#sh fan fiction

[megamindsecretlair]

When It Feels Right

Pairing: Lamont Diggs x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, protected PIV, oral (female receiving) fingering (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word. Drug use.

Summary: Lamont invited you to his studio to help work on his new beat. You help him in more ways than one.

Word Count: 5,057k

A/N: Hello, my loves. I have been feral for this man since watching this show. This was LONG overdue. This is the winner of the Fic poll, thank you to everyone who voted! ONE SHOT. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @wide-nose-and-wonderful @hereformiles @flydotty @blackerthings @notapradagurl7

Lamont released a heavy cloud of smoke in the air. You bobbed your head to the new beat he made. Lamont matched your bobbing head, a slow grin working its way across his face. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, trying to feel the beat without him coloring your opinion.

Just because he was your best friend didn’t mean that you couldn’t lay down the truth when needed. The good Lord knew that he didn’t need an even bigger head. 

As the beat faded and came to a close, Lamont clapped his hands in the too silent studio. It was a rare night where he didn’t have Melissa, couldn’t sleep, and his boys weren’t in the background smoking up all the weed. 

“Go on and tell me that’s hot!” He yelled and clapped his hands again. He played with a few switches on the switchboard and then swung his chair to face you. You swung idly on your own chair, back and forth. 

You gave him a funny look, not willing to admit that it was good. Of course it was good. Dude really knew his fucking craft. 

“It’s aight,” you said and dismissed him with a wave.

“Bullshit!” Lamont yelled. The joint hung from his lips as his long, delicate fingers flew over switches and knobs and he ran the track back. The deep bass thumped through the speakers once more and he turned to you, brows furrowing to gauge your reaction.

“Damn, I’m playing!” You said and giggled. You pushed away from his too intense stare. He sucked his teeth and pushed you back.

“Tell me what you really think, damn,” he said. 

“Nah, that shit is fire, Lamont. Seriously, you tore this up,” you said.

“Thanks, thanks. Just need some dope lyrics on it. Tired of them mumble rapper m’fucka’s,” Lamont said. 

He shook his head, his locs tussling over his face and dropping into his eyes. Your hand itched to push it away so you could continue looking at him. You swung your chair away from him so that your face didn’t give you away. It was the weed talking, nothing more. 

You played with the sleeves of your sweater, swinging around and around in circles until his studio became a dizzy array of green and red. Like Christmas. That was a much safer line of thinking. You could think about lights, gingerbread houses, and pinecones and not about how Lamont’s lips poked out, ready to be kissed.

Lamont turned down the beat and deposited the joint in the nearby ashtray. The smell was loud, filling your senses with its aroma. You smacked his shoulder as you passed him and then smacked it again until he relented and handed it to you.

You took a lungful, holding it in and rolling it around your tongue before releasing it back out into the studio. You watched the smoke lift towards the popcorn ceiling, wishing it would take your thoughts with it. You smoked so that your brain could pause like a TV show. So that you could stop to take in the details around you and make sense of it. 

Your stomach turned and roiled so you stuck your foot out to slow your spins. Lamont was on his phone scrolling through Instagram.

“You always on that damn phone,” you said, grinning as you realized that you sounded like your mama. 

“Okay, Ms. Etta,” he said.

“Shut up! That is not my mama name!” 

Lamont peeked at you from the curtain of his locs and smirked, holding out his hand for the joint. You took one last inhale, the burning embers at the end filling your peripheral vision before you handed it back to him. He dumped the ashes and then took a puff, putting it down on the ashtray. 

Lamont returned his attention back to his phone, head slightly bouncing to the beat he made. Your eyes slowly tracked over all of the mini orange, red, and green lights blinking from the switchboard.

This was the kind of laid back music that would be in a lounge somewhere. Your mind’s eye filled in details of blue ambient lighting. Black men and women and those in between dressed in their finest business casual. Men in deep, monochromatic suits and shiny shoes. Women in dresses a hair shy of too short, showing off long, thick legs and strappy high heels. 

You pictured glasses clinking, words whispered amongst friends, and glances thrown across the room. Ballers sending trays of drinks to the group of women at the bar knowing exactly what they were doing by leaning over it. 

It was a type of sexy beat that you felt in your inner thighs first. The thrumming bass making your thighs jiggle. Warming heat working its way up your spine until you couldn’t help but nod your head, bump your shoulders, and look at your friend to see if they were feeling the beat like you were.

You turned to Lamont, ready to tell him, when his nose was buried in his phone again. You groaned and reached out to slap your hand over the phone.

“You said you wanted no distractions tonight, remember?” You asked.

“I’m done with the beat though,” he said. He moved his phone out of your way and you leaned over a little further to try and snatch it from his fingers. His arms were longer than yours and he easily held it away from you. 

“You said not to let you get distracted. Hand it here,” you said. You snapped your fingers. Lamont shook his head, his locs whipping across his face. His gold chain glinted in the low lighting and it was stark against his white T-shirt, dyed green in the studio lighting.

“You ain’t gon’ snap yo fingers like you somebody,” he said.

“I AM! SOME-BODY!” You cackled at your own joke, eyes wide and smiling so big that your cheeks ached. 

“Goofy ass. You need to stay off this shit,” he said. 

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you said. You continued to reach across the short space between you, trying to reach his phone. You were high, but not that high. Your thoughts were coherent and slow. Like you could pluck each of them out and lay them on a blanket. That you could take your time and choose between them like choosing your outfit. 

“C’mon, watch out,” he said. He nudged you back but you were undeterred. Your tongue stuck out of your mouth, so deep in your concentration. Lamont chuckled, effortlessly fighting you off. 

You huffed and you huffed but you could not blow this wolf down. You sat back in the seat and sighed. “For real, Lamont. I did not come over here, at midnight, just for you to play on your phone. I wanna see some magic,” you said.

“Girl, I just showed yo ass the Magic Kingdom,” he said.

You laughed at his corny ass line and shook your head. “One beat is all you got?” You asked.

“All I got?” Lamont scoffed, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. 

You inwardly grinned, using your knowledge of him to your advantage. He always rose to the occasion. He was almost too easy as he sat forward in his seat. His left hand dropped the phone in between you while he focused on the board once more.

Where you only saw switches and gears, he saw instruments. This board was a modern orchestra and he knew exactly which sounds to pull from it. Which drums sounded dirty enough to warrant adding snares and strings. 

You snatched his phone from beside him. He instantly balked, trying to get it back from you. You didn’t have the length he did, so you had to resort to putting it behind your back and trying to slide your chair away from him.

He put one hand on your chair to stop your retreat and then the other went in search of his missing phone.

“C’mon, stop playing!” He laughed as he struggled to get the phone from you.

You only had so many places to stick it. You kept moving it like you were playing hot potato with it, tossing it from one hand to the other. “You come on! I know why you call me here. So I can keep yo ass focused!”

“I focus just fine without you. Ever think I just want your company?” He asked.

“Duh, you always want my company,” you teased, still moving the phone every two seconds while he lunged for it. A giddy feeling swelled in your chest like a balloon, filling up all of your hollow crevices and giving you the feeling of floating despite feeling heavy. 

“Always? You loud and wrong,” he said. He sat back with a huff, eying you. You grinned, looking for any type of eye twitch or flicker. Anything to indicate that he would make a sudden move and try to snatch it from you. 

“Oh? I guess I should just leave then,” you said. You leaned out of the chair, butt hovering over the seat that was practically molded to your ass by now. You felt a few twinges. The side effect of sitting too long. All this cushion in your ass didn’t mean shit. 

“Man, sit yo ass down and hand me my phone. Please?” Lamont asked. But the please was not sincere. You stuck out your tongue while you placed the phone down your shirt.

The warm metal laid across your skin and you grinned at Lamont’s expression. His face kind of froze. Or paused while he stared at your chest. It was nothing new for the two of you, so you couldn’t name why it made your belly flip. 

“You think that’s gon’ stop me?” He asked. Was it you or did his voice get a little deeper? A little rougher? 

You adjusted the phone against your cleavage and threw up your hands. “What you gon’ do?” You asked.

Lamont licked his lips, a small smile forming on his lips. “You know I can just turn you upside down and shake you like a toy?” 

Nope. That did not make your pussy flutter. You did not imagine shaking for entirely different reasons. 

There was always this thickness between you and Lamont. A sort of sticky, gooey middle that kept you glued to his side all these years. You had been friends for so long, you didn’t remember the exact number. Where one went, there went the other. There was always a lingering look, a hand on the hip placed too long, a bite to the lip. 

You never crossed the line. The timing was never right. Either you were with somebody or he was. He was nursing your broken heart while you were getting him turnt up for his. He had an entire baby with Mia who had him wrapped around her tiny manicured pinky. Despite his protests otherwise. 

Now. Now you were both single. Unattached. No messy drama getting in the way. 

“Whatever, Lamont. I am here to keep you on track,” you said. You shook your head and smacked your lips. “Literally and figuratively.” 

“Gimme my phone,” he said, that same rough voice dancing along the sticky gooeyness that made your toes curl. He didn’t need to see the way you looked down trying to get yourself under control. 

“What you gon’ do?” You asked, rolling your neck for emphasis.

He smiled and shook his head. He waved his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture and you smacked his hand. 

“What you gon’ do? What you gon’ do?” You kept asking, waiting for him to reply. To say something. Anything. You were tossing out the question like a fishing line, baiting him with delicious chum. With the irresistible urge to either latch on and let you know that it wasn’t just you or toss it aside and let it drop once and for all. 

“Say it one more time and I’ll show you what I’m gon’ do,” he said. 

“What you gon’ do?” You said slowly, enunciating each word so there were no misunderstandings.

Lamont’s hand shot out and pulled your fuzzy sweater away from your chest. His other hand snuck up your shirt and went fishing around for his phone. But his hands roamed too broadly, lightly squeezing your titty every so often. 

“Lamont!” You yelled. 

He licked his lips and got closer. His breath fanned across your face, a subtle mix of candy and weed. His hand continued to roam while he slowly closed the distance between your lips. He looked at you the entire time, giving you ample opportunity to back away.

But you wanted this. You casted that fishing line out into the ether, so you closed the distance for him. You pressed your lips against his finally. Your dreams didn’t come close. It was nothing like what you thought it would be and everything you dreamt it could. 

His lips were soft against yours. Smooth tongue running over your lips and sloppily slanting against yours. You hummed, low and softly but you were sure he heard it. His hands continued to roam under your shirt, no longer seeking his phone. 

Instead, his hands found your breasts and began to knead them, fingers grappling for your nipple. As soon as his fingers found that little pebble – no bra because you hadn’t felt like throwing on one just to chill with Lamont – he squeezed and rolled it between his fingers.

“Oh shit,” you said against his lips, finally pulling back far enough to get some air. Some room. 

“Mhm,” he moaned. “You think I ain’t been paying attention these past few years?” He asked.

“Wh-what you mean?” You asked. He rolled his lips around yours, kissing you but only just so. His wide nose danced against yours. One thing about high sex that you loved was how sensitive you became. How the little hairs on your skin picked up the different changes in temperature or tingled with every brush of skin. 

“All them nasty ass stories you liked to tell. About how men never hit it how you like,” he said.

He switched his hand to your other titty, seeking your nipple a lot faster. He rolled it in between your fingers and your breath stuttered. 

Already, he was leagues better than half the guys you’d been with. Or perhaps it was your lingering, previously unclaimed chemistry, doing most of the work for you. This was inevitable. Your lips would always meet his. His hands would always press into your skin. 

“You remember that?” You asked.

“Kept hoping it would be me in one of them stories. ‘Cept, I know what I’m doin’,” he said.

You giggled and pushed away from him. “Big fuckin’ words, boy,” you said.

Lamont had a playful frown on his face, considering your words, before he slapped his hands onto the arm rests of your chair. He caged you in your chair while he leaned down for more kisses.

His lips were like little clouds of heaven. Each one sweet, soft, and lazy. He lowered himself to his knees, still too tall for his own good. He kept kissing you, even while his hands went roaming again. 

He pulled your sweater off and took in the white tank underneath. His lips found yours again as if he didn’t want to be gone too long. He mixed in nips and licks to keep you on your toes. He grabbed his phone from out of your tank and placed it on the edge of the switch board.

He returned his attention to your body, kissing and biting you through the fabric of your tank. You felt him, but you didn’t really feel him. You lifted the tank and threw it over your head.

Cool air from the studio hit your upper body and you immediately shivered. Even with the thumping beat and lingering smoke, you weren’t warm enough. Lamont helped you lower your leggings and panties, pulling them off and throwing them across the room.

You were fully naked, staring into his dark eyes while he was still dressed. He leaned back, took in your curves, dips, and valleys with a satisfied grin.

“So that’s what you look like underneath all them damn sweaters. You been keepin’ this from me?” He asked.

He rubbed the goosebumps from your arms, scooting in between your legs and making you spread them wider to accommodate him. He looked you in the eye while he lifted one leg, kissed it, ran his tongue right behind your knee before placing it on the arm rest.

You felt ready to explode. He did the same to your other leg, but trailed more kisses down the length of it before placing it on the arm rest.

“You gon’ answer me?” He asked.

“Waat?” You asked. 

He chuckled. “You were just gon’ keep hiding this from me?” He asked.

“I-I wasn’t trynna hide it,” you said. Your words were slow to form and even slower to get out. 

“You wasn’t? Then why I ain’t never get a taste yet?” He asked.

He leaned across your body. His cotton shirt was almost too rough against your skin. You hissed, moving away from him but he moved forward anyway. The shirt tickled your skin but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to giggle. 

Anticipation flipped in your belly, like it was playing hopscotch in there. You didn’t know what he was going to do next. You were on an infinite precipice of waiting.

He didn’t make you wait long. He kissed you, moving his hands between you to brush his fingers along your wet seam. You jerked in the chair but he had you effectively pinned. You had nowhere to go. Trapped in the chair with him covering your naked body. 

You moaned, licked your lips in between kisses, and then went back to feeling those sexy lips on yours. 

His fingers pushed in, separating your pussy lips and dipping into your heated essence. He moaned into your lips, tugging on your bottom lip. “You always get this wet?” He asked.

“Uh-uh,” you said. 

“No? I just bring that out of you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You had no words. With every swipe of his fingers, he pulled them out of your head. Each pass of his fingers around your clit made one more word disappear like air. 

“So that means I get to taste it right?” He asked. He moved his nose against yours and you sighed, your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Uh-huh,” you said, lips finding his again and again. His wet, suckling kisses made you see stars behind your eyelids. 

His knuckle nudged into your clit and you hissed, releasing the air in short bursts. “Oh, she a little excited,” he said.

“Oh shit,” you moaned. “Don’t tease me.” 

“Don’t tease you? I like teasing you. I finally know how to shut that attitude up,” he said.

“You too damn cocky,” you moaned. 

“Still running that mouth,” he said. He moved his fingers to dip in and out of your pussy, pushing his fingers deep to his knuckle. Your mouth dropped open, eyes turned bruising. 

He moved his lips to your jaw and kissed down to your neck. He sprinkled kisses across your chest and then licked your nipple into his mouth, suckling. “Oh my god,” you gasped, back lifting from the chair.

Your pussy greedily sucked his fingers inside. “That’s right. Grip them fingers. Show me you like what I��m doing to you. Getting wetter over here, I’m gon’ have to buy a new chair,” he whispered around your nipple.

Your hands came up to play with his locs, rolling them between your fingers and loving the feel of them. You were in sensory overload. Everything was too much and not enough. Lamont’s filthy words had you screaming towards a climax, thighs shaking and pussy gripping him tighter.

“That’s fuckin’ right. Been dyin’ to know what you look like when you cum. You gon’ look like that riding this dick? Huh? How many pretty faces can you make while I’m rearranging your guts?” He asked.

“Lamont!” You twitched. 

He continued to pump his fingers as you calmed down. It was like he was exploring your pussy with his fingers. Trying to gauge how deep you could take him. Your grip tightened around his neck and he hummed, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

When you relaxed against the chair, Lamont slowed down his fingers until stopping altogether. He licked his fingers and moaned. “Taste so fuckin’ good. You doing okay?” He asked.

You nodded, loosening your grip on his neck. You wiped up run away drool, feeling a bit embarrassed that a little finger action made you cum quicker than a man in a porn store. 

Lamont shook his head, shaking the locs from his face as he pressed his face into your pussy. He took a loud, deep breathe and blew air between your pussy lips.

“Oh shit!” You screamed, hands flying back to his head. You gripped his hair while he began to eat you out in earnest, using his tongue first. 

He leaned back and hummed, slapped your pussy. “Damn,” he moaned. “So fuckin’ good.” He was a messy eater, digging in like it was his last meal. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He brought his hands up to roll your nipples between his fingers, squeezing and squeezing until he pinched them.

“Fuck, fuck. Lamont! Damn,” you moaned, biting your lip. Fuck! It felt too good. So damn good with his lips between your thighs and his locs tickling your skin, and your hands digging into his head. Smashing his face into your pussy, giving him free rein to explore this thing between you. 

“Name sound sexy on your lips. Say it again,” he said, coming up for a bite of air. 

“Lamont,” you said with a grin. His eyes flicked to yours while he continued to make out with your pussy.

“Again,” he said, muffled against your wet core. 

Lamont!” You moaned while your orgasm was cresting the surface. Pressure built in your lower belly, getting so close with each new flick. Each new lick. Each new moan that told you he liked what was between your thighs. The thought that you could please him, even by the small act of being wet for him, turned the tide.

Your hand flew back to the back of the chair to steady you while your back arched. “Oh shit, Lamont!” Your neck rolled against the top of the chair while your body twitched and convulsed. Your body turned limp, riding the orgasm wherever it took you. However you looked while you spasmed. 

“Tasting so fuckin’ good. Fuck, I been missing out,” Lamonst said into your pussy. He continued to lap like a cat to cream. “So fuckin’ sweet. So fuckin’ good.” 

He lumbered to his feet, tossing off his white shirt. His chain bounced against his dark skin. His tattoos were darker still, spread out all over his body. You watched him through slitted eyes while he unzipped his pants. 

He freed his dick and rubbed the hardened length. Shit, he was perfect. Big and girthy. It was always the skinniest niggas that packed the biggest punch. It had a slight curve to it and your pussy clenched just seeing it.

He dug into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, flipping it open and grabbing a condom. He tore it open, found the right side, and then pinched the tip. You watched him as he rolled it onto his dick, adjusting here or there until it was fully on.

He pushed your thighs back on the chair. It protested with a loud groan, conflicting with a different beat in the background. Something laid back, lazy, and slow. Light danced over his features while he leaned forward, towering over you bent like a pretzel in his chair.

“You feelin’ aiight?” He asked.

“Yes, nigga!” You said with a smack of your teeth. He chuckled, grabbing your throat with his left hand. Your eyes rolled involuntarily, hand flying to grab his wrist. Not to push him away, but to keep him there. To push for more pressure.

He obliged you, squeezing harder until you were ready to cum just from that. “You must need some dick to get you right,” he said. 

“Umph, yesss,” you moaned. 

He used his right hand to grip his dick and run it through your damp folds, getting the condom slick with your wetness. He pushed in slowly. You hissed, pushing against his thighs. 

“Uh-uh, don’t push me away. Move them hands,” he said.

“But Lamont–”

“Move. Them. Hands,” he growled, getting close to your face and squeezing your neck.

You moved your hands with a whine. He was too damn big. He rolled his hips, sliding inside of you and working his way deeper. Your hands flew back to his thighs, pushing at him.

“Move them fuckin’ hands,” he rasped. 

“Please,” you begged. You were going to pass out. There was too much pleasure. Too much desire and lust. Too much of him. His scent, his sighs, his scorching looks. He lit fires in your veins that made you whimper and pout.

“Move them fuckin’ hands right now,” he said.

Again, your hands slid away from his sweat-slick thighs with a whine. The sound was needy and desperate. You had no way of slowing this down. Slowing it down to a pace you could quickly adjust to.

His dick didn’t hurt, he just stretched you deliciously. So much so that you had a goofy smile spread across your lips like icing on a cake. You moved your hands back to his hand on your neck.

He rolled and moved his hips, stroking into you with deep, long thrusts at a steady pace that stole your breath. You whined, choppy hums in your throat. “Why you doin’ this to meeee,” you moaned. 

“‘Cause I been waiting too long to get in this pussy. I’ma enjoy that shit,” he said. He smirked and dropped down to kiss you while he stroked deeper still.

You sank onto his dick while he rolled his hips, moaning with every glide. He lifted his head and rolled his neck, closing his eyes. You watched his face while he stroked, watched as he found some type of groove like your body was the switchboard and he was making a complicated beat.

He lined up perfectly. Your back arched. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Right there, right there, Lamont,” you moaned.

“Right there?” He asked. He kept hitting your sweet spot, not deviating in the slightest. 

“Right there, oh my god, I’m gon’ cum,” you moaned.

“Give it to me. Let me feel that pretty pussy grippin’ this dick. She feel so fuckin’ good. Wrapped around this dick. This what you needed? Huh? This what you needed? Them other niggas ain’t have all this for you, did they?”

Each of his questions grew fainter as your orgasm came closer and closer. Your hand pushed against his chest. Your eyes were too far in the back of your head. You were worrying a groove into your bottom lip by biting too hard. 

“You still with me? This dick got yo tongue?” He asked.

“I’m-” You came with a loud moan, louder than you had ever moaned before. You twitched in the chair, the groans from it sounded violent. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Feel so good, Lamont!” You cried out. Yelled out. 

It was a good thing that you were in a proper studio and there was no one around to hear you. Had you been at your place, your neighbors would know his fucking name. 

Your hands scratched at his stomach while he chuckled and kept stroking. “Fuck. You squeezin’ the fuck outta me. You ain’t trynna let me go, huh? Now that you know I know how to hit it right. What got you screaming. What got you moaning. What got you cummin’ on this dick like that,” he said. 

“Oh baby,” you moaned. 

“I’m baby now? What happened to my name?” He asked.

At this point, you didn’t know your own name. You clenched around his dick and he cursed, slamming into you one more time before you felt him twitch inside. You had an errant fantasy about him cumming inside you, spilling his fat load into you and then fucking it into you. 

You tucked that particular one to the back of your mind while Lamont dropped against you, loosening his grip around your throat. Your matching pants and gasps made the moment soft but fuzzy around the edges. Like when you first woke up from a good nap and didn’t know what year it was or what you were doing beforehand.

Lamont slipped out of you, stumbling back. He took off the condom, tied the ends, and threw it in the nearest trash can. He sat in own chair. He tucked himself back in but didn’t zip up his pants. 

You slowly lowered your legs from the chair, feeling thoroughly fucked out. You looked towards Lamont who was studying you in the same way. He smiled first. Your smile matched his as the gravity of what you just did sunk in. 

Sunk down deep into your bones. There was no going back from this. There was no way to pretend this didn’t exist. That he wasn’t just deep enough in your guts to still feel the lingering effects. You felt empty without him. 

“We wasted too much fuckin’ time,” he said softly. You nodded and licked your lips.

You tapped the tips of your fingers trying to reorient yourself. Bring yourself down to reality. The reality of you with Lamont. You smiled. “Let’s not waste anymore.”

You had sex again on his red, leather couch. Nasty, intense sex where his hands were back around your throat, he was stroking deep in your guts, and staring into your eyes while he continued to shatter your world over and over again. You grinned and giggled in between his nasty words and your faint pleas for mercy. 

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but you were excited to find out.

THE END

Psst, over here! The Secret Lamont Files.

[haveateadude]

bleak horizons iii.

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ opening up it's not easy, isn't it?

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ depression, self-harm mention, and disordered eating (not explicitly mentioned but you can clearly see it's there)

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ helloooo welcome to part 3!!!!!! i think this might be the last part (if u have an idea on how this can continue feel free to tell me. u can send a request or just leave the idea in the comments). also just saying, this stuff is based on MY issues and experiences with mental health, so this might not be truthful to everyone. my insta is @/starsfinder_ if anyone wants to vent or just talk :))

remember you're not alone if you're going through a shitty moment, trust me!! ik everyone says to ask for help, and even if that's soo fucking true i know some people are not listened (even if that's literally a fucking RIGHT). so, as i said, you can dm me <33 take care of yourselves pleaseee. can't stress enough how much i want y'all to know you're not alone. hi. hello. i care!!!!!!!! and i'm here!!!!!! so please listen to me when i say everything's going to be alright :)) i love youuuuuu

also, sorry for any mistakes. i'm sooo tired rn lmao

pt1 — pt2 — pt3

I told you a lie, désolé, mon amour

I'm trying my best, don't know what's in store

The next week, I stepped out of therapy crying. I got into the car, slamming the door.

“Hey,” Ellie says softly, looking at me with her hands resting on the wheel, her gaze full of worry. “You okay?”

“Drive.”

“But—”

“Just drive.”

“Okay.”

Ellie starts driving. I wipe my tears, feeling overwhelmed. My mother had called yesterday and made me feel like shit. I wasn't doing my best at school. Ellie and I hadn't gone out since Christmas. So basically, everything was shit. I've also had urges to relapse, and they're just not going away.

I cry. Ellie drives. This is okay. It's okay. Except that it's not, and I haven't told my therapist anything about myself yet. My mother hasn't spoken to me in weeks, and my father sent a cat video on WhatsApp this morning. And Ellie’s knuckles are turning white from how hard she’s gripping the wheel, which makes my heart ache because I know she cares. It makes me want to tell her everything, but the words are stuck in my throat, and I can't seem to get them out.

We arrive at the apartment a couple of minutes later. Ellie doesn’t immediately open the doors, and I've calmed down enough to answer when she asks, “Baby? Are you feeling okay?”

I nod, looking away. The people that I see walking around look sad.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, though,” she says. I stay quiet, doubting it. Ellie nudges me with her elbow, looking for an answer. “Hey.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

Ellie pats me on the thigh before getting out of the car. I get out, too. I don't bother eating dinner that night; I just go straight to bed and fall asleep.

The next few days felt monotonous. I've fallen back into my sadness, the type that isn't bitter but sweet. It doesn't make me want to relapse. It makes me want to stay in bed more hours than I'd like, takes my appetite away, and leaves me feeling nothing but numbness.

I wake up, go to work, study, attend uni, come home, and sleep. The cycle repeats and repeats, and I'm so, so very tired.

Today, I took the day off. I knew I was too tired to do anything, so I planned to rot in bed. Ellie knocks on the door, but I don't answer. I hear the door creak open and the light from the living room creeping in.

"Hey," Ellie says, her voice coming from behind me. "Mind if I lay next to you?"

"It's fine," I say with a hoarse voice. I feel the bed sink at my side, and then Ellie is behind me, wrapping her arm around my torso and nuzzling her face into my neck, leaving a kiss right there. I feel cozy and comfortable. I don't know if this will last. I hope it does because it's a feeling I've never experienced before—someone comforting me? That has never happened.

"Do you want to talk about what's going on?" she asks. I stay quiet. "I care about you. I'm worried."

I do want to talk about it, but at the same time, I don't.

"I'm fine."

"You always say that… You haven't gotten out of bed since you came from work, and the frozen lasagna you were going to make for yourself last weekend has been in the fridge since then." She stays quiet for a second, her fingertips caressing my arm. "You're not doing fine, baby."

Millions of thoughts go through my head. Thoughts I don't say. I don't want her to leave; I don't want her to see how I feel.

"I'm trying, though." It's easy to say since Ellie isn't looking at my face directly. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I blink them away; I blink, blink, and blink again. Fast.

Ellie stays quiet, her breath tickling my neck. She kisses the back of my head again, her hand holding mine. I hold it to my chest. "I know. But you don't have to be alone in this."

That hits me like a truck. I wasn't expecting to be held by her, let alone her saying I don't have to be alone. A tear falls from my eye, landing on the pillow. I sniff, and Ellie holds me tighter, not saying anything. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with her free hand and kisses my temple.

"I'm sorry," I say, in a moment of pathetic weakness. She hugs me even closer.

"Hey, no. Don't apologize. C'mon, turn around."

I let go of her hand, turning around. Her left hand cups my face and she kisses my cheek, then my forehead, and then she kisses the tears that fall on my cheeks. When she pulls away, she gives me a small smile, "You're going to be okay."

She doesn't want you. She's your friend; she doesn't want you. She will fall in love with you, not your brain nor your scars, and when she finds out about the way you think, she'll leave.

I wake up on Ellie's chest, it feels good to be comforted, I've found. Her phone is on the nightstand, so I just reach it and look at the time. It's eight o'clock. I've fallen asleep for two hours. I try to make myself more comfortable on her chest, attempting not to wake her, but my movements fail and she stirs.

"Hey," she says, her voice still laced with sleep. "What time is it?"

"It's still night," I say, closing my eyes. "We slept for two hours.'

"Feeling better?" I feel comfortable enough to shake my head. "Do you want to talk about it? I told you, I'm worried. And don't bullshit me with the whole 'I'm fine' shit, yeah?"

I stay quiet as her thumb caresses my back, "Did I tell you why I'm going to therapy?" Ellie shakes her head. "Well—back home I had some… issues. Mental health stuff related. I kept going back to depressive episodes. And one day I just asked for help from my mom, because I—I just couldn't stop self harming."

"Baby," Ellie says, hugging me tighter and kissing the top of my head. "What happened? Did your mother react well?"

"Yeah. Surprisingly. I got help. Got better. Sometimes it comes back, and I still get urges sometimes, but I can control it. It isn't as bad as it was before. But lately, it's just—yeah."

"You don't do that anymore, do you?" She asks, worried.

"No," I shake my head. "Not anymore."

"And what about the urges, do you still get them?" I nod, slowly. Ellie plays with my hair. "And therapy? Is it helping?"

"I haven't told her anything, yet. I—I don't know, I can't talk about it."

"What if I go to the next session? If you're okay with that, of course. If you still don't feel comfortable we can look for another therapist or another way to get you help."

I hide my face in her chest when she says the last word. I don't know why I've been refusing to get help. I don't know why I don't like that word. I sigh as Ellie stops playing with my hair and begins rubbing my back.

"I think—I think I would like it if you go with me."

"Okay. Okay, then. I'll go." The room falls to silence again for a few seconds. I feel ashamed for telling her. "I'm sorry you have to go through this… I wish I could do more."

"You're doing more than enough," I assure her. It's my time to hug her tighter. "You’re the first person I’ve talked to about this."

"Yeah?" She seems surprised. "I'm glad you talked to me. I'm here for you if you need anything—I mean it. You just have to tell me, I will listen… You could've told me sooner."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize. I’m just saying, I'm here for you. I've been there for you, always. And… is there something I can do to help?"

"Just be there," I say. "That's enough."

"Mhm, I'll stay."

I think she wants you, a little voice in my head says. I think she loves you, and I don't think she'll ever leave.

Maybe I'll be okay, after all.

[not2beeaten]

I Made the Zero Day + Elephant boys into sims.

[Ignore my horrible sim making skills I haven’t opened this game in years]

[batcavescolony]

Have I mentioned how much i love ao3? So I'm currently watching a show and I like to look up fanfics but obviously I don't want to get spoiled so I just go to filters scroll down to 'date updated', look up the date the episode aired on, go 6 days ahead to the day before the next episode, and it filters out all the fics about episodes I haven't watched yet! It's great.

[sadpotatosad26]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sanji & Usopp (One Piece), Sanji/Usopp (One Piece) Characters: Usopp (One Piece), Sanji (One Piece) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harming Usopp, Usopp Need A Hug, and he gets it, worry sanji, Water 7 Arc (One Piece), Post-Water 7 Arc (One Piece), Minor Sanji/Usopp (One Piece) Series: Part 2 of “We love you Usopp” Summary:

Sanji was curious, Usopp loved to draw, it was one of his passion so of course he got supplies to do it; But the blonde cook noticed that he didn't have many pencils and even less any sharpener, that was odd…

Or; Sanji discovers the real reason Usopp doesn't use pencils

“Continuation” of The taste of Rain, Pain, and love

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 1: Bad Things Are Comin’

When a sudden death happens at the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, Stella Daniels is forced deeper into the world of her employer, John Dutton. It’s much further than her experience from just working with the horses and being an extra wrangler when needed. Now Stella, her brother Ryan, and her best friend Kayce; her employer’s youngest semi-estranged son, have to navigate finding their place within the ranch’s not-so-clean dealings and the challenges that come their way.

Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, character death, grief, panic, language because I mean let’s be honest we’ve all seen the show lol

Word count: 3,803ish?

Stella Daniels breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned backward on a fence in a round pen belonging to Grand Springs Ranch. She was lending a helping hand to her good friend Olivia. Olivia helped run the broodmare portion of her parent’s ranch, and this year the broodmares were giving both women a run for their money. There had been so many speed bumps this year.

Olivia sidled up beside her to join in the viewing of a new broodmare prospect. They wanted to see her movement, her temperament, and also talk to the current owner about her AQHA titles. The usual things they looked for in a good broodmare. Olivia and her parents were very strict with things being ethical and not just breeding to breed. Stella respected that.

The mare in question was a pretty little chestnut thing, spunky and only 6 years old. Stella enjoyed watching her graceful lope. The mare had a bit of an attitude, but that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She had been taught well when it came to horses and getting temperament under control. She had faith she would be able to have this girl right as rain in no time. She tapped Olivia’s arm and gave a nod of her approval, to which Olivia agreed.

Stella fixed her glasses and saw movement out of her peripheral. She looked over to see one of the full time hands rushing toward them with a concerned look on his face.

Olivia’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Tim, what’s wrong?”

“There was a phone call from the Yellowstone for Miss Stella.” Tim looked almost nervous.

“Was it Ryan?” Stella pushed herself away from leaning on the fence. “Is he okay?” Ryan would occasionally send a text, but always knew she might not have her phone. He only ever called the barn phone in an emergency when she was here.

“Something big happened. He said to tell you he’s fine, but they need you home right away.”

Her eyes glazed over as she unfocused on everything except her rising heartbeat. Her mouth dropped open as her breathing started to come out in shallow puffs. She didn’t feel when Olivia first grabbed her arm, but it was like she had been electrocuted the second she realized Olivia’s hand was there.

“Liv, I gotta go!” She bolted for the barn to grab her things.

Olivia responded, telling her to go, family comes first; her part of the job could be worked on at a later time, but Stella never heard those words as she ran as fast as her feet would take her.

She didn’t hear anything until she got back to the Yellowstone. As soon as her SUV tires hit the gravel of the ranch, Stella sped up to the main house. Seeing the flurry of activity happening there, she figured that would be the best place to start. Her SUV was barely in park before she hopped out and ran across the grass desperately searching for her brother. There were news vans, reporters, police, EMS, and livestock police all crowded around in the front yard.

It was at that moment that her hearing came back all at once. The chatter from every direction was disorienting. Her eyes were looking but not seeing. Every face was blending in with the next one. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, quicker with each passing second.

She pushed her glasses up while calling out, “Ryan!” Not caring who would look in her direction. “Ryan!!” She hollered out again, sounding more panicked than the first time. Multiple heads snapped in her direction. Lloyd spotted her through the mass of people and moved quickly to her. He grabbed her by the arm gently and guided her to the porch where it was a little more secluded. He knew he had to get her focus. If he didn’t, Stella would raze the whole ranch to ground looking for her brother.

“He’s finishing up something in the house, but he’ll be out soon. He’s okay.” He made sure to try and keep direct eye contact with Stella, trying to keep her glued to the porch. She continued to look around trying to peek at every face that walked by them. She had to physically see her brother to accept that he was alright.

“Stella, look at me!” Lloyd said sternly and shook her to grab her attention. “Your brother is alright. Come with me.”

She finally allowed herself to catch her breath. She trailed closely behind Lloyd, hot on his heels, to the large section of the porch by the front door. He had her sit in one of the chairs, and asked her to stay put. He wasn’t sure exactly how long Ryan would be, but he would be coming out the main door. Stella was in the perfect place to catch him the second he walked out. Lloyd knew Ryan would be glad to see his little sister.

With a numb expression she asked, “What the fuck happened, Lloyd?”

“Some of the herd moved onto tribal land.” He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how he was going to continue this explanation.

“Oh shit, no.” Stella’s shoulders dropped as she whispered.

“Well, both groups butted heads and here we are.” He wasn’t trying to be vague, but he also didn’t want to drop too much on her at once. Especially about Lee.

Stella knew that both groups didn’t always get along, but she never imagined it coming to something that required this much attention from police and news alike. She rubbed her fingertips on her palms trying to get feeling back. Ever since she left Grand Springs her hands had been numb.

Movement from the front door startled Stella into action. She hopped up from the chair and made her way quickly to the door, weaving through livestock police as she went. Kayce and Jamie came out of the house. Kayce, her best friend of 12 years, looked rough. When Stella saw the blood on his shirt, her heart nearly jumped from her chest.

“My God, Kayce!” She rushed over to him to try and get a better look. “Are you okay?” There was a mumbled, “‘m fine, Stell.” He grabbed her hands before she could touch his shirt. Knowing she would thank him later. He gave her hands a squeeze while taking a deep breath to ground himself. Almost as if he was using her as a tether.

Light brown eyes met darker brown. She finally saw the sadness that resided there. Her eyebrows scrunched together and she tilted her head to the left, and wordlessly asked what happened. His eyes dropped and his shoulders looked heavy. Stella’s breathing picked up again, worried by whatever change may be coming. She nodded to Kayce, knowing this was a conversation for another time.

“You’re brother should be right behind me. Go get him, and we’ll talk later.” He squeezed her hand again and let go. More people coming out of the house prompted Stella to give his arm a quick squeeze and move toward the door.

Her eyes locked on her brother, “Ryan!” She propelled herself forward and gripped him in a tight hug. Now that she could physically see that he was okay, her blood pressure started to return to normal. Ryan was her rock. She wouldn’t even dare to fathom the consequences of not having him around.

He squeezed her back and moved them off to the side. He held her tight. Primarily for her, but it also gave him solace because she was safe back here at the ranch.

“Let’s go down to the bunkhouse where it’s quiet. We gotta talk.” He needed to tell her about Lee.

Stella sat forward in the chair bracing herself on her knees. Her brother had just told her Lee was gone. She felt like she was going to vomit. Lee and herself hadn’t been as tight knit as she and Kayce, but she had known both of them since she was 14. He had taught her just as much about horses as Kayce. Hell, they partnered together to train the horses for the ranch. She was flabbergasted. Speechless. She struggled because that very well could have been her brother.

She took deep breaths to keep the nausea down, and placed a hand on her forehead. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and sat back swallowing the lump that was lodged in her throat. She felt guilty for even thinking that, but she also understood the look that Kayce had given her on the porch fully now.

There weren’t any tears being shed. Ryan was concerned, but then remembered that his little sister didn’t like to cry in front of people. Not even him. If she did, it was because she had no control anymore. He didn’t know how she dealt with human death. Animal death? He had seen her deal with it a thousand times over because of the ranch. The work on a ranch doesn’t stop unfortunately. But the untimely passing of a friend? He was worried about how this would go.

“Were you with them?” Stella cleared her throat.

Ryan bit his lip and nodded. “I was a few feet away, and then I got swept off to the side dealing with something else and Kayce was alone with his brother.”

“Oh my god, he was alone? That’s the second time that’s happened to him.”

Ryan knew she was talking about Kayce’s mother and how that whole situation went down. She felt horrible that Kayce had to face that by himself.

Stella knew she would probably cry later on when she was by herself, but she couldn’t even drum up a response to her brother. Other than the occasionally quiet whispered, ‘what the fuck.’ She could understand the disagreement about the herd, and knew things could get rash at times, but her mind was blown that it came to this kind of firing point.

It had been quiet for about five minutes with her staring at the wall where the sink was. “You still with me?”

Stella slowly moved her head to look at Ryan. “Hmm?” She said softly. The energy slowly drained out of her the longer she sat there. He came over and sat next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in sideways.

Ryan comforted her. “Stay with me Stellee.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting out a big breath, trying to pretend she was anywhere else but here.

It was quiet for a few moments. Ryan would occasionally rub Stella’s arm. Since he wasn’t sure how far her reaction to the loss would take her, he treaded lightly. He didn’t know if she would react now or later, and he definitely didn’t want to come up on her breaking her hand through a wall.

“I’ve gotta go find Kayce.” Stella started to move restlessly before she got up.

“Yeah, but don’t you think he would want space?”

“If I know anything, space is the last thing his mind needs. And I know he hasn’t been home yet, so he doesn’t have Monica here. I can’t just sit by, Ryan.”

Ryan sighed. His little sister could be one of the most endearing people. If someone had a problem, she refused to let them carry it alone. He was worried one day her back might break.

“I’m gonna go back up to the big house. He’s probably still there.”

Now that the activity had quieted down, Stella poked her head in through the front door. She ran into Beth sitting in the living room, looking very much like she needed to catch her breath. When Stella entered the room she looked up from her long gaze.

“Funny how everyone else employed here knocks, except you. Why is that?” Stella breathed out a sigh at the accusation from Beth. She knew Beth was just in defense mode and didn’t mean to spit fire at her. They got along for the most part.

“Beth… I haven’t knocked on this door since I was 15. I wanted to come check on everyone.”

“There’s nothing to be done except wait for the plan. You know that. You came here to check up on my baby brother, didn’t you?”

“Well, he is my best friend. And you and I both know that being alone is something your brother doesn’t need right now.”

“And you thought you would swoop in and be his savior, huh?

“Not a savior. Just a shoulder.” Stella was getting frustrated.

“Beth, leave her alone.” Kayce’s voice came from behind them. He came from the hallway toward the back of the main sitting room. He nodded toward the porch and Stella did a 180 to make her way around. He placed a hand at the small of her back as he directed her to keep moving. There was a small zip up her spine at the contact. Her back tensed.

He wanted to get them both out of the room before his sister could spit more grief. Stella shook her head and squeezed Beth’s shoulder quickly as they walked by and back out the front door.

Kayce sighed. “I’m sorry about her.”

“You should know by now you don’t have to apologize for your sister. I would have been worried if she hadn’t responded like that.” They shared a chuckle.

Stella seated herself on one of the chairs by the little table. Kayce made himself comfortable in the other. They both gazed out at the vast ranch. They zoned out and let the silence embrace them. Today was chaotic for both of them, in different ways, but tiring nonetheless.

“How the hell did a feud about some cattle that wandered through a broken fence produce this end result? Like, how did we get here Kayce?” Stella was very confused. She hadn’t been on the ranch when the arguing had started about the cattle, land, and who owed the livestock.

“I mean, I understand that it’s a very tender subject about land and all, but…,” she didn’t really know how to continue. Thinking about it made her brain hurt. She sighed.

“My head is spinning too.”

Stella whispered. “Is it selfish if I say I’m glad you’re still here?” Stella adjusted her glasses as she moved her eyes away from him. It was quiet as both of them contemplated her question. Her admission. In a way it was selfish, but he understood the sentiment she was trying to get at.

“I’m not really up to talking just yet, Stell. After I come back for the —,” he halted trying to figure out how to avoid saying the word funeral, finally ignoring the word all together. “We can talk then, okay?”

“I understand.” She pushed her glasses up. “If you or Monica need anything, please let me know and I’ll get it to you guys with lightning speed. Okay? Even if you need someone to take little man for the day or something.” He gave her a look that only the two of them seemed to understand. They stood and bear hugged like their lives depended on it. She knew it would be a few days before he would actually talk. Stella would wait as long as he needed her to.

Neither of them let go for a short minute. They knew that once they did, cursed reality would set in again. For this short span they felt like they were kids again without a worry in the world.

Stella murmured softly, “I’m so sorry this happened,” as she released him from the hug. He nodded, giving her one last glance before he made his way back inside to gather his things to go home.

"Men and brethren, let me freely speak unto you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried... " the Father's voice faded as Stella scanned the crowd of people that had come around for Lee’s service. Everyone from the ranch was there and accounted for amongst other people that knew the family. The only one missing was Kayce. Her eyebrows pulled together. She looked at Monica, and she gave Stella a quiet shrug. He couldn’t have been far. There’s also no way he would have missed his brother’s funeral. She tried to be nonchalant about looking around, but she made eye contact with Beth who gave her a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

Stella rolled her eyes slightly and kept looking. Not far off she saw a horse that just stood in place. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but from the looks of it, the horse was a mustang. In these particular hills of the ranch property, the most you would find would be a quarter horse if one got out of its designated pasture. Maybe an Appendix or two. No one, that she was aware of, had brought a horse with them today, however.

Just barely above the high grass up at the grave sites, she could see a dirty blond head move back and forth. There he was. She looked to Monica who nodded her permission and Stella silently exited the group. She knew that if anything, Lee would have wanted her to go over to his brother. Lee always joked that they were each other’s Huckleberry. Attached at the hip, and where one was the other was surely not far behind. Most certainly to “fuck some shit up, cause some chaos and leave” as Lee would have said.

Stella’s fond smile at the memory faded as she got closer and heard sniffling coming from Kayce. Her face softened and her heart bled for him. She sat down beside him. The horse paid her little attention, but snorted in acknowledgement and went back to grazing as she folded her legs beneath her. Kayce glanced at her from the side.

When he realized it was her, he turned slightly and made eye contact. Stella pulled her lips together in a small smile, and kept her eyes gentle. They simultaneously leaned toward each other, shoulders touching, as they looked forward. Stella reached over and rubbed his back.

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close sideways and rubbed his arm to offer any sort of comfort to him while they sat there. They both pretended that they were anywhere else, at any other event than his brother’s funeral. She couldn’t believe this had happened, and she felt helpless that she couldn’t change it or do anything to make the hurt less, other than what she was doing right now.

They both heard as the Father finished his sermon, but they remained seated. Even when Stella felt eyes on her back, she stayed. John surveyed the pair closely. That girl, well woman now, had been there through the thick of almost everything for his youngest son since she and her brother showed up on the ranch 12 years ago.

At first, John had been hesitant to have an extra child on the ranch. Especially with his new young wrangler being her parental figure. She turned out to be a great kid, who would pull her own weight and then some. He slowly started to come around to the idea when Kayce started to put up a fight for Stella and Ryan.

She also was the first to throw knuckles when anyone, or anything, came for his youngest. John would swear that she would throw herself in front of a bullet for Kayce. Hell, she threw herself in front of grizzly for him once. Evelyn would have liked her. John couldn’t even begin to think of ways to thank her for keeping Kayce grounded along with Monica’s help. He cleared his throat and came up beside the twosome.

“He's one hell of a horse.” They heard from Stella’s right as John seated himself next to the pair. Stella removed her arm from Kayce’s shoulders, but remained quiet. She wasn’t a part of this conversation.

Kayce sniffled at his dad’s words. “Yeah. Ain't got the breeding of your stud, but he has a heart.”

“I know. I saw.”

“He would have died for me. He almost did.”

John changed the subject. “You want to stay for supper? You can put him in the barn.”

Kayce sniffed loudly and stood. He carefully draped the lead rope over Stella’s lap and handed it to his father. “No. I brought him for you. You can put him in the barn.” She watched as he quickly left to catch up with his family.

“I can take care of him for you, sir.” Stella offered as they both stood.

John looked at her from behind his dark sunglasses and shook his head. “Thank you, Stella, but I’ll take this one up.” As he walked away with the horse, she pursed her lips to the side realizing she was alone. She looked back to the gravesite. She patted her legs trying to decide if she wanted to go back over. ‘By the time you’ve argued with yourself, you could’ve already done it.’ She rolled her eyes at herself and started walking over.

“Hey Lee. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” A little bird sang its song from high in a tree. Stella smiled sadly and fixed her glasses. She hoped it was Lee saying he was listening. She still hadn’t come to grips that he was gone.

“I’ll do what I can for the family, the ranch. To the best of my ability anyhow. Especially for Kayce. I know he was the favorite.” Stella forced herself to look at his place marker. “I guess you’ve left me no choice but to take over your spot as the lead for the horses. If your dad agrees to put me there.” It was a heavy decision, to choose to do nearly anything for the family. It could come with a hefty price tag, but the Dutton’s and the wranglers were all she and Ryan had.

She looked off to where everyone had gone and noticed Ryan was still waiting in the wings for her. “I should probably go catch up with everyone else, but I’ll be around again.” She brushed her skirt off and headed up to the big house on the hill. Everyone was invited for supper. She wasn’t about to turn down Gator’s food. Lee wouldn’t have wanted her to either.

After supper everyone had congregated outside to get some fresh air and talk amongst themselves. The wranglers had parted to one side and Stella stood next to her brother and Colby.

She could see John with Beth and Jamie. They stared off at the helicopter, speaking to each other quietly. Lloyd brought her attention back to the group when he asked her a question.

“I’m sorry, what Lloyd?”

“I asked if you were spendin’ the night, lil’ bit?” She yawned at the exact moment he asked.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I probably should. I think my overnight bag from Olivia’s is still in my car.”

Comments, thoughts, and commentary is welcome! Just please be gentle lol. 🤓

[thornsnvultures]

eddie munson x reader (pwp: platonic w/ potential)

cw: self harm, bruising, mental illness, hurt/comfort, talking about therapy

a/n: this fic talks about y/n having bruises in lots of varying colors because of their age. I know this isn't the case for some darkskinned poc. I'm not trying to exclude people out of spite/hate but I mostly wrote this for myself to process bad mental health stuff I'm going through. if you skip this, i totally understand as it's written with myself in mind and I'm white. I try to avoid any indicators of physical appearance in my fics so they can be read and enjoyed by anyone, but it was hard to avoid it with this one. putting this long winded warning here so no one's caught off guard. ok bye.

-----

Eddie's knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It wasn't that out of the ordinary, you weren't a very loud person to begin with, but you knew Eddie was coming over. The two of you made plans just last week, he called you the other day to check if they were still on. The grocery bag full of ingredients for tonight's dinner was in his hands, all bought from the list you gave him.

So it was strange that you didn't answer on the second, then third, knock. He called your name a few times, pressed his ear to the door listening for any sign of movement or call that you were coming. Nothing.

His gut was screaming that something was wrong. Maybe you were sleeping, had a long day at work and forgot to call him to cancel. It wasn't like you, but maybe...

Eddie fumbled with his keys, the bag of food dropped to the floor. He didn't know why he had so many fucking keys or where they all came from. Next time he goes the hardware store he's getting yours specially printed with a nice cover so he doesn't lose it in the ten others he's got jangling around with him. Finally, he finds yours and jams it in the door, his fingers shaking.

Sleeping, you're probably sleeping.

The bags of food are tossed on the counter along with his keys and he makes his way down the hall. Your roommate is gone for a few days to visit family so it's just you in the apartment, alone. Your door is closed but Eddie can hear music, one of your favorite songs. That's got to be it, you didn't hear him over the music.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. Of course you're fine, he's being silly.

"Hey, it's me," Eddie calls out. He knocks on the door as he opens it.

And the smile on his face falls.

You're crying. Sobbing. Eddie doesn't know if you heard him over the music, your tears, any of it. Or if you don't care. Because you're sitting on the floor and punching your leg. Your bare legs, both of which he's never seen before. He understands why now, your aversion to wearing anything but long pants, because they're covered in bruises. Mottled in all different shades of color, some old, some new. And you're giving yourself new ones.

Eddie doesn't think. He practically tackles you down to the floor, wrestling your hands up over your head. You're sobbing and still fighting him and you're way stronger than he thought you'd be but he can't let you do this.

"Stop it! Stop," he shouts at the same time you're shouting at him to let you go.

He's kneeling over you, stradling your waist but not putting any pressure on your body. Just holding your wrists so you stop.

Eddie's heart is hammering wildly in his chest. You stopped fighting, too tired from your kicking and screaming. Now you're just crying. Taking heaving, shuddering breaths that make your whole body shake. But you're tired.

"If I let you go will you do it again?"

You shake your head.

"Okay."

Eddie lets go of your wrists and moves off of you. You just lay there so Eddie does too.  He pulls your limp, shaking body into his chest and holds you. You wipe tears and snot into his shirt but he doesn't care.

"I'm sorry," you shakily whisper. "Sorry I ruined our dinner."

"Nothing's ruined. Nothing you could ever do would ruin it. Not even if you spit in my food."

"Gross," you reluctantly laugh under your breath.

Eddie kisses your head and holds you when you start crying again. His heart hurts. That you've been hiding this part of yourself away, dealing with it on your own for so long, it hurts. And he wishes he hadn't found out this way, but now, now he can help. Even if it's just holding you after, or letting you wipe snot on his shirt and spit in his food.

He tells you all this. Asks if there's anything he can do. He's your friend. Your best friend. He wants to do anything he can.

"Just be here. Just hold me."

The food Eddie bought sat out on the counter the whole time the two of you laid on your bedroom floor so you ordered take out instead. Eddie let you put on whatever movie you wanted, but you put on one you knew he liked too.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

You freeze, looking up at him from your mouthful of lo mein.

"Like...a therapist, a counselor," he clarifies, looking away. "Wayne made me go talk to this guy after...well, after I started living with him. I don't know, it helped. He got me into DnD actually."

You swallow down your mouthful of food. Eddie can feel your eyes on him. He's never told anyone that.

"No. I'm not seeing anyone."

Eddie looks at you with your feet folded up under you, sitting sideways on the other end of the couch.

"It might help...talking to someone. I can get a number for you to call," Eddie hesitates, "no pressure though."

"Yeah. No. It's- thank you."

It's quiet for a bit, but not uncomfortable. Just quiet. You've always been quiet.

"Oh man."

"What?" Eddie snaps his attention away from the movie. You look disappointed, holding his now empty container of shrimp fried rice. "Did you want some?"

"No," you sigh, "I forgot to spit in your food."

Eddie laughs the hardest he's laughed all day and tackles you into the couch, tickling your sides. You're laughing so hard, gasping for air, and Eddie would do anything to keep that smile on your face forever.

[codfanficedits]

Final Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley & Reader

Summary: You are Death.

Wordcount: 2710| Rating: M (18+ only!)

Warnings: MW3 SPOILERS

A/N: Different colours to identify dialogue better, my shit has been flopping again and my brain can't handle the lack of dopamine.

Part 3/4.

Simon Riley. You had been following the man ever since he was born. There had been times where he had been ready to leave this earth, only to be pulled back by Life on the last second.

It would be a lie if it wouldn’t make you question whether or not it would be ethical to keep certain people alive. But that wasn’t up to you to judge after all.

Even after he escaped the horror that was his childhood home, death seemed to follow Simon, his hand never steered clear from the blood that stained him.

But this time? This time it was different.

Simon couldn’t cope with the death of Gaz and Soap, leaving him a broken mess. But Simon was taught that feelings, emotions should be hidden inside, piling up until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

So Simon did what he knew best, copying the coping skill of his father, empty bottles piling up just like the feelings piled up inside of him. Whiskey replacing the companionship that his friends no longer could give them, the burning sensation of the liquid making him feel alive, a feeling he thought he didn’t need anymore, but he felt himself craving it, chasing it.

And of course people around him were worried, John tried to talk to him, John had seen this way too often before. Soldiers not being able to cope with the loss, turning to the poison that roamed this earth, alcohol, drugs and self-destruction in the from of women. And John had tried to stop it, tried to warn him, but Simon was a grown man, capable of making his own choices, no matter how destructive.

You knew you had promises Soap and Gaz that Simon wouldn’t drink himself to death, and with the amount of liquor he was pumping into his system, you almost got the feeling you had been lying.

But Simon would bounce back from the alcohol abuse, with the help of his captain that is.

It had been a day like any other, Simon would try to focus on his work, his mind already on the numbing temptation of the liquor, briefings, conversations, details, they would all go past him like a blur while he tried to deceive the people around him. And usually after a day of work, he would lock himself into his quarters, drinking until he forgot his fallen teammates.

“A word.” John’s voice is loud, a little too loud for Simon’s liking.

“About what?”

“You.”

“What is there about me?”

“Why did you join the army?”’

You watch, slightly amused at the low blow John just spat out.

“Don’t you fu-“

“Answer my fucking question, Simon. Why did you join the fucking army.”

And you can tell Simon is struggling to answer that question, hell he doesn’t want to answer that question, because that would mean he could no longer pretend he wasn’t following his fathers footsteps.

“I joined to escape home.”

“And why did you have to escape home?”

“Because my father was an abusive alcoholic.”

“Then tell me, Simon, why the fuck are you turning into your father?”

“Bullshit John.”

“Bullshit? You think you’re sleek, only bringing away the bottles in the early morning. Do you think we really don’t hear the clinking of the glass while you wander these halls? Do you really think no one can smell it on your breath?”

“You don’t get it.”

You had seen John often enough to recognize the subtle anger in his face, flaring nostrils, a slight raise of his brows, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t get it?”

“You have no idea how much their death affected me.”

“I have no idea because you shut yourself out and rather poison yourself.” John spat back at him.

“You have no idea what I have been through Captain, and I would strongly advice you stray away to this topic.”

“You’re right. I did not have your upbringing, and I do wish you dad had healed before he came your father, but you do not get to tell me about grief.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am affected too. I was the one who asked Soap to come with me to Makarov, I was the one who approved Gaz going on that mission. And I can’t let you drink yourself to death, Simon. I will not be responsible for your death too.”

Both men are silent, straying into territory they are not used too, at least not with each other. Both men had been told that their emotions were forbidden, that emotions should not be on display for others to see.

But you could see their hurt souls, their broken souls, needing the company of each other. John is the first to give in. Holding his arms open and Simon clings on for dear life.

“God fucking damnit boy, get your shit together, that is an order.”

“I forget then when I’m drunk enough.”

“I know. But forgetting them isn’t the way to go. You shouldn’t forget them, celebrate their life because they no longer can.”

“I will, Captain.”

“Good.” John let go off him, giving him a rough pat on his back. “Do you need anything from me, the military?”

“A little time off.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay all by yourself? I can get a therapist for you if you want.”

“I would like that.”

“Good. Now, get some rest, I’ll pull some strings to get you someone to talk to.”

“Thanks Cap, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

Something was off, something was different, and John couldn’t really put his finger on it, but decided to not press any further. He had nagged Simon long enough and it felt as if his point had come across  good enough.

Simon on the other hand, felt a calm feeling he hadn’t experienced before. A decision crossing his mind when he gripped his sink, tears streaming down his face when he recognized his father in the mirror. Simon knew he wouldn’t be strong to recover, he had become an alcoholic, just like his father.

“Fuck!” His fist slams the mirror, the second one this year, blood running down his arm while he takes in the freedom the pain gives him. His mind is only giving him one solution, the emotions, his grief, the craving to alcohol, they’re making it impossible to think straight.

Simons scribbles something down on a piece of paper. Before he takes a deep breath and looks around his room. John had been right, Simon thought it had alle been under control, but he was lying to himself, the half full bottles being the proof of that, but not anymore, not any longer.

He takes place in his own bathtub, a piece of glass gripped tightly in his right hand. You know what is about to happen and this is always your least favourite part.

He doesn’t drink himself to death.

Tears blur his vision when the sharp material pierces his skin, dragging down. He doesn’t even register the pain, all he can feel is the peace and quiet his mind gives him. So he does it again, and again, going deeper each time.

His head tilts back and he drops the shard of glass, causing it to shatter on the ground.

It stays silent, the only sound is his blood dripping on the floor of the bathtub. Life is nowhere to be seen, and you know this is his end. In a split second you make a decision.

The universe had been too unkind to Simon already, the least you could do was to make sure he didn’t have to die alone.

“Hello.”

“What the fuck are you? How the fuck did you get in?” His eyes snap open and his head snaps back to face you.

“I am Death.”

“Did I die already?”

“Not yet.”

“Than why the fuck are you here?”

“Because this will kill you, and I did not want you to die alone.”

“Well thanks for your concern but I don’t need your pity.”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

You chuckle softly. “I guided them too.”

His face softens. “How.. What.. What did they say?”

“Soap was pissed off, Gaz was worried he had let his mother down.”

“Sounds like them.”

“It is nearly your time, Simon.”

“Will the pain stop?”

“When you’re dead? Yes, yes the pain will stop.”

“I can’t wait to be pain free.”

“Tell me about your favourite memory?”

“Of what?”

“Anything you please.”

Simon has to think for a little while.

“My brother.” He eventually starts. “Had gotten a part time job, and he needed to give the money to our father, but he had hidden his first pay check. So when our father was passed out on the couch again, we snuck out.” A smile forms on his face.

“We bought a cake, one of those fancy ones with a lot of frosting. We ate it in the skatepark where we used to hangout a lot. I ate so much cake I couldn’t stand it for the longest time afterwards. But for the time that it took for us to eat that cake, we were happy, not a care in the world, just loads of sugar and each other.”

He hadn’t noticed yet, but the shackles of life had fallen off during his story, setting him free of his mortal pain.

“I miss him.”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

“How’s the pain, Simon?”

“Which pa- Oh fuck.”

You watch as he gets up from the bathtub, looking at his body, he died smiling, his eyes closed, almost looking happy.

“You deserved better.”

“I did.” He agrees.

Simon clears his throat. “So what now? You take me to hell and I’ll burn for eternity?”

“Why would you burn in hell?”

“I am a soldier, I killed people. People who deserved it, and people who might not have deserved it.”

“And that is equal to eternal suffering?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Don’t you think you have suffered enough?”

His face turns pale, the words slowly sinking in while he recalls his whole life.

“So there is no hell for me?” his voice is a soft whisper.

“There is no hell for you.”

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck I was so scared for hell, that had been the only thing holding me back from killing myself earlier.”

“So” He looks at his body again. “What would be next?”

“Once you are ready, I’ll take you to the afterlife.”

“How do I know I’ll be ready?”

“You’ll feel it.”

“I don’t feel it yet.”

“Then you can stay with me.”

He nods, liking the answers that you’ve given him. “I have some questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Can I ask them?”

 “Of course. I’ll answer them if I have the answer.”

“How do you know which soul to reap?”

“I just know.”

“Okay, and now you are here with me, does that mean no one else dies on the world.”

“If that was the case a lot of deaths would’ve been postponed.” You answer. “I can split myself into fragments, therefor I am able to reap multiple souls.”

“How did you, you know, get into this profession?”

“I was created to be Death. It is all I have ever known, and it is all I will ever know.”

“Hm.” His eyes shift to his body again.

“What is the afterlife, and who will be there?”

“Everyone will be there, every soul goes to the afterlife, and you’ll reconnect with the souls that love you.”

Simon has to swallow a lump in his throat, he wants to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Simon?” John’s ruff voice sounds.

“Can I answer him?”

“Afraid not.”

“Simon!” the knocking returns. “I swear to God.” John mutters, as he opens the door to Simon’s room. “If you have been drinking again.”

John looks around the room, and you and Simon watch him do so. John’s gaze fall on the piece of paper, his face turning pale. “God fucking damnit.” The paper falls on the ground, slowly twirling in the air before it gently settles down.

‘this isn’t your fault.’ Even though you knew what would be on the letter your eyes automatically shift to the words on the white paper.

Johns open the door to Simon’s bathroom, and he just stand in the door opening, taking in the dead body of his teammate. “God damn it, Simon.” He repeats. “You could’ve talked to me you know.”

John moves over to the body, taking in the smile on Simon’s face. “At least you were happy.” John mutters.

His hands reach for Simon’s dog tags, taking one of the chain to add to his own. John’s fingertips rest on Simon’s cheek for a brief moment. “I hope death treats you better than life.”

Simon looks at you. “You do.”

“Thank you.”

“Will the Captain be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I feel bad, for leaving him behind, for doing this.”

“He’ll understand, and when his time will come too, I’ll tell him about you.”

“Thank you.”

Simon looks at his feet. “I don’t know if you can do this, but I want to visit Johnny.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go to the Scottish Highlands, to the place where we set his ashes free.”

You hold out your hand to him. “I’ll take you there.”

Simon’s eyes light up as he takes your hand into his, and before he can blink twice, you’ve transported the both of you to the exact same place.

“I forgot how beautiful it was here.” Simon says, as he sits down on the exact same spot where Johnny had sat down, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that their souls are happy together in another universe.

You go to sit down next to him. “It is beautiful here.”

The both of you sit in silence, you know Simon wants to ask you something, a question burning within him ever since John had interrupted, but you’re not filling anything in, letting Simon come to you when he is ready.

“You mentioned something about souls and love.” Simon eventually says.

“I did.”

“Who will be waiting for me?”

A faint hint of a smile can be seen on your face.

“More than you’ll expect.”

“Tommy?”

You just nod and Simon let out a shaky breath.

“It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ve missed him terribly. Who else?”

“Tommy, Beth, Joseph, your mother. Roach. Gaz, Soap. They will all be there.”

“Will they be mad for what I did?”

“They love you too much to be mad.”

“I’ve known more love death, than I’ve done alive.”

You turn to look at him. “I know, and I am sorry.”

“Is there anything I had done to deserve such a life?”

You want to wince, flinch at his words, but it is a fair question.

“No. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair when it gives somebody a course of life. You were a child, Simon. What happened to you, should’ve never happened, not to you, not to anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re brave.” You add. “You’ve survived something you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place.”

“How do you cope with it?” Simon asks.

“With what?”

“The unfairness?”

You let out a sigh. “It is hard. Sometimes I have to guide innocent souls to the afterlife, souls I would have wished had a long and sweet life. And sometimes I see souls who I felt deserved death a long time ago. Unfortunately I cannot change the course of the universe, nor can I change the free will of humans.”

“Do you feel remorse?”

“No. I am no mortal, nor do I possess mortal feelings. I do however acknowledge the unfairness of certain situations.”

“I see. It is hard for me to imagine.”

“I get that.”

“Hey Death?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“Do you promise that they will be waiting for me in the afterlife?”

“I promise.”

Simon holds out his hand to you. “Then please, let me see them again.”

[echoedcrosshairs]

The Portrait ~ Boba x F Reader

Plot: You, a daughter of a former bounty captured by Boba Fett, are asked to paint a portrait of the new Daimyo although you despise him you can't help notice the growing tension. 🖤Enemies to Lovers 🖤

Warnings: second person narration, no y/n, suggestive sexual content, age gap (reader is mid-twenties, Boba is 41 canonically), lots of petnames (Little one & Old Man), praise kink, one dude being a creep but nothing bad happens; protective Boba moment~> violence, Enemies to lover & sort of slow burn and eventual smut. This is a build up chapter.

Word Count: 6.7k

Masterlist Part Two

🔞no minors allowed🔞

Yes I know I need to go through all of my stories because small typos.

Boba sat in a darkest corner booth of the cantina waiting for his prospect to arrive but something was bugging him about her name it sounded familiar but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it. He had arrived early to avoid being noticed by the crowds who came in during rush hour as Daimyo every knew his face and who he was but he wasn’t in the mood to be bowed at. He had his shawl covering his armor and his helmet tucked in beside him, knowing it’s shine would make him stand out. He brought his drink to his lips letting his eyes wandered to one of the dancers, although she was gorgeous but not gorgeous enough to distracted him with her curves and elegance to notice the prospect walking over. He blinked admiring the features in your face and the way your hips swayed as you walked towards him. He knew the confidence of female hunter when he saw it, alluring yet on the prowl. He let his eyes travel along the entire noting all of the empty concealed pockets.

"Do you two need a minute?" you laughed sitting down looking between him and the dancer, "I would hate to come between a hunter and his prey. She is rather pretty"

"I admire. Nothing more," he said curtly not liking the fact you noticed what he tried to hide, "I am retired," he added, “and to old to be chasing such beautiful creatures.”

"Once a hunter always a hunter. All you traded was one type of bounty for another just with less stakes but that's semantics," you said dismissing it.

Boba studied you carefully curious to what would compel you to so bold and brazen with him, "I take it you are not found of how I run this town?" he asked simply not letting any emotion or interest pace his course rough.

"No your rule is not one with an iron fist nor disappearing villagers in the dead of night or making examples out of petty things. I just do not care for you," you said pulling out your dust covered sketch book flipping the page of him taking away your father and your father's imprisonment in stone, "Getting to the subject. All supplies must be paid for up front, the entire can change once I started however you’re still wearing the same thing so I don’t think that matters and point me in the direction of the nearest lodging. I can begin as soon as the supplies arrive," you said closing the sketch book and returning it to your bag. Your eyes caught swift movement of hands of the person bringing both of you drinks, quickly pulling out the blaster out of your art bag dispatching one fatal shot you caught the tray with the drinks and dumped them both into a flower vase watching them quickly wilt. That’s what I thought, I need this try again later. You sat back down putting the blaster away, "What?" said noticing him staring at you.

"You loathe me yet saved my life, interesting" he said studying the expression on your face, "with such tenacity and efficiency."

"I may have talents outside of painting. I would hate to lose such an important commission before it was complete."

"Indeed," he said finally blinking looking at the corpse being dragged away, "stay at the palace, plenty of food and rooms to choose from," he offered.

"I'll take whatever room is furtherest from you," you grinned pulled the pad with the out the list of supplies and upgrades handing it to him. His leather glove brushing against your hand taking it, it sent a cold shiver up your arm like you just touch death.

"Consider it yours, I'll send someone to pick up all of these premiums," he said in attempt to ignore the fact brushing up against your finger set a jolt of something down him. Fear? Anticipation? She's a daughter of a former bounty and I just invited danger into my house. He stuck out the pad, Fennec taking it from whatever spot she was hiding.

"I should have most of these by sunrise, one or two might take a few extra hours," she said nodding walking off with the pad.

"I know my way to the palace," you said standing up eyeing the women he was looking at earlier, "Enjoy yourself for a change," you let out a small harsh laugh, "Try not to get killed until the commission is completed."

You walked away pretending not to be in a hurry about your heart was racing and your hands were clammy just being around him. He was a dangerous man with a temper for disintegration and being ruthless with how audacious and brash you were talking to him wondered if he had the mind to disintegrate you. What was I thinking? He's a client at this moment, nothing more. Your mind wandered back to that night when he took your father and showed him off to you in carbonite. Your fist balled but you kept walking, you had half the mind just to get off this sand ball but the other half wanted the money and the recognition for something other than the fine marksman the ire had turn you into too. Now he was an aging man, ‘retired’ and you didn't know if it would be worth it if he wasn’t in the game. Yet the muscles in his arms and the coldness in his face suggested he was still ever bit the predator... one who had a disgustingly charming gravel voice and it set a shiver down your spine.

"Are you sure this isn't a conflict of interest, little one?" You heard Boba's voice emerge next to you.

"Being in the same persec as you is a conflict of interest but this is business as you well understand," you couldn't help but notice the annoyance seeping out over his company, although the sound of his voice was better then silence. You didn't bother look at him as you kept walking, "Also don't call me that, I'm not little nor a child," you added.

"Why take the commission?" He asked finally letting his curiosity get the best of him.

"It's you I have to thank for my talents whether it's through a paintbrush or a blaster." you said harshly still not bothering to look at him.

"You could just take the money and go-"

"We both know there's no honor in that, although I don’t think I would ever consider you honorable," your tempter starting getting the best of you, you finally stopped and stared at the T visor helmet forever engrained into your memory, "I am here because I have to prove to myself you are nothing then a man to not some assassin droid in the shadows without a thought or care."

You watched him stand still for a moment before putting his hands clasp behind his back, "You speak your mind without thought of the repercussions or hesitation, I respect that," he said starting to walk again, "I even admire it."

Your lip twitched but you followed after him in silence. You kept nonchalantly wiping your hands on your pants, feeling like an angry fool living in the past but you liked the praise from him sending goose bumps down you.!What the hell is wrong with me? It was a silent trek to the palace after that, thankful you didn't continue making a fool of yourself publicly speaking to him like that in view of those still up at this hour. The doors of the palace swung up, you walked in not bothering to wait for an invitation which was custom on Tatooine.

"Still want the furthest room or do you want to face that fear too," you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Just point me to an available room and show me the location."

Boba lead you to a long hall way more adorned with fineries then the others. He pointed to the door on the left, "Yours," he pointed to the door on the right, "Mine. This way," he said turning back heading towards the throne room.

You scowled following after him realizing where he was taking you, "Of course it's the throne, how pretentious," you mumbled sarcastically taking out the sketch pad.

"Do you have a better idea?" Boba said stopping mid step turning to you, "you are the artist after all, where would you choose in my position."

"Each previous Daimyo has had his done on the throne using it as display of power and fear. If I wanted to prove my rule was different, I would do mine somewhere to show who I am underneath."

He nodded, "Have you ever seen the Tusken huts?"

You were taken back by the question, "Not up close, no."

"Wish to take the Rancor for a run or a speeder?" he asked.

"Rancor," you said stepping up to his obvious challenge to test your nerves further, "It's been a while since I've been on one."

"Let's see if he's awake. So you've ridden one before?" He asked calmly but intrigued.

"Once or twice," you said opting to give the least amount of information knowing he was digging.

Boba smiled knowing it could not be seen, "The riding boots your wearing covered with your pants suggest other wise," he said done playing coy that he didn't notice the little things, "one of your many talents I assume?"

"Perhaps," you trying to keep the irritation out of your voice glancing down at your foot wear that you didn't bother to change when you were done, "or perhaps I wear them because their comfortable and made to take a beating. Perfect for function, comfort and a sleek appearance."

"I'm sure they are, little one," he chuckled watching your face force smoothness on it. He couldn't deny he was interested in you in more ways then one, you were beautiful, complexed and smart but perhaps just as dangerous and unpredictable as he was at that age regretting putting your room so close to his if you had the urge in the dead of the night to unleash vengeance upon him, "How about a bargain?" he asked.

"What are you proposing?" you asked crossing your arms following him into the throne room looking down into the pit.

"Every day you get to ask me one personal question until the portrait is completed."

"What do you get out of it?" You asked because it sounded like you were getting the better end of the deal.

"Hopefully not feed to my rancor in the middle of the night," he said with laugh, the sound made you blink. It was warm and kind, rough like his voice but it reminded you of a shot of whiskey after a long day. He watched your face falter for a second after his laughter, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you enjoy rubbing my fathers fate in my face?" You said boldly, looking down at the sleeping rancor.

"No however I hoped it would prevent you from going down the same path."

"What path would that be?" You asked tartly looking back up at him feeling his eyes linger on you.

"One without the need to follow in his shoes"

You studied him as he studied you, "Funny," you mused.

"Indeed," Boba said realizing it was what set you on this path. He lightly tapping the bars to see if the Rancor would wake but it's soft snores he was out for the evening, "A speeder it is."

"Did you ever find him?" He ask heading towards the main doors.

"What was left of him to find."

"I'm sorry."

Those two words hit a nerve but also shocked you. Your mouth fell agape but you shut it not knowing what to say to the statement, the man who turned your life on it's head... apologizing? You followed him outside to the one speeder realizing you were going to have to share. You wandered if you both were thinking the same thing, how easy it would be to toss each other off.

"I'll ride in the front," he said giving you the upper hand waiting to see what you would do.

"I'm personally holding you accountable if I get hurt due to your driving, old man," you jested trying to hide the anxiousness of climbing on behind him having to hold his waist.

"Then you better hold on, little one. I'm not that old."

"Are you sure about-" you shut your mouth holding him tighter as he took off full speed towards the Dune Sea. You felt the chiseled muscle under his clothing, red subconsciously warmth spreading across your face. It made you sick that you had a reaction to him, the lingering smell of leather, blaster smoke and sweat didn't help. You tighten your jaw reminding yourself of the monster you were clinging too as he enjoyed riding the waves of the sand.

"Having fun?" He chuckled feeling your cheek burning into his back and your arms tighten around him as he took another bigger sand dune. It took a lot of self restraint not to move his hand to yours and tease you but knew you’d probably shoot him if he did.

"Extremely," you said sarcastically thanking the maker when he stopped so you could let go and hop off.

Boba watched you quickly take out your pad to engulfed in your work to notice the approaching Tusken's. The Tusken's recognized him, signing his name. He nodded to them in greeting and preceded to explain why they were out this late, that he would send them food as payment for the disturbance.

"They want to see," Boba said pointing at them.

His voice pulled you out of the composition of art to notice the raiders standing next to him. You gulped, you were not fan of the Tusken's for their violent nature towards outsiders and it didn’t help that the Daimyo was very comfortable around them. You carefully walked towards them showing them the sketch of the hut. They made a noise and you looked to Boba raising an eyebrow.

"Their impressed."

"Thank you," you said nodding your head, they handed you the pad back allowing you to walk back to the spot and continued your art.

"Tribe?" the Tusken signed looking between the two of you

"No, Business."

The Tusken nodded signal for him and his companions to leave. Boba walked over looking of your shoulder watching the hunt come together with the rough sketch of the Tusken in the foreground.

"Done?" He asked watching you look at the pad then up then back down.

"Yes."

"Let's get back to the palace, it's getting late and creatures should be waking up," he said climbing back into the speeder feeing your arms go around his waist again but this time he didn't feel your hands as sweaty against him.

When you both arrived at the palace, Fennec was waiting different sizes canvas. Boba picked a medium sized one, modest yet large enough to be noticed. Fennec kept her eyes on you the whole time.

"Do you want me to have guards outside?" she whispered wondering if you could be trusted.

"Just one discreetly at the top of the hall if it put your mind at ease."

She gave a small nod, "What you think of her?" she asked quietly watching you pull out your sketch pad looking over your work.

Boba just slightly turned his head not to make it obvious, "One of a kind."

Fennec rolled her eyes, "Friend or foe?" she corrected.

"Both," he admitted, "Good Night," he said to Fennec raising his voice back up from a whisper.

You cocked your head to see him heading back inside, you followed after him sketching out a simple speedy portrait of his face. You caught up to him and knocked on his helmet, he turned catching your wrist pulling it away.

"Helmet off," you said pulling your wrist back.

"So bossy, little one."

"So deaf, take it off old man," you said bringing your pencil back to the pad waiting,

He took it off, you examined the lines in his face quickly sketching them out. You were to distracted with the lines to notice his brown eyes boring into you. You were raptured in artist inspiration staring at him, your hands moving seamlessly across the paper noting every healed scar and various shades of brown to gold in his eyes. You finally looked down red creeping back into your face as you sketched his shoulders and the top of his armor.

He looked down at the paper stunned, "May I?" he asked holding out his hand. You stared at what was probably your best rough sketch but handed it to him. "It's absolutely marvelous," he said examining it closing looking at ever scar and remembering the cause to each one, "Your marvelous," he unintentionally whispered.

"I know," you said grabbing the sketch back and walking towards the hall with the bedrooms, flushed and angry. You noticed the bags that you tucked away at the Cantina you were going to go back to retrieve were sitting the end of the bed waiting. You groaned tossing your art bag on the bed and setting the pad on a big wooden ornate vanity. You unpacked the essential clothing you needed and various toiletries. Your head was swimming and knew you couldn't sleep, you grabbed your toilets stepping into the hall. Your face flicked up when you heard footsteps, a single guard walking a catwalk above.

"Where's the bathroom?" You asked watching him walk to the end of the hall and point at a door. He spoke a language you didn't understand, "Thank you! I think,” you called.

You opened the door, staring at Boba in a towel around his waist water still trickling down his pecs and abs. You quickly pulled the door shut, "That didn't just happen."

Your hand quickly shot up to your eyes when you heard the door immediately open "I'm sorry he doesn't speak basic," you said trying to defend yourself.

"Unfortunately it did. Dank Farrik! Next time I'm going to shoot you in the knee cap! I could have still been in the crinking shower!" He called up the guard who was laughing suddenly stilled. He noticed your hand over your eyes, "I'm not that bad to look at," he laughed, "I was just leaving," he said stepping around you, "I'll have them come in and fix the other one tomorrow promptly."

You uncovered your eyes for a moment watching his muscular back as he headed towards his room before quickly getting into the bathroom and shutting the door realizing there wasn't a lock on it. I seriously can't believe that happened. You turned the water up to match how hot your face was. You discarded your clothing, neatly putting them on the what looked to be hand carved precious stone counter. You ran your hand across it, still cool. Maker that had to cost which ever Daimyo a fortune. You shook your head and stepped into the shower hoping the heat would wash away the embarrassment. After spending a fair amount of time scolding yourself clearing your head you stepped out and noticed a couple of credits with a note on your clothing.

"It didn't happen -Fett."

You stared at the forty thousand credits your mouth fell open. I need the money but no way I can accept this much, I'll just slip part of it into his room or something. You quickly got dressed and peaked your head out the door to see if he was there, you breathed out in relief. You groaned the moment you got to your room noticing the small fruit assortment on your bed. I don't know if I'm more embarrassed or he is. You moved the fruit to the vanity and crawled into bed, you laid awake into the night before finally prying yourself up deciding fresh air might help you get situated with your temporary reality. You tucked your blaster in your waist band and found your way to a balcony overlooking the city.

"You too?" you heard Boba's voice behind you.

"Yeah. Are any of the cantinas still open this late?"

"One, you want to go?" he asked.

"I need a drink... or five if I'm going to be sleeping in the room across from you," you admitted.

"Likewise."

Both of you quietly walked into your rooms and changed. You dawned a form fitting dress with a side holster and boots with hidden knife pockets. You opened the door and found him waiting with holding his helmet.

He did his best to keep a straight face over the entire, "Expecting company?" He said pointy looking at the blaster as an excuse to look at your figure before looking back up at you.

"Always except the unexpected, that's how you stay alive in this line a work," you said as you started walking.

"Which is our problem," he said following after you.

"Another bargain perhaps?"

"You don't trust me and I don't trust you, I could simply move into lodging like I wanted too or we could drag the other bed into the others room so we can at least hear it coming," your throat dried up, “because I can’t think of a reason why I would want to trust you. You can only out run your past so long before it catches up.”

"What ever your comfort with, little one-" Boba stopped looking at your dress and then speedier.

"Dank Farrik," you mumbled motioning him to get on, hiking up your dress an indecent amount throwing your leg over it, "Why can't they just make flattering dresses with pants?" mumbled uncomfortably exposed to him.

"You now have plenty enough to get some tailored to your design," he suggested.

"I can't accept all of them for something so little, not even for this predicament," you said, "Got a problem or something that my skills can be used for?"

"I'm sure I can think of something."

He let you get off the speeder first to adjust your dress before getting off himself. You both kept each other arms lengths apart. Heat rose to your face thinking about how close his back had been between your legs. You did not and would not like this man. Eyes on the prize, finish this commission and get the creds then get hell away from this monster. No Boba Fett is a man, this commission is to prove that. He's not the boogie man, at least not any more.

He opened a door letting you go in first, the cantina nearly empty except for a few stragglers. He watched them eye you then back at him with a nod of respect. You walked up to the bar hoping he wasn't going to follow you. You noticed him hovering the door and you smirked.

You slide in the stool seat, "Whiskey, double," you told the bar droid, who dropped a shot glass in front of you and poured it. You slammed it back and tapped for another.

"I'd hate to see you on a bad day," Boba laughed joining her after eyeing everyone again to see if any one was going to make a move. Given most of the men in here were older then him he was pretty confident that no one going to given she also came in here with the Daimyo.

"This?" You said lifting the third shot, "is barely the appetizer for today."

"The same, sir?" The droid asked him.

"Yes."

Both of you sat in silence, while Boba caught up on the shots. He watched you down a couple more, the tipsiness finally started to show. The warm glow of alcohol spread across your face, wondering if you always looked just as a beautiful regardless.

"Might want to slow down, little one," he said eyeing her twitch trying to focus, "You don't look like it would be a fair fight." He watched her pull out a blaster and bull-eye a painting on the wall. He tossed some credits to the droid as an apology, "How did you get so good?" He asked wondering if the circumstances were different he if he could convince you to stay.

"Practicing praying one day I would get a chance to kill you and everyone else associated with my father," you admitted, "I looked for you in every shadow praying and our paths would cross.. then you fell into the Sarlacc a few orbitals ago. I realized if I could not kill you... I could kill the idea of you and prove you don't have to have Fett running in your veins to be good." You felt the few horrified gawking stares at the disrespect and contempt laced words coming out of your mouth. The whiskey had loosened your lips a little further then you intended, "That that counts as your one personal question of the day."

"I do also get one personal question?" He asked taking his last shot knowing he was going to have to drive both of you back.

"It's only fair," you said sliding the shot glass back to the droid, "done." You said cutting yourself off knowing your mouth was only going to get worse. "I may have had to many." You admitted.

You stared into Boba's eyes, counting the shades but the slight double vision made it difficult, "five or six" you muttered pulling your eyes away, "color shades in your eyes. Can't tell right now."

"You're drunk," he laughed, "let's go home, little one."

"Stop calling me that, old man."

Boba scooped you up and put you over his arm like a nap sack, "That's enough out of you." He tried setting you down realizing you were asleep. He carefully set you in his lap holding you with a vice grip as he drove one handed back to the palace. He saw Fennec doing her patrol and shook his head carrying you inside and setting you on his bed. He looked at you debating if he wanted to have Fennec come in and change you but doubted she'd be there right when you woke up to explain. He carefully pulled off the blaster and set it besides you. He grabbed a bantha hide and curled up on his armoire couch, looking at you more time wondering the type of person you were under all of that hurt.

You felt the sun shining in your eyes, Wait my room is opposite of the sun, you took in your surroundings the various artwork on the walls and target practice posters. Fett’s room? You looked over and saw the closet still open with several flight suits. Your head was pounding but you got up feeling for your blaster finding it laying next to you. At least I’m still in my dress. You scurried back to your room munching down some of the fruit arrangement and black melon which helped. You opted for pants discarding all of the dresses back into your bags, Never again. You tapped on the refresher door when there was no reply you opened the door and quickly did your business. Leaving the refresher you found Fennec standing outside your bedroom door.

“Good morning,” you offered opening the door letting her in.

“All of the supplies are in a work room for you, along with food, one hall over with the blue door.”

“Thank you,” you said still trying to dry your hair, “You guys wouldn’t happen to have a shooting range or something?” You asked noticing the rifle slung on her back.

“Two halls over down the stairs behind the orange door.”

“Thank you again,” you said putting the towel around your shoulders.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No. I don’t know why either of you would need me for anything but if I’m not in this room or the work room, you’ll probably find me in the range.”

She nodded quietly backing out of the room, Friend or Foe? rung through her head. The exchange had been minimal but she didn’t see a gundark waiting to strike which alarmed her further. I’m a good judge of character, but I still can’t answer that question.

Fennec found Boba sitting on the throne, “How was your patrol?”

“A couple hooligans needed a stern talking too, that’s all.”

“She’s awake. She’s been informed the supplies have arrived and where her work room is, inquiring if we hand a range and I told her where to find it.”

“Good.”

“Is something on your mind Boba?” Fennec said noticing the short answers.

“Thinking about something she said. Wondering if my past has caught to me and if this is my undoing.”

“I can get more guards-”

“That won’t stop someone on our level. She no longer seems to want revenge, old man,” he said shaking his head “I want to know what she really wants with the commission.”

“Have you tried asking?” she suggested half heartedly.

“No but that would be my personal question of the day,” he muttered getting up to head to the work room, “summon me when our guest arrive.”

Fennec arched an eyebrow but nodded. You had various sketch pads out using them to sketch quick ideas how the portrait should look using various compositions with shadow and foreground and background ideas along with one or two the rancor was in too.

“Come see what you think” you asked hearing the door open, you looked back to see you were correct that it was him.

“That one.”

“Consider it yours.” You smirked throwing the sentence back at him, tearing the other ones out and set them to the side to dispose of later, “Is there something I can help you with?” you noticing him not leaving.

“What do you have so much riding on this commission?” He asked.

“Pride.”

“That isn’t much an answer.”

“Does it count as your personal question of the day?”

“No.”

“Than that’s the answer you’re going to have to live with,” you said eying him taking a seat.

You don’t know how long it had been until Fennec stuck her head in, “Daiymo, they have arrived.”

Boba excused himself to leave you to your art. The next few days where like that. Quiet. Every day his chair got a little closer until he was sitting next to you. Time to time he would stop to ask you questions about art, your favorite things to draw and other various things about you biding time for you to ask him question. It was a nice little routine as much as you despised him it became to comfortable. You eventually took to sleeping during day and working on the piece during the night as an excuse not to have to see him. You missed the company but every morning Fennec joined you at the range. It was small talk mostly but it helped dull the loneliness. Fennec left earlier this morning to go take care of an errand, leaving you alone in this big palace. Given some of the guards didn’t speak beside your only reprieve was the animal in the pit. You found your way to the Rancor kneeling before it, offering it a large slab of meat staying in routine of the past couple days. You smiled as the Rancor finally accepted your status as below him.

“Where is she? She’s not in her room or painting,” you heard Boba say concerned, stifling your laughter.

“She hasn’t left the palace-” Fennec said looking down hearing you.

“Someone’s losing their touch, old man. You know I ride yet you didn’t look down?” You huffed disappointment, finally getting to scratch the Rancor’s cheek, “I don’t recommend putting leash on me however, I bite.”

“I can’t even pet him,” Fennec said staring, “and I live here,” she muttered.

“Rancor respond to a social hierarchy and as I have no interest in staying, I made sure he knew he was the boss of me. Unlike me, Fennec you scream predator which is why he doesn’t respond to you. You have to be both hunter and prey,” you said standing up and wiping the dirt off your butt, “being a one sided blade only gets you so far, it’s those who are two that survive.”

Boba looked at you noticing how seamless the Mandalorian philosophy rolled off your tongue with such an easy explanation. Boba eyes trailed after you pinning. He was use to every woman throwing themselves at him having his selection of whatever fascinated him that evening. Even as Daimyo women fanned over his power and wealth having to let down several mothers trying to sell off their daughters to him.

“Well, I got my painting in for the evening so I had to wait for that to dry. I’m going to go the Cantina before going to bed,” you stared at the paint you missed on your foreheads and elbows, “after I apparently shower. Again,” you groaned walking off grumbling about paint and how it always ends up in weird places.

“You like her don’t you?” Fennec asked smiling watching his eyes trail after her, “Old man,” she said wiggling her eyebrows, “You’ve killed people for less.”

“She… reminds me of another time. I think I’ll accompany her discreetly. No need to follow.”

You shower daring to wear a flowing dresses with two discreet slide slits that overlapped to hide the thigh holsters, “At least I can ride a speeder in this.” You found Boba standing outside the door waiting. His molten gazing temporarily holding you in place, “I figured I’d give you a ride.”

“I am quite capable of getting there on my own,” you said inserting your independence staring back at him.

“You are… quiet the capable woman,” he said noting the heighten chemistry today, “but I need the speeder today.”

You looked at this features feeling sick about how in depth you studied every scar, crease, shape of his nose and the depths of his skin, “Fine, let’s go,” you said looking away first, “but I’m driving, can’t risk crashing in this dress,” you said doing the best to ignore the tension that has been slowly building since you met him and the playful banter he allowed you to get away with. Just awhile longer.

He waved his arm forward, “Lead the way.”

“You haven’t asked your question today,” you asked glancing him.

“I’m sure it will come to me before you go to bed. You haven’t either.”

“I’ll let you know when I have one,” you said tossing your legs over the speeder realizing this was the worse idea you ever had but you didn’t want to have to explain changing your mind. You felt him climb on, you took a quick silent intake of air when you felt his cod piece nuzzled up to your ass. He gently wrapped his arms around you placing each hand on your hip. You bit your lip and turned on the speeder taking it near full speed to the bustling cantina. Boba was like the sun of Tatooine pressing against your back and his gloves pressing you where felt like heaven wishing you could take them for your self. Getting off the speedier for a split second you could feel the cod piece rub against your ass. I need some company because that isn’t happening.

“Take this,” he said tossing you a device, “Call me when your ready to get picked up,” although I don’t intend to let you be here alone. Boba took the speeder around giving it the appearance that he left before letting himself inside through the side door. His eyes spotting you at the counter with a shot in hand. You took himself to an empty booth a distance away tucking away his helmet and covering his armor to blend in. The droid brought him over a drink when he saw a man slide into the stool next to you. Boba blinked because the man was about his age. Anger starting boiling over when he saw him put hand on your leg watching you light up and smile at him.

“What is a goddess like you doing in a temple like this at this hour?” the man asked.

You smiled at the comment, “Hopefully enjoying some company for a bit,” you dared, watching him put his hand on your leg.

“I don’t mind keeping you company,” he said ordering to drinks.

He’s no Boba Fett, but he’s still cute to look at. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking such thing. Both of you chatted the conversation coming easy, there was no playing coy or calculated responses it made you miss having company because Fennec and Boba weren’t quiet conversationalist. You felt eyes at the back of your neck, you scowled for a second realizing it was probably Fennec keeping an eye on you or someone under here.

“What is it?” He asked concerned.

“Oh it’s nothing, I lost my train of thought.”

Boba watched every action his jaw setting tighter and tighter. He watched as the man leaned in kissed her. Boba’s gripping on the shot glass caused it to break. Your head turned again and you saw broken glass but not the person sitting in the shadows. Just a coincidence. Right as you started to lean back in you saw him pulling his hand away from your drink and a whipcord shoot out dragging him to the dark booth.

“Bantha Fodder,” you heard the growl from a familiar gravel sounding man, watching him step out in the shadows.

“Caraya’s Soul Fett! For kriff’s sake,” your blood ran cold for a moment staring at the helmet the man wired on the ground before taking out the blaster and shooting the man, “I get it he was going to drug me, but did you really have to stalk me? I could have handled it on my way,” you said putting the blaster away and getting in his face. You stuck your finger on his chest and gave him a small push, “I don’t need to be babysat let alone by you of all people.”

Boba looked down shot him again watching him disintegrate into dust, “You were saying?”

“I guess we’re even now,” you huffed pulling your finger off him watching retract the wire and putting his arms in front him. “I’m going to a different cantina, this time don’t follow me.”

You tossed a couple creds down on the table and leaving hearing his foot steps behind you and the heat from his gaze boring into the back of your back. You whirled around to find him standing there with his hands still in front him.

“I said don’t follow me,” you watched him talk a few steps towards you standing face to face, face to helmet.

“I am the Daimyo, I go where I want.”

“That is exactly why I don’t want you here! No one will talk to me or even look at me when your around. You know what it’s like to sit in silence alone for hours! I hate it.”

“Why don’t you talk to me?” he taking off his helmet, stepping forward pinning you in place with his gaze.

You saw the dilation in his eyes and his uneven breathing, “That’s why.” Feeling heat rush through you and your legs stared feeling like jello under his gaze. You could felt the heat go to your head, your mind emptying but conflicted if you want to kiss him or kiss him your knuckles. You knew your eyes had the same hazy expression thinking about when you found him in the towel, the water and muscle. You weakly stepped back ripping your eyes off of him, dizzily turning around trying to your legs under you. “This is business,” you said finally getting them moving, “Get a concubine or something,” you snipped, “isn’t that what Daimyo’s do.”

“I don’t want one” you heard him whisper.

“I don’t want you too either,” you gritted out not hearing foot steps behind you.

[sleepy-wyvern]

Mint Chocolate Chip Pleasure

Steve Harrington x curvy!fem!Reader One Shot

SMUT +18 ONLY MINORS DNI

You are newly dating Steve and decide to pick him up from his closing shift early to keep him company since Robin is out. You just can’t keep your hands off Steve and he gets a brilliant idea involving ice cream. No use of y/n

Tags: food play (ice cream), cold play (not the band lol), m-f oral, fingering, p in v, cream pie fetish (light breeding?)

Pet names: baby (reader to Steve)

Inspired by a blurb by @taintedcigs my favouritteeeeee writer ;w; (I promise I'm mainly an Eddie fan at heart)

Have a great weekend my lovely reader <3

The mint chocolate chip ice cream was cool and sweet as you let it melt on your tongue. You had gone to meet your boyfriend, Steve Harrington, just before he closed up at Scoops Ahoy. Robin had been out today, so you came by a little early to keep him company. Now most of the customers had fled already and other stores were locking up.

You sat on the counter while he stood there in his adorable captain outfit. Ahoy! his hat read, the cutesy demeanor clashed with his masculine appearance in an endearing way. He was just doing his normal closing duties, locking the register and pulling the security gate across. Something about the way he looked with his moles and hazel eyes drove you crazy.

“What did you wanna do tonight?” You asked taking a spoonful of ice cream, kicking your legs gently as you sat on the counter. You sat in front of the frosted glass window behind the register so you could admire him.

You arrived an entire hour early, before the customers left you sat in a booth and watched him work which drove you crazy. The subtle movement of his hands and fingers as he washed the counter, the way his eyes grazed over to you while talking to a customer and of course the way the ice cream dribbled over his gloved hands. He stole glances at you as he worked, with winks and smirks that made you squirm.

Back to the present, he turned to face you, placing his hands on your waist, his peach lips moving as he spoke “whatever you want to do.”

He leaned forward and you tilted your head down until your lips met in a sweet, loving kiss before he continued with a sly tone “movie, cuddles…”

You giggle at him, looking down with a glow of desire in your eyes. You had been dating Steve for about a month now, and things had just started to heat up between you.

“Let me get changed first,” he trailed his hand along your arm as he walked behind the swinging door into the back room, leaving you with loving tingles. It was as if you could feel the electric pull between you, crying as he walked away.

You couldn't help but flutter your eyes behind you, catching only a glimpse of his abs as he changed shirts.

If someone in high school had told you you’d be dating Steve Harrington you’d have laughed in their face. You couldn’t have been less interested in a jock fuckboy. You had still felt that way, even at the party you had met him at while he flirted with you, before he really changed his ways. You couldn’t have been more uninterested. Yet he followed you around at school, trying with flowers, love letters, and chocolate. The man was head over heels for you, still is.

At first you hated to admit you were wrong about him, but you watched as he defied his asshole friends and showed you what unconditional loyalty was. He had abandoned everything to show you what a real, good human he wanted to be even improving his grades and finding a crappy job to better himself. Fuckboy jock no more.

You thought back to the first time you had sex, just a few days ago. Loving embrace on his bed, clumsy and awkward as first times with a new partner can be. The movie playing had been long forgotten. You both got the hang of each other pretty quickly that night, every scar, mole and curve. You had been inseparable since, even itching for him while he was supposed to be working. Impatience bit away at you when an idea popped into your head.

“So I’ve been thinking…” your voice trails off as you twirl your hair between your fingers nervously. You jump down from the counter, turning to face the back room with your spoon on your tongue.

“Hmmm?” His voice hummed as he opened the door, now in his casual long sleeve and jeans. He looked down at you attentively, eyes beaming. He always did that, making sure you had his full attention even if he was occupied, listening to everything you had to say. You admired it and tried your best not to abuse the privilege. The man had a loyalty ‘til death.

You smile walking up and wrapping your arms around his neck. He follows suit, bringing his hands to your waist.

“You think anyone’s ever had sex in the back of an ice cream shop?” You flash him a wicked grin, feeling him harden against you as his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Evil idea,” he whispered looking down at you with mischievous hazel eyes “definitely no one in this store…” he trails off as you run a hand up and under his shirt, feeling his stomach.

“I think that means we should break it in, don’t you?” You smirk at him as he crawls his fingers under the fabric of your blouse. You loved the way his large hands caressed your delicate skin.

“God, you’re perfect” he broke off the sentence with a deep kiss, pulling you back into the room, the red door swinging shut behind you both.

He lifts you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, he sets you on a table top against the wall. At that moment you were both glad he had been working out extra as he leaned into you, pressing the bulge in his pants against your skirt. His breath was unsteady and you knew he ached for your clothes off.

He planted steamy kisses up your neck, moving to your mouth while his fingers were busy unbuttoning your shirt to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. His tongue delved into your mouth, meeting with yours in a loving embrace.

“Wait a minute” he whispers as he pulls back. He jogs into the other room and you wonder what scheme he was coming up with this time. Your eyes widen as you see the bowl of mint ice cream and his evil grin.

Quickly you were reunited as he grabbed at your waist, wanting nothing less than all of you. He kissed your breasts lovingly, pushing the lacy bra aside.

“What’s the ice cream for?” You say with a heavy breath.

His large hand cupped your breast as a perfect fit, making you glad you were curvy.

“My best idea ever,” he whispered taking some of the mint chocolate chip ice cream into his mouth. Quickly he moves his lips to your nipple and you instantly let out a moan as the cold liquid hits your skin.

“Steve!” you gasp, bringing your hands to his head, running your fingers through his gorgeous hair. You took in the amazing scent that is him, a sweet spicy musk.

He kissed your nipple with gentle sucking, making sure to lick up any extra ice cream that dribbled down your breast.

He moved to your stomach, grabbing your sides lovingly getting a handful of your curves. He licks his cold tongue all the way up your stomach to your belly button. You felt yourself starting to get more and more wet, a begging sensation.

As if he could read your mind, Steve bent down and hauled your panties down to your ankles.

“Oh God,” you whisper knowing what his plan was. He grasped your hips, taking the spoon out of the ice cream. You look at the utensil in fear and wonder.

Looking up at you to watch every facial expression, he pressed the cold spoon against your clit. Instinctively your back arches as you gasp, filled with cold pleasure.

Steve went for another scoop of ice cream, this time putting it in his mouth, looking deep into your eyes as he does to ask are you ready?

You nod, unsure but filled with lust.

He moved down to between your legs, moving the fabric of your pleated skirt aside. He pressed his cold lips against your folds, you tried to squirm but his hands had a tight hold on your thighs, keeping you anchored with his body.

Parting his lips his even colder tongue rubs up against your clit in a new form of pleasure, spikes of cold rush into you. You were impressed he already knew the exact way to your clit.

“Oh yes,” you moan, encouraging him to lick faster in the sweet motion you loved.

You feel yourself starting to climb the cold mountain of pleasure. He takes his fingers, dipping them in the bowl and bringing them to your entrance and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. His large fingers filled you up nicely as he pumped in a curling motion.

“Steve, baby,” you whisper, feeling yourself climbing “your cock, please,” your emphasis making sparks run through him.

He quickly fumbles with his jeans, unzipping the fly and pulling all the fabric down just enough so his cock and balls are exposed for you. As if he couldn’t handle not being in you any longer, he guides himself to your entrance slowly sliding between your legs. You could tell he was holding back from instantly ramming into you, but didn’t want to hurt you.

“How does this feel?” His voice was raspy as he restrained himself.

You nod, gulping in air “good, good, further” you whisper.

He slides further into you making you moan with tight pressure that never felt so good. Your entrance was numb with cold but his cock hot and throbbing for you. Your heartbeat in your ear drums, aching for him to fill you up with his cock.

“Harder” you demand as he thrusts, you wanted him so bad and it felt so good to finally have him inside you again, where he belonged in your tight cunt.

Items fell off the table you were sitting on but you didn’t care. You wanted him, all of him, and now. You craved that cold sticky ecstasy and wanted to share it with him. Quickly you feel yourself begin to climb once again as Steve grunts, sweating.

“Steve,” You moan his name and his lips part. He tried to answer but couldn’t find the breath to.

“I’m about to-“ your voice spikes as your orgasm does, clenching your walls tightly around his cock making him gasp. Cold pleasure takes over your brain as you sigh a wonderful moan.

“Please Steve,” you whimper “I wanna feel your hot cum inside me.”

That was enough to send him over the edge, spilling his orgasm deep inside of you. The over stimulation would have your legs bucking if he didn’t hold you there while his cock twitched his last drops of cum.

You untangle your fingers from his hair, both of you breathing heavy in unison. You bring your hands to his chest, and feel his heart pound through the fabric of his shirt, making you smile, finding some solace as he pulls out of you, spilling fluids over your thigh.

“Uh, n-napkins,” you whisper and he nods.

He looks carefully into your eyes as he reaches for them “are you okay…?” He asks to make sure. He always does, you admire.

"I am, but my ice cream is melted now" you pouted slightly, quickly turning into a weak smile, still limp and tired.

Steve smiled back at you with a soft laugh, the one you learned to love oh so much.

"Don't worry, there will be plenty more where that came from"

----

💙💙💙💙

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[megamindsecretlair]

The Secret Lamont Files

Do not copy or repost my work. Reblogs are encouraged. Do not use my work to train AI. 18+ only. Minors do not interact. Warning: contains multiple uses of n-word.

Lamont x Black!reader Fics

When It Feels Right - use of n-word

[nehswritesstuffs]

Double-Date from Hell

Y’all ever think of something so hilarious that you HAVE to write it, and then it just spirals out of control? Yeah, this is it.

8941 words; I’ve seen versions of this general joke going around and it’s still pretty funny in my brain so please just humor me; I guess it’s a Modern AU w/No Devil Fruits, but Brook is still a skeleton and Minks and Fish-men exist… somehow…? idk; SO MANY PEOPLE ARE ALIVE IN THIS AU THAT SHOULDN’T BE but you know what this is my story too damn bad I mean it’s already set in a quasi-Midwest metro; this took me so long to write because I kept cracking the fck up and I’m sure you’ll be able to tell where

Double-Date from Hell; Law has a new girlfriend. Cora-san’s got a hot date. Nami’s shagging a doctor. Things might be easier if Bell-mère had mentioned to her daughters she’s actually bi before she reconnected with an old flame. [modern!AU, LawNa, Bellazón]

Shuffling into the kitchen, Law blearily went into the fridge and began to poke around almost absentmindedly, hunger the only reason as to why he was currently existing on the mortal plane. What had supposed to be a twelve-hour shift in Logue Town General’s emergency room—as a favor, no less!—had turned into a twenty thanks to the perfect storm of call-offs and reckless pieces of bullshit trying to copy a social media trend. It reminded him of why he never wanted to stay down in Emergency full-time—fuck… doing clinicals there had been bad enough…

“Oh, there’s the sleepy-head!” Law jumped at the sudden confirmation that his father was in the room as well. He took a container filled with leftover noodles and popped it in the microwave oven with a bit more aggression than was necessary. “Rough night?”

“I remember when social media was used to share pictures of cats with poorly-spelled captions and complain about the accuracy of the fantasy book-to-movie pipeline, not to show off doing handstands in dangerous places and getting high off lip balm.” He glanced at his father to see he was dressed rather nice—that was a risk, considering how clumsy the older man was—though most things were better than his current pajama-pants-no-shirt-tousled-bedhead-at-four-in-the-afternoon look. “Cora-san, you know what happens when you wear a tie.”

“I know, I know, but I need to look nice tonight. What do you think?”

“That you look like a man about to turn forty who can’t so much as wear a tie without catching it on something every five minutes.”

“Well, yeah, but the shirt’s nice, right?”

An extremely pale pink with a red heart pattern; the tie was black, though his trousers were white.

“It’s… you.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” The microwave oven beeped at Law and he took the container out to stir. “Probably won’t be back until late, if I’m back at all tonight, so don’t worry if I’m not in.”

Law stopped mid-stir and stared at Cora. “Why would you both be alright, but also not come home tonight?”

“What, you can’t tell?! Your old man’s got a hot date!”

The silence that fell over the kitchen was simply unbearable. Law did not currently have the reserve mana to process that the grinning goofball he referred to as his foster father—foster roommate, on particularly irritating days—had anything even close to a potential sexual encounter lined up. He put the noodles back in the microwave oven and turned it on again.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” he grumbled. “You know I don’t care what you do—we’re both adults now.”

“Oh, come on… you aren’t even the least bit happy for me?”

“I can’t legally be happy until I get at least six cups of coffee and these noodles in me, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine, fine; spoilsport.” Cora sat at the table and pouted, watching his son put together some coffee. He knew he was tired when he brought a mug of it over, as well as the noodles still in the container he heated them up in. “It’s not like I’m an old man—can’t I take inspiration from the fact my son got himself a cute girlfriend?”

“You’ve never met her, so there’s nothing to get inspired from,” Law replied dully. He twirled some of the long pasta on his fork and scowled. “No, this is not an offer for you to meet her either. I want to make sure of this one before that happens.”

“You make it sound like I’m embarrassing.”

“You picked me up from school in clown makeup.”

“It wasn’t that bad…”

“Multiple times.”

“It kept things interesting.”

“Kids recovering from near-terminal illness don’t exactly enjoy being interesting.”

“The assholes that were scared of clowns never bothered you after that.”

“Okay, that I’ll give you.” Law shoved more pasta in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’ll go out tonight too—bound to be something going on.”

“There you go,” Cora beamed. “Here we are: a couple of young stallions, ready to make the night theirs!”

“Never again say those words in that order again, by all that is good in this world.”

“Spoilsport,” Cora scowled. A devilish grin then flashed across his face. “We should double-date!”

That too was a resounding, firm no.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was the generally-accepted consensus that there was no party like a Straw Hat party.

They weren’t all rowdy affairs that got the cops called at two in the morning—they reserved those for when the on-duty officers were ones likely to just turn the music down and bring their own drinks—but it was always the collection of people who were there that boggled Law’s mind. He had only started attending such shindigs recently after a weird series of events led to him pulling the charismatic teen out of the bay and helping make sure he was still alive. Luffy had declared them friends and that he now had an obligation to hang out, which would have been a one-and-done thing if it wasn’t for the people he collected in the nearly-rural house hidden amongst trees and actual property.

The East Blue kendo and archery champions? A world-class chef? A teenaged medical prodigy? The preeminent Void Century historian turning academia on its head? One of the most sought-after mechanical engineers in the world who also moonlighted in architecture? A living rock music legend? The man that kept literally all the trains in the region running smoothly? That didn’t even get into the kid’s brothers, or people outside of his innermost circle…

…and it certainly didn’t get into Nami.

He had originally begun talking to the redhead after observing her at that first party he attended. She was very level-headed—especially compared to Luffy despite that not meaning much—and knew precisely the situation they had going. It was the modern equivalent of the Enlightenment salon, where people got together and exchanged ideas and made changes happen. It was a counterculture hotbed with significantly fewer hard drugs and way more bellyflop competitions between people who couldn’t swim in the backyard’s in-ground pool. It was the next generation figuring shit out, getting ready to usher in a new age. Except, not only did the weather-and-surveying whiz keep everything running, it was very easy to say that she was the brains of the entire operation, making Luffy’s natural charm work for something. The next thing he knew they were chatting amiably, then kissing, and—after a considerable blackout—woke up very naked in bed with her the next morning.

It was a little awkward as they put everything together after that. They both thought the other was older than they really were (he thought her only a couple years younger than him instead of the actual six, and she thought he was well into his thirties (to be fair, he did say he was an actual surgeon while flirting)), and there was the wolf whistles that came out of some of the other Straw Hats as they went down to breakfast, but they settled into something… comfortable after that. The “crew” generally accepted him and he found their antics… tolerable, he guessed, especially considering what putting up with them meant for his love life…

“Oi! Witch! We need you to stop sucking geriatric face for two minutes and rein in Luffy!”

Nami groaned into Law’s mouth in frustration before breaking the kiss to glare at Zoro from across the large, open-concept living room that thankfully only contained the main Straw Hats crew aside from the man beneath her. Law knew to not remove his hands from her waist and rear, else she get pressured into something more involved. “What happened to someone saying he could handle him?”

All she got in response was a one-eyed glare.

“If she’s not back in two minutes like you said, Roronoa-ya, I will make you regret that age comment,” Law warned, voice dripping in sarcasm. Zoro flipped him his middle finger, which he returned.

“Boys, behave,” Nami sighed as she left the room. Law took it as his opportunity to see if there was any food available yet, shuffling over to the kitchen island where Sanji was working. A mug of coffee was already waiting for him as he sat down and watched the blond at work.

“Thanks,” he muttered, drinking the coffee gratefully.

“Just keep her happy,” Sanji replied. He and Law were in a tenuous sort of agreement, both men recognizing they were from the same Blue from the moment they met. Neither of them talked about it much, but it was clear that they were both in the East because it was not the North, and that was all they needed.

“If not, then you know it won’t be from lack of effort on my end.”

“True. Oh, Nami-swan told me the other day you don’t eat bread. Is it a gluten thing, or…?”

“Nah—just don’t like it. I physically can eat it, but just haven’t wanted to for a while now.”

“Not since home?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, good, because I remember you eating breaded things the last few times you were over, but I have a special coating I can use if it’s a gluten issue.”

“Nope—just a preference.” Law sipped his coffee and watched the other man work, his hands nimble as he prepped and cooked. It reminded him of himself at his own craft, in a way, mesmerizing him until he felt a pair of arms warp around his midsection from behind. “Luffy tamed?”

“For the time being,” Nami murmured in his ear. “He’s going to be a handful next week when his brothers are over.”

“Not entirely sure how you do it,” he admitted. “Then again, I don’t know how any of you do it.”

“Luff just has that magnetism, you know?” Sanji chuckled. “When we’re all together, it’s because he knows we need to be in order to move forward. It’s why we’ve even got old-timers with us, as you know.”

“Nami, your friends are childish.”

“People wonder why I don’t date boys,” she replied. “That would just set both parties up for disappointment.”

“How true your words are, Nami-swan,” Sanji crooned. “We are all but mere amateurs compared to your beauty and grace. The fact you decide to honor us with your presence is more than we deserve.”

Fuck… to be that idiotically horny again. Law tried to remember the last time he said anything as stupid as the heart-eyed cook and, to be honest, couldn’t remember anything of the like. Seas… was he really that old…? No, he decided… just… busy during those years. He would take busy… as though busy was having an impact on him now…

“Sanji-kun,” Nami said sweetly, “I’m going to bring Torao upstairs for a little discussion before dinner, if that’s alright with you.”

“As you wish, Nami-swa~a~n,” the blond swooned. He blew her a kiss as she winked and pulled Law onto his feet.

This place was so fucking weird.

Heading up the stairs, Law silently followed Nami as she led him through the house he was already strikingly familiar with. They slipped into her room and she locked the door behind them. Finally—peace and quiet.

“Don’t you think you were a little rough on Blackleg-ya?” he asked as she unbuttoned his shirt. “I only meant it as a joke…”

“Don’t you worry about Sanji-kun,” she hummed, pressing kisses along his neck and collarbone as her fingers went over his toned abdomen. She guided him down to his knees before sitting on the edge of the mattress. With his hat long-forgotten in the living room, she was able to gently card her fingers through his fluffy hair as he turned his attention to her legs. He gently massaged her calves with his expert hands, wandering up her thighs. He went under the hem of her skirt and his eyebrows rose at what he discovered.

“Nothing…?” he smirked. “Naughty.” He lifted her leg to hook her knee on his shoulder before slowly tracing a line of his own kisses down her inner thigh and towards her hot, wet core. Hiking her skirt a bit higher, she let her other leg fall a bit more to the side, opening up for him. He lapped at her experimentally, smiling smugly at the noise she made.

“Fuck me good, Law-kun,” she ordered. “Make him hear me scream.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was quarter past four in the morning before Law actually left the house at 1000 Sunny Road, dragging his ass into his car and wishing it was quieter as he pulled away. The only consolations to his pre-dawn walk of shame was that he slipped out when all the other Straw Hats sans Nami were asleep and that he could still taste his girlfriend the entire drive back. She had seen him out after some additional, varied rounds in her bedroom, kissing him through the open car window.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” she had smirked. Fuck… she had him on a leash and they both knew it. Her taste had almost faded by the time he pulled into the driveway at his dad’s. He killed the engine and leaned back against the seat—a few hours of sleep and he could be back into something of a normal rhythm for when he went on day shifts the following week. It was all he could do to haul himself out the car and into the house, blaming his exhaustion on the twenty hour ER shift from hell messing with him and not his girlfriend fucking his brains out.

As Law walked through the dimly-lit house, he heard a snore come from the living room. He took a peek and saw Cora-san laying on the floor again, having passed out after some sort of fall. Again. Law hefted the other man onto his shoulder and helped him up the stairs to the main bedroom, where he deposited him on the mattress with little fanfare.

Wait a second… were those bite marks…? He looked closer at the bit of Cora-san’s chest that was exposed—buttons undone while his tie hung loose around his neck—and sure as shit, there were bite marks and smeared lipstick on both his chest and neck. It was a burnt-orange, which was definitely not a color that was in the house, lending credence to the “hot date” theory as much as Law shuddered at the thought.

He left a container of salve on the nightstand and made sure the other man was at least fully on the bed before going to sleep himself—with any luck, he wouldn’t have to hear a thing about the date and they continue on with their lives in peace. The less he could think about his father and sex, the better things were going to be.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So… this old man you’re fucking… he at least cute in some weird geriatric way?”

“Ugh, what has Usopp been telling you?” Nami groaned. Her sister Nojiko chuckled at her from across the table, drinking her tea smugly. One of her rare mornings home and she was already being grilled. It was too early for this shit. “I’m not fucking an old man. He is in his twenties, thank you.”

“Turning thirty next month, is he?”

“He is twenty-six, for your information. He just looks a little rough because he’s got tattoos and is already a surgeon. Med school, clinical rotations, and residency are all vampires.”

“Sounds fishy to me,” Nojiko frowned. “I can’t be worrying after both you and Bell-mère now.”

“Bell-mère is a lesbian who just started reconnecting with an old flame from her Marine days,” Nami reasoned. “The circumstances are completely different.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sis,” Nojiko teased. “I still have on great confidence that he’s older than dirt, and that’s despite the fact you hang out with a man so old he’s a skeleton.”

“I am going to kill Usopp!”

“It wasn’t Usopp…”

“Who the fuck are you talking to behind my back?!”

It was then that their adoptive mother shuffled into the room, still half-asleep from the looks of things.

“I was woken by the sound of mockery; show me the object of ridicule,” Bell-mère grunted. She looked at her daughters and knew instantly what was going on. “We calling out the Old Man Fucker for what she is?”

“BELL-MÈRE!”

“Honey, if you’re planning on becoming a young widow, then at least make sure he’s loaded first,” Bell-mère said, unfazed by her youngest’s ire. She poked her head in the refrigerator and frowned. “Nojiko, sweetie, did you get more milk?”

“Haven’t been to the store yet,” her elder daughter said idly. “Will take care of it on my way back from work.”

“Since we’re currently in the habit of wanting to know about each other’s love lives,” Nami growled through grit teeth, “how’s Cora? That was your date’s name from when you went out the other night, eh?”

“That tongue still knows its way around a clit, let me tell you,” Bell-mère grinned devilishly. Both her daughters grew pale at the admission and immediately excused themselves from the table, neither in the mood for the conversation to go from zero to a hundred in less than a sentence.

Fine—ask about details, then run away at the details. Bell-mère chomped on dry cereal and wondered how she got two prudes for daughters.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Please don’t embarrass me more than they already do,” Law warned. He had his three best friends piled into his sensible, bright yellow crossover—Polar Tang—in the middle of making the huge mistake of driving them to the Straw Hats’ lair on a Saturday morning. They were already on the freeway, headed from the city towards the outer suburbs.

“We get it, we get it: you’re in it for the tight-ass pussy,” Shachi scoffed from the back seat. Penguin hit his shoulder in jest.

“If he was in it for just pussy, he wouldn’t be bringing us to the weirdo, sus-as-fuck party house in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere he goes to get said pussy in,” the other backseat gremlin said, tone rather matter-of-fact. “We’re a nurse and a couple of techs—how would we be embarrassing to a surgeon?”

“By talking about pussy the entire time,” Bepo stated flatly. He looked at Law and saw his grip on the steering wheel was unusually clenched. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No… I just need to remember this conversation for the next time I get asked why those two don’t just bite the bullet and get full nursing degrees instead of being the most overqualified nursing techs in the East Blue.”

“This,” Shachi said, pointing at himself with the first two fingers on both hands, “being able to sign off on patient care-related shit, would be dangerous and you know it.”

“It’s best for everyone involved that we stay Bepo’s gofers, because that makes us available as your gofers, and if we suddenly have to worry about shit like responsibilities, then where would you be?”

“Able to have competence on all my shifts?” Law snarked.

While tuning out the indignant protests in the back seat, Law turned off the freeway and headed towards Foosha Township, where Sunny Road was located. It was generally a tranquil road, with clusters of houses now and then to breakup wooded areas and the occasional farm. The car was thankfully quiet as he turned down a wooded drive, with Penguin breaking the silence as the conspicuously large house came into view.

“Law? Is this Straw Hat kid, like, loaded?”

“I don’t ask, so you don’t ask,” Law sighed. He parked the car on the front lawn next to Franky’s turquoise muscle car and turned to fully glare at the hooligans in the backseat. “Strawhat-ya’s not fully legit, but I don’t think he’s technically breaking any laws, and the cops here like him for some reason, so don’t fuck it up.”

“I thought you said the kid’s nineteen,” Penguin frowned. “How are you not wholly-legit at nineteen?!”

“Like I said: don’t ask.” Law then unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the Tang, getting some cloth shopping bags and his backpack from the trunk before heading around to the back of the house. It was just Luffy and his brothers there, all three splashing about in the shallow end of the pool while wearing arm floaties and inner tubes.

“TORAO!” Luffy squealed in delight. He jumped out of the pool and ran towards the surgeon—floatation devices and all—who got a sopping wet hug whether he liked it or not. “I was hoping that you’d come over today! Ace and Sabo are here! And Auncle Iva’s coming later! Grunkle Rayleigh can’t though because Grauntie Shakky made him promise something, and…”

“Strawhat-ya, I want you to meet the friends I was telling you about,” Law said, turning so that Luffy could get a good look at them. “That’s Penguin and Shachi, they’re nursing techs on my floor, and Bepo there’s one of the floor and hospital’s best charge nurses. We’ve known each other for ages.”

“Any friend of Torao’s a friend of mine!” Luffy grinned. He wrapped the two techs in a noodly hug, making them gurgle. “Oh! Yeah! Ace! Sabo! Say hi to Torao and his friends!”

“Luff, you’re going to kill them with affection,” Ace smirked.

“Yeah,” Sabo agreed with a laugh. “I don’t think we have enough space to bury more bodies in the backyard.”

“Please tell me that was a joke,” Shachi squeaked.

Law opted to not respond to that and instead left Penguin and Shachi in Luffy’s clutches while he and Bepo brought the bags in. Sanji was already in the kitchen prepping, while Usopp, Franky, and Brook played a racing game on the television.

“Did you get the goods?” the chef asked, pointing at Law with a knife. Law put one of the bags down and pulled out a bag of white powder covered in Wanolese script, which he threw at the man.

“I feel like I just watched a drug deal,” Bepo deadpanned.

“Even better than drugs,” Sanji claimed. “I don’t use a lot of it, but I’m practicing dishes from Wano for whenever it is Luff makes good on his threat to temporarily kidnap the consul’s son again.”

“Say the word ‘borrow’; it’s less incriminating,” Usopp shouted from the living room, not even taking his eyes off the game once.

“It’s just MSG,” Law shrugged.

“Yeah, but the good shit,” Sanji emphasized. He helped Law and Bepo unpack the rest of the bags and put everything away—odds and ends that weren’t of much consequence, but would be dangerous if missing later. “Nami-swan’s with Robin-chan picking Chopper up from school, by the way. They won’t be in until after lunch.”

That made Law’s eyebrows raise. “Sakura U is in Drum County. Four hours just driving round-trip.”

“Yeah, I know; I helped move the kid in freshman year.”

“Nami never volunteers to go get Chopper… unless…”

“Sounds like her mom’s getting some speecy-spicy dating action this week and she doesn’t want to hear about it,” Franky laughed. “I give the woman credit; she’s super feisty.”

“My dad just started dating again too—I get it,” Law said. “There are just some things you don’t want to hear… or learn… or think about…”

“If my old geezer started dating again, I’d die,” Sanji admitted with a shudder.

“Saaaame,” Usopp chimed in. The race ended and the teen groaned. “Brook! You are literally older than video games themselves! How did you beat me?!”

“I guess I’m a gamer down to my bones… which is all of me!” Brook cackled. “Law’s friend! Would you like to join us for the next round?”

“Uh… sure…” Bepo said warily. He sat down next to Usopp and accepted the fourth controller. “Are there any bear characters?”

As Usopp explained the game mechanics to Bepo, Law took his backpack up to Nami’s room and began to set himself up for later that night. He took care of the shit like condoms and lube because he wasn’t a goddamned barbarian and didn’t want his girlfriend to get worried if in the chaos of everything she forgot her medication for a couple days. It was just part of being a responsible adult and not some skeezebag looking to fuck how he wanted and whom he wanted without thinking about repercussions. The thought of a physical consequence crossed his mind as he shut the nightstand drawer and shuddered—Cora-san as a grandfather of all things would be something he’d need more than a few months to brace for.

“Law, there you are, holy shit.” He looked over his shoulder to see Penguin and Shachi both standing there, looking precisely the amount of moist that would be appropriate if they had been dragged into the pool against their will. Not only that, but they appeared to be absolutely flabbergasted by the entire situation they found themselves in. “That’s the second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army in the pool… the national-level political party, not state-level!”

“I know, Penguin.”

“…and the other’s one of the lieutenants of the Moby City mayor!”

“I know, Shachi.”

“…and apparently the host of Impel Drag Race is ‘popping by’ later?!”

“…and the straw-hat kid’s referring to the former state lieutenant governor as his grunkle?!”

“…and the one in the kitchen you had us go to six specialty import stores for is sous chef and heir to the Baratie?!”

“…and apparently your girlfriend is currently on a fetch quest to haul over here one of the few who can out-prodigy you when it comes to medicine?!”

“…a kid, may I remind you, whose grandparents are part of the reason why we even have world-class medicine in Greater Logue Town, let alone the state?!”

“…and Bepo’s getting his ass handed to him in video games by the Soul King himself…?!”

“I get it: we stick out the least despite the fact you two hold multiple state-level swimming records each, I’m the youngest surgeon in all departments at Logue Town General by at least a decade, and Bepo’s a bear,” Law reminded them casually. “To consider this as anything close to a normal party house is sort of a disgrace to the very concept of a party house.”

“This place is batshit,” Penguin stated. “It also might break physics because it feels like it’s bigger on the inside.”

“That’s your crisis to work through, not mine,” Law said. He reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out two single wrapped condoms, throwing them at his friends. “Be careful; if Hancock-ya shows up tonight, she’s going to bring the whole team, and I know how strong of a will you two have in front of a pretty face and thick thighs.”

“Wait, what…?” Shachi gaped. Law shrugged.

“The captain of the Amazon Lily roller derby team out of Kuja has a weird crush on Strawhat-ya that he doesn’t quite recognize and when she’s here, the entire team is here.”

“Law, have we ever expressed how much we truly appreciate your friendship?” Penguin said, his and Shachi’s demeanor clearly changed. They were in such awe that tears were beginning to well in their eyes. “This could honestly be the best night of our lives!”

“Step-on-me-pussy is literally the best pussy,” Shachi added with a sniffle. “We are in your debt.”

“Remember that next time I need changed dressings, blood draws, and vitals from everyone in the unit half an hour before shift change,” Law warned. His friends didn’t hear him—they were too busy imagining the possibilities for later on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What does it say about everything that you still don’t strike me as an adopt-into-single-fatherhood sort of man?” Bell-mère asked. She was at Cora’s for the evening, glad that the mysterious kid of his was gone with friends for the weekend. Picking up a picture frame from an end table, she looked at the image of her former comrade-in-arms hugging a sullen tween with Reverse Mountain National Park in the background. “Cute kid though.”

“Yeah, that’s from not long after I became his official guardian,” Cora said from the kitchen. “He was sick when I got him—didn’t think he’d make it past thirteen.”

“No shit. Now you said he’s in his twenties?”

“Yeah—went into medicine; his birth family was full of doctors and I think he wants to honor them that way. Works at Logue Town General and everything.”

“Who knows? He might know my youngest daughter’s beau.” Bell-mère went into the kitchen and sat at the table, watching Cora cook on the electric range—the only reason he wasn’t spontaneously bursting into flame while cooking their dinner. “She’s fucking some doctor who’s got to be closer to our age than hers if the intel we get from her friends is anything.”

“Possibly, though there’s a lot of doctors in LTG.”

“True.” She watched as he splashed some sauce on himself accidentally. “Sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m sure,” he winced. “So, what about you? Still never gave me an answer about the girls.”

“Something just clicked in my brain, you know?” she shrugged, taking it upon herself to pour the wine instead. “I’m sure you had a moment like that with your son.”

“Yeah, but Bell-mère the Beast? Adopting two little orphans while out on deployment?”

“You blew your cover on a covert job when you left, and the only reason you’re not dead is because it involved infiltrating your brother’s criminal empire and you both are worth more to him alive and unperturbed.”

“Technicalities,” Cora scoffed. He brought two plates of food to the table and sat down. “Things are still a little frosty between Sengoku and me for it, but I’d do it all over again and I’m sure you feel the same.”

“Beyond a doubt.” She ate some of the rice on her plate and chuckled. “At least fatherhood made you a decent home cook.”

“I’ll show you what else I’m still decent at after dessert,” he teased. She snorted in laughter—of course he would, because of course he was.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was late that night as Law and Nami both laid in bed, curled up together with their naked bodies flush against one another. The house was finally quiet and they could both just relax—a rare treat for the place they were currently occupying.

“Hey… Nami…?” He could feel her smile against his chest at the dropped honorific; something he did only when they were alone.

“Yeah…?”

“Is this… what you want…?”

She sat up and stared at him, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow in a curious arch. “What do you mean by that?”

“Having the extent of our relationship being sneaking off to fuck in the middle of a house party?” He tried to shrug aloofly, but was too taken in by the sight of her in the moonlight to do more than twitch. “Would you like to be… I dunno… more involved…?”

“Depends on your definition,” she replied. She hugged her knees as she looked at him, the very sexy and very naked man in her bed bringing a tattooed arm up in order to rub circles on her back.

“Seeing one another without any of our friends needing to be there,” he mused. “Showing up at one another’s workplaces as a surprise, meeting my dad… your mom and sister…” He exhaled heavily, avoiding eye contact by staring at her shoulder tattoo. “I’m not saying commitment, but…”

“I get it; you want to know what’s on the table, if you need to keep future options in mind.”

“I guess.” He paused, trying to find the words. “I don’t mind if we’re a temporary thing…”

“You can say ‘fling’. I won’t be insulted.”

“Okay, fine: I don’t care if this is a fling and we drift apart or we’re actually friends with damn good benefits or I’m just what you’re into for now and you drop me like a rock next month. I mean… I’m getting sex out of it… sex with you…”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she reminded him, patting the bit of blanket covering his dick. “This is working for more than just you, trust me.”

“What I’m saying is…” he swallowed hard, “if you’d like, I’m willing to start exploring what a life together might be like.”

“See if we like what’s being laid down?”

“Pretty much. We’d need to meet each other’s parents first—hiding you from my dad any longer than I have to will be torture.”

“Well, I’ve never tried the meet-the-parents routine with anyone except for friends, so if you want to try, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

A small smile twisted the corner of his mouth upwards. “Yeah…?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Law exhaled, only then he realized he had been holding his breath. “Okay. We can do this…? We can do this. I mean, we’re adults.”

“We are.” She then laid back down, settling herself between his arm and his chest. “Let’s talk about it more after some sleep. Then I’ll tell my mom when I get home.”

“…and I’ll tell Cora-san.”

“Wait…” she giggled incredulously. “Your dad’s name is Cora?”

“It’s an old nickname,” he grumbled, “but it is what he prefers to be called. I’ll break that down for you later as well.”

“No, it’s just funny because that’s the name of the woman my mom’s dating. Sorting through the Two Cora Situation is going to be a group bonding exercise in of itself.”

“I guess so.” He closed his eyes as he felt Nami bring the blankets around them again, taking in the wonderful silence of the night.

Well, it was silent for people without really good hearing, as he could have sworn he heard Shachi sob through an orgasm in another room. Only his friends could ruin a moment and not even be there.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The following morning went the average amount of well an after-party morning could go. Most of the house denizens were some version of worn-out thanks to either staying up late, copious amounts of alcohol, or both. The pair of Kuja that stayed the night with Penguin and Shachi both left early—Law had still been on his first cup of coffee when they did—dragging along the smitten Hancock with them. The surgeon watched as his friends found their way into the back by the pool, plopping down at the little table next to him as he scrolled through news headlines on his phone.

“You’ve been holding out,” Penguin scolded.

“Yeah,” Shachi said, expression to be too relaxed to be anything but blissful. “We got them on social and everything. What took you so long to bring us here?”

Law shrugged through his coffee, which his friends refused to accept for an answer. They both glared at him, waiting for whole minutes until he cracked.

“I wanted to make sure of it… you know.” He contemplated his next sentence, thought better of it, and went through with it anyhow. “I’m having her meet Cora-san.”

“Oh, fuck,” Shachi cringed. “That’s… that’s a hell of a step for you.”

“The number of people that have both met your dad and seen your dick is extremely small, and the list even exists in the first place purely due to changing rooms and nothing sexual,” Penguin noted.

“Yeah, you think I don’t realize that?” Law fired back. “Nami-ya and me, Cora-san and his… lady-friend I’m surprised actually exists, and Nami-ya’s mom with her lady-friend—just going to tear the bandage off and get us all together.”

Shachi let out a low whistle. “Oooh… you got it bad.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Law grunted. “I’m putting up with Strawhat-ya to be with her, so might as well.”

It was then that Luffy, almost if on-cue, ran out of the house and did a cannonball into the pool, splashing water all over Law, but not Penguin and Shachi. The latter two tried to hide their giggles as a now-familiar shishishi echoed through the yard.

Yeah, he had it bad alright.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, it didn’t take long for Law to get a hold of everyone’s schedules. After looking at the family calendar and swiping her mother’s phone while she was in the shower, Nami was able to confirm that three weeks from that Tuesday worked well. He felt a sense of triumph as they coordinated the event, all the way down to the thumbs-up emojis that were sent his way when she asked her mom to join them.

Now, for the big one. It was luckily Law’s turn to make dinner that Monday, which meant that he was able to have everything ready by the time Cora-san came home from work. The older man raised an eyebrow when he saw his son in the kitchen with food nearly ready.

“Anything the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong; just sit.” Cora did and Law brought over two plates of carbonara. “I just want a nice dinner for once.”

“Not complaining,” Cora nodded. He twirled some pasta on his fork and took a large bite, proceeding to talk with his mouth full. “So… you gonna tell me what this is about…?”

Fuck, busted.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to listen to me and not get too excited,” Law frowned. Cora perked up, his attention piqued. “Since we’re both dating someone…”

“…yeah…?”

“I thought it would be nice if we took a very non-committal step to clear the air and all meet one another.” Sparkles formed in the older man’s eyes and Law almost instantly regretted it. “She’s inviting her mom and mom’s girlfriend, while I’m supposed to invite you and… whatever it is that you consider a hot date. You know… be adults.”

“A triple date! How social of you! This young lady of yours must be doing wonders for your tolerance levels!” A thought then came to Cora and he instantly grew serious. “The crew isn’t jealous, are they?”

“Shachi and Penguin were both ‘stepped on’ by tri-state roller derby champions over the weekend and Bepo has decided that he’s determined to mentor this kid who we hang around now so he also doesn’t get the life sucked out of him by being a teenager in med school.”

“Then they approve! Excellent! Let the appropriate parties know and we can set up a day and time! Oh, this will be fun!”

“I was thinking three weeks from tomorrow, at a place near the hospital so it can be for lunch. We double-checked your schedules.”

“Not a dinner-date here…?”

“No, because I want to keep your shenanigans to a minimum, and that’s usually achievable when you’re trapped in a booth seat.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he admitted. “I’ll pass the word along tonight.”

“Thanks—let me know if anything comes up.”

“Oh, not a problem.” Cora couldn’t stop his wide smile as he looked at his son across the table. “You’ve come a long way, you know.”

“Yeah,” he blushed, “I know.”

“They’d be proud.”

“I know.”

“Now: does this mean I’m getting grandkids?”

It honestly took all Law had to not fling pasta in Cora’s face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later that night, Cora found himself having his final smoke of the evening before turning in for bed. Law was already asleep—kid’s circadian rhythm had always been fucked—and that meant that Cora was able to take his cigarette on the patio in peace without hearing his boy nag him about emphysema and other such things. He was nearly done when his phone buzzed: The Beast.

“Hey,” he answered, applying a suave tone to his voice.

“You said you wanted to talk about something?” Bell-mère asked. The text was actually a request to call when she was free, but he wasn’t complaining. “Is this about phone sex? Because I am actually in the mood for some phone sex…”

“We can do that later—there is something I want to get out of the way first.”

“Who’s dying?”

“No one,” Cora said cheerily. He stubbed out the cigarette and made his way back into the house. “It’s just my boy’s decided to coordinate something between us, so we can meet his girlfriend and her mom and mom’s girlfriend!”

“A triple date? With mostly people he doesn’t know? Kind of a lot for a kid that only tolerates hanging out with three people aside from his girlfriend.”

“Well, rumor has it that he met her at a party, and he tolerates her friends, so who knows?” Cora was beaming brightly as he looked at himself in the mirror next to the door—this was the sort of thing that was a rite of passage, wasn’t it? Meeting your kid’s significant other? Her mom? Oh, it was exciting! Was this a sign something more was on the horizon?! “He was thinking of going and doing something low-key: lunch at this restaurant that’s near the hospital.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “…Don Silver?”

“Yeah! I guess he and his friends go there during and after shifts a lot. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need a reservation, but he’s asking them to set aside a table for us anyhow since he’s such a good regular.” Cora then paused, expression falling “How did you know?”

“My daughter wants us to meet her old-man-doctor-boyfriend, his dad, and dad’s girlfriend for lunch there. Tuesday at one?”

“…oh.”

Both Cora and Bell-mère were silent—no… it couldn’t be…

“Belle…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Did she tell you what the reservation was under…?”

“Her old-man-doctor-boyfriend’s name, but it’s not Donquixote…”

“I never gave him my family name, Belle. The adoption papers went through too slow for it to take effect before he started med school, even if he wanted to change it.”

“It’s a weird name, hold on, she wrote it down for me…” He heard a rustling of paper and then her grunting as she attempted to figure out how to pronounce it. “Tra… Tra-faye-el-gar?”

“Trafalgar; my son’s family name is Trafalgar.”

“Huh.” Cora began to chew at his fingernails and pace the kitchen as his mind began to race and the woman on the other end contemplated. He then began to pace and tug at his hair.

“Belle…?”

Nothing.

“Belle, answer me.”

Silence.

“Belle…?!”

“So,” she chuckled, “wanna fuck with ‘em?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Don Silver was a well-patronized family restaurant within walking distance of Logue Town General, which made it the perfect location for Law to slip out to during his shift, but also to slip back in should an emergency arise. He left Bepo in charge of his patients until he came back, promising to stay late if he was out so long it threw everything off. When he walked into the restaurant, the owner simply gestured to the usual back booth he normally haunted with his friends, seeing that Nami was already there.

“Ah, there you are,” she chuckled, exchanging a quick peck as he sat down next to her. “Everything seems like it’s going as planned. Nojiko was a little irritated that she wasn’t invited, but she’ll get her chance.”

“Yeah, she will,” he agreed. Law felt as though his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I know… kind of exciting, isn’t it?” She leaned in close and pressed a kiss to the back of his jaw, smiling as she saw how confused the owner was at the scene. “I should have you know that you might not be on the list of favorites after this.”

“Your mom that big of a menace?”

“More like Gin over there and Sanji have had beef since culinary school,” she chuckled. Law caught that the owner was staring at them and he shrugged—how could he have known? “Oh, hey, there’s Bell-mère!”

“…and that’s Cora-san,” Law noted. He watched has his foster father held open the door for Nami’s mother. “Wait a second… where’s their dates…?”

“That is… huh…” Nami trailed off as Cora and Bell-mère made their way to the table. Both parents decided to slide directly into the booth seating, with the leggy, clumsy one on the inside. “Do we need to wait for the others, or…?”

“There’s no others; what are you talking about?” Bell-mère scoffed. A waiter came over to deposit some glasses of water—a handled mug for Cora, as they were warned beforehand—and battered menus, leaving the four to their own devices for the time being. “It’s just us and our manfriends, although I’m honestly impressed you went as old as you did considering mine’s just a year younger than me…”

“Nojiko and I have been under the impression you’ve been seeing a woman named Cora…”

“Short for Corazón,” Bell-mère shrugged. “That was your codename out in the field, right hon?”

“It was, wasn’t it, Law?” Cora smirked. He tried very hard to not notice the deep sense of confusion his son was radiating. “You’ve been here a lot; what’s good?”

After some awkward deliberation, the waiter came back and took their orders and the menus while depositing a breadbasket. A silence settled over the table once the waiter left, one that made the younger couple hold hands underneath the table for strength, while the older couple decided to put their plan into action.

Operation Fuck with the Brats was a-go.

“We want to thank both of you for meeting us like this,” Cora said seriously, deciding to be the one to break the ice. He nearly couldn’t stop himself from bursting into laughter as he watched panic settle in on his son’s face. “It’s not exactly the sort of thing we want to talk about when I’m liable to trip while wandering around the house.”

“What…?” Nami wondered, cocking her eyebrow.

“Man’s a complete klutz,” Bell-mère said before Law could explain. “Let’s just hope it’s not inheritable.”

All the color left Nami and Law’s faces at once.

“What… erm… do you mean by that…?” the younger woman asked. Bell-mère shrugged.

“Eh, just putting shit down in the right places,” she replied. “Should’ve done it years ago, but never had the reason, until now…”

“Cora-san…? What is she talking about…?” Law asked, his voice faint. His foster father grinned widely.

“We wanted you two to be our Best Man and Maid of Honor!” he beamed. “You’d be perfect for the job! It doesn’t even get into being Emergency Guardians…”

“Oh I’m going to be sick,” Nami grimaced.

“Don’t you dare, you little shit,” Bell-mère warned. “I would think it’d be an honor. You did always want to be an older sister growing up.”

“…and we’re already on the older side for a baby, so having their older siblings be the ones to take care of them in case we can’t is perfect!”

Law sank into the booth, completely dumbstruck. Cora-san…?! And Nami’s mom…?! He was almost regretting not making this meeting at the Southern Blue pub down the street—at least they had a liquor license. “Does Doflamingo know about this…?”

“My brother wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if he had one walk in his front door,” Cora scoffed. “I know because I watched it happen. Multiple times.” The mortification on the younger couple’s faces was definitely worth the ruse; the kids seemed to be inventing new stages of grief. “Speaking of front doors—Bell-mère’s moving in since there’s more room, so you have the choice of staying in your current room or out elsewhere.”

“Nami, you and Nojiko get to fight it out over what to do with where we’re at now,” Bell-mère added. “Just don’t rent it out to any of your weirdo friends—I’d like the place to stay intact, thank you.”

“You have to be fucking with us,” Nami decided. She dug into her purse and whipped out her phone. “I’m calling Nojiko.”

“Go ahead, be that way,” Bell-mère said. She watched as Nami hit the button to dial her sister and held the phone up to her ear.

“So…? How’s it going…?” Ah, fuck, she sounded too smug.

“Nojiko, did you know anything about this?”

“…about what…?”

“…about why the hell our mom decided to meet my boyfriend so easily…”

“Ooohhhh, that,” Nojiko replied, a grin on her voice. “Yeah, she should have told us that her kinky reconnect was a dude before she got herself all prego. She offered me Maid of Honor first, but I said you can have it since you’d actually want to sleep with the geriatric Best Man…”

“I fucking hate you all,” Nami said before ending the call. She put her phone screen-down on the table and glared at her mother. “You are absolutely mortifying.”

“I am what I am,” Bell-mère shrugged. She then wrinkled her nose and looked at Cora with a frown. “Oh… the kid’s gonna be a Donquixote, isn’t it…?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“Then how do you suggest we tell your brother? Ease him in gently or just let him discover on his own?”

“I honestly don’t know which would be worse.”

“Your brother—that’s up to you. Oh! Food’s here!”

Sure enough Bell-mère did notice their food coming out the kitchen as the waiter dropped off the plates cheerily. Both Law and Nami really didn’t feel like eating anymore, while their parents both began to pick at their fries…

…and laughed.

“Ah, fuck, we really had you going!” Bell-mère snorted.

“Your faces are priceless,” Cora added.

“So… you’re not having a baby…” Nami stated.

“…and you’re not getting married,” Law continued.

“Tch; don’t think I’m ready to settle down quite yet,” Bell-mère scoffed. “Besides, this klutzy nightmare? Fuck baby-proofing—I’d have to Rosi-proof.”

“Then you’re not seeing one another…?” Law knew it was dangerous to be hopeful. He was anyhow, only for his hopes to be dashed against the floor unceremoniously like a slippery water glass.

“Sorry to burst that bubble, kids, but I am one-hundred-percent fucking this goober despite all logic and reasoning telling me that I probably shouldn’t,” Bell-mère shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d be with a man again after we last hooked up in the Marines, but I have to admit he’s improved with age.”

“Belle…” Cora giggled, blushing furiously. “That’s still my son and his cute girlfriend…”

“…and that’s my daughter and her geriatric manfriend,” she replied. “They’re adults; I think they can handle it.”

To be honest? Neither Law nor Nami wanted anything to do with anything at that very moment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was actually a fucking gorgeous day as Law laid face-down on the grass in the backyard at 1000 Sunny Drive. He hadn’t thought it was particularly appropriate to show his face at Luffy’s sus-as-fuck party house in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere after what had happened earlier in the week, but Bepo and the goons insisted. While the bear chatted amiably with Chopper and Kaya (how the fuck did Usopp of all the kids got himself a girlfriend? That he wasn’t having sex with yet? No one really knew), Penguin and Shachi were biding their time before the Amazons Lilys showed up (and let’s be real: the nursing techs knew they were the lay-conquest), while Law… he was just trying to not die of embarrassment.

“So…” a voice said, almost consolingly. “You fucked your sister.”

“She is not my sister, Roronoa-ya,” Law replied. He didn’t need to look to see the kendo genius standing there, nor that it was the chef who nudged him in the side with his foot.

“Well, your parents fucked before you did, so that makes you siblings.”

“That does not make them siblings, mossbrain,” Sanji scoffed. “Come on, Law. What do you think you’re going to achieve by doing all this sulking?”

“I’m touching grass; go away.”

“I don’t think that’s what they mean, but keep telling yourself that. Besides, you know the marimo never learned about sex-ed, birds or bees. I bet his old man would have reproduced via budding if he could and skipped the adoption paperwork.”

“Yours probably wishes he could bake himself a less pervy son.”

“Fuck off, you overgrown grass stain,” Sanji hissed.

“You realize none of this is helping, right?” Law said into the lawn.

“Eh; worth a shot.” Law heard Sanji flick open his lighter and the familiar smell of cigarettes hit his nose—the man smoked the same brand as Cora.

“Get away from him, you vultures,” scolded a very familiar voice. Zoro chuckled lowly as Sanji pulled him away. Once the clowns had dispersed, Nami sat down on the grass and sighed, hugging her knees.

“I blame Bell-mère for getting Nojiko in on it,” she reminded him. “She’s the reason any of these morons know anything… well, that and Sanji not having Gin blocked on social.”

“I know—it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.”

“True, but it does mean that we’re probably going to spend holidays together at the very least, whether we’re fucking or not.” She reached over and began scratching his scalp, eliciting a heavy whine. “Look at it this way: they could have not been joking.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t still happen,” he replied. “Pregnancy can occur all the way until post-menopause, and many are accidental.”

“Shhhh…” she soothed, smoothing his hair. “Don’t think about it.”

All he could do was squeak out a pained groan—he was a doctor… all he could do was think about it.

[ameliafuckinjones]

If I said half the things I wanted to say about Canada and Americas relationship as siblings and neighbors, how they're ACTUALLY viewed by the world when it comes to international matters that are actually important (NATO, AUKUS, global economy, AI and tech companies, hegemony etc) and how it would be more interesting to explore aspects of their relationship as well as their relationship with the world that correlates with reality rather than this made up version that dominates the fandom... commie tumbler would hunt me down and kill me

[rxin3akamallory]

CW: Slightly visible s3lf h@rm scars

Doodled a scene from this lil fic I wrote a while ago

This is the first time I’ve actually drawn Lylla, I didn’t think she’d come out so well!!

[altschmerzes]

always good to remind oneself that it is always an option to simply block and ignore people who are being Weird To You on your posts. it is never necessary to engage. If It Sucks Hit Da Bricks.

[minimilesprower]

Hello, I’m making a story on quotev. Ik it’s not the most popular website or anything but I thought I’d start small and if it picks up I’ll move the story to different platforms. For awhile now I’ve wanted to put my writing into something fun, exciting, and new, so I’ve decided to write a WH fan fiction. Yeah ik, not the best way to start my writing career but here we are. I noticed that not many people write malexmale or gnxmale, so I’ve taken it upon myself to do that but add a bit of religious trauma! I’ve never been very religious, I believe whatever ppl believe could be right and I leave it at that. But I understand that many ppl have a bad relationship with religion, and I feel like it’s not brought up enough in fan media. So I’ve decided to write this, it’s not much right now but I’m working on it. for people who want to feel represented in media, don’t worry man you’ll get your spotlight. All you religiously traumatized boys who felt repressed bc of ur sexuality, this is for you!

If you have any suggestions for this story let me know, if you’ve had similar experiences and would like to share them you can in the asks, anonymously. I sadly do not message ppl privately, period. But if you give me permission to use that information in my stories it will be gladly appreciated and I would also like some places to look online for more information about religious trauma and stuff of that nature.

Thank you for listening, Milo out.