vibrato makes your skin perk up with goosebumps. “Later?”

His warm hands and nimble fingers keep caressing you, making promises he intends to keep and you feel your mind fog up with pleasure and yearning. 

“Want to come by the station?”

“Hmm, hmm.” You mumble against his lips. “Will you be alone?”

“Yeah, everyone will be at the Jubilee.”

“Perfect.”

Your arms circle his neck and you pull him down for a final desperate kiss. “I gotta go.” 

“Me too.” He grunts and you groan but neither of you moves to actually leave. None of you wants to part and stop kissing. Not when it feels this good, when it feels like you're two halves of a whole and you're finally reunited. 

“Lunch is getting cold!”

The yell coming from the porch makes Ace pull away from you as if you suddenly caught fire and you can't stop a hearty laugh at the respect he holds for your father. 

“You should go.” He says without looking back at Shanks, and you nod, letting go of his neck, but nor before laying another peck on his lips. 

“See you later.”

-*-

The first thing you do after having lunch and taking a well-deserved shower, is text Nami. You send her exactly three words and wait: He is good! 

Giggling, you pick up the call you knew she was going to make immediately and tell her what happened. You're so happy that you need to share the news. 

-*-

Shanks corners you and tries to have a conversation about sexual responsibility and safety during sex and your eyes almost roll out of their sockets once he starts. 

“Dad, are you serious? I was going to get married by the end of the year! I'm 25 years old! You can't expect me to be sexually innocent, right?”

Shanks’ blush rivals the colour of his hair and you are quite sure it's a reflection of the blush on your own cheeks. Grunting and turning away from you, seemingly occupied with packing some fruit and water before he leaves for the Jubilee, he adds: “Ace is a good kid, Bug. I told you that. And he told me his intentions towards you come from real feelings, not just to pass the time.”

Softening your gaze, you find yourself smiling. So that's what the two of them were talking about yesterday before you left the house. The part of their discussion you missed. 

“I know you're in good hands with him, but I worry…” Shanks closes his eyes as he grabs his hat. Before leaving, his eyes search yours and they seem a bit sad. “I made him promise me he wouldn't break your heart. So you let me know if he does, okay, bug? See you later, sweetie.”

“Thank you, daddy.” Your voice is merely a whisper. 

-*-

As promised, after your father leaves and you get ready, you meet Ace by the fire station. Heart already beating out of compass, lips tingling with excitement and a smile that doesn't leave your mouth. 

You know he will be crazy about you no matter what you wear, but you can't help but dress a bit provocatively just to see his reaction. Using the thigh-high black socks again, you pair them with a cute little dress, half-expecting him to take in the infinite possibilities of easier access. 

This time you use the doorbell, yet he's as fast as he was the first time around and in seconds he's opening the door with a huge grin. 

“Oh, look! My food order arrived! I was starving!” You're about to chuckle at his silliness when he hooks his arms under your butt to get you to straddle his lap, and you oblige. Your laughter gets lost within his mouth because he's already claiming your lips on his with a fiery, passionate kiss. 

It's as electrifying as the first kiss you shared. In fact, all kisses with Ace seem to leave behind a trail of fire that consumes you. It starts somewhere around your belly and its flames lick and climb and spread all over your body, leaving you numb, sweaty and aching for more. 

He pulls a deep moan from inside you with his tongue as he deepens the kiss and you tug at his hair. Desperate fingers find purchase in his dark locks, trying to ground yourself to the here and now because you're already feeling yourself beginning to drift away in the throes of pleasure. 

“Fuck, I've missed you.” He breaks the kiss with a raspy voice as he sits you on the back of the couch, hands gripping you tightly and digits protruding the skin. His eyes gobble you up and he almost has to pick up his jaw from the floor as he finally takes you in. “Are you trying to kill me, Firestarter?”

Your legs find purchase against the couch, hands lazily draped over his shoulders and he deems you safe enough to loosen his hold on you. A guttural grunt makes his lips tremble as he runs his hands over your legs and bare thighs. 

Giggling, your fingers play with his hair as you lock eyes with him and hit him with your best sultry voice. “Not kill, no. But, perhaps, hinder you enough to take you aback.” Another giggle. “Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah, it is.”

🔞 EXPLICIT NSFW PART - READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION 🔞

His warm hand finds its way to the inside of your thighs, his digits exploring further and finding you already wet and wanting, the thin cloth of your panties barely holding anything back. 

“You're already this wet for me, baby?” He coos in your ear and you whine at the sensation his hot touch creates. “Did you think about me as you were getting dressed?” He lays soft kisses along your neck and collarbone and you find it quite hard to concentrate on his questions. 

“Hmm, hmm.” It's all you can manage as he pulls the wet cloth aside and drags two fingers on your folds, spreading your slickness. 

“What was that?” His tongue teases your earlobe at the same time as his thumb does the same to your clit, and all the sane thoughts you had left in your mind go out the window. “I need a verbal answer, Firestarter. Can you do that?”

No. No, you can't. Because he's thrusting his fingers inside of you and biting at every bit of exposed skin on your upper body, and he's so warm and hot that it's like he's pure fire. And by all the gods, you don't mind burning away into ashes if it feels this good. 

“I… Hmm, hmm. Yes, sure, yeah.” You manage to croak between sighs and mewls and the chuckle he releases against your neck makes his lips vibrate and elicit a very shameless moan. 

“Are you still here with me?” He claims your lips again, trying to pull you back from the pleasurable place you drifted onto. Unbeknownst to him that such an act only pushes you further. 

“Ace…” You whimper. How is it that with a few kisses and touches he has already reduced you to a whimpering, moaning mess, already on the verge of begging for him. 

“It's okay baby, I got you.”

That sentence tells you he's almost done with his teasing and you help him get rid of his shorts so he can open the wrapper to the condom. Yet, before he does, you jump down from your perch and fall on your knees in front of him, eager to taste him as you have yet to try. Locking eyes with him, you catch his mischievous glimmer, reading your intentions full well.

Your lips tingle with excitement at the prospect of having him in your mouth, and you eagerly tug down his boxers and also get rid of your panties while you’re at it. “Fuck.” He mutters as you bite your lower lip, practically salivating at the sight before you. Using the precum gathered at his tip, you lather his length with your tongue as he releases a groan and places his hand on your head, fingers tangling around your hair for purchase. 

He's definitely bigger than what you were used to, but you love a challenge. Hollowing your cheeks, you suck around him with one hand fondling his balls and the other one stroking his shaft. The sounds leaving his lips are driving you insane and you can't help but release one of your hands from him so you can put some pressure on your clit that's throbbing incessantly. 

That action elicits a deep moan from you and Ace pulls out of your mouth before he loses control. “Ah, you're so good to me.” His praises leave you blushing. “Get up, baby.” He whispers as he finishes putting on the condom. 

Ace removes the straps from your dress so he can pull it down and free your tits, suckling and biting on the nipples until you’re panting against his ear. “Ace! I need you right now, please, please!”

“There you go begging for me, baby. You know that drives me insane.” He grunts as he turns you and bends you over the back of the couch, spreading your legs with one swift motion. “You want me? How badly do you want me?” He teases the tip against your folds, letting it drag towards your clit and you arch your back to him. His hand slithers and grabs your boob, squeezing it and pinching the nipple as he aligns himself with your entry, just waiting for your answer. 

“I want you so much, Ace. I can't stop thinking about you inside me and-... Mmmm, just like that.” You gasp as your nails dig into the plushness of the couch. He's inserting himself tantalisingly slowly and you can feel your walls stretching and accommodating him, welcoming him inside. 

“So tight…” He grunts and buries his head in the crook of your neck, as you're still arching back. “So perfect.” As he finally bottoms out, the two of you moan in unison, taking shallow breaths. He slides his hand along your spine, from bottom to the top and pushes you gently forward by the nape, so you return to a bent position. Then he places both hands on your hips and starts to thrust relentlessly. 

The burn spreads and scorches and extends its fiery tendrils to parts of you you barely even realised were there. He's so deep within you that it almost hurts, but instead, it's a pressure that feels good and keeps building and intensifying, pulling moan after moan from your lips. “That's it, baby, scream for me, we're all alone.” He assures you. 

“God, Ace! I'm almost… Mmm… Ace!”

You can feel his thrusts getting more and more erratic, his pacing increasing and yet you still fall off that ledge before him when a feeling of numbness and overpowering burn courses through you. A panting, gasping moan leaves your lips in shallow breaths and Ace’s arm circles your waist, pulling you towards him, firmly, tightly as his release follows yours with a deep grunt, and his head collapses forward, against your shoulder. 

You're breathing in tandem. Shallow, erratic breaths that leave you lightheaded. Or perhaps those are only the effects of the earth-shattering orgasm he just gave you. Whatever it is, you're both recovering. Somehow he recovers faster and, still buried within you, scatters sloppy kisses on your back and shoulders.

“You’re so perfect, so, so perfect.” A chuckle leaves your lips followed by a breathy whine when he pulls out of you. He’s still holding you tightly against him and his hand travels from your waist to your neck and he pressures near your jaw to tilt your head to the side and back so he can claim your lips. “Fucking perfect.” He exhales after your short kiss.

-*- 🔞 END OF EXPLICIT NSFW PART 🔞 -*-

“Told you that one was the first to die!” You point at the screen with a victorious shout as the blonde girl gets slashed in the first ten minutes of the horror movie. “I should've made a bet!”

Snuggling closer, you steal a kiss from Ace's lips. He smiles as his arms circle tighter around you. The loveseat that the other night seemed too small for both of you, now has plenty of space since you're lying on top of Ace. 

Your boyfriend? 

You haven't labelled it, but he did say he wanted to try a serious relationship. Whatever he is, he makes you happy. Your heart keeps swelling at the tiniest things he does for you. It's so endearing the way he circles his fingers in your hair, or the way he nudges his nose against yours when you're absorbed in the movie. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks as his stomach growls and that is another thing you have come to expect of Ace. He's always hungry. 

“I could eat.”

“I don't think there are many takeouts open during Jubilee, I think we might have to settle for pizza again.” He mumbles, half-annoyed. “One of these days I need to take you to a proper fancy restaurant. How about that?”

Giggling, you nod as he starts to dial the pizza place's number. “Sounds nice.”

After he places the order, you continue watching the movie, but Ace keeps distracting you with feather-like touches and cheeky kisses and you're bordering on a weird limbo between sleep and wakefulness. 

You register the faraway sound of the doorbell, but Ace lifts you up very slowly, settling you back down on the couch and you keep your eyes closed, being lulled by the lingering smell of Ace around you and, oddly enough, the screaming sounds of the movie. 

Just like the first time you visited, Deuce takes it upon himself to enter the day room and see which girl Ace is with this time. You hear them as if they are very far away. 

“I can't believe you, Ace. She was perfect for you, if you have another one of those bimbos in there with you, I swear-... Oh.”

He must've seen your sleeping form on the couch, especially since you sense Ace approaching and fixing your skirt, which might've been riding up. He then moves away and growls with a whisper. “I told you to beat it, man! Nosy bastard.”

“Well you're right. I'm nosy. But I'm proud of you. She is the one, hey?” Ace’s chuckle is very warm and you sigh with a deep inhale. “But she's freaking hot, I don't know why she wants anything to do with you and-...”

“Enough, enough. Beat it.”

You still hear their whispered voices moving away. Ace sits down near you again, scooping you up in his arms and laying a sweet kiss on your forehead. “You're the one, alright.”

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I did the thing guys

I did another CHAPTER GUYS

I DID IT

Gods I love being able to write on an actual computer again. My glorified typewriter. So happy.

So here we are, chapter two!!!!

My poor socially awkward lil swordsman bb I lub hims

Strawhat Stowaway

Chapter 2

Ch. 1 link

Little bit of hurt/comfort, slow burn, silly, fluffy, will be trigger warnings in later chapters but not this one

Wordcount: 3.2k Taglist thingy that I just had to edit in because I forgot I'm so sorry: @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kawennote09

After an alcohol drenched Halloween party at your friends' dorm, you wake up to find yourself in a strange place. This might not be quite as alarming...if not for the fact that it's an entirely different world, enshrouded with pirates and strange magic.

♬♫ Desperate Guy - The Fratellis ♫♬

Hear me now, hear me now, there’s nothing very much I wouldn’t do to catch your eye

And you can’t see me now, see me now, there’s just so many things I’m haunted by

He heard Nami offering to loan you a change of clothes as he crossed the deck, but that was drowned out by your words from minutes earlier, still echoing around Zoro’s head; your cheeky smirk while your eyes passed over him, blatantly checking him out.

I’d settle for a date.

Zoro had been on his own for a few years before meeting Luffy. He’d had a handful of one night stands, but this was new. You had appeared out of nowhere, less than an hour ago, and now you were flirting with him—and all he had managed to do in response was stare at you and stammer like an idiot.

You had to be joking.

You were probably joking. You seemed like the type, already had been joking around a little about the gravity of your situation, taking it in stride instead of shutting down in fear and defeat. That was pretty cool in itself. You definitely had resolve.

And you seemed pretty smart. And pretty hot—

“God dammit,” he grumbled under his breath, rolled his eyes at himself as he entered the small cabin with the hammock stretched across from one wall to the other. He pulled his t-shirt off a little more aggressively than he intended and tossed it at the hammock, digging through his belongings for a new one. He had to get a hold of himself; you had made one little comment and he was acting like an idiot.

“…seem to be taking this pretty well.”

“I mean, I can’t really do anything about it if I don’t even know how I got here.” He glanced sharply toward the doorway when he heard your and Nami’s voices drawing nearer, crossing the deck as he pulled out a black shirt and red haramaki. “And I’ve never been on a ship before, so that’s pretty cool once you get past the existential dread.” You glanced through the doorframe as you were passing by with Nami, meeting his eyes for a moment, and he was pretty sure you smirked again and glanced across his shirtless torso before disappearing past the view of the doorframe. “And I’m not complaining about the views, either.”

Yeah, you had definitely smirked again.

The swordsman could do little more for a long moment than stand there staring at the doorframe, frozen in place, gritting his teeth and twitching slightly. It was like you were intentionally trying to get him flustered—and he had to growl a few swears under his breath as he shook out his shirt and pulled it over his head, because damn it if it wasn’t working.

“Hey, Zoro!”

Zoro jolted in alarm halfway through straightening his haramaki, jerking his head to look over his shoulder at Luffy.

Hanging upside down in the doorframe, presumably by his feet from the deck above, given he was holding his straw hat in place with both hands.”Hey, how come you’re red?”

“I’m not red,” he said through his teeth, adjusting his waistband.

“Uh…yeah you are,” said Luffy slowly, tilting his head.

Zoro rolled his eyes. “The hell do you want?”

“Oh, yeah—what’s the deal with the stowaway?” Easily distracted as ever, Luffy launched into a tirade of excitable questions. “Where’d she come from? Did you talk her into joining the crew yet?”

“Yeah,” Zoro scoffed, fixing his swords in place at his hip. “Crew therapist.”

“Whoa, seriously? That’s great!”

Zoro stared at the self-proclaimed captain for a long moment, raising an eyebrow at him. “That…that was joke.”

“Aww….” Luffy frowned, swinging back and forth in the doorframe like some strange clock pendulum. His frown turned thoughtful after a few seconds. “What’s a therapist do, anyway?”

“Give advice for money, apparently.”

“Sounds weird.” He finally dropped down, flipping over to land on his feet in the doorway and straightening his hat before tucking his hands behind his neck. “Could be useful, though. Good for morale.” He gave a resolute nod with that brief assessment, hitting his fist into his opposite palm. “We’re recruiting her.”

Zoro just gave a sigh and shook his head in borderline disbelief—though only borderline, because this was Luffy, and he had already come to expect this level of childlike impulsiveness out of him. He turned to the side to move past Luffy in the doorframe. “Good luck with that.”

Though there really wasn’t much else you could do right now—no one had any idea how you had ended up on the ship, and there was at the present no way for you to get back to where you came from. You were, in a word, stuck.

“Oh, come on, you have to help, too.” Zoro rolled his eyes as Luffy clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re my first mate! And besides, you’ve talked to her more than anyone else.” Luffy nodded as they reached the deck railing, hopping up to sit there. “That’s your first official assignment as my first mate—recruiting a crew therapist.”

“Yeah. Sure thing, ‘Captain.’”

There was really no point in telling Luffy that they weren’t a crew—it fell on deaf ears. Zoro really didn’t have any major issue following him at this point; Luffy had more than proven himself an able fighter against both Buggy and Kuro; had, even if half of it was purely luck, managed to procure them a ship, and protect said ship against a Marine vice admiral. Even if his methods weren’t exactly conventional…they had worked. No one could deny that.

But it was a little more of a stretch to recruit you, when it was pretty clear that you didn’t even want to be there.

And yet you seemed pretty cozy with both Nami and Usopp when you emerged back onto the deck with them, the three of you looking at some rectangular device in your hand. The gaudy costume tricorne hat you had been wearing when you showed up was now on top of Usopp’s head, and you had changed into a black patterned tank top and dark shorts, and at this point Zoro was just doing his damnedest not to even look at you.

“…makes calls, plays music, takes pictures,” you were saying, as the other two stared over your shoulders at the device in clear bafflement. “You really don’t have anything like this here?”

“Den den mushi, but all they do is make calls,” said Nami. “But this thing is—” She shook her head, laughing. “This is weird.”

“Hey, can I—?” said Usopp, holding his hand out, and you shrugged and handed it off to him. He laughed and pushed himself between Luffy and Zoro at the railing. “You guys gotta see this, it’s a cell phone. Hang on, hang on—”

Zoro looked over at the device, his brow furrowing as Usopp tapped at it—and then all three of their faces appeared on the front of it.

“What the f—?”

“Whoa…” Luffy waved his hand in front of it, and the picture on the device mimicked him perfectly. “That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, and you touch this, and…” Usopp tapped a circle toward the bottom of the device. “And it makes it into a picture—”

It—how—?!” Luffy grabbed it from Usopp, gawking at the picture of the three of them. He looked between it and Usopp and Zoro, eyes wide as saucers. "It—it just—? So cool—”

“Yeah, and it saves it, look…”

Usopp touched the device, pulling his index finger across it, and the picture changed to one of him, you, and Nami, with Usopp openly gawking and Nami staring at you in alarm while you seemed to be giggling at their shock. Zoro tilted his head a little as Usopp went on scrolling through pictures, tuning out his explanation that it operated via some weird otherworldly magic called a “battery.” The majority of the pictures seemed to be of you, or of you with other people, maybe family and friends. There were quite a few of you with a younger girl that resembled you a great deal, and just as Zoro had opened his mouth to ask about it, he abruptly found himself unable to form any words at all at the sight of the next picture.

And barely managed to catch the device when Usopp dropped it in equal shock—and barely caught Luffy by the back of his shirt when he nearly fell backwards over the railing.

There was no denying at all that Zoro was more than a little red in the face now—why the hell were there pictures of you naked in the thing?

You and Nami exchanged a glance as Zoro stared off to the side and held the phone out at you, mumbling some incoherent apology that was somewhere between sorry and didn’t know. You made a weird sort of strangled squeak in your throat when you glanced at the screen, and Nami gave a snort of laughter as you shoved it back in your pocket.

Luffy recovered a great deal more quickly, turning and flopping over the railing. “Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

“What else is new,” Nami commented.

Down on the docks below, Luffy set immediately to his plans to recruit you onto the crew, explaining how they definitely needed a crew therapist for the sake of keeping up morale on long journeys, and you seemed more amused than anything at his antics. “What we really need is a musician, a pirate ship has to have a few good musicians. Can you play music?”

“Well, I played the flute in band when I was in high school,” you said, frowning a little.

“Perfect! Have you got one?”

“Ah…didn’t think to pack one before I got isekai’d into this shit-show, sorry.”

He tilted his head like a curious puppy. “Ise-what?”

“N…never mind,” you said, shaking your head. “Not important.”

Still, he was undeterred, practically buzzing with questions—what was high school, how did this “band” thing work, sports games, what sports? Soccer? As you explained the basics of the sport, also explaining that you weren’t sure because you didn’t exactly play it yourself and Usopp chimed in that he was kind of an expert at it, Zoro lingered behind the three of you, still trying to get the mental image of you sans clothes out of his head, to absolutely no avail—the picture seemed to have imbedded itself into the back of his eyelids.

“You look like a tomato.” He glared over at Nami at her snickering as she pointed between his face and his hair. “Red and green—”

“Shut the hell up,” he growled through his teeth

“She said you turned red when she asked you out, too.” He rolled his eyes when Nami elbowed him in the arm. “So the big bad swordsman doesn’t know how to talk to girls, huh?”

“Shut. Up.”

It normally wasn’t an issue for him, but for some reason it was quickly turning into one with you. How forward you were being about flirting when you had only laid eyes on each other for the first time barely an hour ago, how you had that little smirk any time you did—and that picture definitely hadn’t helped at all. Nami wasn’t exactly wrong, then. You definitely were having an effect on him that he wasn’t used to, but being taunted about it wasn’t going to do him any good.

Nor was nearly walking headlong into you the second that he entered the restaurant, his hand shooting out in reflex and grabbing your waist—and letting go just as quickly.

“Uh—sorry.”

But you were far too busy staring straight ahead as Luffy and Usopp spoke to the host, a little pale in the face, to even seem to notice or hear him. He gritted his teeth a little when he heard Nami give a small snort of laughter behind him, and that did seem to snap you out of your trance, as you looked at her sharply. You leaned to the side a little toward the other girl, eyes still glued to the fishman host, as you whispered, “Wh—what exactly is that?”

“That…” Nami glanced between you and the host, lifting an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen a fishman?”

“I don’t think we have those where I’m from,” you muttered through your teeth, and Nami had to cover a laugh with a put-on cough at your borderline panic. “They—they just—what, half fish half man?”

“Kind of,” she said. She approached the host herself when Luffy and Usopp tanked at their attempt to get a table at the evidently overbooked restaurant, and slipped him a small stack of berry notes, changing the man’s tune quickly. “They’re really not much different from humans,” she said quietly as all of you followed him down the stairs and into the dining area. “They can breathe underwater, though.”

“Can they?” you said, a little weakly.

The host led the group to a large, rounded booth, and Luffy hopped into it first, shifting over to the opposite end. Usopp took the next seat, followed by Nami and you. Zoro glanced between either end of the booth, decided he was probably better off not sitting that close to you, and made to sit down at the end of the booth by Luffy.

And promptly realized that this was going to be impossible with his swords at his right hip, as he got the sheathes briefly stuck between the booth and a few pillars situated next to it. He jerked them back out quickly.

“I’d be happy to check your swords for you, sir,” the host said pleasantly.

He glanced at the man—and briefly at you as he heard you giggle, your hand curled over your mouth to muffle it.

No choice, then. Great.

“I got this,” he said shortly, heading over to the opposite end of the booth. He sat down heavily, adjusting his katana, and made a point of not looking toward you again. The host left you with menus and a promise that your waiter would be with you all shortly, while Luffy leaned toward Usopp and wondered aloud what kind of food they had here.

Zoro, flipped open his menu and set immediately to seeing what kind of drinks they had—because dear god did he need one.

He kept mostly quiet during the brief wait, listening to the others and you discuss the menu. Discuss the restaurant. Discuss the crew—as Nami pointed out once more that they weren’t actually a crew, and Luffy brushed it off as he always did. You seemed more and more interested, and you honestly got along with everyone like you had been there for far more than just the last hour or so, joking around and laughing with Nami, calling Usopp out on one of his bullshit stories without any hesitation at all.

Maybe Luffy wasn’t too far off the mark in trying to recruit you.

The idle chat at the table was interrupted by a commotion at another end of the dining room by a couple of diners arguing with each other, a pirate and a marine lieutenant, with the situation being abruptly diffused by a waiter quickly knocking out both offending parties.

And, of course, Luffy already had the spark of recruitment in his eyes as the waiter approached the table and set down a plate of rolls, speaking in a curt tone.

“Hi. Welcome to our shitty restaurant, where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food.” Luffy made a grab for the plate without any hesitation at all. “My name is Sanji, what can I get for you?”

“One of everything, please,” Luffy said through a mouthful of bread,”

“Any drinks?” he said, glancing around the table. “One of our signature cocktails to help choke down your meal?”

“Giving us the hard sell, huh?” said Nami, leaning back and stretching her arm across the backrest.

Zoro glanced over when he heard you chuckle a little—and back at the waiter as his eyes flitted between you and Nami, his tone and expression shifting immediately as a smile curved at his lips.

“Apologies, ladies. Didn’t see you there. Would either of you care for an apéritif to start? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock.” Luffy and Usopp both looked between you and Nami, and Zoro just crossed his arms, waiting for the idiot to finish. “Or perhaps you’d like a glass of Umeshu? You know…something sweet for someone sweet.”

And the audacious bastard winked.

Nami raised her eyebrows. “Something wrong with your eye?”

“Just blinded by your beauty.”

“I don’t know about my friend here, but I’m not really into sweet things, sweetie.” The waiter’s attention immediately turned back to you, and Zoro glanced over at you as you spoke up—as you leaned forward on the table, curling a hand under your chin, fluttering your eyelashes. “Whiskey for me. Lowball, on the rocks,”

So flirting was your thing, then.

Zoro cleared his throat loudly before the guy could fire back. “Waiter, can I get a beer? And something for my friends.”

“Two beers,” said Usopp. “I usually have three, but—”

“And a milk,” interupted Luffy, raising his hand.

“Water,” said Nami shortly.

“Three beers, one water, one milk, and…” He turned his attention straight back to you again—you, still leaning forward with your elbow on the table, your chin resting against your knuckles, your lips curved into a small smirk. “One whiskey, on the rocks? Any particular preference, madam?”

“Whatever vintage you recommend,” you replied coyly—and then you winked.

And his smirk only widened at that as he turned to leave. “Right away, madam.”

Zoro glanced over at you slowly, his eyes shifting between you and the departing waiter, lifting an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes over to him, still smirking. “Yes?” you said, waiting for him to respond.

“Nothing.” He rolled his eyes—it still seemed very much like you were doing this on purpose, toying with him just to get a reaction.

And if you were....

He rolled his eyes back over to you, “Madam,” he said sarcastically. “Forgive my rude behavior, madam. Would madam prefer her whiskey in a crystal glass, or would a golden bowl be more madam’s style?”

There was a fair bit of chuckling around the table. Nami nudged your shoulder, and you leaned to the side, your smirk widening into a grin as she whispered something behind her hand into your ear. You straightened back out, your eyes glinting with mischief as you met his gaze and laid your hand lightly on his bicep.

“Aww, you’re not jealous, are you?” And you only leaned in closer, laying your temple at his shoulder and fluttering your eyelashes again, and he immediately regretted opening his mouth as he felt his face heating up. “Should I tell our handsome waiter that you wanted to be flirted with too?”

“Wh—what—”

And the chuckling around the table turned into hearty laughter, as you pulled away and leaned toward Nami instead, leaning into each other as the pair of you more or less cackled at your quip.

He was taking all of this way too seriously—and the sight of you laughing like that, despite how desperate your situation was, made him smile a little. Made him laugh a little himself, tilting his head back against the backrest of his seat at the booth, and speak up amid the laughter, almost affectionately.

“I hate you guys.”

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 2, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking (both carmy and reader), mention of sexual content, a bit of angst. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: chapter 2 is here! ty for reading and interacting w this story i very much appreciate it <3 this chapter is a bit angsty and a bit fluffy, pls enjoy!

summary: after you and carmy hook up, things change.

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

Carmy isn’t good at hookups. Especially after spectacularly fucking it up with Claire, a girl he knew deep down was probably his soulmate, he was feeling pretty fucking gross about the whole thing. He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve any of it, and pumping his loneliness into his pastry chef probably isn’t a great idea either. It felt so good in the moment, his hands wrapped around her throat and in her hair, pouring it all out into the messy thrusts. He just thought about how he wasn’t good enough for this, and was just a broken, broken person. 

You knew it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, and you’d heard whispers about Claire in the kitchen between Carmen and Ritchie, and obviously there was a history there. You had tried to pry the story out of Sydney, but she was all tight-lipped about the whole thing, not wanting to “gossip” at work. In reality, you knew she knew Claire and had heard more about what had happened on opening night, and probably just didn’t want to repeat the story to anyone. You could respect it, but at the same time, you needed to know how deep this shit went before you started being your boss’s rebound.

The kitchen that afternoon when you come in for your shift is awkward, to say the least. You ignore him, he ignores you, but it’s tense. When he sees you, all he sees is your lips hung open, moans escaping against his skin, his loose gold chain between your teeth as he plunges into you, over and over and over and…

“Behind, Jeff! Fuck, what is up with you today? Your mind is somewhere else,” Tina breaks him out of his daydream, watching as you ice the dessert in front of you, focusing on the even layers of chocolate buttercream. And you’re not laughing, no, because you don’t know if he’s daydreaming about you or still has his mind on Claire, and even though you may have a big ego, it’s not big enough to think he’s distracted by you at work. It was one fuck, one night, one mistake between two coworkers that you’d never speak of again.

“Outside, now, chef,” he’s suddenly at your station, looming over you just as you were getting lost in the frosting. “I’m fucking busy, Carm-“ you started, before his hand came down on the stainless steel beside you, gripping the edge of the counter. “Now, chef. Please.” You place the offset spatula on the clean plate beside your cake, glaring at him as you walked out back. He immediately pulled out a cigarette to put between his lips, letting the chilled air hit the bare skin of his arms. “What the fuck do we do?” he asks, more into the air than directly to you. You tighten your apron around your waist, crossing your arms over your chest. “Probably fuckin’ prep for service and serve rich assholes some marinated radishes. What the fuck else would we be doing?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and it’s sharper than he intends. “No, I mean,-“ “Look, you’re the one who left in the middle of the night, alright? You’re the one who snuck out and went home before I could say anything or we could come up with a game plan. I don’t care that we fucked, we can forget it, I won’t talk about it again. Swear on my fuckin’ life,” you grab the cigarette from between his fingers and put it between your own lips. “But don’t act like I’m crazy, or like it’s my fucking fault, alright?” There’s a beat as you take a puff of his cigarette, smashing it beneath the toe of your shoe into the concrete. “Sorry for leaving,” he says, finally, “Didn’ know what else to do.” You shrugged. “Whatever, Carm, it doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to. I’ll live and let live if you will. Just be fuckin’ cool, don’t tell anyone. I don’t want people to know that I fucked my boss, or whatever.” He smirks, “Heard, chef.” 

And it all seems alright for a bit. The kitchen is back to normal, you’re back on pace, and you and Carmy are fine. 

- 

The weeks pass and the world falls back into its natural orbit. There’s a hookup here and there, a few nights where he comes home with you after service, all under the guise of a drive home. You feel obligated to invite him up for something to eat (because God knows he hasn’t all fucking day), and before you can get in the door he’s already hot on your heels and breathing down the back of your neck. And there you are, breath hitched in your throat, struggling to get the door open, feeling his hand come around your front and slide into the waistband of your jeans.

Sometimes he stays, sometimes he doesn’t. It’s a toss up if you have to be in for service the next morning, and you usually hear him grabbing his coat from where it’s laid on the kitchen table, the jingle of his car keys in the right-hand side pocket being just loud enough to wake you from your deep slumber. Sometimes you’re coherent enough to ask him to stay, but he’s got one foot out the door and he can easily pretend not to hear you. And it’s fine, really.

A Saturday rolls around, the busiest day of the week, and there’s a few mumbles around the kitchen that Carmy’s in a bad mood today, and he’s not to be fucked with.

You were nothing if not nosy, so when Richie and Natalie are having a heated conversation in the dining room before prep starts, you can’t help but insert yourself. “What’s up, guys? Everything chill?” Richie shot you a look, but not before leaning down closer to your ear, sworn to secrecy.“Claire bitched out Carmy on a drunk phone call last night,” He starts, before Natalie can stop him. “No, it wasn’t-“ “Yeah, it was. It was gnarly. She finally actually got mad about opening night and let him fuckin’ have it, good for her,” he laughs, letting his hands plunge into his pockets. “What did she say?” Natalie’s sweet voice was a sharp contrast to Richie’s, low, and soft, when she replied, “He didn’t say much. Just that she called, and he had his stupid sad puppy dog eyes on, so obviously she must’ve said some… stuff.”

Carmy was scrubbing the floors of the kitchen, head down, obviously not taking any notice to the mini staff meeting in the dining room. “Just don’t mention it, ‘kay? I don’t think anyone’s supposed to know. He hasn’t heard from her in weeks and now he’s all fucked up over it, he’ll probably be a real bitch later.” “Heard, chef. Will try not to piss off Princess Carmy.”

The service isn’t so bad. Carmy’s mopey - downturned eyes, less yelling than you’d anticipated. It’s almost scary; seeing him rather calm, a little sad, reduced to a heartbroken boy who just feels fucking bad for himself. You try to stay out of his way, focusing on getting plates of custard and cake out in time, with no mistakes. It’s a lot of ‘yes chef, thank you chef, great chef’. You’d almost actually prefer it like this.

You find him out back having a cigarette right before you’re gonna head out. He hasn’t bothered to put his sweater or coat on, arms bare against the cold night air as he blows the hot smoke into a cloud above him. “Hey,” you start, sitting next to him. It feels a little odd to be close to him - intimate, in a way that you’re not used to. “You seemed off tonight. Is something up?” You put your hand out expectantly for a cigarette, and he obliges, with his lighter to follow. 

“No, chef,” he starts, dusting some salt from the street off his shoe. “Thank you though.” “You know I don’t have to be chef outside of that kitchen,” you bump a shoulder with him. “You’ve called me a lot of other names, God knows.” He stifles a laugh and looks at you again, with a softness in his features you’d never really seen before. “I just had a rough night last night, is all,” he finishes. “Just feels so fucking bad. I feel like I’m so bad at… this.” He gestures to the night sky around him. “I don’t know how to balance anything. I keep… I keep fucking losing people. People I like, people… people I fucking love. And like, what am I supposed to do about that?” You can see his face get hot as he lets the heel of his hand rub his eye. “You let it happen,” you finish, taking a puff of your own cigarette. “You do what you can and you let yourself feel it and you mourn and grieve until you can’t anymore, until it doesn’t feel right to anymore.”

He nods in agreement, letting you both smoke in silence. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asks, and you know what that means. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “Sure, thanks. Go get your stuff, I’ll wait here.” When he’s back, he locks the back door of the restaurant and lets you stand up first, following behind you.

When you make it back to your place, it’s different. He’s comfortable here now, having been in your space enough times to know where he was welcomed. Normally, it goes like, he’s panting down your neck before you can even get in the door, and once he’s put his stuff down, the back of your knees are hitting the mattress, wet sloppy kisses along your collarbones and neck, down over your breasts and down down down…

But he’s not being like that. When he sets his coat down, he finds his way to your couch. You pull a glass out of the cupboard to fill with ice and cold water, handing it to him before doing the same for yourself. “Can we… can we go to bed?” He asks, and it’s softer than usual. “Sure,” you smile, opening the door to your bedroom and watching as he strips bare, before pulling out a pair of grey sweat pants he had stashed in your closet. You’d stayed the night at his one time, so-affectionately wearing them in the morning to make him a cup of morning coffee, and decided just to wear them home. “Keep them,” he had said to you that day, “just in case.”

When he climbs in between your white sheets, he seems to instantly relax. He generally did after work, from what you saw - and even though he often had a hard time letting the day go, it seemed like whenever he was with you, he could let it go a little easier. You grabbed a pair of pyjamas for yourself and slid them on, before cracking the window slightly and letting the cool breeze in. The chain around his neck glistened in the moonlight, as he let his eyes flutter closed, just for a minute. When you let your hand brush over his arm, tracing the faded inky lines of his tattoos, he opened one eye slightly, eliciting a small laugh from the side of his mouth. “Feels nice,” he offered, soft against the sounds of the nighttime. “Would you be offended if we didn’t fuck tonight?” His eyes are still closed, and even though it seems a bit ridiculous to ask, you can tell it was hard for him to get the words out. It didn’t really mean that, it meant, can we just be here, together, and enjoy each other for a night? Do you want me here if not for that? 

“Of course not, Carmen,” you let your head hit the pillow, kissing his shoulder and letting your hand grasp his bicep. “You never call me Carmen,” he comments, voice soft, before he looks over at you. “I kinda like it. Only you, though.” You let the curls of his hair tangle around your fingers as he started to drift off, you following not long after. And it’s actually fine this time.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: a million moments

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

summary: a slice of a happy life with joel miller.

read on ao3 | masterlist

author’s note: this fluffy fic is based off of this gif set by @serenaxpedro , this ask, and this one! requests are open if you’ve got something you’re itching to read, and please consider leaving a lil comment if you enjoyed this fic! 💕

contents warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, fluff!!!!, happy and soft pre-outbreak joel as the lord intended, established relationship, domestic as hell!!!!, discussions of marriage, pet names, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, minor breeding kink. let me know if any are missing!

You’re finishing up breakfast, talking with Sarah as she tells you about a test she has coming up, when Joel shuffles into the kitchen, yawning widely as he scrubs a hand through his hair.

“My favorite girls,” he says, pressing a kiss first to Sarah’s cheek before wrapping his arms around your middle and leaning his head against your shoulder blade, eyes falling closed again. “Smells good.”

“I made eggs. Yours are cold because you kept hitting the snooze button,” you tease. You can feel his lips spread into a smile against your back. “Sit. Eat. I need to make lunches.”

He brings a palm up to turn your face to his, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips over your shoulder. The kiss is followed by three squeezes to your hip before he reaches past you to grab the plate you made for him, popping it in the microwave.

With the two Millers chatting behind you, you assemble their lunches. Sarah always requests a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, while Joel prefers to bring two ham and cheese sandwiches to work. They each get apple slices and a bag of chips, and you slip a Twinkie into Joel’s box as well, knowing he has a sweet tooth.

Which reminds you…

“Joel, don’t forget you have a dentist appointment at two,” you tell him.

“Shit. I mean, shoot,” he replies.

“Swear jar,” you and Sarah say in unison. The teen giggles as Joel grumbles under his breath, digging his wallet from his pants. He checks his watch. “Finish up, baby girl, we gotta get goin’.”

You watch as Sarah shoves the last of her toast into her mouth. Joel stands, sticking his plate in the sink and pressing a kiss to your cheek before he leaves the kitchen in search of his work boots.

“Babe! Have you seen—“

“On the porch!” You call, cutting him off.

You zip up Sarah’s lunch box, handing it to her as she flies through the kitchen.

“Thank you!” She calls, blowing you a kiss as she heads for the front door. You wave to her, watching through the bay window as Joel gets into the truck, waving through the windshield as he backs out.

You’re smiling to yourself as you clean up the sink, humming a vague tune as you stick the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Your mind drifts back to the night you met Joel Miller, about a year ago.

“Please tell me you’re not about to rent that,” a masculine voice asks from beside you, making you jump, nearly losing your hold on the DVD case you were reading, a copy of The Lord of the Rings that was sitting in the new release section.

The man eyeing the DVD case is tall and broad shouldered, with biceps straining the material of his t-shirt. He has curly dark hair and kind brown eyes that are looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, uh, I was thinking about it. Is it bad?” You ask. He runs a hand through his hair.

“No, no, it’s a great choice it’s just…my daughter just finished the book this week and I told her I’d rent her the movie when she did,” he admits.

“Oh! You go ahead and rent it, then,” you tell him, holding the case out to him.

“Are you sure?” He asks, reaching for it. His fingertips brush against yours, the slight touch enough to leave you craving more as you return his bright smile. “I’m Joel, by the way.”

After returning his introduction with your own, he lingers for a moment. You’re just staring at each other with goofy smiles on your faces.

“Could I…make it up to you? With dinner?” He finally asks.

“I’d like that, Joel.”

You finish the dishes and grab a rag to wipe down the counters when you notice the lunch box still sitting there. You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you.

Checking the time, you head back to the bedroom to get ready for your shift at the hair salon, resolving to bring Joel his lunch during your break.

________

Joel sees your car pull up at the work site and his face splits in a grin. He tugs his work gloves off and goes to meet you.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” he calls. God, he loves the way your cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink just for him. “What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion, Joel Miller, is that you forgot your lunch at home,” you say, shaking the lunch box in your hand. He laughs.

“What would I do without you?” He asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. Your head tips back to look at him and presses a kiss to your lips. “Stay to eat with me?”

“Sure. Let me grab my lunch. I’ll meet you at your truck,” you say, squeezing his hip three times as you pull away. He tugs you back for another kiss, swallowing your giggles. “Joel, let me go.”

“Never, darlin’.”

________

You’re sitting between Joel’s legs, your back pressed to his chest, in the bed of the truck. He’s parked beneath a large tree, the shade a relief from the Texas heat as you both enjoy your sandwiches.

“What are your thoughts on marriage?” Joel asks, apropos of nothing. You blink.

“In general? They’re positive ones. Why?”

You feel him shrug beneath you. “Just been thinkin’ about it lately.”

Your smile makes your cheeks ache.

________

Joel stops at the store on the way home, a spring in his step from a good day. He scrutinizes the flower selection, hands on his hips as he tries to pick out a bouquet. His eyes land on a bouquet of bursting pink peonies.

Perfect.

On the drive home, he hums along to the classic rock radio, fingers drumming in the steering wheel, flowers settled on the passenger seat with care. His mind drifts back to the conversation at lunch, and how you’d grinned at him when he mentioned he’d been thinking about marriage lately.

And it’s the truth, he’d been thinking about it a lot. Every time he turned over in bed and slipped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. Or when he’d come into the kitchen and find you bent over Sarah’s math homework with a furrow in your brow as you tried to help her, despite math being your weakest subject. Or finding the little notes left in his lunch box, scribbled I love yous on colorful paper that he keeps in his glove box for safekeeping.

He thinks about it every time he opens his wallet and sees the folded photo strip of you, him, and Sarah, squeezed into a photo booth at a carnival as you make silly faces at the camera. Or when you’re getting ready in the morning, slicking lip gloss onto your pretty lips and he wants to kiss it all away.

There are a million moments that he thinks about marrying you.

Joel walks in on one such moment this evening. You’re alone in the kitchen, humming as you stir something in the pot on the stove. He steps up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs between kisses.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, turning to face him. Your eyes light up when you see the flowers in his hand. “Those for me?”

“For my one and only,” he confirms, letting you take them from him. You press your nose to the blooms, inhaling deeply.

“They’re amazing,” you gush, moving around the kitchen to find a vase to fill with water. You hand them back to Joel and he removes the wrapping paper, using the kitchen shears to cut the ends off the stems.

You set a glass vase of water on the kitchen table and Joel tips the flowers into them, watching with a small smile as you arrange them to look their best.

“I love them,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“I love you,” he says.

________

Joel kisses you breathless, right there in the kitchen. His tongue slides against yours, his hands smoothing down your waist until they grip your hips and tug you closer.

“Gross,” Sarah comments from the doorway. Joel pulls back abruptly. He squeezes your hips three times before letting go, crossing to the doorway to pull Sarah into a hug.

“Set the table,” he tells her, ruffling a hand through her curly hair. She groans, batting at his hand and ducking away from him to grab the silverware.

The three of you enjoy dinner, followed by Joel starting up a movie that Sarah’s been begging to watch.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Joel tells her.

“I won’t!” Sarah insists.

She’s out cold twenty minutes later. Joel laughs silently.

“I’ll get her in bed,” he says, shifting out from beneath her and picking her up from the couch. “Meet you in the bedroom?”

You nod, turning the TV off and putting away the blanket the three of you had been sharing. You head upstairs to your shared bedroom, changing into one of Joel’s well loved t-shirts before climbing into bed, turning the bedside lamp on.

“Never gets old,” Joel says when he comes in a moment later. He reaches behind his head, tugging his shirt up and off.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“You, in my bed. In my clothes,” he says, shoving his jeans down his thighs and kicking them away. You raise an eyebrow at him. “I’ll put them in the hamper later, I swear, let me just hold you.”

He crawls into bed, flopping beside you with a groan and shimmying around until he’s pulled you into his body, tugging your leg over his hip and pressing his head to your chest with a sigh. You run your fingers through his soft curly hair.

“Love you,” he says into your chest.

“You sayin’ that to me or my boobs?” You ask, teasing lilt to your voice.

“Both, definitely both,” he confirms, lifting his head. He brings a hand to the back of your neck to drag your lips to his. The kiss is slow and syrupy, no rush and all the time in the world to enjoy each other.

Joel’s mouth opens against yours, tongue exploring at his leisure. His hand slides down your back until he grips a handful of your ass, tugging you closer until your pussy drags against his hardening cock.

You whine against his lips, and he repeats the action. “You feelin’ a little needy, baby?”

You nod, and he shifts forward, pressing your back to the mattress and hovering over you. His mouth trails across your jaw and down your neck, wet hot kisses marking you like a tattoo, his love seeping beneath your skin.

His calloused fingers drag your shirt up, bunching it up beneath your armpits to expose your breasts to the cool bedroom air. You squirm beneath him as he kisses your sternum before taking one pert nipple between his lips with little preamble.

His tongue swirls around your hard nipple before he draws back with a nip of teeth that makes you gasp. You can feel his grin against your skin as he moves to give your other breast the same treatment.

Joel slips a hand into your panties, finger sliding through your wet folds and he groans. “God, this pussy, baby. Always so fuckin’ wet for me.”

A finger dips into your entrance and you keen, pressing your head back against the pillow. He shushes you as he kisses your tummy. He withdraws his hand to your whine of displeasure.

Joel tugs your underwear over your hips, dragging them down your legs before he tosses them to the side. His hands press your legs apart so that he can position himself on his belly between them, face close to where you crave him most. He kisses your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly.

“Joel,” you whine. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

He chuckles. “You want my mouth, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you groan.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, put your mouth on me, baby.”

He licks through your folds, swirling his tongue deftly over your sensitive clit. The sudden stimulation makes your hips buck against his face and he throws an arm over you to keep you still.

Joel is a man on a mission, pulling out all the moves he knows drive you wild. Circling your clit before sucking it between his lips, dipping down to your entrance to drive his tongue against you to drink up your essence. His teeth graze the bundle of nerves and you bite back a shout, hips fighting against his hold.

His free hand presses a finger to your hole, slipping inside you wet heat. He groans against you, the vibration of it making you whine. One finger becomes two that he curls against your front wall, grazing a spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

He looks up at you from between your legs, brown eyes shaded with lust as he works you until you shatter, your release dripping down his wrist as he slows his hand and draws out the swipes of his tongue in broad strokes.

You sink into the mattress, a boneless heap in the aftermath. Joel sits up with a smug smile, crawling over your body until his face hovers above yours.

“You wanna taste?” He murmurs, voice a low rumble you feel through all your nerve endings. You nod and he presses his fingertips to your lips, urging them to part. You lick the taste of yourself from his skin, tongue sliding over the digits reverently.

He presses against your tongue slightly before withdrawing, replacing his fingers with his lips and tongue in a deep and dirty kiss. You reach a hand into his boxers, gripping his length and pumping it leisurely. He hisses, hips flexing into your hold.

“Want your cock, baby,” you whisper, your thumb circling the head and smearing the drop of precum gathered at the slit around the crown. “Please?”

Joel shoves his boxers down in a hurry and you giggle at the display of desperation. He takes himself in hand, sliding himself through your wetness, bumping your still sensitive clit. He notches himself to your entrance, pressing forward in a slow slide until he’s pressed so deep and close you don’t know where you start and he ends.

His body is a welcome weight against yours as he flexes his hips, drawing back before snapping them forward in a harsh thrust. You gasp.

“That’s right, baby,” he says, teeth gritted. “This pretty cunt is all mine, huh?”

“Yours,” you agree, nails scraping against his shoulders. “Wan’ you to fill me up, Joel.”

His hips stutter. “Yeah? You want me drippin’ out of this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant back. He bites at your neck before sitting up on his heels, your legs held up against one shoulder as he uses a rough grip on your thighs to slam into you over and over and over.

You have to slap a palm over your mouth to keep the noises you’re making at manageable volume. His grin is near feral.

“Can’t help yourself, huh, darlin’? Wanna scream so bad over how my cock’s making you feel,” he growls. Your eyes flutter shut as you let him command your body how he desires.

You can feel your second orgasm creeping up on you as your belly starts to tighten, like all your nerves are gearing up to shatter in unison.

“Come on, baby, wanna feel you cum on my cock,” he tells you, his thrusts sloppy as he chases his own release. “Make that pussy milk me.”

It’s his dirty words that send you over the edge, forcing you to bite your lip to the point of pain. He lets your legs fall to his hips as he presses deeply into you, his cock pulsing his warm release as he slams his lips to yours, swallowing your noises and mixing them with his own.

His hips slow until he’s just pressed inside of you, his kisses turning into soft pecks to your lips. He lifts his head to look at you, smoothing your hair back from your sweaty forehead with a tender hand.

You smile, turning your head to press a kiss to his open palm.

“I love you, Joel.”

________

As Joel looks down at you, his heart squeezes in his chest. There was a time, around when Sarah’s mom left them both without warning, that he thought love was a hoax. That no one actually found it for themselves.

But looking into your eyes, he finds he was wrong. All that pain was just meant to lead him to you. He wants a million of these moments with you.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro

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[hellfirehottie]

California Dreamin' - Eddie Munson

Content warnings/advisories (SPOILERS!!!) 18+ only, mature themes, reader discretion advised. Mental health struggles, anxiety, depression, parental abuse, parental alcoholism, alcohol use, drug use, smut, swearing. Soul mates, twin flames. Eddie survived the upside down. Strangers to lovers. Mutual pining. Idiots in love, very fluffy.

Blurb:

Nina: “Why do you love me, Eddie?”  Eddie: “You were like coming up for fresh air.” [playing with his rings nervously] “Life kinda blurred into one long day. And then I met you.” [looking at her lovingly] “And you brought me back to life. I felt like the old me again.” Nina: “Do you think we’ll get through this?” 

Eddie: “We have to.” [smiling at her] “I haven’t finished loving you yet.” 

Eddie’s life didn’t change much after he returned from the Upside Down. People still hated him, blamed him, and he retreated to a shell of his former self. Life passed him by, blurring into the same everyday routine. Until Nina, Robin’s ‘sort-of’ cousin arrives in Hawkins. 

Fleeing from her past in California, Nina’s world is turned upside down (no pun intended) as she falls head over heels for the freak of Hawkins. 

Can these two lost souls find peace with each other, or will the demons of their past come back for them? 

Contents:

Chapter One - Black Magic Woman // Someone new arrives in Hawkins.

Chapter Two - Cherry Bomb // Rumours fly around Hawkins High, and Eddie says Hi.

Chapter Three - Freak // Eddie and Nina get to know each other

Chapter Four - Fall for Me // Steve hosts a study group, 18+

Chapter Five - Every little thing she does is magic // Eddie and Nina get close

Chapter Six - Everywhere (Part One) // Eddie and Nina get closer

Chapter Six - Everywhere (Part Two)

Chapter Seven - Songbird // Nina freaks out. 18+

Chapter Eight - How do I get you alone? // Nina joins Eddie at the hideout and a fight breaks out. 18+

Chapter Nine - I think we're alone now // 18+ (smut), Things heat up between Eddie and Nina

Chapter Ten - I Just Want You // Nina has doubts and Eddie soothes them. (18+, angst, mh warning)

This fic is under construction; was previously posted as "Hey Stranger" on an old account @/takemebackto-eden / @/heyeddiemunson

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated 🖤 comment to be added to taglist!✨

[dbnightingale24]

Getting Lost In The Silence With You

An Emmett Lovestory

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~~

Surprise, and Happy Halloween!!

I just wanted to make something fluffy and loving, since I'm always giving you guys angst and despair 🙃 anywho, I hope you all enjoy this little story, I hope you're enjoying one of the best days ever, and please be safe! As always, thank you to @fuckingbyefor the amazing moldboard, and for just existing. Alright, enough of my rambling, enjoy!

Like always, Tumblr is on it's bullshit, so I'm only gonna post part of it here, and leave the link to my AO3 if you wanna read all of it.

Word Count: 15,618

Warnings: SMUT (18+ Minors DNI), Swearing, Drinking, Heartbreak, Dealing with Loss, FLUFF, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Self Doubt, A Bit of Self Loathing, uhh...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: You Are The One I Waited For, I Knew It All Along

~~

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere.

~~

You keep your giggles quiet as you feel something tickling your toes.

Emmett.

‘Happy birthday,’ he smiles down at you after your eyes finally open.

This has been routine for the past three years now, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that you and Emmett have had each other to lean on. You wonder how something so beautiful came from such an ugly turn of events.

When Emmett found you, you were both wary of one another. He hadn’t meant to find you, and you hadn’t meant to find him. He stumbled across where you’d been hiding, searching for materials to stock up on. The second he found you hiding, you both pulled your guns on one another. While you were more than sure that he could see the fear in your eyes, you saw the emptiness and despair in his. Yet the longer he looked at you and the more you shook, the softer his features became.

He held a finger against his lips, a sign for you to be quiet, and slowly led you out of the closet. You warily grabbed the few of the things you had and followed him. You’re not sure why you followed him to this day.

“What were you doing there?” he asked softly, once you two had reached where he was hiding out, putting away the few supplies he was able to scrounge up on his trip.

“The same thing everyone else who’s alive is trying to do. Hiding.”

“That’s a terrible hiding spot.”

“It worked out just fine for me for the last two months.”

“Are you alone?”

Silence.

He turned around to see you standing there, eyes watering as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

You’d been alone for a year at the time. There hadn’t been anyone you’d confided in, and you didn’t find yourself wanting to know anyone. The last person in life died in your arms and you’d decided to keep to yourself from then on out. It just felt like the best idea; the safest in this world surrounded by danger.

“I don’t mean to be harsh, you just...that spot was dangerous. Even more so if you’re alone. Have a seat. Have you eaten today?”

“Don’t eat much,” you mumbled, taking a seat at his table, looking around the empty space. “I don’t hunt unless I have to.”

“I’ll get you something, just sit tight,” he told you softly. 

You looked around and saw the different drawings, a few pictures, and wondered how long it’d been since he lost everyone.

“Th-thank you,” you told him softly, pulling out a bottle of wine and setting it on the table.

Seemed like a pretty decent peace offering. 

“Where the hell did you get that?” he half smiled, coming over and picking up the bottle in admiration. 

“Some of it’s self made, others are from...before.”

“How old are you?”

“What’s the date?”

“October 31st.”

You smiled and shook your head, wiping away a few tears, “I’m 27 today.”

He offered a sympathetic smile, “happy birthday.”

And that’s how it started. You never intended on staying with him, and you’re more than sure he never meant to let you stay, but you both soon found that you enjoyed the company of each another. It’d been a long time since either of you had people in your lives, and it just felt nice to have someone around.

Even if you two didn’t say much to each other for the first few months.

Every once in a while, he’d hear you crying and sit by you, softly placing his hand over yours and you’d squeeze it softly. Other times, he’d have restless nights, tossing and turning for hours, and you’d just sit by him and take his hand until he felt at ease. In exchange of him getting food, you taught him how to make his own wine and vodka. You would share books, and every now and again you’d both go to the nearby falls together just to hear something.

This stayed a constant for months until he found you listening to your iPhone one day.

“How do you still have one of those?” he marveled, putting a plate of venison in front of you.

Deer was his specialty.

“My best friend figured out to make a battery one night,” you laughed softly. “She was drunk as shit, but real determined to make it work. She refused to lose all of the comforts from the way things used to be. It was the last gift she ever gave me. I’m not the best when it comes to things like that, so I try not to use it often. I don’t wanna end up breaking it and being fucked,” you finished with a scoff as you pressed ‘pause’ and set it aside.

“What’s special about today?”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Explains why it’s so damn cold,” he muttered, and you laughed softly. “Anything good on there?”

“Depends on what your definition of good is,” you smirked, pouring the both of you a cup of wine. “Being a Jersey girl, there’s a lot of Springsteen on there-”

“You’re from Jersey?” he questioned before he realized he cut you off, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“No, it’s okay. We’ve never talked about it. Um yeah, I was born and raised in New Jersey. My parents moved to Millbrook after I went off to college. I was here visiting when...when everything happened. Got stuck,” you chuckled humorlessly. “At least I don’t have to worry about paying off my college loans,” you muttered as you cut up your deer and Emmett laughed.

It was the first time you’d actually heard him laugh.

~~

You can read the rest here.

taglist: @autumnrose40

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Everything the Same

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 2

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: Swearing, mild violence, descriptions of Frank's nightmares, non-graphic depictions of eating disorder (reader doesn't eat much and it's noticed, that's literally it)

a/n: Writing this chapter gave me butterflies. It's very fluffy. Please enjoy. As always, I love comments and feedback!

w/c: 4.4k

As the weeks passed, and as Frank continued to learn more about you, his infatuation only grew. He learned that you had introduced yourself to nearly the whole building at this point. He found out that you would bake cookies for Gladys in 2B every few weeks when her grandchildren visited and that you were a fan-favorite of the young couple on the fifth floor who claimed you were the only person besides themselves who could get their unruly toddler down for a nap. 

Even Reggie, who was quite possibly the only person more crotchety than Frank himself, had a soft spot for you after you’d helped him find his lost cat. 

He wasn’t quite sure how he, a mass murderer, had befriended the manifestation of sunlight, but he couldn’t complain. You kept his pantry stocked with unique and, honestly, sensational pastries and kept his spirits high with your gorgeous laugh and constant smile. The truth was, you were the best thing to happen to him in years and Frank wasn’t prepared to let that go—despite his more rational side desperately asking him to leave you the fuck alone, for both of your sakes. 

He shoved the warning bells aside, once again convincing himself that a simple friendship wouldn’t be too dangerous for either of you. Besides, you seemed to enjoy his company as much as he did yours, which made no sense to him but who was he to question the choices of an angel such as yourself. 

An angel who was endearingly demanding (I’m not demanding, Frank, I’m insisting) that he sit down to have lunch with her and her coworkers after they closed up shop. 

The cafe was quickly becoming a safe haven for Frank, even on days when his mood was especially bitter. Anyone with common sense would be able to determine that you worked here. Everywhere he turned, there were touches that you had clearly added to the cafe. A sensory sensitive area complete with weighted throws and fidget toys, beautiful arrangements of local wildflowers in the windows, soft upbeat music playing from the speakers. 

Once, when he’d gotten there right as the store opened, he’d been lucky enough to catch you singing along. The sight of you dancing through the kitchen, using a wooden spoon as a faux microphone as you belted out the lyrics to the song playing overhead, had carried him through the rest of the week. With the hope that he could bear witness to the event again someday, he’d basked quietly in your glory, making his presence known after you’d finished your performance. 

While your shop served a damn fine cup of coffee, it was your presence and the knowledge that you had purposefully crafted this space for those you cared about that kept him coming back. 

Which is how he found himself being interrogated by your coworkers as you finished up behind the scenes. Frank hadn’t intended to strike up a conversation with the bakery’s other employees, but they seemed overjoyed to share embarrassing stories and tidbits about you, and Frank greedily indulged. Apparently, you baked homemade dog biscuits for the local shelter once a month, which seemed on brand. You had a complicated relationship with your family, but you were close with your siblings. You were loyal and fiercely protective of the people you loved. Every word out of your friends’ mouths made Frank’s heart grow fonder of you. 

“So, Frank,” The flashy one, Leo, smirked at him from across the booth they were currently seated in. 

“Pete.” You corrected from behind the counter as you grabbed food for everyone. Frank had made up some cock and bull story about a rabid ex-girlfriend who was looking for him and asked you to call him Pete in public. A blush crept over his cheeks just thinking about how stupid that sounded after the fact. 

“Sorry, Pete,” Leo corrected. “How did you become friends with our loveable chef here?” 

“My dog broke into her place a while ago. Fell in love with her. Clearly, I had no say in the matter.” He grumbled, smirking a tiny bit as you spun around, hands pinned to your hips, an incredulous look on your face. 

“‘Had no say in the matter’, who was knocking on my door at 11 pm yesterday because he was hungry and I said I was cooking. Sure as shit wasn’t Max.” You huffed, Frank’s sly grin growing. It didn’t take much to work you up but, fuck, if this wasn’t one of the cutest displays of frustration he’d ever seen. 

“He’s a man of good taste, you’re the best cook there is, Princess.” Leo snorted, giving Frank a knowing look. 

Frank’s brow furrowed. “Princess?” 

“It’s the nickname we gave her.” Your grumpy coworker, Stacy, said with little emotion as she plopped down beside Leo. “Because she acts like a damn Disney character.” 

Frank laughed as you started sputtering, trying to dispute the allegations. “You do act like a Disney Princess, sunshine. Is that such a bad thing?” 

You huffed with an exaggerated frown, plopping yourself in the booth beside Frank, who pressed his shoulder to yours in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“Oh god, has she even told you about her baby animal acquisition talents?” Leo chuckled at your growing embarrassment. 

Frank barked another laugh, “The fuck does that even mean?”

“It means, that if there is a hurt, scared, or young animal within a 5 mile radius, it will find her.” Stacy had a small smile on her face as she snatched one of the sandwiches you’d set on the table. “I swear, she’s got like a magnetism.” 

“It’s cosmic, really.” Leo agreed, already halfway done with their sandwich. “This one time, she found a hummingbird outside the cafe. Poor thing was wrapped in cobwebs, couldn’t fly. She sits there and meticulously unwraps it, and, after it could fly again, the bird chooses to sit in her lap for like an hour like they were old friends.” 

“People literally approached her on the street once to ask if she could help them rescue baby bunnies. There was a whole mess of people, they chose her.” Stacy pointed out, smirking as you buried your face in your hands. 

Frank nudged you with his hip. “Hey now, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.” 

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You really think so?” 

“Yah, sunshine. I do.” 

“Not to mention, your wardrobe is like 100% dresses.” Stacy sniggered, polishing off the food on her plate. 

“And, you are so graceful yet so clumsy.” Leo continued. 

“And—“ You waved a hand, cutting Stacy off. 

“Ok, I think we are done embarrassing me for the day.” Clapping your hands together, you started stacking plates. Frank frowned, seeing the small sandwich you took for yourself remained mostly untouched. 

“Who are we supposed to embarrass then? Pete?” Stacy rolled her eyes. 

“I’d really rather you didn’t. He’s very sweet and I’d hate for you two to scare him off.” You wound your arm around Frank’s much larger one, rubbing it gently. 

“‘M not sweet.” Frank grumped, graciously allowing you to retain a hold on his arm. 

“Aww see!! Look at that grumpy face.” You poked his cheek and he growled softly, still not taking his arm back. Giggling, you squished in closer to him. “Sorry, Pete. I’m just teasin’”

Untangling yourself from him, you got up to take the stack of plates to the kitchen. The loss of contact exposed him to the blasting AC, and the chill made his scowl deepen. 

“Pete,” Your voice rang out from the kitchen. Waltzing back into the front room, you grinned at him, tilting your head with a question. “Walk me home?” 

Basking in your bright glow, Frank forgot how to speak for a second. “Uh, yah. Yah, I can do that, Sunshine.” 

Dutifully turning off the lights and hanging up your apron, you gave a twirl around the counter—giggling at the way your dress spun. 

“Disney. Princess.” Stacy whispered emphatically to Frank, smirking at his wide eyes and forgotten scowl. 

Frank pushed himself up from the booth and opened the door for you. “Thanks, sweetheart.” You squeezed his shoulder before walking through the door. 

The two of you maintained a good pace, as you walked the few blocks back to your apartment building. You were giddily chittering away about new recipes you wanted to try your hand at and, as much as it pained him to admit it, Frank wasn’t listening. At the very start of your trek home, you’d grabbed his hand so that the two of you didn’t get separated in the midday crowds. The heat of your palm against his pushed everything else away. Your skin was unbelievably soft, and your fingers threaded through his as if they were created with his hands in mind.

“Frank?” Your voice broke him out of a daze. He took in his surroundings, blushing when he realized you’d reached your shared building already. He was so gone for you already. You could’ve pulled him across state lines and he would’ve happily let you. 

“Frank? Are you ok?” 

“Uh, yah. Yah I’m ok. Just tired.” 

Your pristine brow furrowed and his heart sank, hands longing to cradle your face and smooth the crease that had settled on it. “You’re tired? Did my friends and I wear you out? I’m so sorry!” You’d taken both of his hands now and he had to focus a significant amount on the words he was forming. 

“Nah, I just don’t sleep well. It ain’t your fault.” He shrugged, noticing how small your hands looked around his. You squeezed his hands gently, prompting him to meet your concerned gaze once more. 

“You sure you’re ok? I know that I can drain people’s energy—“ 

Frank drew one hand out of your grasp, nestling it against your jaw. “I’m ok. You—you make me happier than anyone has in…a long time. If people make you feel like you’re exhausting, find new people, yah?” 

You chuckled, averting your eyes but leaning into his tender hold. “Yah. Ok, Frankie.” 

“C’mon. Let’s get you home, darlin’.” 

Hours later, a shrill ringtone pierced Frank’s tranquility. Tossing his book aside in a huff, he picked up the call. 

“What do ya want, Curt?” Frank's voice had more of an edge than it should have, but the thought of Curtis and David gossiping about his shitty moods was enough to push him into one. 

“Damn, nice to hear from you too. Didn’t see you lurking at group today, wanted to check in and make sure you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself killed.” The man on the other line sounded equally annoyed. 

“Unfortunately, I am still breathing. That all ya needed?” 

“Christ, Frank. You’re making it really hard to want to be your friend, you know that?” 

Frank sighed. “‘M sorry, Curt. I’m ok. Promise. Not holin’ myself up in my apartment or anythin’. I know it ain’t easy stickin’ with me.”

“It’s all good. Come to group next week, will ya? I know it’ll be…tougher than usual. I’m here for you, don’t forget that.” 

“I appreciate it, man. I—yah, I’ll be there.”

“Good. Seeing your ugly mug will make me feel better before my date.” 

“She didn’t dump your ass yet? You're treadin’ water, man.” Frank chuckled. 

“Yah, yah. I don’t know, Frank. She makes me happy. That’s what it’s all about, you know?”

Frank smiled to himself, hearing your giggles somewhere in the back of his mind. “Yah. That’s great, Curt. ‘M happy for ya.” 

“Thanks, Frank. See you next week then?” 

“Yah. I’ll be there. Bye, Curt.” 

She makes me happy. His friend’s words echoed in his ears. Before he could set his phone aside, an idea formed. He swallowed his nerves and dialed the number. 

Curled up under a blanket on your overly squishy couch, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy as you tried to focus your attention on the screen in front of you. 

Reruns of some 90s sitcom flashed past your glazed eyes. You were tired, but it was barely 7 pm! Letting your head fall against the arm of the couch with a dull thunk, you chided yourself. You knew exactly why you were exhausted at this early hour. The stress of the move a few weeks ago combined with your recent family visits had pushed you backwards into old, less healthy habits. God, you needed to eat something, but your stomach remained silent. 

You rubbed a hand over your eyes, pulling out your phone to stimulate your brain further. Your heart did a somersault as you noticed the text waiting unanswered on your screen. 

Frank: Hey, I ordered too much pizza. You hungry? 

Well, wasn’t that a wonderful offering from the universe. Grinning, you swiped open your phone and typed out a response. 

You: I could eat. If the offer still stands, of course. 

It didn’t take long for another message to pop up. 

Frank: The offer always stands for you, sunshine. 

With a giggle, you lifted yourself from the couch, running out the door and down the hall to rap your knuckles gently on Frank’s door. 

Though you and Frank hung out pretty much daily now, this would be the first time you’d hung out at his apartment. Not that you hadn’t seen it before, he often invited you along on walks with him and Max, but you were eager to really take the place in. A person’s living space can tell you so much about them—and you were dying to learn more about the beautiful, grumpy person living next door to you. 

As if your train of thought had summoned the very man, you heard heavy footfalls quickly pacing before the door opened. Frank’s face was ruggedly handsome. Deep brown eyes that always seemed to be observing above a crooked nose and a magnificent jawline beneath a thick beard. His wavy dark hair was growing longer by the day and you longed to run your fingers through it, to see if it was as soft as you imagined. 

Currently, the sea of black strands was hanging loosely around his face after a day of living whatever life it was that Frank lived. When his gorgeous ochre eyes settled on yours, his expression softened which made your heart sing. Your excitement quickly drifted south as his gaze roamed over your body. Before you could dwell on that fact too much, a scoff-like laugh startled you from the daydream. 

“All dressed up for me, are ya Princess?” Frank’s lips were barely upturned but his expression was impressively smug. 

Looking down at your outfit with a frown, you pulled at the hem of your oversized crew neck which nearly covered the soft cotton shorts you wore. 

“Hey! When you invite me over after business hours, you get what you get. I wanted to be comfortable!” Your frown became a dramatic pout. 

Frank laughed harder. It was impossible to take you seriously when you were so goddamn cute. 

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll order my own pizza.” You huffed, sticking your nose into the air. 

As you turned to go, a calloused hand shot out to grasp your wrist. 

“I’m just kiddin’, sunshine. You look beautiful, as always.” Staring into his eyes, you felt heat creeping up your neck as you realized the compliment was genuine. Pushing away the embarrassment that always overtook you when someone commented on your looks, you rolled your eyes. 

“Sure, sure. Bet you say that to all the girls, Castle.” 

The amusement fell from the large man’s expression. Frank tugged your wrist gently, drawing your body into his with ease. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. “I mean it. You’re beautiful, honey. Amazes me every damn day, hand to God.” 

Taking in a sharp breath, you swallowed the lump of emotion in your throat. “Thank you, Frank. That, uh, you don’t know how much that means to me.” 

Frank’s porcelain skin darkened with a blush. “‘S the truth.” Clearing his throat, he stepped backwards into the apartment, gesturing for you to come in. 

You curtsied clumsily, grinning at him. “Why thank you, my liege.” 

Smile returning to his eyes, he shook his head as you nearly tripped with the action. “Christ, sit down before you break somethin’, ya goof.” 

You giggled, happily taking his hand as he helped you sit down on the couch without incident. Breathing deeply, your smile widened at the sight of a scented candle on Frank’s mantle. Stifling another giggle, you let your gaze drift over the space in front of you, absorbing every detail you could about your new friend. 

The room was simple: very few decorations, only necessary furniture. That much was not a surprise, the emptiness of Frank’s apartment was apparent to anyone who caught half a glance past the doorway. Once inside, though, you noticed the details that made this apartment so vividly Frank that you couldn’t help but explore a little. 

There were very few pictures in the apartment, but two frames stood next to the burning candle above the fireplace. One was the smiling faces of two children, a boy and a girl, laughing openly at something behind the camera lens. The next was the same kids seated in front of a beautiful woman on a picnic in a park. The woman was smiling at the camera while the kids looked off to the side. 

Gingerly brushing a finger over the frame, you found your thoughts wandering. Frank didn’t talk much about his family, but two weeks ago you’d noticed the ring hung around his neck. It didn’t take much time for you to piece together who he was, the name “Frank Castle” was nearly impossible to find on the internet these days (someone very dedicated had taken up the task of clearing this man from the digital world), but you’d lived just outside of the Kitchen when his trial was the only thing everyone wanted to talk about. Though your curiosity grew by the day, you tried to respect his privacy by not digging into his history. 

His hesitation to talk about it was enough to signal to you that his memories were not all positive, so you hadn’t pushed—hoping that he’d feel comfortable enough to share his experiences with you on his own terms. The world had taken so much from Frank Castle, the least you could give him was his autonomy. 

Moving on from the photos, you shook your head to clear the images of Frank facing all of these horrors alone. You’d do your best to keep him company going forward. 

Hidden in an alcove near his bedroom was a beautifully crafted mahogany bookshelf, practically bursting with novels. Walking over to the magnificent piece, you began running your fingers over the worn spines of books by Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and the like. But, what stood out to you was the substantial collection of feminist novels and volumes of collected poetry. 

You heard a deep rumble behind you. “Ya gonna eat anythin’ or are ya too busy snoopin’?” Frank’s exaggerated grouse made you chuckle. His large hands balanced a pizza box and two beers. 

“I absolutely had you pegged as a ‘classic lit’ fan, but bell hooks?” You looked at him inquisitively, prying the beers from his hand and plopping yourself back on his worn couch. 

Frank simply shrugged, setting the pizza in front of the two of you. “She’s gotta different perspective than me. Sometimes it’s necessary to think about someone else’s view of the world, I guess.” 

“I absolutely agree. Talking Back is one of my favorites.” You smiled at him, heart spinning as you noticed a blush creeping up past his beard. 

Frank forced his mouth back into a scowl, refusing to dwell on the way his chest lightened after you expressed your approval for some of his more “controversial” literature. Throwing open the top of the pizza box, he snatched a piece and shoved it in his mouth to avoid looking at you. 

“You know, Frank, I’m starting to think you might have ordered this pizza for me, specifically. I seem to recall raving about the #3 from Capizzi when we passed the building last week.” You raised an eyebrow at him before grabbing a slice, closing your eyes as you practically inhaled it. 

Opening a beer, Frank didn’t turn to face you. “Dunno what you’re talking about.” 

“Aww, you like me, don’t ya, sweetheart.” You poked Frank’s shoulder, making him growl. Giggling once again at his persistent grouchiness, you snatched another slice of pizza. “Don’t be embarrassed, I like you too.” 

Frank refrained from smiling, eyes glancing towards you as you ate happily beside him. He was goddamn relieved that you’d accepted his offer. Not just because it meant he got to bask in your presence yet again, but also because there was no way the few bites of sandwich he’d seen you eat earlier was enough to satisfy your gorgeous self. He wasn’t quite sure why you ate so little, but he’d be damned if you starved on his watch. 

Startling slightly as your thigh pressed against his, he heard your melodic voice prompt him yet again. “Which classic author have you enjoyed the most?” 

“Dunno. Depends on the day. Recently, I’ve liked Hemingway. But he’s—dark.” Frank’s brow furrowed, worried that his honesty would reveal his demons and scare you away. 

“Makes sense that you’d like him then, you grumpy Gus.” You snorted, beaming at him as he rolled his eyes. “Just teasing. He’s a great author, despite the blatant sexism. Hills Like White Elephants is an incredible piece. It was on my mind for weeks the first time I read it.” 

“Not familiar with that one.” 

“It’s one of his short stories, just a little thing about a woman being ‘persuaded’ into an abortion. Definitely not the best pro-choice stance, but the symbolism is unique and it comments on an interesting dynamic of some relationships. It’s one of the only stories I actually remember from school, besides The Yellow Wallpaper. That one I can never forget.” You shuddered, turning your attention back to your pizza. 

“Don’t think I’ve read that one, either.”

“Oh Frankie, you have to read it. It’s dark as fuck…you’ll love it.” You grinned at him slyly, making him smirk. 

“You really are somethin’, ya know that?” Crossing his arms, Frank raised a brow as you cackled gleefully. 

“So I’ve been told. Someone’s gotta be a pain in your prickly ass, though.” You let your head fall against his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes. 

Stomach flipping at your affection, he gave into impulse and rested his forehead against the crown of your pretty head. “Better you than anyone else, sunshine.” 

He could feel your brow pinch as your nose scrunched with a smile. Your soft lips pressed a kiss to his shoulder before you pulled away. “Seriously though, you have to read that one. It’s such a mind fuck. I swear I still have nightmares about it.” 

Frank let out a breath, body melding into his mattress. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were easing the day to day pain he had grown accustomed to. You’d stumbled into his life on a whim and he was holding onto you for dear life. 

Though very few people had ever seen it, Frank’s loyalty meant he fell for people hard. The pain of losing his family made it easier to push people away, to shelter that part of himself, but you’d scaled those walls without breaking a sweat. You were pure sunshine, golden and heavenly, bringing life and love to those around you. He just hoped that he wasn’t the Hades to your Persephone. 

Falling asleep that night should not have been as easy as it was, but your presence had soothed his nerves. Breathing deeply, he replayed the sound of your laughter in his head until he drifted off to the image of your smile painted on his eyelids. 

Unfortunately, the peace you'd shrouded his apartment in was shattered by his subconscious. 

The nightmare started the same as always. A hazy view of his bedroom, lit by the sun shining through large windows. As he opens his eyes, there’s a figure in the doorway. She’s slender with dark hair and as she steps closer, her face sparks recognition. Maria. 

His late wife climbs into bed, pressing kisses to his limbs. He feels his body startle awake as his eyes settle on her smiling face. 

But it’s no longer Maria. 

Sitting in his lap, grinning back at him beautifully is you, his adorably kind neighbor. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” It’s your voice, not Maria’s, that makes him shudder with the familiar phrase. Before the dream can continue, the setting morphs. 

You’re in front of him, chained up like one of his Cerberus targets, blindfolded and gagged—struggling ferociously against your restraints. 

He hears his voice echoing across the cavernous space. Trying desperately to calm you while fighting his own shackles. 

“It’s ok, darlin’, it’ll be ok. I’m right here. Right here, babygirl.”

A malicious laugh washes over him and you go eerily still, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. A figure rounds your taut limbs, hand wandering over your figure. Frank growls, pulling with all of his strength. 

“Leave her alone, you son of a bitch, or so help me I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Billy Russo’s torn up face stares back at him, eyes glinting with power and rage. “Hmm she sure is a gorgeous little pet, isn’t she? How the hell did she end up with a monster like you?” Billy’s marred hand rubs your jaw making you whimper. He tugs off the fabric covering your eyes and they immediately fall on Frank, more tears cascading over your pretty face. Next to come off is the gag and you choke out a sob. 

“Go on, sweetheart. Ask him to save you.” Billy smirks, looking between the two of you. 

“Frank,” Your voice is hoarse and it kills him to hear such pain in it. “Frank, please! Please help me!” 

A cold steel barrel presses to your temple. Billy’s fingers flex over the trigger as he tilts his head toward you in false sympathy. “Sorry, little pet, but he can’t help you. It’s his fault you’re dead.” A gunshot rings out and Frank screams, eyes ripping open as his body rapidly separates from sleep. 

The nightmare replayed in his mind over and over the first night, your desperate pleas for help, the feeling of your warm blood spattering across Frank’s face. His mind’s manifestation of his former brother was right, he was going to get you killed. But the thought of pushing you away was just as hurtful. 

He was so fucked. 

Tag list: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight

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New Fic Preview

As the werewolf stands in Thornhill’s old room, she recites the incantations aloud whilst keeping the time she intends to travel to focused in her head, Six months, no later and no earlier. As Enid finishes, the runes on the floor disappear and she feels a bit of disappointment before the room, no, the entire house is engulfed in a blinding white light and Enid is thrown across the room, though knocked out before she even lands.

When Enid awakes, it’s not in her dorm mother’s dusty old room, instead, she’s buried underneath the mountain that is all her blankets and stuffed animals, and instead of cold hardwood floors, she’s sinking softly into the fluffy mattress beneath her. Her senses aren’t all quite intact and the world feels muffled around her, as if there’s a layer of fuzz around her body, keeping her separate from everything else. She swears she can hear someone walking around behind her, can just barely recognize the sensation of a hand on her shoulder through multiple layers of blankets and sheets.

Okie, so I'm not gonna lie... I've been busting my ass on writing absolutely nothing on any of the THREE wips I have going currently. There are two one-shots and one multi-chap that I don't even have a full first chapter done yet lol

The little sneak-peek above is from one of the one-shots that I'm actually taking a tiny break from to post this simply because I can't help myself lmaooooo

Anyway, this one-shot,,, isn't actually my idea. It's a half-inspiration piece/half-gifted work that is pulled from the brilliant mind of @streaminn and their wonderful ducks. Their AUs are just so much fun and honestly, they've been helping me cope with having half of my house being cordoned off with giant walls of plastic due to construction,,,,,, my life is a mess lol

Anyway, this here is just a tiny little preview so that I can get some good ol' dopamine and hopefully kick my brain back into hyperfixation mode lol. I have absolutely no idea when it's gonna be done, if it'll ever get done in the first place but I'm working at it lol.

I just want to make it very clear. This whole AU is not my idea and most of what's written is just my retelling of what's already been discussed on Stream's blog. Please, please give some love to the people who deserve it, all I'm doing is satisfying my itchy brainrot! Okie? OKIE!!

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 9]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). This one gets a li'l spicy if you know how to read between the lines; also both angsty and fluffy. Should know the drill on my use of Mando'a, italics and my headcanons by now if you’ve been following along with the AU series this far. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Implied use of One Bed Trope in regards to how and where Hunter slept. Body worship (centered for Hunter; Hunter’s body worship for Reader is a touch more… poetic so it is easy to apply to all sorts of fem-coded Readers 🩷). Consent and boundaries are sexy, folks!

Along with more vague references to Med!Reader’s past, which are up to the imagination of you the reader, there’s mention of Hunter’s war service, both canon and fictionalized just for the purpose of the fic. Brief and vague allusions to the experimentation of all members of CF99 at the hands of the Kaminoans and the “really bad mission” Omega mentioned that Tech knew more details of but it’s kept vague so it’s not explicit and gory [I know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea even for the age rating]. References to Hunter’s nightmares about Plan 99 and a strong implication of a *panic attack. Medic!Reader shows off a little more of why she’d be nicknamed a JOAT-med by helping Hunter through it in a healthy way; we don’t diminish feelings here.

Stuff starts getting more lighthearted after Wrecker pulls the third verbal “sorry, wrong comms!” moment of the series. Domestic!Clones content kicking off, be still my heart~

Word-count: 6,260

"Good morning…" The husky croak of the sergeant's morning-voice found itself unexpectedly in the shell of the woman's ear in the morning, both tangled up with the other so comfortably it felt deliberate. Nothing about right now suggested that hesitancy to scooch up beside her on the mattress so she could tend to that headache Hunter developed last night. How, this time, he'd been the one to fall asleep under her hands. His head, free of the bandana he'd tied too tight, settled on the tops of her thighs, his curled brown hair spilling freely across her lap as she'd massaged his head. 

"Mmm… Morning, handsome."

Handsome indeed… and she thought him resting on his stomach, resting his eyes for just a little… a minute more, mesh'la on the comfortable nest of bedding and pillows on the mattress top last night was something. (The unconscious way he'd found and swaddled the medic's Tooka doll named in memory of her first pet when she was still awake was nothing short of adorable, for certain.)

In the youthful hours of the new day that bare, warm skin in the light of the early morning sun glowed. Like each well-muscled limb was painted in grand, sweeping brushstrokes with nothing but courage and strength and love. The broad nose that scrunched up when he smiled, really smiled, when he had removed himself from participating in the antics of his brothers and sister in favor of watching it unfold before him for a change so he could drink those moments in forever; precious and happy and just for him. The solid, heavy hands that have grown so equally familiar with being tender now nearly a year after the end of the Clone Wars that it was just as natural as the weight of a DC-17 curled in his fingers. The warm amber shine where the curls of his hair caught and clung to that sunlight. 

And those tourmaline eyes. There were no traces or echoes of the torment they've witnessed beneath half-lidded and heavy, lazy and slow blinks as he looks at her in turn. There's only stability and serenity in this moment. A moment where "live to fight another day" has been traded for "I fought for another day to live… and Maker, is it a good one". There was only warmth. Adoring doe-eyes. 

A sleeping hunger that was starting to rear a curious head with the warm hand hiked around her waist, just barely under the hem of her shirt, slipping lower, under one of her thighs now. "Wo-woah, easy there," Hunter hummed reassuringly, the gritty snag of that syllable an answer to the high squeak of surprise, "I should have asked; sorry. Just trying to move your leg in a more comfortable position. May I?" 

"Oh, that's fine; your hand was just warmer than I expected," she giggled softly, her heartstrings tugged by how tenderly Hunter guided his hand around the soft, gentle curve of her thigh and so easily shifted her leg draped just over his hip so that her knee was now gently planted into the outermost edge of his own thigh. "Strong, too..." 

Strength. She'd heard some stories of his missions alongside his brothers of course, the reverential and awed retellings from Wrecker in particular. What was the saying again? Strong enough to rip the ears off a gundark? That ferocity that made even some ARCs and particularly battle-hardened brothers look at the copper tops with sympathy because breaking Clankers with nothing but a vibroknife and your bare hands is considered a sure suicide to the Clone brothers they of CF99 occasionally called "Regs". 

But there was this unorthodox brother who was doing just that and coming out on top every mission. Old and pale, slightly pinkish cross-hatching scars could be found as evidence of these reckless escapades and wild military exploits along each of his knuckles. There were some newer scars and scuffs in the mix, too. Evidence of violence out of necessity's sake for the safety and survival of his vode. 

Evidence of violence out of choice in fighting against the choking oppression of the Empire. 

In a breathy voice, [____] asks Hunter if she can take a closer look at the hand half-tucked in the space between his ear and shoulder on the spare pillow beside her own. There's something she had been messaged about by Tech when she tried asking what that incident during the war was Omega had alluded to on the Marauder before they made it back to the spaceport city they all called home the day Hunter had been injured. 

That felt like both a long, long time ago and only last week.

Sure enough. The little patch of ripping, slashed scar tissue across the back of his left hand. Almost naked to the untrained eye due to its age. Perhaps three years old at most, given the duration of the Clone Wars.

"Tech tell you about it?" 

"Only that it exists." [____] answers with a note of somberness. "Not the story." 

The husky note of the hum resonating from the sergeant's chest would have been charming and cute under different circumstances. The difficult look in his eyes and tight swallow of his throat as he too looked at this old trophy forever etched in his flesh said a lot. 

"He… may not wish to tell you this tale, my friend. It's not an easy memory for any of us to dwell on."

"It was bad, wasn't it? Your brothers - just Tech, really - suggested that this is only spoken of as a hellish nightmare. That Omega knows… only a small part." Her steady thumb swept over the scar smoothed with time when she spoke, careful to watch his face, the telltale tensing of his lower jaw that always came before the deep breath. When it started with the faint movement of working his jaw she stopped him, gently reminding him that he didn't have to budge his boundaries for her. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want me to know… I just have a habit of saying the things I think out loud, sometimes. Comes with the profession after so long…"  

It was up to him to divulge the story. Just because they were beginning to get more personally involved now didn't make her privileged to such things at the drop of a helmet. They hadn't even put a name to it yet; just calling each other relatively general, plain little pet names for the time being. Beautiful. Handsome. Sweetheart. 

So it surprised her when he swallowed tightly once more and pressed that broad nose to her carotid artery just deep enough she could feel and time her own pulse in her neck if she wished. The warm breath that ghosted over the delicate and bare canvas of her skin was a touch pleasant and unsettling as Hunter decided he'd say something. His low and smoky voice sounds like the rolling waves of the ocean so close to her ear. "It was my first mission since my training was completed on Kamino… the first taste of the battlefield where I had to put my, uh…" 

"Your 'skill sets'?" she offered softly. No harsh connotations of mutations or enhancements or the like in those two words. As hoped, it helped.

"... Had to put my skill sets to the test for the first time beyond the controlled scenarios of the training ranges and instruction rooms. There was a roller; ah, that'd be a droideka…" he paused, clarifying the slang.

Death-balls. The words of an innocent farmer from another time, another planet, another health center, rang in her ears with the memory of the sharp scream of a zippered body bag being pulled open to follow the chilling last words and a desperate effort to resuscitate her patient. 

"Those death-balls trampled my nysillin crops and I was trying to stop them and- Miss, I don't feel so good. Everything's cold…"

Hunter's dark eyes squeezed closed, brows snapping, screwing hard against the retelling. "I slipped past one's shield and tried to plant a droid popper, but… the next thing I remember is Tech's - or Crosshair's or Wrecker's - bare hands covered in blood up to the wrist and so much pressure, deep in my side. Woke up once to someone holding me down in an improvised bacta tank… It's all so hazy beyond that, now." The hand he'd moved to her hip after hoisting her leg into a new position by the gentle curve of her thigh squeezed firmly for just a moment in the murky memory. 

"S-shit…" In his side? Like that farmer she'd struggled to hold together… That sour copper tang that took hours to scrub herself of… "S-stop. I'm sorry I asked. Made you think about that. Shit, I'm so-" 

"Mesh'la…" Hunter crooned in soft rebuke, hand at her hip floating up to her cheek to brush away the threatening tears before they ever fully fell. He took a deep breath, the briney bouquet hung heavily between both of them, masking the thinned notes of antiseptic he could catch in her hair and the perfume of the gel body cleansers she kept in her fresher at home being this close. "Hey-hey, easy: I'm sorry too. I'm not the only one carrying scars and horror stories." His eyes glazed over the now faint mark on her dominant arm leftover from the time she had thought to look into the scavenger's tip about abandoned medical supplies just a planet away. 

A trip he hadn't wanted her to go through with, admittedly. 

What if the Empire caught her snooping around that rusted facility and got her? What if they had asked if someone knew she was out there, and Imperial attention sniffed them out; discovered they were still alive after the bombardment of Kamino? 

What if? What if? What if?  

He'd been grateful that Echo, ever helpful and diligent in his pursuit in the belief of doing the right thing, told [____] he expected regular check-ins while she took her personal frequency transponder and starship out there. 

"You should pack this" and a stern but kind reminder in the form of "no-no, it's a good idea but that's going to slow you down kid; get rid of that and carry only what you absolutely need when you make your ascent up the mountain to the boomtown" when he asked to inspect the supplies she intended to take the night before.  

Grateful that she listened and Crosshair made a joking half-complaint that she was checking in maybe a little too much.  

You guys should see this view, it ain't half-bad. 

>I believe you. Too bad there's no view-capture function on that comms transponder.

...

Oops sorry, hit my emergency button by mistake on some of the shale, but everything's fine!

>You sure?

Yes, Ech, I'm sure! 

*Echo

>Okay. 

...

Okay. I've made it to the facility… If you don't hear from me in say… a standard hour? 

>Good luck, kid. Hope you find what you're looking for in there. Be. Safe.

I will, Echo. Promise.  

...

Ew, so many bugs in there, I'm getting the hell out. Starting my descent down the mountain now so I'll get in contact with you when I reach my ship. Don't want to slip and fall, haha. 

>No, we definitely don't want that for our favorite medic. Take your time climbing down, kid. Should we save you a plate? It's Crosshair's night to cook. 

There were other scars she bore. Nicks from a clumsy med student with a scalpel. A faded and stretched-out patch of scar tissue from a badly scraped knee as a little girl while playing games in the schoolyard with or without friends. A mark unique to the grazing from long-range blaster fire he'd seen on many brothers of the GAR… that one made his stomach twist.

His hand shifted from the apple of her cheek, skimming over her cheekbone with the meaty heel of his hand as he moved to thread his fingers through her hair, the way he'd watched her do with Omega on a few occasions now. Not to mention that absolutely heavenly occurrence last night. The slight involuntary and shivering gasp between them drew a chuckle from them both. "Hah… Guess that works on both of my favorite girls." Hunter teased, a budding sense of accomplishment rising in his chest when [____] smiled sweetly and lifted her head off of the pillow to reposition herself closer, calmer than she'd been a moment ago. 

They were now sharing the same pillow, forehead to forehead. "Let me know when, if you want me to stop." He hoped it would be a while yet before that, the softness and health of her hair made it enjoyable, soothing, to run his fingers through, root to tip, again and again. 

He didn't think he could ever possibly get sick of doing this. Hunter had always silently admired her hair, the length, the cut, the common ways she would style it… The way the color gleamed with a soft luster like a halo, like a work of art depicting a figure of divinity in a house of worship, as the sun bloomed over the horizon and spilled in over the windowsill. 

[____] stamped a kiss somewhere above the slope of his nose, between his brows. Shifting the rest of her body so close to him that she could easily try to start something with just the right "wrong" words. (Careful darling…) "Just don't put me back to sleep. Trying to keep me home instead of opening my clinic today? And how else would I stare at your handsome face?" she hummed wistfully, the sound pleasant to his ears. 

"Would that really be so bad if you did, mesh'la?" Hunter purred in return, a smile pinching his cheeks at the idea. It sure sounded tempting to him. But [____] frowned softly, the action catching Hunter off guard just for the moment. 

"I really should open my clinic today, though, as much as I don't want to," [____] confessed selfishly, kissing her brow bone deeper into Hunter's for just a moment with a sigh, "so I'd have to get ready… eventually. But this is…" They both knew. Neither wanted their little moment together, undisturbed, to end. They might not get a lot of moments like these with the unrelenting demands of the galaxy at large. 

So close they could smell the other, limbs entangled and just beginning to tingle with improper blood circulation; so close, if they wished… 

"Your brothers will probably bombard you with questions whenever you get home." was given in a warning chuckle instead.

"Oh, you're... Probably right about that, actually." Hunter conceded after a moment of thought. Crosshair might have a select few jokes, Tech a select few prying questions, and Wrecker was a wildcard. He'd either have forgotten that Hunter hadn't been home last night, or he'd remember and just ask if he had a nice night with no intentional innuendo. Echo was much more likely to make it purposeful, but he wouldn't toe the line too much. "Might have to pull something out of the squad strategy book." Hunter said, half-jokingly.

She chuckled warmly, pulling back so his whole face was in view again, a brow buckling just so. "Strategy book, hm? Something about… oh let's see… resisting interrogation, I'd imagine?" 

He tucked a little of her hair that had fallen out of place back neatly before answering her. "Heh. Just what I was thinking of, actually. Plan 2: give them nothing." 

"Awh, don't think you'd have to go so far as to give them nothing," [____] giggled, "it's not like you couldn't talk about what we had for dinner. Or does Plan 2 really mean nothing?" 

Hunter shrugged. "It can be… flexible."

"Stars… Don't know if I should find that worrying or relieving." She held the nail of her thumb between her teeth in thought, eyebrows knitting together. "I imagine, and you don't have to tell me about any of them, a lot of these are… worrying. Scary, even." Her frown deepened with the stiff nod and forced swallow.

She had no idea.

Hunter could think of one, immediately. One prospective plan that became more frightening the longer he and his squad, now truly and undeniably his family, had survived the Clone Wars. One that became a thing of nightmares with Omega in their fold as they had evaded Imperial attention. 

A reason out of many why he hesitates to join Captain Rex's efforts regularly. 

The final plan. That plan, named in-memoriam of a brave, humble brother who lost his life in the thwarted Separatist invasion of Kamino in one final act of bravery and selflessness. 

99. 

A defective Clone who was resigned to maintenance and clean up, but still tasted war. 99 died a hero when the Kaminoans told him he'd never be a soldier. How wrong the long-necks were. They often were. Not only had Hunter made sure of it in many cases by personally sticking his neck out for his men- no not just his men, his brothers - but sometimes they had been truly lucky not to get… decommissioned if a test went wrong. They were trying to live on in 99's honor. They hoped they were making 99 proud when they'd been soldiers of the GAR. 

But the possibility of following 99's legacy; that's what haunted him, loomed over his thoughts after every near-miss or a particularly tight squeeze during the Clone Wars, and now the rising of this oppressive Empire. When he felt himself, his very soul, flickering across the boundary of life and death after the failsafe bomb primed and went off when he rounded a left-hand corner aboard that prisoner ship, he was sure he would have taken that taste of a bitter legacy. 

Those soured dreams where the darkness around him was so thick he was damn near choking on it and no one could hear him crying out for his brothers; the fear black and bold and blustering when he'd hear those damn words, and in a flash, see the clues of which vode had fallen to a fearsome foe. 

Shards of crumbling, yellow glass. A shattered, bloodied scope. The smoking and scorched, splitting helmet. A hand, outstretched, amid rubble too heavy to lift. The black-painted trooper doll, her limbs laying in weird angles after being dropped so suddenly. 

Plan 99 was a dreaded footprint to follow. Maker, he hoped they never came to need that karking plan. 

A familiar, tender hand wove through the heavy curtain of dark hair that was falling into his face the more Hunter lost himself in this swell of fear with his eyes stinging so sharply now; the careful, honeyed croon of her voice felt so… intimate. But also so, so nurturing and consoling. "Hey... It's okay; a little crying never hurt anyone. I won't judge or mock you for crying."

He could feel the hot tears on his face, dripping on the pillow below his cheek, and still he denied it in a shaken voice. "I'm not…" He wasn't sure why he did that when [____] was sweetly minding his tears. "I'm n-not-"

"You're not anywhere you need to pretend to be brave, Hunter. We all have something we're afraid of, don't we?" she asked softly, pulling him into her arms and holding him so close, chest to chest. "I know you're scared of losing your brothers and your sister to the Empire… or just in general. It's a rough galaxy out there; there's no telling what can happen." Pausing, she was careful to keep her voice calm and soothing, trying to give Hunter some time to consider what she was saying. "No telling just what you all get up to until someone's come to my clinic. It's… why I worry about my favorite group of rowdy rule-breakers, y'know? Both of us worry about your brothers and sister… in our own way for our own, but probably similar, reasons…" 

The confession is only slightly surprising to Hunter; he just nods to show he's listening as [____] continues to hold him close to her, a hand cradling his head and tousling his hair as he tries listening to his breathing or her heartbeat as instructed so he can try to ground himself. "So when Echo thought he was hailing Captain Rex, and said you'd gotten hurt, that was probably the first in a long, long time I've been quite that scared. I didn't want to lose a friend; especially to acting against the Empire." 

Hunter swallows, guilt heavy on his tongue. "I'm sorry, [____], I should have tol-"

"No Hunter," she stops him, arms tightening around his upper body, "you shouldn't have told me what the six of you planned on doing. Well, seven including Captain Rex, I guess. I… don't know how I would've taken it, in that moment. Honestly I doubt it would have been… great." She takes a moment to reassure, to comfort Hunter that yes, it's really okay if he needs to cry right now, she understands. Whatever it was he thought of scared him, and it's healthy and natural and normal to react to what scares us. She'd never tell him to man up or soldier through it. 

Silence falls over them eventually, uneasy and anxious at first; the feeling peters out with time, [____] musing her dominant hand most of all through his hair, nails grazing his scalp from time to time. 

Once again, it's just beginning to make Hunter drowsy. Hadn't been awake very long, but there's also something about anxious spells and tears that really takes it out of a lifeform. "Still have your headache from last night?" [____] speaks in a delicate voice, nails trailing from the crown of his head and through the dark brown curls of hair all the way to the ends. Stars above, it was such a divine, blissful feeling… Hunter wags his head softly, eyes beginning to flutter. 

"Oh good… good." She croons, and he can hear the smile in her voice before she warns Hunter she can't stay behind and snuggle up on the bed with him forever, but he's welcome to help himself to some breakfast before he leaves. "Can probably get away with this for about five more minutes, before I really have to go, big g-"

Fwreep! Fwreep! 

Both sat up carefully, looking at the communication devices sitting next to one another on the other side of the room. "Was that mine or your's?" Hunter asked, his voice still thick and choked with emotion exaggerating the befuddled tone. 

[____] shrugs, getting up before it trills again, and answering it for him when it does. "Don't think that was mine. My guess is it's one of your brothers realizing you aren't home. You conked out on me hard last night and I didn't want to risk waking you. Hello?"

There's an unmistakable Wrecker yawn on the other end of the communications channel. "Hey, Tech: sorry tah add to the list while you're out but- haaAWH! - whoops, sorry about tha'... Uh, Omega's nearly out of the cereal she likes and she'll be waking up soon."

[____] chuckles softly, bringing the device back over to Hunter with a kiss on the cheek as she joins him on the mattress again, Hunter slumping against her comfortably with his forehead on her shoulder. Sith's hells he was going to get those five minutes. "Good morning, Wreck! Afraid you comm'd Hunter instead of Tech."

His brother groaned, sounding apologetic through the muttering. "I swear I don't do this on purpose; these buttons are so small! S-sorry about that, Hunter… and [____]. Hope I didn't wake ya."

"Don't worry, Wrecker." Hunter said, a rumble of laughter under the reassurance. "You didn't…"

The front door of Clone Force 99's housing was just up ahead, as was the smell of caf - a very familiar, slightly bitter blend. "Good morning, Hunter," Crosshair called from the stoop. 

The same step, the same place on the right hand side, where he had sat waiting for Crosshair to come back home all night long once. 

There was a hug for him, too. Probably intended to be brief, and it was a little awkward because Hunter could tell Crosshair had been asleep not too long ago, but no less warm and familiar. "Uh, good morning to you too, Cross... What's going on?" 

Crosshair didn't really do hugs, much like Tech. 

The art gallery approach: you look, and you don't touch. 

"It's just a hug, dummy. Don't read too much into it." came the reply in a smooth, silken voice. No tone as cold as meltwater. No deliberate hiss so sharp and terse that it could cut the recipient to tears. Just… soft. Pleasant. 

"Awh. I was only gone a night, vod. Miss me that much?" Hunter needled instead in warm timbres, reminding Crosshair that while he hadn't been there for dinner because he'd gone and collected [____] from her clinic right around the end of her business hours, he had been there for lunch because she had suggested he'd want to leave. 

"Lunch-rush always stinks like a sarlacc pit that took a bath in Rhydonium fuel in this kriffing spaceport with all these starships coming and going. Don't want you getting a headache, handsome."

A brief shrug. "Nothin' we… I was gonna cry about… good for you for having a night to do something for yourself, honestly." Crosshair admitted. "Tech's back from the shops already, and starting to get grouchy, by the way." he added in warning, still stuck tight to Hunter like clingmoss. It was clear enough now that Crosshair wasn't letting Hunter go any time soon, and the gentle words of the medic came back to him. That first hug since Kaller. It had meant so much to Cross, and Hunter had believed for many months that the brotherly embrace was merely tolerated… 

"What kind of grouchy?" Hunter inquired, wondering how concerned he'd need to be. "Is he 'can't find something to do' grouchy?" Like Wrecker, Tech could get a little snippy if he didn't find something to fully satisfy the deep inset demands of his skill sets (kriff calling it their "programming"). 

Wrecker could abate the instinctual needs easily enough by cobbling together weaponry that looked like it was a wrong wire away from being a death-device or hoisting crates of medical supplies into [____]'s clinic as a way to help her out between opportunities when Hunter could find a nice, quiet little spot away from the spaceport and Wrecker could blow something up. 

It was Tech that could get tricky, surprisingly. 

"Oh he has found something to do; he's in a mood to fix things. The problem is he's run out of things to fix." Crosshair partially let go of Hunter, eyeing the door warily. "There is something I think would scratch the nerd's itch… Doc mentioned that a droid named something like "Patch" wasn't working, but she doesn't want to break the warranty." 

Hunter frowned, partly since he didn't know (or remember) anything about a broken medi-droid, and mostly because Tech was still slightly upset about the nerd jabs. Cross had agreed to tone it down over lunch yesterday. "I didn't forget. I'm not calling him that within earshot; relax, sarge." 

"Still…" Hunter warned out of habit, a sense of responsibility. "Please be careful about it?" Crosshair nodded and promised he would before he finally released Hunter, bending over to grab his mug of caf. Hunter trotted up the steps ahead of the marksman and braced himself for the barrage of questions before opening the blastdoor, his uniquely attuned sense of hearing catching the voices of the others even from outside giving him pause for a different reason. 

"Crosshair's been outside a while, think he's waiting for Hunter or is he just enjoying his caf outside for a change?" Echo, probably asking Tech this question in an attempt to distract him. 

"Ehhh… not sure. I know Hunter woulda let us know if he wasn't comin' back home yet. First time he's done something jus' for 'imself in a while. Ma-maybe ever? Without worrying about one'a us, too, I hope…" Wrecker, sounding a little somber.

(Oh, vod… that now made two comments on doing something for himself.)

Seizing a perceived opportunity, Crosshair cheekily hit the key to the blastdoor and used a single hand to all but frog-march Hunter into the house ahead of him with a mischievous laugh. "Quit stalling, Hunter! Not polite to go eavesdropping on your siblings." Put right in Wrecker's line of sight, his protesting vod was finally released only when Crosshair knew there was no escape for their leader-brother, unless Hunter vaulted over the sofa in a desperate bid to escape that crushing embrace sure to come, what little was left of his tender, healing injuries be damned.

Wrecker's excited bellowing would have easily woken the whole street. "HUNTER!! Hey-hey, you're back!" 

There was a loud pop from his lower back as Hunter got hoisted off the floor by the biggest of the brothers, both painful and a little relieving to have that kink worked out of his spine since waking up in [____]'s bed. "H-hey, Wrecker. Good morning to you too." Wrecker set Hunter back on his feet and gave him some space before the questions started. "Ya hungry? We've still got some stuff out that we made breakfast with."

"Or some of my cereal, since it's spice-dough and fruit pastries!" Omega offered from the table in the breakfast nook before stuffing a spoon in her mouth. 

Hunter shook his head with a little smile. "Thank you guys, but I'm not hungry. Had breakfast at [____]'s place before I came home." 

Omega tossed a hand in the air at shoulder level to signify she had something to say, but just needed time to chew and swallow first. Good table manners some of the other vode needed to work on. "Did you have a nice time last night?" She broke into a wide grin at her brother's nod. "Oh good! We were kinda… not concerned, exactly, that you didn't come home last night. We didn't know you were planning on staying the night at [____]'s."

"It… wasn't exactly in the plans," Hunter admitted carefully, keeping his ears perked for any signs of laughter from Crosshair or Echo, "it just kinda happened. Ended up with a raging headache after dinner; I tied my bandana too tight before I left the house and it just caught up with me."

Wrecker looked mortified, now suddenly concerned about his earlier booming outburst. "D-do you still have the headache? Kriff, I'm sorry for being so loud, I-I didn't-" 

He was shaking his head, Wrecker falling silent. "No-no, it's okay guys," Hunter interrupted him, raising a comforting hand out to Wrecker, "it's gone. She found a way to take care of it and it ended up putting me to sleep." 

Echo chuckled softly, nodding knowingly from his mysterious and storied experience with GAR medics. "And [____] wouldn't want to risk messing with good results like a good medic, so she just let you sleep. Sometimes, it's just the easiest choice. Glad it's gone though, brother."

Hunter nodded in agreement, sighing with great relief. "Me too… Would've been a lot more uncomfortable trying to eat breakfast with Spoon trying to nuzzle her nose through every last inch of my hair." He quickly remembered that the offhanded comment wouldn't make much sense to the rest of them aside from the marksman, and Crosshair was cracking up in the kitchenette, rinsing his mug out in the sink. "Ah, so you met doc's new little Tooka friend, didja?" 

Omega's eyes were enormous with surprise and wonder at the question. "[____] has a Tooka?!" 

"Mhm." Hunter nodded, checking that his bandana wasn't tied too snug while he thought back to what she'd requested before stepping out the door to get her health practice opened for the day after kissing his cheek and teased him for being slightly prickly with the fine layer of stubble growing in. 

"Huh, guess I didn't notice you hadn't shaved in a few days… Hey, if you don't mind and you guys aren't planning on anything big today, would you mind dropping by my place around lunch and making sure she's doing okay since Spoon's still settling in? Something tells me it's not gonna be an easy day at work… Maker, thank you, appreciate it. Love you!" 

"I'm sure [____] won't mind if you come over with me when I go check on her to make sure Spoon's settling in okay around lunchtime." Hunter offered, his own grin quickly matching his sister's. There was also something else he'd noticed and wanted to show her if he could bring her over to the medic's house. "It'll be a nice break from what I have in mind for today. I'm going to check on Tech beforehand, though, excuse me." Stepping down the hall from the common room, it sounded like Tech was ambling around the bedroom he and Wrecker shared through the door. Hunter rapped his knuckles on the upper panel, then waited a moment before speaking to wait for a response. Nothing. "Tech? Can I talk to you for a moment, vod?" 

"Not in the mood…" Tech replied brusquely, locking the door. The sharp snap of the mechanism stung Hunter's eardrums, but if Tech needed some space, he'd provide it. "That's fine. Just one last question that [____] wanted me to ask: bacta-gel helping with the injury around your eye?"

His brother's voice was less stiff this time. "Yes."

"That's go-"

"And I'm taking breaks from wearing my goggles as she suggested." 

"That's good," Hunter repeated, this time without interruption before he gave the upper panel a soft pat, "I'll let [____] know. Just let us know if you need anything, hm? Leaving you be, now." He did as he promised and stepped into his own bedroom, pulling the door closed so he could change into fresh clothing for the day. 

It would mean he'd lose the smell of her home so close to him, however… well, he'll just tuck the shirt in with the rest of the laundry later, perhaps. 

Maybe he'd have to ask what she washed her sheets in, too. Each smell had been so strangely comforting and grounding; snapshots of the first time just the two of them had each other for undivided company. No patients vying for her attention. No vode to fret over with his conditioning… aside from the surfacing thought of that plan when [____] correctly speculated some of these "plans" were far cries from humorous and... 

No, that was enough. 

>Tech says the injury around his eye is doing better thanks to the bacta-gel. Hope you have a better day than you're expecting at your clinic, mesh'la. 

He set things aside on his desk for the time being and set his bed back in order after getting redressed. Or, would have. "Kriff… have the sheets always been that thin?" There was a muffled laugh from the wall he shared with Crosshair. "Finally noticed?" came the amused drawl. 

Hunter simply sighed before balling up the threadbare top sheet and tossing it aside once he stripped it from the bed. "...yeah. Guess I… thought it wasn't as bad? I dunno." he admits, shrugging even when Crosshair wouldn't be able to see it with a physical wall between them. 

"We're buying you new sheets once you figure out what color we're painting your room so things match up." 

"Hah! Nothing to figure out," Hunter laughed, hearing Cross pause in fixing up his own bed, "pretty sure I know what I want." 

Crosshair scoffed sharply at the playful tone, returning the sentiment in kind before the habitual slip-up. "Keep your secrets then, Hunter. Wouldn't be the first ti- shit." A groan of frustration with himself seeps past Crosshair's lips.

Kriff that crumbling mental wall between them, Hunter was not having it anymore and tearing the rest of it down. Cross was of a similar mind, clearly, as each of them knocked into one another stepping out of their respective rooms. 

"Oh Maker-" Echo moaned, the mug of caf in hand falling away from his face just as he was about to have a drink, "really? Don't tell me you're arguing through the wall again!" 

"We're not!" The marksman and tracker spoke in unison before Crosshair grabbed Hunter by the collar and shoved him back into his room, shutting Hunter's door. 

Omega, finished with breakfast but still sitting at the table, and now pouring over the pages of paint samples for the fifth time, just smiled softly to herself. "Mm…"

Echo grumbled with confusion, seating himself on the sofa. "What's with them?" 

Wrecker shrugged. "... don't sound like arguin'." 

"They're probably talking about what happened after Kaller and before your chips were removed." Omega hypothesized, moving to rest her cheek in her hand as she continued to turn the pages, looking at the selection of greens and blues. More to herself, she just murmured an emphatic "karking finally…!" under her breath with a little smirk. 

"Heard that," Echo chuckles warningly at first, but before long it's too genuine to be an act, "but I think that "karking" is more than warranted, so just this once, we won't tell our vod." he adds with a wink as Wrecker begins to laugh himself silly hearing Omega swear.

Taglist: @dragonrider9905  @ladytano420  @the-hexfiles @ilovethosebrowneyes9904

Note from Frost: Woof that’s a lotta italics this round... If you would like to be added to the taglist that is currently just specific for Sorry, Wrong Comms!, (I may start a taglist for all Star Wars related fanfiction projects that will be marked accordingly with #frostfics in the near future if there is interest) don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or a comment loves. 🩷

[*Hunter is the leader of the Bad Batch and you're gonna tell me this man doesn't have mad anxiety? To me it makes sense that this man has to have so much anxiety and nightmares about That Plan when it comes to his family! So if I didn’t break your heart enough with talking about Hunter’s nightmares, go check out this.]

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[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Much Ado and Many Hugs

First in the planned series “Just Married”. 

Part 2 /  Part 3 / Bonus / Part 4 / Part 5

Steve Harrington x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: The Reader and her husband, Steve, are about to embark on their two-week long honeymoon road trip. The Party has come to see them off. 

Warnings: Swearing, references to sex, a very much alive and very much bisexual Eddie Munson, a bit o’ fluff. 

A/N: I had originally intended for this series to be super fluffy with maybe one smut piece, but seeing how this particular chapter went definitely switched my planning up. There will be smut galore. Also, that horrible excuse for a graphic was done on my phone and I apologize from the deepest parts of my soul for how just... awful it is.

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"Hold still, Y/N," Robin says. "Both of you, smile!"

You haven't stopped smiling, though; from the moment you said "I do", your cheeks have been permanently plump with joy, almost sore with how your smile refuses to quit. The same could be said for Steve, who stands with his arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed to your back as the two of you pose for the picture you insisted on having to document the very beginning of your honeymoon.

Robin presses the button and the camera spits out a Polaroid picture. It's dark at first, but the picture soon develops; you and Steve, ready to face this road trip of a honeymoon head on, stand in front of your recently purchased second-hand camper, before being surrounded by the kids (if you could even call these college-aged adults “kids” anymore) who came to see you off.

"Now one with all of us," Dustin insists, planting himself next to Steve as he beckons the whole Party forward.

Max and Lucas snuggle in next to you while El, Mike, Will, Nancy, and Jonathan fill out the back row. Eddie gets in front, laying on the ground and making the usual flamboyant show of himself.

"Come on, Robin," you say.

"Who's gonna take the picture?"

Conveniently, yours and Steve's neighbor passes by the small crowd, and you point at her. Robin catches her eye and politely asks if she would do the honors. Your neighbor smiles, nodding and taking the camera in hand.

"Say cheese!" she says as soon as Robin joins in.

"Cheeeeeeeese!" the party sings as your neighbor hits the button.

The camera spits out another photo, and your neighbor hands them back to Robin, who thanks her and shakes her hand.

"Look at this," Robin says, and the group gathers around to see the photo.

There are smiles all around, each and every one showing teeth, but there's one smile in particular you're searching for; Steve didn't even look at the camera, his big brown eyes set on you and his lips curled into the softest of expressions. His arm is around your shoulders, holding you close. Next to him, your eyes are closed from laughter and your cheeks puffed with a smile. Laced throughout the Party is joy, happiness, laughter, something you've all been needing since '83. It's like your wedding photos all over again.

"God, can we retake this?" Dustin says with a huff. "Steve's just looking at Y/N."

"Ever the romantic, Dustin," Max teases, rolling her eyes playfully. "It's actually really cute."

You glance up at Steve, catching him watching you before you pluck the picture from Robin's hands.

"It's perfect," you say.

"I'd say so," Steve replies.

"How long are you two love birds gonna be gone again?" Eddie asks, brushing himself off.

"Two weeks," Steve answers. "We're not touring the whole country, but we're gonna get started on it."

"A road trip for a honeymoon, though," Jonathan says, putting his arm around Nancy. "That's definitely an original idea."

You glance at Steve with a gleaming smile, remembering the conversation you had with him in the early days of your relationship; the pair of you had to be on the same page for the future, of course, especially in regards to your ideals and desires for the future. There were a few details to iron out between you, but for the most part, marriage and parenthood had always been something you both agreed on. The way he described wanting to hop in a camper with his six ("Six?!" you had exclaimed) little nuggets and see the country put his soul on display, lighting him up from the inside out. That day you knew deep down in your bones that you were going to marry Steve Harrington.

Your decision on a road trip for a honeymoon is basically family planning, an opportunity to scout out the best sites to take however many kids the pair of you end up having.

"It was her idea," Steve says, with a smile.

"The road trip was your idea, actually," you reply. "It was just my idea to do it for a honeymoon."

You watch as Dustin lugs your suitcase to the camper, grinning from ear to ear as the rest of the kids follow him inside. 

“Sounds like fun,” Eddie says. He looks at the two of you, mischief in his eyes. “So, how much of this road trip are you actually gonna spend seeing things and how much are you gonna spend, you know, bumping uglies?”

“Eddie!” Robin chastises, whacking one of his shoulders while Nancy whacks the other. 

You, however, take the joke in stride. 

“I don’t know, Eddie,” you laugh, waggling the camera at him. “But if you’re really that interested, we could take pictures and send them back to you.”

Eddie’s jaw drops, his eyes going wide with excitement. “You’d do that?”

“In your fucking dreams, Munson,” Steve says; there's little malice left in his voice anymore toward Eddie, especially in his post-nuptial phase. He gives him a good-natured shove, chuckling.

Eddie pauses for a moment as the rest of you start to meander toward the camper.

“What?” he says defensively. “You’re both hot, what do you want from me?”

Climbing in, you see that the Party have already made themselves comfortable on the furniture; El, Mike, and Will occupy the small couch while Lucas and Dustin bicker over who gets to try the bed out first. Max peeks into the cabinets and into the fridge before she looks up to see the elder members of the Party.

"Alright," Steve shouts over the noise, successfully getting a hold of everyone's attentions. "Look, we really appreciate you guys coming to see us off, but you gotta get your asses out of our RV, okay? We're already behind schedule."

"Okay, Dad," Dustin teases as he and Lucas rejoin everyone in the small space.

"Call me that again, Henderson, and see what happens."

"No," Eddie says, planting his hand on Dustin's shoulder. "He's not a dad yet. Although," he continues with a grin, "I do believe that by the time they come back, they might have changed that."

Eddie breaks into laughter as Dustin glances between you and Steve in confusion. It takes a moment for the remark to set in before his face contorts.

"Ew," he says, pushing past the group as Steve rolls his eyes and you giggle.

"Why are you so obsessed with our sex life?" Steve asks Eddie.

"Probably because he's not getting any right now," Robin jokes.

She and Nancy approach you with a small wrapped box you hadn't seen before, and they press it into your hands.

"Open this when you get on the road," Nancy says.

"What is it?" you ask, your fingers already itching to tear the wrapping paper off.

"It's just a little something to get his blood flowing," Robin says with a wink.

You snort. "Do you know how easy it is to get his blood flowing?"

Nancy tries to suppress a grin that Jonathan apparently doesn't notice, and Robin chuckles.

"Yeah," Robin concedes. "He is a horny little dude."

"Okay!" Steve shouts one more time. "Everybody out! It's almost ten o'clock, and we're already late! Let's go!"

He ushers the group back out into the summer sun. You leave the present on the passenger seat before you follow them out, eager for last-minute hugs and well-wishes. El and Max grab you first, pulling you in for a hug, before Dustin and Eddie steal you from them.

"Have fun, you guys," Eddie says before he shoves Dustin away. He puts his arms around you and Steve, pulling the two of you close. "Have a lot of fun. I'll be waiting on the news that I'm gonna be an uncle, just so you know."

"Don't worry," you say as Steve rolls his eyes yet again. "I'll write you a postcard with all the details of how we conceived."

Eddie seems to contemplate your offer.

"Are you fucking with me again? Because I think you know I'd love that."

"Sure thing, Eddie," Steve says sarcastically, shoving him away with a laugh.

After much ado and many hugs, you and Steve board the camper, closing the door behind you. Steve hops into the driver's seat and you take up the passenger seat with Nancy and Robin's present in hand. The camper roars to life and Steve puts it into gear. Outside the window, the Party waves and shouts as Steve backs into the road. A few of the kids chase after the camper as the journey starts, only stopping when you reach a speed they can't keep up with. You keep a fond eye on the Party in the rear view mirror until they shrink, and Steve turns a corner.

"It's just us now, babe," he says, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

"Hell yeah it is," you answer. "Which reminds me..."

You gently take your hand back and focus on the present; your fingers excitedly tear the paper off, showing you a blank white box. You scoot the top off and gasp at the contents.

"Oh, Steve," you say as he slows for a stop sign. "Look."

You pull a lacy pair of black panties from the box with one hand, the matching bra with the other, as you smile wide at your husband.

He turns, his jaw dropping immediately as his eyes grow cloudy.

"I'm gonna need you to put those on right now," he says.

You giggle, spotting a note in the bottom of the box as you put the garments away.

"Happy Honeymoon, Y/N and Steve," you read aloud. "We hope you have fun seeing the sights, but we hope you have more fun when Steve sees this sight. Enjoy! Love, Robin and Nancy."

Steve shifts in his seat, moving his hand to the crotch of his jeans to adjust himself.

"Babe, I -"

The sound of a horn blaring behind you cuts him off before the two of you remember you're at a stop sign. Steve presses the accelerator, moving the camper forward once more.

You can't help but giggle.

"Don't worry, baby," you say, reaching over to grab his thigh. "We'll have plenty of time for that."

"But I want it noooowwww," he whines adorably, glancing at you every few seconds as he drives.

"Patience, Mr. Harrington."

"Not when it comes to my sexy as fuck wife, Mrs. Harrington," he retorts.

You smile, tossing the present into the living space behind you. The warmth of the moment settles throughout your body and you relax into the seat, lacing your fingers with Steve's as you journey on into marriage.

This, you think, is going to be so fun.

[shirohige-pirates]

Just Like Fire

CisFem Reader x Portgas D. Ace

CW: angst, language, erotic, violence, serial killer, stalking, poisoning, over-bearing controlling parents, attempted forced marriage, possible dub-con, Munchausen by proxy (aka Factitious Disorder), wildly cute and fluffy despite the warnings. 18+ only

Summary: You're Sabo's biological sister in this AU. After college you moved in with your dear brother and his two sworn brothers in order to avoid going back home. You and Sabo despise your family equally.

Chapter 10: New Medication

“My apologies, but what did you just say?” You ask, interrupting Ichiji.

The morning had been a flurry of getting breakfast cooked, and lunches packed as everyone scampered off to work, and then you had taken a nap. Sleeping in the tent had been comfortable enough, but none of you had slept very long before you had to get moving again.

Sabo had ensured that you didn’t need to go to work today, and promised he would be back as soon as he could manage. You had his number and the emergency number for Dr. Law in case anything went wrong while you were home alone.

Aside from the expected call from Ichiji, the only thing you needed to do today was take it easy.

The conversation with Ichiji had started out well enough. You apologized for having to be short with him yesterday, and after realizing that your mother had made him aware of your “illness” you had told him how you had been in the hospital that day. You avoided specifics, which was easy enough. Nobles had a tendency to talk in circles by default, so answering without truly answering was second nature.

Ichiji agreed to a second date, not this coming weekend, but the one after, and it was during that agreement that he said something that had caused your blood to run cold.

“Your mother informed me that a new medication had been developed.” He repeated, before continuing on. “One with less side effects than those you currently suffer.”

Your mouth was drying up, but you did your best to keep it hidden, infinitely grateful that you were having this conversation over the phone and not face to face.

“I’m surprised to find I’m aware of this before you are.” He admits, and you snap into focus.

“She likely just found out recently herself.” You say quickly. “She probably wanted to have them in her hands before she said anything to me.”

“How kind,” he says, and you can almost swear you can hear the doubt on his face. “You have quite the doting mother.”

“Indeed.” You answer flatly. You never exactly sang your mother’s praises, being that there was nothing worth praising her about, but you did try to avoid bad-mouthing her. Words traveled faster than light among nobles and antagonizing your mother would only result in your own misery. “I expect I’ll receive a package and a letter later today if not tomorrow.”

You try to say the words as though you’re happy about it, but after yesterday’s revelations all you can really muster is anger.

“My apologies.” He says suddenly, and before you can ask what he means he continues. “I didn’t mean to step ahead of you in this news. It must be a little alarming to hear it from me versus your mother.”

“It’s… I appreciate your intent, Prince Ichiji, but it is still good news, so thank you.” You say a little stiffly.

The conversation wraps up afterward and you’re sitting in the middle of the floor just staring at the middle distance for a long time. Anger will only wear you out, but you don’t know what else to feel at this point.

Relief, perhaps, that you know the truth behind the “medicine” already, and aren’t going to have your hopes raised by some medication that’s tainted in a different way.

You aren’t sure how long you sat in the middle of the living room floor staring at the back of your eyelids, but you heard the door unlock. Sabo was calling from the foyer before you could see him.

“You awake, lil’ spark?” He questions.

“Unfortunately.” You admit a little more morosely than you intended.

“Did mother call?” He prompts, stepping into the living room and crouching in front of you.

“Ichiji.” You grumble. “But he’s apparently talking to her.”

Sabo’s eyes go wide. “Oh?”

“Yes, and mother decided to tell him all about my illness, and to reassure him that a new and improved medication is on its way to me, and the side effects should be much less, and he shouldn’t be concerned about any issues.” You explain, snapping the words off at their bones in your anger.

You sit quietly for a few minutes with Sabo. Your hands clench and unclench, you’re struggling to keep your composure, and your brother is giving you time to either let it out or tuck it away.

“That… that bitch!” You finally let your anger out. “That manipulative, useless, two-faced, utter failure of a mother! How dare she!” You cry and Sabo sits with you. “How dare she peddle poison as hope! I can’t – I can’t stop thinking about how I would have been grateful! Honestly grateful!”

Sabo hugs you and you nearly wail into his shoulder. “I would’ve thanked her! If not for yesterday, I would have thanked her for poisoning me less!”

For a few minutes you let your rage and frustration out. Sabo holds onto you, hands twitching as you’re sure he’s become as angry as you have, but he sits with you quietly. You cry until you’re hoarse, and Sabo steps away long enough to bring you some water and tissues before he resumes sitting on the floor with you.

You drink some water, and clean up your face, taking a few deep breaths before you nearly whisper the next words. “What’re we going to do?”

“Stick with our current plan.” He says, grabbing your shoulders and giving you a reassuring look.

“Revolution seems a bit extreme.” You say, though you’re not arguing against it.

“If it were just for us, then yes.” Sabo says. “But there’s far more at stake than our freedom.”

“I know.” You say with a sigh.

For years, you and your brother had spoken of revolution. At first it had been a way to simply release the pressures you were under, but as time had gone by, your ideas had become more concrete. It wasn’t just ideas shared between you and Sabo either, you knew he spoke to Luffy and Ace about it, and you were 99% certain that the firm he worked for had its hands deep into the idea.

Honestly, they likely had long before even you and Sabo had begun talking on it yourselves.

At the very least, Sabo’s plans and ideas had become far more detailed and well grounded since he began working at the firm. He kept his conversations with you focused on gaining freedom for the two of you, vs trying to take on the weight of freeing the world. Part of that was for your own sanity, you were sure, but also it was likely for your safety.

Revolution was treason, and treason was not a charge anyone was safe from, not even those who counted themselves as Celestials.

Initially you had just planned on exposing all of the dark secrets you were aware of among the Nobles and Royals, using that knowledge to fan the fires of revolution and start breaking down the misconceptions around the nobility and the government.

Now, you might have a better spark. Rather, you may be a better spark. Sabo had called you his lil’ spark for years because your words had been the first to spark change in him – turning his frustrations into something he could act on.

Right now, you didn’t have the energy or capacity to worry about the possibilities of revolution. You were already dreading the risks of detoxing from years of poison, how it would or could impact your capacity to work, and the issue of Ichiji. Holding him off until you were ready to go public with everything could become a tight timetable.

If there was a way to make him walk away without saying any more than you needed to, that would be ideal.

“Ichiji.” You say after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t think you need to worry about him right now.”

You shake your head. “With everything that’s happened, I keep forgetting that I wanted to try and talk to Sanji about him.”

Sabo tilts his head. “Why Sanji?”

You make a circular motion around your eyebrow. “His eyebrow twirled the same way. Well, no, I think it was in a different direction, but it was so similar. I was hoping, that if there was something useful to know about Ichiji, Sanji might know.”

Sabo considers it for a moment. “I’ll talk to Luffy. I know he mentioned that Sanji left his family behind some years ago, but if we’re talking royalty, then Luffy might not even know the details.”

“The Vinsmoke family is from the North Blue too, I can see Sanji coming all the way to the New World for the same reasons we did.” You admit. “But I also don’t want to risk him just for information. Ah, can you help me stand, my legs have gone to sleep.”

Sabo helped you get to your feet, letting you hold onto him for a few minutes while all the pins and needles went down your legs. He teased you for it, as siblings do, and the topic of conversation turned to lighter things between the two of you.

When Luffy returned home you talked to him about Sanji. He only knew Sanji was originally living and working on a restaurant boat out in the East Blue before he had come to the New World with Luffy and a few others. Everyone’d had their own reasons for coming to the New World, but the journey had brought all of them together.

Sabo and Ace had left before Luffy, but everyone had reunited in the New World. In that way, everyone had gathered their own odd collection of friends – the three brothers acting as a kind of hub between the groups.

“As a matter of fact,” Ace says in the middle of dinner. “For a few months I thought Sabo was dead.”

“I had thought the same of Ace.” Sabo admits.

“What happened to cause that?” You question, absently smacking Luffy’s hand away from your plate.

“Big storm.” Ace and Sabo reply at the same time.

“A big wave knocked me off the boat.” Sabo admits. “Ace couldn’t jump in to try and help me, and by the time the storm settled he was adrift on what was basically a raft.”

Ace nods. “Man, I was so lucky Thatch and the fourth were out on leave. Double lucky they decided to take the Whaler out.”

“The Fourth? A Whaler?” You question.

“The station’s home to sixteen divisions. The city’s divided into eight districts.” He explains. “We use the main station the most, but there’s satellite stations that have crews too. When everyone was there for Ducky’s birthday, that was still barely a third of the crew, but you need enough people on standby, cause you never know when a fire will happen. Thatch heads up the fourth division.”

Ace takes a few bites and then continues. “Pops – ah, the fire Captain, he has a few boats. He was kind of a wanderer when he was younger, but he lets us use the boats when we need or want to. So sometimes people will take vacations just cruising on them, or sometimes it’ll be for travel to other islands. The Whaler has a white whale vibe going on. Its proper name is Moby Dick, but, well, you know how a bunch of rough neck guys can get. Everyone just calls it the Whaler.”

“I see, thank you.” You say, before turning to face Sabo. The look on your face causes him to flinch. “You know, brother dear, you never mentioned a storm.”

Luffy and Ace freeze, looking from you to Sabo for a moment.

“I – I – I couldn’t exactly send such news back h-home.” He stammers his answer out hastily. “And then, well, I mean, afterward it was all done and passed, right? So, n-no need to dwell on such matters, yes?”

“Is Sabo… nervous?” Luffy questions Ace quietly.

Ace nods, but you don’t let your focus shift. “You could’ve told me when we started talking about me moving in. I knew your journey couldn’t have been entirely safe, but lost at sea during a storm is a bit more than I had assumed. Brother. Dear.”

“I survived!” Sabo says, nearly squeaking the words. “The event was done, there wasn’t anything else for it.”

You sigh. “You’re right. I just… I don’t want you to shelter me from bad news. Sometimes it can feel like people keep me in the dark because of my… er… condition, I suppose.”

Sabo’s nervousness melts away and he smiles. “Lil’ spark, I will not coddle you, I promise. I certainly won’t keep things from you under some false belief that you’re weak or anything like that.”

“I appreciate that.” You smile, sliding your plate toward Luffy now that you had eaten as much as you could.

A knock at the door causes Ace to get up. “I got it.” He says, motioning for you and Sabo to stay seated.

You hear the door open and a few muffled exchanges of words before Ace calls your name down the hall.

“(Y/N), there’s something you need to sign?” He says in confusion.

There’s a second of confusion on your face before you sigh and you and Sabo go to the door. You sign for the package, and thank the courier, before glowering at the box. Giving it a small shake you can hear the pills rattle inside.

“The new medicine.” You grumble. “I imagine Chopper will want to have it.”

Your phone starts to ring, and you make an even more frustrated sound. Pulling it out of your pocket you look at it and turn it toward Sabo.

“Can I ask you to answer this?” You ask, showing him the screen with Mother showing on the front. “I don’t know that I could feign joy right now.”

“My pleasure.” Sabo says, grabbing the phone with a strange glint in his eye as he presses the accept button. “Ah, mother, how are you?”

“Yes, yes, she is fine. Resting now. Work has been taking a terrible toll on her, as you predicted.” He says exaggeratedly. He rolls his eyes as he listens to her say things you can’t make out on the other end. “Oh yes, we did receive a package, just a few moments ago… Oh it is new medication? How fortuitous! Of course, of course, once she is struggling against things less it will be easier for her to work.”

Sabo gives you a smile and you can hear panic in your mother’s tone, and your brother’s words clue you into what you expected. “Oh, you hoped it would aid in her dating Prince Ichiji? Of course, I am certain that it will also have a positive effect on that relationship. Mmm, mm-hm, yes. Yes, I did have the chance to meet him, quite the fellow. I am again amazed at your skill, mother dear, finding such an exemplary royal for our dear, sweet, (Y/N).”

Sabo’s expression goes flat and he’s making a gagging motion, sticking his finger in his mouth and sticking out his tongue. You put your hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, and you can hear Ace snort as he and Luffy are trying to keep quiet.

“Yes, of course. I will most assuredly let her know you called, and I will be sure she takes this new, improved medication sent with all your love, mother dear.” Sabo promises, free hand flourishing in the air as he lets the lacey words spill out. “Indeed, indeed. All my love. Yes, okay, thank you – good bye.”

Sabo hangs up the phone and hands it back to you.

“Fuckin’ hells, I need a drink.” He says, walking off to the kitchen.

“Don’t forget to turn your contractions back on, brother dear.” You tease, following after him.

Luffy and Ace trail behind you and just as Sabo turns toward you all, the two of them start bowing toward one another.

“After you, Luffy dear.” Ace says in the snottiest accent he can muster.

“After you, brother dear.” Luffy says, eyes closed as he tips his favorite straw hat.

“Stuff it down both your throats.” Sabo says, his mock growl turning into a laugh despite his efforts as he pours himself a drink. “Ugh, I forgot how oily it feels to have to talk to her.”

“You can get away with only once or twice a year.” You say, pulling his drink toward yourself and leaving him to pour a second one. “I get to have that call almost every month.”

“Do you hafta talk like that every time?” Luffy asks as Sabo starts pouring a drink for everyone.

“Yup.” You answer before taking on an accent earlier to what Sabo had been using. “Contractions are the gateway to ineptitude; one must not fall victim to such reckless discourse.” You roll your eyes. “That was some of what was in those books we plastered against the wall at the station.”

You pause for a moment. “I almost feel bad about it.”

“About what? Soaking those awful tomes into oblivion?” Sabo questions.

“Lil’ bit.” You admit. “I mean, it’s not the book’s fault someone wasted ink on that awful dribble. If anything they’re good examples of what not to think.”

“Or do.” Sabo adds.

“Or say, really.” You agree.

[araveninthedarknight]

Yasushi X ftm trans reader smut

18+ interactions only, minors DNI

High and low Smut number 1

Adult only content ahead-minors dni, 18+

warnings and the writing under the cut, please only read if 18+

WARNINGS: Transgender male reader, smut, fluffy porn pretty much, Yasushi is a softy for M/N and is trying to be a good man, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it peeps) creampie, first time writing smut so it may suck (lol, no pun intended) Oral sex (ftm recieving),squirting,dirty talk mentions of being insecure due to being trans with an assigned male at birth boyfriend (nothing too hard though, mostly just light mentions) Slow burn smut because I am mean :P Swearing Long chapter

Yasushi X Assigned female at birth trans male

M/N=male name

H/C=Hair color

E/C=eye color

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yasushi had been dating his boyfriend M/N for a while, and knew he was transgender, He didn't mind it a bit and always made sure to take it at M/N's pace so that he never made him uncomfortable. Recently M/N decided he was ready to take things up a notch with Yasushi, and bring up the idea of having sex with him. He was nervous because sure he was on testosterone now and had had top surgery, which Yasushi had helped him through recovery during, but this was a part of him that he was insecure of, one of his biggest internal fighting points, but he knew he could trust Yasushi, so he was as ready as one could be in his position. He was taking the leap.

"Yasu, can we maybe try today?" M/N asks softly as he sits in his apartment with the mentioned blond, both male's hearts racing post makeout, ready to take the next step."I want to give it a try today, and I really trust you, so I want to finally give myself to you." Though the other male was whispering, Yasushi had heard him loud and clear, a small and gentle smile crossing his face as he listened to the words of his boyfriend.

"If this is what you want, then of course we can baby boy. And if we need to stop at literally any time, we can and we will, no problem." Yasushi says, gently helping M/N off the couch and to his room, kissing his lips gently as he does. He vowed to make it as comfortable for his partner as he could, this was a vounurable time for any couple, the first time, but especially in their situation where one was assigned male at birth and the other a female to male transgender person who has not had lower gender reassignment surgery.

Soft pink lips place themselves over M/N's, the thick plush skin warming his own mouth, Yasushi's tongue soon rubbing gently across M/N's lips, asking for enterance in the most gentle and caring way as they sit on the bed, M/N on Yasushi's lap with his calloused hands wrapped around his waist to hold him in place.

M/N tangles his fingers though suprisingly soft blonde locks, deepening the kiss and gnelty grinding himself onto the male under him. Though both still fully clothed, it caused soft whimpers to emit from both parties, the friction of dress pants and jeans had caused a delicious wave of pleasure through both males,and made both hearts race, readying for the action to come. Teeth gently gnawing at each other's lips, hands moving from hips to under the thin white t-shirt of the male on the top of Yasushi's lap, his calloused hands warm and comforting as the heat eminated from the palms and grazed over his torso.

The male who's hands had been tangled in his blond boyfriend's loucious hair moved his hands, still kissing him as he removed his flannel, Yasushi hadn't worn more than that and a pair of his dress pants that day since was the weekend, and his parnter was desperate to get the red and black fuzzy shirt off his man.

E/C eyes bore into brown coffee like pools as the kiss broke, only love and tenderness were in the eyes of both of the men. One was wondering how he got lucky to have such a caring and thoughtful partner, the other wondering how the hell he got such a handsome partner that only he could make the normally feral raccon like male soft in the blink of an eye (if you get the refferance, hello my discord fam, i love you!) Yasushi carefully takes off M/N's shirt, making sure he his still ok to continue and not overstepping boundaries, once recieving a nod, he gently lays his parnter down on the bed, kissing the scars that lingered on his chest from top surgery with delicate care, "You are so handsome baby boy. I love you so so much, all of you." His deep voice causes tingles to break out over the skin of the slightly shorter male who was laying under his caring other half, a faint heat rising to his cheeks, covered in light stubble that had only started showing a few weeks before. Before long, the clothes had all hit the floor, and Yasushi took is place between his boyfriend's legs, gently caressing them and placing feather light kisses along the soft skin. He took his time worshiping him, treating him as if he was the last man on earth, rubbing his rough thumbs over the smooth skin on M/N's thighs, making sure to make eye contact and double check that it was ok. Dim led candles lit the room, causing a soft glow to emit around the otherwise dark cave like sleeping space, but the soft light provided just enough light for the H/C on M/N's head to look halo like to Yasushi, as he gently placed a soft kiss on the skin just above his partner's now unclothed crotch. Tingles set the other ablaze, reminding him that his boyfriend didn't care if he was trans and had female equipment on his lowe half still, he loved him for him and was trusted to see the delicate side of himself. "You are stunning baby, if you need me to stop, just tap my head a few times ok?" The normally energetic and loud male had soffened his deep voice, making it sound like flowe pedals had taken it's place, showing more care to his lover.

The blond male gently sticks his tongue to his boyfriend's clit, the soft kitten licks making M/N gasp in pleasure, "Oh fuck!" he mutters, running a finger through his h/c locks to move the hair from his face, already beginning to have a layer of moisture form on the skin there. Yasushi takes this hint, adding pressure with his tongue, raking the pink apendage up and down the folds of his partner' the smell and taste seeming other worldy to him, like a dessert at a fine resturaunt in town. "Mmm baby boy, you taste so good, all sweet just for me baby boy." Golden locks braided back, Yasushi continues to ravage his partner, slowly dipping his tongue into his enterance, giving him all the time to feel loved and get used to this more intamaite setting they were engulfed in. The soft rumble of his voice sent vibrations through M/N's core, causing him to puff out a soft moan, one that suddenly turned to a gasp as he felt a slim finger break through his folds and into his warm cavern. The pleasure caused him to rut his hips into his lover's face, a look of euphoria washing over his e/c orbs. "O-Oh fuck, oh that feels good." The other chuckles against his core, sliding a second finger in and scissoring him open, making sure to be gentle with the thrusts and sucking on his clit gently, the pearl of nerves sending the other over the edge, "s-shit...d-don't wanna cum yet." M/N whines, having started to feel the ball of rubber bands form in his gut, he was no virgin by any means, and knew what it meant, but it still caused heat to form in his cheeks yet again, blood pooling to creat the heat.

"You think you are ready to take me?" Yasushi whispers, licking his slim fingers clean of the other's essance, a drunken look in his coffee eyes as he peers through long lashes at the male under him.

"Yeah, I feel ready enough, and if we need to stop, I'll tell you." He nods, just wanting to feel Yasushi in him, his ferral need to have that pleasure making his voice shake and his teeth catch his bottom lip.

Yasushi lines himself up with his partner, gently lowering his hips to his as he slides in slowly, kissing M/N gently on his lips to distract him from any pain and show him how much he loves him, though his moans rumble through his broad chest and tell his partner all he needs to know, neither is going to want to stop tonight.

"Yasu, oh my god, you feel so fucking good." The male whispers against the full lips of his partner, he can taste himself on his lips and it only makes it all the more erotic for him, knowing that the lips he kissed had tasted him and almost brought him to an earth shattering orgasm. The top male starts to gently move his hips, a hand holding him over his boyfriend while his other hand makes work of his lovers bundle of nerves, wanting to make him feel as good as possible while they make love. "I love you so much baby-fuck.. baby boy. Y-you are doing so well fer me.." Yasushi can feel M/N shudder at his voice as his cock gently caresses his walls, hitting his g-spot repeatedly in a slow but firm pattern, sending fire to both men's cores.

A head of h/c hair rolls back into his pillow, e/c eyes following suit and making their new home rolled into the back of his head, the blonde's head making it's home in his neck, sucking on the tender skin just under his lover's ear, leaving red marks that would over time turn a beautiful shade of purple, the nips and sucking while hips are hammering into each other causing both males to moan out, "F-fuck Yasu!OH my god!" M/N gasps, pleasure taking him over entirly, the sounds of skin on skin and the slurps of sex being drowned out by the cacophany of moans, "MMMM, s'good for me M/N, gonna make me cum baby boy." Yasushi moans back, eyes squeazed shut as he moves his hips faster, fingers making figure eights on his lover's clit, "Gonna let the entire world know that you're mine baby boy, gonna make it so you can't w-walk." The lover pant's his raspy voice makes M/N curl his toes as he wraps his legs around his torso, pulling the two ever closer and making them really become one. The pleasure both felt was immense and before long, whines come out of the writhing male on the mattress, he was close to his peak and feeling it climb up his chest, "G-gonnna... oh shit, gonna c-cum like hell Yasushi...G-gonna cum." He whines, bucking his hips up to meet the blond's trying to chase his high as he yanks golden tendrills, clawing the back of his lover, leaving angry red marks on honey skin and feeling tears mix with his sweat. He had never in his life felt this good, relaxed enough to get any pleasure from sex, this was a first, and Yasushi being the one to do it sent him into a frenzy, crying in pleasure. "Cum on my cock baby boy, show me what a good boy you are." The taller male whispers in his ear, pushing his love over the edge, a sea of pleasure crashing around him as M/N finally cums, his walls squeezing and milking Yasushi's dick for all it was worth. watching his partner throw his head back, hearing him scream his name, feeling his warm and wet walls constrict around his hard member made Yasushi cum too, a loud groan falling from his lips, "O-Oh fuckkkkkkkk." Ropes of hot and pearly white liquid seep into the spongy walls of M/N, only heightining the feeling of his own release, he hadn't known he had done it, but he squirted all over his lover, the intense orgasm causing his legs to shake and his core to feel like it was on fire, the passion leaving both guys winded. Hips still and soon all that is heard is panting and a small over stimulated whine falling out of the lips of a very tired h/c male as his partner's now flaccid cock leaves his cavern, their mixed realeases slowly dripping onto the bedding below. yasushi pulls his lover into his toned arms, his bare chest that was gleaming with sweat now housing the head of m/n, voice soft and hoarse from the post orgasmic bliss, "I love you more than anything babe, thank you for trusting me enough to get to make love to you. Because to me that was more than sex, that was love making....and you are the only one I will ever want again." The calloused hands rubbing his back calmed the shorter male as the words made his heart swell, he too was madly in love and wanted no one else. "Thank you for loving all of me and showing me what it's like to not be afraid anymore. I love you so much Yasushi."

And with that both males shared a sweet peck on the lips and fell asleep, their love being woven in time for good.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

so… ao3 year in review, huh! this was a good year for me for writing, mcyt content really sparked my brain and i wrote FAR more than i had in the last few years. this post is gonna be mostly mcyt fic, hence why it’s here, but there’s a bit of blaseball left too.

i found the photo of the friend that i was looking for-written for the boston flowers fic exchange commemorating the return of blaseball (heh….), fluff about the flowers being friends and sharing photographs

space’s blaseball poetry collection-exactly what it says on the tin! i joined my school’s poetry club last fall and wrote a lot of poetry about blaseball in that time. (i’ve written a bit of mcyt poetry too, maybe i’ll post that someday)

stop me if you’ve heard this all before-empires s2 cannon divergence where pix is the only survivor of the other universe blood sausage was in and he gets brought to season 2. i swear to god this will be done in the new year, i promise.

would you mind if i tried to take a pass at it?-my longest fic to date and the fic i made this account for in the first place so i could post shipping and people wouldn’t be weird. you all should thank wither husbands for my presence in your life (/j)

just put your sweet lips on my lips-really living up to my ao3 username on this one with a second fluffy wither husbands fic, this time with an established relationship!

i still taste you on my lips, lovely bitter water-i intended for this to be SLIGHTLY cannon divergent and then realized i’d made up an entire piece of empires lore in my head by accident. read this one it’s good.

but when it comes to the end, you’re just the same as them-clock duo are messy as hell and i love that for them. if you could bash someone’s head in with a clock in minecraft impulse would’ve made this fic cannon by now.

men are fools, oh, men are frail-one of my favorites this year about martyn, the end of liml, and misleading prizes. very excited to write more treebark for the title exchange.

she says i’m spread thin, but baby, i’m just restless-deceit had me by a chokehold for a month and i still really like this HOWEVER legundo follows me on tumblr and vaguely implied in his end of the year stream that he reads at least some fanfiction. terrifying.

never forget number 46-another one of my favorites this year, partially because it’s so deeply self indulgent and partially cause it’s GOOD. read my blaseball au even if you don’t know anything about blaseball come closer i promise.

how to rest-the first in the perpetuity/secret life crossover series inspired by @wooshofficial and @betweenlands ‘s ghost fics that wasn’t supposed to become a series. lmao. the third installment will be here shortly.

it’s not something that you put to bed-the second installment in this series and the last of my top 3 fics this year. something about jimmy and chrys’ personalities were so fun to write together and allowed me to play in a very interesting space with him.

so what’s in store for next year? probably a lot of stuff that i don’t know of yet! but definitely on the docket:

blaseball winter exchange fic (will be going on main ao3 and blaseball side blog if you’re interested)

whatever fic(s) i write for treebark title swap (hoping to write at least two!)

second chapter of “stop me” i SWEAR

more blaseball au! i’ve got so many ideas floating around :)

and a million other things i’ve got ideas for that may or may not see the light of day, who knows!

happy new year, everyone!

[forever-will-last]

Hii so this is not a request or anything I just am curious about how the rating system works. I tried searching for it online but it didn't help all that much

My rating system for chapters is vaguely based on the AO3 rating system but with my own sort of hard guidelines for.

T is for Teen and is the lowest I'll ever rate any fic I like. (Technically there is a G for General Audiences but I don't ever want someone younger than a teenager reading my fic so I'm never going to rate anything that.) Generally a T rating includes swearing, romance beyond holding hands but not escalating to sex or discussions about sex, maybe some mild "violence" such as yelling. Generally, when I rate something T, it means it's going to be a mild and fluffy chapter.

M is for Mature. My parameters for rating a chapter as mature include the following: non-explicit discussions of or illusions to sex (characters implying they're going to have sex later, discussing in non-explicit details sex previously had, or discussions of sexual dynamics outside of explicit scenes), depictions of violence (I don't really write gore or intense violence, but something like a mild description of Regina getting hit by the bus or a chair thrown at her would be rated M), heavy alcohol or drug use (mentions of characters going to a party and having drinks might be rated T, but a chapter where they're actively depicted heavily drinking or doing drugs of any kind is going to get an M), or intense scenes that may evoke very strong negative emotions in the reader, typically around mental health (a breakdown, discussions of past abuse, etc).

E is for Explicit. In Psych Ward, a chapter is only rated E if it is explicitly a smut chapter. This means active depictions of sex between characters. In thousand pictures or other works of mine, a chapter being noted as having an E rating may either mean smut scenes within the chapter or explicit discussions of sex within a conversation that is outside of a smut scene. So far, in a thousand pictures, this has mostly come up in relation to post-smut chapters, when Regina and Cady are discussing what they just did in a healthy, exploratory manner. In a thousand pictures, I do note any chapters that contain explicit scenes even if they aren't smut because when I started writing it, the entire fic was actually rated M and I didn't intend to write any smut scenes at all. I'd never published any smut before and was quite shy about it! My, how things have changed in such a short period of time haha

I hope this helps clear things up! Feel free to ask any follow-up questions!

[fighterguyadventurescomic]

The Adventures of FighterGuy!

Season 1, Episode 0

"Prologue"

(written transcript)

**********

**DISCLAIMER**

This series is rated R, intended for mature audiences. "The Adventures of FighterGuy" contains violence, swearing, dark psychological topics, & sexual themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

**********

This is the written transcript of the Prologue!

Since I put so much effort into the scripts of my comics, to the point they're pretty much like chapters of a novel, I've decided to post them alongside each of the visual episodes. Both will have the same level of detail, albeit some things may come across clearer through words or visuals, depending on the scene.

I would suggest reading both the written and visual versions of each episode, to get the maximum level of understanding from each. Both should be understandable enough on their own, though.

Anyways, enjoy!

Episode starts under the cut.

*********

Sitting alone, the lights of the room dimmed, a young Flamoid is sitting in a wooden seat. He drums his fingers along his knee, waiting impatiently. He looks around the dark room, his posture stiff.

His head flame crackles softly as he waits.

A light flips on, shining bright in his face.

The interviewer, recording out of view, speaks up in a chipper voice. "Okay, we're rolling! Ready to get started?"

The boy jolts, his flame flickering. Coming back from his jumbled thoughts, he side-eyes the interviewer. "What's this for, again?"

"In order to add Flamoids to our "Amicable Extraterrestrial Protection Act", we need additional information about them." He replies.

The boy cringes, looking off to the side. "…That's a mouthful."

In another room, a slightly smaller Earthoid with fluffy blonde hair sits with his arms crossed, facing the camera at an angle. He looks annoyed. "Adding Flamoids to the "protected

class"... Is that your way of making amends for the -last- time we were here?" He asks.

The interviewer pauses, unsure of how to respond. "...Um-"

In another room, a tall, lean Flamoid walks into view. He's too tall to fit in the frame.

He strolls over to his seat, casually slumping down in it with a sigh. "Alright... Let's get this over with."

In another room sits the king, his posture somewhat relaxed. His crown sits proudly atop his head, encrusted with three round, polished rubies, one under each point of the crown.

He side-eyes the interviewer off camera. "Have you started filming? ...Yes?"

He sits up straighter, posture going from relaxed to stiff and assertive. "Right, please proceed." He says, staring calmly into the camera.

"Please state your name, age, and species for the record." The interviewer asks the group.

The first Flamoid shrugs. "Okay... FighterGuy. Thirteen, Flamoid."

"Joseph Hargraves. Fourteen, Earthoid." The second says.

"Jake. Seventeen. Flamoid." The third says, looking bored.

"Huran. Thirty-five, Flamoid." Says the king.

Joe scratches at his face as the interviewer continues. "We're going to ask you a series of questions required to propose the amendment."

"Are Flamoids socially inclined?" He asks.

Joe smiles. "Yeah! Compared to humans, Flamoids are -very- socially competent."

He pauses, his expression unchanging. "...No offense."

"Do Flamoids value cooperation with other species?" The interviewer asks Huran.

Huran smiles, perking up. "Yes! We strive to support our allies and friends of our kind."

"Do Flamoids have any enemies?" Interviewer asks.

"Yes." Jake replies flatly.

The interviewer pauses, waiting for him to continue. Jake stares back at him.

"...Could you elaborate on that?" The interviewer asks patiently.

Jake has a flashback. A white canine-humanoid stands trembling, hunched over stumbling as he presses his hands to his left eye. It's bleeding profusely.

He removes his hands and looks at them, stunned.

The canine looks up, full of rage. He remains calm as he speaks in an ice-cold tone. "...You'll regret that, firespitter." He grumbles between gritted teeth.

Jake pauses, pointing upwards as if he's about to speak, then pointing to the interviewer as he replies, "No."

"Do you trust Flamoids, overall?" The interviewer asks Joe.

Joe deadpans, offended by such a question. "Of course I do."

His expression softens as he looks to the side, holding his arm, blushing slightly. He smiles bashfully, furrowing his brow. "How could I not? Living with them... It feels foreign, but also familiar."

He has a flashback. He's sitting on the roof of a castle, FighterGuy laying across his lap, sleeping. Along the horizon, the sun is setting. The sky has turned from the usual pastel blue to a rich pink, orange, and yellow.

He continues to speak, in the present. "They're as close as I'll ever get to my own kind..."

Joe's eyes glisten as he admires the view.

On his lap, FighterGuy stirs in his sleep, hissing.

Joe looks down at him with concern. He begins to shake, whimpering from whatever dream he's having. His shoulders stiffen and his hands tighten into loose fists as his distress becomes more apparent.

Joe hesitantly pets FighterGuy's head, hoping to calm him down without waking him. Joe's forearm passes through his flame as he rests his hand on his head. The flame dances around the intrusion, maintaining its shape otherwise.

FighterGuy purrs softly, quickly relaxing, the tension easing from his shoulders. He subconsciously snuggles closer towards Joe, sighing.

Joe blushes, his going wide, shining. He looks surprised and awestruck, witnessing this. A bright teal blush spreads across his cheeks.

"...but I'm okay with that." He says as the flashback ends.

"What do you mean by that?" The interviewer asks.

Joe jolts, blushing, embarrassed. "Uhm… N- next question, please!" He stammers, waving off the question.

"Do Flamoids value honesty & morality?" Interviewer asks Jake.

Jake furrows his brow, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He calmly replies with a question, his expression shifting to look more unamused. "Do humans?" he asks.

The interviewer pauses, processing his response. "...Excuse me?"

Huran's watch receives a call. He stiffens in his seat, hearing it ring. He moves the sleeve of his robes out of the way to see the screen. It reads "MAX" in large text.

Huran sighs, standing. "Apologies... My advisor is calling."

He walks out of view, answering the call. "Maxwell?? What is it? Yes, I'm still on Earth..."

Jake pats his legs as he abruptly stands. "Okay! I'm done."

He strolls out of frame, his chin held high as he puts his hands in his pockets.

The Interviewer calls after him nervously. "Wait! There's stil-"

"Nope. I'm done." Jake cuts him off.

Huran is speaking to Maxwell on his watch, facing away from the interviewer in the corner of the room. He has an audio receiver pressed to his ear, holding it down with two fingers.

He furrows his brow, looking worried. "Under siege?! By who??? ...Speak up! I can't hear you-"

A gunshot fires from the other line, startling him. "Maxwell?? Maxwell!!" He exclaims in a louder volume.

The call ends. He stands frozen in place. "Oh no..." He mutters.

FighterGuy suddenly looks dizzy, holding the side of his head. He sways from side to side as the whites of his eyes turn black, his pupils becoming small white pinpricks. His breathing sounds

labored as he begins to look panicked. The edges of his mouth have gradually stretched past their normal ending point, shifting to become a jagged line.

The interviewer, catching all this on film, watches silently, then cautiously asks, "Are... you okay, sir?"

FighterGuy blinks a few times, shaking his head. His mind is foggy as he attempts to respond, speaking slowly. "I... um... I need to-"

He cuts himself off as he goes into a coughing fit. "KHHH- KHH!!"

FighterGuy stands and holds his stomach, grimacing. He quickly covers his mouth as black acid begins to trickle out from it, dripping from his chin.

Through his coughing, in a strained, garbled voice, he finishes his sentence. "-step out for a minute!"

Back to Joe, his interview has just concluded. Joe stands and stretches his arms high above his head, locking his hands together.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Hargraves. We'll be in touch." The interviewer says.

Joe sighs, resting one hand on his hip, looking off to the side tiredly. "Sure thing." He says with a sigh.

Joe is alerted by a loud roar from the other room. He freezes, His eyes going wide.

"What the Hell was that?!?" The interviewer exclaims.

"...Pardon my language." He adds quietly, forgetting his manners.

Joe looks worried, staring at the floor as he mutters "...Oh no."

A subtle hissing can be heard from right outside their door. The door is blown open in an explosion of red and blue flames. Thick, dark smoke fills the room.

The sound of wet, rattly breathing can be heard, approaching slowly. As the smoke clears, a small hand slowly steps into the empty doorway.

FighterGuy peeks around the corner, his flame flared up, flickering nervously. His eyes are empty, staring ahead absently. He scans the room, appearing to look for something, but not finding it.

His gaze snaps to Joe, after a moment, staring at him.

The interviewer jumps from his seat. "Oh my god-!"

Joe puts his hands up, palms out towards FighterGuy. His expression is stern, and he speaks with a calm sense of authority towards him. "Woah! Hey..."

FighterGuy looks up at Joe, scanning his features. From his perspective, his vision is blurry. Everything looks darker, and the outlines of things are constantly moving, fading into and out of each other slowly. He squints at the figure speaking to him. He knows this voice. Their face is obscured, but he can almost make out who it is.

Joe doesn't move, keeping still so FighterGuy can see him. "Easy, boy..." He says in a patient tone.

FighterGuy stares blankly at Joe for a moment, processing his thoughts.

The interviewer breaks his focus. "What's going on?!" He exclaims.

FighterGuy snaps his attention to glare at the interviewer, immediately threatened by his frantic tone.

"Why is he staring at me like that??" The interviewer asks.

FighterGuy crouches, preparing to charge at the interviewer.

"Damn it- LOOK OUT!!" Joe shouts.

FighterGuy bolts into the room on all fours, roaring and knocking the camera over in his wake.

The visual cuts out, switching to display the blue rewind screen of the tape. The timeline shows it's reached the end of the recording, "STOP" in bold letters blinking in the upper left corner of the screen.

⛥FireFlower⛥

4/11/2024