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grandline-fics · 20 days

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Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,543

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. I had such a burst of energy last night and today I'm worried I'm starting to get sick which made getting this finished a bit of a struggle. Hopefully you all still like how this is going

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

——————

Your mind was a mess and you had expected to find no rest at all but the second you’d sank into the mattress and head hit the pillow you were instantly asleep, your body unable to resist the luxury and comfort that had enveloped you. Yes you were a prisoner here in every sense of the word without it being spoken but in a bed like this, things could be worse and you knew that. If anything you had accepted the prospect of some dark, dingy cell barely big enough for you to fit in and a few thin, dirty pieces of fabric for a sorry excuse of a bed and blanket. This enormous living quarters had not been expected and even as you slowly woke from the deepest and best sleep of your life it still took you a few moments to adjust to the sight of it all and remind yourself that you hadn’t been dreaming.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you let out a sigh, contemplating just staying in bed. You knew Doflamingo had said you could go and do as you pleased but did you really want to? You knew Doflamingo was a pirate, up to unknown evil of a wide range of criminality. Could you really witness it without being able to stop it? You were brought out of your thoughts when a knock sounded at your door. Slowly you looked over, expecting it to open but there was only tense silence. Whoever it was they were waiting for you to answer. “Come in.”

Timidly the door opened and a young maid entered. She was nervous, keeping her head down and hands clasped in front of her. Lowly she bowed to you and even when she rose, she kept her gaze away from your face. Not because of an order, it just seemed she was genuinely intimidated. Worried. “Sorry for disturbing your rest. Would you care for breakfast here or will you be joining the family this morning?”

You pulled a face at the prospect of dining with Doflamingo and his ‘family’ which you assumed meant the higher ranked members of his crew. Absently you recalled the woman Violet who revealed the truth of your and Doflamingo’s situation but honestly you hadn’t really paid much attention to anyone else that had been in the drawing room. The only others you had a strange recollection about were the two figures that had been at the warehouse along with Doflamingo but it was too dark and you were in too much pain to really get a proper look at them before you’d fallen unconscious. Quickly you snapped yourself out of your thoughts and offered the maid an apologetic look. “Sorry. No I won’t be joining them.” You told her.

It made you uncomfortable when she bowed again but she was gone from the room before you could tell her to stop that. You doubted she would listen anyway, if she didn’t act as she normally did she could be punished by someone. You didn’t put it passed any of the pirates in the building to lash out at the staff over the smallest of reasons. With a heavy sigh you dragged yourself out of the bed and made your way to the small table by one of the tall windows and settled down into the chair. Finally you allowed yourself to pull back the curtain and take in the view outside, breath catching at the expansive beauty of the city and spanning island beyond it. Dressrosa was indeed a stunning place, from up here in the Palace you couldn’t see much activity from the city but just like the upkeep of the castle you now found yourself in, it seemed orderly and clean. You couldn’t hear any violence or seen signs of unrest of some countries you’d seen over the years. It made your stomach twist to feel a sense of peace and calm. Could the people truly be happy with a pirate ruling over them? You supposed if the people knew it was a Warlord, protected and feared then there would never be a risk of an outside attack. You just wondered what it was Doflamingo demanded of the people to keep them safe from him and those in his command.

At the sound of the door opening you glanced in the reflection of the window to see the servant return, pushing a small trolley inside. Following behind was Doflamingo. Eyes narrowing you turned your head to scowl at him. You’d thought your decision to eat in your room also meant you wouldn’t have to see him either until you wanted to. Realistically you should have known better. Of course he’d appear when he wished and of course he’d choose first thing to start your day off on a sour note. Coldly you followed his movements as he tugged out the chair opposite you and relaxed into it, making a note to let your Marine file fall onto the polished table surface. Your eyebrows rose minutely. You weren’t surprised to see it, more that Doflamingo seemed to want you to know he had it. You offered a polite smile to the servant as she shakily offered you your cup of tea.

“So how did my dear soulmate sleep?” Doflamingo chuckled when your smile dropped and you turned a glare his way. His laughter continued when you grabbed the morning paper from the trolley and opened it with a snap, refusing to even entertain the notion of small talk with him. With a flick of his finger, your file opened and he reclined in his seat, one arm lazily hanging over the back of seat while he sipped at his coffee. “Well you look refreshed, still you’d look better if you didn’t have those drab clothes you still have on.”

“Fashion advice from you? That’s rich.” you muttered under your breath. It was more to yourself and a reflex but the smug chuckle made you roll your eyes. In the odd sense of wins and loses you had with this man, it was a point to Doflamingo. “Your doctor informed me that my Marine uniform was destroyed after they tended to my injuries and this is what I was given when I woke up.”

“Well what are you waiting for?” You frowned at Doflamingo’s words and used your finger to lower one corner of the newspaper to see the servant bow lower than she had with just you and flee the room.

“What was that about?”

“They’re getting you new clothes. Obviously.” You opened your mouth to argue then rolled your eyes, knowing it was pointless. You couldn’t live in one outfit for your time here and you had no money to buy new clothes yourself. Sitting back in your seat, you lifted the paper again to continue reading. News of the warehouse explosion was there, tucked into the corner of a page and summarised in a small handful of paragraphs. Loss of life of Marines and some pirates had been revealed but no names. Slowly you turned the page. You stilled when Doflamingo spoke up.“Your file is interesting…”

“You must be reading someone else’s.” You noted dryly, remaining casual. “Nothing spectacular in those pages.”

“And that’s exactly how you planned it to be.” You could hear the grin in Doflamingo’s voice. Yet again you lowered the paper to stare at him. You offered no verbal response to his accusation but your expression was trained into one of patient, confusion; waiting for him to elaborate in his theory. “No one rises in the ranks as smoothly and fast as your timeline just to taper off in the middle like this and remain there. Very sneaky, lying to your superiors. Did it annoy you to serve someone who by all rights should have been your subordinate?”

“Only in the cases were they were incompetent but I knew that would be a possibility. As long as the missions were successful I didn’t care.”

“Yet they took the glory. Must have stung.”

“If my vanity needed fed for something as trivial as glory or praise I would have continued to rise the ranks in the Marines, or become a pirate.” You explained with a smirk, seeing his momentarily glower at you. “Any other questions?”

———

“The weapons and ammunition are being unloaded at the docks and all the materials were delivered to Punk Hazard without issue, Doffy.” You heard a new voice coming from one of the rooms up ahead. After you’d showered and changed into one of the many outfits brought to your your on Doflamingo’s order you'd decided to explore more of the castle. If not to have something to do but to also get a better lay of the land. You stepped closer, making no effort to silence your steps. As Doflamingo had said, you weren’t deemed a threat to anything he was doing and the mention of Punk Hazard had caught your attention. You stepped up to the doorway and leant against the doorframe, eyeing the two men standing in front of Doflamingo.

Doflamingo grinned at your appearance, finding your choice in clothing so much more flattering to your figure instead of your ugly Marine uniform or the rags you’d been wearing that morning. Diamante and Señor Pink had promptly shut their mouths when you arrived. They had been brought up to speed about who you were and why you were still alive. You looked at the two innocently even giving them a taunting little wave. Diamante glanced at Doflamingo questioning silently if he should continue even with the interruption. When his young master nodded, he spoke. “The latest batch of SAD is at the factory now to continue production smoothly.”

You pushed away from the doorframe as they continued talking and ventured further into the room, making note of the large bookcases lining the wall and all of them filled with old and expensive texts in a whole range of subjects. Finally your eyes roamed appreciatively over the stocked drinks cabinet and you pulled open the door to lift out one of the bottles of whiskey. You moved out of the way when one of the glasses flew out from the shelf and you followed its movement until it landed in Doflamingo’s waiting hand. His free hand gestured silently for you to bring the bottle over. Humming to yourself you poured plentiful glass of your own and walked over to Doflamingo’s desk.

Your lips twitched in amusement to see Doflamingo still lazily hold his glass, waiting for you to pour the drink for him. You sipped your own drink, relishing the taste that only got better when you set the bottle down beside his arm. He could pour it himself, you weren’t his servant. As you glanced at a map set to the side of the desk you heard Diamante’s annoyance drip through his words. “The sooner you work out a way to undo this the sooner you can repay them for their disrespect towards you Doffy.”

“Such a fragile pride your Doffy has if not pouring a drink for him is too much to handle.” You noted sarcastically, pulling the map fully out from underneath the sheets of paper holding it down.“But I hope he finds a way to fix it soon too. Maybe your crazed scientist will work a way.”

“Who says there's a crazed scientist?” Doflamingo asked, grinning as he poured himself a drink for himself. He watched as you looked up from studying the map that had caught your attention to throw him an incredulous look.

“A guy like you definitely has a mad scientist employed somewhere.” You smirked, looking back to the map. “If you didn’t I think I’d actually respect you less if that were even possible.”

“Doffy you don't need to let them speak to you this way.” Diamante insisted, looking to his leader. He’d literally burned a town to the ground for Doflamingo because he tripped on the street in his youth. He’d killed countless people for looking at the Warlord in a way he wasn't satisfied with. To witness you be so blatantly contemptuous without punishment felt so wrong to him. “I won’t kill them but please let me teach them to hold their tongue.”

“No one harms them, Diamante.” Doflamingo stated firmly and it was enough for Diamante to shut his mouth and nod. “No-one is taking the privilege from me. No matter how much goading they do, don’t hurt them. Make sure everyone knows. You two can go now.”

“Spoilsport.” You grumbled watching the men leave without protest. Here you thought you’d be able to get to the inner circle to be killed but Doflamingo seemed to know your game already. Clicking your tongue in annoyance you swirled your drink before a thought came to you. “What about poison?”

“What about it?”

“If I poured poison into a bottle and you served it between two glasses and we both drank, who would die?” You asked curiously, trying to wrap your head around the logistics of this whole soulmate nonsense. “If we both had a hand in it would we both be spared or both killed?”

Doflamingo stared at you with a broadening smile, deep laughter building in his chest. He’d really underestimated your mind it seemed. So far you’d seemed so calm and collected, accepting your place here until he found a way to kill you. Apart from the disrespect you threw his way and constant defiance to recognise his authority and superiority, he’d yet to see you snap. To see you break in true anger, fear, or sadness was something he wanted to witness and at this point he didn’t care which of the emotions it was.

“Sadly I think it would cancel out. I had a similar thought and poisoned your tea this morning and you didn’t react even though the maid poured it.” He explained and as disappointed as he felt that it didn’t work, seeing your own grumpy disappointment shape your face brought him some enjoyment. As he took another slow sip of his drink he spotted how your attention was taken once again by the map in your hand. “What’s got you so invested in that island?”

“I was stationed there for a couple months on a mission at the beginning of the year.” You explained with a shrug setting it aside. Even thinking about your missions felt like a different life. It hurt to know you’d never be a Marine again and help people. “You eyeing it up for an expansion of your mighty empire?”

“Not exactly.” He chuckled. There wasn’t anything you could say or do to stop him or his work so he could say what he liked. “I’m supplying weapons and foot soldiers to a local pirate group for them to take over. In return I get a profit of their enterprise and a share of the island’s natural resources.” At his explanation Doflamingo watched you process his words as you continued to drink, he noted something indecipherable briefly flicker in your eyes but beyond that you kept perfect control of your expression. Now he was even more determined to see what made you tick.

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cozage · 1 year

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Hi Coza. I sent a request in for a part 2 for a lifetime promise, but after reading what you said about writing second parts, I decided to change my request. Instead of writing a part 2 for a lifetime promise, could you do a Ace, Sabo x female reader headcanon where the reader is a water devil fruit user. Like how would a water user and fire user mix as a couple? Thank you. You work is amazing and always love to see what you do! 😊

This was really cute to write about! Thanks for the request!

Characters: female reader X Sabo, Ace Word Count: 600 CW: none :)

Ace

You are constantly putting out his fires, literally and figuratively. Ace loves to make a big show of his powers, but he isn’t always aware of his surroundings.

The ship is of course always the biggest concern. But he’s also been known to accidentally burn down buildings and allegedly, a forest. His destruction rate has been 0 since you came around. You’re always right behind him, watching for stray fires he may not have noticed. It happens more frequently than you expected.

Whenever he says something ridiculous, you always spray him with a little bit of water and tell him “you need to cool off,” or “you’re getting too hot there.”

Water beats fire, of course, and you never let him forget it. He kind of likes that you keep him grounded.

He feels a little bit more like a person and less like an element when he’s holding your hand. You have to admit you feel the same. You balance each other.

People on the crew tease him relentlessly about how much he shows his love for you. In response, he’ll throw an arm around you and always say “She’s my weakness, what can I say?” You try not to let him see how much that silly statement makes you want to MELT into a puddle (sometimes literally you begin to melt. You can’t help it.)

After particularly spicy makeout sessions or…other things, the room is FILLED with steam. It’s basically a freaking sauna in there. Sometimes you can hardly see anything besides each other. And when you finally have to open the door and the steam spills out into the hallway, everyone on the floor knows what you guys were up to. No way to be sneaky about that, unfortunately.

Sabo

Whenever Sabo comes up with some insanely exuberant plan, you always flick water in his face. “Don’t get cocky,” you warn. You had done it when he demanded to go to Dressrosa, but he had gone anyway.

You’re delighted to discover your water flick still works on him (and is perhaps more effective) after he comes back from Dressrosa with a fire power.

You find that since Dressrosa, Sabo has been kissing you a lot more frequently. Even his quick “see you at home” kisses turn into three or four. When you finally ask him about it, he just shrugs and says “I dunno how to describe it. It’s just so refreshing. You’re so refreshing.”

When he gets particularly frustrated in a meeting, he’ll look at you and say “cool me down, babe.” It makes everyone laugh as you pat his face with water, but you know he actually needs you to do it to stay calm.

Sabo has always been a confident person who is independent and likes to take charge. After he comes back from Dressrosa, he’s still all of those things, but he likes being near you while he does them. You aren’t sure if it’s because of his fruit or if it’s because of whatever happened in Dressrosa, but you like him leaning on you a bit more.

As he works to perfect his moves, he likes having you around. It takes him a while to get the right power level for the moves he has ideas for and he doesn’t want anything to burn down. Some days he even requests a little water barrier (think like The Birdcage, but with water and not malicious).

Now that Sabo has fire powers, sensations are definitely more heightened for both of you. Even when you all touch each other, the feeling is different compared to when he didn’t have a devil fruit. It definitely adds a new exciting and fun aspect to your relationship, one that both of you are extra eager to explore further.

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darlingmbappe · 2 years

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The Loneliest [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: The transition period after calling off your engagement has broken both you and Kylian. He needs to have you back, but you can’t handle having your heart broken again.

Warnings: pure angst, heartbroken reader, heartbroken Kylian, cussing, lots of crying. I switched perspectives between the reader and Kylian. — English is not my first language —

Kylian had racked up quite a large amount late fees the following month after your breakup. He never used to have issues going to sleep at night or waking up to go to training before this, but he just let himself scroll through his camera roll for hours on end.

He would emerge himself in that reality, smiling, giggling whenever your digital image did something goofy. He remembered which outfits he helped you pick out, fixating his thoughts on the ‘K’ necklace that he gave you shining around your neck in every frame. Then, due to the fault of a notification or a car alarm going off, he would snap back into the reality of his new life.

These are just memories now. He wouldn’t be able to take your picture again, hear your grainy morning voice, make your coffee so perfectly that you’d hum in gratitude.

Achraf knew about the breakup, but Kylian asked him to keep it hush since he didn’t feel like talking about it most of the time. Some nights, though, he finds himself on the phone with his mother without thinking about the fact that it’s past 2 o’clock in the morning. She (of course) picks up every time, being there for her little boy with a broken heart, her own heart breaking with the thought of you not coming around anymore.

Today, he made it to training just on time, barely smiling at the PSG camera crew that follows them around. Usually if somethings bothering him, football is his medicine. He goes out, distracts himself by making goals and perfect tackles, but it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized he needed you there to bring it all together. He hated how codependent he had become, sometimes subconsciously wishing he’d never met you at all. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped out piece by piece.

“Okay, seriously?” Glatier grunted, blowing the whistle after Kylian had missed yet another easy goal. “Kylian!” He called over. Kylian cussed under his breath and jogged over to the frustrated coach, his teammates just as frustrated with him for his performance recently. “What the hell is going on with you? Where’s your head at?!”

Kylian looked at his feet, hands resting on his hips. “Sorry, coach.”

“No, not ‘sorry’, Kylian. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. I need you to explain yourself before we start benching you.”

Kylian bit his cheek, still focused on the pitch under his feet, begging his body to suck the lingering tears back in. He looked up at his awaiting coach, nodding. “There’s no excuse, coach. I’m right here, I’ll do better.”

Glatier looks at him apprehensively, expecting to hear how the pass wasn’t placed right or some other bullshit that Kylian used to blame his shortcomings on, but notes that something is definitely off with the star player. “Alright, then.” He says, keeping eye contact, blowing the whistle twice, sending everyone to do a different drill.

Kylian sniffles as he runs back toward his team, Hakimi pats him on the back upon seeing his glossy eyes.

You had been a mess yourself, occupying yourself with your own job. Coworkers started calling you a hard ass once you decided to take charge of the group meetings, having to have control of something ever since your love life vanished. They were also oblivious to the fact of you and Kylians breakup, feeling as if the news was better off left to his PR team.

You’d settled nicely into the hotel life, enjoying complimentary breakfasts and free valet parking, but finally found a move-in ready apartment close to the office. It’d been a nightmare having your entire life packed into your car, taking up every ounce of room you had in there. There were times you convinced yourself that you were fine, but realized it was just a lie every night when you popped a sleeping pill and craved looking into Kylians eyes. You resorted back to his Instagram so often, clicking the same post every time.

The night you left, Kylian posted something for your birthday. At first, you ignored the notification, deleting the app altogether. That lasted about an hour. You redownloaded it once your curiosity took control of your body, having to know what the hell your newly-ex fiancé tagged you in. You assumed at some point he’d take it down, but it’s been thirty four days and it’s still the last thing on his feed.

You laid in the neatly made hotel bed, your fingers doing their own thing, rereading his caption until you heard your heart crack — like it did every time you found yourself here.

@k.mbappe: To the love of my life; you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I got. Getting to know you and getting to love you was the biggest privilege of my whole life. I hope this year gives you everything you need. I will love you always. — Ky.

You think back to the night that photo was taken a lot. It was at Neymar’s New Years Eve party, a few months before he proposed. Kylians hand was permanently attached to your waist. He looked at you every time something funny was said, wanting to laugh with you. He bragged about your accomplishments to everyone there — as if anyone in the room wasn’t more impressive than you, seeing models and athletes around every corner. At some point, you’d lost him and the clock was ticking down, five minutes until midnight. As you turned down a hallway, you heard his voice coming from one of the rooms.

“She’s the one.” Kylian stated, a giggle following right after. You never meant to eavesdrop on him but now you had to — back pressed against the wall as you tipped your ear closer to the open door.

“Man, she’s awesome.” Neymar’s voice responded.

“I know. I can’t ever stop smiling.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s creepy.” They both laugh, you bit your lip to keep yourself from squealing. Neymar continues. “You deserve someone great like her.”

Kylian pauses, you wait for him to say something. “What if I fuck it up?”

You feel your heart tug at his insecurity, but stop yourself from running in there and kissing him until the silly thought leaves his head. “You won’t. I can tell that she loves you a lot. Just, show her how you feel about her every day and you can’t fuck it up.”

The lull in the conversation gives you time to skip into the room. They both look at you and smile, Kylians eyes shining with love as you make your way to sit on his lap by the window.

“There you are.” You kiss his crinkled cheek. “Been looking for you. It’s almost midnight.”

He hums and pulls you closer to him.

“Aww!” Neymar teases in an exaggerated tone, standing from his place and whips out his phone, snapping a candid picture of the two of you. “What a cute couple.”

You quickly closed the app, throwing your phone far away from you on the bed.

“Fuck that.” You cried, stuffing your face in the mattress to collect your tears. You were so angry at him, but you wanted to talk to him. Slap him. Kiss him. Make him regret everything.

Your feelings have never been so crossed in your life. Of course you knew ending your relationship would be hard, but not debilitating. You didn’t expect to have to find new ways to not think about Kylian. How are you going to do this forever? Will this crippling coldness ever leave you alone? The signs all point to Kylian, but you don’t even know if he’ll be up to talking.

Blocking his number was an easy decision. While you were confident that you made the right move at the time, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. You reached back and grabbed your phone, settling down and wiping any remaining tears from your face.

The amount of times you’ve unblocked Kylian probably has broken some sort of record. You’ve been to really low places in the past few weeks, but the fake it ‘till you make it mantra somehow found it’s way into your system, hearing it buzzing in your ears like an annoying fruit fly.

Clicking the unblock button was simple. Trying to find something to say was beyond difficult.

You typed and backspaced and typed and backspaced until you were ripping your hair out. It was either too weird or too forward, but all of it was too scary.

Almost half an hour had passed, still trying to manage some sort of communication with him. Everything felt wrong, maybe today wasn’t the day. Just as you were about to reblock him, your phone buzzed.

Kylian: hello?

Shit. Of course he decided to text you right when you unblock him.

While you were freaking out about this turn of events, Kylian was holding his breath. When he saw the three dots appearing and disappearing on his phone screen over and over again, he felt like he struck gold. He just needed some way back into your life. And although small, this was an opportunity he couldn’t ditch out on.

You stared at the message, trying to take deep breaths. You should be chill. You’d texted Kylian a gazillion times in your life, but considering the circumstances, panic seemed fitting.

“Okay, (Y/N). Pull it together.” You mumbled to yourself, clearing your throat.

(Y/N): hi

You sent the message quick with no time to think twice. You facepalmed, now overthinking those two little letters. You waited impatiently for his reply. He was taking too long for your liking, but the time displayed at the top of your screen hadn’t moved. Not even a minute passed before he said something back.

Kylian: so you decided to unblock me?

Kylian: how are you?

He didn’t give you a chance to really respond to his first question, so it was easy to ignore it. But the second question had much more weight behind it.

How are you? Really?

You were tempted to type back ‘like my soul was sucked out and repeatedly backed over by a semi truck full of loaded diapers’, but that seemed like a bit much.

(Y/N): I’ve definitely been better.

You waited again, wondering if you should ask him how he’s doing, too. You saw the typing bubbles, but they disappeared. Once, twice, three times until he finally messaged back.

Kylian: did you want to talk?

You sighed, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. Fuck. Why did he have to ask that? Of course you wanted to talk — but this seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope. Going back to him was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to take him back and hug him and kiss his stupidly plump lips until you couldn’t anymore.

At the same time, you’re so vulnerable right now. You knew that taking him back this quickly would definitely cause an issue; whether it just be second guessing yourself or realizing you were wrong, and leaving him twice was something your heart absolutely could not handle.

Kylian: im sorry if that was too forward

You didn’t realize how long you were lost in thought for. You looked down at the message taunting you in your lap, sighing.

You: no, it’s fine.

You: when are you free?

You didn’t know it, but Kylian, Hakimi, and Ramos all jumped up and cheered when you sent that message. They shook his shoulders around in excitement, all too invested in the young couples relationship.

“Vamos!” Screamed Ramos, hugging the group.

“Okay, okay, shut up!” Kylians smile wrinkled his eyes shut for the first time in forever, sitting back down on the training bench.

Ramos happened to walked by when Kylian was crying to Hakimi, which Kylian was super embarrassed about, but Ramos was a genuinely good friend of the two of you, so now he felt personally affected by this breakup.

“Come on, quickly. What do I say?”

“That you are free tonight. Dios mío.” Ramos tusked like it was the most obvious thing in the world… and it was.

Kylian: tonight after training?

Kylian: I can pick you up, we can go get some dinner?

(Y/N): how about I just meet you at the training center?

There was no way you’d allow for this to be a date. If you let him wine and dine you, your heart would melt into a puddle that spelled out his name.

Kylian: perfect, cant wait

Kylian: I’ll see you later

You smiled down at your phone, putting a thumbs up to his last message and shut it off. Allowing your smile to finally spread across you face, you breathed out a giant huff that weighed down your lungs.

The happiness passed quickly, your mind remembering the way he was before. Aloof, distracted, snappy… You we’re still holding onto the old Kylian. The one that took you on spontaneous picnics, the one who would pull over on the side of the highway on his way home and hand-pick you a bouquet because the wildflowers looked pretty, the one that never forgot to kiss you goodnight, even if he was already asleep when you crawled in next to him.

The expectations for tonight were all over the place. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how it would end. Would you lower you walls for him again? Are you even capable of that? He hurt you down to your core, his actions broke you down into an insecure shell of yourself.

The end of the day came, and by now, the word had spread to the rest of the team about the breakup. Glatier patted Kylian on the back in sympathy, giving him a wise coach speach about life and love — one that didn’t really help Kylian. It was actually rather confusing. Nonetheless, he thanked his elder, mentally noting it’s best if he just sticks to coaching football.

Neymar was shaken by the news, having taken a liking to you early on in your relationship with Kylian. When he asked Kylian what was bothering him so much lately, he breathed out a heavy, “nooo!”. Comforting his teammate felt nostalgic for them both because their own relationship went through a sort of breakup at one point.

Kylian felt the end of the day inching closer and closer. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw you. It was important for him that he doesn’t say anything to scare you away. He wants you to see that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to prove it to you. He wants to make you laugh, make you remember that he is capable of making you happy again.

Kylian smelled better right now than he ever did after practice. He scrubbed like a maniac, fixing his hair with precision, shaving and applying after shave. He finished off with some cologne that Verratti suggested, a cool jacket that Kimpembe let him borrow. He drew the line when Sergio came for his eyebrows with tweezers, doing a nervous final check in the full length mirror. Breathing deep, he opens up his messages.

Kylian: im almost done :)

Kylian: let me know when ur here

He watched the screen, waiting for you to respond with anything. The three dots popped up again, halting his breathing when your message appeared.

(Y/N): I’m here. Come meet me by the maintenance entrance.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing out of the locker room with anticipation taking over his veins, his knuckles turning white against the material of his duffle bag. He felt like he was going to throw up from nerves, but the good kind of nerves — the kind he has before an important match.

Where you were meeting him was his little hidden area. The maintenance crew got an upgraded break room with a patio, so no one ever came out this way, leaving the picnic tables open for when he needed a sneaky break. He brought you out here multiple times when you came and visited, always insisting on making out before he would go back inside.

This door always got stuck. He remembers having to shoulder it every time. He prepared himself, stepping back before lunging his body forward. Next thing he knows, he’s landed on the cold cement, letting out a loud “oof” when he went down.

“Oh my god!” He heard your sweet voice from a distance, looking up and seeing you, sideways from his position. The wind was already knocked out of him, but wow, watching you running in his direction took his breath way. “Are you okay?”

He got himself up when you approached him, he brushed himself off cooly. “When the hell did they oil that door?” Kylian points.

You stare at him before you let a small laugh bubble out, immediately getting Kylian to join in. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed by his less than cool entrance, but mentally checks off the make her laugh box in his head.

Damn, he looks good, you thought to yourself. You kept it at bay, but you noticed how he cleaned up extra nice, tugging at your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you also spent way too long on your appearance.

“Hello,” he smiles, raking his eyes adoringly over your frame. He didn’t even notice himself inching closer to you, but you did. It made you hot under the collar just being around him again. You’d been away from him longer than a month before, but this was hard.

You gulp. “Hi.”

He set his duffle bag down on the picnic table. You had his full attention, every word he’s wanted to say to you just on the tip of his tongue. You made your way over to the bench and slowly sat down, him following suit, sitting a little closer than you wanted him to.

You scooted away slightly. “Let’s talk.” You say. He nods, turning his body toward you. “I have to be at work soon so I can’t stay long.”

His leg bounces. “Can I start?”

“Okay.”

His gaze locked on your delicate hands, wanting nothing more then to hold them tightly. He breathed deep, his nerves felt electric in his veins. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I fucked up and realized it too late. I should have noticed, but I didn’t. And I’m so sorry for that. For everything.” His words were slow and gentle, his eyes not knowing where to look as they bounced from your eyes to you hands to your lips, then back to your eyes again. “I’m miserable without you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “I miss you too, Kylian. Believe me, this hasn’t been easy for me, either. But, I’m not here to get back together with you. I can’t let myself do that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You really wished you planned this talk out better because right now, you were letting your emotions run on autopilot. Yet, you kept your logical side steady on the breaks in case your heart decided it needed his comfort more than it needed peace. “Because, Kylian. I just can’t.”

You felt the anger inside of you rising to the surface. You stood up and began pacing. Kylian stood too, but his feet were frozen in place.

“You know, I didn’t even know you still loved me until I was leaving?” You stated, facing his ashamed demeanor. He opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “You made me feel like shit. For months. You drove this… this weird insecurity in me that was never there before. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d just spin it on me. Do you know how shitty that feels?”

His head hung low, guilt overriding his every sense. For whatever reason, he had high expectations for how this was going to go, and it’s already not at all how he thought. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You never deserved that.”

“You’re fucking right, I didnt.” You snapped, brows knit tightly in anger. “Why did you change? What happened? What did I do to you that made you so angry at me?”

Kylian opened and closed his mouth, stuttering. “I…” Seeing the tears gloss your eyes brought his own forward, but he bit them back. “… I don’t know. Nothing, you did nothing wrong.”

You stared at him, sighing. You ran a hand over your cheeks once you felt some stray tears run down your face. Nodding, you sat back down, Kylian cautiously joined you further down the bench. His elbows were on his knees, eyes facing the pavement. Silence used to be comfortable with Kylian. You two could sit together for hours and not say a word, and it would feel so natural. Now, the air was thick with tension, every depressing emotion running full speed inside your loud mind.

“You remember that benefit dinner we went to in November? The one held by that super rich Fortune 500 guy?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. “That week was when I started doubting if we were even good together anymore. You hadn’t payed attention to me, touched me, listened to me in weeks. I thought it was me. That I was somehow fucking up everything we had.” Kylian listened through the sound of his pounding heart, not daring to look up. He could hear in your voice how deeply upset you were, he couldn’t take the look on your face. “I tried talking to you about it that morning. I was going to ask if you wanted to take a break… have some time to ourselves. Instead, you just turned it into a fight about me leaving the dishwasher open, or some shit like that. I ended up apologizing to you.” You chuckled, but it really wasn’t funny.

Kylian remembered, having been stressed about his difficult new physical therapy sessions. He took out his frustrations on you unfairly, but he didn’t realize that he was doing that until it was too late.

You continued. “I dressed up so nice for you that night. I wore that gorgeous blue dress you got for me, heels that absolutely killed my feet, I got my hair and makeup done by real professionals… I thought maybe I could at least get you to want me again. But, all night long, you pretty much ignored me. You only smiled at me when other people were around and you didn’t want to look like a dick. I loved it, though. It felt like the old days, when you would actually smile when I was around.”

His lip quivered, still not being able to lift his head toward you. You wanted to keep going, but knew what you were going to say next was going to hurt him and it was never about getting even. You didn’t want to put him through what he made you feel. Reluctantly, you knew you had to tell him. You had to do it for you.

“That whole night, you kind of ignored me. I had the thought that you wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared… so I did. I was on the balcony for like, an hour. All by myself. Watching you from the outside to see if you started looking for me, and you never did.” You paused to take a breath, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but what do I have to lose, right?” He looked up, eyes red. You looked away. “It wasn’t on purpose, but… that night, Erling Haaland and I had a great time.” You locked eyes with him when he shifted, his whole demeanor changing from apologetic to full protection mode.

“What? What do you mean?” He attempted to keep his voice clear of obvious anger, but you knew him too well.

“No, no. Not like that.” You clarified. “He came out there for a breather and saw me. I don’t think he knew who I was or that we were together—”

“Bullshit.” He mumbled, but you ignored him.

“We just laughed and talked about the last season. Nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You weren’t going to mention how he asked for your number at the end of the night because that would send him into a spiral. “Look, I’m not telling you this to be cruel, or anything, but it’s just an example of how alone I felt… that I would spend an entire night talking with Erling Haaland of all people. He payed more attention to me that night than you did for months. It made me remember how much fun we used to have. It made me realize that you might not be that person for me anymore.” Your voice wobbled and Kylian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears back in with a sharp and deep breath.

He couldn’t believe you never told him about this, but reminded himself that he wouldn’t let you. He was too cold, too defensive.

“I promise you, (Y/N) — even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you back.” He swore through his wavering voice, still attempting to hold back his cries. You saw his twitching face, surfacing your own emotions.

You couldnt hold it back anymore, placing your face in your palms, letting the sobs go freely. “You’re a stupid fucking dickhead, Mbappé.” It was vulgar, but it’s just what shot out of your mouth.

Kylian knew he deserved that and more, just nodding at the new nickname, beginning to let himself cry as well. “I’m gonna change. If you let me show you, I’ll never stop proving to you how much I love you.” He grabbed your hand, tightly grasping it and kissing your knuckles.

“I think…” you sniffle, watching Kylian as he squeezed your hand in his, resting it on his face. “I think I need more time, Kylian.”

Immediately he nods, scooting closer to you. “We have time, baby. I’ll wait for you to be ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You and Kylian continue to cry, together. This kind of vulnerability is what you’ve been craving from him, this is the kind you had before.

“Kylian, I can’t handle having my heart broken again.” You choke. He holds you close now, forehead resting on the side of your head.

“I won’t ever be that person again.” He promised, sniffling. “I’ve never hurt this badly before. I’m not putting either of us through this torture again.”

You nod, wiping your tears and trying to calm down a little before standing up, leaving Kylian sitting alone on the bench.

“If I’m even going to entertain the idea of getting back together… we’re starting over completely. Right from the start.” You point, feeling yourself stop crying and using your sleeve to get rid of any proof that you were an absolute trainwreck.

He nods, standing up. “Okay. I can do that.” It looks like a burst of good energy just shot it’s way into his body, but the nervous demeanor stood above it, cautiously watching your every move.

“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I need to know it’s the right decision. It’s too hard.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything.” You can tell Kylian is holding back from hugging you by the way his feet tap toward you, his body swaying in your direction.

You look him over, breathing in the crisp air. “Okay.” You check your watch, noticing you’ll be late if you don’t leave in the next five minutes. “I have to go now.” You say, nodding an awkward goodbye to Kylian; hugging felt like it would be weird… a handshake even weirder.

“Wait.” He stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and quickly pulling it back. “Am I allowed to ask you on a date now?”

You chuckle, a real one this time. “Um. Let’s wait a couple of weeks. I need some more time to process all of this. Besides, I’m moving on Friday so I’ll be pretty busy unpacking, so…”

He’s taken aback, quirking an eyebrow and trying to not looked too freaked out. “Wait… moving? Where?”

“Some place I found. It’s fine… close to the office.” You honestly didn’t love it, but it was cute. It had character. “The hotel life was getting too expensive.”

“Let me pay for that–”

“No. Non-couples don’t do that.” You say, checking the time again, walking backwards toward you car. “Look, I really have to go. Wait for me to text you, alright?”

He nods, watching your figure disappear in the dark parking lot. “I will.”

He didn’t take his eyes off your car until it was out of his sight, turning back the way he came in.

The time has come for him to cheer, celebrate, tell all of his friends… but he won’t. He might’ve managed his way back into your life, but he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. Everyone knows how embarrassing early celebrations are, especially when they they miss the goal in the end. He’s not making that mistake. He’s just grateful for the new opportunity to prove to you that it’ll be worth it… that he’s worth it. You’ll be treated better than ever… as soon as you’re comfortable with him again.

So, no celebration for Kylian Mbappé… not counting the giddy grin and small fist pump he did when he was alone in his car.

He couldn’t stop himself. He really couldn’t.

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kkachi-rkcl · 3 months

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Fic WIP

Fandom: One Piece

Ship: Law/Zoro

Digging back through old WIPs and I totally forgot I wrote this scene lol~ Zoro being all flustered is perhaps not the most in character but I don’t care, it’s adorable.

******

Zoro watched their new ally’s back as they boarded the Thousand Sunny after the departure of the Marines. Despite the bulk of the coat, Zoro could tell that Law’s every movement had a deliberateness to it, almost graceful. It reminded Zoro of a cat.

“Torao!” Luffy called as he bounded onto the ship behind them. “We need to give you a tour!”

Law barely had time to turn around before Luffy had grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him away, chattering about his favorite parts of the ship (“This is Sunny’s head! It’s a great napping spot, even though I fall off occasionally!”). Zoro chuckled and set about helping the others to get the ship underway before finally settling down for a nap under his favorite tree.

He was woken up some time later by the creaking sounds of the deck swing beside him. He blinked his one eye open and saw Law rocking back and forth on one heel, looking up at the tree contemplatively. He plucked off a low-hanging leaf, twirling it between his fingers. Zoro remained motionless and watched as the swing slowly came to a halt, with Law still staring at the leaf in his hand.

“It must’ve been a while since you’d seen anything green,” Zoro finally said.

Law looked up, not expecting Zoro to be awake “Yes, I was just thinking my crew would be jealous,” he said, looking out over the lawn. “There’s no place for greenery on a submarine.”

Law’s fingers began toying with the leaf again, drawing Zoro’s eye to the motion. His fingers were long and slender, but certainly not fragile; well suited to the precise motions required for surgery. Fingers that could take him apart as easily as they could put him back together.

A sudden gust blew across the ship, knocking off Law’s hat and sending it tumbling across the lawn. Law started to activate a ROOM but Zoro lunged and caught it before he could finish. “Here,” he said, holding the hat out to Law.

As Law looked at him, the dappled sunlight slipped through the tree’s rustling branches and reflected off his eyes, lighting them up like pools of molten gold. Zoro’s heart skipped a beat in his chest as he realized that beneath that stupid hat, Trafalgar Law might have most handsome face that he has ever seen.

“Thanks,” Law said, running his hands through his shaggy hair before slapping the hat back on. His attempts at taming his windswept hair didn’t do much, and a few stray pieces still stuck out the sides at odd angles.

The thought of Law tugging on Zoro’s own short cropped hair flashed intrusively at the back of his mind, and Zoro’s mouth went dry. “I should check on Luffy,” he said, abruptly turning towards the stairs. He focuses on the clack of his scabbards as he walks away, the rustle of his clothes, the sounds of his boots on the deck. He times his breath with his steps— in two three, out two three four—

“I’ll go too,” Law said, standing up and propping his enormous sword on his shoulder.

Zoro did his best to seem nonchalant and continued to the foredeck (in two three, out two three four), where Usopp was regaling Kin’emon and Momonosuke with some tall tale or another and Luffy was perched in his usual spot on top of Sunny’s mane. Zoro smiled when he heard Luffy cry out in excitement as the ship crested a wave and picked up speed as they descended into the trough.

“It’s a sea-hill. You see them all the time,” came Law’s voice behind him, and Zoro’s stomach did a flip that had nothing to do with the speed of their descent. He looked over the railing at the churning waters and took deep breaths of the salty air. In two three, out two three four. Breathe, settle down. So what if he’s got a gorgeous face, Zoro tells himself, it’s not a big deal.

#fic wip #lawzo #zolaw #one piece fanfiction

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lizaluvsthis · 6 months

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I will die and cry harder

PUZZLEVISION SERIES - THE MARIO MYSTERIES (BLUES CLUES)

[SPOILER!]

By 5 cards it was a cover... and I think my theory was correct when I mentioned the 5 of the crew.

So now we have finally got an easter egg and also the rating poppin up-

Since we're not sure the 5 cards (we'll call it that-) is gonna be all SMG4 and Mario focused videos- does that mean it will be up to the other three? Or are we gonna have more childhood show just like blues clues but the others?

Puzzlevision controls them all- (this is kind of an OP or- Over Powered antagonist) but I think PV came in just to steal the spotlight and make the crews life hell.

Will they find a way? An escape to break reality? Will they succeed to save their friends? How long of the episodes will it take for the two to realize they've been trapped in this simulation set up by PV?

Will it take more than just one hint (hint- the trios are stuck) In another world where PV kept them on prison? Four and Mario need to wake up soon. But how would that be possible?

If we finished it to 1-5 episodes of the cards- we have to finalize the rating between the 1 star and 5 star rating...

There is just- no way- there will be a character who dies during the process... right...? (Cough- dont let that happen-)

What would happen if we gave a 1 star rating...? Will pv hurt them? We're not sure because then again- the casts are important to keep this show running.

And if 5 stars were full- I think there will be more entertaining shows for fun... on loop.

Either 5 cards with two main focused (with pv moderating them) characters who go on their journey.

Or another character focused...?

Will there be a flashback about how the two got controlled by the adware himself? Because everyone... atleast to meggy- sounded weird... (not saying they were all in different voice actors) the pitch and tone- sounded so- i dunno a bit robotic?

The three characters are screaming for help eughhhhhhhhh

Where are the other crew...?

I dont know what to expect but yeaaa

#smg4 #lizafixates #tv adware #tv adware theory #smg4 tv adware #puzzle vision #smg4 puzzlevision #the tv arc

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alex51324 · 11 months

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That Tweet, take 2

OK, so my first reaction to That Tweet, by Djenks, was as follows:

My money is on DJenks realizing that he shat the bed & now furiously trying to write himself out of the corner he's in. (My second guess is that he basically already knows there won't be a Season 3, but there's some network or business-related reason for not announcing it yet.)

But now that I've had a bit more time to think about it, I am kind of seeing a scenario where he could've intended it to be a fuckery all along.

Step one is that we imagine him being a bit disappointed by how Lucius's death fooled absolutely no-one. It's likely that he was planning for the reveal that he was alive to be a much bigger moment than it actually was; maybe he even has some Big Reveal ideas that he had to put on ice once it became clear that there was very little actual suspense surrounding Lucius's fate. This is, obviously, since I don't know him personally, a big hairy guess, but it seems like a very plausible reaction for someone to have, when they put a lot of effort into planning a surprise and it falls flat because everyone guessed it.

Step two is him deciding to sell Izzy's "death" a little harder, with the emotional death scene and the funeral (where we do not actually see the body, and a mourner, Wee John, is missing) and all. It's laying it on a little thick, in my opinion, but again, we did all confidently (and correctly) assume that Lucius was alive based on the evidence that "this show wouldn't do that" and "The Stede-Ed reunion won't work if he's really dead," so you can see how a showrunner could, hypothetically, get to--

Step three, is Djenks opening up his socials at the crack of dawn on Thursday morning, expecting to see reams of speculation and analysis about how Izzy could have survived, and being genuinely shocked to instead find seas of angry and devastated fans suggesting that he should perhaps give up television in favor of a career in going and fucking himself.

Step four, realizing that he drastically overshot the mark re: creating genuine suspense over character death, he tweets out a big obvious hint.

I don't love this interpretation--for one thing, there is nothing in the episode we saw that would provide a plausible in-universe reason for faking Izzy's death. It would be pretty easy to create one--have Prince Ricky No-Nose vow personal vengeance against Izzy Hands in specific for calling him a syphilitic cunt/his role in foiling the "end of piracy" scheme--but we did not see anything like that. To make the funeral scene work as a fuckery, it would be necessary to insert a flashback between the "death" and the funeral in which A) this happens, and B) the other characters find out about it. That's a cheap trick that I personally hate--the old, "Haha, I made you feel a thing by deliberately withholding context"--but again, if it's an overcorrection for the complete and abject failure of the effort to create suspense around Lucius's fate, I guess I can live with it.

If Izzy's death is a fuckery, that addresses a lot of the other problems with the finale. First, Ed and Stede's obviously-doomed, harebrained scheme to give up piracy and be innkeepers (in a dilapidated shack, on an island where we see no other people or settlements) is plausibly funny, as long as we aren't thinking that Izzy died for it.

Second, the tonal whiplash of going from the funeral to the wedding is also fine if everyone involved knows perfect well that the guest of honor at the funeral is actually recuperating just offscreen.

(Thirdly, there's Captain Frenchie--I haven't seen much discussion of that, but the only problem I had with it is that I can't think of any moments from the season where he stood out as being a leader for the crew. I might've missed something; he's not one of my particular blorbos, but it wouldn't have taken much, just something you can look back on and see how it was setting up him becoming captain.

And, crucially, we do have those few little moments of setup for Frenchie as First Mate to Captain Izzy. Frenchie was there during the dark days, during which he presumably underwent some skill development, pirate-wise, and definitely bonded with Izzy to some extent. We see him holding Izzy's hand during his breakdown, and he presumably helped hide him and definitely lied to Blackbeard about it, and then how they were sitting in the cell on Zheng's ship--it isn't a whole lot, but you can look back and see why it makes sense for Izzy to pick him.)

Making Izzy's death a fuckery doesn't do anything to fix the way the whole Zheng thing fell flat. (Why give her a massive fleet in the first place, only to take it away? Why did we get those scenes of ships being towed across land? What was she doing selling soup on the Republic of Pirates? For that matter, why did she come to the Caribbean in the first place, after becoming Pirate Queen of the Chinese seas?) It doesn't help with how Ed and Stede keep repeating the same beats of getting closer, then running away, then reuniting without ever talking about their relationship or their issues. It doesn't address why the Kraken Era had to go that dark, if the whole thing was just going to be smoothed over in the space between episodes 4 and 5, and how Ed never really takes responsibility for any of what he did.

However, middle installments of trilogies are notoriously difficult to write, and it isn't particularly fair to judge them before you get to the last part. Most of the weak points could look better in hindsight once we know how it all turns out.

(And, not for nothing, as long as Izzy is alive, we can still get something where Ed reckons with the Kraken Era, and particularly-but-not-exclusively what he did to Izzy. I don't see how that works with a dead Izzy, though--it's too easy for Ed to keep minimizing what he did and offloading blame onto him.)

There isn't a whole lot of evidence for an Izzy Lives scenario. All we have is:

This Show Wouldn't Do That (which, recall, was point 1 in why we didn't believe Lucius was dead. However, it is weakened by the absence of point 2--unlike with Lucius, the person who "killed" Izzy isn't a character we're expected to like or root for.)

No body at the funeral. I initially interpreted the funeral as being intended as proof that Izzy was really dead, a sort of "don't get your hopes up, guys," after what happened with Lucius. But again, if we're thinking about the framing of Izzy's "death" as an overcorrection to how completely non-fooled we all were by Lucius's, maaaaaybe not? I mean, if he really wanted to hammer the nail into the coffin, we would have seen Izzy lying in the grave, or his body being sewn into a shroud of sailcloth (as was the custom), or something. (Also, point 2b, the unicorn did have two legs.)

No Wee John at the funeral. There are certainly Doylist reasons he might've been left out--maybe the way the shooting schedule worked out, it saved money or some other resource to just leave him out of that scene, something like that. But for an in-universe reason, "somebody had to stay back and nurse Izzy" makes a lot of sense. (I mean, if this show operated on real-world logic, someone would have had to stay with the ship, but that's never been a concern before.) Wee John helping Izzy with his makeup for Calypso's birthday was presumably a bonding experience that involved some vulnerability on Izzy's part, so it would be weird for him to just nope out of the funeral, but plausible that Izzy would find him acceptable as a caregiver.

Stede and Ed's conversation over Izzy's grave could, just barely, make sense as a conversation about how Ed and Izzy are now on separate paths, with no particular guarantee that they'll see each other again. It takes a certain amount of massaging to make it fit, but it almost could? (Except Zheng's part really doesn't--unless the grave actually contains someone Ed cares about, or she isn't in on the secret that the funeral is a fuckery.)

I'm not in love with any of this, or even particularly convinced by it--my enthusiasm for any Season 3 is going to be pretty dampened, unless the announcement that it's been picked up includes the information that Con O'Neill has a contract to appear as a major character in all 8/10/whatever episodes--but IDK, I guess it's maybe not outside the realm of possibility? Ish?

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #I'm just spitballing here

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Buck's Eleven

Title: Buck's Eleven Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky and Steve with mentions of Bucky x ex!wife Reader Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Going into a job this big, you have to take the house or know the house will hunt you down and swallow you into its belly. Vegas is unforgiving. Good thing they're the best at what they do.

Content/Concept Warnings: Thief/Con Artist AU, smoking, 1960s elements, references to sexual acts

Notes: CONQUERING FOUR EVENTS/CHALLENGES, which is my crowning moment this summer:

@buckybarnesevents WEEK FIVE of Hot Bucky Summer: "When I First Met You..."

Sixth square of @buckybarnesbingo U4: "AU: Historical"Playing Games"

Featuring Lemonade and a Road trip for @the-slumberparty's June Challenge

AND MY FOURTH AND FINAL SQUARE for Connect4 Alternate June-iverse: C4 "Thief/Con Artist" (and including an Alpine sighting so I can collect my TOE BEANS)

This is an MCU homage to Ocean's Eleven drawing direct inspiration from the 1960 and 2001 films. The 2001 has been one of my favorite heist movies since it came out, and I had never seen the 1960s original until this week, but once I started watching it, my jaw dropped with excitement over how ripe it was to adapt for a Bucky (and Steve) AU because in the original, it's 15 years after WWII and the crew is a reassembled group of guys who were in the army together!

I borrowed some dialogue beats directly from the 2001 film, and those are in bold italics.

Story graphic by me, story dividers by @firefly-graphics, reblog graphic by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Bucky takes a seat in the chair across from the penitentiary’s release board and settles his hands casually in his lap.

The man in the center taps his cigarette in the ash tray before returning it to his lips. “Please state your name for the record.”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Thank you. Mr. Barnes, you’re meeting with this board today to answer a few questions so we can determine whether or not you intend to break the law again.”

Bucky nods. Contrition. Congeniality. A touch of charisma, but nothing too memorable. That’s what he must serve up.

“This is your first conviction, but you have been implicated in a long list of other cases for confidence schemes and frauds. Is this a fair and accurate record?”

Bucky glances at the doll off to the side at a small table of her own, clicking away impressively at a typewriter.

“I expect your records to be nothing but accurate, though – as you said – I’ve been implicated but never charged.”

“Mr. Barnes, what we’re trying to find out is: was there a reason you committed this crime, or was there simply a reason you got caught this time?”

“My wife left me. I was upset. I fell into a self-destructive pattern.”

Exactly what he knows they would like to hear.

“If released, is it likely you would fall into a similar pattern?”

Bucky cocks his head almost imperceptibly. “She already left me once; I don’t think she’d do it again just for kicks.”

“Fellas, you know I’d do almost anything for ya, but not… not this,” Banner looks between them, rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve smiles warmly, the smile he knows tricks his friends and his marks into whatever he needs. “Why waste all the little tricks that the army taught us just because it’s sort of peaceful now?”

The din of the night club around them – games of cards, dames performing on stage, drinks being served up all around – gives them all the privacy they need to hold a sensitive conversation around the table, just the three of them.

“We’re trained men,” Bucky adds.

“I know. I know you are, and we always did good work.”

“Better with you on the crew, you keep us careful.”

“You remember a little operation called Stacks back on the Sokovian front?” Steve asks.

“Do I! Eleven of us in and out under the cloaking of the trees at night with more Axis piles of cash than was decent for either side to have stockpiled away.”

“We should have buried it,” Bucky says.

“Speaking of money, you’re going to need an enormous amount of backing to pull this off in Vegas. The city’s not a sleepy little town tucked away near the mountains and off the grid of the main occupation, it’s got a million neon lights glowing on it every night.”

“Fury, easy.”

“None of us are gonna be as easy as you think. You’ll need the best electrician around, and Tony’s out.”

“Got religion?” Bucky asks.

“Naw, he and Pepper have got a kid now.”

Bucky looks to Steve, but he seems unconcerned. “Morgan – she’s cute.” Steve looks back to Banner. “I think he’ll do it.”

Banner shakes his head, but grins. “Pepper’s already unhappy he’s back in the game on the fluffy jobs, but if you think you can convince him… You get Fury and you get Tony, I’ll play ball with you.”

“You can’t do it. It’s impossible. I made it impossible. I invented casino security. When I first met you boys, you were bright young cocky upstarts. Now you’re bright and cocky – and just lucky that most of the time you’re not too cocky. Now I like you boys, but it can’t be done.”

“You know what? You’re probably right.”

“Eyes were too big for our stomachs.”

“You would know better than anyone.”

“Sure, sure. I just don’t want to see you boys behind bars, especially since you’re fresh out, Barnes.”

“Well, we appreciate the lemonade all the same,” Steve says, setting down his now empty glass.

“It’s hand pressed every morning down at the river market.”

“And thank you for taking care of Alpine while I was away,” Bucky scratches the the head of his white cat, who hasn’t stopped purring since being reunited. He scoops her up to his chest, and he and Steve stand to leave.

“It was good to see you, Nick,” Steve says.

“Give Maria your addresses on the way out, she’s got me a good source on Cuban cigars, I’ll send each of you a box.”

Bucky nods. “That’s sure nice of you.”

They turn and start to walk across the terrace toward the patio doors.

Fury looks after them. He sighs. “Tell me the marks.”

They slowly turn back, appearing to casually answer, but knowing this will bring him in.

“The… Sahara–“

“–Sahara, the Riviera, and the Dunes,” Bucky finishes.

“Hold on.” Fury stands. “Those are Pierce’s places. What do you two got against Pierce?”

“Pierce is the king on top of the mountain right now, nothing more than that.”

“I still owe him for how he got me with Project Insight,” Steve adds, “but I could get him back some other way. The golden opportunity to knock over his casinos on the fight night of the year, Thor vs. Starlord in a few weeks? That’s just destiny giving me the gift to make it sweeter that it’ll be his money.”

“And, Rogers, you’re okay with this knowing full well who the dame rumored to be attached to his son’s arm?”

“Yep,” Steve says without hesitation. “It’s not about her. Pierce is the king on the top of the mountain right now, we just want to topple him over. I still owe him for Project Insight. Besides, Buck’s not stupid enough to make this about a dame who divorced him, and like you said it’s only a rumor that she’s his doll.”

Fury turns his stare to Bucky. He shrugs. “She’s made it pretty clear with the divorce papers.”

He studies him for a moment, then seems satisfied.

“And you’re just going to go on your little road trip across the country recruiting your team?”

“Who doesn’t love a summer road trip?” Bucky asks, a full grin on his face.

“Sam’s already in Sin City, picked out a nice house for us to set up and lay low in Henderson.”

“Henderson’s nice and sleepy. Banner will be there by the end of the week, and we just came from seeing Tony.”

“You should swing through Salt Lake City, look in on the Maximov Twins, they’re pulling off some impressive stuff among the locals there.”

“I’ll put them on the list.”

Steve leans up against the side of the convertible while Bucky starts to pump the gas.

“Sam’s not eager about the kid.”

“I know he’s not,” Bucky smirks. “But he’s our grease man. There’s a reason they’re calling him the Spider Boy Wonder now. Besides, he was a kid before I went in, it’s been four years, he’s not a kid anymore.”

“He’s impressive.”

Steve lets silence fall for a beat.

“Tell me it’s not about her. Tell me you are not stupid enough to make this about her.”

Frankly Bucky is shocked and impressed that it took Steve thirty minutes to press him about you now that he knows.

“It’s not about her, it’s about five million cool a piece.”

Steve looks dubious. “Because when we say ‘till the end of the line…’”

“It’s not about her, she just happens to be there, but I’m not ignoring that fact – we’re just going to use it to our advantage because she’ll be a blind spot for him.”

“Because she was a blind spot for you?”

“No, she was never that.” She was fireworks, electricity, what kept him sharp when he was on his game, before he got caught and sulked behind bars.

Steve sighs and his face softens. “I know. Just promise me we don’t do anything stupid.”

"No, nothing stupid. Too much riding on this. Heist of our lives."

As they pulled out onto the street, car aimed for the interstate, Bucky wouldn't spend the duration of the road trip thinking about you, but you would cross his mind frequently, as you always had.

With the miles ahead of them, the memories of you could distract him in peace. Thoughts of when he first met you. Thoughts of sneaking into rooftop parties and pools at places like Fury’s like you two had done when you were both too broke to get in any other way. Thoughts of his hand disappearing under your skirt and up to tease the delicious heat between your thighs. Thoughts of your head falling back and exposing your throat to him. Thoughts of your head falling forward to rest against his. Thoughts of you gasping beneath him as he thrust inside you. Thoughts of you wrapped up in his arms, leaning against his chest as you watched the sun set on your little balcony of that third-floor apartment in the city. Thoughts of the soft mornings and late nights in the bed you had shared together until you didn’t. Thoughts he fights both to hold onto and forget.

But you were unforgettable. You were his. You had to be his again. He's waited for just the right angle to set you in his sights again, and he knows he can get you as sure as he knows they will walk away with over fifty million and without a trace.

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #buckybarnesbingo2023 #bbb2023 #hotbuckysummer2023 #alternate juneiverse 2023 #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes and steve rogers #oceans eleven au #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #alpine the cat #aspen wrote something #connect4au #female reader

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nancywheeeler · 1 year

Note

‘Eddie Munson should have died at the hands of the government instead of the Upside Down’ please expound on this your ideas are intriguing to me and I wish to subscribe to your newsletter.

okay, i am finally gonna release from the vault a text post i had drafted months ago about how reductive and bland i find eddie munson's "heroism" arc.

from a characterization standpoint, i totally understand why eddie declares himself a coward for running after witnessing chrissy (and later, patrick) die. his image of himself as a proud outcast willing to brandish a middle finger at societal norms, bolstered by playing a "satanic" game about misfits coming together to bravely face great evils, is completely shattered. however, from our viewpoint as an audience, eddie does what just about any of us would have done after watching someone die in a horrific, unexplainable manner and not knowing if what happened to them is about to happen to us.

...except the show then does this weird thing where it agrees with eddie's warped, guilty view of his actions. eddie is a coward for running. he should have...what? stayed, again not knowing if he would be killed next, tried to explain everything to hawkins pd, and gotten arrested? (which would have derailed the rest of the hawkins plot because, unless dustin & company staged a jailbreak, eddie then would have been in custody during fred and patrick's murders.) the plot demands he run, but to wring any sort of emotional catharsis out of his death, the writers want us to think "look! he's redeemed himself! this time he ran into the danger!" it equates self-preservation with selfishness and cowardice, which certainly isn't a new thing in media but it's boring and doesn't reflect reality.

and when you parallel eddie's death with billy's (and what i imagine steve's death would have been had they gone through with killing him in season one), it paints this uncomfortable picture that redemption can only be found through extreme self-sacrifice and ultimately death. boring! very boring! and again, why are we redeeming a character who doesn't need redemption?

i appreciate (and really like actually!) that the narrative dooms eddie from the beginning. there wouldn't have been a satisfying way to write him out of a triple homicide rap had he lived. that being said, i would have loved to see eddie survive the upside down, get arrested for the murders, and, while our intrepid heroes are expecting owens and his shadowy government contacts to swoop in, be killed by those same shadowy government contacts as a cover-up.

because that is all owens has been doing for the past three seasons: covering things up to save a fringe organization's ass. it's just been convenient for our gang that the cover-ups align with their interests, too, to the point they are over-reliant on owens stepping in with forged birth certificates and mall fires. only, in season four's case, eddie is the most convenient cover story. with owens left for dead in a bunker in the middle of the desert, what loyalty does the rest of this strange government operation have to the gang and to eddie that they would exert any additional effort concocting a more outlandish story than the easy one the town of hawkins has already bought into?

it would have been a great way to add additional stakes going into season five because the gang would have had absolutely no one to rely on or trust but themselves. no more clean-up crew to plant fake stories and file the paperwork. the government has never actually been on their side. it's hawkins against the upside down and the world, baby.

wow, this is so long and i am so sorry. i still have a lot of feelings about this apparently, even after all this time.

#ask #i think the problem with eddie's arc ultimately comes down to framing #what should have been a tragedy of conservative close-mindedness got turned into this weird statement on heroism #commit to the tragedy duffers! make your horror season real horror!#stranger things #for the filters <3

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

Text

Love Has No Limits

Part 2 of You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader, Past! Bradley 'Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: It's been two months since you broke up with Bradley Bradshaw, two months since you've been on an aircraft carrier. Things with Jake are great; they're better than ever. But you're still terrified to hand him your heart. What will you do when a tense situation on board nearly has you lose him too?

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, Cursing, Sex, Sexual Themes, Minor mention of non-consensual rough sex, Panic Attack

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 6418

A/N: Without further ado, here is the second installment of the You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes Universe. Remember when I said it was going to be short? I lied. We're looking at around 5 or 6 installments right now! All the thanks I have go to @desert-fern who was kind enough to beta read this chapter for me and teach me how to angst!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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Aircraft carriers are both bigger and smaller than civilians think. They’re longer than three football fields and can hold four squadrons of planes, their flight and operations crews, their pilots, and all other personnel necessary for carrier function. That’s the big part. The small part is how maze-like the hallways are inside. Some are so narrow that two people can barely walk side by side with an inch of space between them. There are so many decks and ways to reach the same destination.

You still remember your first time on a carrier. It had turned you around so badly that you needed to draw maps to get around. The disorientation had taken three months to get over, and you’d only been on the ship at that time for four months while running an analysis on the ship’s radar software.

Your current time onboard has been completely different. For one, you’d gotten your sea legs much sooner and had easily found your way around the carrier. The second was your team on the carrier. Mara was still a godsend. You loved working closely with her. When the two of you put your heads together, it felt like nothing could stand in your way.

And then there were the pilots testing your work. Mickey was as badass as you'd always been told he was. Immensely smart and a genuine sweetheart to boot. The one person who you couldn't place was Jake Seresin. He was the same as always up in the air - cocky, arrogant, and confident.

It was when he was out of the air and off duty that he was completely different. Jake had been incredibly sweet to you over the past six weeks the four of you had been on the carrier. You would have never expected it of Hangman. You knew he could be nice but sweet? It still amazes you how easy it is to get along with him. A small part of your psyche is still mortified by how you cried in his arms, but the larger part of you really liked how it felt. He felt safe. He felt like you were home.

It's past midnight as you toss and turn in your bunk. Your mind is running around in circles; all you can think of is Jake, Jake, Jake. In actuality, it has only been two months since you broke up with Bradley Bradshaw. While his betrayal still stings, like salt in a wound, in truth, the wound has been healing slowly. Initially, that wound was all you could feel, all your love turning to ash instantly. You’d felt like the aftermath of a forest fire with the gnarled ashy husks of trees stretching into the sky as embers still burned on the ground below. Then you’d finally let yourself cry that night. You’d felt all the embers flicker out under that warm spring rain and felt something new take root.

It’s the something new that’s been consuming you recently. Your heart stutters in its steady cadence when Jake looks at you nowadays. You get lost gazing into his green eyes, your normally quick brain grinding to a halt when faced with the power of his gaze. You’d thought falling in love with Bradley Bradshaw and its aftermath were the most intense emotions you’d ever felt. You’re starting to think you were wrong. You’re not shy. 90% of the time, you’d argue that you’re the opposite. But occasionally, Jake will sit down next to you, say something witty, flash that megawatt grin, and take your breath away. Every time that happens, you feel like a recalcitrant computer, needing to force-reboot your brain before it gets stuck on his dimples, eyes, or the toothpick in his mouth.

The worst part is how you used to pride yourself on your professionalism. With Jake Seresin, that professionalism had been stripped away as you poured out your heart and soul, showing him your weakness. And you’re constantly feeling wrong-footed. It’s an undercurrent to each interaction you’ve had with him, and you’re unsure if you want more with him. Can you take things slow? Your bruised heart might be screaming, “NO!”, at the top of its lungs, but your head is chanting, “YES!”, back just as adamantly.

It’s as quiet as it can be on an aircraft carrier. The creaking of your bunk, the steadfast rocking of the boat, and the snuffling sounds of people asleep around you are all you can hear. And then you hear the wheezing groan of the bunk above you as Mara climbs down. Her voice is sleep mussed as she leans over and slips on her shoes.

“Y’can’t sleep, can you? I’m gonna go switch out with one of the boys. Your tossing and turning are keeping me awake.”

“‘M sorry for keeping you awake, Mar. I haven’t been sleeping well. I hope the boys don’t get too angry at you for disturbing them.”

“Mickey might. But Jake? I don’t think he’ll object if I tell him it’s for you.”

And as the metal door clangs shut softly behind her, you’re left alone with your thoughts again. Obviously, you're not great at hiding how your thoughts turn to static in his presence. But despite what Mara has been telling you for months and Mickey for the past couple of weeks, you still can’t believe that Jake Seresin could ever harbor a soft spot for you. You’re rapidly eclipsing a singular soft spot for him, yourself. You can feel your resolve waver and become a pool of goop nearly daily. You’re not sure it’s safe to expose your heart again. Not really. But god, do you want to try.

You’re startled out of your reverie as the door opens. In the half-light spilling in from the hallway, you see a silhouette you’ve become intimately acquainted with over the past months.

“Hey, Bitsie. Mar told me you were having trouble sleeping. Mind if I join you?”

“J-Jake. Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

There’s a rustle of fabric, and you’re expecting to hear the creak of the bunk above you as he climbs up and settles in. But that’s not what you get. Instead, you get pushed to one side of the bunk and there is suddenly an interloper in your sheets. You can feel his naked skin pressing into yours as he drags the blankets over your shoulders and his hands sliding soothingly up and down your back as you lie stiff against him.

“C’mon, Bitsie. Relax. I’ve got you.”

The sweetness in his tone has you reeling. It takes a few moments before you finally let yourself go limp, surrendering to the thrall of his sleep-warm skin. He still smells like his cologne, something warm and musky with a slight hint of floral tones. And his body feels like a furnace. He's so warm. His arm wraps around your waist, drawing you in until you can feel the heat of his breath against your face.

“There. Isn’t that more comfortable?” He sounds so smug as he settles in with his big hand resting flush against your back.

Your answering hum is weak, nearly too quiet. Your heart is pounding, and you can already feel your thoughts race.

"Y'know, Jake, I didn't think you'd do this. I thought you'd take Mara's bunk."

"Mm. I gathered by how you went as stiff as a board as I pulled you close."

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest from where you are. Each breath is hypnotically steady.

"I was going to suggest an orgasm or two to help you unwind, but I didn't think you'd appreciate that suggestion."

You smack his arm, keeping your hand there as you grin into his chest. You’re grumbling under your breath as he tugs you even closer. Your feet are trapped between his calves as he rests his hands against your hips. You can feel the heat and roughness of his grip as he trails his fingers over the sliver of skin exposed from where your t-shirt had ridden up over the past hours you had been tossing and turning.

A chill slinks down your spine at the gentle touch, sending shocks of unease through you. It reminds you of another set of fingers gripping too tight at your hip in the heat of a fun night at the Hard Deck. Bradley had been drinking quite heavily that night, and he’d pawed at you, his normally gentle hands rough and harsh as they traced your skin. Jake had pulled him away that day and helped him sober slightly. But when he’d come back, Bradley had possessively clutched at you. He’d called you a slut that night, for the first time, as he fucked you until your eyes welled with tears and your cunt stung from the constant abuse he was wringing on your system.

The constant gentle press of Jake’s hands on your skin had you nearly hyperventilating. You push them away, and you’re sure Jake can tell how uncomfortable you are as he withdraws his hands immediately. He leaves as much space as possible in the tiny bunk between you, and you’re comforted at least a little by how seriously he takes your need for personal space. It takes several long moments before your breathing slows, and that irrational panic begins to fade. You’re reminding yourself repeatedly that Jake isn’t Bradley as you carefully ease yourself into his embrace. His hands are hesitant as he curls his arm around your upper back. Your voice isn’t steady and a little wet as you finally respond to his joking remark from earlier.

"Mmm… but you'd love it, wouldn't you? Another feather in your cap? Another notch in your bedpost?"

You can't help the sardonic lilt in your voice as your mood flags. You're not sure you could handle it if sex were all he wanted from you.

"What cap, darlin'? As far as I'm concerned, I don't have one. Not anymore. I haven't even thought about another girl in months. It's only been you. But from the beginning, you made it explicitly clear that Bradshaw was the only man you'd ever want to be with. You also made it equally clear that you didn't want anything to do with me. So I stopped flirting with you and stopped making you smile. I couldn't handle seeing you with him. And then, when the mission started, I couldn't let you hurt alone."

He sounds so different from the Jake, the Hangman you're used to hearing. His voice is gentle and soft as he pulls you close again.

"That's why I guess I've been different since this mission started. I just wanted to make you smile again. I wanted to heal your heart."

"Jake." You can't hide your shock. How do you respond? Did he just confess his feelings for you? You can't resist wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling close to his skin.

"M'sorry. M'sorry if I led you on."

"I know, baby. It wasn't your intention. And I know this isn't the right time. You've had a hard few months. I'm not going to pressure you into moving too fast. But you can lean on me, baby. I've got your back. I promise."

You curl in closer to his chest until you can feel the beat of his heart. His shoulders are tense as you press a feather-soft kiss against his skin.

"Jake. Thank you. I wish I'd never picked Bradley over you. We would've been so happy together. And you would've never hurt me as he did."

Jake presses a feather-soft kiss against your forehead as your words peter out.

“I wouldn’t have, baby. I would’ve made you so happy. You wouldn’t have wanted for a single thing. I’d spend every day making sure you were incandescently happy. But it wasn’t meant to be — you picked Bradshaw. I thought you made the right choice, too. When you smiled that gorgeous grin at him that day, I knew I couldn’t love you how you deserve to be loved. And we can’t go back in time to change that. All we can control is where we go from here. I pick you, darlin’. All you need to do is pick me too. Not now, but when you’re ready.”

The emotion in his words makes something warm glow in your chest. His chest heaves against your skin as he breathes deeply. You trace your fingers across his face, feeling the prickle of his stubble against the pads as you cup his jaw. His breathing picks up as you press your index finger against his mouth. His lips are soft and moist, slightly chapped against your fingertips as you press lightly against the supple skin.

“What’re you doing, baby?” You grin at the amusement in his tone, withdrawing your finger and pressing a kiss against it before tapping it against his mouth. You’re not expecting him to kiss your fingers back. The warmth in your chest ignites like a bonfire at the gentle caress. Your throat is tight as you press a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

"Jake, as much as the past months hurt, I also learned a lot from the experience. I learned a lot about myself. What I do and don't like in a partner. And what I deserve as a part of a relationship. I won't ever let anything like that happen again. I promise I’ll choose wisely this time, sweetheart."

Your words are slurring with your exhaustion. The warmth of Jake's skin sends drowsiness coursing through you.

“I have all the faith in you, sweetheart. And we’re going to talk about what happened to make you nearly have a panic attack later, too. Okay?”

"Okay. G'night, Jake." You can feel his smile as your eyes flutter closed.

"G'night, Bitsie."

Waking up is hard the next morning. There's a heavy limb draped across your back, and you're pressed tight against warm skin. Your legs are intertwined, and it's the most comfortable you've been in a long time. Even in a bunk made for one, it doesn't feel crowded. You feel at home, more than the last time you’d shared a bed with a man.

Or at least, you would if you didn't hear chattering from two people who don't belong in your quarters before the call to muster even rings in the early morning. They’re not trying to moderate their volume, either. You nuzzle into Jake closer, praying his bicep will block the noise from disturbing your sleep. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel his lips against your hair. If you hide long enough, would they just disappear? Apparently not. The longer you stay curled up in Jake’s arms, the louder the chatter grows, now interspersed with calls of his name, and the bigger his smile grows against the top of your head. He presses one final kiss against your forehead before releasing you and slipping out of the bunk.

“What’s the hurry, Fanboy?” His sleep-mussed voice is going to take you out. It’s rough and rich and deep. You want nothing more than to hear that voice call you “darlin’” again and cuddle up in his arms. But he’s awake and talking to Fanboy about something you can barely hear. His hair is fluffy atop his head, and he still hasn’t put on his shirt. You can just see the shadow of him through the soft sweatpants covering his legs, and the sight has your thighs clenching as he whirls around, grabs his worn Navy tee, and shrugs it on. All the levity has drained from his face as he takes two steps and crouches in front of you. You’re sitting in the bunk now, and your new position has brought you level with his face.

“What’s going on?” Your voice is soft as you cup his jaw. His eyes close at the press of your fingers against his lower lip. Like the night before, he presses a kiss against your fingertips before pulling you in close enough to whisper in your ear.

"G'Morning, Baby. I wish we could've stayed in bed longer, but something big is happenin’. The Captain wants us suited up and on deck to run flight patrols. The situation is rapidly developing. I have to go. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I need you to know that in case something bad goes down."

An unpleasant knot tightens in your chest as you tug him in closer by wrapping your hand around the base of his neck. You press a feather-soft kiss against his lips before hugging him tight. His arms wrap tight around your waist, and you can feel his shoulders tense as the adrenaline begins to course through his blood.

“Take care of yourself, and please take care of Mickey. Fly safe, fly true. Don’t do anything life-threatening. And above all, come home. Please.” You can’t keep the catch in your voice as you run your fingers through the short hairs at the base of his neck. “I just found you. Come home to me. So I can tell you I love you for the first time.”

That’s when you hear his breath hitch, and you’re being properly kissed. Everything else melts away except for Jake. It’s a painfully sweet kiss that has your heart racing even as dread slides its cold hooks into you. And it’s over far too soon as he pulls away before following Fanboy to get suited up. It’s a sober mood in your quarters as you and Mara get ready for the day and head to the flight operations center.

The entire ship is a hive of activity. You both have to flatten against the walls multiple times on the way, dodging sailors, flight personnel, and whoever else felt the need to run around in a ship bracing for an attack. You and Mara reach the Captain just as the jets take off. From the Flight Ops Center, you have a near perfect line of sight to see the planes rise like a flock of metallic birds into the sky. You can barely make out Jake and Mickey waiting on deck for their signal to launch and your heart feels tight as you fight the urge to steal a headset and tell him you love him. But you can’t, so all you do is clutch at the railing in front of you with all your strength and pray that they, that he will, come back safe.

“Captain Mills. What’s happening?” The Captain had already begun to sweat through his uniform as he beckons you and Mara closer.

You can hear the emotion in his voice as he downs the cold coffee in his mug before speaking in clipped tones, “At 10 past 0100, we received reports of patrols in our airspace. Naturally, the first thing we did was contact the COMPACFLT. But the admiral had no notice of flight operations happening in our airspace.”

The Captain pauses, seeming to try and find the necessary thread in what you assumed was a tangled web of information that would take hours to unwind. “The only reasonable assumption we can make is that it is the enemy. I’m afraid, ladies, that we are now standing by and evaluating the threat. This has the potential to evolve into a serious situation. We are requiring all non-essential personnel to remain confined to quarters. Consider this an order.”

With nothing better to do, and your heart having taken up permanent residence in your throat, you both head back to your quarters. Your heart aches as you fall into your bunk, which you had made roughly before you rushed out earlier, desperate for any news on the situation Jake was flying into. The pillows still smell like Jake, and if you screw your eyes shut tightly enough, you can still feel the tight press of his arms around you. You want nothing more than to rewind time, to go back to those few precious hours in the middle of the night when you’d had him in your arms - when you could’ve kissed him and when you could’ve told him you loved him. The what-ifs crowd your brain like a feral swarm of bees, sending your thoughts buzzing angrily. The more thoughts crowd your brain, the worse you feel.

You don’t think you can stand losing Jake. You just found him. That small seed of something between you has only just sprouted. You want to see it grow and flourish into an oak tree; tall and sturdy enough to withstand earthquakes, forest fires, lightning strikes, and flash floods. A tree strong enough to support a treehouse filled with tiny feet, hands, love, and laughter. But you’re not sure that you’ll ever be able to see that nascent sprout grow. Not when half of your heart is in a jet potentially flying into enemy crosshairs. Not when you last told him, “Come home so I can tell you I love you for the first time” instead of the “I love you” he deserved. The “I love you” that you had seen he had so desperately wanted to hear. Why had you said that? What if your words, your ardent pleas, weren’t enough? You aren’t omnipotent. You can’t change the trajectory of missiles or bullets. You have no control over anything, not even your racing thoughts as you realize that you might never see him again. Are you going to be cursed to spend the rest of your life imagining the what-ifs of an entire life that could have been?

It’s been hours since you and Mara have been confined to your quarters. Periodically you’ve heard the roar and whine of aircraft engines as they touch down and take off again. Every time you hear the engines’ roar, your traitorous heart skips a beat. You wait, staring at the door, hoping that Jake will bound through, Mickey behind him, still in his flight suit with his hair sweat streaked and sticking to his forehead. And each time, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach as the minutes pass and you hear the engines tick up again.

"Hey, you doing okay, Bitsie?" Mara’s voice shatters through the daydream you had crafted and it hurts. All you want is Jake in your arms once more, feeling his strong body against yours, hearing his heartbeat in your ear as he holds you close.

"As okay as can be expected, Mar." Your voice is thin in the silence of your quarters. Mara’s sitting on the sole desk chair while you’re curled up in your sheets. They don’t smell like Jake anymore. It’s driving you crazy, not knowing. You’ve cried what feels like an ocean’s worth of tears and your eyes are swollen and puffy, your voice thick and hoarse from your muffled sobs.

“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Jake last night? He kissed you this morning. You can’t tell me he’s just a friend. Not after that.”

Her voice is gentle, her eyes and hands beseeching as you try and fail to find the words. You drag your hand down your face before facing her, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you rest your elbows on your thighs.

“He’s not just a friend, Mar. He might be everything, and I was too stupid to admit it before now. Once bitten, twice shy, and all that, you know?” There is lingering bitterness in your tone, frustration at yourself for the mistakes you knew you had made in not choosing Jake in the first place.

Your breathing is ragged as you push away the hot feeling in the back of your throat. “I don’t know when it happened. Honest. I didn’t even know I had him, you know? He told me last night that he was interested in me from the moment he met me. But when I picked Bradley, he backed off because he knew that Bradley would treat me as I deserved. That Bradley would love me in a way that he couldn’t. He was wrong. And I was, too, Mar. How do I make the right choice when that choice might not even be here after today?” You are crying again. Somehow you still have tears left to cry, staring at the wall in front of you, these last tears dripping down your chin, marking your pants with the remnants of your despair.

“I - I don’t know.” Her position mirrors yours as the two of you stare at each other in silence. “But you can’t give up hope. You know they’re good pilots. They’re the best of the best, Bits. If anyone can pull through, it’ll be Jake and Micks. They have to.”

You clasp your hands tightly until all you can feel is the aching stretch of over-taxed muscles. Mara’s right. You can’t do anything but hope. Hope that the boys are alright and hope that your updates to the targeting and radar systems are enough to protect them.

It’s a runner from the Captain banging on your door who finally brings you news. The poor man is sweat-drenched, panting as he pauses to catch his breath before delivering his message. “The Captain wants you both in the Flight Ops Center. Something’s up with the radar system on Lieutenants Seresin and Garcia’s plane. We need you to help debug and resolve the situation. The improvements you’ve made while working on laser targeting are beyond us.”

“Understood.”

It’s your turn to run through the hallways and have people jump out of your way, Mara right behind you. This time when you enter the Flight Ops Center, it’s pin-drop silent. All eyes are on a singular, all too familiar display. The radar output shows an awfully familiar F-18/A. And you can see exactly why the Captain had called for you and Mara. The display is flickering erratically, jets blinking in and out of sight at random.

With your heart in your throat, you march right up to the tech on the computer system. "Give me your headset and your seat." Your tone leaves no room for argument, but he still protests, turning away from his fiddling with the system, to look at you in both frustration and disbelief.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I can't do that without the Captain's orders."

"I know. And right now, I don't care. I programmed that radar system. Captain Mills!" You are barking out an order right now, your voice quivering with authority. "Either you get your man out of this seat or I take it from him."

"Let her have the seat, Ensign George. And the headset. I called her here. She's one of the civilian consultants out of the Pentagon who built the damned thing."

You accept the headset and start examining the display in front of you. Pressing a button on the side of the headset you connect to Jake and Mickey's comms. "Auxiliary Patrol. This is Flight Ops Control. How read?"

"Audio clear, Flight Ops Control. How do you read me?" Your heart jumps when you hear Mickey’s voice emanate clearly through the headset.

Your relief washes over you, settling your racing thoughts and grounding you as you confirm their audio signals before responding, "Loud and clear, Auxiliary Patrol."

This time, when you hear from Jake and Mickey, it’s Jake’s voice on comms. "Auxiliary Patrol, we’re seeing multiple bogeys on the radar, but they’re ghosting in and out. Can you confirm?”

“Confirming loud and clear. We’re seeing the same thing here.” Your frustration colors your tone as the radar display glitches in front of your eyes."Do visuals confirm what the radar is saying?"

"Flight Ops, negative. Visual showing clear skies." Mickey’s voice is slightly cheeky as he responds. You sigh, knowing that you’re going to have to do something drastic to resolve this issue.

“Auxiliary Patrol. Can you turn on the external cameras? Flight Ops will act as your eyes while we reboot the radar.”

“Copy, ops. Cameras are live.” You can hear the slightest flick of the switch as Mickey enables the cameras that you and Mara had been using to help monitor the laser targeting system.

“Captain?”

The man nods, silently giving his permission for the order he knew would come next. “The floor is yours.”

“Right. Teams of five, report to one of the monitors. Keep your eyes peeled. We’ve got aviators flying blind and I’ll be damned if we’re taking home coffins after today.” Your voice leaves no room for protests as you address the room.

The men explode into activity around you and Mara. The two of you, in the meanwhile, keep silent, all your energy on the radar system, scanning the code flying across the screen with eagle-eyes. There aren’t any defects, so you decide to turn the radar back on. “Auxiliary Patrol, this is Flight Ops. We’re rebooting the radar and targeting systems now.”

“Copy, Flight Ops.”

There’s a tense silence blanketing the Flight Ops Center as you hit ‘Enter’ and watch the radar display in front of you blink back to life. It flickers and your breath catches when it stays dark for several long moments before illuminating. It’s finally, blessedly stable. There aren’t ghost bogeys on the screen anymore. Just one very clearly labeled F/A-18A and one very real SU-57.

“Are you seeing what we are, Flight Ops?”

“Copy, Auxiliary Patrol. One bogey, north, northwest bound, approaching your position at 400 knots.”

“Copy, Ops. What are your orders?” Jake’s voice is tense as he spits the words down the microphone.

That’s when Captain Mills finally weighs in again. “Do a flyby, son. Do not engage unless they do. I’ll get on the horn with the COMPACFLT and keep him apprised of the situation.” You relinquish the headset and station back to the radar tech you’d bullied them from and retreat to the peripherals of the room.

The gnawing desperate ache in your chest, the one that had been partially alleviated hearing Jake’s voice, is back again. It’s clawing at you as you clutch at a railing and plant yourself in a corner of the Ops Center. Captain Mills is talking furiously into a satellite phone, you presume to the COMPACFLT. But your eyes are on Jake and Mickey’s jet and their radar display. You can feel each swooping maneuver in the pit of your stomach as their jet approaches the SU-57.

It’s incredibly quiet in the Flight Ops Center as the two jets fly side by side for several long moments. You’re praying with everything you have that this doesn’t escalate, And then, like an answer to all of your prayers, the SU-57 breaks away, heading back in the direction it came.

“Ops, bogey one, now 400 yards away. Distance growing. Permission to return to carrier?”

“Permission granted.”

Captain Mills stalks towards where you and Mara stand. “Thanks for your assistance, ladies. We’re resuming normal operations per order of the COMPACFLT. Your mission will resume bright and early in the morning. I expect to see the both of you and Lieutenants Seresin and Garcia in the Flight Ops Center at 0800. Am I clear?”

“Yessir!” You’re quick to respond with a snappy salute. You’ve trespassed on Captain Mill’s authority one time too many already today with your show of power to the radar tech and for the sake of this operation, you’d rather not step on his toes any more than necessary

Your heart is light as you walk back to your quarters. There’s a sense of urgency dogging your steps, your lips curling unbidden into a giddy grin. By tacit agreement, Mara leaves you at the door before heading to Jake and Mickey’s quarters two doors down. He’s safe! He’s safe! He’s safe! You can’t quell the trembling of your hands as you wait. You reach for a book to read but you barely get a few words in before you’re dropping it again. It’s only been minutes since you left Flight Ops but your heart is doing acrobatics in your chest at the knowledge that Jake is returning soon. You bite your lip, maybe work will quell these jitters.

Of course, right as you pull up the radar system blueprints, the door to your quarters opens and Jake staggers in. He’s stinking of jet fuel, and coated in sweat, but you’ve never seen a better sight. He’s whole and safe and here with you. It’s all that you’ve been wishing for since he left you early this morning. You want to touch him, make sure he's not a figment of your imagination or a cruel dream from the depths of your subconscious. But no matter how you try to get your legs to move, you're frozen before him. That's when he moves, carefully cupping your jaw and drawing your eyes to his.

"I'm back, baby. Safe and sound, just as promised." Jake’s voice is quiet, like he’s afraid that speaking too loudly will shatter the bubble you two have created around yourselves. His eyes are filled with a softness unlike anything you’ve ever seen in man’s eyes before, let alone his. The sight makes your heart speed up, overjoyed to be in the calm his presence brings you.

You return his tender caress before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer. Jake’s hands are gentle as they bracket your waist before he finally lowers his mouth to yours. His mouth tastes like salt, and he stinks, but you can't begrudge the man you adore this kiss. He's more than deserving of it.

When you part for air, you can feel the imperceptible shudder wracking his muscles as the adrenaline drains away. "Go shower, Jake. You stink." There is a light humor in your tone as you grin up at him, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, reveling in the minute hitch in his breath as you meet his eyes once more.

His pout is sweet, and you can't resist pecking his lips once more as he turns and walks back out the door. It's only twenty short minutes later when he walks back in and collapses into your bunk. His hair is still damp, the longer hairs at the top of his head curling slightly as you pull on your own pajamas and crawl into the bunk next to him.

He mirrors your positions from the night before, tugging you in until his head rests against your breasts and you can feel his warmth across your whole body. You card your fingers through his hair, content to sit in the silence as long as he needs you to.

"Talk to me, baby." His voice is hushed and muffled against your breasts as he breathes deeply. "Tell me how you're doing."

"I feel like I should be asking you that, Jake. I was a wreck when you were up there, but I'm better now. I'm always better in your arms." You hope he knows that you mean every syllable, and you do. A selfish part of you wants to stay in his arms forever; just the two of you in your own little bubble for as long as you can.

Your throat is tight with the same tears you'd shed all day as you trace over the curve of his ear. "I love you. I should've told you before you left," you whisper, scared to say the words any louder lest they be ripped from you both.

Jake gasps before kissing you again, hard. He pours all his love and affection into the kiss and you return the ardor as best you can. The two of you kiss for several long moments before he rests his forehead against yours. You lie curled into each other for a while longer before you nuzzle at his cheek.

"Why d'you call me Bitsie, Jake? I've been wondering for a while."

He chuckles before pecking your lips and dragging you in until your lips are pressed to his collarbone. "I started calling you Bitsie because of the first demonstration of the radar you ever gave us. You were talking about manipulating bits. Gosh, it was probably only a couple of weeks since you'd come to Miramar. I was so gone for you already, baby. You're gorgeous, sweet, and smart as a whip. I wanted to show you I was listening to what you said."

"But I didn't take it that way. I was so rude to you the first time you called me that. I thought you were making fun of me." Your voice is soft as you trace a light pattern across his ribs. Your thoughts race as you catalog every interaction you remember having with Jake over your months in Miramar. Had Bradley Bradshaw really brainwashed your perception of him so terribly? Your mind races as you try and fail to find an explanation for your actions. They’ve been petty and rude and you don’t recognize the girl you are in them.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why did I assume what I did? Jake, how can you ever forgive me?” You hate how small your voice is, the regret at your actions over the past months coloring your tone.

“I can forgive you, sweetheart, because I love you. I have for a really long time,” Jake soothes, one hand cupping your jaw. “And you had a Chicken on your shoulder telling you who was right and who was wrong. Him and I? We have always been on the opposite ends of that scale. And I’ll give you one guess as to which of us is where.”

“He’s wrong, Jake. He’s wrong about you, he was wrong about me. We’ll show him. I’m not hiding this. You’re mine, now. And I want it all with you. Dates, kissing because you feel like it, dancing to the Jukebox in the Hard Deck, everything.”

“We’ll write this story with more than words, darling. I promise. And I love you.” You can feel your eyes close as you curl closer into his embrace, all the tension in your body finally draining away as you fall asleep.

In the morning, you’ll be back to working on the laser targeting systems, back to normalcy. But there’ll be something new to scope the limits of, as well. The butterflies in your stomach this time feel like flower petals kissing your skin. It’s a good portent for the days to come.

Taglist

@greenbaby12 ✈️ @mayhemmanaged ✈️ @desert-fern ✈️ @roostersforevergirl ✈️ @cassiemitchell ✈️ @eli2447 ✈️ @the-romanian-is-bae ✈️ @luckyladycreator2 ✈️ @lunamoonbby ✈️ @daphne-turner ✈️ @callsign-athena ✈️ @angeliccks ✈️ @dakotakazansky ✈️ @daisydaisygoose ✈️ @sarahsmi13s ✈️@roostette ✈️ @roosterforme ✈️ @lavenderbradshaw ✈️ @bobby-r2d2-floyd ✈️ @lovinglyeternal ✈️ @bradleybeachbabe ✈️

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#star writes #you play stupid games you win stupid prizes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #past rooster x reader #past bradley bradshaw x reader #past bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster is a dick #he's not the greatest in this #top gun imagine #top gun angst

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grandline-fics · 4 months

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Forget-Me-Not

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes things happen beyond our control. After an accident occurs your relationship with Zoro is turned on its head and changed forever.

WARNINGS: nothing too bad in this part

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 2,094

A/N: Chapter three is here, this one is a bit slower paced but hopefully you all like how things are progressing. Thank you all for your response to this so far, it means a lot.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

Your plan to escape the ship was easy in theory but slow to even begin to execute. Since you were still heavily injured from the ‘accident’ you needed to rest. So far you could manage getting in and out of bed and walk a little but anything more strenuous than that left you exhausted and sore even with Chopper’s medicine. As much as you were reluctant to compliment a pirate you had to admit the little reindeer knew his stuff and he had helped you considerably. So far since waking on their ship, he was the one you had the most contact with.

The only other person so far you dealt with was Sanji who brought you your meals. He didn’t speak much beyond a greeting and explaining what was in the food. You knew there was more he wanted to say but he didn’t. While you slowly picked at and ate the food given you would observe Sanji talk happily with Chopper, giving him his meal before leaving again.

You found it peculiar that the others you could hear moving around the ship were so hesitant to come and try to convince you they were your friends. As you ate with Chopper one afternoon you finally asked him about it. Your question seemed to surprise him but he explained. “Everyone knows how much you hated pirates until you joined us so they’re giving you the space you want. Even though they miss you and want to visit you, they don’t want you to feel crowded.”

It was convincing, you weren’t going to lie. Whatever these pirates wanted from you, they were doing their best to get you on their side. Still though, to believe you would willingly join a pirate crew was idiotic. You chose not to make any comment to Chopper’s explanation but after a moment you caught him staring at you, clearly wanting to say or ask you something but was deliberating the decision. It amused you to see he was so uncertain around you. “What is it Chopper?”

“Wo-would you…would you want to have some visitors now?” You could hear the eager, hopeful tone in Choppers voice and saw the way his eyes all but sparkled. Who was it specifically he wanted you to talk to you wondered. Or was he hoping to get a break from his obligations to taking care of you? You were curious about the other inhabitants of the ship so you gave Chopper your best tiny shrug and small smile. “Maybe one or two would be okay…” You barely finished the sentence before Chopper excitedly bounced to his feet and hurried out of the room, his speed startling you.

You had no choice but to wait for Chopper to return and at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway you glanced up to the door he’d left open during his quick exit. However it wasn’t Chopper that appeared like you were expecting. The green haired man that spoke to you when you woke passed by and at first you thought he was going to keep walking but on seeing the door was open he glanced in out of idle reflex and seeing you he stopped immediately. He turned his head to face you properly but made no further move to enter the room or speak. Instead he watched you carefully. “You coming in?” You asked evenly.

“Do I need to?” He asked, his voice as deep as it had been the day you woke but the concern was gone. He seemed to be on guard and you couldn’t help but tilt your head curiously at the sudden shift in attitude.

“Didn’t Chopper go get you?” You knew the answer was no from the way his eyebrows furrowed and shoulders tensed. Still you continued to clarify. “I told him I’d let some of you visit me.”

“Even with no memories?” He asked and you scowled at the suspicion in his tone, your jaw clenching when he even went so far as to fold his arms across his chest. His good eye scanned you critically and you bristled. How dare he judge you? He was the pirate here, not you. “Why would you want to be in the same room as the people you hate?”

“Well according to Chopper we’re all one big happy family and for a moment I wanted to see for myself if that was true.” You drawled sarcastically as you pulled yourself out of the bed and slowly shuffled towards the doorway as you glared up at him. Your actions weren’t any of his business anyway. “So, you going to come in here and fill my head with stories of adventures and friendship that’ll withstand anything?”

“Not with that attitude I’m not.” His answer made your eyes narrow. Before you could grit out a reply, hurried footsteps sounded and you looked into the hallway to see Chopper, a woman with orange hair and a male with black hair and a straw hat appear. The trio came to an abrupt halt when they saw you and their friend, all of their expressions differing from the other as they took in the scene and tension. Finally the green haired man broke the silence. “Enjoy your visits.” He muttered and was about to walk when you seethed, refusing to let him have the final word.

“I’ve changed my mind.” You snapped, slamming the door sharply and returning to your bed while you listened to the two new strangers shout.

“Goddamn it Zoro! What did you say?!” The female’s voice came angrily. So his name was Zoro, you thought as you settled against the pillows.

“Were you annoyed we were going to see them first?” You bit back a scoff and rolled your eyes at the second voice. As if he wanted to be part of the visiting crew, his whole presence told you he didn’t want to see you and that suited you fine. The less pirates you had to see and make nice to the better. “If you say sorry they might change their mind.”

“Just drop it Luffy.” Zoro’s voice spoke clearly but you could hear the tiredness in his tone as his heavy steps grew fainter. “Saying sorry won’t change anything.” You tried to listen for more but he’d gone with the others following him closely.

—————

In the middle of the night you felt too restless to even try and sleep. Nothing you’d thought of had helped and now you were just frustrated. Giving up you pulled yourself out of bed and followed the hallway until you were on the Sunny’s deck. It’d been a week since your confrontation with Zoro and since then your recovery had progressed at a decent pace that you could now walk further without feeling the strain. In that time each of the Strawhats had come to see you.

Luffy and Nami got a second attempt the day after the disaster. You found their dynamic amusing but Luffy’s boundless energy and extreme optimism that your memories would definitely return was exhausting. Thankfully Nami’s sterner approach to her Captain helped rein him in when his enthusiasm was clearly getting to be too much for you. Sanji began to stay a little longer between your meals and you found it slightly easier to talk to him since you were more familiar with him just as you were with Chopper.

Usopp surprised you by telling about his friend back home who was sick often and relied on him for stories to distract her and keep her spirits high. He gave you the same treatment, telling you stories of the ‘great captain Usopp’ all of them over embellished and having nothing to do with you or your connection to the crew. Robin was quieter and for the first couple of visits didn’t speak much, merely bringing a couple books in case you wanted to read while she brought one for herself to pass the time when you weren’t in the mood for conversation. Thankfully she was similar to Usopp, not forcing the conversation of your past or prodding into your lack of memories.

Franky and Brook unnerved you on your first meetings with them. A cyborg and a talking skeleton were huge things to have to absorb for anyone. You managed to force yourself to push through that adjustment. You kept telling yourself that you wouldn’t have to be dealing with this obscure crew for long. You’d overheard Nami mention an island coming up and that would be your chance at getting home. Your patience would be rewarded, you just had to hold out a little longer.

For now though, your focus was on your lack of sleep this night. You weren’t in the mood to stay out on the deck so you climbed the extra set of steps and walked into the galley, not surprised to see it empty and quiet. Flicking on the light you approached the cabinets and let out a small laugh to see the prominent lock on the fridge. Chopper had told you Luffy liked to steal food and Sanji had taken precautions to keep him away. Since you weren’t exactly hungry and didn’t know the code, you turned and flicked the light off again. You were about to leave when you heard two voices coming from the mast leading to the Crow’s Nest.

“You’re an even bigger dumbass than I originally thought, you know that?” It surprised you to hear Sanji speak so coldly. “What are you trying to prove by being the only person to not see them.”

“Keep you stupid face out of my business and stick to what you do know.” Ah that explained it, Zoro was the reason.

“Look we’re not stupid…well most of us aren’t stupid.” Sanji growled out as though his less aggressive tone was causing him harm. He was desperately trying to get his rival to see sense but it was next to impossible. “We know they don’t know us anymore and it’s hard but we’re all still trying. Just because it’s not the same doesn’t mean we just throw it all away. Not when it’s possible we can create a friendship with them again.”

“Well if you want to try that then you go right ahead.” Zoro’s tone was sharp and dismissive. “The first chance they get, they’ll be gone. If they’d half their strength back they would have already tried to steal the Mini Merry by now.”

“I’m not disagreeing but can’t you at least-”

“Look I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again. Back off and leave me to deal with things on my own.” With nothing more to say Zoro stalked away to his room while Sanji let out a sigh and climbed the Crow’s Nest to start his watch.

Thankfully you managed to make it back to the medical quarters while Sanji’s back was turned to you. Silently you processed the conversation you’d unintentionally listened in on. There was no denying the sincerity and insistence in Sanji’s voice as he tried to convince Zoro to not distance himself. Zoro’s cold demeanour was something you couldn’t really decipher because you knew nothing about him. You knew nothing of these people apart from what they allowed you to see in your brief interactions. Sharply you sighed and sat on your bed, this wasn’t the plan. Trying to work out these people was a complication. Over and over you told yourself that home and only the home you remembered was your goal.

You were certain you wouldn’t get any sleep now so you reached over and turned on your bedside lamp and looked at the small pile of books that had gathered. According to Robin these were your current favourites or at least they were before the knowledge of them were erased. Your eyes were drawn to one near the bottom. Its cracked spine showed it had been reread countless times so you reached out and lifted it.

Blankly you studied the cover, not surprised but still disappointed that it gave you no emotional response, no familiarity or fondness to be holding it again. As you settled back in your bed you opened the book to the first page but your movement made something appear between the pages towards the end of the book. A small card had been used as a bookmark and curiously you pulled it out to inspect it. It was for your birthday and your eyes locked in on the short message beneath your name. “Love always, Zoro.”

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa , @vikispike , @portgasmyass , @diarythroughmylens , @itsagoodluckkiss , @emmaiscool22

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wooahaeproductions · 7 months

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Haru Haru (svt smau)-three: lord help us

Summary: Your friend, Soonyoung confesses to you in some form all the time despite knowing you don’t like him like that. But what happens when someone suddenly becomes interested in him and he eventually stops confessing to you?

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: smau, college au, fluff, angst, and comedy

Word Count: 396

Warnings (for the chapter): Soonyoung is insane, Seungkwan might commit murder, and big embarrassment

Rating (for the chapter): PG-13

Soonyoung’s POV:

Y/N’s POV and the private twitters:

You sat in the center of the school’s theater with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, watching Soonyoung and Bust a Move’s monthly showcase. Wonwoo was holding down the fort at the coffee shop, which wouldn't be too bad considering most people were at the showcase as well. Soonyoung’s dance crew was very popular among the students and SVT University.

The performance was amazing, like you expected. As annoying as Soonyoung’s constant gifts and confessions of love were, he was still your best friend and you enjoyed coming to support his dance crew. They were doing their final routine featuring Soonyoung, Chan, and Minghao and the audience had reached peak cheering.

They finished, ending in their final pose and chests heaving to catch their breaths before heading backstage. Soonyoung would return in a few minutes to thank the audience for coming like he always did after each performance. He was more nervous this time, but no one besides him would know that.

Soonyoung stood at the edge of the stage and lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He fixed his bangs that had fallen over his eyes and took a deep breath before going back out to the middle of the stage. In the wings, Minghao and Chan exchanged a look between each other.

Soonyoung smiled as he stood in front of the mic at the front and said, “I just wanted to thank everyone for coming today and thank those that come every month without fail.” Hollers and whistles reverberated in the theater, making him pause before he continued what he was really there to say.

“And today I wanted to especially thank Y/N, for always supporting me and coming to every single showcase no matter how bad we were. I love you.” The hollering had stopped and dissolved into whispers instead as people looked around the theater, wondering where and who “Y/N” was.

Seungkwan’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Soonyoung from the audience. If they were lasers, they would have burned a hole through Soonyoung’s head. He couldn’t wait until he got ahold of him later.

Embarrassment settled in, as well as your flight or fight response. Choosing flight, you needed to get out of there. You made a beeline toward the door in the back with Jeonghan’s voice calling your name as he tried to keep up with you.

CHAPTER TWO | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER FOUR

A/N: oh man it’s going downnnnn

Taglist: @wongyuseokie @gyuwoncheol @horanghater @sleepymoon27 @lvlystars @hamji-hae @isabellah29 @hoichi02 @thepoopdokyeomtouched @aaniag @nishloves @sana-is-ms-rmty @itsokaytobedumb00

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#seventeen smau #kvanity #svthub #kbookshelf #svt hoshi #kwon soonyoung #svt fluff #svt angst #svt comedy #svt soonyoung

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rorywritesjunk · 1 month

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(Day 19. "Is this for me?" SunnyxBuggy with some ThistlexMarco. This AU I gave Sunny an injury to her hand which ended her apprenticeship early and had her joining Buggy sooner.)

"So, what are you getting him for his birthday?" Thistle asked as she and Sunny watched Buggy carry around little Rayleigh. The little girl decided Uncle Buggy was the absolute greatest person and refused to be held by anyone else currently. The little visit the four of them arranged was nice: head to an island that would be neutral territory for both crews. Buggy still took some issue with his sister being part of and married to a member of Whitebeard's crew but he stopped complaining about it when he was given the baby to hold.

"I ask and he either says he just wants all the treasure..." Sunny began to say before glancing over at Thistle. "Or... He gets very lovey and says that I'm his greatest treasure so... I don't know yet."

"He's such a romantic nowadays, isn't he?" Thistle hummed as she watched her brother with her daughter, how he kept lifting her up to show her some trees, point out birds, little things like that. All Rayleigh wanted to do was grab his nose. "He's grown up so much."

"I really want to get him something special." Sunny sighed as Buggy tried to keep his head away from his niece. She kept reaching for his face. "I just don't know what."

"The only thing I remember him loving more than treasure was some pancake whale stuffy I stole for him when we were first taken in by Roger and Rayleigh." Thistle told her as Buggy finally caved and let the baby grab him. "He chucked it over the side of the ship when he turned 10 after some asshole said he was too old for that sorta thing."

"What?! That's so mean!"

"Eh, not everyone was always nice." Thistle shrugged. "I stole all of that guy's shoelaces after that, however. I didn't like what he said to Buggy."

"Why shoelaces?" Sunny asked.

"So he had to walk everywhere barefoot." Thistle told her. "And sometimes there were sharp rocks and broken glass."

"... Huh, okay."

"Anyway, you'll think of something. I wouldn't worry too much."

Sunny nodded, a look of concentration on her face as she watched her husband. How could someone say that to a child? She looked back at Thistle.

"Could you draw it for me?"

Sunny's birthday came first. Buggy gifted her with pretty fabrics his crew looted from a merchant ship, along with some nice kitchenware. He offered to give her the jewels he found, but it wasn't necessarily her idea of treasure so she let him keep it. He made her dinner, got drunk, told her all night how much he loved her, then crashed on the bed at midnight.

She made sure he was comfortable before she went to clean the kitchen as she thought about what to do for his birthday. She had a small idea but wasn't sure how she'd accomplish it.

Buggy's birthday came faster than she expected but she was ready. She cooked him a tasty dinner and gave him his gifts. Three new cravats she found at a shop, two new bandanas (one cut from the same fabric of a dress she managed to make from his gift to her, the stitching was a little rough in places but Buggy said nothing as he tied it around his hair), and the final gift she almost hesitated to give him. What if he thought it was weird? Would he get mad at Thistle for telling Sunny about it? She didn't want the siblings upset with each other, they only just reconnected after all those years apart.

She hesitated on the last gift, keeping it behind her back while Buggy finished fixing his hair under his new bandana. He spotted the polka dotted wrapping paper and looked up at his wife.

"Is this for me?" He asked, pointing with one hand while the other snuck around to grab it. Sunny tried to take it back from him but he kept it out of her reach. "Ohhh, what didja get me, babe? Hm? What's got you so shy?"

"It's-"

"Oh, maybe sexy lingerie you wanna wear for me?" He grinned at her as he brought the gift back to himself. "Feels... A bit bulkier."

"It's not lingerie, honey." She told him. "But... I don't want you to get upset."

Buggy frowned at his wife before looking back at the parcel in his hands. Glancing back at her, he carefully unwrapped it, wondering what she was going to give him. Divorce papers, maybe? No, she loved him. She told him this morning in bed when she was in his lap, her hands touching him as he held her close, grateful for her to be in his life.

The paper fell to the ground and he held up a mishaped flat whale. The fabric was a dark blue with light blue polka dots. The stuffing was uneven in places and the eyes were stitched on lopsided. Buggy swallowed heavily and looked up at her.

"Thistle told me about this. I... I thought maybe you'd like it." She laughed nervously as she reached for it. He hated it, didn't he? Not only did she likely stir up sad memories from his childhood, the thing looked ridiculous. She struggled to do some of the most simple tasks now that nothing came out right. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

He set it down before standing up. Sunny stood her ground, wondering how he would react, but he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close as he let his cheek rest against the top of her head.

"Buggy?" She wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him. "Honey? Are you okay?"

He pulled back and cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes. "It's perfect, babe. Don't stress, okay? It's-uh, it's a one of a kind thing, y'know? And *I* have the only one!"

"You like it then?" She asked. "I-I went off a drawing your sister did for me. She told me what happened and I felt so bad for you and-and I wanted you to have a good birthday since this is the first one since we got married and-"

Buggy silenced her with a kiss. He didn't want her to doubt the appreciation he had for the gift. He knew she worked hard on it, knew it would have been difficult for her to cut out the pattern, sew everything together, and wrap it. Her hand injury made things difficult for her and the fact she took the time to make it for him told him how much she really loved him.

When he pulled back from the kiss, her eyes were wide and shiny with tears but she was smiling at him.

"I'm glad you like it, Buggy."

"Yea, well, I'll like anything you give me, babe." He grinned as he leaned down to cover her face with kisses. She let out a surprise yelp, trying to wriggle away from him but not making much of an effort. He let one hand venture over to the table, wanting to touch the gift once more.

He couldn't believe she made that just for him.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #thistle x marco #bugust fic

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smg-69 · 5 months

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I really don’t think Mr Puzzles is dead or gone for good.

We see him pop up out of SMG4’s tv, and we see his head again on the train heading towards Western Spaghetti, so chances are he can pop up out of any television. Therefore, even if Four destroyed the head, Mr Puzzles can probably just possess something else.

We ALSO see him not just as a tv program, but also a computer ad/virus, so he likely has more than one form he can take.

This guy knows how to play his cards right. He knows how to stir up trouble to keep the show going. And he is incredibly good at manipulating people behind the scenes, even to the point of turning Mario and Four into antagonists. There’s no way in hell he didn’t have some sort of back up plan just in case things went wrong.

When Mr Puzzles first appears in the WOTFI, he has already failed three times. The first with possessing Four, the second with Wren’s simulation, and the third with Marty and Mario. Although, these three movies were one hell of a performance, which I’m sure Puzzles enjoyed, it does beg the question as to the motive behind each adventure.

What was end goal behind the possessed keyboard? He had to have known it would cause the creep and possess anyone using it, but what exactly was the creep meant for? How did he create that keyboard in the first place? What would be the point in creating something that could take over and possibly kill himself? So either he expected that the crew would eventually destroy the creep and the castle, or he had something else planned for it.

If Puzzles had already planned to kidnap the SMG4 crew and brainwash them, then what was the point of allowing Wren to stick them in his simulation? If the characters are stuck in there, Puzzles can’t exactly use them for anything. Eventually he’d have to remove some of the crew from Wren in order to puppet them, but doing so would just cause the simulation to crash like it did with Tari. Not to mention, I highly doubt Wren would just let him take his perfect rivalry away from him.

Why did Puzzles go after Three’s notebook? He sent a fax to Marty that was meant specifically to goad him into stealing the notebook, when he could have instead caused a fight over Eggdog or even Beeg. There was a build up of the mystery of Three’s notebook even before Marty got the letter, and if Puzzles didn’t get involved until the fax, why would Three suddenly start showing it around? Is there something in that book that Puzzles wants, and if so, has he been manipulating Three into writing in it for the purposes of narrative buildup or to get the book out in the open?

And finally, what was the point of drawing Four to the Showgrounds? Puzzles can appear out of any tv, so why would he need Four to be in that one specific place to begin with? Why not go after him at Peach’s Castle?

Something that’s also bugging me is that there is no way in hell Puzzles would not have known about the incident with Zero, and subsequently the power of the Meme Guardians. SMG1 and SMG2 are completely absent from the tv shows, despite a lot of the other side characters (Swag, Shroomy, Bowser, the Toads, etc.) being there, likely to keep them from connecting and using their powers to break free. And yet, Three and Four are kept together. Is Puzzles aware that they aren’t as well trained in using memes, or is he just relying on the weirdass tension between the two to keep them from holding hands?

All of this stinks of an ulterior motive other than making the highest rated tv show. Mr. Puzzles is way too smart to have gone down so easily, and I would not be surprised if he came back.

#smg4 #smg3 #western spaghetti #wotfi 2023 #mr puzzles #Puzzlevision #it’s gotta be perfect #theory #smg1 #smg2

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thatsnotmygunflash · 1 year

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Okay @simpledontmeanpeachy this is like a week late but I finally got the inspiration I needed to write prompt 25 "It gave me great joy,"

I really fell in love with this and might add to it honestly (or someone else can if they want) it's set in a world where Barry grew up in the foster system and turned out way differently.

Len was nursing his first drink of the night at Saints and Sinners an hour before his crew was suppose to meet up for their weekly check-in when Hartley came waltzing in the front door. Len didn't bother to turn and look, taking a smooth sip of his beer as the young scientist came up to the empty bar.

"Rathaway, little early, even by your standards." Len said in observation. Hartley Rathaway wasn't the newest addition to his Rouges or even the youngest, but he was by far the smartest and most capable out of the lot. They had worked three big jobs together in the past year and a half and besides his sister, he was the only one Len felt gave it to him straight and pulled his weight enough for it to mean anything to Len. He wouldn't call them friends, but they were friendly. Not friendly enough, however, for Hartley to show up without an agenda.

"I wanted a chance to speak privately before the rest of the crew show up,"

"About?" Len assumed it would be business Hartley wanted to discuss but this must be something he didn't want the rest of the crew to know about yet.

"You heard about the new player in town, right?"

How could he not, when it was all anyone in the city wanted to talk about lately.

"The Chemist?" At Hartley's nod of confirmation Len tilted his chin down in understanding. "I've heard whispers, why?"

"He approached me last night, said he needed a little tech support, willing to pay more than well for my time too."

"Did you take the job?" Len had never cared about Hartley's freelance work before, unless it directly effected Len's own timetable, but they had never had issues with scheduling before. Len made sure of it.

"You're not asking the important questions, Snart."

"If you have something to say, Rathaway, say it." Len didn't enjoy the condescending smirk painted on Hartley's face and he definitely didn't like a single word that came next.

"He's planning on hitting the Federal Reserve, the same one you're planning on hitting in two months. Which wouldn't be a problem for you, if he wasn't planning on making his move next week."

"Next week." Next week. Next. Week. There was no way. The Chemist had just hit First National two weeks ago. He couldn't be that reckless, especially when the cops and the papers had painted him to be some kind of evil-mastermind. Len had been casing the Reserve himself everyday for four months, there was no way he would have missed another thief doing the same.

"Yep. He doesn't even have a crew either. Plans to do it all by himself. Seems like kind of a loner. Pretty though. And smart. Meta too, I think. Full package really."

"You think he can pull it off." Len didn't need the snort of agreement Hartley let out to let him know he was right. Hartley was not an easily impressed man, which meant this Chemist was someone to be on guard with.

"Oh, definitely. Especially with my help covering his tracks, but, because I knew he'd end up iced for fucking with your job, I convinced him to come here tonight to talk to you about joining the Rouges."

Hartley had told a man who enjoyed explosives where his entire crew was meeting tonight. The nerve of this kid.

"And you just expected me to be okay with that?"

"Well, obviously." Hartley scoffed, waving a dismissive hand in the air when he saw Len's icy glare. "I thought you'd agree it couldn't hurt to have other smart and pretty people around to look at. You should have seen his face when I told him I worked for you. It gave me great joy. Watching him go from obnoxiously cocky to painfully desperate just at the sound of your name. I think you have a fan."

A fan. A fan. The Chemist was a fan. Good lord.

"You better pray this works out in our favor, Rathaway, or it's your ass."

"I'm not worried." Hartley shrugged carelessly, his smirk turning into something like delight when the door opened behind them.

"And why's that?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Hartley replied, pointing a finger behind Len's shoulder.

"Wha-" Len turned to see who the new comer was, losing his voice and the ability to move when he caught sight of an unmistakably familiar face. Len couldn't believe what he was seeing. Barry Allen, the flirty barista from the coffee shop Len had been using as cover for his stakeouts of the Reserve was standing just three feet in front of him. The same Barry Allen that he had taken home with him five nights ago. The same Barry Allen that had not taken Len's one night stand policy well.

Barry gave a lazy wave, not bothering to hide the challenge in his eyes or the smugness coating his voice.

"Hey Lenny. Miss me?"

#i will never shut up #about Barry's villain potential #I didn't plan on the ending but I like it a little too much now #but who isn't a sucker for a coffee shop au #even if it is just a cover for the both of them #there's just so much I could do with this #coldflash #captain cold #the rouges #the chemist #writing prompts

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

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Good things come...

AN: The lovely @mrsmischief209 sent me a gif of Billy Russo looking fine and basically gave me either canon adjacent or Professor AU. I’ve gone with the latter and I hope you enjoy.

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me

Master list

Summary: Yesterday was your final exam, and today you were planning to relax and recover. What you didn’t expect, though, is to find your very hot History professor standing at your door.

Relationship: Professor Billy Russo x College Student Reader

Word Count: 2k

CW: Power imbalance (sort of), Age gap (reader early 20’s, Billy late 30’s, kissing and heavy petting, implied smut, pet names.

Chill.

Chill!

If you told it to yourself enough times, you might start to listen. You needed to get your beating heart and rapid breath under control before he noticed. He being your history professor, or rather, as of yesterday, your ex-history professor, who was currently standing at the door to your small, cluttered studio apartment, flashing you that disarming smile of his.

“Umm, Professor Russo. How can I help you?” You were standing behind your open door, head poked around the side of it, acutely aware that, because you hadn’t been expecting anyone to visit you the day after your final exam, you were severely underdressed. As in sleep t-shirt and panties only. No pants. No bra.

“Hey there! I just popped by to see how you were doing. See if you've recovered from yesterday. Can I…err?” He gesticulated with his hand to the part of your apartment he could see between the door and the door frame.

“Oh, yes. Umm. Just give me a moment.” You shut the door and flew into panic mode.

You ran towards your bed, but not without first detouring past the sofa to pick up your discarded clothes, including one of your bras, that were littered over it. You skidded in your socked feet on the wooden floor as you dumped your armful on the counterpane. You dug through the heap and dragged the yoga pants you found up your legs, hopping from foot to foot. Padding through to your tiny bathroom, you pulled your sleep-tee off, and quickly gave yourself a once over with a damp washcloth, while scrubbing your teeth. Jogging back through your wrestled with the closest bra and threw a clean t-shirt over your head and pulled the privacy curtain around the bed to hide the worst of your housekeeping fail. It wasn’t the most well put together outfit, but at least you were decent.

Heading back to your door, you hooked your fingers through the parade of dirty mugs on the coffee table and dumped them in your sink. You couldn’t do much about the pile of takeout containers stacked by the trash can.

You opened the door again, a bright smile plastered on your face and were met with Professor Russo’s mischievous, boyish grin.

You’d been struck by him at your very first History of Warfare lecture. The former soldier turned college professor exuded boyish charm with his sparkling eyes and knowing smirk. You’d had the hots for him the last three years, hanging on his every word and feeling your face heat with embarrassment every time he asked you a question or praised you in front of the rest of the class. You thought you’d done a good job of hiding it though, or rather, you hoped you had.

Holding the door wide, you gestured for him to enter. With his hands in his pockets, he made it to your couch in four long-legged strides and settled onto it like he belonged there. Which was stupid, because, firstly, it was a very ratty couch, covered by a slightly less ratty throw rug you’d picked up at the thrift store, and two, he was your professor. Ex-professor. Whatever. At least he was dressed down today, in a crew neck knitted sweater and jeans. If he’d been wearing one of his suits, you might have expired on the spot.

“Can I get you a drink, Professor.”

The smile on his face didn’t waver.

“Just some water would be fine.”

You moved around your small kitchenette inelegantly, trying to find one of your ‘good’ glasses and before realising you’d have to wash one up. You did so briskly, popping the kettle on the stove as the faucet ran so you could make yourself a cup of chamomile. You felt in need of its soothing effects.

You decanted some bottled water from your fridge into the now clean glass, poured boiling water over the teabag in your favourite mug and nervously made your way back over to the sofa. The entire time it had seemed that Professor Russo was observing you with mild amusement. Placing your mug on the coffee table, you passed him his glass and then curled up on the opposite end of your sofa. He was twisted in his seat, so he could see you, right foot resting on his left knee and his left arm running along the back of the couch. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you from over the rim of the glass as he took a sip.

“So… Professor. You just doing the rounds and checking on everyone?”

“Something like that, yes. I had to check that my best student was doing okay.” You felt the heat crawling up your face at his compliment, and you distracted yourself by leaning forward and snagging your mug of tea from the table.

“Yes. I’m fine. That last question had me stumped for a bit, but hopefully I managed to get the important points down on the paper. We’ll find out in a few weeks, I suppose.”

“I have no doubt that you expressed yourself most eloquently.”

You took a sip of your tea as he finished his water and placed his glass on the coffee table. Then, to your surprise and confusion, he plucked the mug from your fingers, put it down, then shifted closer, taking your hands in his. You froze, eyes wide and gaze locked on where his long fingers caressed your wrists.

“P-Professor?” How you managed to even say anything astounded you.

“Please, sweetheart. I’m not your professor any more, am I? My name’s Billy. Do you think you could call me that?”

Sweetheart? Oh! That pet name did things to you.

“Umm, okay. Billy. Erm, what are you doing?”

As you said his name his eyes closed, his lashes kissing his cheeks, and a tremor ran through him, before he opened his eyes again to look at you.

“I really hope that I’m not misreading this, but I couldn’t go a day more without saying something. I like you, my little Sunbeam. I like the way you turned up on your first day, full of enthusiasm, smiling, interested. I like the way that you always had spare pens for anyone who needed, and that you never, ever turned up without that extra large ‘to go’ cup. I like how you’re kind, and smart, and funny. I like how you duck your head when you’re embarrassed by my praise, just like you’re doing now. My ray of sunshine.”

One of his hands came up, the pointer finger catching under your chin and untucking your head so you had no choice but to look him in the eyes again.

“I like you a lot, and I’m wondering if I could kiss you?”

“If you could… what? Me?”

This wasn’t making sense. You? He liked you? You had to be dreaming, right? You must have tripped on your rug going to open your door hitting your head on the coffee table, and this was all some figment of your now damaged mind. It had to be. Because otherwise, Professor Russo - Billy - was currently sitting on your sofa asking to kiss you, and that couldn’t be what was actually happening.

A chuckle broke through your internal crisis.

“Earth to Sunbeam? Have I broken you, sweetheart? And there I was thinking that I hadn’t done a good enough job of hiding how I felt.”

“I - I..” You shook your head and couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that made its way up your throat. You pulled your hands from his and fanned your face, uncaring of the embarrassment now, because it couldn’t get any worse. “Okay. Umm, well. I’m sorry. I’d like to say I’m normally more put together than this, and that you caught me off guard, but… umm… surprise, I’m always this much of a disaster.”

He laughed again.

“You’re not a disaster.”

“You caught on to the fact that I have the hots for you, but I had no idea you liked me back.”

His smile was wide and full of amused affection as he shuffled a bit closer.

“I’ve just had more experience hiding it than you. But you’ve not answered my question? Please, can I kiss you?”

The arm that he had along the back of your couch was only inches away from embracing your shoulders, his other hand so close to touching your leg. He was leaning forwards and his face, his lips were so close, so tempting. Why were you so worried? You liked him, he liked you, and as of yesterday, he was no longer your teacher. There was nothing wrong here, so you just had to bite the bullet.

“Yes…”

You breathed out the word on a sigh, and although quiet, it was still the consent he obviously required from you.

His lips descended onto yours, as your hands found his sweater, your fingers curling into the soft fabric and using it like an anchor before you were buffeted away on waves of sensation. Yes, Billy’s lips were soft, but his kiss was firm, with no hesitation. It was a claiming, a brand. He was etching himself on your body with only the smallest touch. It was so much more than you’d ever imagined in your private moments and yet it wasn’t enough.

Whether it was your unintentional whimper, or the way you moved closer, your fingers tightening even more on his sweater that let him know, but Billy picked up on your need, leaning over you, pressing your body into the couch as he cupped your face and deepened the kiss. He tasted your mouth and swallowed your noises of pleasure, and your hips pressed up against his.

He ripped his mouth away, looking down at you with a feral expression on his face. You reached up with a hand to brush a lock of his brown hair away from his eyes, smiling at him, like a lamb who has no idea they are being led to slaughter. But you did know, and you couldn’t wait for what was to come.

“My Sunny-girl…”

His head lowered once more, but fell to your neck, licking and sucking over your pulse point. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, not knowing whether to hold him closer or push him away. His own hands slid down your torso, toying with the hem of your t-shirt, until you arched up again and gave him verbal permission to continue.

“Please. I want you to touch me.”

Billy groaned into your skin as he pushed up the well-worn cotton, baring your stomach and your bra-covered breasts to his eyes and questing fingers. Both traced over your skin, taking in every swell, every scar, every mark.

“I knew you’d be beautiful.” His thumb brushed over one cup of your plain, grey bra, watching with interest as your nipple hardened, before doing the same to the other one. You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze, caught between wanting to hide and wanting to bare yourself to him further.

“Professor…Billy…”

“Shh.Shh. I know, darling. I know. I want it too.”

He leant back, and in one motion pulled his sweater over his head, and you marvelled at his sculpted chest. You reached out a tentative hand, skimming it over his pecs, his dusky nipples and towards his abs and the trail of hair that led down under his jeans. He watched you explore and, emboldened, you sat back up, pulling your t-shirt free and discarding your bra. You stood and he followed suit, arching an eyebrow at you.

You smiled, looping your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, and backed towards the curtain shrouding your bed, drawing him along.

“Just pretend you don’t see the clutter, okay?”

“Sunny, I’m not gonna see anything except you…”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @luxeavenger @yarnforbrains @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @writing-for-marvel

#Billy Russo #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x y/n #professor billy russo #late writes #fic request

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