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#I feel like this is the only order they can stand in w/out a fight breaking out
lylaclivin · 2 months
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Poppy, Melvin, Rodney, and Juke from @z-t00n’s hoppscotch :) their designs are so adorable, I couldn’t resist!
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ellecdc · 2 months
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hi lovie !
I ADORE your writing and get so excited everytime you post 😭
I wanted to ask if you’re okay with writing a poly!marauders x reader fic where r is an overthinker and over analyzes small things. It brings r to think the boys are mad at reader so r begins to close off— happy ending w/ healthy communication, just them reassuring r
🤍you can absolutely ignore this!!
thank you baby! I'm so glad to have you here with me 😭 thanks for your request 🫶
poly!marauders x fem!reader
CW: insecurities, overthinking, belief of conflict, eventual healthy communication skills, men behaving rationally (that's how you know it's fiction) jkjkjkjkjk 👀
You knew you were overthinking; you could actually hear yourself spiraling as you chewed aggressively on your cuticles. You ran through every single interaction you and the boys had throughout the past few days and couldn’t help but come to the same conclusion every time.
They were mad at you.
And even saying it aloud made you feel silly because, really, what could you have possibly done that would have managed to upset all three of them without knowing about it?
There had been a few disagreements between the four of you since the beginning of the relationship; more specifically since you had joined the relationship. 
The boys, it seemed, went through most of their more volatile fights prior to you meeting them. 
But that didn’t mean there weren’t arguments. There were always differences of opinions, some hurt feelings, and learning everyone’s sensitivities and love languages etc. didn’t happen overnight; it took time.
One thing you were particularly thankful for was that you had yet to ever feel like the boys were ‘ganging up’ on you. Your argument always stayed between you and the participant of the conversation and everyone else opted to stay out of it unless they felt they could provide some helpful insight. 
But for all of them to be mad at you without some big blow up happening? You couldn't imagine what would have caused it.
It wouldn’t have been anything you said or done to Sirius, as he was a very head strong person who preferred to face things upfront and head on. If you had done something wrong to Sirius, you would have heard about it. 
James was a wild card since he usually wore his feelings on his sleeve, but he also had a tendency to paint a smile on his face and smile through the pain in order to keep the peace. 
Remus was often stoic and the voice of reason, but you also knew he could be incredibly sensitive.
Oh god... had you done something to upset Remus? You must have...it’s the only rational explanation. He’d likely be telling Sirius not to say anything to you, and since Sirius struggled in biting his tongue, it would make sense that he opt for the “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all” route.
And though James did tend to smile through the pain in order to keep the peace, he was also fiercely protective of his people – particularly when those people don’t seem inclined to stand up for themselves.
Oh god. Is this why they asked you to come over tonight? They wanted to talk to you...no, they wanted to break up with you. 
By the time James opened the door, you had forgotten you even knocked. He was all bright smiles until he took in your form – he was disappointed to see you. 
“Hello, honey. Come on in.” He said, though his words were stilted, sounding oddly scripted and rehearsed. 
“Hey sweets!” Sirius called from somewhere in their flat, “have you eaten yet?”
“Yeah.” You called back, having to clear your throat when your voice came out gravelly. You could feel James’ eyes burning a hole into the side of your face.
“Moony’s running late from work, but he’ll be home soon.” James announced as he ushered you into the living room.
You scanned your surroundings, cataloguing everything like it might be your last time in here.
You found signs of Remus’ love of trinkets and the oddities everywhere you looked, as well as signs of James and Sirius feeding into that by bringing him home things they’ve found as well. There’s a small pewter fox you bought on your trip to the coast sitting on one of the shelves of his bookcase.
Picture frames lined the walls; evidence of Sirius’ love for photography, his camera, and his favourite people.
And the god-awful pillow James found at an estate sale and insisted it have a place on the couch. It was ugly, it was lumpy, it didn’t match with anything else in the space, but it was James’ and he loved it.
Sirius came bounding into the room and rubbed at James’ shoulder affectionately, pecking a quick kiss to the crown of your head in hello before breezing by to head to the kitchen.
“He just got a home a few moments ago, he’s gonna heat up some leftovers for him and for Remus when he gets home.” James explained.
“Do you want any, doll?” Sirius called.
“No, I’m okay. Thank you!” You tried your best to sound upbeat while a horrid feeling settled in your stomach.
James seemed to feel just as awkward as you did; keeping his eyes dutifully on you whilst trying to appear that he wasn’t. His leg bounced anxiously underneath him as he leaned onto the arm of the grandfather chair he sat in – across the room from you.
It may as well have been an ocean worth of distance with the way it left you feeling.
Sirius returned to the living room a few moments later and made himself comfortable on the other end of the couch from you, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table after placing a glass of water directly on the coffee table. You wanted to chide him, knowing Remus would have him by the bollocks if he saw, but you didn’t know if it was your place anymore.
Sirius asked you how your day at work was and you offered him a vague “oh it was alright. Long. How about yours?” which started him on a long tangent about some of his more colourful customers today and how tiresome he found people in general. He and James shared some quips and anecdotes about worst moments in their various retail experiences, and you thought about how much you were going to miss this.
“Okay, what is going on?” Sirius snapped abruptly, causing your head to shoot up so quickly that you heard it crack.
“Huh?” You asked sheepishly.
Sirius’ brows furrowed as he stole a glance at James before turning back to you. “You’re being weird...what’s going on with you?”
But you didn’t get a chance to answer when the sound of the front door alerted everyone to Remus’ arrival. You hated that you visibly tensed at the sound of him moving down the hall.
“Hey bubs. Is she here?” You heard him ask James, since you and Sirius couldn’t yet see him nor he you from his position in the hall way.
You felt your face scrunch up miserably and quickly brought your hands up to shield your face, choking out a silent sob.
“Yeah.” James responded, though his voice was but a whisper as Sirius added a “whoa” at the same time. 
“What did you guys do?” Remus cooed and made his way towards you having spotted your distress.
“I’m sorry.” You muttered miserably, both for whatever you’d done to cause this conflict between the four of you and also for your embarrassing display of emotions.
“What are you sorry for, dovey?” Remus asked softly as he knelt in front of you, gently taking your wrists and coaxing them away from your face. 
“For upsetting you all.”
Remus’ brows furrowed beyond their worried state and into a more confused state as he turned to look at the other two boys in bemusement. 
“Well, I don’t think any of us are happy that you’re so upset, love, but we’re not upset. You don’t have to apologize.” He pressed.
“I don’t think that’s what this is.” James input from his place across the room.
“I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure why you’re mad at me, but I’d like to talk about it with you and I promise not to do it again.” You cried, sounding disturbingly and embarrassingly close to begging.
“Mad at you? Is that why you’ve been such a weirdo tonight? You thought we were mad at you?” Sirius asked incredulously.
“Don’t call her a weirdo, Pads!” James chided, standing from his chair. 
“Why’d you think everyone was mad at you, dove?” Remus asked, ignoring the squawking of his boyfriends behind him as he forced you to hold eye contact with him.
“I... I don’t know, I guess things just felt kind of off this week and then...I don’t know.” You admitted dumbly. “And then I got here and, it just felt weird.”
“I’m sorry, angel.” James apologized, suddenly beside you having taken to sitting directly on top of (a very petulant) Sirius. “You seemed distressed and... I got nervous. Usually, Rem is the better one at handling these things, I wanted to wait until he got here to broach the subject. Sirius, though, has the tact of a bull.”
“So, you were just going to let all of us sit here awkwardly until Remus got here to save the day, huh? Not on my fucking watch.” Sirius groaned as he positioned himself to kick James not only off of him, but off the couch completely. This caused Sirius’ glass of water to topple off the coffee table and onto the rug below it.
“Nice going, Prongs,” Sirius spat victoriously from his place on the couch, “look at the mess you’ve made.”
“It wasn’t even my cup!” James defended.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that wasn’t on a fuckin' coaster, Sirius.” Remus reproached darkly, tossing the dark-haired boy a glare over his shoulder.
Sirius just smirked and then winked at you. “There you go, dollface, now everyone’s mad at me instead.”
“Awe, Pads!” James cooed from the ground before launching himself back onto Sirius. “Look at you, taking the heat off our pretty girl.”
Remus shook his head in exhaustion, but you could see a fond smile ghosting his lips from his place before you.
“Trust me, dove. You’re the least of our problems.”
You chuckled wetly and wiped the tears (and more embarrassingly, the snot) from your face. “I’m sorry. I feel rather silly now.”
Sirius, having given up on his instance to be the little spoon between he and James, looked around James’ broad frame in his lap to face you. “How about this; if we’re ever upset with you, we promise to tell you. If we haven’t said anything; it’s safe to assume we’re not mad. Okay?”
You nodded in agreement.
“And...” James continued. “Next time you find yourself feeling like this, maybe you can tell us, too?”
You nodded emphatically. “Yes, I promise. I’m sorry.”
Remus kissed the backs of both of your hands and stood from his knelt position in front of you.
“No more sorry’s, dove. We’re all good.”
James stood from Sirius’ lap to place a warm kiss to the space between your cheek and ear and whispered another apology for your being upset.
“Hey, Moons?” Sirius called.
“Yeah?”
“Are you heading to the kitchen?” He called with the sort of smirk that caused you and James to exchange a suspicious look.
“Yeah.”
“Can you grab me a glass of water, please?”
“Fuckin’ hell Sirius get off your arse. And use a sodding coaster.” Remus bellowed from the bedroom.
“See? You’re the least of our problems.” James repeated, stamping another kiss to your cheek. 
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feyascorner · 4 months
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okay first of all i ADORE ur writing… wanna take a bite out of it..
anyway… uh… can i uhh… order a uhh…. astarion x tav.. and like..tav has a fucking insane pain tolerance and always has.. and like… uhh… one time she gets fucking TOTALED in a fight and like obvi it would hurt… and shes like crying subconsciously.. and when some1 points it out shes like “what???? why am i crying wtf???” and like looks down and is just fucking BLEEDING… n then.. astarion comfort…
only if u want thoo!!!!
a/n. Im like the exact opposite I'm very dramatic about the slightest pain but this is such a cute request so Ty!! ALSO PLS EXCUSE IF THIS IS A LITTLE CLUNKY I HAD TO TYPE THIS OUT W MY FINGERS🫠🫠
Astarion is grateful for your tolerance to pain.
Of course, he doesn't particularly enjoy watching you in pain, but he’s no fool. He knows the sting and the soreness that comes after he drinks from your neck. Well, at least, it should sting. However, it never seemed to bother you, and for that, he's forever grateful for it.
These strange sentiments expand past his thirst for blood, as the relief he feels when you’re battered up after a battle and you smile at him as if nothing’s wrong is incomparable to any other feeling he’s felt.
That relief does not come currently, however.
The battle was nearly hopeless. Overwhelmed in number, mages casting counterspell, fighters constantly aiming at you…he’s lost track of it all. By some miracle you and your companions stand victorious, and when he sees that you offer Karlach a lopsided smile, confirming that you're fine, he reaches to pick up one of his daggers.
“Tav—what in the hells, are you okay?”
It’s then that he spots the way your lip quivers and tears glisten threateningly at your eyes. And when you meet his own, they begin to drip down your cheeks like crystals and roll off your chin. He's seen you in tears before, but out of something more positive—not from pain. Before he can even tell what he's doing, he's rushing toward you.
“Why are you—” he sees the blood seeping from your stomach, and his face would've gone pale if he could.
You finally lift your hands to your face, eyes wide when your fingertips brush against the dampness of your cheeks. “Oh. Why am I?…”
Shadowheart scrambles to scrimmage around her bag. “Here, let me—gods, where did I—did we use all the healing potions?—”
“Oh for hells sake. Because you're bleeding!” Astarion hisses, his hand intertwining with yours as he drags you toward the nearest tree where he sits you down. He freezes when you flinch but you shake your head, wiping at your eyes. Your other companions are still searching the enemy corpses for anything that might relieve you of the pain, but they're taking far too long for his liking.
“I’m okay, it doesn't really hurt that much.”
“You’re crying.”
“I didn't even know I was-” you wince.
His eyes narrow. “Lay down.”
“What? No, I’m really fine!”
“Gods, love, please for once, listen to me. It’s quite straining to watch you clamber around with that ghastly wound on your stomach.”
You frown, but he guides you down anyway, careful to lay down your head against the grass. “Now wait patiently. Maybe if we’re lucky, our dear friends will find a potion before I start developing wrinkles.”
A momentary silence hangs in the air. It’s by no means uncomfortable, but there are words on the tip of his tongue he wishes to say. And when he notices you staring, he sighs.
“If you're hurt, tell us. I don't care how high your pain tolerance is—if you're hurt, call us. Call me. Don't be a fool and bleed out over a few enemies when we’ve been through so much worse.”
The sincerity in his voice is almost embarrassing. But with the way you're watching him so seriously, he can't bring himself to dwell on such irrelevant factors.
Then, you smile again, as if you've forgotten about the pain. “How minor can the pain be for me to call you?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Can I call you when I stub a toe?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I will.”
He stares at you with lidded eyes and you laugh. He feels the weight on his shoulders get a bit lighter.
“You may call for me whenever you wish.”
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binsito · 7 months
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warning: usage of the words "good girl", "princess", unprotected sex, semi public sex, slight exhibitionism, jealous!hyunjin
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hyunjin had enough of this damn cocktail party.
he knew it was the professional thing to do: show up, be cordial and be supportive of his beautiful girlfriend who had worked her ass off to be in the position she was in today.
he was proud of you, to say the least.
watching you sip an alcoholic beverage, with a smile on your face as you chatted away with a person standing in front you.
things were going fine, however the night turned sour when a guy you worked with could not make it any more obvious that he was hitting on you.
hyunjin didn't like that one bit.
especially not when he was standing right next to you, glaring at the dumbass in hopes he would get the hint and get lost.
was he also this brazen when hyunjin wasn't around?
did he always pester you or was the liquid courage making him ballsy?
hyunjin would be damned if he thought he was going to let this slip.
absolutely not.
and the guy was quick to notice that your drink was almost up, offering to get you another one from the bar.
you being the sweet coworker you were, felt it was rude to deny him so you gave him your drink order and he quickly made a beeline to the bartender.
hyunjin wanted to laugh in his face.
did he ever in a million years think he had a shot with you?
of course not!
you were hyunjin's and hyunjin was yours, end of story. hyunjin would never let you go without a fight, which he was convinced he'd prevail from.
god, he was absolutely sick of this fool. who did he even think he was? being so painfully bold in front of him, had he no shame?
frustration and rage was coursing through hyunjin's veins. he swore he wasn't one to get jealous and act out but this guy was going to be an exception.
you hadn't even being paying much attention, staring around at people mingling with your empty glass in hand when you felt hyunjin grab your arm and tug you through the crowd of people.
"hyune? where are we going?" you asked, following him without hesitation because maybe it was important.
sometimes he had moments where he needed to step out for some air if the room became too stuffy so you figured it was one of those instances.
but he didn't answer you, and he didn't step outside either.
instead he pulled you into the restroom, not even caring to lock the door behind him, pressing you into the sink and kissing you deeply as he took the glass from your fingers and set it down.
"h-hyune.. w-wait baby.. w-what's wrong?" you said between kisses, but you already had a feeling of what was boiling inside of him.
he shushed you as he kissed down your neck, squeezing your sides tightly, smiling to himself slightly because he knew that idiot could only dream of having you like this, and a dream could not do the real thing any justice to be quite honest.
"b-baby what if someone-"
at the moment, he didn't give much of a shit if someone heard, if someone wondered where you had run off to.
he flipped you over, you facing yourself in front of the mirror. you both already looked a little disheveled and it made you worry about stepping out there again later looking like a mess.
hyunjin fumbled with his pants, pulling his cock out over his slacks just enough. he bunched your dress up to your waist and moved your panties to the side, watching as a string of your arousal connected your cunt to the fabric.
"god, princess.. you're so wet for me.. you like being naughty huh?" he kissed the shell of your ear, nibbling on your lobe gently.
"we don't have much time to waste kay? look at me.. eyes on me." he instructed, nimble fingers rubbing you a bit while he stroked his cock, lining it up with your entrance
"h-hyune baby-" he quickly covered your mouth as he pressed his cockhead inside of you. you gripping the sink in hopes of somehow grounding yourself but you already felt so weak.
"shh shh.. just take it baby.. i know you can be good and take it.. eyes on me remember?"
you nodded, your eyes meeting his through the mirror, his gaze lustful as he pressed another inch inside of you.
fuck, you already felt so full of him, clenching around his length because the situation was turning you on more than you'd like to admit.
once he bottomed out, you arched your back, his hand still on your mouth to stifle your moans as he began to pound into you. his other hand came up to grab a fistful of your hair, gripping it tightly as he held your head back for him.
he wanted to make sure you saw him ruining you, that he was the one fucking you good. that piece of shit had nothing on him, he was the one who made your knees buckle, that could pull the prettiest moans from you, that got to kiss and squeeze every inch of your body.
"i'm gonna fuck you good but you have to promise to keep my cum tonight okay?" he grunted, you could only nod against his hand, trying so hard to keep your eyes open and not roll them to the back of your head.
"good girl.. that's right baby.." he breathed out.
you both could feel your orgasms approaching, hyunjin trying his best to hold you up while also trying to keep his own composure.
the chatter outside was thankfully suppressing the noise coming from you two but it wasn't very helpful in warning you when someone was nearby.
the door handle twisting and opening to reveal the guy who had been flirting with you. drink in his hand as his jaw dropped at the sight in front of him. seems he had been looking all over the place for you to continue his pathetic scheme and to hand you the liquor he oh so kindly had gotten you.
"close the door, can't you see we're fucking busy?" hyunjin growled out at him, not relenting his pace. you furrowing your eyebrows as you felt yourself start to cream around hyunjin's cock. it was too fucking much, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore.
he quickly closed the door and ran off.
hyunjin smirked, feeling his ego swell. stilling his hips to let his cum shoot deep inside you, not a drop would go to waste.
"remember.. you're keeping it all in okay? gonna fuck it deeper when we get home."
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please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito
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skzdarlings · 2 months
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omg that sounds so fun!!!! (Sorry if this was quick I have your post notifs on) imma jump on this early!!! can we get “do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” W changbin? 😩😩😩
summary: you are in love with the son of your family's greatest enemy. he sneaks into your room one night after a party.
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pairing: seo changbin/reader content info: petite!reader. mentions of past body insecurities. romeo-and-juliet style love affair. sneaking around. gun play that is somehow more romantic than kinky but still kinda kinky. explicit sexual content. word count: 2900 words.
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masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.
enjoy!
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You catch his eye across the room. 
There are a hundred people between you, bustling in their designer gowns and glittering in their jewels.  The hotel ballroom is an incandescent chamber of silver light.  The sun has long since set but the party plays on in its excessive splendour, never tiring of itself. 
You are tired of it.  The glamour of this lifestyle has turned more tedious than not.  At the centre of all this majesty is money, and everyone in this room prioritizes their wealth and capital above everything else.  They have fought and slandered and killed each other and they will do it all again, but they throw their galas nonetheless. Places to celebrate themselves and their so-called achievements, to flaunt their successes in self-congratulation. Everyone laughs and dances, spinning around the ballroom, sipping their champagne. 
You smile and demur, pretending you are having a good time.  You sit with your family and only interact with their trusted allies or those who would be. 
He is vehemently not included in that. 
Seo Changbin. 
He is across the room with his family, your family’s greatest enemy.  Your father and his father are titans of business and the family rivalry spans generations.  It started with your great-grandparents and you are destined to uphold it.  You will marry an appropriate man of standing, someone who will expand the empire, someone whose allyship is worthwhile in both the monetary and social strata.  You will have children and raise them to take your place, to inherit your name and all the blood and money that comes with it.  
Those same expectations are on your enemy.   You hold gazes across the sparkling sea of people.  You look away first. 
You are coerced onto the dance floor by one of your father’s chosen men.  You join that sparkling sea. It is always bizarre to brush elbows with these people, knowing very well they would not hesitate to put a bullet in your head under any other circumstance.  You catch the sight of a few discreet weapons as you are twirled around the dance floor.   Ostensibly, weapons are not allowed inside the gala as fighting is prohibited, but these people always take their precautions. 
Your dance partner spins you.  You twirl as per the dance, then stumble to a halt because Changbin is standing there.  He is dancing with someone too, has them spun out the opposite way.  You stand in the middle of the ballroom looking at each other, faces equally stoic. 
He is dressed in all black, austere and intimidating.  His black hair falls in a sweep across his forehead, just this side of too-long so it obscures his eyes if he tilts his head a certain way.  He is always so meticulously hidden in public, nothing but a walking shadow.  He is a dark reflection of his family and their grim reputation.
But his jovial laughter is in your mind, his witty quips, his jokester nature.  He is devastatingly charming and endlessly humorous. 
You would never know just looking at him.  Changbin is not the tallest man in the room but he more than compensates with his bulk and power.  Pretty much anyone would be big next to you, but you know what your hand looks like when laid against his, how all encompassing the breadth of his big arms feel when they wrap around you. 
He does not touch you.  He looks.  He smirks, like he knows your heart is racing.  Then he spins away.  Your partner pulls you back. 
The dance continues.
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You say you are sick and leave the party early.  You are escorted back to the house with your usual security flank, sitting in the backseat of your limo with a guard on either side of you.  They wear bulletproof gear under their uniform, matching pale blue in the family’s colours, and wearing bulky glasses to shield their eyes.  They are all armed to teeth, wearing their holsters and belts.  They dwarf you almost comically.  They do not speak to you.
When you reach the house, you go straight to your bedrooms.  You have three rooms to yourself, each lonely space spilling into the next.  You dress in your closet, leaving the gown pooled in a silk mess on the floor.  You discard your jewelry and amble to your main room in a satin nightdress and robe.
You almost miss it, the sound so faint, but you swear a gentle knocking comes from your balcony doors.  They are still sealed shut.  Security did not notice anything remiss upon arrival, but there is a blind spot in the security camera on your balcony.  There are no cameras inside your room for privacy purposes.  But no one would know that unless you told them.   
And you have only told one person. 
You approach the balcony doors, wary.  You peer into the night, eyes roving the grand expanse of the brightly lit garden and swimming pool.  Wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and a security guard is finishing his round. 
You step onto your balcony slowly.  The security guard can only see you when you lean over.  He waves at you before leaving the yard, continuing the rest of his patrol elsewhere.   You watch him go. 
The world is quiet as it ever is.  You can hear the buzz of the pool lights and the tinkling of your wind chimes, little else.  You lean against your balcony railing and look over the yard.  You weigh the luxury of the estate against its cost.  Not for the first time, you ruminate on how it is absolutely not worth it. 
You sigh and turn.  Then you freeze at what, who, you find. 
You mistake him for a security guard for half a second, which nearly gives you a heart attack because they are never on your balcony.  But he is just wearing one of their uniforms.  You are not sure when he stole it, tonight or previously.  
Seo Changbin stands there in the blue uniform shirt and gun holster, winking at you behind bulky glasses.  He is pressed against the wall in the solitary blind spot, nodding his head to your balcony door.  If you open it a little wider, he can sneak in undetected. 
Like he has done a dozen times before. 
You feign nonchalance for the camera, humming to yourself as you step into your bedroom.  You push your door open all the way, positioning yourself in distracting view of the lens while he sneaks inside.   Then you follow and slam the door shut.  You both take a curtain and draw them together, meeting in the middle. 
“You shouldn’t be here,” you say.  It is not what you want to say.  You want to say, thank god you are here.  I missed you so much.  But that is an utterly foolish proclamation.  You know better.  You have always known better. 
But the son of your family’s greatest enemy is standing in your bedroom anyway.  He looks at you, at where you clutch your robe, at where you wet your lips.   He removes the glasses and tosses them aside, as if to study you more closely. 
“I shouldn’t,” he says.  You cannot tell if it is an agreement or a question. 
“No, you shouldn’t,” you say.  You take a step back, because every second in his proximity only compels you closer.  It is surer than a planet caught in a gravitational pull, threatened to be shattered by the sheer cosmic power of the star holding it in orbit.
He steps with you.  When you take another step, he follows.  Back and back and back.  He feels big in this space.  Even though your room is massive, his presence shadows your little world.  When your back hits the wall and he looms in front of you, he is all you can see.  Nothing else exists beyond him. 
“Changbin, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, though you know it is useless to protest your liaison with any logic, because this is a matter of the heart and not mind.  That rebellious heart of yours beats faster.  “If anyone found you here… we’d both be in so much trouble.” 
“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says.  He speaks with such easy confidence, like it is a matter of fact and not hope.  He says it so certainly that you almost believe him. 
“You can’t promise that,” you say. 
“Yah, shame on you,” he teases.  “You know I always keep my word.” 
It is true.  Though Changbin has a formidable reputation, it has little basis in actuality.  He is a man of strong moral principle.  He does not like the fighting and brawling and warring.  He does not hurt innocent people, nor does he put civilians at risk for the sake of a stupid business. 
And he has treated you with more loving respect than anyone else in your life. 
Of course you surrender to him, again and again, sighing now as you lean against the wall and release your robe.  It falls open and reveals your little nightdress.  His gaze dives down your body, igniting sparks inside you.  You were once insecure about your appearance, taking to heart your mother’s admonishments, that you were scrawny and gaunt, nothing but a burden as they struggled to find a match for you. 
It is no struggle for Changbin.  He curses even though he has seen you a dozen times.  He holds your hips, then runs his strong hands up your body so you shiver all over.  He cups the back of your head and draws you close, like he intends to kiss you.  You are ready for it, eyelids heavy and lips parting. 
With his other hand, he reaches for his chest holster.  You blink as he slowly draws the gun, as he brings it closer to you.  It feels like your whole body turns to liquid heat, heart thundering as he rests the barrel so delicately against your temple. 
“See, baby,” he says, “if they find us, they’ll blame me.  What was a little thing like you supposed to do, ah?  Fight me?” 
You are breathing harder, already so hot with anticipation.  You gasp when he tugs you closer still, the gun still tapping your temple. 
His lips are so close to yours, they almost touch.
“Poor baby,” he says.  “She’s so good to her family.  It’s not her fault Seo Changbin climbed in her window and fucked her in her little nightdress.”  He moves the gun, making your breath catch again.  The barrel touches your lips then moves down, down.  It brushes a sensitive nipple, then moves lower still.  The cool metal brushes your inner thigh under your nightdress and your knees starting shaking, a delicious heat twisting in your belly.  “Tsk, tsk,” he says.  “No panties.  Maybe it’s not my fault completely.” 
“We really shouldn’t do this,” you say, but it is still not what you want to say. I want you, I need you, so so badly.
He smiles and lifts the gun again, all the way up to your mouth where he taps your lips.
“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” he asks.
It is so funny; Changbin is holding a gun to your lips but you feel more safe than dancing among those people at the party.  You trust him so completely, so irrevocably, that you do not feel truly threatened for even a moment.  There is something so liberating and joyous in allowing your body to go completely lax, in forgetting all your many grievances for the short but blissful time you have with him.  Your heart is so full you could burst. 
You kiss the tip of the gun, then smile. 
“Well,” you say.  “What are you waiting for?” 
He tosses the gun onto the bed so he can hold you with both hands when he kisses you.  You moan against his lips.  His searching hands are careful where he touches you, squeezing and loving. He cups the small curve of your breast in his palm, rubs there until electric desire shoots to every extremity.
You shrug your robe off and he wastes no time gathering you into his arms. He holds you so securely, picking you up with no effort at all.  Then you are pressed against the wall with him pressed against you. 
“Yes, yes,” you say, gasping, as he kisses down your neck.  He hikes you higher, catching you effortlessly, guiding your legs around him as he kisses down to your breasts.  He wraps his lips around a nipple through your dress, making you clench your thighs around him, which makes him giggle like the maniacal tease he is. 
“You like that,” he says, and tugs your dress down to get his mouth on you properly.  He is so good with his tongue.  You feel a little giddy, thinking to yourself that it is his true weapon.  Fast, precise, teasing you and working you until you are tugging at his head and grinding against him. 
“I need you,” you say, breathlessly, “Changbin, Changbin—”  
You seldom take your time, given the danger of the situation.  With the house empty and both your families occupied, you have time tonight to go a little slower, but you simply cannot wait.  You are both accustomed to instant satisfaction when together.  Your body feels wrong without him inside it.  You need him like a breath of air. 
“Please,” you say.
You do not have to beg much.  He fiddles with his belt and his zip, then he repositions you.  You cover your mouth to catch your squeal when he pushes inside you.  He moans into your neck to stifle his own sounds. 
“Baby, so good for me,” he murmurs, sounding intoxicated from the silky feel of you, wrapped around him so completely. 
You know the feeling.  You are incapable of forming sentences, clinging to him desperately as he fucks you steadily against the wall.  He holds you with just one arm, the other palm planted flat to the wall, near your head.  You clutch his big bicep while your other hand sinks in the hair at his nape.   You fuck until he is close, when he carries you to the bed and lays you out. 
You lean forward and take him in your mouth, sucking him down until he comes.  He bites his wrist to keep his volume down. 
You wipe your lips, smiling.  Then you sprawl back on the bed, nightdress turned to little more than a sash around your middle.  You slide it off completely.  Even though he just came, he is already looking you with hungry eyes.  He puts a knee on the bed, evidently ready to pounce.   
You pick up the gun and point it at him, quirking a playful eyebrow.  He blinks at you, surprised, then smiles as well. 
“Baby,” he says.  “That wasn’t the plan.”
“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” you reply. 
It just makes him laugh.  The sound makes your heart gush with sentiment.  He looks so handsome and sweet, hair pushed back, a light sheen of sweat on his neck.  He is still mostly dressed, tucked back into his pants, but they are open and slung low, his shirt all untucked. 
He gazes at you with deep, dark eyes, nothing but affection on his face.  He plays your game and strips his shirt off, then he crawls across the bed until he is close enough for you to rest the barrel of the gun against his temple. 
“Go on,” you say, nodding. 
Truly, his tongue is the greater weapon.  The gun does not stand a chance, falling out of your hand, forgotten, as he descends between your legs.  You feather his hair through your fingers, then dig into his scalp, riding the motion of his mouth as he licks and sucks and kisses you down there.   You come with a shivering sigh, your legs shaking. 
He lifts his head and wiggles his eyebrows.  “Good?” he asks, to which you can only nod.  “Ha-ha,” he says, lightly slapping your thigh.  “Of course it was.  It’s me.”
You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes. 
“You are incorrigible,” you say. 
He climbs up your body and kisses you on the lips, tasting of you.  It makes you whimper, delighted. 
“I think you meant to say incredible,” he teases.  “That’s okay, I understood you anyway.” 
“I’m sure you did,” you say.  Because there is a great deal of truth in that statement.  You and him are on opposite sides of this ridiculous feud, but you are in exactly the same place.  No one understands you better than him. 
That understanding is written all over his face.  He smiles tenderly, cupping your cheek in his hand.  His next kiss is the definition of romance itself, sweet and long, enough to make you swoon. 
“How much time do you think we have?” you ask.
“Not much,” he answers, then kisses you again.  “Don’t think about it now.  It’s okay, baby.  I got you.” 
“I know,” you say.  You wrap your arms around each other and hold tight, kissing again while you can.  The truth is, neither of you is in any position to dictate your fate.  But he kisses you like that does not matter, with no past and no tomorrow on the horizon.   You take control of this moment and consider it a happy ending for as long as you can.   
573 notes · View notes
romanoffsdarling · 6 months
Text
Later Never Comes
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Pairing: CEO!Silver-Fox!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: Your love for her knew no bounds, but there’s only so long you can hold on— only so many empty promises you can stand— before you finally have to let go. Before you finally realize that later may never become real.
Word Count: 4,779
Warnings: G!P Wanda, legal age gap, brief oral (R receiving), dirty (and slightly possessive) talk, mommy kink, slightly rough sex, neglect, and angst (with a bittersweet ending). 18+, Minors DNI.
Author’s Note: I know I promised a second part to Summertime Sadness and Time To Say (Goodbye), but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I hope you can forgive me!
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Great love always ends in tragedy.
That’s the saying, right? A stupid one if you had anything to say about it. What’s so great about love if it only ends in heartbreak? If you don’t end up with the person that makes your entire being thrum? If everything that had once been so colorful is suddenly black-and-white due to their absence?
Is the love great due to the story? To the emotions, the events, that occur throughout its long winded saga? Or is it great because it was doomed from the start? Because, even though it’d end one way, two people were still willing to fight the odds, to fight fate, even if they’d never end up winning.
You’re not sure, nor do you care, because there’s no way a love of that kind could be anything except terrible— except bone-chillingly agonizing in the way you’d have to figure out how to move on without it. Figure out how to be without the person that made everything make sense, that made you feel like the person you were always meant to be.
Even if it’s been years since you’ve seen her, years since you’ve felt her lips against yours, an elegantly lithe body pressed to your own, and the sweet scent of sandalwood and lavender mixed perfectly in your nose, you haven’t been able to figure that out. Haven’t been able to get her out of your system, no matter how much you may try.
How could you? When you’ve loved, and been loved by, Wanda Maximoff?
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[Past]
“I’m just saying she’s been interested to meet you since she saw our group picture from Fiji.” Your best friend, Agatha, relayed, jovially leading you towards the small, yet upscale, café that Wanda Maximoff— CEO of Scarlet Entertainment— agreed to meet you. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetie. Especially one that came about due to my own propensity to lose bets with that witch.”
Your brow furrows. “I’m just not sure what exactly this meeting is supposed to be about. I just graduated college, I barely have any experience under my belt.”
“But you have me as a mentor,” she rebukes, a small smirk on her lips. “And that’s all that you need to get into Wanda’s head.”
“Ah, yes.” You roll your eyes, amusement welling within your chest. “How could I forget about your age-old rivalry?”
“Don’t phrase it like that. Makes me sound old.” Agatha bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes narrowed.
“And mentor doesn’t?”
“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’. “That makes me sound wise.”
“And what does wisdom come from again?”
You’re just able to dodge the swat directed at your arm, a bright smile tugging your lips upward, as you finally enter the quaint café— the aromatic smell of coffee, a hint of cinnamon, and something slightly citrusy, hits you all at once. A combination that shouldn’t have worked as well it did.
Once you placed your order— a simple coffee with your usual additions— you turned back to Agatha with an expectant expression. “Anything I should know about this meetings, Ags?”
She shakes her head, tendrils of brown hair escaping the haphazard bun she had thrown them in. “You’re here.” Agatha hands you the drink the barista had just put beside you, a wane smile on her lips. “That’s the important part to achieve for any date.”
Your steps stutter, nearly causing you to trip into a nearby table. “W-What?” Widened eyes meet Agatha’s unaffected one, a certain level of calmness that you found irritating. “What do you mean date? I thought this was a meeting?”
Agatha waves her hand. “Lunch meeting, lunch date. Means the same thing in the end.” She shoulders her purse, clearly not planning on staying any longer than she has to. “You’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a catch. Maximoff would have to be a bigger idiot than I think she already is if she lets you go.”
Before you’re able to respond, Agatha places a chaste kiss to your cheek, offers one last cheeky wink, and saunters her way out of the café, leaving you completely alone. You’re honestly tempted to just abandon ship and get out of dodge— you weren’t good on dates, let alone blind dates. Something your best friend is well aware of, and would definitely be getting in an earful about this later.
However, before you’re able to make a concrete decision on your exit strategy, a husky voice speaks up from behind you.
“Are you Y/N?”
The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen stood in front of you when you turned around: long auburn hair, speckled with the beginning signs of gray, paired perfectly with the sharp emerald green of her gaze. An elegantly lithe body, encased in a form-fitting suit, tailored made to enhance every perfect curve, relaxed in a way that almost seemed arrogant— if it was for the confidence that exudes from her very being.
“Yes.” Your brain finally catches up with you, remembering the question she had asked. “Y/N.” You hold out your hand for her to shake. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
A small smile catches full lips, a slender hand grasping your own in a firm shake. “Wanda Maximoff.” Green eyes trail down your body. “And, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”
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The months that followed the blind date went by in a blur. You could honestly say that you’ve never met anyone else like Wanda Maximoff— a woman that personified ice and fire. Watching her work— whether it be as you’re lounged on her large leather sectional, laptop balanced on her lap as slender fingers gently stroke your back, or she’s pacing back and forth with her phone pressed to her ear; voice dripping with barely concealed annoyance, underlined by a calm collectiveness that never failed to make you swoon— was an art form in itself, but being able to see the woman that appeared at the end of the day?
Where an icy facade of professionalism melts into warm smile and gentle eyes. Sharp words being replaced by sweet nothings and gentle humming.
In Wanda’s arms you’ve found a place you never even knew you were missing— home. You had a couple relationships in the past, but none of them made you feel the way Wanda does; all paling in comparison to the beautiful Sokovian.
The one thing you hadn’t expected upon beginning to date the older woman was how insatiable she was— not that you were complaining— but Wanda needed to have you as often as she could. Taking you the bedroom of your apartment, the various rooms in her penthouse, in her office within Scarlet Entertainment, hell even in the back of a limo on the way to an event. Wanda needed to have you and you needed to have her right back.
Another little thing you’ve learned about her? Or, you should say, not so little? The Sokovian sported an extra appendage that had quickly become your new best friend— not that you were going to tell Agatha that— who seemed to want you as much as Wanda did.
Which is how you found yourself where you are now— on your back, thighs clamped around Wanda’s head, as she thoroughly ate you out on the couch of her office.
“Yes.” You arch sharply, a sob being torn from your throat as Wanda’s tongue plunges even deeper into you. Your girlfriend hums happily at the sound, the vibrations sending a shockwave across your clit, and another wave of wetness gushes out of you— something that Wanda is all too happy to lap up. She had told you on more than one occasion, after she spent hours upon hours between your thighs, that you beat out even the finest of wines to her. “Please. I need you.”
With clear reluctance to leave, Wanda pulls back and easily settles on top of you. Lips and chin shining lewdly in the dim lighting of her office, darkened emerald eyes sparkling even brighter.
“You taste great, detka.” She lowers her head, offering her tongue for you to suck on. Giving you a taste of yourself, mixed intoxicatingly with her own natural one. “Could spend hours eating up your perfect pussy, but that’s not what you want, huh?” She jerks her hips, rubbing her cock against your wetness. “You want mommy to be inside you, right? Want her to stretch you out and make you scream?” Another roll of her hips causes you to arch, a breathless gasp leaving you, but Wanda doesn’t relent. “Answer me, detka. Be my good girl and I’ll give you what you crave. What do you want mommy to do?”
“Fuck me.” The cry is practically wrenched from your chest, a deep felt plea for her to just plunge into you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that she hasn’t been able to accomplish that already. “I want you to slam your cock into my pussy and make me yours, mommy. I want your cock to make my pussy its own, to shape me in its image.”
A deep, almost rumbling, snarl erupts from Wanda in response, her hips snapping forward and you’re finally filled; stretched out so fucking perfectly, an obscene slurp echoed across the room the moment Wanda’s hips met your own. She hadn’t made you cum with her mouth, but you had been so close, she had given you a mini orgasm just by entering— a feat that brings a smug smile to Wanda’s lips.
“You feel that, detka.” She takes your hand and brings it down to the slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “That’s my cock ruining you for anyone else. No one will ever be able to fill you the way I do, make you scream yourself hoarse.” Wanda snaps her hips forward after a shallow pull-back, giving out a satisfied hum at the feeling of your slick walls pressed around her. “Your pussy belongs to me, your pleasure belongs to me, and you belong to me.”
Wanda lowers her head, lips pressed firmly to your own, giving you even more of a taste of yourself than before, as her tongue practically fucks your mouth while her cock fucks your pussy. When she detaches her lips from yours, only a thin trail of saliva is left, before she’s far enough away for it to snap.
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d be concerned about the noise level if Wanda hadn’t sent Peter, her assistant, home early— having planned to have you like this from the very moment she had invited you over.
“Just like that, mommy. Keep fucking me like that,” you babble, drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.
The tight contractions around her cock— as your second orgasm was much more powerful than your first— causes Wanda to groan, hips stuttering in their brutal pace. It’s clear that she was close, sweat slicked brow, causing strands of silver hair to cling to fair skin, but she obviously wanted you to come one last time— to be tossed over the edge with her.
With a shake breath, Wanda roughly brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, not even giving you time to fully get through the second. “One more, detka. You’ve got one more in you for mommy.” She dips her head, lips tenderly brushing across your forehead. “And when you come around mommy’s cock, I’m gonna fill you up like the good girl you are. Would you like that?”
You nod, practically whining. “Yes. Please.”
The older woman snarls once more, clearly affected by the look on your face, and, before you’re even aware of it, you’re crashing over the edge again— a cry of Wanda’s name passing over your lips as you spasm around her. Barely being able to catch Wanda’s own groan in response: “Yes.”
Jets of her cum paint your inner walls white, warming you up. It’s a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to— or want to get used to, if you’re being honest.
Once she’s spent, Wanda gently lowers herself onto your still slightly spasming body, lips pressed softly against your cheek. “You did so good. So perfect for me. My beautiful girl.”
You happily nuzzle into Wanda’s neck, eyes drooping out of contented exhaustion. “I love you.”
You’re too out of it to feel Wanda stiffen in surprise, or to really understand what you had just whispered, but you are aware of Wanda’s arms tightening around you, her lips pressing more firmly against your skin, as she cuddles you closer to her.
And, as you begin to drift off completely, happy in Wanda’s arms, you faintly feel Wanda exhale across the shell of your ear, a shaky breath, uncharacteristic for the older woman, before her soft voice breaks through the silence: “I love you too. More than I ever thought I’d love anyone.”
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[A Few Months Later…]
“How many do you want?”
It’s asked softly, one of Wanda’s hand gently running up-and-down your back in a soothing motion. Her lips pressed against the crown of your head, your face nuzzled against the crook of her neck, a place you don’t feel like leaving anytime soon.
“How many what?” You snuggle closer, delighted in the way her arms tighten instinctively. “I want a lot of things, Wands.”
Wanda huffs out a light chuckle. “Children, Y/N. How many children do you want?”
You stiffen in surprise at the question— Wanda hadn’t made it a secret that she didn’t plan on having kids. That she didn’t think she’d make a good mother due to her childhood and her busy lifestyle, but you also know that your girlfriend wouldn’t ask something unless she’s serious about the answer. Something you’ve figured out after all these months together. Regrettably, you pull your face away from the warm nest it had made so you’re able to look at her, and Wanda met your eyes calmly, sharp green softened in a way that’s only ever meant for you.
“What’s this about, Wanda?” You roll your lips, trying to process your next words carefully. “I thought you didn’t want kids?”
Emerald eyes flash warmly. “I didn’t want a lot of things, Y/N.” She easily tugs you back into her arms, lips pressed to your forehead. “But that was all before I met you.”
Touched by her words— and the clear sincerity within them— you decide to just bite the bullet, there wasn’t a point in delaying your answer. Especially if Wanda expected it.
“Two.” A gentle kiss is placed to her collarbone. “I want two boys. Twins.”
She breathes out another chuckle. “Twins, huh?” Maneuvering you both, you’re suddenly pressed against the mattress, Wanda hovering over you, smile still in place, with a familiar hardness nestled between your thighs. “That seems like something we’d have to get just right, correct?”
Even though it’s posed as question, you can tell that Wanda meant it rhetorically. That she already knew the answered you’d both settle on— an answer you always agreed upon.
Wiggling your hips, grinning mischievously at the sharp gasp that leaves Wanda’s lips at the added pressure, you throw your arms loosely around her neck.
“Yes.” You pull her closer, lips millimeters from her own. “I think it’s something we’re going to have practice quite a bit.”
Not needing any more prompting Wanda descends onto you with a ravenous hunger. One that you’re all too happy to match.
You can’t wait to experience your future if this is what’ll be waiting for you there.
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The phone is cold against your overheated flesh— a concoction of anger and disappointment courses through you like lava.
“Wanda—” You pinch the bridge of your nose to stem the tide of anger. “This is the eighth time this week alone. What the hell am I supposed to tell the caterers? Again.”
A soft sigh resounds through the speaker. “Just tell them that I won’t be able to make it, Y/N.” The response, in a clearly distracted tone, does little to ease your growing ire. “I know you’ll be able to handle it.”
“I don’t want to handle it, Wanda. This is our wedding, I’d like for you to also have a say in it.” From the time on the clock, you didn’t have much time left to leave the penthouse. Not if you wanted to get to the appointment on time. “I’ve been planning this entire thing by myself, I want your help. I want to hear your opinions. I want you.”
To care goes without words, but you’re certain it rings out just the same. You had been so happy when Wanda had suddenly proposed, seemingly out of the blue. Though wasn’t that the point? Taking you to a rooftop restaurant, which she had rented out, and offered you the rare chance of getting to taste her impeccable cooking; all dishes she had learned from her mother back in Sokovia. It had been a night you’d forever cherish, memories forever ingrained in your heart: the way the stars made the green in Wanda’s eyes sparkle more, the subtle wind allowing you to be surrounded by her comforting scent, the bright smile she had given you when she dropped down to one knee, and the happy laugh that had escaped her when you said yes. It had been a fairytale, everything you had ever wanted.
Until you realized your Disney fairytale was beginning to turn into Brothers Grimm.
“You have me, Y/N.” Wanda lets out another sigh. “Look, I can’t keep talking the investors for the meeting just arrived and I need to get prepared. I promise that I’ll go over everything you discuss later, okay? I love you.”
“Wanda—”
You’re only met with the sound of the dial tone, barely getting the chance to reply before being hung up on, and the familiar aching sense of silence that follows— a hollow sound that distantly reminded you of what your heart has become.
It hadn’t always been like this. The penthouse, upon your first visit, had been cold, lifeless in a way that seemed almost inhuman, but slowly it had livened up— been filled with a sense of warmth and peace. Of love. It had been a place you could go to when you just needed an escape from the rest of the world, when you needed to be surrounded by things that remind you of the woman you love.
Now it’s suffocating in a way that you never wished for it to be.
You’re aware that Wanda is a busy woman— had been aware of it before your first date occurred— but she had always at least tried to be there. Always left you feeling like you were at least on the list of things that mattered, you didn’t necessarily need to be at the direct top; not when she had so many things to content with already. But, you’ve felt like nothing more than an afterthought lately.
Gentle kisses in the morning turned to brief parting words as she made her way quickly out the door.
Soft smiles, and inside jokes, turned to barely there quirks of full lips, and stretched out silences.
The warmth of her hold, the safety you felt from her touch, turned to an icy chill as she left you to the cold air— you don’t even remember when the last time was that you had been together properly. Since you had woken up in her arms.
You didn’t need a lot, you didn’t need all of her time, but you wanted to feel like you still mattered— that everything you have isn’t just another thing Wanda had marked off on her checklist of things to do before she turns 55.
Checking the time, a small curse leaves your lips once you realize that you’re going to be late, and, with one final glance towards the empty penthouse, you make your way out the door— hoping that the growing chill you feel isn’t indicative of a love grown cold.
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Silence had become your greatest friend in the weeks that followed. The one thing that you’ve grown to count on as Wanda’s schedule only seemed to get busier and busier— hell, your relationship with her personal assistant had grown to the point that he’s been calling you by your first name now. Instead of the usually nervous ma’am or Ms. L/N.
Wedding appointments had come and gone, all of them spent alone, with Wanda barely perusing the choices that had been made before crashing out of sheer exhaustion. Conversation had grown stilted due to her own growing ire at you consistent worry— although she labeled it as nagging. That she’s been running her business for over thirty years, and she’s been doing fine.
Even now, on New Years Eve, as the clock moved ever closer to midnight, you were completely alone— expansive shadows, that seemed darker somehow, stretched out towards you like ghastly fingers, trying to tear whatever semblance of comfort you’ve found away. You’re not sure what you had been expecting, not even sure if you’d truly believed that Wanda would show herself, but you can’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped.
Hoped that today, of all days, would be different. That you wouldn’t feel like a stranger, an intruder, within your own life, within your own home.
Fanciful musings and hopes of a lovestruck fool.
The small chirp of an incoming message pulls you from your reverie, a bright smile appearing instantly at the sight of who it’s from, before withering away once you read it: Sorry, I won’t be able to make it home tonight. Going to the Hamptons to meet some new business partners. I promise I’ll make it up to you later. I love you.
You don’t bother to send a message back— what could you possibly say? Yet another promise had been thrown to the wayside by the older woman. Even if it was just a cursory, and unspoken, one being as simple as not leaving your fiancé alone on New Years. Or waiting until the last minute to actually say anything about it.
A soft sigh escapes your lips, an acidic twang settling over your tongue, as bitterness seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning your heart and soul. You knew what you needed to do, have known since this had become your new normal, but hadn’t had the strength, or the courage, to make it a reality. Until now.
Until the heartbreak, the suffering, has become as close of a friend to you as the oppressive silence.
And, as the door to the penthouse gently closed behind you, never to be opened by your hand again, you feel a sense of bone-deep sorrow settle over you. For everything that could have been, for what you had hoped for, and all that you now had to live without. You could just step back inside, hide or destroy the letter, and Wanda would never know. She’d never find out how close you had been to giving up, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so. Could no longer gather up the power to keep fighting for something that’s been lost long ago— no matter how much your heart screams at it not being true.
Tears gather in your eyes as you take another step away from the door, away from the place you’ve lived in for the last two years, and your heart breaks with every step. But, it breaks even more at the knowledge that you were leaving your true home behind too— that doing this would destroy everything you have with Wanda, never to be salvaged. The penthouse may be expensive, and it may be beautiful, but it’d never be home to you like Wanda; it’d never offer you the same feeling of protection like her arms did.
You’ve been shut out of your home for months now, and being left out in the cold has finally frozen your heart enough for you to be able to do this. No matter how much more it was going to hurt once it thaws once more.
Shouldering your duffel bag, the only thing you’ve allowed yourself to bring, you step into the private elevator and press the button for the lobby. Hands tightening around the strap of the bag, trying to ignore the way your ring finger no longer felt the familiar press of metal against it as you do so.
It was time to look forward, to finally make your own laters, the things you had been pushing off, become an actuality.
Even if you wanted nothing more than to have never needed to say goodbye to Wanda Maximoff in the first place.
Losing the ring was one thing, but losing the love of your life?
It’s a wound you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to recover from.
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[Present]
“Mom?” The small voice catches your attention, your eyes focused back in to see bright eyes, twin grins being sported between the pair. “Can we still get hot chocolate?”
Billy and Tommy had come into your life when you needed them to most— a blessing that you’d definitely been searching for after everything imploded with Wanda. And, even if how they were conceived didn’t lend itself to a happy tale, you’d never change a thing. They were your twin miracles. Your beautiful baby boys— even if they were eight years old now.
“I thought you decided to get caramel popcorn instead?” You poke Billy’s side gently, delighted in the giggle the actions caused. “That’s what you both told me at the theater.”
Tommy’s eyes widened dramatically, in full puppy-dog mode. “But that was before you took us past our favorite store.” He points to the small café only a few feet away— one that you frequented with the twins when you could find the time. A place that you hadn’t even realized you’d be leading them towards. “Can we please get hot chocolate.”
The twins chime in unison: “Please.”
You chance a glance towards the café— deliberating your options— but you know that you’re going to cave. After all, the reason you had gone to the movies was to celebrate their stellar report cards. What harm could some extra hot chocolate do?
So, with a faux long-suffering sigh, you relent. “I suppose.”
“Yes!” Twin cheers are your immediate response, brightening the smile on your lips, and you soon find yourself in the quaint café— one that held so many memories for you. Phantoms of your past the whispered in your ear as you placed your order and directed your boys to their usual spot.
Only half-listening to their chatter about the movie you had just seen— some superhero film— you simply bask in the simplicity their joy brought you. Observing their small faces light up, little hands waving around as they discussed various points, and your heart swells with more love than you ever thought you could feel.
“—What did you think, mom?”
Billy’s sudden question tears you from your musings, his widened eyes, alight with excitement, giving you the impression that he really wanted to hear what you thought.
“About the movie?” They both nod. “I thought it was good, bug.”
Tommy pouts. “Yeah, but what did you like most about it? Did you have a favorite scene?”
“I—”
“Order for Y/N.”
Saved by the bell, you think. A wave of relief crashing over you. “You two stay put.” Standing, you ruffle their hair. “I’ll be right back with our drinks.”
At the prospect of their hot chocolate they don’t seem to mind that you didn’t answer their question— though you’d certain Tommy would ask you again. Though you’d have more than enough time to google some things about the movie before then. Small miracles.
Stopping at the counter, you take the tray with the drinks with a smile and a nod in greeting to the server you’ve grown quite fond of.
“Y/N?”
Breath catching in your throat at the husky voice sounding out behind you, the cadence and tone so familiar that your heart still burns from it. Hesitating only slightly, you turn and meet the shimmering emerald eyes you haven’t seen in a little over eight years. Her face still as beautiful as you’d last seen it, if a bit older now.
“Wanda.”
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parkermunson · 1 year
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Something New
Summary: Eddie tells you he wants to try something new, but so do you. [1.5k]
T/W: Smut!!! [18+ only!!!!!], Choking, Handjob, Switch Eddie, Fem reader
A/N: Another choking fic??? Hell yeah.
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The room was quiet around you. The seconds turning into anxious minutes that felt like deadly hours. Each moment waiting was another wasted second. He was probably doing this on purpose, building your emotions so far up you'll be unquestionably obedient by the time he opens the door. The silence filling the space around you was deafening, the blood pumping in your ears getting louder with each heartbeat.
You couldn't play into his game, you won't. He wants to "try something different," then that's what you'll do. But it will be your way. You've waited weeks to build up the confidence, months of preparation and research, most of which was just memorizing every move he made.
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The footsteps in the hallway were almost too quiet to hear if there were any other sounds to be heard. His eyes peering in the crack in the door looked like glowing orbs from a wolf waiting to devour its prey. He stuck his tongue between his teeth as he opened the door with a smile. "Think I've made you wait long enough...," his voice gravelly and deep. The smile turned venomous, his sultry charm immediately giving way to his dominance. He drew closer to your sitting position on the bed, a ringed finger gliding up your jawline to your cheekbone. Your body was quickly becoming jelly under his height. "Tonight... I want to see how many times I can make you cum before you use your safe word." You could feel your insides flutter, the thought alone sent warmth and wetness to your cunt.
"Actually," your voice shook and your cheeks reddened at the lack of confidence, "I want to try something different."
"Oh?" His eyes widened at you, waiting on your words. The few ideas you brought up became staples in the bedroom. It was you who suggested using handcuffs the first time, and now they were basically a part of your wardrobe behind closed doors.
"Yeah," the nerves finally subsiding. Your voice sounded like honey with the new found confidence bubbling inside you, making your body move of its own accord. You sat up from the bed, moving to stand beside him. He was still taller, but the look in his eyes flickered at this sudden change. Your fingers travelled up his sides to the collar of his shirt, the gentle touch sending chills through him. His eyes bore into yours, an unspoken challenge of power. You held his gaze, unwavering. "Strip."
The twitch in his eye presented his internal battle. He's never been told what to do by a partner. He was always in charge. But the way his cock kicked at your command told him this was worth trying.
Just when you thought he was about to put up a fight, he grabbed at his shirt, ripping it over his head and moving down to fumble with his belt before his shirt even hit the floor. His jeans and boxers fell in a heap around his ankles, the belt thumping against the floor below. He stepped out the pile, leaving his hands in fists at his sides, waiting on the next order. "Sit," you commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed without hesitance. The man who took control so easily, fell into the role of servant just as fast.
You placed a hand on the sheets next to his hip as you leaned over him, your lips just barely grazing his. "Tonight, I'm in control, and you're going to shut the fuck up. Got it?" He nodded slowly, his lower lip falling prisoner to his teeth. There were no thoughts of switching the situation on you. He was at your mercy, and all it took was a few simple words. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and something else you couldn't quite place. You knew Eddie well, but this was something new. Intimidation, perhaps?
Your other hand walked your fingers up his bare thigh starting at his knee. He didn't dare break eye contact as much as he wanted to. The closer your fingertips got to his aching cock, the harder he bit on his lip. His fingers rubbed the sheets below him, the pace growing quicker the closer you got to the location you both desired. Finally, your fingers reached his hip. The soft skin a milky white, flushed with his need. You waited a moment, giving him the same treatment he gave you earlier. The silence still brimming around you, ringing in both your ears, only cut by Eddie's heavy breath.
Then you gripped his base, a small grunt rumbling through his chest. You kept your grip firm as you slid your hand up to his tip. His eyelids fluttered. The arm holding your weight up pushed his shoulder, and he fell against the mattress with little effort. He almost looked boneless, putty in your hands. You spit onto his cock, the saliva pooling on his tip and gliding down his length. Your hand gripped him again, tugging with little friction. "I should challenge you tonight. See how many times I can make you cum before you use your safeword." You smirked up at his scrunched up face. He was enjoying this more than he thought.
Your hand quickened on his length, your wrist twisting at his tip. With each flick of your thumb against the underside of his mushroom tip, he jolted against the bed. The sweat forming on his hairline matted his curls and shined against the lights. His chest was blooming pink, the blood rushing to the surface in his neck. He was gripping the sheets beneath so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. The crease in his brows and the little whimpers escaping him fueled your fire. You climbed over him, straddling his thighs, wanting to feel them shake beneath you. His lip was caught between his teeth again, holding his sounds captive.
It was now or never. You placed your unoccupied hand against his neck, pushing with small effort. His mouth fell open at the new sensation. Your other hand never faltering, merely speeding up its pace. A choked out moan vibrates beneath your fingers, causing you to squeeze just a bit harder. He tilts his head back, giving more space to your hand on his neck. The schlick schlick sound of your hand gliding over him echoed around the room, flooding your cunt with desire. You were on your knees over him, your weight resting on his windpipe as your other hand glided over his cock.
A deep inhale and his eyes rolling back were the first cues before he exploded on his stomach, his juices squirting halfway up his torso. The muscles in his belly so flexed you could see them moving underneath his skin. His mouth was open in a silent moan, his fingers gripping the sheets so hard they were on the verge of ripping. You continued your ministrations against him, waiting for his cock to slow down but the fluid keeps coming, covering his stomach in splotches of white. He's shuddering beneath you, jolting with each inhale. Your fist continues until he's finally spent. His stomach covered in his release, threatening to drip to the sheets below.
You release his neck and he inhales deeply, a small chuckle released at the lack of feeling in his muscles. He's never cum so hard or so long in his life. He could've sworn he left his body for a second there.
Waiting for him to catch his breath, you kneeled over him, watching as he returned back to Earth with a deep flush on his cheeks. It was clear he was a goner for the rest of the night. His body still quivering with the aftershocks. He would do anything to have you dom him again after tonight.
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mommypieck · 10 months
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What about threesome w Levi and Erwin
this was requested a lot of times
you sigh when your sword drops again, the pain in your hand still not decreasing. you look around, trying to see if anyone saw you. all of the other trainees are fighting, not caring about you but your gaze falls on the commander who's watching you intensively.
"oh shit," you think to yourself. you try to pick up the sword again but your wrist remains limp. you know it's not a big deal but now that commander saw it, you might get into trouble.
"is everything alright?" erwin asks, looking worried. you know that commander cares a lot about his soldiers but that he's also strict about their abilities.
"just a sore wrist." you reply. you hope that it will brush erwin off but your face falls as he tells you to follow him. he takes you into his office. you sit there, watching him as he searches in the first-aid box. he comes back seconds later, carrying a bandage. he carefully puts it on your wrist, stroking it as he does so.
"i wouldn't sleep if i knew that the prettiest trainee is hurting."
"what?"
"you've heard me."
one of his hands still holds your wrist while his other sets on your thigh. you feel high, not knowing how to react.
"how about you take care of something of mine?" he asks and you can just dumbly nod. his gaze makes you feel butterflies.
"get on your knees." he orders and you do so. you can feel your heart racing as he undoes his belt, pulling his cock out. you eyes widen at the size but it's also understandable that a commander like this is going to have a big cock. you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it. you kiss the tip of his cock, making his moan. you smile at his, loving the noises he makes. you take him into your mouth, stroking the rest that doesn't fit.
"your hand seems completely fine." erwin says, getting your hair as he urges you to continue sucking. you take him deeper into your mouth, gagging at his size, making erwin let out a satisfied groan. you feel your panties get wet at the expression he gives you. you've always found his attractive and now that he's towering over you, makes you submit to him even more.
"just like that, good girl." his praises are like honey to your ears and you wish to hear them all the time.
"is she good?" your eyes shoot up to levi who's standing in the door. you quickly pull off erwin's cock, coveting your face in hopes of levi not recognizing you. erwin has other plans tho as he pulls you on his cock again.
"be a good girl." he whispers to you, completely ignoring levi. you don't know where to look and your eyes twitch to levi every few seconds.
"erwin, can you explain what's going on?" levi asks, this time more annoyingly.
"she's fucking me off." erwin replies bluntly. you don't know what's going and you can't tell anything from the looks they're giving one another. you've heard about the history between levi and erwin but this is completely different.
"and is she good at it?" levi's question coughs you off guard. levi stands behind you, pulling down your pants.
"she's fucking soaked." he moans, his fingers probing at your slit. he gathers your wetness on his fingers before slipping them inside of you. you moan, trying to get his fingers deeper inside of you.
"stay still, whore." he orders, pulling his fingers from you and replacing them with his cock. your back arches as he slips inside of you. it's been a while since someone was inside of you and the stretch is surely there.
"what? can't take it?" he chuckles and you only reply with a moan. he starts fucking you slowly, teasing you with the thrusts. erwin starts thrusting inside of your mouth unexpectedly, making you choke. levi uses your distraction to speed up his thrusts.
your body shakes under their thrusts as they use your body. neither of them are soft and you love it. none of your boyfriends never treated you like them.
erwin tugs at your hair, urging you to deep throat him. you take a deep breath, taking his whole cock into your mouth, your nose meeting his skin. levi spreads your cheeks apart, watching himself slip in and out of you. every single one of his thrusts hits your sweet spot and you can't help but to think about how experienced he is. it's almost like they planned for this to happen.
"you're a good girl. you're gonna swallow, right?" erwin asks, stroking your cheek. you nod enthusiastically. it takes few swipes of your tongue before he's cumming inside of your mouth. you swallow everything as you promised, showing him your mouth empty mouth. levi groans at your gesture, speeding up his thrusts. you can feel yourself on the verge of cumming and it takes one sharp thrust to bring you over the edge. the squeeze of your pussy makes levi groan and pull out. he cums on your back, staining your uniform. you lay on the ground panting, looking at the two man who look at you with a smile.
"get up and don't dare to say something." levi says, bursting out of the door. erwin just chuckles at his, kneeling beside you.
"you good?" he asks and you nod your hair.
"good. i think im gonna keep you."
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Note
hi, could you do a x reader oneshot on live action Roronoa Zoro from the live action One Piece series!
Roronoa Zoro x reader oneshot (Netflix live action)
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Summary: you tend to Zoro's wounds after he is hurt on a fight
Warnings: cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions of blood, me pretending to understand medical matters 🤡 (sorry about that, it was for fangirling purposes only ajskajakja)
A/n: hello anon! Thanks a lot for the request 🥰 this is probably set after s1? Sorry for any plot or grammar mistakes 🙏🏻 i hope you like it 🩷
The salty sea breeze hit your skin as you looked out the Going Merry trying to spot your friends.
The straw hats had left to a village to try to confront another crew. Apparently another annoying guy was threatening Luffy and he was not going to let that pass. It was stupid, you thought, but, when Luffy had something in mind, absolutely no one could convince him otherwise.
Luffy had asked you to stay on the ship in case anything happened. Being the crew's doctor, you had to be prepared for any emergency regarding the crew's well being.
Yep, you were the doctor in the straw hats crew.
You had met when Luffy saw you helping hurt people in the middle of a fight at the small island you lived. He was so impressed at how good you were, how you helped everyone with ability but also with a kindness in your eyes that he had never seen before in anyone.
Having lived your entire life with your doctor grandparents, you had learned from them and was just as skilled as them, so you were always ready to help those who needed.
But you were also a dreamer and wanted to go around the world meeting new people and new places, so when Luffy asked you to join his crew you happily said yes.
- we already have a navigator, a cook... we could use a talented doctor like you. I just know it's you. So, what do you say? - he asked, with that excited smile of his.
And that's how you became a part of this special crew. Everyone was so nice to you, so it didn't take much time for you to get along with them all, specially with their cute swordsman.
Yeah, it was like you clicked. You started getting closer, closer... and before you knew you were dating.
That's why you were specially worried today. You were really afraid your boyfriend was going to do something stupid and get himself hurt again (you still had nightmares about the whole Mihawk thing).
You were lost in your thoughts when you heard your friends coming back to the ship. You immediatly ran to check on them.
- is everyone okay? - you asked worried.
- we're fine, we were lucky. Can't say the same about your man over there - Sanji said and your heart dropped. What did this stubborn do this time?
- shut up, Sanji, i'm fine - you heard Zoro say as he entered the ship too.
You ran to him doing a quick check up with your eyes. That's when you noticed the big red stain on the side of his shirt.
- oh my gosh, Zoro, you're bleeding! - you said terrified.
- this? Nah, this is just a scratch - he said shrugging and trying to play tough, even though you could clearly see he was in pain.
- no, it's not! - you said, in a stern way - come on, we have to bandage you up.
You carefully led him inside and brought your medical kit to start tending to his wounds. He sat down as you began.
- take your shirt off - you ordered.
- Wow you're that eager, huh? - he said smirking, but instantly regretting and wincing with pain.
- Zoro! Will you stop being a brat and let me take care of you? - you said angrily - i can see you're in pain and you're not going anywhere until we fix that up!
You were usually a very chill person, but you couldn't stand seeing your friends and loved ones in pain. That activated a side of you people were even a bit scared of lol
- okay, boss - he said, a bit annoyed but finally giving up.
The way he called you 'boss' made you feel all tingly inside. You were sure going to have to talk to him about it later (and maybe share some ideas 👀) but now it wasn't the time. You had a wound to treat.
He took his shirt off and you couldn't help but take in a sharp breath at the sight (even though you had seen it before lol). Boy was sure shredded.
Focus, (Y/N).
You checked him and noticed he had a knife wound just above his hip. It was ugly, but you could do it.
You grabbed a piece of cloth to start cleaning the wound.
- my love, i apologize in advance, but this is going to hurt.
You started the cleaning.
- shit, that hurts! - he hissed.
- i know, i'm sorry.
You knew you had to do it, but you couldn't stand seeing the man you loved suffering like that. You had to distract him out of it so you could finish your work.
- umm baby, could you tell me again about that time you beat three pirates at once with only one sword?
- what? Now? Why? - he looked so cute furrowing his brows in confusion.
- it's just that... i like to work listening to your voice - you quickly made that up lol
Well, it wasn't totally a lie, you did enjoy listening to his voice, but of course it was mostly to keep him distracted ajskjakaja
He was still a bit suspicious but started telling the story since you asked him (trust me, there was nothing you asked Zoro he wouldn't do for you). Your strategy worked cause you cleaned the wound and bandaged it without him wincing too much.
By the time he finished the story, you had finished your work too. You also gave him some painkillers for him to feel better soon.
- there you go - you said softly and kissed his forehead.
He closed his eyes and melted under your touch, not only because of how tired he was, but also because he felt super safe with you.
- thank you, (Y/N) - he said squeezing your hand.
You smiled at him.
- now please lay down and try to rest a bit, or this thing won't heal - you said in a stern tone, but nearly begging for your boyfriend to take care of himself.
You gathered your medical stuff and were starting to leave the room when he said:
- (Y/N), wait!
- what is it? - you asked, worried he was starting to feel pain again.
- I... I might not be feeling 100% yet. I think you should stay and lay down with me just in case it gets worse - he said in a really nonchalant way.
You rolled your eyes at his completely obvious attempt, but couldn't help smiling and blushing a bit at the thought of the great Roronoa Zoro wanting you to stay with him.
- you're the worst, Zoro - you said playfully as you carefully laid down next to him and put your hand on his chest.
- yeah, but you love me - he replied with that smug smile of his and that deep voice that drove you crazy.
You chuckled at his response.
- yes, I do - you said smiling.
His next words came out merely a whisper, but were enough to give you a thousand butterflies in your stomach:
- and I love you more.
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mvltisstuff · 10 months
Note
Evan Buckley & female reader - a fic where instead of the firetruck crushing buck’s leg, it crushes the reader’s leg instead and the reader is in the firetruck when it explodes and Buck & reader have been engaged for 2 years. Buck is worried and scared and panics when he sees the reader underneath the truck. He helps her through the physical therapy of getting back her leg strength and helps her through how she is told she may not be able to be a firefighter again.
lots of angst, heartbreak, sadness, anger, fluff too 💙
love ur 911 fics so much ❤️‍🩹
are you with me - e.b
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summary: request
evan buckley x reader
a/n: i’m so happy you guys like my fics, i have plenty coming your way soon 🩶 btw this started off pretty strong and idk what happened toward the end w the quality
it’s never realized how much calamity one person can cause in such a large city. people get in their cars to go to work, they order a package, they stop at the store, and the last thing they expect is an explosion right at their feet.
over three million people in los angeles, and one forced 30 tons of weight onto y/n’s leg. it was just work. something she does every single day. of course, nothing in life ever remains the same, but this is really something you can never expect. you watch it in movies, or you hear about it in the news, only until it happens to you.
she knew the bones in her leg were crushed upon the impact, the engine thrown on its side. buck watched from a distance, being held back by the police. he would do anything for her. he wanted to tear this kid to shreds. he saw y/n’s broken leg under the truck and her head weakly lifting up. he could almost hear the pained gasps and whimpers from her lips. y/n, on the other hand, felt like she was in the center of the ring, the joke of this kid.
all the bystanders watched the scene unfold, the boy trying to summon the captain of the 118. it felt unreal. the noise and the truck shaking the ground they walked on.
buck thought he hallucinated the sparkling ring on y/n’s hand, somehow managing to remind him of the fight he was about to do. he vividly remembers the day he got down on his knee, bargaining the rest of his life to her and crying when she said yes. the whole team had been there, watching from a distance as her hand covered her mouth and lifted him from the floor. their wedding was being planned, every last detail needing to be perfect for the couple.
most people’s instinct would be to run away, but buck wanted to run toward the chaos. if y/n was there, so was he. his life mission has been to keep her safe, and knowing someone went out of his way to hurt her makes him go crazy. the exact moment that freddie was taken down with his overcomplicated vest, buck found himself running to her. he instantly fell onto his knees, seeing the ash and tears on her face close up.
she wished she couldn’t feel it, but she felt every part of it. she didn’t know anything. was her leg even connected to her anymore? buck moved himself closer to her so she could hear him over the murmuring of watchers.
“hey! hey, y/n,” he starts.
“it h-hurts so bad,” she whines, making him grimace himself.
“son of a bitch, ok. we’re gonna get you out of there, yeah?”
“please,” she begs, almost inaudible. buck stands up, calling for anyone he can to lift the truck off her, which was almost impossible with a few people around. hen was on the ground, connecting machines to y/n’s harmed figure.
“hang in there, y/n/n,” she says softly. “we’ve got you.”
despite his entire body weight being used to lift the ladder engine, it didn’t budge once. the only thing it did was echo the raw screams from y/n, poisoning bucks ears making his heart speed up. the adrenaline pumping through his system was making him think he could do it.
“do you have anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” eddie asks to a panicked bobby, trying to save one of his workers and best friends.
“it’s too heavy, it wouldn’t work,” bobby says as a light goes off in bucks head.
“more people,” he mumbles. “we need more people! hey! all of you, get over here and lift this!” he shouts at the mob of people observing the accident. not hesitating, the civilians sprint over and grab onto any part of the truck that they can.
y/n was in grievous pain, dreading the agony that would come when they finally lifted it. she was right, it was tormenting, releasing shrieks she didn’t know she had. before she could rethink everything, she was tugged from under and flipped onto her back. buck couldn’t peel his gaze away from the blood that has completely stained her pant leg and the parts of her leg that should be inside of it. complete shock and fear took over his body, but not enough to stand there with her the whole time. he watched chimney and hen bandage up her leg and move her into the ambulance, where buck sat next to her. hen was in the back with him, chim being the designated driver. unfortunately, y/n had been awake for the entire experience. from the second the engine flipped, to the second she was lifted into the ambulance. as much buck was grateful that she was awake, he almost wanted her to pass out. she wouldn’t have to endure this much pain, despite the morphine kicking in.
y/n’s hand twitched in bucks, “buck?” she grumbles out.
“y/n,” he makes note of her panicked state. “i’m here, you’re ok. i’m not going anywhere, honey.”
“someone should tell the city that we need a n-new truck,” buck laughs at her mind and how it works before running a hand through her hair.
“you don’t have to worry about that,” says buck. “you have no idea how relieved i am that you’re ok.”
“we’re getting married soon,” she realizes. “shit, we were supposed to get married soon-“
“shh, it’s all gonna work out, ok?” buck reassures. “i’d marry you no matter what, broken leg or not.”
“promise?”
“i promise.”
the hours sitting in the waiting room were grueling. maddie had left to be with buck, watching the entire scene go down on the news. even her heart ached, watching someone she already considers family have to face something like this. the whole team was anxiously waiting for the surgeon to come out and say she’d be ok. she held them together like a true family, being the most stable relationship they had. she was the part of the station that made their bond unbreakable. watching her vulnerable condition under that truck was almost intolerable. the time that she wasn’t in work felt like a missing puzzle piece.
weeks had passed since the bombings of LA, and buck had been there every single day. in sickness and in health, he hasn’t said the words out loud, but he swore to that since the day he met her. he knows that she would do the same exact thing for him, and he would spend every single day helping her.
y/n felt completely isolated in their small apartment, barely being able to leave the first floor. she craved work, she desperately awaited the day that she could return, but the injury in her leg hadn’t resolved. no matter how many times she tried to convince herself, she didn’t know if she’d ever be a firefighter again. at some point, she almost envied her fiancé for being able to go to work. he felt so bad for her, just wanting to give her her life back. the weekly doctors appointments were draining her of almost everything she had, every single one proving nothing. nothing that meant anything. the situation was completely out of anyone’s control, and she had consumed so much anger about it. anger at the doctors, the therapists, the kid, the 118, everyone around her.
buck was forced to sit back and watch, to act as a shoulder to cry on. he was the third crutch, the person she leaned on when she couldn’t stand on her own. there was no way in hell she could’ve done it alone. buck was the one to drive her to every appointment and helped carry some of the burden.
at the end of the day, there were two things that scared y/n the most. losing buck and losing her job. the two things that got her out of bed and the two things that gave her a true meaning. as time passed and every request to be back at work was denied, she swore her heart hurt more than her leg.
“y/n?” buck called out after arriving back home. she had been on the couch, watching another drama series about firefighters. “hi, how are you doing?” he asked when spotting her in the living room. she didn’t respond, just looked at the television with the volume low. he went and sat next to her.
“what’s wrong? did something happen?”
her eyes had already been bothered from tears of anger and frustration, and he could clearly see that with his own. “they called again.”
“wasn’t the answer you wanted?”
“i have been pushing myself every day for approval, and i have not gotten anything for it,” she says, dryly. “i have been killing myself to go back to what i love and why am i not getting anything?” her voice cracks.
“listen,” he tries to distract her from her own negativity and forces her to look at him. “i know you’ve heard this a million times, but you have to let yourself take the time to heal. if you go back too soon, you’re going to make it worse.”
her nose scrunches at bucks words, causing her to sniffle as he continues. “i know, it sucks, and i am so, so sorry. it’s just that none of us want to see you do more harm than good. we need you back as a firefighter, but i need you back to normal first. you’re worth so much more than this, and this injury is not going to take you out, we all know it.”
y/n opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides the small beginning of a word. she knows he’s right, but having to come to terms with that is the hardest part of it all. she begins to cry lightly again, her face in her hands as she leans forward. buck slides over, wrapping his arms around his distressed fiancé.
y/n took bucks advice, and now, she stands in the entrance of the firehouse. she walks in to see her uniform waiting for her in her cabinet, her gear untouched, and it feels like she was here yesterday. she feels at home here. buck follows her in, grabbing her hand and they restart the rest of their lives.
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ssparksflyy · 5 months
Text
piper mclean dating hcs !
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pairing : piper mclean x gn!reader warnings : grammar and speling mistakes, cursing ( whoops ! ) a/n : ty soooo much for all the love on my percy hcs <3 im currently working on a small annabeth fic that i keep putting off.. yikes. i want to try and update atleast once each week, but pls forgive mee, my family's got a busy schedule, and finals r coming up </3 also IK IK piper's aesthetic isn't too beach-y, but, i adore aphrodite's semi-connection with the ocean so pls forgive me (again, wow second time in one a/n)
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piper mclean ily pls marry me
piper is SUCH a sweetie to u &lt;33
that sounded weird- sweetie? is it sweetie? idk
this girl LOVES to spoil u
we all know she's loaded af bcs of her dad
and girlie just adores spending money on things she loves
( aka you )
piper doesn't gaf about the thousands of times you've told her that it really wasn't necessary, and she didn't have to get you anything
she'll do it anyway cause she knows you'll give her a big ol' kiss right after &lt;33
of course, piper'll buy you things that she knows you like or have had you eye on
but she'll also buy you things that'll remind you of her
allow me to explain
say, you don't like hello kitty / it just isn't something you pay attention to
( everybody moved on, i stayed there. page 5. annabeth's pov. mark of athena. "today she was dressed in tattered jeans, worn out sneakers, and a white tank top with pink hello kitty designs." dont play w me )
anyway, say you don't like hello kitty, piper'll still buy you like a tiny plushie or keychain that u can carry wherever, and it'll remind you of her
she also buys herself things that u like, so she can also get reminded of u !
speaking of buying things, piper has all of your favorite colors ( ur lying if u say u only have one ), favorite snacks, fast food orders, and alllll of your preferences down and memorized in her brain
but just in case she also has them down on a small notepad she carries in her bag
movin on, piper adores kissing you omg
she's always peppering you face with quick little kisses
nd then when she stops, she'll just stand there, leaning her cheek towards you bcs she wants kisses too
piper'll kiss you at the most random times
lets be real this girl does not give 2 fucks about pda, she's with her #1, got a problem with it?
so she'll just sneak up behind you, spin you around nd give u a kiss
she's so cute i love her
now
say you were a little nervous about dating piper, bcs yk, many children of aphrodite want their rite of passage, nd she can charmspeak
piper will literally do anything it take for u to trust her completely
i don't think she'd exactly be hurt if u didn't trust her completely in the beginning of your relationship, like, she gets it, but she'd still want to try and solve that asap
she'd literally never use her charmspeak on you unless she HAS to
like say you were gonna do something really stupid that could hurt you
example a : stealing a blue cookie from percy
( idfk bro )
girl would tell you to either put it back or dispose of all evidence befor eyou get smacked in the face with a hurricane
she's js looking out for u ya know
piper's hav hobby is spending time with you
if you tell her that's not a hobby she'll straight up pull out her claim evidence and reasoning
( can u tell english is kicking my ass rn )
she loves cuddling in the aphrodite cabin, as a way to be like "HAH yall wish you could have thisss" to her jerk siblings *cough* DREW
piper likes trying different things, i feel like she'd be really crafty ngl
like she'll LOVE making matching frinedship bracelets for u
and im talking like NICE ones like she's got soo many beads omg
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js an example ^^
and ofc she'll want to teach u how to make fancy wavy ones yk
her love language is definitely quality time fight me
in summary, if ur looking for a hot, adorable, trustworthy, affectionate, caring, sweet, spoils u, mrs. treat ! you ! right! , piper's the one for youuuuu !!
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a/n pt. 2 : hii! hope u enjoyed this but omg i feel like its kinda short and all i did was ramble abt random stuff in this one ahhh srry
ALSO tumblr WHY won't you let me do a little heart like how much pain would it CAUSE YOU someone make a petition pls
once again, lmk if u want a part 2 to this! currently working on an annabeth fic but after that i think i'll cook up some more percy hcs
speaking of percy, once again again, TYSM for all the love on that, tbh, i thought it was gonna flop but then tumblr was all like "holy moly ssparksflyy! you've reached 100 likes!" and i was like WHAT anyway ilysm and ty for listening to me yap <3
thats all for now! wishing u a wonderful day / night !
peace from manhattan,
percy jackson
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Hi! Imma do something rare and actually make content, but its 11 at night and i just had a brain worm
for those of you that don’t know, i work at an accounting office. we do taxes. it is tax season. and now im thinking abt how AGSZC does taxes and what their papers are like and im inflicting it on the rest of you even if its gibberish
Angeal: A godsend. Keeps his forms in order and filed properly, calculates everything else himself like a good man. Papers honestly aren’t too bad, maybe 10-12 just because of his career/insurance plus his doubtless donations to charity, but aside from that. straightforward and done at his kitchen table
Genesis: A fucking NIGHTMARE. no doubt pays someone else to do it. and for fucks sake, i know he invests. constantly and consistently and probably in anything he thinks stands the slightest chance against shinra on the market. his 1099-B is a mess and definitely Not Totaled, so his is the bullshit you have to insert one. investment. at. a time. He’s the type that keeps fucking calling too, I can just tell. but, aside from the 1099-B, he’s probably got simple stuff as well. probably several 1099-INTs from several different bank accounts, maybe a couple 1098s floating around from vacation houses or some shit.
Sephiroth: Does his own. In ridiculously early. Makes almost no personal purchases so hardly has anything to pay. I can’t imagine not having a last name or not knowing his birthday doesn’t end up a legal problem somehow, so he likely has to walk directly into a damn tax office to say hey this is me and this is my shit no, someone isn’t stealing my identity. has one singular document and it’s his W-2. Which is. Fucking astronomical. Like, the number doesn’t even look right. His paycheck as a SOLDIER isn’t taxed, so he doesn’t really get much back on his refund. The only first without a healthcare /insurance form because why tf would Sephiroth have healthcare? What’s he gonna do, get sick?
not getting into how doing his own taxes was definitely a fight between him and Hojo at some point and ended up getting hashed out in a board room. Hojo didn’t like him having the autonomy of filing for himself instead of being claimed ad Hojo’s ‘dependent’. Sephiroth deadass threatened to go to court abt it. The President told Hojo to suck it up so they didn’t have to deal with scandal, Hojo wouldn’t tell Seph his birthday to be difficult, and here we are
Zack: Panicking. Late. Doesn’t know if his forms came in the mail, doesn’t know where he put them most of the time. Scrambles around for a fuck ton of receipts, ultimately has to request Shinra send him his shit again. DEFINITELY pays someone else to do it. W-2, 1095-A, 1099-C(s)(he has several debts i can feel it i love him but he screams bad financial decisions), probably some shit for his bike too. He customs it so I can see him listing some parts he buys for it as work expenses. Jokingly puts some money he gave aerith for flowers and what he spent to make her wagon as donations to charity and it actually goes through because the church is still considered a legal entity. Definitely has to pay late fees.
Cloud: Pays Tifa to do it. Filing for both of them is a nightmare cause all their shit burnt in Nibelheim, so once Edge gets right with the WRO they have to do all their paperwork from scratch and get reassigned SSNs. He genuinely has a fuckton of paperwork from doing the Strife Delivery Service. Luckily, only ‘employee’ he has is Tifa, and even then she doesn’t do things regularly aside from pick up the phone. Doesn’t make his business an LLC until he’s literally forced to due to his number of clients and someone trying to sue him for damages. 1099-NEC for TIfa for sure, then once he’s an LLC, some yearly maintenance to keep legal. Mileage and gas expenses go CRAZY on his self employment form, I fucking bet. I bet Cloud’s handwriting is shit tho. Tifa’s at her desk counting up his gains and losses for fucking ages because his fives look too similar to sixes. Eventually she wrangles him into installing some shit on his phone that counts it up, if only to cure her headache. Funnily enough, he does get veteran benefits from what’s left of Shinra’s shit, reparations of sorts, but he doesn’t keep it. All goes to charity, so that ends up in the books too.
alright, that was unnecessarily in depth and way longer than i planned. good night LMAO
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lavendertales · 8 months
Text
SEÑORITA: Chapter 7**
pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader
summary: following your fallout with Steve, you find yourself on Javier's doorstep.
word count: 6.4k (oops)
series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.
chapter warnings: face sitting, body worship, piv (safe).
A/N: here we are ya'll, the long awaited explosion of the slow burn hehehe. thank you so much for all the comments and the love, it means so much to me 💕I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well, and feedback is always much appreciated!
AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!
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series masterlist | AO3
You would’ve preferred to sit down inside your apartment in order to have this conversation rather than wander aimlessly on the hot streets of New York at almost midnight with your brother, but the surroundings are less important than the issue at hand.
Steve offered to buy frozen yogurt for the two of you, and fight as you might, you were persuaded to eat a little bowl of strawberry cold goodness. The two of you sat down at this little place on the corner, both clearly too uptight to initiate the conversation. So you clear your throat, exhaling slowly and steadily, and braced yourself.
“Steven—“
“I’m sorry.”
He blurts out the words as he stares at you, his eyes big and regretful.
“I’m so sorry for not supporting you more,” he continues, putting down the spoon. “And for not taking more of an interest in your hobby. It clearly means so much to you and I… I know I was a dickhead.”
“If you’re waiting for me to disagree it’s not going to happen.”
Steve chuckles, huffing.
“It’s more than a hobby, Steve,” you tell him. “In an ideal world where money wouldn’t be a thing, this would be my dream job. I’d do nothing else but write, travel and eat food all over the world. It’s why I took a job at the library. It’s the closest I’ll ever be to achieving that dream.”
“That makes me sad.”
“Made me sad too. But this is reality, and denying it won’t do me any favors.”
“You were always so much more mature and rational than me.”
Surprised, you make a face at him, unable to contain yourself. You’ve never heard such words from your brother.
“Me?” you say with a light chuckle escaping from your lips. “The eternal dreamer?”
“Yeah. Sure, you like to picture fictional worlds and get lost in them but you never lose sense of reality. You’re neither optimistic nor pessimistic. You just… live in the now.”
“You know… I’m actually really close to getting my own book published.”
Steve’s eyes widen further, his face revealing nothing but sheer excitement at this point, and the sight softens you; so much so that you smile involuntarily, rather flustered to finally share this news with him.
“That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!” he nearly shouts.
“Thanks, thanks. You’re the third person I tell this to.”
“Third?”
“Javier and Sylvie know.”
“Oh. I see. Is it based on Star Wars? Or inspired by it?”
You frown. “No, you doofus, it’s my own story. If I were to publish a fanfiction for Star Wars, I’d definitely get sued by George Lucas.”
“Kind of defeats the point of writing it, doesn’t it?”
As happy as you felt a minute ago, you feel just as dumbfounded now.
“The point, again, is creativity,” you reply. “You start from there and you build towards your own independent stories.”
“Isn’t it a waste of time? I mean why not start right at—“
“Oh my God! You’ve been this way since we were kids. You always thought you’re superior, whether you realized it or not.”
“I didn’t. And I didn’t mean to insult—“
“You never mean to and yet you still do.”
Steve watches you stand up, hands on your hips and munching on your lower lip in what can only be described as anger finally bubbling up at the surface.
“Mom and dad always sung your praises because you chose to do things logically and fit into society while I was a bitter disappointment for spending time alone in my room, reading and writing,” you say. “You finished high school and went straight to the Academy and mom and dad couldn’t have been prouder. Me? I finished high school and went to study literature in college and it still wasn’t good enough.”
“Nobody ever said that, you know it’s not true.”
“They didn’t have to say it. I could see it in their eyes, the way they spoke. I was the weirdo who needed a social life while you were their beloved Steven, making his way into the real world at such a young age, being so brave. Mom and dad never stopped thinking there’s something wrong with me and they didn’t hesitate in telling me that with every chance they got. Passive aggressively but still.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I know. I know that now. It took years of therapy to realize that.”
Steve watches you closely, filled with unrelenting guilt. He’s never seen you this decisive and mad, but he knows deep down he’s had it coming. All of the things he wished for your relationship are slowly going down the drain and he begins to fear that if he doesn’t say the right thing now and try his hardest to be here for you, he will lose you forever.
“I never meant to treat you any way other than with respect,” he says, his voice oddly hoarse. “I know I’m pushing things a lot of the time and I exaggerate and I have no right to intervene in your personal life, but it only comes from a place of needing to protect you.”
“I can protect myself, Steven.”
He huffs, grabbing your wrist and thus urging you to sit back down. “Do you remember in seventh grade when that group of idiots picked on you while you were reading on the playground? It rained heavily the day before and they snatched the book from your hands and threw it into a puddle, ruining it.”
“Yeah, I—I remember.”
“And then you told me that one of them, the bigger one, came onto you that same afternoon and forcefully kissed you. I had him suspended.”
“What—how?”
“I may have… broke his nose and threatened him to worse if he didn’t go to the principal’s office to confess to both forcing himself onto you and to bullying you.”
“Oh my—you never told me that.”
Steve shrugs. “Pretty sure that was the moment I started to be mindful of the guys that were around you. And when you got annoyed and purposely started dating the worst guys you could find, things have gotten wild.”
“You can say that again.”
You both chuckle.
“You know, the fact that you confided in Javi about your book before me or Connie is a bit hurtful,” Steve admits.
“Do you know why I told Javier first? Even before Sylvie? Because he asked me. It’s that simple. He took an interest in my passion and he actually cared about it. Hell, he turned my Star Wars story into a real book. He made it into a book just for me because he knows how much it means to me, and how much writing means to me.”
“He what?”
You nod. “Yeah. He didn’t mock me, he didn’t assume he knows better than me. He even encouraged me to keep going, which is how I’m close to finishing the editing part of my book faster than I anticipated. And this from a guy who was a complete stranger to me three months ago. You keep saying that Javier is your best friend but you don’t seem to treat him that way. You treat him like he’s bad news, like you didn’t go through all that shit together in Colombia. You need to get your shit together. Javier is a really good man. A good friend, and an overall good person.”
“I know he is, I’m just worried about him too like I’m worried about you. He hasn’t been the same since we came back from Colombia. It changed him in ways that I… I don’t know. I have Connie and Olivia and I feel so lucky but… he keeps to himself. He barely allows anyone in so I don’t know what it’s like inside his head. I was just so worried that you’d both rush into something you might not be ready for and end up hurting each other.”
You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath for quite some time, but you certainly hadn’t felt the need to breathe, not in this moment when years of anger and misunderstandings culminate in the most honest sentences either of you have ever spoken to each other.
“Even if we did rush into a relationship or casual dating or whatever, it still wouldn’t be your call to make,” you remind him. “It’s not your decision, it’s mine and his. We’re both adults, tip-toeing around each other and around you because you have this weird protection fetish.”
“It’s not—“
“You know what I meant.”
“I—I’m really sorry, sis. I just wanted us to be closer. I went the wrong way about it, I know that.”
“You did. Trying to intimidate your best friend and controlling whoever your baby sister is around is not the way to go about this. You pulled the same shit in high school and look how that turned out.”
“I was worried about you, about both of you.”
“And you had reasons to, I’ll give you that. But now there is none. I’m okay. And Javier can talk if he feels like it.”
“You don’t know him the way I do.”
“Maybe not. But you don’t know him like I do, either.”
Steve calls out your name once you get ready to leave.
“Whom I date is none of your business,” you retort. “Not even if that someone was your best friend. Which is not. So cut it out already and get your shit together. If you can’t accept this, then leave me the hell alone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate it. And I appreciate what you did for me that time in the seventh grade. I really do. But I need some time before I can truly forgive you.”
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Javier hadn’t expected the erratic knock on the door at this hour, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be met with the sight in his doorway.
You look just as lovely as ever, though you do seem to be a little tense. He doesn’t ask; instead, he looks you over and welcomes you inside, waiting for you to offer some explanation for your late visit, already perilous enough as it is.
“I know it’s late, I’m sorry,” you coo. “I just—this was the first place I thought of. Didn’t wanna be alone in my apartment.”
“It’s okay. What happened?”
“Why do you assume something happened? Can’t a friend pay a visit to another friend?”
“They can, but not with that expression on their face.”
“What expression?”
“You look like you’ve been run over.”
You frown, distancing yourself from him even further.
“I’m your friend, I should be able to tell you this without a problem,” Javier adds.
“No, you sure can. Thank you for the fine observation.”
“Glad I could be of service. Do you want a drink?”
Say no, your mind screams at you, almost begs. You shouldn’t be drinking, not when you’re feeling vulnerable after the raw conversation you’ve had at long last with your brother, and certainly not around Javier.
It’s not that you don’t trust yourself. You know what you can and can’t handle.
You’re simply afraid the liquor might provide you with the courage to finally tell him exactly what’s on your mind, and that you might end up being rejected. Something tells you Javier might choose loyalty and rationality over his feelings.
He keeps to himself, Steve told you.
“Little bit of whiskey would be nice if you have it,” you eventually reply, catching both Javier and yourself off guard.
“Didn’t know you drink whiskey.”
“I don’t. Not really. Only when I need something really strong.”
“I take it the conversation with Steve didn’t go that well then.”
Fucking hell, how does he do this? How does he intuit things about you without you even saying or hinting them?
“It did. I think,” you smile as a glass of amber liquid is being handed to you. “We talked things through, I told him my piece… he apologized. And he meant it, I could tell.”
“He’s an honest guy, and he means well.”
“I know he does. He only ever wanted to be there for his baby sister and to be a good friend, but he’s taken things too far. Which he’s acknowledged.”
“Color me intrigued and shocked.”
You smile, hiding the gesture in the glass and stealing a glance at Javier. An unfamiliar warmth surrounds you, wraps you in a blanket of confusion and longing that you’re certain you haven’t felt up until now.
“So how come you ended up here then?”
“I don’t know. I just… stormed off, told him I appreciate his apology but I need some time before I can fully forgive him.”
“While we’re at it…” Javier clears his throat, lowering his now empty glass, “I’m sorry too.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“You didn’t cause this.”
“I feel like I kind of did mess things up though. I’m quite good at it.”
“Javier…”
“What?”
You lower your glass too, reaching out to take his hand which he hesitantly accepts. “You’re not a bad guy. In no way, shape or form. Trust me on this. I know them pretty well. And you don’t fit in that category.”
When you smile at him, so sincere and bright, Javier pulls back his hand, chugging the rest of whiskey and focusing solely on the way it burns his throat.
And yet when he thinks of the way his body feels when you’re around you, that all-too-familiar burn is nothing compared to it.
“If I wouldn’t have taken this job, maybe things wouldn’t have been this way between you and Steve,” Javier mutters.
“Things between me and Steve have been rocky for years. They would’ve probably continued to be tense if you hadn’t pushed us to talk. Involuntarily, of course. And besides, if you wouldn’t have taken the job… I wouldn’t have met you.”
“I don’t know anyone whose life was better for having known me.”
“There is someone I can think of.”
Javier briefly gazes at you and quickly wishes he’d evaporate. It feels too much, far too consuming to even maintain eye contact with you on account of all the fear, the impossible yearning, the confusion and the—
No. stop it. This is not that.
“Anyway,” you resume, feeling a bit short of breath yourself, “I don’t think Steve wanted me to meet you in the first place.”
“That kinda makes me wanna get back at him.”
“Me too. And you know what would show him?”
Javier raises his brow, already anticipating and dreading the answer before it ever leaves your mouth.
“If we hooked up,” you smile wickedly.
He cocks an eyebrow, his interest peaked and his stomach all twisted in knots. “That so?”
“Mhm. We could let him stew in doubt, let him guess.”
“How would we pull that off?”
“Well, since we already agreed actually doing it is out of the question, a light touch on the arm when we’re all together, gazing at each other from afar, smiling… a kiss on the cheek, stuff like that.”
Javier has no idea when he finds himself in your close proximity again. All he knows is that he’s sitting on the chair next to you, leaning in yet again, cursing his own inner demons for fighting a losing battle, and his breaths betraying his restlessness.
“The buildup to a kiss is the best part,” he coos, and you swear you shiver for a second. “One of them, anyway.”
“Is it though?”
“Yes. What kind of jackasses did you date in the past? Jesus Christ.”
“The worst I could find.”
Against his better judgment—if there was any of it left—Javier chuckles, forcing himself to look at you.
“The moment you look into each other’s eyes and lean in, that’s where it all starts. It’s simple but it’s really powerful stuff. Heart beats faster. Breaths get shallower. At some point your eyes sort of drift away to the other’s lips, wondering what they taste and feel like. And then, when you finally feel bold enough to lean in more…”
You close your eyes, Javier’s faintly whiskey-infused breath all warm and tingly over your lips, and you wait. What you receive in return is a phone ringing though, so you instantly pull away, opening your eyes again and noticing the same expression on Javier’s face as you assume is on yours: desperation.
“I—“he starts, but you shush him immediately.
“It’s okay.”
We shouldn’t anyway, you think.
“Hello?” Javier practically groans into the telephone. “Hey, Con.”
You turn towards him on instinct, curious about the subject matter between the two, though you shouldn’t be; you know exactly what this is about, and at this late hour nonetheless.
“No,” Javier answers in an unusually dark and steady voice, eyes locked on your figure. “She’s not here.”
You look at him, utterly taken aback, and you gulp.
“Have you at least heard from her?” Connie inquires at the other end, unbeknownst to you. “She had a talk or a fight or something with Steve and now he’s worried. He says he called her apartment, went there and there’s no answer. It’s a whole thing.”
“I haven’t heard from her.”
“Javi…”
“Look, Con, with all due respect and care, she’s a grown woman and Murphy needs to stop babying her. She’s perfectly capable of making her own choices and seems to me that right now she doesn’t want to be found. So whatever you think it is that I’m doing…”
“I’m not thinking anything. Should I?”
“We’re… friends.”
“Have you noticed that whenever you say that, the pause between ‘we’ and ‘friends’ gets bigger?”
Javier frowns and blinks several times in a row, dumbfounded. “What?”
“It started out as ‘oh, we’re friends’ but now it’s more along the lines of ‘oh. We’re… sigh… friends’.”
“I sound nothing like that.”
“Javi. Come on.”
“I told you, Con. She’s not here tonight. Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s fine. She just wants to be left alone for a bit.”
“Well if you hear from her—“
“Yeah. Goodnight, Connie.”
Javier hangs up, frozen in the same spot. He knows that now there is no going back and that he’s in deep shit, but truthfully he only gives a damn about your well-being.
Everything else is tomorrow’s problem.
“You lied,” you coo.
“Fine observation skills.”
“Thank you.”
Javier stares at the ground, processing his own words and thoughts. Ever since he left Colombia, he’s all but tried to always do the right thing, the honorable thing and be a respectable man in today’s society. Not the Javier that worked with one of the most gruesome groups in the world for the greater cause, not Javier that bent the American embassy’s rules to fit into his scenarios, but a new Javier that was good and learned from his mistakes.
And now, every time he looks at you, he feels himself falling deeper into temptation, on the verge of making another mistake. Only this one might not be so easy to fix.
“Don’t thank me,” he mutters, pacing around the living room. “It was stupid and selfish. Obviously Connie knows you’re here and Steve’s gonna know and the whole thing’s gonna blow up in my fucking face.”
You notice him purposely avoiding your eyes and you reckon by the edgy way he’s marching through the living room that there are dozens of things on his mind now, if not more.
“Javier.”
No answer, more pacing.
“Javier, look at me.”
Still no answer, slightly less pacing.
“Why aren’t you looking at me? A minute ago you couldn’t stop looking at me when we were about to—“
“We were about to do nothing.”
“Right. I just—“
Then, Javier turns to you so abruptly it startles you for a second. You watch him walk towards you with a look on his face that you can’t quite put together. But it doesn’t intimidate you, nor does it scare you. On the contrary: it rather makes you want to hold him and be with him.
“What the hell are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his chocolate, soft eyes now glued to yours.
“I’m not—I’m not doing any—“
“No, you’re fucking consuming me. Eating me alive from inside out. And looking at you… whenever I look at you, I feel my promise to Steve break. I feel myself break, I feel… I feel the way I did back in Colombia, all fucked up and twisted and you don’t deserve that.”
“You never talk about it. Colombia.”
Javier purses his lips, holding his breath. “Sometimes it feels like I never left. Like it’s hell all around me. But then I think I can’t possibly be in hell cause you wouldn’t be there otherwise.”
Your heart flutters in your chest, your cheeks scorch with flattery and your body only craves more.
“Instead, you’re… here,” Javier continues, somewhat distraught. “You’re here and you’re… warm and fun and… alive. And your scent… I can’t get it out of my fucking head even if I know I should, I really should. Fucking… lavender, ruining me. And I just… I was hollow back there. I was dark and a jackass and… not as half as honorable as I thought I was, or that I’d be. I did shitty things, bad things. Colombia twisted me in ways I can’t revert. But I want to be better now, I want to be worthy, ironically because of you and for you. So looking at you feels like the most incredible thing in the world and the worst.”
You inch closer, breathless from the words that have been thrown at you, so raw and heartfelt.
“Did you ever kill a child?” you ask, and you can see the surprise on Javier’s face as the question is being processed by him.
“No.”
“A woman?”
“No.”
You nod once, slowly, inching even closer to him. “I thought we’re friends,” you whisper.
“We are, which is why I’m saying this with respect and care. Being your friend is killing me.”
“You said I’m not your type.”
“Apparently I was wrong. So very wrong. Apparently… you’re the very thing that I want. Pathetically desperate and… so fucking needy.”
Your skin is on fire by now, your throat dry and your mouth practically drooling.
“Javi,” you manage to get out.
“No, don’t—don’t do this to me right now.”
“Don’t do what? What are you—“
“Don’t say ‘Javi’, not like that.”
“How should I say it then?”
Javier’s eyes drop to your lips, and all of a sudden he’s unable to look elsewhere, consumed entirely by the unholiest thoughts he’s ever known.
“I got some ideas,” he whispers, his tongue wetting his lips.
“Mind sharing them with me?”
“I can’t.”
“But I want you to do this to me. There, verbal consent.”
Javier cocks his head to the side, thus exposing his neck and you’re feeling more parched than ever.
“The things I could do to you…” he mutters as if strictly to himself. “The things I could show you…”
“So show them to me. Show me… you.”
“Fuck, I want—“
“What do you want, Javi?”
The way you said his name, fully aware of the effect it has on him now and how much it messes with his mind, it makes Javier unable to think straight and certainly unable to resist you. In what can only be described as an act of insanity, Javier’s hand boldly rests on your waist, barely touching, and yet enough for both of you to feel the heat radiating from it.
“I want to do this right,” he says. “You’re not a random hookup. I—I wanna take you out to dinner, get to know you and be with you.”
“Dinner sounds nice.”
“Tomorrow night at seven?”
“Okay.”
In an even more insane act, you decide to move closer to him so that your lips press against his stubbled cheek. The touch is tentative, meant to be appreciative and thankful, but in the end, it only acts as a detonator to an already short enough fuse.
Before your brain properly understands what’s happening, you feel Javier sliding down your body until he kneels before you and wraps his arms around your legs and look up at you.
“Show me how to be good,” Javier mutters, and it shocks you to your core. “Show me how to be good, for you. Please.”
You open your mouth, and yet nothing comes out. Your mind must’ve short-circuited because no words come to mind except Sylvie’s from many weeks ago. 
Mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good.
Then you’re gonna be in big trouble, missy.
Damn you, Sylvie.
Still tongue-tied, you place your index finger beneath Javier’s chin, thus signaling him to stand back up. He follows obediently, staring at you once more and waiting, his heart in his throat.
Finally, at long fucking last, with chills creeping up your spine, you cup Javier’s cheeks and press your lips against his.
And good lord, is this the softest kiss you’ve ever had in your entire life.
It’s languid, tentative at first, as if you’re both waiting for each other’s reaction to it, but within the following seconds, the kiss turns sloppy and heated, betraying your eagerness.
Javier’s hands wrap around your body expertly, and he hums into your mouth, the sound going straight into your cunt almost soaking you on the spot. This is the part of relationships he’s actually really good at, something he’s very confident in, so he wastes no time in guiding you to his bedroom, leaving a wet trail of kisses down on your neck as he plops you on the bed, him atop of you.
“If you want to stop, you gotta tell me now,” he warns, his voice as dark as his eyes. “I mean, we can stop at any point, but if you don’t—“
“I want this, Javier. I want you. I don’t want to stop.”
Javier groans, his mouth back on yours and seemingly devouring it whilst his hands roam nervously on your body. There’s dampness between your legs, and you have the urge to rub your legs together in an attempt to hide the slickness, but when you feel a calloused hand grabbing the back of your thigh, gently squeezing it, you part your legs as if to make enough room for him. And he does; Javier grinds between your legs, beginning to undress you with so much determination it’s causing your head to spin.
By the time you’re topless and writhing beneath him, you’re begging for him to touch you some more. You’re begging for his hands, his mouth, any part of him that he’s willing to give to you, and Javier obeys without a single objection in mind.
“Lift your hips for me,” he instructs, and you do as he says.
Your pants come off, then Javier’s eyes stop on your underwear, already eating you up with a single look.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” you hear him say, and you shiver.
It’s you who pulls him back in for a kiss, and it feels like the most maddening, enticing and damnable thing in the whole wide world. One of Javier’s hands reaches in between your legs, feeling the dampness soaking your panties, and you gasp. He massages your clit through the fabric, having you moan uncontrollably right in his mouth, more so when you’re completely bare, panties thrown carelessly to the side.
“On my face,” Javier manages to get out during the brief pause which he takes to undress himself.
“What?”
“Sit on my face. Right now. I wanna taste you.”
Your mouth ajar, you stare at him struggling to compose yourself but there is no possible scenario in which you can accomplish that successfully. Instead, your eye roam over his shirtless figure, the sight fueling your needs further.
“Will you let me taste you?”
“I—it’s just I’ve never—done that, really.”
Javier looks dumbfounded at you. “You never sat on a guy’s face?”
“No, some of them barely went down on me, so I—“
“Do you trust me?”
You nod.
“Then take a seat.”
Javier lies down on the bed, quickly disposing of his own pants in the process, and it’s only then that you notice how hard he is. It can’t be comfortable, and yet here he is, choosing to do something that’s aimed for your pleasure. Unless of course this gives him great pleasure as well, which you think it does, and that only makes things tougher.
You climb up his body, quivering when you feel his calloused hands kneading the flesh of your ass and thighs as you do so, and quickly try to figure out the logistics of the act. That is, until Javier loses patience and grabs your thighs, placing them on either sides of his face, and you nearly lose your goddamn mind at his first taste he takes of you.
You’re sitting all the way on his face, his nose nudging your clit and his tongue lapping at your folds, collecting every ounce of arousal he can get. It’s pleasure from an angle you didn’t even dream of, and Javier certainly knows his way around a woman’s body. You react out of impulse and grab a handful of his hair, tugging on it while Javier’s tongue splits you open.
“Oh—f-fuck—“
You’re stuttering, heart pounding in your ears and your whole body afire; so much so that you shake, and not out of pleasure—not yet. But the way Javier yaps at your pussy, you somehow know he’s gonna get you there soon.
Beneath you, Javier listens closely to all the sounds you let out for him; he takes the time to feel every portion of your skin, not just the way his mouth is buried in your pussy, and to say he’s in awe would be a crass understatement. When you start grinding on his mouth, your body’s natural reaction to the way ecstasy builds in your body, Javier can’t help his own body’s reaction to it. You don’t see his hand sneaking behind you to curl around his weeping cock, and even if you did, all you’d want would be to take him in your mouth instead, give him at least half the pleasure and happiness he’d been giving you all this time.
“Javi—“
“Mhmmm—sounds so fucking good when you say it like that.”
“J-Javi, please—“
“Shit I could drink from you—all day long.”
Too impatient, both of Javier’s hands go back to your ass, grabbing it so that you rock faster against his tongue, but you’re already moving out of your own accord in a desperate attempt to capture more of his mouth, to have that feeling that’s only bubbling in your belly explode into a thousand explosive flames.
“Need you to say it,” you hear him beg from between your legs. “Can you say it for me, hm? Ask me.”
“Please, Javi…”
“Say it.”
“Javi, I need—I need you. Need to… feel you.”
Then, it all seizes around you: your mind goes blank, your vision goes dark, nothing but stars all around you and unbearable heat bursting from beneath you and going up till your whole body is enveloped in it. Javier’s hands continue to explore your body, touching and caressing every inch of skin, his eyes never leaving your figure like he’s admiring the most precious work of art there is.
“So beautiful,” you see him murmur as you’re getting off him.
Javier licks his lips teasingly just as you lean down to kiss him again. You doubt you’d ever get enough of his mouth now that you’ve finally tasted it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “And so tasty.”
You smile flustered, still unable to think of anything proper to say. Some words do come to mind, of course; thank you, I appreciate your friendship, I’m in love with you—
Oh no, not that one.
You begin to fear that the way you’re kissing him exposes the reality in your mind, the word you undeniably feel fluttering inside your chest, begging to be released, but you can’t. It’s far too soon and too hasty, so you keep them to yourself. As your bodies get entangled with one another and you find yourself beneath him once again, you abandon those words in a tiny box at the back of your mind, sealed.
 You find that once you keep your mouth shut, you can only gaze at Javier, and he at you. There’s nothing else to be said, not when your body’s being molded in such tender ways by Javier’s hands and mouth, praised for simply being here in between the sheets with him.
“Javi?”
“Hm?”
“Can you please fuck me now? I think we’ve both waited enough.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
Javier reaches over, opening the nightstand and eventually rolling a condom onto his erection, lining up to your entrance. You can’t help but admire Javier, his eyes, his lips, his cheeks, his strong arms, his chest and his belly, the soft, dark curls at the base of his cock, the way his lower lip quivers when he’s overwhelmed.
“You’re so—“you gasp.
And the way he fills you to the brim in one languid, careful thrust is equal parts mesmerizing and enticing.
“So what?” Javier asks.
“So pretty.”
Javier stills for a moment, blinking in confusion. “No one’s said that to me before. I don’t… am I?”
You smile, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. Very much so.”
Then Javier sinks into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel him pressing down onto you, completely undone and ravished, and keeps muttering into your ear little praises here and there. Your back arched, you take him and his words deep inside you, allowing Javier to consume you as much as he told you that you consume him.
And you have to admit, it is the most maddening sensation in the world.
He starts to move, a new urge overcoming him than when he’d been with women in the past. Being with you feels different because for the first time in so many years, he doesn’t want to rush; in spite of his neediness and almost two years of celibacy, now that he’s here, with you and inside of you, he wants to remain in this moment for as long as possible. He doesn’t have to rush, he realizes. There’s no bombs going off in the distance or shootings—most importantly, Colombia is not out there.
But you are here, soft and warm and kind and beautiful and Javier can barely breathe thinking about how much he adores you.
He wants to say the words, he feels them on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t want to scare you away. And he doesn’t want to rush things when this has the potential to be something so great.
His thrusts keep the same pace, though Javier feels like he could easily come at any given moment. Your tight, warm walls around him make him dizzy, utterly lost in that damned lavender scent and in your eyes and your smile. And your lips—oh God, he could kiss you all day and all night long. All the other times he’d abstained from kissing you, how close he was… how could he not have you that way?
“Javi…”
It’s all he hears, his name moaned from your perfect lips. All he knows now is you, the way you arch your back with each thrust of his, the way you gasp when his hand lays on your stomach and his thumb plays with your clit.
“I’ve thought about this, you and me… before,” you smile, cupping his cheeks.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. I swore I’d never tell you. But now—“
“I thought about it too.”
“You—you did?”
Javier nods, leaning down to peck your lips, the gesture followed by an ecstatic smile.
“I shouldn’t have. I knew it was… it was wrong, it was dirty and cheap… I couldn’t stop. I—I tried, please believe me, I really tried, I—“
“Javi, shhh. I know you did. You were very honorable, and a great friend. Especially now, to me.”
You both smile against each other’s lips, Javier’s hips stuttering after a little while. He feels that familiar burn in his stomach, and that’s the only time he dares speed up, almost manically so. With a few grunts, Javier buries his head in the crook of your neck, cursing once in a while as his orgasm bubbled in his whole body. He needs to feel you pulse around him more than anything.
“I’m—shitshitshit—“
“It’s okay, come for me, Javi.”
“But I—“
“I’m close too.”
“Yeah?”
“S-So close… please…”
You don’t need to beg: you and Javier are right there, both tipping over the edge of sanity and falling right into the pit of passion and ecstasy. Javier grunts the loudest he ever had, spilling himself inside the condom and remaining still above you, the pleasure coursing through his veins overwhelming him completely. He looks down on you and sees your face scrunched up in the most adorable and alluring way and it dawns on him: it’s because of him. You came twice now, once in his mouth and once around his cock, gasping and moaning sweetly because of him. There’s a pride in his chest, pride and flattery, almost to an animalistic, primal degree.
When he pulls out, you feel empty and lonely, though the thought seems ridiculous because he’s right there still, isn’t he? You can’t help it—it’s like you want your bodies to remain united as one for as long as humanly possible.
“Oh, by the way,” Javier says, returning from the bathroom with a towel that he begins to press on your inner thighs and between them, “this is probably obvious, but we’re not telling your brother about this, right?”
You raise your eyebrows, bemused at his genuine question.
“I know we joked about it before, but… still.”
“Unless hell freezes over, no, we are not telling Steven shit.”
previous | next
tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @fallenkitten @jenispunk
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lazycats-stuff · 10 months
Note
Hello, do you accept orders? If so, you could make a dick grayson x male reader, where the reader is a mercenary son of deathstroke and they are a couple, but the bat family doesn't know about their relationship (for obvious reasons) and that during a fight with the family of bats the reader is hurt and that Dick cares so much about him, that he doesn't mind going to help his boyfriend and that the others find out about their relationship, and well that in the end there are tender scenes between dick and the reader. I'm sorry if it's an inconvenience.
This is adorable. I want someone like Dick Grayson in my life.
Summary: Dick and (Y/N) are together, however, one is a good guy and one is a bad guy. Their families find out.
Warnings: mentions of a fight, Dick being a sweetheart, secret relationships, Deathstroke and Batman being protective fathers
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Dick went on patrol, separating himself from his family. He had a meeting with his boyfriend, (Y/N). Why was the boyfriend secret? Because his boyfriend was son of Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke. They have started out as rivals, fighting whenever they saw one another.
But one time, they saved each other and their friendship started there. Dick didn't tell (Y/N) his name at the time, but they talked a lot about their fathers. Sometimes it was about how annoying they were and sometimes how protective they can be.
Yes, Slade Wilson is a protective father too.
Overtime, it grew into something new, something that, at the time, scared Dick and (Y/N). But a fight secured their feelings for one another and they started their relationship. It was the best that has happened to Dick.
But there was a problem. They had to keep it a secret. They knew each others identities, but their families are enemies and if they found out they would have separated them.
Dick jumped on the roof, smiling at the sight of his boyfriend. (Y/N) smiled too, walking up to Dick. They wrapped arms around each other and kissed.
If Bruce and Slade were to see this, both of them would have had heart attacks.
They stayed close to one another, just basking in their proximity.
" Hey Dick. " (Y/N) said, smiling at his boyfriend, moving his hand to cup Dick's face.
" Hey (Y/N). How are you? " Dick asked, kissing him once more.
" Whenever I see you, I'm always better. " (Y/N) said smirking, moving away a bit.
" I could say the exact same thing. " Dick said, watching his boyfriend.
" What's wrong (Y/N)? " He asked him, taking (Y/N)'s hands into his own.
" I think my father is planning something against yours. I don't know for sure, but there is a plan that involves Batman. " (Y/N) revealed to Dick, squeezing his hands.
" Well, whatever it is, we are going to be fine. " Dick reassured, this not being the first time they had to fight with their families. It wasn't easy, but they knew that they had to keep up the façade.
" I know, but I have a very bad feeling about it. I just wanted to warn you. " (Y/N) said, giving Dick a kiss on his cheek. " I have get going, he will be suspicious if I don't get home. "
Dick nodded, giving (Y/N) a last kiss on the lips before they went their separate ways.
(Y/N) was right about a plan involving Batman. Deathstroke tried to get him to be alone, but the rest of the family was there too. Batman and Deathstroke had started talking, but they were going to fight.
Dick glanced at (Y/N) who was standing behind his father. He couldn't see (Y/N)'s face due to the helmet, but he knew that (Y/N) was looking at him too.
He could only hope, that Batman and Deathstroke won't fight. But hope always dies last. Dick knew it's stupid to hope for that, but for both his and (Y/N)'s sake.
Once Batman and Deathstroke jumped into action, so did everyone else. Dick didn't want to fight (Y/N), he couldn't fight him. It was too painful.
Damian and Jason went after (Y/N) and Dick, Tim and Bruce went after Deathstroke. While fighting, Dick kept an eye on (Y/N). Damian was good and Jason was good too. It wasn't easy to go against Damian or Jason, especially if it's 2 vs 1.
And Dick was proud of (Y/N) from handling it like a champ. One of the reasons why Dick loved him was the fact that (Y/N) could handle it. He could keep up with them and not everyone could.
The fight was going on forever. They have switched from time to time, but Dick never got into a direct fight with (Y/N). He would hold back and his family would notice it and be suspicious.
Dick tried to get to Deathstroke to end the fight, but a scream made him turn his head. It was (Y/N), on the ground and Dick swore he saw blood.
He abandoned the fight with Deathstroke and ran over to (Y/N). He knelt next to his head, saying his name. Damian and Jason stopped in their tracks.
Jason's loud what stopped the fight. Batman and Deathstroke turned their head from the fight they were having. They looked at their first sons. Why was Dick kneeling down next to (Y/N), gently holding his face? And why was (Y/N) reciprocating?
" Hey, where were you hit? " Dick asked softly, ignoring everyone around them. He saw it immediately. It even broke the side of the helmet.
" Can I take it off to see it better? " Dick asked for his permission. (Y/N) mumbled out a yes and Dick gently took off the mask smiling at the sight of (Y/N)'s face.
" Why are you smiling Dick? " (Y/N) asked Dick, raising his hand up to cup his face. It was a habit of his to cup Dick's face.
" Because I love you. "
(Y/N)'s heart melted at the way he said it, just so easily. But then his heart sank. Their families were here. They know...
" Dick... They know. " (Y/N) whispered, worried out of his mind.
" I know. " Dick answered, giving him a kiss to soothe his anxiety.
" Since when is this going on? " Batman asked, his gruff voice cutting through the silence.
" It's going to be a year soon. " Dick answered for them both.
" And how did it happen? " Deathstroke asked the two, watching as Dick helped (Y/N) sit up.
" A series of fight between us and other villains. " (Y/N) answered this one. He leaned his head onto Dick's side and Dick wrapped his arm around him.
Nobody really said anything and Dick and (Y/N) were waiting for their fathers are going to say about this. If they separate them, well, they will still find a way to see one another.
" (Y/N), do you love my son? " Batman asked, using his Bat glare to look at (Y/N).
" I do. I love him more than anything. " (Y/N) said, Grasping Dick's hand.
" And you Nightwing? Do you love my son? " Deathstroke asked Dick, grasping the hilt of his blade. Batman eyes Deathstroke's hands.
" I do. I don't think I could live with out him. " Dick confessed. The brothers were silently watching.
" Okay, I have something to say for the rest of the birds here. " Jason started, clapping his hands. " (Y/N), hurt our brother and I can promise you, you will be begging us to kill you. " Jason finished, making the other brothers nod their heads.
" Same goes for you Nightwing. " Deathstroke said, glaring at the him with his good eye. " Hurt my son, I will make sure to send you to pieces to Batman. "
Batman turned his head, glaring at him. He could understand the protectiveness, (Y/N) being the only son, but that is crossing a line.
" Well, point taken and I think I speak for both myself and (Y/N). " Dick started, helping (Y/N) up. " If you need to talk to us, I'm taking him to my apartment. I need to check out his injury.
He glanced at Jason, who just shrugged his shoulders.
" Come on. " Dick encouraged (Y/N), moving his boyfriend to the exit.
" Are you okay now? " Dick asked, watching his boyfriend as he was laying down in his bed. They have been at each others places, but only for a small amount of time, never overnight.
" Yes, can I get some water? I'm thirsty. " (Y/N) asked his boyfriend, touching his bandage wrapped around his head.
" I can, don't touch them. " Dick warned him about bandages. He went to the kitchen, getting a water from the fridge. He sat down on the edge of the bed, making sure that (Y/N) has drank enough water.
" Are you sure you are okay? You have been quiet. " Dick asked, taking (Y/N)'s hand.
" I am okay, it's just weird for our families to know, I guess? " (Y/N) explained to Dick, caressing Dick's hand with his thumb.
" I know, I understand it. " Dick said, giving (Y/N)'s hand a kiss. " Do you need anything else? "
" Not really, just you here next to me. It's our first sleepover together." (Y/N) said, moving so that Dick could lay down next to him.
" It is. " Dick realized, moving to lay down next to his boyfriend.
" I'm just glad that we don't have to hide anymore. " (Y/N) said, kissing Dick on the lips. If it weren't for the fact that (Y/N) was injured, Dick would deepen it.
" We will continue this make out session later, your head needs to heal. " Dick said, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.
" And you need rest. I know you need it, so lets go to sleep. "
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jaycewrites-192000 · 2 months
Text
In Every Timeline [Chapter One]
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Taglist- @ameliabs-world
(If anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know ^w^)
A young girl at the age of ten, makes her way home from school. She didn’t live too far away from her school, so she didn’t mind the walk to and back. In fact, she found herself enjoying the walks. It gave her some alone time, some time to herself, some time to think.
It was nice.
Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last long. Today, some middle schoolers decided to give her a hard time. She was stopped by two older boys, each of them trying to come off as intimidating.
“You lost little girl?”
“Where’s your little friends? Or, maybe…Don’t tell me you’re one of those friendless geeks!”
“I bet! Just look at her!”
She inwardly sighs at their attempts at scaring her and hurting her feelings. Though, what they said wasn’t entirely wrong. She really didn’t have any friends. It was hard to make friends at her school. Or rather, it was hard for her to make friends. She just gave up after a while.
She wasn’t sad about it or anything. She was doing just fine.
“Can you please get out of my way?” She finally speaks.
“Huh? Trying to order us around pipsqueak!?”
“Annoying little brat! We outta reach you a lesson!”
The two took a step closer to her. This time the sigh left her. She wasn’t a great fighter. She was only ten after all. But she did deal with her fair share of bullies, and she was able to take care of them on her own.
This was no different. Just two dumb bullies in her way.
The first one raised his fist and aimed it towards her face. She quickly dodged before deliver a punch of her own to his stomach. She wasn’t sure if he was actually hurt from it, or if it was just shock that made him stumble back. But she didn’t waste time as she did the same to the other, this time, kicking him in the gut as hard as she could.
“Damn you!”
The girl quickly tried running past them, but was grabbed by the arm and yanked back.
“Hold her still.”
One of the boys cracked his knuckles as he spoke. “We were just gonna let you go with a light slap on the wrist. But now you’re gonna get it! How would you like a few broken bones!?”
Just as he said this, fast approaching footsteps could be heard. And before she knew it, the one threatening to harm her was being kicked in the head. He was sent to the ground roughly, unconscious.
Standing above him, was a boy around her age. With a bored expression, he turned to the one holding her. “How lame. Picking on a little girl.” He muttered before rushing towards him. He jumped up into the air, and delivered the same devastating kick he dealt the first one.
He landed with ease, and turned to face the girl. “You alright?” He asks. The girl blinks before nodding her head. “Ok. See ya.” The boy says before starting to walk off.
“Wait a second!”
The boy stopped when she called for him. “What?” He asks. “How…How did you do that?” She asks him. “Do what?” The boy tilts his head. “The flying kick you just did!” The girl says, pointing back to the still unconscious middle schoolers.
“Oh that.” The boy says, placing his hands in his pockets. “I take martial arts classes with my grandpa.” He explains. “Can I do it too?” Her question confused him.
“Where is your grandpa’s dojo? I wanna take lessons too.”
“What? No way, you totally suck at fighting. It’d be a waste of time.” He says with a frown. The girl furrows her brows. “I do not!” She argues.
“I saw you trying to fight back against those guys. You barely left a mark on them. Then you tried to run away like a coward.”
“But there were two of them!”
“Which is why you shouldn’t have tried fighting them. Especially if you don’t know how to fight in the first place.”
“Then isn’t that even more of a reason to let me practice at the dojo? Then I can do those cool kicks like you do and I won’t have to worry about guys like that again.”
The boy sighs and starts walking away again. “No way. It would take you forever to get on my level.” The girl followed after him. “Like I said! That’s more of a reason why I should take lessons!”
“I already said no. And stop following me!”
“Not until you tell me where the dojo is!”
“No!”
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This kind of back and forth between the two would go on for at least a week after that. It was by some stroke of luck that the boy went to the same school as her. So, she’d make sure to follow after him and try her best to convince him to let her take lessons with him.
But every time, he turned her down.
One day, she decided to follow him without him knowing. Sure it was creepy, but she was only doing it to find out where he was taking martial arts classes. After that, and after applying to join, she’d leave him alone. By then, she would have done what she had sought out to accomplish.
Her plan had proved to be successful, as she trailed him to the dojo. She waited for the boy to go inside before waiting outside. She didn’t mind the wait. It would be worth it if she could learn how to fight like him.
“What are you doing out here?”
The girl looks to her left, there stood a young man with jet black hair. A cigarette hung loose from his lips, and even from where she stood, she could smell a hint of motor oil off his clothes.
“I’m waiting.” She answers simply, causing the man to raise an eyebrow. “Waiting for…?”
The girl looks up at the dojo. “I wanna learn how to fight. But that dummy won’t let me!” She pouts. “What dummy?” Asked the man. The girl opened her mouth, only for it to fall close again. What…was that boy’s name?
“Uh. He’s short, and has blonde hair. And he does really cool kicks.”
“Oh, Manjiro?” The man asks. “You friends with him?” The girl shakes her head with a frown. “I don’t like him! He’s a jerk! He said it would be a waste of time for me to learn how to fight. I’m not good at it, sure, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn!”
The man nods. “I agree.” He says before taking one last puff of his cigarette, then tossing on the ground and stepping on it. “I’m sorry about my little brother. He can be a pain sometimes.” Brother? This guy is that jerk’s brother? But he seems really nice.
“My name is Shinichiro Sano. Who are you?”
“Y/n L/n.”
The two talked for a while before the doors of the dojo opened, letting some kids out. Among them, was Manjiro and some other boy he was talking to. Manjiro seemed to have noticed Y/n, as an annoyed look crossed his face. “You again.”
“Who’s that?” Asked the taller boy with him. “Some brat.” Manjiro answers. “Hey!” Y/n scowls. “Manjiro, why don’t you think Y/n can take lessons here?” Asked Shinichiro. “Cause she sucks.” Manjiro says, as if Shinichiro should already know. “She’ll just get herself hurt.”
“Hm. I think that’s a great reason to let her try.” Said Shinichiro. “What do you think Baji?” The other boy hummed. “I guess? I mean, couldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll talk to Gramps about letting you take lessons.” Shinichiro tells Y/n, making her grin. “Thank you!” She beams.
Manjiro rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He says as he walks ahead. Baji gives Y/n a small wave before hurrying after him. “Hmph. Jerk.” Y/n mutters, watching Manjiro leave. “Don’t worry.” Shinichiro starts.
“He’ll get use to you soon.”
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Luck must have been on Y/n’a side. Shinichiro’s grandfather accepted her into the dojo, and lessons began right away. And just as Shinichiro said, Manjiro, or “Mikey” as he liked to be referred to, slowly got use to her being around.
But he was still a bit of a jerk.
As for Shinichiro, he couldn’t be sweeter. Y/n really grew attached to him, she would go as far to say he was like an older brother to her. That gave her even more of a reason to show up for lessons.
Y/n became friends with Emma as well, she was really nice to her when they met. Y/n was hesitant at first, but slowly opened up to her. Whenever Y/n wasn’t taking lessons, she was hanging out with Emma.
As for Mikey, he too eventually grew more comfortable with Y/n. Turns out she wasn’t completely hopeless after all. At some point, those two set aside their little dislike of each other, and became pretty good friends.
Y/n would get to hang out with him and his friends, in time, becoming friends with them as well. And being the only girl in a group of boys, their behavior and mannerisms rubbed off on Y/n. Among the group she had to admit, Ken, or Draken, was her favorite.
He was surprisingly mature for his age, only being beat by Mitsuya. And that was only by a little. As for the others though, they were just a bunch of boys. But back to Draken-
There was a point where Y/n had grown to see him as an older brother. He was nice but could get stern if he needed to. And he was a great protector. Y/n could understand why Emma liked him so much.
Y/n would have saved that big brother title for Shinichiro, as he was a great brother to the Sano kids. But honestly, she saw him as more than that. She'd go as far to say, he was almost like a father figure to her.
It was just Y/n and her mom back home, as she and her husband divorced a couple years ago.
Shinichiro kind of filled that emptiness that Y/n's dad left her with. He was always so caring, always looked out for her, always wanted to know how she was doing. He’d even let her hang out at the shop while he worked. It was quite the sight. He was so focused, and he did his job well.
He was just the coolest.
Y/n really cared about each and every single one of them. Which is why, it was all the more difficult when she had to say goodbye.
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Mikey had noticed Y/n's behavior had changed lately. Y/n was less talkative, less active. She didn’t want to do much of anything with anyone. It was weird. So of course, he decided to confront her about it.
He caught Y/n on the way to Shinichiro’s shop.
“You’re acting weird. More than usual. What’s going on?” He asks. Y/n shrugged. “It’s nothing.” Mikey rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that? Tell me.” Y/n suddenly stop walking, Mikey did as well. “Well?” He pries.
Y/n's shoulders began to tremble, soft sniffles came from her as tears filled her eyes. Mikey was slightly surprised by this. She never cried in front of him, or anyone, before. “Y/n?”
“I’m moving away.”
“What?”
Y/n wipe away her tears, sniffling before repeating herself. “I said, I’m moving away. Away from Tokyo, away from Japan all together.”
“Why?” Mikey asks, trying to ignore that funny feeling in his chest. “It’s because of my mom’s work. We’re leaving in a week.” Y/n tells him. Mikey fell silent, the only thing that could be heard was her sniffles and soft cries.
Everyone found out eventually, and they were just as upset as Y/n was. But there wasn’t anything anyone could do. She was leaving, and she didn’t know when, or if, she'd be back.
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Ok! First chapter done! Chapter two is already in the works as this is being published, so hopefully you guys will get to read chapter two soon.
I hope you all enjoy this series!
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anystalker707 · 1 year
Text
Admiral, my Admiral
Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader Words: ~ 2 500 Summary: An unusual relationship that starts with a deal. Tags: no talk to him (ace) he angy / he gets to be babied tho / um, there's angst if you don't mind
MASTERLIST
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• Ace could remember passing out during a fight. His division wasn’t able to defeat the marine because they happened to run into a fucking strong division
• He tried his best to fight, but he just ended up getting weak when the spear of Sea-prism stone touched his chest and there was nothing else he could do, not even burn the ship so he would die uncaught, in the bottom of the sea; the last thing he could see was the fucking admiral walking towards him before he passed out. Where did the admiral come from, anyways?
• He woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, but could feel the familiar movement of the sea under him, so he was a little relieved he hadn’t been taken anywhere on land. Or maybe it was actually worse, if he thought well
• The whole place was too... patterned. Minimalist. It seems like a guest room and, when he leaves the room, the place keeps the same dark gray, white and blue colors. He keeps going until seeing a sign with the Marine symbol on it makes him shout and try to start lighting everything on fire until he notices the anklet on his leg and it is made out of that goddamned stone
• It is stupid, but he still jumps on you in an attempt to kill you with his bare fists at the moment he finds you at the desk only to be sent flying into the sea with a kick and rescued by your subordinates
• Ace is so full of anger, so small compared to you as he stands on the deck and stares at you—if only looks could kill...—while you don’t even bother to order him to be chained or anything. He feels like he will combust when you look at him and have the audacity to grin
• Your subordinates seem to know something that Ace doesn’t, but none of them pipe a word about it, all of them always talking the minimum possible with him and ignoring his comments whenever they get him food. He almost feels like when he was taken in by Whitebeard all over again, but this time, the feeling isn’t exactly welcoming because the only one being nice to him there is the fucking admiral, even if you can get on his nerves with your sarcasm and superiority complex. That is living hell
• At first, he thinks you will execute him—doesn’t happen. Then, you’re probably taking him to some headquarters to make him prisoner or something—also wrong. He tries to bribe one of your subordinates into telling him, but it never happens; not like he has anything that may interest them
• All he needs to stop fussing around so much is a letter from Garp telling him to trust you; not really the most convincing thing, but surely does leave a thought in the back of Ace’s head
• If you don’t kill him and have a goal, then the logic is simple; you need Ace alive, so you won’t kill him even if he’s the most insufferable fucker in the whole world
• Spending a few weeks on your ship does make Ace soften, though. He ends up finding himself in late night talks with you on the deck because, as much as he doesn’t want to chat, your sweet talk does keep him going. Not to mention the way he finds comfort in you, somehow
• Ace softening up doesn’t mean peace. His way of showing he is more comfortable around you resolves itself around Ace suddenly falling asleep in the most inconvenient spaces and following you around while making the most annoying comments. It doesn’t matter that you’re an Admiral and the power you have—he will get on your nerves because that’s just how he is, even more knowing he won’t get killed no matter how much he annoys one of the strongest, best known marines and warriors out there
• “What’re you doing?” “...Paperwork.” “Well, that I can see. What’s it about, though? Can I see the files about me? You better have everything right. I’m sure my bounty would be higher if you knew everything I’ve done!” “Why don’t you go take a nap or something? Leave me alone, fire boy.” “You’re so annoying! I can’t even—” You look up from your papers and he is... sleeping again. Okay.
• “You must be receiving a great amount to be taking care of me.” “Oh, I wish I were...”
• The relationship between you two turns into something like; Ace: Yo, I’ve broken about 20 important things, almost sank your ship again and made one of your subordinates almost give up on being a Marine You: I know this and I love you
• Ace is a little suspicious if you really have any real destiny—you’re sailing without stopping at any island for longer than a couple of days and never going to any of the headquarters. Are you going against the rules and acting in secret? Really??? For real??? Damn it, someone for once should tell Ace a word about what’s going on. Not only would half of his doubts go away, but also something interesting would happen in that godforsaken ship before he went crazy
• Although, watching the admiral is quite interesting. Well, the admiral is quite interesting...
• He grows quiet for a while, spending some days processing how you are always checking on him every morning and every night before he goes to sleep, sometimes bringing you food in person and spending some of your time with him
• Why do you want to know if he is emotionally okay and has everything he needs? It's almost like you care
• Then there are those long, uncomfortable silences in which he doesn't know what to do because, maybe unintentionally, those little comments of yours and light smirks have his face turning bright red and something stirring inside his chest
• How did he even allow the admiral to get into his head like that? He can't let it continue this way, though
          “(Y/n)!” Ace whined as he walked into your office and didn’t even care about what you were doing before he threw himself on your lap, holding onto your shoulders as he dramatically leaned back.
“Ace—”
“I am afraid I am about to die! Your ship is so, so boring and your subordinates never talk to me!” He closed his eyes, making a face as if he were under a lot of pain—or at least trying to—, with no regard for the documents he almost made you ruin. “Like, why can’t they give me the combination to the vault? Or let me mess with the sails? That’s no fun!”
You would’ve chuckled if Ace weren’t being so obnoxious, so you just leaned back on the chair and observed him; he pouted at the silence and sat up properly on your lap. He takes in a breath, but you never allow him to voice whatever it is.
“Look, I am throwing you in the sea if you continue like this!”
“As if!” Ace chuckles. “You can’t k...”
Oh, it can’t be. Still, the soft snoring that comes from Ace confirms your theory and you roll your eyes, bouncing your leg lightly.
“Oi! What do you think you are doing, Ace?” You finally let go of your pen and your papers, shaking Ace a little. “Get lost, fire boy! I already forbid you from interrupting me while I’m on my paperwork! Why don’t you go read the books I lent you, hm? Go sleep in your room, at least. In the kitchen. I don't care.”
“It’s no fun without you.” Ace groaned, and you couldn’t help but to smirk and raise an eyebrow; a red tone took over his cheeks. “I—I mean, you’re the one who—”
“The one who?” You nodded for him to continue, resting your cheek against your palm. “Go on.” Ace exhaled, pressing his lips together as he looked away, and the lack of answer made you chuckle while wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, you don’t know what to do now that you have my full attention? Just wasting my time? I gave you rules to stay on my ship, Ace.” Your fingers held onto his jaw so he would look at you. “And I—”
Lips pressed to yours interrupted your words. Ace’s lips. You couldn’t help but to kiss back because he kept pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, dismissing your hesitance, and even daring to hum softly once you started to kiss him back.
None of you stop. It started a chain of kisses that was enough to make you forget about your paperwork, lost in kissing the lips of a filthy pirate that fell in your hands because of a deal. Both of you had this same feeling; the spark of knowing that this was wrong and forbidden was what ignited your feelings for each other. Ace’s lips tasted like the sea, like the sweets he was eating earlier, but also tasted like freedom. A little bit of power that you had over the Marine and the World Government because no matter what you did, you knew no one would agree to have you dismissed from the Marine and they couldn't control every single action of yours.
Your fingers hooked with the hair on the back of Ace’s head to pull him away from the kiss a little. “You are down bad,” you mumbled into his ear.
• Once, Ace hears you talking to Sengoku. He sees you in your office, back to the door and with a den den mushi in hand. Your voice is calm, but not the sort of calm like you are when you raise an eyebrow at Ace then shrug in dismissal before you tell him to do whatever he pleases, no; it is the type of calm when your subordinates do something you don’t like, so you suppress your annoyance to long glares and pursed lips
• “No...” You say to the snail, “I am busy. I won’t be there for the next meeting. You already know my position in this. It is the same as Garp’s. And you know I haven’t seen Fire First. I would’ve reported already. Has he disappeared or something? You haven’t heard a thing about him for weeks.”
• And he doesn’t listen anymore. He doesn’t want to. Either way, it is enough to change the context again, from “stop locking me here” to “thanks for keeping me safe”
• You don’t understand what’s up with Ace being softer around you, but it is well welcomed. There’s something sweet about how he places a chair next to your desk and folds his arms over the table with his head on them, quietly observing you work until he falls asleep
• Actually, one night, Ace knocks on your bedroom’s door. He just walks past you and collapses on the bed at the moment you open the door. And fuck. That boy’s audacity. Whatever. It’s nice to hold onto something while you sleep
• And the fact your subordinates will walk into you making out with Ace on your lap while you’re in your office and just ignore what is happening is just... Hell, you love it
• There’s a whole new routine with Ace by your side
• The moment Ace has to leave comes quicker than you expected. It’s already time for you to return to your usual admiral duties and also for Ace to go back to the sea because there’s no longer a threat
• He can’t believe that keeping him was a whole plan to keep him safe while you, Garp and a few others did your best to convince the Marine that Portgas D. Ace was not a threat, so he shouldn’t be executed
• Ace is at loss of words, unable to formulate a thanks that’s genuine enough and expresses all of his feelings because you only fucking let him know about it when you’re dropping him at an island where Whitebeard already awaits for him. He wants to cry, to hug you, to kiss you, to ramble about how thankful he is, all at the same time—but he can’t
• You chuckle at how lost he seems, grinning happily and telling him he can go because he is safe now
• Ace doesn’t leave without giving you a kiss, a deep one
• What seemed to be a short-term thing, ends up leaving your hearts aching for more once you’re away from each other, in the sea. It is risky, it is dangerous, difficult to manage, even, but you’re picking Ace up in a random island to spend the night with you whenever you are able to, with excuses to the marine that you ended up letting him escape because your priorities were others. Sometimes he will just show up randomly with that devilish smirk on his face
• As much as you’re an admiral, your little relationship does reach the Marine’s eyes and ears, and it doesn’t seem to help them in the slightest bit because you’re not only with one of their highest potential enemies; your behavior also encourages other pirates a little too much, as if it gives them some sort of excuse or extra freedom. You’d always been a little rebel considering the Marine and World Government’s rules, so maybe you’ll go a little too far soon—if you haven't already
• Getting rid of Ace wouldn’t mean just getting rid of a big threat—it also would have you under the Marine’s control once for all
• First of all, the Marine can’t get rid of an admiral so powerful like you, so it isn’t a choice to dismiss or execute you, so that leads to Ace. Given the way you are lovesick, getting rid of Ace will teach you a lesson—and a lesson to every other marine and pirate as well—, and your head will be focused on doing your job. You won’t rebel against the only people who know your weaknesses and help you be stronger
• The new census doesn’t need you and Garp to vote; it doesn’t matter what a small biased minority things about such a threat
• You already suspect what's going on when they send you across the ocean, and it gets worse when they start to guide you to a weird island you’ve never seen before
• Held. You’re being held across the ocean because they know you can save Ace if you have the opportunity, because you’re too precious to be wasted for such an insignificant matter. You’ll just be force– I mean, invited to a confidential meeting later to establish that your relationship with Ace will be forgiven and forgotten since they know it won’t happen again and you’re such a great admiral that they can’t risk losing you. You will have to sign a few documents and be under constant watch for a few months after it
• For now, you will just sit in this cold cell knowing your love is being executed
.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.
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