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#it’s been almost done for like. three months holy shit

certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 13 days

Note

Hiii! Could you imagine one where the reader finds out she's pregnant during one of Spencer's missions and when he comes home she has a crisis and ends up feeling ill and Spencer doesn't know how to help and the reader doesn't know how to tell him she's pregnant. (Both are already married)

i took this opportunity to set my pregnant!reader series into the future cause i already planned for them to have another child. request is tweaked justttt a little.

“my dear sweet penny, can you hit me with a bus? i want this misery to end.” you’ve been hit with the worst stomach bug or flu or just something that’s been lasting since spencer went on his case, five days ago.

your mom took your daughter for the day when you realized you weren’t getting out of bed anytime soon and you called in your reinforcement of one penelope garcia. the case ended yesterday but the team had to stay an extra day due to weather in their state, so penelope has been keeping you company for the past two days. it was nice to have an adult conversation instead of bluey and the same princess movies.

“okay, if you’re pleading for death that means it’s time to head over to a hospital. i don’t want spencer to hypothetically bite my head off if something happens to you.” her bright blonde hair was your shining sun in your darkened bedroom. and her jewelry were loud gongs with each step she took. “i hate to sound like a bitch but can you like, be the opposite of yourself today?” moaning and groaning as you tried pushing off the tossed sheets.

“yeah, you need a doctor. cause and i quote ‘penny if i even say to change yourself i’ve been abducted and that’s an alien.’ hopefully they can give you good drugs.”

at the hospital they took some blood, made you pee and just did a bunch of other check ups when it was shown you were sick with anything. so after an hour or so your doctor renters the sterile room with his clipboard and a poker face. “well, you’re not sick, but you are pregnant. we’ll get an ultrasound in here to check on the fetus.” talk talk talk and then he left again, leaving you and penelope open mouthed shocked.

“holy shit,” breathing out as your hand rubbed over your still small belly. “i told spencer i couldn’t keep my hands to myself.” telling that to the ceiling.

“oh, i’ll have another godchild! i’m so happy to live vicariously through you.” penelope stood at your side and smiled down at you. you turned your head towards her, “you know when they’re older, you’ll be our go-to babysitter then. so just be prepared for that.”

with the ultrasound done they confirmed you were almost done with your first trimester and that left you a bit shocked. you were three months pregnant but didn’t know, now you understand how some of those other ladies feel. but you were excited for another, but then you were done, seriously.

you tried calling spencer after leaving but his phone when to voicemail, but you didn’t think anything of it. probably feel asleep or out doing something with his team. so when you arrived to your mom’s place you were a bit surprised to see your husband holding your daughter and swinging her around.

“you’re back!” penny the first to speak and move further into the home. spencer and anna both turned their heads and smiled at the bright lady. “auntie penny!” your annabeth squealed with an arm out.

she happily took her from spencer’s hold and moved her away so you could talk with spencer. his puppy eyes and downturn mouth made your heart soar, oh how he’s gonna get you into so much trouble.

“you feeling better? your mom said it’s been a week.” pulling you into his hold, cheek pressed into his chest as his palms rubbed over your shoulder blades and spine. you sighed, “yeah, penny took me to the doctor. turns out i wasn’t sick… i was- i am pregnant.”

spencer’s hands stopped and leaned back, “what?” his brows raised into his curling locks. “how far along?” “three months…” biting into your bottom lip as you watched him go through his mental calendar. you both knew your period was irregular, that’s why you didn’t think anything of it.

“so it must’ve been sometime after annie’s fourth birthday,” spencer came to the conclusion. leaned in to peck your forehead, “are you okay with another?” always making sure you were okay with the decision.

you smiled up at him with a twinkle in your eyes, “absolutely.”

#erin’s blurb requests #a 1k special #erin writes spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x pregnant!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 7 months

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Pairing : Dad!Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : children ; mention of pregnancy ; slightly suggestive ; mainly fluffy though ; Word Count : 1.4k Request : nope! A/N : all of the skz snippets are done!! yay!! These little drabbles really helped me and I kinda want to do another group for the snippets of life... hmmm...

The lock on the front door clicked, alerting you to your husband's arrival. It would be his first day home after three long months of being on tour. Nights of phone calls between you and him would almost always be interrupted by your 4 year old son who missed his father just as much as you did.

“BOO!” You had been in the kitchen when Jeongin came through the front door, rather quietly as well, like he was planning on surprising you and your son, but Jeongyoo had different plans. Your boy had been in position behind the little table for a solid hour just waiting for his fathers return.

“Holy shi-!” Jeongin began, but you pointed at him sternly with the wooden spoon you were holding, stopping him before he could finish the curse word that you didn’t want your son to utilize just yet. “That was a good one, thanks bud.” Jeongin quickly said when he looked down and saw Jeongyoo still standing in front of him. “Do I get a hug? Did you miss me? Hmm?” Jeongin asked, crouching down in front of the boy who was almost like a statue at this point, just staring at his father as if he didn’t understand him.

A long moment of silence, and you were intrigued by it, wondering about what your son was about to do or if he was going to speak at all. He was a lot of things, but predictable was not one of them. “RAWR!” He suddenly shouted, his hands flying up into tiny claws before running off towards his bedroom.

Jeongin, in a pure state of reasonable shock, fell back onto his butt, his eyes wide as they followed the little boy that was full of scares right now. “What the fu-! FLIP!? WHAT THE FLIP?!” Jeongin screeched, quickly pushing himself up off the floor to go into the kitchen where you were, almost like he was hiding behind you. You couldn’t help but laugh, especially after hearing stories from Jeongins own mother about how much of a goblin-respectfully-he was as a child. “Does he do this to you? Are you okay, jagi? Has he been tormenting you for three months?”

You snorted loudly, rolling your eyes at your husband's dramatics before turning to face him, cupping his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his slightly pouty lips. “He’s been a good boy. You’re the only person he’s been scaring, unless he does it at the daycare and his teacher just hasn’t told me.” You explained, turning back towards the little lunch that you had been preparing. “I think he’s doing it because he misses you and he just doesn’t know how to express that feeling yet.”

You could hear the pop of Jeongins lips as his mouth fell open, clearly not on board with your reasoning, but he wasn’t going to argue with it. “Little dude could just give me a hug but he tries to make me shit my pants… got it.” Jeongin joked quietly, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter. “It’s not funny… I miss my son and he doesn’t even miss me enough to not terrorize me as soon as I walk through the door.”

Sighing softly, you turned around once again, your hands firmly placed on Jeongins shoulders so you could look at him and so that he would look at you. “He does miss you, very much actually.” You started, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles of his shoulders, feeling him slightly relax under your hands. “He misses you so damn much, he wants to be just like you. Your mother came over and she was telling us stories about how you were as a child…” It was as if a lightbulb clicked inside his head and you could only smile and nod as you seemed to watch it all start to make sense in Jeongins head. “You really were a little stink when you were younger.” You teased and now Jeongin seemed to have both a sense of pride, and maybe just a hint of fear in his eyes. He knew how he was when he was younger, and now he wondered whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that his son wanted to be like him.

“I don’t think I jump scared my parents like he is though, or at least they never said anything about me doing that. Did they say I did?” He inquired, leaning back against the center island in the kitchen and pulling you closer to him as he did. His hands rubbed up and down your sides, unknowingly sidetracking your brain from answering his question until his head tilted to the side, prompting you to answer.

“Mm… No, she never said anything about you doing anything like that, but he put his own little spin on being a mini stink stink just like you.” You joked, and in retaliation he squeezed you hips, causing you to squeal and squirm against him. “Rude ass. Don’t get me excited. You know damn well we can’t do anything when Jeongyoo is awake.” You quietly scolded, but Jeongin seemed to find more fun in teasing you, his hand landing firmly against your ass with a loud smack that had you jumping and pressing further against him.

“Who said I was trying to do anyth-“ Before he could finish his sentence, Jeongyoo once again popped out, seemingly from out of nowhere, this time making both Jeongin and you jump in shock. His blanket was over his head, pretending to act like a ghost, but when he attempted to run off he ended up slipping on the blanket and falling to the floor. “Ah… shi- shoot!” Jeongin shouted, miraculously holding in his curse as he carefully moved you to the side and ran to help his son, scooping him up and holding him tight against his chest. “It’s alright, bud. Daddy is here…” Jeongin cooed, soothing the little boy's soft whimpers as he tried his best to hold back his cries to be strong in front of his father.

“Did I scare you?” Jeongyoo asked softly, his glistening eyes looking to his father for acceptance, and Jeongin nodded so swiftly, you could almost see the sadness wash away from your son’s face, replaced with a look of both excitement and pride. “I not hurt… I just fell down… I okay now.” He said, attempting to wiggle out of Jeongins hold, but he held onto him tighter, running crazily around the room while making siren noises just to elicit giggles out of your son.

“My boy! He’s gotten a booboo! Nurse Y/N, we need ice cream and stuffed animals! Quickly!�� Jeongin shouted, gently dropping your son onto the couch as you swiftly jumped into the role of nurse to keep up with the impromptu game that your husband had just come up with. “Oh no! He seems to have a case of the giggles! What should we do?!” Jeongin wailed as your sons laughter only got louder, and you rushed over with all the stuffed animals you could carry from his room and dropped them onto the couch.

“I’ve never seen a case of the giggles like this! I think he needs Mr. MonkeyBoots!” You picked up your sons favorite stuffed animal, one that had been a gift from Jeongin when he had come back from tour last year, and Jeongyoo quickly grabbed his, holding it close to him and hiding his face in it as his laughter slowly died down. “We did it, Dr. Yang! We cured the giggles!” You cheered, clapping your hands together.

The game ended just as quickly as it started, and soon there was a silence, but it was calm, it was peaceful. Jeongin knelt down on the floor in front of the couch, his hand brushing through his son's hair and he had a smile that he seemed to save only for his son. “I missed you so much, bud.” Jeongin whispered before leaning his forehead against Jeongyoos and letting out a little sigh. “When you’re a little bit older, I’ll take you on tours with me. You and mommy. I don’t like being so far away from you two…”

“Three…” You corrected him with a soft whisper from the kitchen, and Jeongins head whipped up to look at you over the back of the couch, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked look on his face. “You’re the one who wanted to give me a parting gift before you left for tour… It was one hell of a gift, thank you.”

Jeongin gasped loudly, causing his son who had at some point fallen asleep to stir. “That one better not get any ideas from my mom like he did… I don’t think we can handle another mini me.”

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: starting a family was yours and charles’s dream, and welcoming little baby matteo hervé leclerc was the absolute best day of your lives, and the start of a new future as a family of 3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of pregnancy, hospitals and childbirth & lots n lots of fluff

𝐚/𝐧: well she’s here the first chapter of Little Karter! i’m so excited to write this little series and i really am excited to share the ideas i have with it! i hope you all enjoy it<;3

𝐰𝐜: 1.5k+

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

For as long as you could remember and as long as you had been with Charles, there was never a doubt in either of your minds when it came to having a family. You’d always wanted kids and so had Charles, so when the day had come that you found out you were expecting, it was a day you would forever remember. Nothing about trying for a baby comes easy, it doesn’t help that still to this day most books and movies fail to highlight that. It took you and Charles almost three years to conceive your now 4-year-old son Matteo, it was a lot of tears, pain and trial and error until that very morning you took the test.

▸

Time moved slow as you stood in front of Charles, the three tests you had taken in his hands, tears lining your eyes.

“Ne me mens pas..bébé, s’il te plait”

Charles was on the verge of losing it, his eyes glossing over as he start at you with such a yearning and adoration, you had never seen anything like it

“I promise my love…”

“Holy shit!”

He was quick to pull you into his chest, his arms holding you tight to him, tears hitting your neck as you held onto one another, A moment that would forever cement itself into memory, there was nothing that could top the reaction and love you felt and saw that day.

“We did it Char”

Pulling back he took your face in his hands, bringing you in for a kiss, a tearful smile on his face when he pulled away

“We did it baby”

▸

Charles had been nothing short of amazing throughout your pregnancy, from doctors appointments, to late night cravings and sitting at your side as you experienced the worst morning sickness throughout the first trimester. If you needed him he was there, he made that extremely clear to you as well as Ferrari. Letting them know if you needed him he would be there, racing was his passion, but you were his heart, and he would drop anything for you, all you ever needed to do was ask.

He was adamant about this from day one.

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips as you watched him pick out baby boy’s first outfit, you had gotten to the hospital almost five hours ago, your water breaking, thankfully enough on the summer break so Charles was already at home with you. He was so excited to become a father, you could not wait to see him flourish into his new role.

“Char he won’t know what he’s wearing…”

He turned to smile at you.

“I know baby but-I just want it to be perfect for him, I want everything to be perfect for you too”

“It already is my love, you’ve done so much for me the past nine months, you’ve taken such great care of me...”

A pause fell over the room, Charles placing a little white onesie with red cars on it down onto the change table across from your bed, moving to sit next to you, his hands grabbing yours gently.

“I love you, I would do anything for you, and I’ll keep taking care of you, both of you.”

Leaning down he kissed you, rubbing your cheek ever so softly when he notices a stray tear that had begun to roll down your skin. No further words needed to be exchanged, Charles could see it in your eyes just how much you loved and adored him, and right now that was more than enough for him.

Thankfully you managed to get some more rest not long after, Charles keeping his eye on you diligently, he was too excited and anxious to rest, despite his mother being adamant that he gets his sleep now. As soon as a baby comes along it becomes much harder to get your beauty sleep, but you’d never hear a parent complain, especially not Charles, this was what he’d been dreaming for, and he was sure if his father was still around he would be so proud of him.

It wasn’t until seven pm, that you were dilatated to ten centimetres and could start pushing, it was a pain no one could prepare you for, and a pain that was way worse than you had ever imagined

“Tout va bein, ma belle…tu es si forte”

“Ça fait mal Char…cant-“

Charles shook his head, moving to be closer as he swiped a cool cloth across your forehead

“I know, I know it does but he’s almost here…just a bit longer baby, I know you can do it”

He looked at you with fierce determination, he could see the exhaustion behind your eyes but you were so close to holding your little boy and it was with the next hard push and agony filled scream that his cries echoed through the room. Charles quick to kiss yours cheeks as he rested his forehead on yours, tears in both of your eyes

“I’m so proud of you baby, you did it…he’s here”

The doctor was quick to place the crying baby onto your chest as you sniffled, your hands moving to hold onto him, he needed to be cleaned up still but this allowed you and Charles to connect with him right away

“Bonjour mon petit, tu es si parfait, papa t’aime déjà beaucoup” he said quietly, brining a hand up to wipe his eyes

“He’s so perfect Char…”

The nurses then came over and took him gently, allowing Charles to cut his umbilical chord before taking him over to weigh him and check him out, allowing Charles to come back to your side, a look in his eyes that was only reserved for you and your perfect baby boy

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”

“Oh my love, you don’t need to thank me, I love you so much you never need to thank me for this”

He shook his head

“I do because-because you made me a father… it is all I have ever wanted”

Reaching your hand out to him he took it, kissing the back of it before sitting next to you, allowing you to then lean your head into him, waiting patiently for the nurses to bring your baby back. Of course it didn’t take them very long, wrapping him in a warm blanket and gently placing him into your arms, your eyes taking all of him in.

He was a tiny little baby, but in every way absolutely perfect, he had Charles’s nose and his hair, he was the spitting image of his father, a twin if you must

“Hi my angel…”

Charles watched you interact with your son, smiling as you traced his little cheek with your pinky finger

“You are your daddy’s twin aren’t you? Mhm..”

You couldn’t help but place a series of gentle kisses to his face, just enjoying holding him in your arms, watching as he had begun to move a little

“Char you ready to hold him..?”

A slight look of hesitation flashed across your husbands eyes, he’d been waiting nine months for this moment, so why was he so worried

“My love, you’ll be okay, I promise…you don’t do anything wrong”

“Yeah-um okay yes”

He was meticulously careful and slow in his movements as he lifted the baby from your chest, moving to sit down in the rocking chair next to the bed, he never imagined in a million years he would be holding his little boy in his arms. It was no surprise to you to see his emotions ramp up again as he placed a kiss to his forehead

“Tu es mon plus précieux trésor mon bébé”

“Il est tout à nous mon amour”

Sniffling Charles nodded, the baby sleeping soundly nice and tucked into his arm. You figured he would wake up eventually to eat but for now there was no greater sight than seeing your husband and baby boy cuddled up with one another.

“Welcome to the world little Matteo Hervé Leclerc”

rough english translations:

Ne me mens pas..bébé, s’il te plait - don’t lie to me baby, please

Tout va bein, ma belle…tu es si forte - everything is fine sweetheart (or my beautiful) you are so strong

Ça fait mal - it hurts

Bonjour mon petit, tu es si parfait, papa t’aime déjà beaucoup - hello little one, you are so perfect, daddy loves you so much already

Tu es mon plus précieux trésor mon bébé - you are my most precious gift (treasure) baby

Il est tout à nous mon amour - he is all ours my love

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tfgalore · 7 months

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Test Of Time

“One…two…three…four….” I grunted as I struggled to lift the plate loaded bar. I set it back down, panting as I sat up, annoyed at myself. The last few weeks, and even months, I’d been getting weaker. Thanks to my aging body, I was getting weaker, it was harder to build muscle in the gym, and even people were coming up to me, telling me I looked tired or pointing out slowly graying hairs. I sighed, knowing that my 60’s was something I’d have to deal with eventually. I was suddenly snapped out of my thoughts by a excited whoop from my left. I turned to look, seeing a younger guy benching almost thrice my weight. His muscles were bulging, and he had a grin on his face. He was clearly in the prime of his youth, which made me jealous. If only there was a way to get back my youth…

That thought was the beginning of my obsession with witchcraft. At first, I just looked for ways to turn back the hands of time, to get my body back to its 20’s but I came up with nothing. Just as I was about to give up, I came across a possession spell. An idea clicked in my mind as memories of the hunk from the gym flashed in my mind. A grin spread across my face, as I delved into more research about it.

A week later, I was back at the gym, prepared to take my new life. I wiped my sweaty palms on my sweatpants, gulping as beads of sweat dripped down my face, a nervous expression plastered on. I had no clue if this was actually going to work, but I had to try. As the hunk, who’s name is learned was Sam, walked by, I quickly grabbed him by the wrist. He locked eyes with me, in confusion as he tried to pull away, but I started to mutter the spell, and our worlds seemed to spin.

I could feel my body changing. My wrinkled skin started to tighten, and glow with renewed youth as his started to crinkle slightly like creased paper. My muscles started to inflate and bulge, newfound strength flowing through them as the same happened to my legs and calves. I grinned as I looked down to see I now had muscular and toned thighs just like Sam had before. Our faces started to shift and warp. Sam was panicking. He clearly had no idea what was happening, other than the fact that he was getting weaker and weaker. I stared back up, only to come face to face with my previous self. It was like looking into a mirror, except now, I looked exactly like Sam had before.

I pulled away from the other, grinning. A quick look in the nearby mirror had me smiling from ear to ear as I flexed my bicep and rolled my abs. The control I had over each muscle was amazing. “Holy shit…it worked!” I grinned. Meanwhile, Sam was having a breakdown. He grabbed me, trying to force me to undo whatever curse I’d just done. A slight altercation and a phone call to the police later, Sam was getting dragged out by security guards, cursing and screaming that I’d stolen his body. Everyone assumed he was crazy, a man going senile after the stress of work and age had finally caught up to him.

Ever since then, living as Sam has been such a blast. Everyone was surprised when I came out as gay, but now I’ve got plenty of guys lining up at my door just to be fucked or fuck me. Sam has a huge trust fund too, but instead of dipping into that, I decided to start up an OnlyFans. Something about having guys pay to watch me jerk off or have sex just turns me on beyond anything, and I make some good money from it. I wonder if the old Sam is subscribed too. I’ve even graduated from college now. The old Sam wasn’t doing too well, but with my previous knowledge, I’ve managed to turn that around, graduating as one of the top students. Life really couldn’t get any better…and the best part, I never have to worry about getting old again. All o have to do is find another hunk when the time comes.

#gay #male body swap #body swap #gay body swap

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auras-moonstone · 11 months

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i’m so happy to hear you’re taking jack requests!! there’s a serious drought of them on tumblr 😭

could we get jack x fem!reader with him sleeping over at her place for the first time (or vice versa)? nothing smutty ofc (only if you want to but i see this concept as more fluffy than anything lol). i just think he’d be so cute and shy and awkward 😭 like turning away so she can change, not knowing wether to sleep on the bed or the floor, doing skincare together, cuddling-

i need this man as my bf rn

thank u!!

hi!! this concept is so cute, thank you for requesting it! hope you enjoy it <3 and yeah, i need this man to be my bf too. he’s the definition of boyfriend material.

is it too soon? — jack champion

words: 1,380

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n invites jack to her house for dinner and a sleepover. when sleeping time comes, the nerves take over his body.

Y/N AND JACK HAVE BEEN DATING FOR ALMOST THREE MONTHS. They met on the set of Scream 6, when Y/N was visiting her best friend, Devyn, and Jack is never going to forget the first words she said to him.

“Oh my god! You are the bicycle boy from Endgame” she had smiled at him, and Jack knew he was a goner. They had exchanged instagrams, and talked almost every single day—Devyn even joked about how Y/N texted him more than she texted her. They went on their first date almost a two weeks after they met, and it was on their third date—two weeks after the first one—when Y/N asked him to be her boyfriend.

Due to his long hours of filming and her being busy with college essays and exams, they couldn’t manage to spend so much time alone—only going on short dates every now and then, and lots of facetiming between shooting and study breaks. But now that the movie was done, they wanted to spend every moment together. For this occasion, Y/N had invited him over to her house for dinner and a sleep over.

They had just finished doing the dishes, he had her against the counter, hugging her tightly and placing sweet kisses on her lips, when an idea came to her mind “Wanna do skin care with me?” she asked giving him those puppy eyes he adored, and how could he say no? So he let her guide him to the bathroom.

“So, what do I have to do?” he asked eying all the products on the counter.

She grabbed two pink plush headbands with big bows in the middle and handed one to him. “Put this on, so your hair doesn’t touch the products” she instructed. He nodded and put it on, making her smile at the sight “You are the most adorable human I’ve ever seen”.

He blushed and kissed her cheek as she also put the headband on “Pretty girl”.

“Thank you, babe. Have you ever done skin care?”

“Nope”

“Really? Not even moisturiser or cleanser?” she asked shocked.

“Babe, I don’t know what you are saying” he laughed.

“I’m sorry, that’s unfair! I take care of my skin and it’s nowhere near as good as yours… and you don’t do skin care!” Y/N’s hands moves frenetically as she ranted on.

He looked at her with a lovey smile before leaning down to kiss her “Your skin is perfect and so are you”.

“Mmh stop distracting me” she said in between kisses. “Okay, less romance, more skin care”.

“It’s cold!” Jack said loudly as she applied serum on his face.

“Don’t be dramatic” she laughed. “Now spread it all over your face carefully”.

“This is relaxing” he said closing his eyes. “but you do this every day?”.

“Yup” she answered “Now the last part: the exfoliant!”.

“Holy shit my skin feels so soft” Jack said once they finished the routine.

“Let me check” she said before pressing kisses all over his face “Yeah, very soft”.

“Let me check yours in return” he said with a smirk, repeating the same action she did, making her giggle.

“This was fun, but I’m exhausted. Let’s go to sleep” she took his hand and guided him upstairs.

It was when he set foot on her bedroom that the nerves kicked in. He had been at her house, of course, but never slept over. Y/N had classes in the morning, and he had to go to the set, so they preferred to sleep in their own houses.

He stood there, looking at the bed. Was he supposed to sleep there or should he sleep on the floor? Should he ask her? Would she think he was crossing the line by even thinking they were to sleep on the same bed?

“Jack? Are you okay?” she asked, she had a pair of joggers in her hands.

“Y-yeah” he showed her his best smile.

“Okay… here you go. You lent me this a couple of days ago”

“Thanks” he grabbed them awkwardly.

“I have to change into my pjs, do you mind if I change here?” Y/N asked. She had a bathroom, but honestly she felt too lazy to go downstairs.

“H-here?” Jack asked, his cheeks painted a crimson red.

Y/N mentally cursed herself “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I can go downstairs, it’s okay”.

“No, no! I’ll just turn around and you tell me when you’re done” he answered. “I’ll change into my joggers” She nodded, and he turned to face the door as they both changed “Done”.

After a few seconds her voice was heard “Me too” he turned around to face her, and his thoughts went to the bed and where he was going to sleep.

“Do you have some extra blankets or a sleeping bag?” he asked.

Y/N furrowed her brows, and then her face fell. Were they going too fast? Y/N never thought sleeping over would be such a big deal, but guess she was wrong. Was he uncomfortable around her? Did he think she was implying they should do more than sleeping? Because maybe he read the whole thing wrong and that’s why he was acting weird. “Yeah, in my closet”.

Jack felt bad, he noticed instantly because of her expression that he had hurt her a bit. So, before she could enter the closet, he grabbed her hand softly “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you”.

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m overreacting, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to sleep in the same bed yet. I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t saying that we should do more than sleeping. Sorry if I made it seem like that, you know, with the whole changing in front of you and the sleeping on the same bed thing”.

“What? No! That’s not what you made me think at all. Of course I don’t mind sleeping next to you. It’s just… you are my first girlfriend and I lo-“ he stopped himself. Did he almost let the l-word slip? “and I started overthinking, that maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with me sleeping on your bed, that I was overstepping and I don’t want to ruin anything, especially with you”.

Y/N sighed in relief “Okay. That’s a relief. You are my first boyfriend too, so don’t feel bad for overthinking. I do that a lot too, to be completely honest”.

Jack smiled at her, and put his arms around the back of her neck, making her look up at him with those long eyelashes and hypnotising eyes he loved so much “Now that everything is solved, let’s go to sleep”.

The couple got inside the bed, he quickly pulled her to his chest. Y/N closed her eyes and relaxed, between his heartbeats resonating in her ears and the warmth that his body provided, she almost fell asleep. Until she remembered. She had noticed when he almost said the word, and how quickly he corrected himself. She was not going to let that sign pass, so she took the matters into her own hands.

“Jack?” she said against his chest, checking if he was sleeping.

“Yes, babe?” he asked in a delicate voice.

“I want to tell you something” she said looking up. He nodded, signalling her to continue “I… maybe it’s too soon to say it, but every moment I spend with you just fuels the feeling more and more, to the point that I can barely stop myself from saying it. It’s okay if you aren’t ready yet, but I want you to know that I love you, Jack”.

Silence embraced the room. It took Jack a few, way too long, seconds to realize it wasn’t some trick made by his imagination. The girl he loved just told him she loved him too. And he was just staring at her, but she wasn’t panicking. That’s because she recognized the glint in his eyes—Y/N understood he wasn’t shocked in a bad way, in fact, it was quite the opposite. It was at that moment that she knew he was in love too.

“I love you too, Y/N/N” he finally said. His face reflected nothing but happiness. And their confession was sealed with a passionate kiss that showcased everything they once were too scared to say.

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jack champion fluff #jack champion imagine #jack champion oneshot #jack champion x reader #ethan landry #scream iv #scream #fluff #fanfic

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

Text

country club bathroom part two

words: 800

warnings: mentions of hooking up, no actual smut in this part, angst/fighting

part one / part two / part three / part four

“holy shit.” your eyes take in the grand entryway, the wealth of the cameron family on clear display.

“shit, almost forgot you were a pogue for a second there.” rafe laughs gently. he places his hands on your waist, hauling your body against his, lips meeting yours in a kiss.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, expecting him to lift you up, to grip your ass and carry you up the stairs, to immediately take you to his bedroom, but after a few minutes of kissing, rafe pulls away.

“god, im starving.” rafe groans. you think it's a euphemism at first, especially considering how intensely he eats you out when you have enough time and privacy at the country club.

“yeah?” you smirk, but rafe doesn't smile.

“you're probably hungry after your shift, right? what do you want? ramen, pizza?”

“ramen?” you let out a giggle. “are you sure you're not the pogue?”

“alright, alright.” rafe laughs. “i would take you somewhere fancy but…” you get the implication. you may have been hooking up for months now, but that doesn't make it any less complicated to be seen in public together.

“pizza is fine.” you pat rafes chest, leaving him to call and order while you explore more of the house, unashamed of checking out every decadent piece of furniture.

rafe catches up to you in the living room, coming up to wrap his arms around your waist as you stare out the window towards the ocean, the waves gently lapping the shore.

“it looks just like my view of the water.” you mumble. ignoring the dock stretching out into the water, yours not extending nearly as far and certainly not boasting as many boats.

“yeah?” rafe questions, ducking his head to kiss your neck, knowing better than to suck a bruise on the sensitive skin, as much as he badly wants to.

“not that different afterall.” you hum. you mean it sarcastically, but it does have your mind whirling. these percieved small differences that divide the island, all based on nothing more than the numbers in your bank account.

“don't tell me my favorite pogue is sympathizing with the kooks now.” rafe scoffs.

you turn around suddenly, out of his arms. “as if you haven't been on your knees for me.”

“hey, hey.” rafe says softly, seeing you're actually angry. “i like you y/n. i know i tease you but you give good head. i wouldn't invite you back here if i didn't want you.”

“can't you see i have more qualities than just good head?” you question, not sure why you're suddenly so angry, why the feelings are building up in your gut. you just want to be recognized, recognized by rafe, by the kooks, want the divide to heal, or at least lessen.

“yeah, of course, baby.” rafe tries to reach out for you, but you take a step back, backing into the sliding glass door.

“what did i do wrong, baby?” he asks softly. “tell me so i can make it up to you. if i said something im sorry. i just like to tease you when i say that dirty pogue shit.”

“no, you mean it.” you shake your head. “i know how you treat the other pogues on the island.” you have never seen rafe fight anyone else, but you've seen the cuts and bruises and heard stories from maybank and pope when you visit heywards.

“you're different.” rafe doesn't let your backing away stop him this time, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you into his body. “yeah, you give good fucking head but you're also funny, and sassy. and have a backbone. everything ive done to the other pogues is because they're not like you. they're pieces of shit. probably not every single one of them, yeah. but i don't touch the ones that don't give me a reason to.”

“yet you still refuse to be seen in public with me.” you know you're asking a lot of rafe, and it's not like you can be seen together at the country club anyways. you knew he was only asking you to hook up when he invited you over, but the comment about taking you to a fancy restaurant struck you harder than you thought it would.

you pull away suddenly. “what are we doing here? i mean really. just hooking up? fucking? and we don't even really like each other? im sorry rafe, i don't think i can do that anymore.” you start to head through the maze of a house, needing to find your way out, needing to take a deep breath of air.

“what do you mean?” rafe follows your footsteps.

“if this is going nowhere… if we can't even go out on a single date, i… i can't do this.” you feel yourself starting to hyperventilate, chest suddenly getting tight, restricting your breathing.

“baby-” rafe tries to talk, but you find the front door and flee, running across his yard until you're outside of his fence, taking gulps of air.

you look back and tanneyhill, and rafe doesn't follow you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid

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reidintoit · 1 year

Text

all you had to do was stay - j.m.

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: in which the pogues have been stuck on poguelandia for a couple weeks, and not everyone wants to leave when help arrives.

warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy

word count: 1.2k

It had been almost two weeks since getting stranded on the island, or Poguelandia, as JJ ever so generously decided to name it.

In that time you were impressed at how far along Poguelandia had come. John B and Pope had become experts at hand fishing. All while JJ had done an impressive job of building a shelter. It really wasn’t anything too fancy, given the resources, but having a place to shield yourself from the weather was a win in your book.

The only prominent downside was having no soap to properly bathe with. And that we all only had one outfit, which was also in dire need of some soap.

Another inconvenience we were reminded of was when Sarah got her period, then Kiara almost hours later. Cleo wasted no time in bragging about not having a period to worry about thanks to her IUD.

“Here-” you broke the conversation, “I have a couple of tampons that have dried out since the swim. Not the most hygienic thing, but it’s this or nothing.”

Kie took one from you without hesitation, while Sarah visibly looked revolted at the thought before giving in. “Absolutely disgusting, but thanks Y/N.” Sarah thanked you, walking in the opposite direction of Kie.

“Shouldn’t you keep one for yourself?” Cleo implored, causing you to tense up. There’s no way she knows I’m late. Does she? No.

“Oh, uh-no. On the shot, probably won’t get mine for another month or so.”

The truth is, you were late. As in almost two weeks late. Before this, the longest had been maybe three days. But this was different. You were away from home, obviously stressed to the max. Your period was most likely just off due to your stress. And not the unprotected sex you had.

You could tell that being away from home was starting to weigh on everyone’s minds. Kiara feared her parents already reported her missing. Sarah didn’t know where Ward might be, but it was obvious she missed having a house to go home to. Pope knew his dad must be worried sick. John B wondered if somehow Big John returned while he was gone.

You, JJ, and Cleo seemed to be the only ones who didn’t care to go back.

JJ hadn’t seen his dad in months. Not since him and Kie helped get him off the island. He didn’t seem too distraught about being alone, considering you had stayed over almost every night at the chateau since you two started dating.

While your parents were still around, you knew they weren’t missing you. Or noticing your absence, really. Your parents had never been abusive, they just didn’t care about you.

So, at the moment, being hundreds of miles away with your best friends felt like paradise. That is until Pope and John B noticed a plane flying above on their daily fishing trip.

“Guys! Hey- Come look!” John B’s voice suddenly pierced through your ears, causing you to look up from the fire pit that you were currently digging in, attempting to build the flames higher.

“What man?” JJ asked, pushing up off the ground from his spot next to you. You raised an eyebrow at whatever John B was going on about, watching him struggle to catch his breath while running up the beach.

“There’s a plane overhead! Look!”

As the three of you collectively looked up, you saw it almost immediately, slightly surprised that it wasn’t just John B hallucinating. “Holy shit!” JJ shouted back, sharing JB’s excitement.

“Come on, everyone’s waving it down by the landing strip!” John B continued and started running back towards where he came from. JJ looked down at you, who had gone back to digging in the fire pit.

“Hey, babe. Come on- we have to get their attention!”

“You go, I’ll stay here and start gathering some things.” JJ nodded and leaned down to quickly place a kiss on your forehead before running down the beach after John B.

Fuck. fuck. There was no way you were going back to OBX. Life had been so much better since getting here. Going back to a family that hated you sent a chill down your spine at the thought. Especially if you really were pregnant.

You noticed the plane turning around as you stood up from the pit, then JJ running back towards you, to tell you the good news you presumed.

“Y/N! They’re getting ready to land. Let’s go!”

You shook your head with your back towards him, not realizing that you were frozen in thought staring at the fire you finally had started.

“I’m not going J..” you whispered, unsure if he heard you. He must have, because you felt a gentle grip on your wrist, urging you to turn around.

“What? Babe, look at me.. please?” JJ pleaded, sounding defeated and confused at your sudden decision to stay on the island. You dropped your head in defeat, “I can't. I-I can’t go back, okay? I don’t want to.”

You felt the hand on your wrist release as your boyfriend maneuvered around to stand in front of you. You opened your eyes to see JJ’s face full of concern as you bit your lip, salty tears rushing down your face.

“Baby.. I understand.” JJ reached out to wipe away your tears, feeling the pads of his fingers across your cheek. “I don’t want to leave either. This has been awesome.”

You harshly pushed his hand off of your face in response. “No, you don’t understand! I’m late..” pausing to take a breath, “I don’t know if I’m pregnant, obviously there aren’t any tests here, but I know I can’t go back. My parents.. they-they already are so disappointed in me. I’m free here.”

JJ was quiet after listening to you explain. He was disappointed in you for sure. You wondered why he wouldn’t just say it. Blame you for being irresponsible and potentially getting knocked up. You deserved it.

Tears started pooling up again as you turned away from JJ, who still hadn’t moved a muscle. “Wait, Y/N.”

“Just leave.” you begged, voice cracking.

“I’m not... Y/N, fuck!” he shouted, wrapping his arms around you and turning you back to him. “I’m not leaving you here. If you do happen to be pregnant, I’m going to be by your side every step.. Okay?”

You rolled your eyes, looking down at the sand between the two of you. “You don’t want that.. you’re just saying it.”

JJ cupped your cheek, tilting your head back up towards him. He studied your face as you took a deep breath, opening your eyes to see him smiling at you. “No fucking way Y/N. Just the thought of having a mini you running around makes me so happy.”

“Really?”

“Really baby.” JJ pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Now, please, come home with me?”

You nodded in agreeance, smiling before you felt his lips on yours. There was nothing you wanted more.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #obx imagine #obx fic #obx #outerbanks #outerbanks fanfiction #sarah cameron #kiara carerra

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amber-lucca44 · 1 month

Text

Couldn't sleep and was bored, and kinda hate Drake so um

Drake's biggest fuckups I've caught on this beef

He loves trying to diss Kendrick for his height. Yk like a toddler would.

He tries to say Kendrick's Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers was a bad album. If we're talking critical reviews, it had a Metacritic rating of 85/100, compared to Drake's highest ever rating of 79/100 for Nothing Was The Same. In fact, Kendrick's lowest Metacritic score so far has been 80/100 for Section.80, again over Drake's highest.

...and if we're talking sales or streams, well first, no one ever challenged Drake's sales compared to Kendrick. I think we all know Drake is pretty much unmatched when it comes to that. Second, if sales were a factor to determine quality of music, then holy shit "Despacito" must be an all time magnum opus like nothing anyone ever heard before lol.

Trying to call Kendrick a sellout for doing songs with Maroon 5 and Taylor Swift? Drake calling someone else a sellout? 🤡🤡🤡

The line where he said Kendrick isn't on the big three because SZA, Travis Scott and 21 Savage "got him wiped down". Okay, first, I'm pretty sure this guy thinks big three means just "the three best selling" and uhhh no not quite. And second, and most obvious, SZA? SZA isn't even a rapper, why are you trying to bring her into this? 🙄

The AI to imitate 2Pac's and Snoop's voices. A few points here. First of all, the fucking disrespect to 2Pac, what the fuck. Glad Pac's family threatened him to remove it. Second, Snoop Dogg is alive. You just used his AI voice cause you know damn well he wouldn't be caught dead doing a verse on a Kendrick diss for you. And as a third point, it's just funny you felt like you had to use AI to make a diss track. Ghostwriters weren't enough for this one ig lol.

"Taylor Made Freestyle" was all just him begging on his hands and knees for Kendrick to reply something and give him some attention. Drake took almost a month replying to Kendrick's verse on "Like That". And he's begging for a response to "Push Ups" like a week after it was leaked (and the same day it was even officially released in the first place)

He tried to say the things Kendrick would diss him with. He was mostly right but oh boy did Kendrick do so much more.

Is he a Swiftie too? Cause he wouldn't let her go for "Taylor Made". In his mind, he swears Kendrick wasn't dropping a diss cause he didn't want to interrupt Taylor Swift's album's success, which is just a funny and dumb conclusion to make.

Spends the end of that track just talking, trying to praise Taylor for "managing Kendrick's schedule". 🤡

Drake beginning "Family Matters" with an n word and then going "yeah I said it I know that you mad" really came off sounding like when 12 year olds play online and say the word to seem tough. 😂

"Always rapping like you trying to get the slaves freed". Dang so making songs that actually have substance and meaning means you wanna free slaves, okay.

About these next lines...

Kendrick said he hated the girls you fuck referring to your dumbass being a pedo and hated you trying to hook up with underage girls. Not at any point did he say anything about their color tf.

"I've been with black and white and everything that's in between" okay so all underage girls okay got it. Again that was never the point. 😐

"You the black messiah wifin' up a mixed queen" Drake seriously missed the whole entire fucking point. Kendrick never said he didn't like you for hooking up with white women, what the fuck. And again the messiah thing is just funny.

He mentioned Whitney on "Push Ups", and some gave him the benefit of the doubt thinking he might have just done some wordplay about Whitney Houston being called the same as Kendrick's wife, wasn't clear enough. But these lyrics here are what made it abundantly clear he did want to try to mess with his family. I'm sorry but at this point that's not a rap beef, you intentionally tried to make it personal. Maybe you knew you never had a chance so you thought going there would make it possible to win? As if you didn't have a horrible fucking record already.

"Why you never hold your son and tell him 'say cheese'?" Maybe he doesn't want to expose him too much to the public while he raises him, decent human beings would understand that.

"We could've left the kids out of this, don't blame me" Kendrick said you don't know shit about raising a child based on information that was already abundantly public (see "The Story Of Addidon") and also based on the fact that you, despite having that child, love playing tough on IG and dropping disses using AI begging Kendrick to reply. Trying to get Kendrick's children involved is totally on you, buddy. Kendrick wasn't the one dealing with being exposed with having a child no one knew about and you wouldn't acknowledge.

He loves baselessly claiming that one of Kendrick's children isn't his. Again, baselessly, so literally just gossip lol.

And speaking of baseless stuff, he's really keeps running on his claim that Kendrick has beaten his wife. THERE IS NO EVIDENCE OF THIS. Like at all. In his mind, he probably thinks that since his easily provable bullshit was exposed, he'll try to invent some bs on Kendrick too to make it seem like they're both horrible people. The only piece of shit we know of in this beef is you, Drake.

Not at Kendrick but in a diss aimed at The Weeknd, Drake had to pull out his homophobic card. Disgusting. Fuck, it's so easy to dislike this guy. 🙄

Saying that Kendrick's music only "hitting hard" when Baby Keem writes on it. Is it cause he has writing credits on "N95"? He does ad libs on the song so I'm pretty sure that's why he's listed. Are the ad libs that fire? Lol

"Kendrick just opened his mouth, somebody go hand him a Grammy right now" awww he jealous bout Kendrick's Grammy's lol 🥺

He brought up Kendrick's transgender uncle, and was transphobic to try to diss Kendrick. Just plain ignorant and disgusting as hell. But of course he did. 😑🙄

Tried to blame Kendrick for 2Pac's family threatening legal action for his "Taylor Made Freestyle". Bro what you did was plain disrespectful and it was just bound to happen.

Did he really try to brag about the video leaked of him masturbating? 🤡🤡🤡

And this nonsense right here, was it cause he visited Ghana or something? He's trying to pin Kendrick as a racist? Huh?

...and follows this up with an ignorant, racist, weird ass comment dissing Michael Jackson too for no reason whatsoever. 🤡

Talking to the mirror here lol

Naming his diss track "The Heart part 6" was almost clever. Except for the fact that yk the song is fucking trash.

The first line on this song calls Kendrick "the Pulitzer Prize winner". Yeah pointing out an accolade as amazing as that one at the beginning of a diss towards him will definitely do it. 😀

Having a comment by Dave Free as the cover for the single. Is this his evidence for a kid being his? 😂

Saying you "plotted to give Kendrick information" doesn't even help you much when it's all easily believable based on your background lol.

Denying the child Kendrick is exposing him to have, again, doesn't help your case at all after Adonis.

Goes back to saying Kendrick beat his wife and one of his children is not his, again with no evidence or hint whatsoever, only to go and say he's all about "facts". 🤡

Okay so, be careful everyone, don't leave heart emojis to any child or baby post ever, cause Drake is going to think you're the father.

Why is he even bringing up Kendrick's confessions on "Mother I Sober"? How is bringing up a traumatic potential sexual abuse incident a good way to dodge your own sexual abuse allegations? And that's not even exactly what Kendrick said on the fucking song! It's just disgusting.

And then tries to ridicule Kendrick for being a victim of this. What the fuck is wrong with this mf.

Okay and this one is just cringe. He tried to spin Kendrick's jab on "Not Like Us". B sharp isn't even a thing btw. 😂😂🤡

"I'd never look twice at no teenager" there is literally video of you kissing a teenager on stage, for starters. So you just look at them once before you creep on them how does that work

"Only fucking with Whitney" ah yes the old "I'll fuck your bitch" trope very clever and original Drake

Drake believing some bullshit he saw around about Kendrick using bots to boost his view count is just hilarious. He really thinks Kenny sat down and took some time to actually do that. 😂😂

He thinks people will cancel Kendrick over his baseless battery accusations. 🤡

He ends it with another minute rant like the one he did on "Taylor Made", and starts by saying the beef was "some good exercise". Ngl it is the first time I hear Drake rap at all in a while. So yeah gotta thank Kendrick for getting Drake to actually TRY to do some good music at all. (It's not even good but yk better than whatever trash he was doing before the beef)

"Just let me know when we getting to the facts, everything in my shit is facts" *doubles down on baseless claims of battery and one of Kendrick's children not being his*

#music #kendrick lamar #drake #hip hop #rap #rap beef #fuck drake #it's okay to laugh at him y'all #he's ridiculing himself so by all means proceed #vonnie rants 😗#vonnie talks 💕

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passivenovember · 9 months

Text

"Hey, isn't that Steve?"

Billy almost drops the vase in hand. It's about a hundred and thirty fucking degrees out anyway and it's not even noon so his palms are tiny oil slicks, but he's done good, so far.

He's been careful. Happy to finally unveil his fall collection to the hundreds of Instagram follower's who've been on his ass since July--

But Heather opens her mouth and says, "Shit, Bill, I think that is Steve," peering over Billy's shoulder with these comically large brown eyes, and usually it would be kinda funny.

But the thing is, Heather's working his last fucking never in the way only a best friend can.

She had to be dragged out of their apartment this morning, kicking and screaming until Billy forked out ten bucks to get a starbucks coffee in her even though they already agreed to split today's profits 90/10 because he needed help with the maker's fair.

Billy didn't even get a coffee himself, they were running so late, and by the time the Camaro screeched down Millwork street, kicking up a cloud of dust as Billy frantically searched for the vendor entrance, it was almost 10:00 am. The bitchy volunteer at the gate almost refused to give him the tent he shelled out $200 for because check-in was at 8:00 am and it's almost 10:00, now.

Like Billy can't tell time. So.

He's not in the mood for games or jokes or teasing. Really not in the mood, like. He might drop the cashier lock box in Heather's hands and vanish, all, take your 10% and shove it in your ass, not in the mood.

But Heather trips around the folding table, dropping Billy's favorite plaid table linen in the dirt to clutch and grab at his shoulder like a scared kid.

"Heather," Billy snaps, stooping to save it from the dust with his free hand, "Holloway, I swear to fucking God--"

"Look," Heather spats. Her nails dig into his armpit when she spins him around, and.

Steve's there.

Huh.

He's wearing a volunteer t-shirt. And a fanny pack. And his extra-strength 50 SPF sunscreen hasn't been rubbed into his cheeks all the way so they look like sugar glazed apples where he sits in his little folding chair, two tents over at Robin's candle booth. Laughing.

And. Billy hasn't heard that laugh in what feels like a lifetime.

His bones ache with it, rebuilding around the loss he never really processed but has grown to ignore out of survival's sake. Steve's laugh, it. It's Billy's favorite sound in the entire world.

They haven't spoken in three months.

Not since Steve was inside of him, pumping slow and hard with his hands behind Billy's knees, folding him in half as he mouthed sweetness into Billy's throat.

You're so beautiful, tongue lavish against Billy's fluttering heartbeat, You're mine, baby. I want you to be mine. I love--

Behind them, Milk & Marigold's assistant drops something heavy and it shatters. Hundreds of eyes turn in their direction, dozens of frazzled vendors and their teams alarmed at the sudden stillness, and.

Robin, who grins widely at Heather, and. Steve. Locking eyes with Billy as all the color drains from his face.

"Holy shit," Heather's nails press deeper into Billy's arm, somehow, and Billy thinks, distantly, that she might draw blood.

He doesn't care.

Steve's looking at him. For the first time in months, the world is right and Billy can breathe again and about a trillion and thirty things rush through head, rapid firing so he doesn't have the mental space to register the way plot seventeen aches to topple to the parking-lot under foot.

Somewhere, back on Earth, Milk & Marigold's assistant gets his ass handed to him for being so reckless, and slowly. Shyly. Steve lifts a hand and waves.

Billy's going to drop plot seventeen. He grips its amber neck, instead, carless of the rippling clay under his fingertips. "Very funny," Billy says, turning on his heel. He sticks the vase between plots sixteen and eighteen, his jaw so tense it could hack and slash the sky. "I can't believe this. This is such a fucking joke--"

"--Shit--"

"--I can't believe I thought I wouldn't see him here, I mean. Robin's got a business too, right? A side hustle?"

"Candles, or something. Yeah."

"Of course she'd be here. And if she's here then. Fuck, I should've thought about this more," Billy says, tugging all ten fingers through his hair, "God, I should've just launched the fall collection online, like a normal--"

"Billy?"

Billy stands ramrod straight. All the air rushes from his lungs, his hair standing on end as if the tent overhead has grown lips and is talking to Billy in his father's voice.

It's not that.

Steve could never be that because he's better. Holy.

Steve's so much more real, up close. His hair is longer than the last time Billy saw him, his cheeks and jaw dusted with a prickly 5'oclock that gives way to a mustache up top.

It's incredibly sexy.

Billy hates it, on site, because Steve's moles are hidden like a secret. A sun-ripe memory of the first thing Billy ever loved about him.

"Wow. I didn't think I'd see you here, today," Steve says. His eyes hunt over Billy's face, warm and familiar and so, so soft despite all the shit that Billy said the last time they saw each other.

It hangs in the air, stuck like a wedge between them.

"Billy," Steve says again, soft and full of wonder and ready to scale the enormity of their past. Billy forgot how his name holds weight, when Steve says it. Extra syllables and consonants, worth their stake in gold.

Billy clears his throat. Longs for a glass of water, "Hey," He says, when really he means, I'm sorry, and, please never go away again. I'm a bad man and I was afraid but if you give me another chance, I promise I won't push you away, because I love--

Heather clears her throat.

Billy jerks his head in her direction, dizzy as the world fades back into focus. "Sorry," He says, weary, "I'm an asshole. Steve, this is--"

"Heather," Steve shakes her hand, smile gorgeous and winning, "I know, we met, I think. Once or twice when I was on my way out of the apartment."

Billy's going to pass out.

He's dizzy and sick to his stomach, and then. Steve looks at him, and his gaze settles like a warm, solid weight over Billy so he can't float away. "It's a nice apartment," Steve says shyly, "Felt like home."

Billy wasn't expecting this. To see Steve, let alone talk about the apartment, and--

"Billy," Heather says, clapping her hands together once, "How about I go and see if Robin has any extra tent weights?"

"Sure," Billy says, and Steve smiles at him, and then Billy smiles because Steve's always had that effect on people.

Heather scampers off and Steve shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets. "You look good," Steve says.

Billy's palms are sweating. "So do you."

"Thanks. I feel like shit. I didn't realize you'd be here, even though I could've guessed, if I had a moment to rest with my own thoughts. Robin's working on her fall collection--"

"--Right--"

"--and I guess you are, too. Well," Steve tugs a hand through his hair and it poofs up big like fresh whipped cream, and Billy has missed him so desperately that his ribs rack and break, "That's a lie. I don't have to guess. I know for a fact you're fixing to launch your fall collection."

Billy frowns, "How do you know that?"

"I follow you on Instagram," Steve says, like he's expecting to get told off.

But.

It does something, to the atmosphere. Shifts things. Billy thought he'd blocked Steve on everything, after the first drunken voicemail, but.

Apparently not.

"Yeah, well. The suburban moms love my shit," Billy crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly freezing.

Steve's gaze gets caught on the swell of Billy's arms. "Billy," He starts.

"Look, it's almost noon," Billy says, heartbroken.

Steve doesn't seem to get it. But then his eyes get big and watery, like Heathers, and Billy wants to wrap him in a blanket. "Right," Steve says, "Market's opening soon."

"Right."

"Sorry, I know you still have to set up."

"No sweat."

"Look, Billy--"

"It was good to see you, Steve."

It presses down on them. Everything.

Steve's eyes close like doors. "Sure," He says, and then he's gone.

Apparently, word gets around for events like this.

For the first few hours Billy doesn't have time to mull over his interaction with Steve, because they're slammed with wave after wave of eager Saturday Morning buyers.

Billy's feet ache by noon as Heather works the cash box and he makes laps around the tent, restocking and catching up with repeat buyers.

The event volunteers swing by every thirty minutes or so to make sure they have everything they need, dropping off bottled water and drink tickets, and by two Billy's happy he won't be going home with a trunk full of merchandise.

He counts the cash box, whooping when he realizes that their 90/10 won't shake out too badly. "We did pretty damn good, Heath, and it's only 2:00."

Heather's already used her drink tickets on a couple of Bloody Mary's. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"I heard there's a fried hotdog thing on a stick down by the food trucks," Heather says, and she giggles like any sort of weenie could pique her interest. "That doesn't sound good to you?"

"Eh," Billy says, leaning back in his chair, "I've been trying this intermittent fasting thing. I eat a big fuckin' breakfast of mostly protein, and then a light lunch around 3:00, and a small dinner--"

"That's so fucking stupid."

Billy frowns, "Gotta keep in shape."

"For who?" Heather demands. "It's not like you're whoring yourself out anymore, and you're not gonna let one of your old flings back into the apartment., much less your heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Heather's cheeks are red, as if she's been sitting in the sun all morning. Billy knows her well enough to get that she probably doesn't mean any harm by it, but her words sting, anyway.

"There are other guys in New York, Heather."

"You don't want to get to know other guys, Billy."

"Bullshit. I know you're a nosy lesbian with too much attitude wedged in her a-cup bra to notice, but some of us aren't looking for love. Some of us would rather fuck random losers."

"That's so not you."

"It's a good distraction. I could use one of those."

"It's kinda hilarious," Heather rolls her eyes, "Even you don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about protecting people."

"People like Steve?"

Billy snaps the cash box shut. "You're so bad at conversation Segway's."

"Fuck you, I'm really clever and stealthy."

"Did you talk to Robin about this," Billy demands, watching slack-jawed and furious as pink floods Heather's cheeks. "My thing with Steve isn't any of your business, and it's not interesting enough to warrant all your fucking medaling."

"I just think--"

"I don't care what you think."

"Why would you react like that when you saw each other?" Heather sits flush to the edge of her lawn chair, shoulders squared for a fight. "If what happened between you meant nothing and you'd really rather skip the greasy market-food for some imaginary sex pot you can blow and dump on Cornelia Street the second you're through with him, why would your heart stop beating when--"

Billy shakes his head. "I don't care what you and Robin have to say, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a piece of shit, alright?" Billy snaps. "What happened with Steve, it. It was inevitable, okay? He said he loved me, and I loved him and I still do but that doesn't fucking matter because he's Steve and I'm Billy and I could never be half good enough, alright? Happy?"

When Heather doesn't say anything, Billy shoves back from the table.

"Where are you going?" Heather asks, voice small and awful.

"I'm having my two drinks," Billy says, padding quickly onto the already crowded street.

As far as Billy's concerned, calories don't exist when it comes to alcohol.

He finds the nearest bar cart and orders two shots of dark liquor, even though it usually makes his stomach go on strike, and shells out seven dollars of his own single-person salary for a French 75.

Then he starts walking.

And walking.

At another bar cart, Billy can't stop thinking about the first time he ever saw Steve, pulsing like a brand new heart under club lights, pretty with the kind of looks that made Billy mentally ill. So he shells out another $20 on a girly pink drink with a paper mâché umbrella.

It tastes like strawberries and Steve used to taste like strawberries in the summertime. Billy can't remember what he was so upset about, before.

He feels good. In control.

But then he gets lost somewhere near Broadway and just as he figures out how to get back to his tent, where Heater is likely up to her eyeballs in impatient customers and guilt about being endlessly right in all things, Billy spots Steve balancing a funnel cake on one arm.

His nose is red. Strawberry dappled, which means he's drunk, and he's got a cup of pale ale pinched between his teeth as he figures out how to hold his market load.

The only problem is, Steve's gorgeous and so, so fucking stupid he can't figure out that he's got two hands.

It makes Billy's heartache, thumping a little harder to the left, and he can't remember why he ever left Steve rumpled in a hotel room that night, half-hard and brokenhearted, so Billy takes the rest of his drink like a shooter, and marches up to Steve and says, "You really should be locked up somewhere."

It's meant to hurt. And bruise.

But Steve's whole face lights up and he drops the ale down the front of his volunteer shirt. "Billy," he says, sounding way too bright and happy. Soaked through.

"Shit, your uniform--"

"It's okay, thing's almost over anyway."

"Stop being so nice."

"Okay," Steve says easily, "You're an asshole, and you broke my heart, and now I'm all wet."

"Well, since we're being honest."

Steve frowns. "I dreamed about seeing you again, you know? How you'd. Have too many drinks and look at me and say you haven't been able to get it up since we split.

"I can always get it up," Billy tires flatly, and Steve smirks. It's small and barely there, but. Billy swallows thickly, "I am an asshole. You're right. A drunk asshole."

"Me too. I know."

"I was worried about hurting you," Billy admits in a rush, "I didn't want to disappoint you. I thought I wasn't ready for what we had to be more than just sex, but it already was."

"--Okay--"

"I never bottomed before," Billy blurts out. "I can get it up. You make me pop too quick, you're just. You're perfect and you're kind. You're every wet dream I ever had rolled into one, Steve." The sidewalk is waving, a little. Steve looks like he wants to touch Billy, to reach out and steady him, but he's already holding a funnel cake.

Steve nods.

Encouraging and soft and kind as ever, and Billy's never felt safe with anyone, like this. So, Billy says, choking a little, "I never let another person touch me, like that. My body or anything else. I never did. You're so good, Steve. So I let you touch me and it changed me and I don't know how to be anything else than a drunk, whining asshole. But we happened and I never ached for it before, it fucking. Knocked me on my ass, Steve. You came in and you knocked me on my ass, and--"

"Billy--"

"God, I love it when you say my name," Billy says. He wonders, distantly, what kind of mojo they put in that girly little cocktail because he can't stop talking.

Steve doesn't seem to mind, but he says, "You really hurt me," Picking at the golden crisp of his funnel cake. "Seriously, Bill, I didn't think I was gonna survive it."

Billy's knees almost give out, he's. Hot all over. Burning up with feverish grief. "I'm sorry," he says. He's a hole in the center of the universe.

"I know."

"I was afraid."

"I get that," Steve says. He shuffled the funnel cake in his hands, and Billy wonders how the bottom's not soggy yet, damaged and ready to fall out. Steve puts it on the ground. "Shit's gross."

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna," Steve says, frowning, "We could walk. And talk about it, more."

"Sure."

"I'm not saying we can get back together yet--"

"--Yet--"

"I missed you," Steve says, and he's bright as the sun.

Billy's been freezing to death his whole life, so. He draws close. Takes Steve's hand, "I missed you, too," He says. "Maybe we should get you a dry shirt?"

#harringrove #guys this truly is just word vomit #anyway!#hope you liked it lol #because i didn't do any editing #lol #love ya!

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dreamofbecoming · 11 months

Text

yeah alright this got away from me. posting in pieces, part one is just stobin, no shippy stuff. steddie and rockie to follow. i'll drop it on ao3 once all 3 parts are done

now on ao3!

platonic stobin

rating: t

wc: 3.5k

---

Robin stopped being surprised by Steve Harrington showing up at her bedroom window months ago. Jesus, there's a sentence her 16 year old self wouldn't fucking believe for a second. The Hair, climbing up the trellis her dad built for the roses her mom planted and then forgot about three months later? Yeah right, as if. But it turns out alternate dimensions and sci-fi movie monsters and Russian conspiracies in Bumfuck, Nowhere, USA are all real, so how surprising really is The King himself, collapsing through her window with all the grace of a baby giraffe, out of breath like he- holy shit, did he fucking run here?

"Dingus, did you run here? What the hell?"

"Had to- hang on, Jesus. Holy shit." He bends over, hands on his knees, panting like he just ran a marathon. Which, she guesses, he almost did.

"You have a car, you lunatic, what could possibly be so important?"

"Didn't think about it. Had to get here."

"Is someone dead?!" Oh fuck, Is the Upside Down back? Oh shit, oh no, it can't be back, right? Superhero girl closed the gates! Right?! Oh god, oh no, oh fuck, it's back, the Russians are back, they realized they couldn't let her live after what she's seen, her parents will never even know what happened to her, and they'll kill Dingus too, and dorky little Henderson, and that menace Erica, oh god, they're gonna die, and Hopper's gone and superhero girl is far away and she doesn't have superpowers anymore anyway, which is frankly bogus because what the hell, Robin never even got to hang out with a real live magic person before, which, ok, that's a selfish thought, but that's ok, we can think selfish thoughts and then set them aside and not act on them, thoughts are not actions, thoughts happen all the time without our consent, they don't determine our character-

"Bobs, you're spiraling. Nothing bad happened, I just realized something and I freaked out and I had to talk to you right away. Forgot to call. Sorry, I should have called. Ran straight out of the house. I don't even think my shoes match, what the fuck?"

She's gonna kill him, she really is.

She loves him so much.

"Jesus, you're insane. Sit, you absolute dweeb. I'm getting you some water, when I get back you can tell me what the hell is going on."

He's sitting on her bed when she gets back upstairs, staring at something in his hands. Christ, his hands are shaking. What the fuck, Dingus?

He takes the water and downs it in one go- ugh, sports guys- then flops onto his back and covers his eyes with a miserable groan.

"I know we've got the whole twin telepathy thing going on, bubba, but I'm gonna need at least a little bit to work with here. Give me something. Is it your parents? The kids? Uh, what was her name? From Thursday? Janice?"

"Janine, and no. Ugh. Here." The arm not covering his eyes flops out towards her, holding- ah. A zine. He had promised to drive up to Indy last weekend to the secret bookshop she told him about and get her some new ones, even though she couldn't go with him because her cousin Randy got caught cheating on his fiancée and her parents made her come with the rest of the family to help him move. Fucking Randy. Maybe he should make better choices, so the rest of them wouldn't have to clean up his messes. Jerk.

Anyway.

"Marked the page." Which, yep, there's a purple paper clip stuck to a page near the middle, because Steve knows how much she hates people who dogear books, even books that aren't really books at all, so he's been training himself out of it, because he's sort of the best. Again, 16 year old Robin would have her committed for thinking that, but here we are.

The pamphlet isn't one of the periodicals she sent him for, so he must have picked it up on his own. It looks handmade, just some folded sheets that look like they came out of a typewriter, bound with the kind of twine you can buy at the hardware store. It's called Awakenings. The page he's marked looks like a personal essay, no title, no real signature, just a pair of initials at the end of the page and a half of writing. She starts reading, trying to figure out what the hell spooked Steve so bad.

"I've always been normal. I've always had crushes on men, just like the other girls. There was never a feeling of "I'm different," or "Oh, this is wrong." There was never anything to think very hard about. I'd giggle and blush when the boys looked over at us on the playground, same as everyone else. Later on when I was older I looked at my poster of Harrison Ford, shirtless and hairy and sweating, and I touched myself, and it felt good, just like it was supposed to. I didn't mind thinking of my future husband, and our future kids, and the pretty house with the pretty garden we'd have, just like my parents have, just like they wanted for me. I was normal. Everything was fine.

I thought everything about me was normal. So I didn't understand why the other girls at sleepover parties would giggle and stop and say "Ew, gross!" when we practiced kissing. It felt nice! I wanted to keep going! But it seemed like no one else did. I didn't understand why none of them talked about getting butterflies in their stomach when Laura, who was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, transferred in our senior year, why they seemed so angry at her. Those butterflies were what jealousy felt like, right? So why did the other girls seem to feel so different?

I made my first lesbian friend in college, on the very first day, right across the hall in my dorm. We sat next to each other at Orientation and I thought I'd never have another best friend that wonderful in my whole life, so I'd hold on to her with everything I had. She came out to me the night before Christmas break, hiding under the blankets in my dorm room with the twinkling lights glowing. She was so scared. I held her and told her I loved her no matter what, and she seemed so glad, to have someone to talk to.

When she talked about falling in love with girls, I was so confused. The way she described it sounded like what it felt like to have girlfriends, I was sure. I felt that all the time. I asked her if she was sure she was gay, and she looked so shocked and angry and hurt, and I didn't know how to fix it, so I tried to explain. That what she felt couldn't be liking girls, because I felt that too, and I was normal. I liked boys, so I couldn't be gay. I couldn't be.

I'm glad it was her I said all that to. If someone else had told me about being bisexual, I think I would have hated them. I would have cried, and screamed, and said horrible things. Because I wasn't gay, I was normal, and it was so scary to think that might be a lie. Thank God it was her, my best friend in the world, who I never want to lose. Thank God I listened.

Because I'm not normal. I'm queer. I like men, and I like women. I can love them both the same, but it doesn't matter anymore, because I love her. I love her, and she loves me, and I don't need to be normal anymore."

Robin's face feels wet, which probably means she's crying. She cries a lot, reading these sorts of stories, in the zines she has to keep hidden under her bed, or, these days, at Steve's house. It's never going to be her, she knows. Not here in Hawkins, but it still makes something ache deep inside her, like pressing on a bruise, but in a good way, seeing love happen to other people. People like her. Seeing that it can.

"So?"

Oh shit. Right, Dingus. They're about him right now. Something about this essay in particular freaked him out.

"Uh. It's. A nice essay? I'm glad things worked out for them?"

Stevie lets out a pathetic whine, sort of like back at Scoops when he earned a particularly bad tally on the You Suck board. "Robbiiiiiiieeeee!"

"I'm sorry! I think I'm missing something, what's wrong with this essay? I don't get it, bubba, I'm sorry. I need some context." She does feel bad. Usually she can pluck whatever's bothering him right out of his brain and into the light, where it almost never looks as bad, but she's at a loss right now.

He's got both hands over his face again, and his response is so muffled she can't make out a word.

"Try again in human sounds, please."

"Ugh! I thought everyone felt like that!"

Huh? "Felt like...what, exactly?"

"Like that!" He flails wildly at the pamphlet in her hands. He's sitting up now, hair all askew from tugging at it, and there's a vaguely worrying crazed look in his eye, like right before he tackled that guard. "Like kissing boys and girls both feel nice, and like seeing a handsome guy and feeling jealous of him makes my stomach flutter, and like having friends feels the same as having crushes! I thought that was just how everyone felt all the time!"

Oh.

Oh no.

Poor Dingus! No wonder he panicked and ran here like a crazy person!

"Stevie, can I hug you? Please?" She's not much for physical touch most of the time, but Steve is, and also she's found in the last few months that she doesn't mind so much when it's him. She sort of understands why other people like hugs so much, if they always feel like hugging Steve feels for her. And she really thinks he needs to be hugged, right now.

He nods miserably. She drapes her arms around his shoulders and holds on as tight as she can, hauling him sideways until he's practically laying down on her. He clutches her back and buries his face in her shoulder. She can feel her neck getting wet with tears, a sensation that would normally make her want to claw off her own skin, but this isn't about her. Dingus needs her.

"It's ok, bubba. I'm so sorry. I know how scary this is. When I first figured out I had a crush on Linda Sanderson I cried so hard I threw up, you know? I get it. It's gonna be ok, I promise. We'll make it ok. We faced down evil Russians and giant meat monsters, what's a little sexuality crisis, huh? We got this! We're the goddamn Wonder Twins!"

He snorts at that, which she's pretty sure leaves snot on her neck, which. Ew. Still. Problems for Later Robin.

"We are not, Will and El are the Wonder Twins."

"Uh, nope, no chance, I barely even met them so therefore I am vetoing their application. Sorry kiddos, better luck next time! Find your own nickname, losers!"

Steve sits back, laughing, and she preens a little at being able to bring him back from the brink so easily. She loves him so much she feels like she's glowing with it, sometimes. It almost makes her wish she was straight, because what girl is she ever going to find who loves her this much? But only almost, because. Well. Girls, amiright? Phew.

"So what now, Stevie? You wanna say it out loud? That helps, sometimes. You wanna not say it out loud? You wanna go to a gay bar and find you a boy? You wanna never think about it again? It's totally your call."

"Say it out loud, huh?"

"Hm. It took me like a month, and then the first time I could only say it sitting in the back of my closet with the bedroom door locked and the closet door closed, and I could only whisper it. Just "I'm a lesbian," to myself, like the world's most ironic little goblin. And I had to throw up again after. But it did feel good, once I rinsed my mouth out, anyway. Cleansing, you know? And it gets easier every time." Steve's eyebrows are raised and he's chuckling again, so that's a win. She's not lying, but it is sort of funny, she supposes. In hindsight, anyway.

"Ok. Ok, I can do that. I think. Yeah, I can do that."

She's so proud of him. He's the bravest person she's ever met, she thinks. "You wanna get in the closet?"

"Isn't the whole point to come out of the closet, Robs?" He's smirking at her. Bastard. She whacks him in the shoulder on principle. He may be having a crisis, but he's still a jackass. Her favorite jackass in the whole world, but still.

"Har har, you're a regular Bob Hope. Alright then, bigshot, let's hear it."

A little of that fear creeps back onto his face, and she wishes she could wipe it off, but that's not how this works. They can't make the scary things less scary. He couldn't make the Russians less terrifying, but he could hold her hand and make her laugh and carry some of that fear with her. She can do that for him now, too.

She grabs his hand, and he clutches back tightly. He takes a deep breath.

"I'm...fuck. Ok. Ok, I can do this. I'm...bisexual." The air leaves him in a big whoosh, and he laughs a little. "Yeah, ok, fuck. I'm bisexual. Holy shit, Robbie, I'm bisexual!"

"Hell yeah you are!" She's grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. She's so fucking proud of him.

He's laughing again, a little hysterically, and he hugs her tight again, and she holds him back just as close and thinks oh, he's like me. I'm not alone. I have Steve, and he's like me, and he's mine forever and ever.

When they separate, she looks at him seriously.

"So do you, like, want this to be a thing? Because we can totally make it a thing, and like, get me a fake ID and go to a gay bar and do all kinds of wild shit if you want, but we don't have to, you know? If you need to just, like. Digest this, for a while. It's totally up to you, I just know it took me a while to feel ok with it, and I have no idea if it's different for you but I just want to be what you need, you know? You've been so good with me, and I've never had a queer friend before, so I don't know how, but I want to be just as good to you. You're my Dingus and I love you and I don't know how much of a gay guru I can be on account of, you know, I've never met any gay people besides me and the pretty lady at the bookstore but I couldn't even get real human words to come out of my mouth when I tried to talk to her so I don't think that counts, you know? But I still wanna help! Let me help!"

"Bobbie! Bobbie breathe, you're gonna pass out. I don't think I need a gay guru, I just need a gay best friend, and I have that, so I promise I'm good, ok? Promise. Also I love you too.”

She takes a deep breath, following his lead the way they worked out in the horrible days after Starcourt, when she couldn't sleep without him next to her, warm and alive and breathing, and even then she would wake up in the night with her breath coming short and her vision tunneling and Steve would hold her hand against his chest and breathe slowly, in and out, until she could follow him, and the world wasn't so terrible and scary and loud anymore.

She still thinks about that awful hour underground, thinking she was strapped to the corpse of a boy she never let become her friend, but Steve is always there now when she needs him, and he never complains when she grabs his wrist or puts her head on his chest to make absolutely sure that big, stupid heart is still beating.

When she's breathing normally again, he drops their joined hands down between them, toying idly with the chain linking her ring to her bracelet. "I think...I think I'm glad I said it, and I'm glad we talked about it, but can we maybe just...put it away, for a while? Like it's not...ugh. I guess this is kind of shitty to say, so like, hit me if you want, I guess, but I kind of don't think it matters right now?"

"No no, that makes perfect sense! Like, you still like girls, right?" He nods. "And you don't like. Have a crush on any boys right now. Or do you? Oh man if you do you have to tell me though, it's platonic soulmate law. It's in the bylaws, Steve, don't make me soulmate fine you!"

He laughs and shoves her face away. "Jesus, Rob, no! I don't have a crush on any guys, who would I even crush on in this town? We're not exactly swimming in eligible bachelors. I don't have a crush on anybody at all, I'd tell you, I swear. I know the rules!"

"Oh phew, good. You have to tell me when you do, though, I'm way excited to get you back for making fun of Tammy."

"It was the God's honest truth, Bobbie! She sings like a muppet!"

"Oh my god, shut up, Dingus! Ugh! As I was saying, you super duper have to tell me when you do, but for now, I think maybe you don't have to think about it really at all if you don't want. I mean, practically speaking, it's not really relevant to your everyday life, so we can totally revisit when that changes, but you don't have to like. Join a pride parade tomorrow, you know? You are you who are no matter what. You don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me, not ever."

He leans his head on her shoulder, and she scritches her nails through his hair. It really has no right being as soft as it is, with the amount of hairspray he uses. It's frankly rude, is what it is.

"Thanks, Bobs. I think I'm just gonna put it away for now. It just...another thing to know about me, you know? Like, I'm bad at fighting people but good at fighting monsters, all my best friends are kids except you, I'm bi but it doesn't matter because there aren't any boys to date in Hawkins anyway. Plus my dad would kill me if he found out. Like actually kill me, not "oh geez I missed curfew, my dad's gonna kill me" type kill me, like I think he'd actually try and beat me to death. So there's really no reason to talk about it right now, you know?"

There's a pit of ice in her stomach, and she tightens her arm around him like she can keep him safe just by holding on tight enough. She hates how casually he said that, just like she hates how casually he always talks about how his parents treat him, like he honestly believes it's normal. "Jesus, Dingus. You know you can come here if you need, right? My parents love you, they already think we're getting married. They'd make you sleep in the guest room, but I could sneak you in here easy."

He snorts again. "We're totally gonna end up married for tax reasons anyway, we're never beating the rumors." That makes her snort, too. He's not wrong, though. She isn't going to be allowed to have a wife anytime soon, and if she has to choose someone to be her next of kin, it's always gonna be him. They're planning to move in together when she goes to school next year anyway. No one is ever gonna believe them that they aren't dating, but that's...fine. Honestly, there are worse things. Better to have Steve by her side than not, and if no one else understands them, well, they understand each other, don't they? That's more than enough.

"Yeah, I know I can come here if I need, Robs. It's fine mostly, I swear. They're not home until Christmas anyway."

He takes another deep breath, like he's settling himself. "I'm just glad we talked about it. I feel better now."

She cards her fingers through his hair again, basking in the feeling of her favorite person so close, and so content. "I'm glad, Dingus."

They're alive, and they're together, and they're queer, and neither of them is ever going to have to be alone again.

"Hang on, did you say you've kissed girls and boys?!"

part 2 part 3

#stranger things #platonic stobin #steve harrington & robin buckley #steve harrington #robin buckley #bisexual steve harrington #steve's bi awakening #my writing #robin calls steve bubba and steve calls her bobbie and i will die on both those hills #you can pry their weird nicknames from my cold dead hands #autistic robin buckley #it’s subtle but it’s there and it’s important to me #also her parents are therapists i’m sure of it

219 notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 3 months

Text

TUBBO ; colors

summary/prompt ; the world is mostly black and white until you meet your soulmate

warnings & mentions ; language, cheesey end, reader is described to get overstimulated and nonverbal in very excited situations, set in mix like late 2021 around bench trio meetup

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

Meeting up with your friends in real life was like the plot to a corny fanfiction to you. It was so unbelievable, yet true now.

You'd been hoping and planning to make a trip over with Ranboo, but each time, something had gone wrong. Whether it be problems meeting at the same airport or having scheduled other important things prior, school, etcetera. It never seemed to work out until now. Ranboo already got to the UK yesterday, considering you guys sadly couldn't get tickets together so close to the departure date.

Boarding that plane was maybe the scariest thing you've ever done.

The anxiety courses adrenaline through your veins, causing you to nearly stumble over yourself.

The world had been desaturated for as long as you could remember. At least you could enjoy your video games, being in full color. God, it was almost yesterday that Tommy and Tubbo were teaching you all the colors you didn't know yet. It was like training a toddler.

Thank God screens were out of bounds of this weird infection thing. You didn't know what to call if. You loved color, you loved every shade of every color, really. It was that sense of driving out somewhere you don't go often, and you stare out the window to take everything in.

As you sit in your seat, your leg bounces rapidly, your carry-on backpack resting at your feet. You look out the window, seeing one of the wings up in front of you a couple of seats as you mumble to yourself.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, I hate this already"

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Finally, after the longest, and probably most turbulent, flight of your life, you step out into the world, seeing the outside of Brighton airport and it's parking lot. Phil would be here soon to come pick you up, running late due to traffic.

You sit on a bench outside the building, next to the front doors with your nearly month's worth of luggage around you. Your backpack was filled with your laptop, other device needs, and some clothes and hygiene things. Your suitcase, thankfully big enough, heald all your clothes.

You see Phil wave out his window as he pulls up to the curb, shouting a happy hello. You stuff your things in the trunk with Phil's and Tommy's bags, also planning to stay down near Tubbo's at least for the weekend. You then hop in the passenger's seat, being jumpscared by Tommy who was hiding in the back seat.

"Holy shit!"

Tommy laughs, and Phil tries his best to hide the smile tugging at his lips. "Don't scare them to death, Tommy, please"

"Are you so excited right now?" The blonde asks you, you reply with a happy, silent nod, becoming overstimulated already due to the happiness and the chaotic nature of Tommy already, driving you nonverbal. The jet lag and tiredness also did some damage on you, being teleported to a new time zone.

"They're wearing red!" He smiles, "You're wearing red, we're all triplet-ing!"

You all laugh and giggle, which you assume the two were both wearing red. Tommy was wearing his usual red baseball shirt, and Phil had a supposedly red sweatshirt on.

Phil drives you three all the way down to Tubbo's house, maybe an hour of driving max. When you step out of the car and move the seat forward to let Tommy out, you're greeted with a warm hug from behind, gifted from Tubbo.

"Hi! Oh my fucking God, I can't believe you're here!" He smiles, jumping a bit as he looks up at you.

"Hi!" You smile, doing the same as him, wrapping him in another hug just to make sure he was real.

Ranboo, Aimsey, Billzo, and Freddie stand a few feet away, then wrap you guys in a group hug, Tommy and Philza included.

When you open your eyes, now not engulfed by your friends, the world around you was now painted with color. Tubbo's hoodie was painted a nice forest green color, you saw reds, blues, and yellows on Ranboo's hawaiin shirt, and Aimsey's beanie was the famous red it was over the screen.

"Holy shit" You mumble, looking around to take in all the new scenery.

The group look at you in confusion and see your bright stare, able to tell that you'd gained the wonderous sight of color. You hug Tubbo again, just excited to see him before you get your things from the trunk of Phil's car, and he pulls them inside, placing them in the room you'd be sharing with Ranboo.

Phil departs, needing to run some errands and meet up with some other friends before heading to his hotel. He does a little bit where he abandons Tommy and kicks him and his stuff out, and drives off, nearly late for his lunch with Jack, James, and Charlie.

The day is fulfilled with a Halloween stream, and your little friend group being titled the Cricket Crew. You were officially the third, after Aimsey and Tommy, of that group to gain sight of colors, and it was awesome. You never noticed how colorful your wardrobe was, other than outfits you wore on stream.

You don't think about it much, just too caught up with your friends. But the question of who gifted you your new colors stayed on your mind.

It wasn't until you were getting ready to change into pajamas to have a little movie night with Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy, who was going to be picked up around 11 by Wilbur to stay at the hotel nearby, that you thought about the color thing again.

Who the fuck is your soulmate?

Clearly it was one of your friends, but you didn't see any mixed emotions between any of them, at least you could mark off Tommy, obviously, Aimsey, and Bill, who made a joke about how he was thankful he wasn't your soulmate earlier. That left Freddie, Ranboo, and Tubbo. There was just so much happening in that moment that you really couldn't pinpoint one of them.

You decide to leave the detective work for later, wanting to enjoy showing your friends the true masterpiece that is The Breakfast Club. You sit down on the couch in next to Tubbo, who was laying sideways as per usual, whom also made sure to move his legs so you had room to sit. Tommy sat beneath you, leaned against the couch. Ranboo sat criss-cross in front of Tubbo, making sure not to block his view.

Tommy made remarks, jokes, and commentated throughout the movie, causing the other three of you to do the same. After the movie, Tommy leaves, leaving you, Tubbo, and Ranboo to watch Tubbo's choice for the next movie, The Lost Boys. He had it on his watch list for some time now and wanted to watch it.

During the first Act, he ends up making a little comment about all the colors and how cool they looked on the screen. You almost didn't catch it at first, but you did. Ranboo hadn't, though, making pulling Tubbo into the kitchen a little more discreet.

Tubbo tries to act dumb before giving himself up, unable to hide from your pressing nature.

"Uh, yeah, when we hugged, I noticed it. I just didn't say anything cause I was scared and I wanted to focus on us being friends and I don't wanna ruin that-"

"Tubbo..."

"Hm?"

You wrap him in a hug, "Sorry"

"For what?"

You shrug, feeling the apology was nessacary.

"You have really pretty eyes by the way" He smiles

You roll your eyes playfully, "Shut up"

"You're supposed to love me! You're my soulmate, you little shit!"

"That's not how that works!"

"Wow, drama" Ranboo speaks from the doorway, leaning against it while holding up his recording phone. "Sorry, I had to record this. I didn't know he'd confess so soon" They shrug.

"Ran!" Tubbo exclaims, cheeks dusting pink.

"You were in on it?" You ask them, which you recieve a nod in response. "You little asshole"

Ranboo raises his hands in defense, "Don't blame me! Tommy was the one to suggest making it special"

You shrug, patting Tubbo's cheek before you three return to the couch. "It was either you two or Freddie, glad it was the best option, I guess"

"Hey!"

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The next morning, around seven or so, you sit on the back porch, enjoying the fresh air and the sunrise, which you could finally enjoy in all it's glory. Hues of blue, grey, pinks, purples, and reds fill the sky in which you stare at. You hear the door open and close with a click behind you, and the familiar brunette best friend sits next to you.

"Why are you awake?" He groans, rubbing his tired eyes, "It's too early"

"Says you. You wake up in the evening, if you're lucky"

"I- Quiet, I won't be taking Tubbo slander"

You look back up at the sky with a little smile, "Isn't it just so fucking pretty?"

"Not as fucking pretty as you"

...

"Get out"

"This is my house!"

#lowkeyrobin #tubbo x reader #mcyt oneshot #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #mcyt soulmate au #mcyt smau #soulmate au #cricket crew #cricket crew x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

Devil's Food - Eddie Munson x Reader (18+)

WC: 3.4K / navi / preview / request

Summary: A few weeks ago, Eddie decided on a rather bold body mod: splitting his tongue. Now that it's finally healed, you become devil's food, his first experimental meal

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), oral sex (f receiving), lots and lots of kissing, nipple/boob play, gratuitous use of the nickname 'angel', looots of angel/devil dynamics

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Three weeks. Three weeks of nothing but liquids, nonsensical babbles, and pitiful whimpers of pain, and Eddie’s tongue is finally healed. You’ve been eating with him out of solidarity, but if you never have to have another bowl of bland soup you’ll be the happiest person in the world.

Crumpled up papers are strewn around the room, scribbled down notes from Eddie when his newly-forked tongue failed him in verbal eloquence. You admit, you are going to miss hearing him ask you for applesauce, a slight lisp invading his words and softening them on his split tongue.

Body-mods are an exciting adventure for you and Eddie. A tattoo here, and piercing there, but nothing as bold as splitting his tongue until now. He’d expressed an interest in the devilish procedure for months before he’d finally gained the courage to go and have it done, and though the recovery period almost made him regret it, he’s happy with his decision.

So happy, in fact, that he’s been performing tricks for you all day.

“Babe,” He babbles, teeth hitting his tongue clumsily “Look!”

You turn to glance at him, watching as he smooths his tongue over his lips, each side going in a different direction. It sends a shiver down your spine and you congratulate him, a slight fluttering in your belly.

“Holy shit, Eddie, that’s cool.”

“I know!” He laughs giddily, “God, think of all the sweet shitI can do with this.”

“Like?” You prompt him, knowing he’s going to torment his friends with it, or make it the subject of many cryptic pictures to come.

“Like,” He drags the word out, the two sides of his tongue trembling slightly with the effort of staying together while he speaks, “Kissing.”

He starts off strong, and you wonder if, all along, he’s been thinking about it too. A sly smirk grows on your face despite your efforts to hold it back, “Oh? You think it would be better?”

“You tell me,” He shrugs, suavely gripping your face in his hand and tugging your jaw towards him, “You’re the one gettin’ kissed.”

Then he kisses you, and it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. His tongue snakes into your mouth instantly, all formalities forgotten. Instead of leading you in slowly he devours you, his tongue flicking around your own and up against the roof of your mouth in its vigor.

You rear backwards, away from the incredibly ticklish sensation with a shriek, “Eddie!”

He’s laughing at you, deep and hearty and from the chest, “What, you can’t take it? Too ticklish?”

He lunges at you, the smirk on his face only growing wider as you scramble to get away from him. But his hands are already on your sides, squeezing and poking and prodding up your ribs to make you squirm.

“Eddie stop!” You beg, tears brimming in your eyes from how hard they’re squeezed shut in glee, “It tickles!”

“It’s supposed to!” He wrestles you beneath him, pinning you down as he straddles your lap and leans down to kiss you again. It’s a short one, with much less tongue this time, but the split muscle laps at your lips once he pulls away. Then he drags it along his own lips once more, humming thoughtfully as it recedes back into his mouth, “You got new chapstick?”

“Pineapple-coconut.” You announce proudly, his sticky saliva drying on your lips as you speak.

“It’s delicious,” He decides, “I might kiss it all off of you.”

A kiss is pressed once more to your lips to accentuate his point. You roll your eyes fondly, “You’ve gotten a lot bolder since splitting your tongue.”

“What can I say?” He has a shit-eating grin on his lips as he stares down at you, his hands braced on your stomach, “Now I’m the devil in disguise.”

His cheesy reference has you groaning exasperatedly, “Eddie, that’s lame.”

“Lame?!” He roars and rears his head back dramatically, then cups your cheeks, squishing them together, “How dare you. I have never been lame.”

“Yes you have,” You giggle, your words slightly distorted from how your lips are forcibly puckered, “Remember when you used to have a crush on me? Before we were together,” You reminisce fondly, reaching up to toy with a strand of his messy hair as he hovers over you, curling it through your fingers, “You were always stuttering, and you always offered to give me a ride home, even if it was inconvenient for you, and you bought me a school lunch when I forgot the money for mine, and you-”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, letting your cheeks go. Staring down at you, his eyes light up with indignation, a bashful smirk on his face, “Fine. Maybe I was lame. But you liked it.”

“I did.” You speak from behind his hand, your lips brushing against his skin while you speak. Then you press a soft kiss to his palm, your eyes sparkling with adoration as you gaze dreamily up at him.

A silence falls over the room, serene and fuzzy. It tickles your tummy, makes your heart melt as you watch his grin slowly grow. It starts small, fading out from his smirk but still curving his lips up. Then his teeth poke out, his lashes fluttering as he blinks dazedly down at you.

“Love you, Eddie.” You voice the feeling you knew was consuming him too, reaching up to turn his hand over from where it was clamped over your mouth. He watches fondly as you kiss each of his rings, then an extra to the pad of his thumb, the skin rough under your lips.

“I love you too,” He drones wistfully, bending his arms at the elbows and slowly lowering down to lay on top of you. He’s heavy, nearly crushing you with his weight, but it’s a comforting feeling and you lean into it.

His head nestles snugly against your chest, your breasts squished beneath his cheek. It’s his favorite place to be, beside your heartbeat, and coincidentally, below your neck.

You feel it only seconds later. A soft flick of his forked tongue at your collarbones. The muscle slides smoothly around your protruding bone, sending a shiver down your spine. He feels it.

A soft grin grows against your skin, pride radiating off of it, “You like that?”

“It feels.. Different.” You decide, waiting with bated breath to see if he persists.

Of course, he does.

Another lap at your skin, “Good different?” then a kiss to the base of your throat.

“Great different,” You breathe, feeling his hands shift to your hips.

“I knew you’d like it.” He mumbles against your throat, his lips parting slightly to latch onto a patch of your skin. Hickies feel different with Eddie’s tongue split, now there’s two directions it can go in, and each side swirls differently around the skin before he begins sucking.

“I missed this.” He murmurs, his teeth nipping at your skin, your hands fisted in the back of his shirt, “I haven’t been able to taste you for a while, baby.”

“Taste- Taste me?” Your eyes grow wide, though you aren’t sure why, you know where this is heading.

“Your neck,” He clarifies, pressing a kiss to the slightly sore spot he’d just been suckling on, “Your pussy.”

“Eddie!” You whine, soft warmth pooling between your thighs at how forward he was being, “Eddie please, I need you, ‘need your tongue.”

“I know,” He croons, “I’m gonna make you see stars tonight, babe.”

He hasn’t even started yet, and you know he’ll keep his promise. The feeling of his tongue, slick with saliva and split down the middle snaking along your neck had been ecstasy, and you’re certain it’ll feel a thousand times better buried in your cunt.

He follows your train of thought, dragging his tongue down and flicking it below the neckline of your shirt. Your stomach caves, your nipples already reacting to his close proximity and stiffening beneath your shirt. You’re infinitely grateful you hadn’t bothered to wear a bra today.

Eddie seems delighted at the sight of your bare skin beneath your top, “Oh, were you planning on this, sweetheart? ‘Wanted t’be ready in case I was all healed?”

You nod, whimpering bashfully behind your lips as they press together, “Mhm. ‘Knew you’d want t’touch me.”

“Oh, really now?” His split tongue seems to be giving him all the confidence of a devil, that’s for sure, because he’s oozing cockiness as he laps at the underside of your breast, “Well, I hate to admit it, sweetheart, but you’re right. You gave me a pretty solid three weeks of favors,” He recalls the sloppy, hazy blowjobs you’d helped him through his healing process with, the boy above you reduced to mere whimpers and blubbers at the feeling of your tongue around his cock, “I think I owe you a thank-you.”

He’s certainly not blubbering now, as his forked tongue flicks around the bead of your nipple. You gasp at the sudden sensation, having gotten used to the warm, wet presence at the base of your breast, and his ringed hand tightens around your other tit.

“Sensitive,” He marvels, the palm of his hand flush to your other perked nipple, putting pressure against it that has your stomach bottoming out, “Does it feel better this way, angel?”

“Yes,” You nod, your head shifting against the pillow beneath it, “Yes!”

“I can tell,” Eddie muses, slotting your nipple between both sides of his tongue, “I can feel you shaking, y’know..”

You suppose you are shaking. A thigh tremble here, the slight flutter of your stomach. Becoming devil’s food is exhilarating to say the least, and you can feel warmth bleeding through your core.

“Poor, sweet angel.” Eddie laments, lips pressing in a pucker to your tit, “You were puttin’ that pretty mouth of yours all over me, weren’t’cha? And I just got to lay there.” He hums sympathetically against your skin, “Well it’s your turn now.”

He moves to your other boob, fingers pinching at the saliva-coated, sensitive nipple that he’d just released from his mouth. He ravishes the other just the same, tongue swirling and flicking and splitting over the hardened bud.

“Just relax, sweetheart.” You’re sure he’s teasing you, because his words fan the flames in your belly, they don’t put them out so that you can relax. But he presses on, his breath against your nipple coming out hazy and gruff, “‘Gonna take care of you, now.”

He sends one last fond squeeze to your nipple, retracting his tongue slowly after. The air of his bedroom is much cooler than you’d prefer, drying his saliva on you and giving your skin a sticky sheen.

Though his tongue is no longer skating across the sensitive skin of your chest, he trails it down your stomach, flicking it into the dip of your belly button. You shriek at the unexpected ticklish sensation, craning up to swat at his shoulders.

“Eddie!” You chide, covering your tummy protectively, “That tickles.”

“Sor-ryI.” He huffs, “‘M not allowed to have a little fun?”

“Not now,” You whimper, fire slowly burning through your core and up into your belly, heat pooling there, “Please jus’ touch me.”

Sympathy, sticky and sweet, twists up Eddie’s face. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to the skin of your inner thigh, his nose rutting into the crease between your thigh and your waist.

“I’m sorry, angel.” He croons, nuzzling his face into your soft skin, “I’m just teasing.”

“Don’t!” You insist, your bottom lip protruding in a picturesque pout, “Need your- ah!”

Eddie is very good at following directions, at least when he wants to. You know this, you’ve known this for a while, so when you ask him to eat you out, and he does, it shouldn’t come as a shock.

But it does, the forked muscle prodding at your slit, sliding over your entrance, has you jolting. You’d asked him to do it, you’re not sure why it surprises you.

“Fuck,” You swear, the sound harsher and more guttural than you’d have imagined possible coming from your throat, “Jesus Christ!”

“Eddie Munson,” Eddie corrects you, and you feel the smug smirk on his lips as they press to your core, “But you were pretty close.”

“Shut up,” You scoff, reaching down to grab a strand of his hair and yank it, “I said stop teasing!”

The groan that he lets out at the feeling of you tugging his hair is unintentional, but it only fans the flames of desire that burn in your belly. His tongue prods harder at your entrance, finally slipping past your slit and delving into your cunt, and he’s not expecting the gush of slick that rushes out to meet him.

“Shit,” He swears, the word near-unintelligible when murmured into your cunt, “So fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

He laps at you like a man damned, sucking nectar from the font of life. You’re his ambrosia, his last meal, his saving grace from the way his tongue devours your weeping cunt.

You can hear your arousal on his tongue, the sticky liquid tripping up his words and dripping down his chin, leaving his skin a shiny, glistening mess. He noses fondly at your clit, swiping his tongue up with a squelch to lap at it, “Have you thought about this before now?”

“Mhm,” You nod, one hand still tangled in Eddie’s locks, “Ever- ever since you got it done. Since.. Since before the procedure, too. Just hearin’ you talk about it was enough.

He chuckles, the sound low, deep, and vibrating through your cunt, “Oh? Well, looks like my sweet little angel isn’t much of an angel at all, are you? You’re a slut.”

He spits the word out like a bad bite of food, like something that churns his stomach and puts a frown on his face. So why does it have a pang of arousal shooting through your core?

“A filthy little slut,” He goes on, mouthing sloppily at your cunt as his words get lost between your thighs, his nose now firmly bumping your clit, “Who can’t stop thinkin’ about my tongue.”

Between long, smooth, silky strokes through your cunt, the tips of both sides of Eddie's tongue flick teasingly against your clit. It makes you writhe, his ringed fingers curling around your thighs to hold you down.

"What," He simpers, his voice vibrating through your weeping cunt, "'S too much for you? I thought you were begging," He presses his tongue flat against your slit, words coming out mottled as he holds pressure there for a split second, "For my tongue."

"Eddie," You speak through a strangled gasp, his devilish tongue lapping up the divine substance that flows freely from your pretty pussy, "Eddie please, don't tease me!"

"My sweet angel," He croons, popping a kiss to your puffy clit, "'M I bein' too mean to you?"

You nod feverishly against the pillow behind you, relishing in the reward you get in the form of a stroke of Eddie's tongue through your cunt.

"I'll play nice now, sweetheart." Eddie promises, and you've never understood the expression 'speaking with a forked tongue' until now. He does not play nice, both sides of his tongue curl around your clit and slot it between them, then squeeze, and you're nearly blacking out.

The moan that falls from your lips, sinful and wanton, only makes his tongue squeeze harder around your clit. The pressure is firm, but his tongue is soft and spongy, and interesting combination that, when paired with his fingers raking through your gaping cunt, has your orgasm rocketing towards you.

Your hips lift off of the bed, and you unconsciously press your pussy even further into Eddie’s face, “Eddie, more! More, please!”

“Greedy,” He taunts you, dropping his tongue from your clit to your cunt once more, his nose resuming its earlier position against the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue, forked and writhing, delves into your cunt, prodding and pressing and pushing against your walls and stretching you with every lithe flicker. His fingers are still pumping lower, working you further open than you thought was possible. The final straw comes when he braces his tongue flat against your cunt, dragging it tantalizingly firmly through the mess of slick through your entrance, and up to your clit, soaking it in your own arousal. The soft flick of his forked tongue, each side brushing against your sensitive bud, paired with the warm gush of arousal that coats it, sends you over the edge, your hips stuttering where you’re holding them off of the bed and your hand tightening in his hair.

You ride out your orgasm on his tongue, using the fistful of hair that you’ve grabbed to mash his face further into your cunt. You’re surprised he can breathe, but you’re certain that if he had to choose oxygen or your throbbing cunt, he’d choose you anyday. He groans into your cunt, deep, raspy ‘good girl’s only furthering your stimulation as you rock against his face. His nose repeatedly bumps your clit, a rhythm that helps you cum until every last jolt of pleasurable stimulation has turned to a mild burning sensation.

“Eddie,” You moan pathetically, your stomach still aflame, “My god, that- that was so good.”

“I can tell,” He smirks, slick still smeared over his chin and even shining on his nose. He licks his lips, once more showing off his tongue tricks as each side separates to slide over a different side of his mouth. Once he has your arousal gathered on his tongue he stands from between your thighs, giving your pussy a fond pat that makes you jolt in your place.

“I take it you like my tongue,” Eddie drawls amusedly, joining you on the bed once more, and hovering over where you’re still flat on your back with a pillow under your head.

“Yeah,” You nod, breathless as you try mustering a smile through your post-orgasm haze, “Yeah, that was- wow.”

“Wow.” He nods, using his thumb to swipe away a smear of slick on his nose and offering it up to you. You eagerly surge forwards to wrap your lips around his thumb, loving the way that he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue and watches your throat bob while you suckle him.

“All clean,” He tuts after a moment, pulling his finger out of your mouth, “Now let’s get the rest, angel.”

He leans forward, chin jutted out slightly. You’re only confused for a second on what to do, then your tongue snakes out of your mouth, much more in one piece than his is, and swipes across his chin. The taste of your own cum is one you’ve grown used to while dating Eddie, because he’s very eager to kiss you with it all over his mouth. You clean him up with long, languid strokes of your tongue, raking over his chin, lips, and flicking once against his nose. He chuckles deep and genuine, then presses his lips to your own, his tongue still stained with your arousal as it darts between your lips.

Kissing Eddie has always involved a lot of tongue, but now that it’s the feature of the day, it’s relentless. He flicks it over your lips, rolls it languidly against your tongue, and you swear no one has ever gotten closer to actually sticking their tongue down your throat. Each side of his tongue roves independently over your own, and the sensation draws a whine out of you, long and desperate and needy.

He only pulls away to tease you, nudging his nose against your own and pressing his forehead to yours, “I think this is the most fucked-out I’ve ever seen you, and I only used my tongue.”

“‘Feels really good,” You absentmindedly hum, already pressing your lips to his once more to try and entice him, “Like- like the best I’ve ever felt, Eds.”

“Really?” He quirks an eager eyebrow up, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to do that again, then.”

“Please.” You nod feverishly, playing with the strand of hair you’d yanked on only minutes prior.

“Well you helped me a lot while I was healing,” Eddie muses casually, though there’s heavy intent behind his words, “What, like every night? Really seems unfair I only help you once.”

“Wait!” Your eyes widen as his hand snakes over your waist, already squeezing your hip suggestively, “Water first.”

“Water?” Eddie echoes incredulously, a frown tugging his brows down, “You’d rather have water than my tongue?”

“Eddie I’m gonna pass out,” You insist, still fuzzy-headed from your orgasm, “I need water.”

“Whatever you say,” He chuckles, untangling himself from you as he trudges to the kitchen to fetch you a glass, “But you’d better chug it, babe, ‘cause we’re shooting for three more before lunch.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

tags: @sweetpeapod @zmxchs @lightvixxen @sillypurplemurple @kittenslovie @frogers @tayhar811 @live-the-fangirl-life @thefreakofhawkins86

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thirstydiglett · 8 months

Text

IT’S FINALLY HEREEEEEEEE

@badly-drawn-doflamingo asked me for some Corazon x male!reader like a month ago and I SWEAR it was just gonna be a little thing but it got out of control and anyway here it is

————————NC17 minors DNI———————

To Know, To Not Be Known

Summary: You’re a new Ensign at headquarters, fresh from the Academy but not nearly as strong as your fellow Ensigns. Thankfully your kind and very handsome Commander is here to help you train and work on those deep rooted self esteem issues of yours… but only if you muster up the courage to let him in.

Characters: Marine!Donquixote Rocinante, male!reader, Bellemere and Sengoku get cameos because I love them

Pairings: Rocinante x male!reader obivously

Warnings: Graphic violence, minor (original) character death, major character injury, small amounts of homophobia, discussion of trauma especially starvation, sex with an authority figure, oral sex, rimming, minor cum play, anal, Diglett has a size kink so that’s in here too, I think that’s everything but I might have missed something pls let me know

Word Count: 14k hahaha what is wrong with me

———————————————————————

“See ya later, Bellemere!”

You adjusted the collar of your uniform, inspecting it for any stains, and walked out of the dining hall. You waved to your best friend as she bussed her tray and headed the other direction. It would have been nice to have her, you mused, especially today of all days. Frustratingly, you and Bellemere had been put into different squadrons after graduating the academy. There, you’d been attached at the hip, The only two queer (or at least openly queer) infantry in your graduating class.

But now it was a whole new world, and everything was different. Marine Headquarters. Who would have guessed they’d place you here of all places? True, you had a devil fruit and that was interesting, but you’d never worked particularly hard back at the academy. Too busy goofing off with Bellemere and having crushes on boys who invariably turned out to be straight, in all honesty. You’d always done decently despite your slacking off, but never in a thousand years would you have guessed you’d end up at Headquarters. Fucking Headquarters.

Bellemere, on the other hand? That girl deserved it. She was up at 4 every morning to work out before morning workout. She could recite marine history from the end of the void century up until fifteen minutes ago. And her sailing skills? Top notch by anyone’s standards. All while getting more pussy than most of the boys you knew.

When you found out both of you were heading to headquarters together, you’d almost asked if she had pulled some kind of string to bring you along with her. But no—they’d requested you specifically. How the hell could you deserve to be here, with the elites?

Well, you were about to find out. Day one of training with the big boys was about to commence.

As you headed over to the training grounds where your squadron was scheduled to meet—6 AM on the dot—you couldn’t help but be in awe of the men and women around you. A man with hair at least three feet tall was deep in conversation with—holy shit, was that Monkey D. Garp?? And you could have sworn you just walked past a literal giant…This place was going to take some getting used to.

Arriving at your squadron’s assigned training fields—a grassy expanse littered with boulders and submerged in a thick early-morning fog—your heart leaped to realize that everyone else was already there and standing in ranks. Oh shit, were you really late on your first day? Frantically, you glanced at your watch. Nope, still 5:59. Then why…?

“Hey, recruit!”

A truly huge man was staring at you from the field, his coat around his shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, and not just because he was glaring at you with a vengeance. The man was truly… well, gorgeous. Tousled blond hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring large, lidded red-brown eyes. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his white shirt barely obscuring his well-defined musculature. You could feel your jaw drop a little as you took him in.

Oh shit. You should probably say something back.

“Uhh—y/n l/n, reporting for duty, sir!”

You jogged over and fell into line, saluting the man who was clearly to be your superior officer. He slowly walked in front of you, towering over you as he glared into your eyes.

“And you’re here thirty minutes late because…?”

You flushed. You couldn’t deny, the way his eyes bored into yours was sending lightning bolts through your stomach. “I, um, I was told to be here at 0600 hours, sir!”

“And unlike all the other ensigns, you didn’t get the memo I sent to the barracks last night that I wanted you here at 0530?”

You gulped. You’d actually snuck into Bellemere’s room last night to smoke the weed she’d snuck in and watch old cartoons on her visual Den Den Moshi. And you hadn’t gotten back until almost 1, far too late to receive a message.

“I was asleep, sir!” You blurted out, the lie slipping between your teeth with surprising ease. The man staring down at you raised an eyebrow.

“Asleep, eh?”

Oh, shit. He doesn’t buy any of this, does he? Am I about to get killed on my first day? Yeah, this guy looks like he could kill me…

“Be here on time tomorrow.”

The man turned and walked away without another word, leaving you stunned. Did I… Did I just get away with that?

Facing the line of ensigns, most of whom were barely hiding their snickering at you, the man raised his hand. With a quick glance at you and a—was that a smile?— he snapped his fingers.

The world went silent.

Out of nowhere, the voices of the other ensigns were deadened. The sound of the wind, the grass—holy shit, even your heartbeat—had completely disappeared. The ensigns looked around at one another, baffled and frightened. Suddenly, a voice cut through the dense silence.

“Calm down. It’s my devil fruit.”

You and the other ensigns looked up to see your superior officer watching you, a small smile on his face.

“I’m Commander Donquixote Rocinante. I’ll be leading this squadron. We’ll be working here to start with, but we may be going to sea on missions within the next year or so.

The powers that be want me to tell you that you all are here because you’re elite, the best of the best that the academy has to offer. Personally, I think that’s a load of bullshit. You’ve yet to prove you have anything to offer on the battlefield and you certainly haven’t proven that you know anything about executing Justice.

It’s my job to keep an eye on you, and if I see any shit I don’t like, you’ll be up for reassignment in a heartbeat.” (Oh shit, was he looking at you when he said that?)

“Understood?”

Rocinante snapped his fingers, and with a gentle woosh the sound returned to the world.

“Now, let’s get started. Ensigns, give me 100 push-ups!”

The peaceful morning shattered as over two dozen of the Marines’ finest dropped to their hands and toes, yourself included.

____________________________________

The first three weeks of training passed in a blur. Commander Rocinante pushed your squadron hard, working mostly on hand-to-hand combat skills and marksmanship, Rocinante’s two specialties. Everyone else was obviously in the right place—your compatriots were strong and tough, pushing themselves well past their limits for their commander.

And he paid them back in kind. Commander Rocinante was proving to be a surprisingly charming, supportive superior. He often bought the squadron drinks after a long day of training, and his goofiness and clumsiness off the battlefield put everyone at ease. While fighting, like many of the Marines, he was serious and intense—moving quickly and elegantly and using his power to sow confusion and cripple the enemies’ senses—but as soon as training ended Commander Rocinante was the kindest, most open-hearted (and admittedly the most disaster-prone) leader that anyone could ask for.

Except he appeared to hate you specifically.

You knew why—you were by far the weakest member of your squadron. You worked hard, sure, but you couldn’t quite do as many pushups, run as many miles, dodge as many punches. If you were Commander Rocinante, you would have been annoyed too. Of course you would have. But he was just so—so cold to you.

He greeted the others with nicknames, arms around shoulders, jokes about whatever was in the news. You got a chilly nod; you weren’t even good enough for him to call you by your name. After training he was quick to call out the other ensigns for their hard work and improving skills with swords or martial arts. You got a criticism or you got nothing at all. Other ensigns ragged on the commander for his famous clumsiness and he laughed right along with them. You cracked one joke when he tripped on a rug and got nothing more than a dead-faced scowl.

It wasn’t like you didn’t get it. But still, it hurt like hell to be the only one who didn’t have some inside joke with him, the only one who he didn’t personally invite to sit with the squadron at meals, the only one who was this weak and useless and—

“Ensign! Keep your head up!”

At the sound of Commander Rocinante’s voice, you shook yourself out of your thoughts with just enough time to dodge a kick aimed at your left ear. Henri, one of your fellow ensigns, cursed as he barely missed you. “That won’t happen again, y/n!”

You swallowed and tried to clear your head. Maybe this was why you were always fucking up during training—couldn’t stay focused to save your life.

You returned Henri’s kick with a right hook, but he ducked before you could hit him. Losing your balance, you were left wide-open, and Henri used the opportunity to strike at you with his short sword. The tip of it brushed your skin as you leaped back with a shout.

“Come on, Ensign!” Commander Rocinante shouted from the sidelines. “Block him! Don’t just dance around like an idiot!”

Your stomach twisting at his insult, you unsheathed your own sword. What the fuck is his problem? Why can’t he cut me a break? With (frankly uncharacteristic) aplomb, you swung hard from overhead. Henri reached up to block, but your strike still had enough force to knock him back several feet.

“Yes!” It was your first solid hit of the fight, and the cheer came out before you even realized it. You glanced nervously back at Commander Rocinante, eager for his approval. Sure enough, the blond man’s lips were curled ever so slightly upward into a smile.

You grinned despite yourself. Finally, you were doing something right. Maybe now you’d feel his hand on your shoulder at the end of training today, instead of watching it touch someone else’s. Now all you had to do was—

“OOF!”

You grunted and stumbled back again as Henri swung back, the flat of his sword hitting you hard in the face. Tripping backward with the force of the hit, you felt your legs collide with something very solid—one of the large rocks that littered the training field. You lost your balance and fell onto the rock hard…

And your sword flew from your grip.

The next part happened in slow motion. You watched, upside down on the boulder, as your sword careened through the air, spinning as it did so. You watched its trajectory as it pointed downward and finally landed…hard…directly in someone’s foot.

Your face turned green when you looked up to see that the foot belonged to none other than Fleet Admiral Sengoku.

“Da-I mean, Fleet Admiral! Are you alright?” Rocinante was there in a second, helping Sengoku over to a rock to sit down. What the hell is he even doing here, anyway?

You were close to being sick with fear when Sengoku took a look down at his foot—and started laughing.

“There’s always one, isn’t there, Commander?”

“Fleet Admiral, we need to get you to the sick bay right now,” Rocinante said frantically, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull in panic as he stared at Sengoku’s wound. “Ensigns Aleppo, Kingston. Help the Fleet Admiral there immediately.”

The ensigns, a short girl with bright green eyes and a barrel-chested young man with a thick beard, obeyed quickly. As they positioned themselves underneath each of Sengoku’s massive arms, your commander turned his attention to you. With the most withering glare you’d ever seen from him, the huge man all but snarled—

“Ensign y/n. Be in my office in five minutes. Understood?”

Swallowing, you nodded. In the distance, you could hear Sengoku laughing as he was helped away.

“I remember when it was you, Rocinante! I remember when that was you!”

————————————-

Tick

Tock.

Tick

Tock.

The silence—broken only by the sound of the clock on Rocinante’s wall—was palpable, so thick you could almost see it hanging in the air. Rocinante stared down at you from the other side of his desk, head resting against tented fingers, his expression unreadable. You could feel the sweat beginning to form on the back of your neck.

Finally, you could take it no longer. “Commander, I am so, so, so sorry—“

“Silent.”

Your voice cut off suddenly. You hadn’t known Rocinante could do that—just shut off your sound like you were some kind of Den Den Moshi.

He stared at you in silence for several excruciating moments, watching you squirm in your seat. Finally, the blond’s lips parted.

“Ensign y/n… What the hell is going on with you?”

You blinked. Not what you’d expected him to say.

“They send you to me and tell me you’re one of the most promising ensigns we’ve ever had. Put me in charge of training you because for some reason they think I’m the man for the job. And this is the kind of shit you pull?”

You visibly gulped, still muted from Rocinante’s silent. What the hell was he talking about, ‘promising’?

“I’ve trained ensigns like you before, ones the Academy calls its best and brightest. They’re always cocky, arrogant little shits who put themselves before their missions and the people they’re pledged to protect. But you…” he leaned across the table, pressing his folded hands to his lips. “You’re clearly smart, strategic, yet you can’t fight to save your life. I can’t figure you out.”

Your face flushed. Him, spending his time thinking about you. The image of him lying on his bed, thoughts full of you, his hand perhaps unzipping his white jeans and —fuck, stop it y/n. Stop wanting stupid shit you can’t have.

You opened your mouth to respond, and mentally kicked yourself when you remembered that you were still muted.

“Oh!” Rocinante laughed suddenly. “Sorry about that.” With a sheepish grin (goofy and endearing despite the tenseness of the situation) he snapped his fingers. “Go ahead and speak freely, Ensign.”

You sighed. You’d felt your frustration building since the beginning of your conversation, and finally it began to spill over.

“First of all, rude putting me on mute like that.”

Rocinante looked away, traces of a smile still present on his face. “Sorry about that.”

“Second of all, what the hell do you mean calling me the best and brightest? I was like, a C student at best at the Academy. I have no idea why they sent me to headquarters of all places.”

Rocinante blinked, his expression shifting into one of surprise. “Did they… did they not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Rocinante bit his lip, as though trying to decide something. Finally, he appeared to come to an answer.

“Ensign, you scored higher on the intelligence test than anyone has in the last three years.”

Your mouth dropped as he fixed you with that intense stare.

“I’m sorry, what??”

“Problem solving, pattern recognition, navigation, strategic planning… you scored almost perfectly in all of them. People don’t just get that kind of result unless they really are something special.”

“I…” your mouth opened and shut dumbly, like a fish.

Rocinante waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t care about any of that one way or another as long as you show your worth in my squadron. Your fighting skills right now aren’t up to par, and you know it.”

Your eyes were beginning to feel hot, and you detested yourself for having such a childish response to all that was going on. Fucking hell, you were supposed to be a Marine.

“Commander—I can be better.”

“You will be. Get to the training grounds an hour early starting tomorrow.” He scowled and looked away, gritting his teeth for a moment. “I’ll be—uh—training with you privately in the mornings from now on.”

You felt yourself flush from head to toe. Private training with Rocinante? Every fucking day? You tried to ignore the image filling your head of your tall commander bending you face down over one of those boulders, filling you up with his surely massive cock, his hand tangled hard into your hair. Calm down, y/n, Jesus. The guy fucking hates you anyway.

You swallow, returning your attention to the man in front of you.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Good,” Rocinante said curtly. “Go get lunch. I’ll see you at our afternoon duty.”

You stood up, stumbling a little, unable to believe everything that had just happened. You hadn’t even gotten in trouble.

“Oh, and Ensign y/n?”

You turned back to look at him. “Y-yeah?”

“Those tests weren’t wrong. The-“ he bit his lip—“the intelligence ones I mean. Just because you’re not fighting yet doesn’t mean you’re doing poorly. Even the other ensigns can see it.”

It was all you could do to make it out the door.

Leaving your Commander’s office, your mind was filled to the brim with thoughts about him. The way he’d laughed kindly one minute—rich and melodic, like water filling a stone bowl—glared at you the next. His claims about your intellect; his judgement of your failures. Why couldn’t you get a read on him? God, why did that only make you want him more?

Sitting on Bellemere’s bed that night, you were even less sure.

“So he really didn’t even reprimand you for stabbing the Fleet Admiral? And you’re still convinced this guy hates you?”

“You don’t know what he’s like, Belle-chan!”

“I’ve heard stories about him. Everyone has. He’s supposed to be a pretty good guy. Didn’t he, like, get his promotion to commander because he helped smuggle a whole town’s worth of people off an island that was being destroyed or something?”

“And then he fought to grant them asylum and Marine protection, yeah. I’ve heard the story too.” You pursed your lips, looking down. “What I mean is, you haven’t seen what he’s like around me.”

Bellemere chuckled. “Ah. Yeah, fair.”

A moment of silence—silent like Rocinante silent like that impenetrable bubble around his office silent like his footsteps on the training field silent like his—passed before she spoke again.

“You like this guy, don’t you?”

Your pulse quickened. “What the hell are you even talking about?” You snapped, more aggressively than you intended.

Bellemere bursts out laughing. “That’s exactly what I thought.

“Look, y/n. The way I see it, you have a golden opportunity here. Personal training, every day, from a guy like Rocinante? I’d kill for that. Work hard. Be a better fighter. Show him he was right to give you the second chance he gave you today. Maybe he’ll respond to that.”

“And maybe he won’t.”

“So who gives a shit?? At the very least you’ll be way stronger than you were before. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Bellemere tilted her chin up playfully, giving you her trademark cocky grin. “I’m always right.” She turned to look at you. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Are you gonna ask me about my crushes like a ten year old at a sleepover again?”

“I’m just wondering if…like, if you’re trying to be stronger… why aren’t you using your devil fruit?”

You frowned immediately, turning away. “You know it’s not safe.”

“Maybe not at the academy. But here there’s people who might be able to help you hone it. Maybe even… Commander Rocinante?” She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly to emphasize his name.

“Look, I just can’t, ok? I already accidentally hurt someone today, I don’t want to do it again.”

Bellemere shrugged. “Alright. Work harder not smarter then. Your funeral.”

You laughed despite yourself at the face she made. “Nothing wrong with doing it the old fashioned way.”

“I guess. But if I had a devil fruit you’d bet your ass I’d be using it.” Stretching, Bellemere put her feet up on her desk. “Anyway, you wanna hear more about this girl on my squadron? We had a drunk makeout session two nights ago and I haven’t even gotten to tell you yet.”

Smiling, you shook the thoughts of Rocinante and devil fruits from your head, at least for now. “Do you care if I open this sake I brought while I listen?”

“Bitch you had sake this whole time?? Give it here!”

——————————————————————

The next morning, despite your slight hangover, you somehow made it to the training grounds fifteen minutes before Commander Rocinante asked you to be there—the ungodly hour of 4:15 in the morning. Between sips from your thermos of coffee, you stretched, twisting your arms above your head, bending from side to side. You were completely bent over into downward dog—Bellemere had gotten you into yoga recently—when you heard the sound of a throat clearing behind you.

Whipping around (and nearly falling on your face as you did so), you see your commander towering over you, an uncomfortable blush on his face, his eyes directly on your… fuck.

“I’m, uh—glad you got here early, Ensign.” Rocinante bit his lip awkwardly, turning away to look anywhere but at you. “Let’s—let’s get started then.” He jogged toward the middle of the training field, making it about three steps before his foot caught on a rock. He went down hard, directly on his face.

Why the hell was he so bumbling and weird all the time? You pondered to yourself as you ran over to help the hulking man to his feet. He shrugged you off immediately as you touched his shoulder, flinching away from your touch. “I’m fine, Ensign. Go grab one of the weapons I brought from the armory.”

There were several different types of weapons for you to choose from, a mercy you were grateful for. Headquarters was so insistent on every Ensign being able to use a sword, but you’d always preferred something smaller, something for closer quarters. Picking up a pair of short-handled broadaxes on a whim, you followed Rocinante out onto the field.

He smiled a bit when he saw your choice. “An axe man, eh? Why didn’t you go for the halberd?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s too big. Too hard to hit someone, I guess.”

“Not that you’ve been doing much of that anyway…” Rocinante chuckled.

“Hey! I hit someone yesterday, didn’t I?” You couldn’t help but grin along with him.

Rocinante laughed out loud. “That’s the most impressive thing you’ve done since you’ve gotten here. Sengoku is fine, by the way—you barely scratched him.”

“So he’s not gonna discharge me or anything then?”

“Nah. To be honest, we’ve seen recruits do worse than that.” Rocinante unsheathed his broadsword, examining it habitually for sharpness and cleanliness. “If you’re gonna fight with a weapon you like, I’ll fight with my favorite weapon too.” He set the sword down on the grass beside him, then cracked his knuckles.

Your stomach dropped. It was well-known that Rocinante was almost as deadly a martial artist as he was a sharpshooter. Crouching nervously, you balanced your weight and prepared to fight.

Rocinante struck first, a hard roundhouse kick aimed at the left ear. You just barely managed to duck, his black loafer skimming the top of your head. You swung one of your axes at his stomach (considering Rocinante’s height, this was about as high as you could reach) but Rocinante grabbed it, twisting it hard and throwing you off balance.

You hit the ground with a thud. One of your commander’s massive shoes rested on your chest, pinning you. Already??

“Get back up. Let’s go again.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet. His hand was broad and very rough—years of fighting and sailing mapped in calluses across his fingers and palm—and you suppressed a shiver as you noticed how small yours was in his.

“Fighting stance, Ensign.” Rocinante prepared himself to battle you again. Shaking off your momentary reverie, you picked up your axe.

Here we go.

The first week’s training was full of many, many losses for you. The axes were definitely an improvement to the short sword, but not enough of one to make any real difference against an opponent like Rocinante. It amazed you how agile he was, how he attacked fluidly from all sides, how he dodged your blows so effortlessly.

How he tripped and fell flat on his face the second he was no longer in attack mode.

Hard to figure out, that man.

It went on like that, day after day of waking up at the crack of dawn, heading to the training fields to invariably get your ass kicked. But oddly, you didn’t mind. Rocinante was beginning to get more and more friendly toward you, letting that indecipherable guard of his down bit by bit as the days blended into weeks. Once he even cracked one of his terrible dad jokes about an admittedly unfortunate pair of shoes you’d chosen to wear—and you laughed despite yourself. Even if you weren’t getting any better, at least you were finally forming some sort of connection with your commander outside of the suffocating tension you were used to.

It was nearly a month into your personal training sessions that you finally had your breakthrough.

Rocinante was challenging you today. Keeping his distance, always slightly out of your range. At first it had been smooth and elegant, but at this point he was basically just teasing you—sticking his tongue out at you, taunting your attacks, giving you a hard time. You were finally starting to see that goofy side of him that everyone else loved, but you were so frustrated that you couldn’t enjoy yourself. You’d been getting faster. Why couldn’t you hit him even once?

“Ensign, think,” Rocinante advised you, continuing to duck and dodge around your attacks. “Find a way to hit me from a distance.”

Oh god. He wanted you to…

“I, uh, I don’t throw things. Like ever.”

“Bet you’ll be wishing you did when you’re dead on a battlefield.” Rocinante remarked. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

“I said no, ok?”

“Fine,” said Rocinante with a somewhat childish smirk. “Then we’ll resume training as soon as you’re willing to do that for me.” And with that, he straightened up and walked over to a nearby boulder where he proceeded to sit there, staring at you, head in his hands. Fucking asshole.

With a sigh, you dropped your weapons to your sides. “Look, Commander, I… do you not know about my devil fruit?”

Rocinante blinked. “Your what now?”

“It, uh… should’ve been in my file.”

“Trust me, I read that thing cover to cover. The Academy must’ve forgotten to mention it, especially if you don’t use it very often.”

He read my file cover to cover he read it cover to cover “I, uh… I never use it, actually.”

Rocinante gestured to the boulder beside him Holy shit he wants me to sit next to him what if he puts his arm around me I will die I will truly die and you came over, dropping down beside him with none of the grace you were hoping for.

“So what’s the fruit then?” Rocinante asks, his tone not unkind.

“It’s called the Pitch-Pitch fruit, sir.”

“So I imagine it has something to do with throwing?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Wanna show it to me?”

“No, not at all.”

“Y/n…”

You turned to look at him, your mouth dropping open. He’d never called you by your name before, not without “Ensign” in front of it.

“I was terrified of my devil fruit when I got it. I was just a kid, and at first I hated the silence. When there’s no noise, your brain kinda fills in the blanks with whatever sounds you’re most afraid of. It was horrible for a long time.”

He’d never spoken to you so candidly before. Hell, you weren’t sure if you’d ever heard him speak to anyone so candidly before. While the commander was friendly and kind to all, you had to admit that you couldn’t recall a single time he’d ever spoken about his own past. Why to you?

“But my da—I mean, Fleet Admiral Sengoku—helped me turn my power into something good for me.” He chuckled and looked up, reminiscing. “I was almost a worse fighter than you are back then. Used to be as clumsy and awkward on the battlefield as I am off of it. He showed me how to use my fruit in combination with observational haki to give me a huge advantage.

“Now when I use my power, I can feel things with that haki to ‘hear’ all the things you miss out on when there’s sound. Everything from the energy of my enemies to the energy of a beetle digging a den five hundred feet away. I was so afraid of using silent for so long, but it turned out to be the thing that made me into a powerful fighter.”

You sat wordlessly for a moment, watching the towering man be more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. It was strange. But…nice.

Finally, you spoke. “So what you’re saying is, if I have this power…”

Rocinante nodded. “You should use it.”

You swallowed hard, then rose to your feet. “Alright.” Picking up one of your axes, you added, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed your eyes shut. Please, please don’t let me hurt anyone. Lifting your arm, you tossed the axe as gently as you could in the direction of the large hill that stood at the edge of the training grounds.

With the whooshing boom of the sound barrier breaking, the axe flew from your hand so fast that it was completely invisible. A moment later, a rumble and a huge crash echoed from the hill as the axe flew cleanly through it and out the other side.

You turned, cringing, back to Rocinante. “So anyway, that’s the Pitch Pitch fruit…”

Your commander’s jaw was nearly on the floor, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Y-y/n… you’ve been able to do that this whole time??”

“Like I said, it’s really dangerous…”

“Yeah, you throw an axe at an enemy like that and you’ll kick their ass, no questions asked! Shit, I kinda wish I could do that…”

“So you think I should keep using it then? Even during training?”

“Hell yes I do! It’s the coolest thing ever!!” Rocinante’s eyes were lit up like a little kid watching a wrestler or a mecha battle on TV. “We’ll have to get you something lighter to throw during training, that should help mitigate some of the damage…but you should be proud you have that ability, Ensign y/n.”

You blushed. For the first time, you actually felt kind of… ok with your power. Rocinante was the first person to tell you it was anything but a nuisance at worst, a death trap at best. Looking at the massive hole through the hill at the other end of the field, you had to admit—maybe the man was onto something.

___________________________________

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Can you believe it, y/n??”

You flinched as Recruit Aleppo squealed into your ear, appearing from somewhere behind you.

“Jesus, Aleppo, I know! First mission, very exciting. Can you maybe not make me go deaf next time?”

“Oh, yeah,” the young woman giggled. “I guess that’s kind of our Commander’s job, isn’t it?”

You said nothing, instead choosing to gaze out onto the endless sea before you. It had been nearly six months since you’d been on a ship—the last time being when you’d arrived at Headquarters—and you’d forgotten how much you loved the smell of salt in the air, the strange quality of the breeze that seemed to carry adventure on its tongue.

“Crete-de-Vague Island is supposed to be super rich and fancy, yknow,” Aleppo was babbling on blithely. “They make the world’s finest furs there! Coats and shawls and purses… ooh, maybe we’ll have time to go shopping!”

You nodded briefly but otherwise ignored your fellow recruit. You were too busy reflecting on your conversation with Rocinante from that morning.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” you’d said as he helped you load weapons and supplies onto the boat.

“Trust me, y/n,” Rocinante had grunted, lifting a box onto his shoulder, “I wouldn’t be taking you along if I didn’t think you were ready for this.”

“This just seems like a big step, y’know? We haven’t been training for that long…”

Setting down the box in the cargo bay, Rocinante walked toward you. What he did next had nearly made you swoon.

Slowly, he’d knelt in front of you, bending his knees until his eyes had aligned with yours god the shades of red in those eyes… And then he had smiled—that big cheesy grin of his that he’d only very recently started sharing with you. Throwing up a peace sign, he had loudly proclaimed—

“I believe in you, y/n!”

The high was more than enough to carry you through the morning’s tedious preparations to set sail.

So he trusted you enough to send you on a mission, then. Finally, after so much time, you were beginning to break through into him, be a person Rocinante could put his faith in.

You wouldn’t let him down.

It took you all of five days of sailing to reach Crete-de-Vague, where you’d been asked to clear out some pirates who had taken over and started stealing those famous furs. A straightforward enough mission, it would seem.

In between training sessions and briefings on the pirates you were preparing to fight, the squadron’s attitude was lively. There was no small amount of alcohol consumed in the evenings, with your commander often at the center of the festivities.

He really was a wonder to watch, that man, the way he made every person on your squadron feel valued and seen and heard. As ridiculous as he could often be—tripping over his own feet, cracking terrible one liners—every single one of you looked up to and adored him.

One night after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself on the deck, a little drunk, looking out again onto the black and eternal sea that had captured your attention so thoroughly in recent days You were so captivated by the soft rise and fall of the waves that you hardly noticed the gentle footsteps approaching you.

When Rocinante leaned against the half-wall next to you, you jumped. “Jesus, Commander, warn a guy next time!”

That sheepish grin of his again, and he spoke, words imperceptibly slurred. “M’bad.” So he was a bit drunk as well, but then you weren’t particularly surprised. There’d been a lot of sake floating around tonight, and you’d watched him go head to head with Recruit Keiryo to see who could drink more (the commander had won, of course, being twice the size of both Keiryo and everyone else on the squadron).

“Yer not seasick, are you? First time I sailed more’n a few days, I was in the sick bay more than I was out of it,” Rocinante chuckled as he lit a cigarette, his eyes on the sea.

“Oh, uh…nah, I’m good. I have a pretty strong stomach. Didn’t have a lot of food as a kid, had to eat what we could find. It sucked at the time, but now I never get sick,” you commented thoughtlessly.

You regretted the words as soon as they’d left your mouth. Not even Bellemere knew the extent of what you’d been through before joining the Navy. The pirate boss who’d controlled everything leaving and entering your island, the droughts that had left your family’s little patch of farmland barren as bones, the way you and your mother had had to pick pirates’ pockets just to feed yourselves and your baby sister—oh god don’t think about her don’t think about your baby sister—the way you’d eaten your devil fruit because it was the only food you could find. No one here was ever supposed to know any of that.

But Rocinante turned to look at you, an expression you’d never seen before on his face. “So… y’know what it’s like to be hungry too. Figures. I knew there was a reason we got along.”

Your face was burning, heart beating fast. How the hell did this man keep burrowing his way into the bottom of you, pulling out the truths you were most scared of admitting and holding them up to the light to watch the beams shine clean through them? First the stuff about the intelligence test at the academy, then your fruit, now the stuff that woke you up in cold sweats at night. This strange need for me to know him, this stranger need for him to never know me…

“M’brother and me spent around two years havin’ to dig through the garbage for food.” Rocinante said abruptly. When you didn’t respond, his face turned pink. “Just, like… somethin’ you and I have in common, I guess.”

Eager to turn the conversation away from yourself, you replied. “I didn’t know you even had a brother. He in the Marines?”

Rocinante laughed out loud, partially from relief that he hadn’t offended you. “No. My brother… I don’t think he’d be caught dead in the Marines. But we haven’t talked in a long time, so… who knows, I guess?”

“Why don’t you talk?” You ask, somewhat distractedly. You’d just noticed how close the commander was standing to you. You could almost feel the energy sparking from his arm that rested mere inches from yours.

“Oh, y’know. He’s a terrible person.” Rocinante shrugged and looked away from you again, his face now bright red. It was clear that was the only explanation you’d be getting. “What about your family? You close to them?”

As he spoke, the commander gently rested his big, callused hand over yours.

Why were the two of you sitting here, having this conversation that it was clear neither of you wanted to have? Why couldn’t you just walk away? You could feel the irritation rising in you. After all this time, now he was trying to be close to you, now he wanted to be your friend, now he wanted to do…whatever the fuck he was doing touching you like this, like you’d desperately wanted, like you were furious to admit you enjoyed in this moment.

“Look, Commander. It’s frankly none of your fucking business, ok?” You yanked your hand out from underneath his large one and turned away, walking quickly back toward the barracks. “‘M going to bed.”

“Hey, Ensign?”

Great. Pulling the rank card on you.

“What?” You all but spat at him, wheeling around. The look on his face almost melted you. Soft, slightly disappointed but much more full of a strange sorrow you couldn’t quite place. Later you would realize it was sympathy.

“Whatever happened to you… I’m sorry.” He said, so softly it was almost a whisper. You felt your eyes welling up as you turned away and stormed back to the barracks.

You took one of Ensign Henri’s sleeping pills (idiot, just leaving them out like that) when you got back, stripping down and getting into bed in record time. Thoughts pounded through your head as you waited for the drug to hit you, desperate for the release of sleep. Why do I want him so bad? Why is he so insistent on knowing me? Why do I care? Why do I want him? Why do I want him? Why do I want him?

The last thought that you remembered before the haze of pill-induced sleep took you over echoed through your head like a ghost in a very old house.

What am I so afraid of?

—————————————————————

Aleppo hadn’t been wrong. Crete-de-Vague was beautiful.

As you hopped off your ship and walked into port, you couldn’t take your eyes off the town that rose above you, built into the hillside. Flowering trees grew everywhere, sending bright red petals and an aroma reminiscent of persimmon scattering onto the breeze. Huge Tudor-style houses, packed closely together by the necessity of city living, lined the steep cobblestone streets.

But the dock was nearly empty when you’d arrived. Strangely silent for a port. No workers to help with your cargo, no other ships to give you a sense of who was present in the city.

Well, except for one.

A massive barquentine ship, built from dark mahogany, floated hulking and foreboding in the dock beside yours. The sails were a deep shade of black, and the flag flapping above the crows nest was unmistakably a Jolly Roger.

The tension was blanketlike over the squadron as you all followed Rocinante past the docks and up the hill toward the center of town (minus Rhys and Hidalgo, who were guarding the ship and keeping the cannons manned). No one said anything about the other boat.

“Don’t forget, ensigns—they probably already know we’re here,” Rocinante was warning you as you approached the first buildings. “When pirates take over an island like this, they usually put eyes everywhere. Be ready to fight at a second’s notice.”

The buildings that had looked so glamorous from the port were beginning to bely evidence of a struggle as you got closer. Smashed windows, boarded up doors, smoldering cannonballs embedded in walls. It was clear that whatever was happening here had been hard on the citizens of Crete-de-Vague.

You could feel nausea setting in as you got deeper and deeper into the city. Not out of fear at what you were about to do—Rocinante’s proclaimed belief in you had seemed to get rid of that, even if you were a bit irritated with him at the moment. No, these houses with their busted support beams and rubble on the doorstep were burying themselves uncomfortably inside your memories of childhood. The way you and your friends had played on top of rubble from a statue blown to bits. The way you’d had to bolt if the pirates were around and hope to god some neighbor was kind enough to let you in. The way they’d broken down your door in the middle of the night and taken the last of your dead father’s pension and hurt your mother and oh god your baby sister

You were starting to feel dizzy on your feet, the edges of your vision beginning to blacken. Just as you were sure you were about to collapse, a massive hand rested on your shoulder.

“You’ll be all right, Ensign. Breathe.”

And while you shoved his hand off your shoulder

asshole trying to act like he knows my business

and walked ahead of him, you did breathe. And it helped.

As you approached a flat expanse between the buildings toward the top of the hill—ostensibly the square, although it had seen much better days—Rocinante used his baby Den Den Moshi to radio in to Sengoku, his commanding officer (you weren’t even going to pretend like you knew how that worked). “Yeah, we’re here. You said the mayor was supposed to meet us?”

Sengoku’s voice, crackling over the receiver and out of the snail’s mouth. “That was the plan, in the town square. How’s the damage to the city?”

“Looks pretty bad. There’s no people around either.”

“Yes, the person who reported the pirates said that folks there were afraid to leave their houses. I’m surprised the mayor isn’t there yet, though.”

“Yeah, we haven’t s—“

A dull thud, like a bag of sand, broke the silence of the empty square, echoing just behind you and the other recruits. Rocinante stopped speaking immediately, silencing his Den Den Moshi with a click and putting it into his pocket.

Slowly, you all turned around.

There, on the ground, in a position like a broken marionette, laid an older man—or at least the body of one. Blood drenched his white shirt and tie. Getting closer, it was easy to see that his throat had been cut—or rather, ripped open. An expression of pleading terror was frozen on his creased face.

The squadron was painfully, excruciatingly silent.

Then a high pitched voice from somewhere above you broke the taut quiet—“Don’t worry, the mayor made it on time after all! Didn’t he, boys?”

At least thirty additional voices shouted out cheers from somewhere on the rooftops.

You could feel the pall as every marine’s stomach dropped out at the same time.

Rocinante, however, seemed to have no such fear. His eyes were glowing with a breed of fury you didn’t know was possible from the normally easygoing man. He was staring at a nearby chimney with intensity—his haki must have clued him in to where the first voice was coming from.

“Squadron, prepare to engage.” He spoke, gritting his teeth, never taking his eyes off the chimney. Obeying your commander, the ensigns took fighting stances and drew weapons. You pulled two axes from your belt (you’d been carrying six at a time since you’d started using your devil fruit more) and got ready. This was what you’d been training for. This was your chance to show what you were truly capable of.

“Let ‘em have it, boys!” The voice behind the chimney roared. Stepping out from his hiding spot, you caught a glimpse of the man who’d been terrorizing Crete-de-Vague all this time. Skin so pale it was almost translucent. Long black hair twisted into a hundred tiny braids. Wiry build, sharp jaw, heavy shadows surrounding his protruding collarbone and shoulders.

Torrez Diego.

He almost would’ve been hot if he weren’t so scary.

But your chances to ruminate on your enemy’s fuckability were cut short as close to forty pirates poured down from the rooftops into the square, cutlasses drawn, guns at the ready. You watched a muscular middle aged woman with a mole on her chin fling herself at Henri, laughing as he frantically blocked her attacks. Rocinante was fighting two men at once, dancing between their kicks and blows (and quite frankly kicking their asses). Kingston ducked and barely avoided having his head shot off with a…holy shit, a fucking bazooka. These guys weren’t fucking around.

But you knew your directive. You stayed still and watched Diego closely. He was dodging the occasional shot from Ensign Parvati, your squadron’s best sharpshooter, which she was barely managing to fire in between rounds of grappling with a massive, rotund man who seemed to be excellent at throwing his weight around. You waited.

And when Torrez Diego suddenly smiled and raised his left hand, you grabbed your axe tightly and bent your legs, preparing.

When he shouted, “Seam tear!” You flung it as hard as you could.

Two things happened at once, as if in slow motion. First, your axe shot at impossibly breakneck speeds through the air toward Diego, booming through the sound barrier as it prepared to knock him through the next three buildings. Second, Diego’s devil fruit power—his seam tear— began to take effect. With the sound of a thousand pieces of paper tearing at once, a massive rip began at Diego’s outstretched hand. It traveled down the building he was atop and into the square, splitting the ground itself beneath your feet. The ensigns dove into chaos, leaping out of the way of the massive chasm that formed within seconds; the Torrez pirates simply laughed as they took cover on either side of it.

Meanwhile, your axe flew and flew through the air.

And missed.

Diego felt the axe whiz by his right ear and turned back, watching as it flew through three buildings before finally embedding itself in a steel wall.

A miss, after all this fucking practice, a miss. What the fuck is wrong with me?

And his attention turned to you.

“Well look at that! It’s not often you see an ensign who’s a devil fruit user!” Diego grinned, showing long yellowing teeth. Never mind about the hot stuff… “Why don’t you take me one on one, and we’ll see whose fruit is better, eh?” With a chuckle, he climbed off the roof of the building in a single jump and began walking toward you.

You weren’t a hand-to-hand fighter. Sure, you could hold your own with the axes, but not against someone like this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

“Y/n!”

Rocinante grabbed your hand out of nowhere, pulling you along with him. With a surprisingly graceful leap forward, he tapped Diego quickly on the shoulder.

“Silent!”

You watched the now familiar blue shimmer of energy as it enveloped Diego, leaving him completely deaf and mute. His face paled as he touched his ears frantically, his eyes widening in shock.

It gave you just enough time for Rocinante to pull you into a side street. The two of you hurtled down it as Diego shook his head, finally coming to his senses, and began to pursue you.

You could feel the man’s presence behind you, sense his haki—something you were slowly learning how to do—but you were unable to hear his footsteps, his breathing, his furious jeers. The effect was jarring as you and your commander plunged deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine side streets of Crete-de-Vague.

“Commander, I let you down. I’m so sorry.” You managed as the two of you ran, Rocinante pulling you in what felt like random directions. Was he trying to throw Diego off?

“Don’t worry about it, Ensign. Happens to everyone. It just means we have to—he grunted as he yanked you hard to the right and up a small flight of stairs—“rethink our battle strategy a bit is all.”

“What about the others?”

“Y/n, our squadron is tough as nails. I have no doubts they’ll beat those pi—shit.”

A dead ended alley.

Desperately, you and Rocinante glanced around for doors, for something you could climb on to get over the wall, for anything.

There was nothing.

You could both feel Diego’s haki, getting closer and closer to you, and the man surely had only blood on his mind.

You were fucked, if neither of you could…. Wait.

Stupid.

You chided yourself mentally as you flung an axe at the wall before you. A terrific boom, and the two of you suddenly had an instant pathway right through the building and out the other side! …Even if it was a bit covered in rubble.

Rocinante laughed out loud. “Wow, very impressive, Ensign!”

You couldn’t help but grin back at him as the two of you continued forward. But as you looked behind you, your stomach dropped.

You had lost too much time on the wall, and Torrez was right on your back. Reaching for you, his lips curling to form the words. Seam tear.

A rip shot out from the man’s fingers, aimed directly at your commander.

“Rocinante!” You shouted, trying to alert him. Your commander turned back, and as if in slow motion he

Saw Diego.

Saw the rip.

Dodged it.

Tripped.

Coming in with the worst possible timing in human history, midway through his dodge to the left Rocinante’s foot hit a loose cobblestone. It sent him flying to the right somehow, too far, and you watched in sickened horror as Diego’s rip hit Rocinante hard and climbed up his inner leg, a spray of blood accompanying it.

“Commander!” You could barely even recognize your voice as your own as Rocinante went down, hard, his head slapping the pavement. You were at his side in a second, squeezing his hand (god why were you squeezing his hand after everything) as Rocinante groaned, tried to stand up, fell.

Diego was grinning at you, baring his long yellow teeth like fangs. He spoke, but no sound came out—but you didn’t need to hear him to know he was telling you all the gruesome ways he was going to kill you. If he would just let his guard down, you could throw an axe, but his attention was laser focused on you and your (bleeding semiconscious really very badly injured) commander.

And you remembered something you’d learned about the man in your briefing. He was known to be a sucker for flattery.

Thank god you’d actually paid attention.

“Commander, I know you’re hurt, but can you turn off his silent? Trust me.”

A snap of his fingers—he must have been just aware enough to hear you—and Diego’s voice boomed into focus.

“—plenty of things my crew can think of to do to little queers like you, and—“

“Jesus, you almost killed him! That’s a marine Commander! How did you do that?” You interrupted, looking up at him, cringing at your own bad acting and hoping to hell you weren’t being too obvious.

Torrez Diego paused for a moment, looking down on you appraisingly. Then he smiled.

“I’m the strongest pirate this half of the sea, kid. Bounty of 35 million, in case they didn’t mention it at pansy navy boy school. I’ve killed men twice as strong as your Commander here.”

You leaned forward, eyes wide. “You’ve killed others?”

“You’d better believe it. In pretty fucked up ways too, just ask my crew.”

“Would you, um…” you blinked innocently, pushing your ass out just slightly. Might as well play the game if you were gonna play the game. “Would you tell me about some of them?”

Diego grinned, clearly checking you out a bit in your new position. Wow. This guy was a fucking moron.

“You wanna hear about the time I keel-hauled a woman for cheating on me?”

You nodded, feigning excitement. “Grab that crate and sit down. Tell me everything!”

“Even the little baby marines are impressed by me, the greatest pirate in this corner of Paradise.” He chuckled. And he

Turned

Around.

Idiot.

With lightning speed you grabbed an axe from your hip and flung it hard. The alleyway was too tight quarters for you to miss again, and the weapon hit him right in the back, digging in so deeply that the blade protruded out the other side. With a sickening groan, Diego fell to his knees, touching the axe sticking out of his chest softly. He turned white-faced to look at you, opened his mouth as if to speak… and collapsed.

It only took a moment until the man was still.

“Rocinante!” You all but screamed, turning to your commanding officer on the ground beside you. He was attempting to sit up, his legs splayed out awkwardly in front of him, one of his white pant legs torn and irreparably stained with blood.

“Jesus Christ y/n, you really saved my ass with that one. You ok?”

“You need medical care, Commander,” you spluttered, face turning red at how casually he spoke to you in the face of such a severe injury. “Look, I’ve got my field medic kit and you know it’s one of the few things I’m really good at. Let me take a look at it.”

Rocinante hesitated, then nodded. Indicating the war-torn building to your right, he remarked, “Pretty sure that place is abandoned. Let’s do it there.”

You put one of his massive arms around your shoulder (so close he’s so close), using all your strength to hoist him up enough to make it to the door. Locked. You went to grab an axe, but Rocinante suddenly knocked it off its hinges with a kick from his good leg, leaning on you to keep his balance.

“Jesus dude, you’re fucking injured!”

“I haven’t been any help whatsoever today. Let me do something at least!”

You could feel his grin behind you. Trying to make you laugh, you knew. Keep the mood light so you don’t freak out about the fact that he might be bleeding to death. As annoying as it was, you could feel your stomach warming. Kind, that man.

You lay Rocinante down on a slightly moldy-smelling fur rug, one of the only signs anyone had ever lived here. The rest of the house was empty and covered in dust.

Quickly, you pulled your pack off and grabbed your medic kit, pulling out disinfectant, a roll of gauze, a needle with surgical thread.

“Ok, I—I’m gonna have to take your pants off, Commander.” You blushed deep red as you realized what you were saying. Sparing a peek at Rocinante’s face, his was somehow even redder than yours.

“Oh, I can—“

“No, let me do that part.”

“Fuck, ow, a little slower, y/n.”

“Sorry, sorry…”

Through an extremely awkward working dialogue, you managed to get Rocinante’s pants unbuttoned and slid them down to the floor until he was able to kick them off.

Just looking at his muscular thighs—scarred from what you assumed was years of training and battles—was enough to send blood flowing from your red face to a very different part of your anatomy. And the slight gap between those thighs and the hem of his boxers…

Fucking shit, y/n. Focus.

Swallowing hard (and hoping to hell Rocinante didn’t notice the sudden bulge in your pants), you moved to his right ankle, where the rip started. The injury was surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected it to be—instead of a leg torn in half, what you were looking at was simply a very long, very deep cut traveling up Rocinante’s inner thigh to his…oh fuck, it went nearly to his groin. This was something you could actually handle medically. It would remain to be seen if you could handle it for other reasons.

“Commander, how the hell did you avoid getting your leg completely torn to shreds here?”

“Armament haki. I’ll show you some stuff sometime.” Rocinante sat up to watch you as you examined his wound, supporting himself on his hands.

“That’s cool, Commander. I’d like that,” you said, smiling at him. He’ll be ok, he’s gonna be ok. “Ok, bite your sleeve or something. I’m putting on disinfectant, it’s gonna hurt.”

Rocinante nodded and did as he was told, grunting in pain as you splashed a liberal amount of the stuff up and down his leg, closing your eyes and thinking about anything else when you reached his upper thigh.

“Ok, I’m gonna start sewing you up. No anesthetic, but hold on, ok? Let me take care of you, Commander.”

You were almost embarrassed of the words coming out of your mouth—needy bottom shit—but you couldn’t deny how relieved you were that your friend and commanding officer was ok. And that you got to be the one to help him heal…

“You already saved my life once today, y/n. It’s kind of you that you’re willing to do it again,” Rocinante said with a grimace of pain as you began to stitch him up.

“Yeah, well… you’re kinda my mentor, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Rocinante grinned. “You think of me as your mentor??? Y/n… that’s so sweet!”

Your heart stuttered at his warm response, emotions swirling in your brain, unable to decide if you liked this or didn’t like this.

Rocinante continued. “After that fight we had the other night, I wasn’t sure you even liked me.”

“I like you. I just don’t like people bothering me about my past. I’m trying to move on, ok?”

Rocinante was quiet for a long moment, only the nauseating sounds of needle through flesh sounding in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “I know it doesn’t feel like talking about it will help. But I promise you it does.”

“What would you know about it? Other than you and your brother dumpster diving for a few years or whatever.”

Rocinante’s face was serious. “My entire family were treated as pariahs. My mother died because people wouldn’t give us medical treatment. We got attacked by both children and adults almost every day. Sometimes they’d sic dogs on us. Once they even tried to burn our whole family at the stake. And then in the end, my brother murdered my father in front of me.”

Your jaw dropped, and you stopped stitching, looking up at your commander with your mouth agape.

Rocinante suddenly smiled. “Wow, it feels so much better to talk about it! Ok, now you.”

“W-what??”

“Now you tell me yours!”

You spluttered. “It doesn’t work like that! What the fuck do you mean your brother killed your father??”

Rocinante smiled. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You’re glared at him. “Not gonna happen. Now hold still so I can finish.” You had almost reached your commander’s groin, and while your hands were sweaty and your heart was racing, you weren’t about to quit with his wound half stitched (even if he was annoying the hell out of you right now).

In silence, you finished stitching your commander’s wound (your hand brushing excruciatingly, temptingly close to his cock as you did so) and bandaged his whole leg, neither of you speaking.

Finally, Rocinante broke the quiet. “Whatever it is, I’m really proud of you for becoming the man you are today despite it, y/n.”

You look up at him, the compliment kinder than anything you’d heard since your mother passed.

“…I’m checking your eyes for a concussion, dipshit.”

Wordlessly, you straddle him and push up onto your knees, pulling his head down to look into the taller man’s eyes. You can smell him—a mixture of blood, good tobacco, and better cologne—and you’re aware of the intimacy of the position. If you lowered yourself, you’d be sitting on his…

Don’t think about that now.

Think about the disarming reddish brown hue of his eyes. Think about the beads of sweat on his temple. Think about his hair, his golden hair that must be so soft to touch… think about…

“You’re an incredible marine, y/n,” Rocinante murmured. “An incredible friend. And a—“ he hesitated, but did not break the eye contact— “a really beautiful man.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Rocinante never looked away from you, but his hand gently touched your knee.

Don’t do it. No matter how much you want it. Don’t do it. Don’t let him in. Don’t.

Don’t.

Your lips crashed into Rocinante’s with a vengeance, your hands tangling up into that yes I was right it’s so soft golden hair, and he grabbed you and tugged you against him, moaning against your mouth as you clung to him.

“Y/n…” Rocinante gasped, his hands sliding up and down your body, under your white marine shirt to caress the newly developing musculature of your chest—all that training had been kind to you—and you should care you should stop him but you didn’t, you couldn’t, your tongue was in his mouth, your fingers were plucking at the buttons of his shirt, Rocinante, Rocinante….

“Wanted you like this for so long, y/n…” Rocinante was panting as he broke off the kiss to breathe into your ear. “I know it’s wrong, I know you’re my subordinate, but fuck, y/n… every single fucking day during training, every single fucking night when I couldn’t sleep… you’ve been stuck in my thoughts like one of your fucking axes sticking into a target…”

Raising your eyebrows, you glanced out the window at the axe sticking into (and through) Torrez Diego. Rocinante followed your eye and laughed embarrassedly.

“Ok, maybe not the best metaphor.”

“Commander, please don’t talk. Please just… take me,” you said softly. Your shirts were both off now, and you were caressing the stunning, well defined muscles of his abs and chest, your cock achingly hard in your pants. Scars—cuts, burns, long ropy deep ones of uncertain origin—littered the broad expanse of his torso, matching the ones on his legs. So he hadn’t been lying about his childhood.

As you pulled yourself closer to him, gazing up into his eyes, feeling his (holy shit it’s massive) hardening cock pressing against your ass, you couldn’t help but ask. “I didn’t even think you were into men. In fact, I’ve seen you on dates with women before.”

Rocinante shrugged, his hands sliding up and down your body, fingertips sending lightning bolts into your groin. “Gender is made up anyway. Anyone can be hot, don’t you think?”

“Eh. I’ll leave the women to you.”

Rocinante chuckled. “That means this man gets to be all mine.” With that he grabbed your ass hard with both hands, yanking you so close to him that you could feel his heartbeat reverberating through your chest.

“Fuck, Commanderrrrrr…” you groaned as he squeezed and caressed your ass, every motion sending a drop of precum leaking from your achingly hard cock, staining your standard issue uniform.

“Don’t call me that, don’t call me Commander,” he murmured roughly. “Call me Roci, y/n.”

Roci? You’d never heard anyone but his very closest friends call him that. You tried it out slowly. “Roci…”

His smile was like none you’d ever seen before from him, and it sent chills of want shimmering through you from head to toe.

“Fuck me, Roci!” You finally managed, grinding your hips desperately back and forth on his cock, trying as best you could to be careful of the new stitches but needing him inside you so badly that it hurt.

Wordlessly, Rocinante grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over, landing you back-first on the fur rug as he leaned over you, his face flushed, one hand sliding up to caress your cheek.

“Jesus, Roci, be careful—you’re still injured, y’know!”

He glanced down at his leg. “Eh. I’ve fucked people I wanted less with bigger wounds than this one. And besides, you won’t mind if I have to…readjust occasionally, will you?”

Smiling, you shook your head. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good,” he said softly. Leaning down, hand still on your cheek, Roci kissed you with a warmth and tenderness you’d never experienced before. Loving, gentle, sweet.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t help but return the kiss—and the absolutely smitten gaze he gave you afterwards.

“Can I take these off?” Rocinante’s big hands were suddenly playing at your belt, and you felt your cock twitch hard at the proximity.

“Yes, jesus, yes,” you arched your hips up to allow him to remove the garment, biting back your moans as the fabric slid over your rock hard cock.

“And the underwear?” He asked, a note of hesitancy in his voice.

Not that he needed to hesitate. You nodded eagerly, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your boxers right along with his and sliding them off, discarding them on the dusty floor. You lay naked on the rug in front of him.

“Fucking hell….” Roci breathed as he stared at your cock. “Please, y/n… please let me touch you…”

You grabbed his hand yourself and moved it to the base of your cock, not breaking eye contact. You couldn’t believe you’d ever denied to yourself that you needed this. Holy shit. You NEEDED this.

Rocinante gripped you gently and slowly began to stroke your member, bowing his head to kiss your hipbones and exposed stomach as he did so. You knew what you were working with was pretty decent—plenty of guys had complimented you on your dick before—but you couldn’t deny that in your Commander’s massive hands it looked positively small.

Not that either of you minded.

The sensation of him gently squeezing your cock as he slid his hand up and down your length was enough to make you physically dizzy. Your head fell back with a moan as he caressed you.

“Please, Rociiiiii….”

When he gently swirled his tongue around the head of your cock, you were finished.

Bucking your hips up, you wailed, gripping the soft fur rug beneath you as your commanding officer took your member into his mouth.

Gently, Roci bobbed his head up and down along your length, sucking it deeply into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the underside. He followed the motions of his mouth with his hand, stroking you, his spit as lubricant. The room was filled with obscene noises as Rocinante positively worshipped you, soft hums of pleasure vibrating against your cock as you covered your mouth and tried not to scream.

He paused a moment and glanced up at you. “This ok?”

Your vision was blurred, your head spinning. You could barely manage to nod your head in response.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes snapped open to see Rocinante smiling at you, the tip of your cock still touching his lips, a twinkle in those red-brown orbs.

“Well, Ensign? How much do you like having my lips wrapped around your cock?”

You moaned in response, unable to form words. This was maybe the hottest thing that had ever happened to you.

Rocinante sat back, the friction of his hands and mouth on your cock suddenly achingly gone. “Tell me, Ensign. That’s an order.”

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. You bucked your hips desperately forward toward him. “God, Roci, it’s so good, it’s so good, fuck, I’ve needed this so long, please don’t stop, please, please…” you were babbling now, anything to get his lips on your dick again.

Finally, Rocinante obliged. Leaning up to kiss you quickly, his mouth led a trail back down your chest and stomach, following your happy trail to your cock. Briefly, he bent deeply and swallowed you completely, sucking you into his mouth hard enough to make you cry out in a mixture of relief and pleasure.

“Roci…” you managed to gasp, tangling your fingers in that soft, wavy golden hair of his. Your lover slid his mouth from your member with a wet pop, catching your gaze for a moment before he trailed his tongue lower. Pushing back your legs slightly, he slid his wet muscle along the seam of your balls, down lower, lower, ghosting across your perineum, and finally flicked it across your hole. Nuzzling his face softly against your inner thigh for a moment, he dove in and began to devour you.

Roci’s tongue moved in eager, hungry circles over your star, lapping at it ravenously, occasionally pushing his tongue inside you just to hear the moans you made when he did it. Softly, continuing to lick and suck at you, he gripped your cock in his hand and gave it several slow, deliberate strokes.

Your balls tightened, and before you even knew what was happening you were cumming, thick spurts of white-hot cum shooting over your stomach, your legs, your commander’s face. He grinned and closed his mouth over the head of your cock, swallowing what he could as you bucked and whined against him.

When you collapsed after several excruciatingly wonderful moments, Roci pressed a soft kiss to your hip bone before climbing back up to gaze at you. Your cum still dripped from his exquisite cheekbone as he smiled, looking down at you with an expression of nothing less than total adoration.

“You ok, y/n?”

Catching your breath, you nodded. “That was incredible.”

“I’m not finished yet, at least not if you don’t want me to be.”

Weakly, you brush your hand against his. “What did you—“ pant, pant. “—have in mind?”

Rocinante took your chin in his hand, enveloping you in a deep kiss. You could taste your own cum on his tongue, enough to make your spent cock twitch again.

“I seem to recall you saying something about wanting me to fuck you?”

You gazed up at him. If the cheeky smile on his face didn’t tell you everything you needed to know, his positively throbbing cock resting on your thigh certainly did. You almost lazily brought your hand to Roci’s cheek, wiping your cum off him with your thumb. He popped the digit into his mouth without breaking eye contact, sucking every last drop of you from your finger with an eagerness rivaling your own.

“Please, Rocinante…”

Releasing your thumb from between his soft lips, your commander leaned down and kissed you deeply, lingeringly. When he broke away, he was smiling.

“Mind lubing me up a bit first?”

Breathlessly, you nodded, your heart skipping a beat as he pushed two of his own fingers slowly into your waiting mouth. You sucked as eagerly as he had moments before, sliding your tongue over the rough pads of his fingers, tasting the salt and leftover gunpowder on his skin.

“Perfect.” Roci smiled as he watched you, slowly removing his fingers, the dim light glinting off a thin stream of saliva that he twirled around his index. “God, everything about you is so beautiful…” he breathed. “I hoped so badly that you felt this way, y/n. That you wanted me the way I want you…”

You felt your face redden as he smiled at you, touching his forehead to yours as his wet fingers trailed lower and lower. Brushing his lips against the tip of your nose, he reached your hole and slowly began to massage around the perimeter, causing a groan to escape you. “Roci, I need you, fuck…”

“My y/n,” your lover smiled, nuzzling his nose lightly against your cheek. As he did so, he slid one big finger slowly inside you. Your back arched against him as he pushed deeper and deeper, then gently added a second. You felt yourself stretching around him, a soft wail escaping your lips as he scissored his fingers inside you, watching your reaction, precum leaking from his big cock onto your leg.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?”

“S-so…good…” you barely managed to stammer, too love-drunk to even notice the pet name, bucking your hips against his fingers, trying desperately to fuck yourself on them. God, you didn’t know what this meant or what this was but you didn’t care in the slightest, you needed him so bad…

Roci leaned in and kissed you gently as he slowly began to slide his fingers in and out of you, sending you moaning into his mouth as he finally pushed deep enough to hit that spot (Jesus Christ and how he hit it) far inside you, sending a frankly very un-Marinelike cry from your lips. Your lover twisted his fingers, massaging you, chuckling softly as you writhed, dug your nails into his wrist, begged him with your entire body. More, more, more, please god more…

And then slowly he was withdrawing them, leaving you painfully empty beneath him. “Roci… please don’t stop…”

“Shhh. Relax, Ensign. Gotta take these out before anything else can go in. Although… I might need you to lube up that ‘anything else’ for me a bit as well?”

You were up and on your knees in front of Rocinante in a second, practically drooling as you finally got a good look at your commander’s dick. It was massive, easily 8 inches, and thick—you couldn’t help but worry a bit about how the hell it was going to fit into you. It curved up slightly at the pink tip, oozing drops of precum.

Rocinante noticed your apprehension and blushed. “I know it’s kind of a lot, but we can go slow…”

You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, never taking your eyes off it. “I don’t care what speed we go at as long as I get to have you inside me.”

Rocinante brushed his fingers through your hair. “Let me know if you need to stop, ok?”

You nodded, and slowly licked a long stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. Roci positively shivered, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck, y/n…”

Gently, you continued to lick your Commander’s cock, covering it in your saliva, tasting the salt on his skin. When you flicked your tongue up over the pink tip, lapping up the drops of precum leaking from his slit, Rocinante’s hips bucked forward involuntarily, pushing himself into your mouth.

For a moment you sputtered, unprepared for the sudden invasion, and Roci quickly moved to pull back out. But you weren’t about to let that happen. Following his hips, you eagerly took more of him into your mouth, feeling your throat stretch as it filled with him. He was huge, so huge it almost hurt to have him so deep, and you had to fight to control your gag reflex as he gazed down at you, his face flushed.

“Holy fuck, you’re good at this, y/n…”

You smiled as best you could with his cock filling your throat and slowly began to suck him as he had you, coating his dick with your saliva, your own cock already rock hard again just from the feeling of him in your mouth. Bobbing your head, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of him—a little salty, a little musky, a little sweet. Delicious didn’t even begin to describe it.

You were beginning to find your rhythm now, a slow pattern of in and out, deep but not too deep—but Roci suddenly pulled out, his cock bumping your cheek as you released it. You were almost disappointed—sucking him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced—but that flew out the window when you caught his eye.

“Come sit on my lap, y/n.”

Wordlessly you nodded your head. Your mind was swirling. Holy shit, you really were about to get fucked by your commanding officer. Holy shit, holy fuck…

Roci sat back on the soft fur of the rug and you climbed atop him in the position you were in before—achingly, breathtakingly close. His cock twitched as he pushed it against your soaking wet entrance.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

You could only reach up to kiss him in response.

Slowly, so slowly it made your head spin, Rocinante pushed the head of his cock into your tight hole, both of you groaning in pleasure as it began to slide into you. It was so big, holy fuck, Jesus it was big, and as it stretched you wider and wider you couldn’t help but wince.

Roci paused immediately. “You ok, y/n? We can stop if this is too much…”

“No! No, please don’t stop, please don’t stop, Roci,” you managed to gasp as you adjusted to him, your nails digging into his back as you pressed your face to his muscular chest, needing him like grass needed water, like seabirds needed wind.

Gently, he ran a comforting hand over your back and pushed deeper, helping you to sink down onto his cock until it was sheathed entirely inside you.

“Fuck, Rocinante..” you hissed into his chest as he filled you. Gently, almost experimentally, you raised your hips and slid up and down Roci’s dick once. The sensation was nearly enough to have you cumming again, and Roci himself let out a long, low moan as your muscles clenched tight around him.

“Let me do it, y/n… I promise it’ll feel so good…” your Commander gasped, gripping your hips. Slowly, he began to guide you up and down his cock, brushing that spot inside you again and again. You were vaguely aware of a trail of drool running from the corner of your mouth as Rocinante pumped a little faster into you, and you dug your nails into his back as he held you close.

The two of you were well and truly fucking now, your ass bouncing on his cock as you moaned against his chest, praises and needy begging slipping indiscriminately from your mouth as Roci filled you, hit that wildly sensitive spot over and over, harder and harder, as he made you his.

You managed to briefly look up at your commander, desperate to see that he was enjoying himself as much as you were. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he gazed down at you, his eyes almost wet as he held you, fucked himself in your tight hole.

He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“Y/n… holy fuck, y/n…”

Suddenly Rocinante’s thrusts were getting harder, rougher, his grip on your hips getting strong enough to bruise, his breath coming in little gasps.

“Y/n, i’m so close…”

Your own cock was twitching as well, begging for a second release, and you slid one hand from around his waist to jack yourself off hungrily.

“Cum in me, Commander Rocinante,” you begged, staring into his eyes as you stroked your cock, eager to paint his abs white while he filled you.

And with a strangled wail, fill you he did, his cock twitching as it pumped spurt after spurt of hot cum deeply into your hole. The sensation of his seed splashing against your inner walls was enough for you to follow, burying your face against Roci’s pectorals with a long cry as you shot another load onto him.

“Baby, baby, baby, baby…” Rocinante gasped, pulling you so close you almost suffocated against his body as he finished, his hips bucking against yours with a vengeance until finally he collapsed, muscles relaxing. A moment later and you collapsed with him, and Roci lay you both back against the soft brown fur of the rug beneath you.

A moment of silence passed, Roci playing with your hair as he gazed at you, one his arms still around you.

“My y/n,” he finally purred when he caught his breath. “My sweet y/n.”

“I can’t believe we finally did that,” you laugh, nuzzling yourself against him, happier than you could ever remember being.

“I can’t wait to see what the other Ensigns will think when I tell them I have a boyfriend.”

You sat up, an indignant blush creeping up your face. “Boyfriend? Who the fuck said anything about boyfriends?”

Rocinante didn’t flinch. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious where this is heading, don’t you?”

“No!” You stood up, wobbling a little on your post-orgasm legs. Jesus, this man is going to crack me open no matter what I do, isn’t he? “Fuck buddies, or friends with benefits maybe, but not boyfriends!”

Roci just laughed, which you found very annoying. “If you say so, y/n.”

“Commander! Y/n!!”

The voice of Ensign Parvati suddenly echoed from outside the window. “Are you guys alive? …We beat back the Torrez pirates! …Hello?”

Rocinante’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, I forgot about the rest of the squadron.” Frantically he looked around, grabbing his shirt and pants, crashing into everything that wasn’t bolted down as he quickly put on his clothes. “Christ, I am such a bad commander…”

It was your turn to laugh as you stood up, grabbing your own clothes. “You’re fine! Parvati said we beat them.”

He turned to smile at you, affixing his Marine cap to his head. “I can’t say I regret getting so distracted, to be honest.”

“Jesus, you’re corny.”

“You love it.”

You couldn’t help but grin back at him as the two of you finished getting dressed, ready to find your squadron and celebrate your victory.

And although he was not your boyfriend, although he did not know you—you would never let him truly know you— although he was simply your commanding officer who happened to turn lover, nothing more and nothing less—as you walked out the door, you pulled him down to you and very gently pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Maybe next time you and Bellemere smoked weed and watched old cartoons, maybe you’d see if he wanted to come along.

———————————————————————

God DAMN do I love writing me some slow burn 😍 This is my first time writing mlm so please let me know if there’s anything I can improve on!

Did I invent an entire island with a fur industry just so I could make my characters fuck on a fur rug? You’ll just have to decide for yourself 😏

I think there’s enough here to warrant a part 2, if anyone wants to hear it. I had a lot of fun playing with the idea of a character trying to grapple alone with their trauma and self esteem and meeting someone as incorrigibly healing as our darling Rocinante. If this gets notes, who knows what could happen…?

Also, shoutout to my real Torrez Diego, I sincerely hope you never read this fic but you’re cool and deserve to have a scary pirate named after you 💚

As always, thanks for reading!

#Diglett writes #donquixote corazon #donquixote rocinante #donquixote rosinante #bellemere one piece #Rocinante #Rosinante #rosinante x reader #one piece marines #please read I promise the smut is worth it #read and review #feedback wanted #one piece #one piece fanfic

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bordysbae · 1 year

Note

can u do 10 with barzy please?

“more than that”

mathew barzal x fem!reader

10. “you make me feel safe”

warning: cheating, cursing

wc: 1.5k

as you’re sat in the back of an uber heading to god knows where, quiet sobs escape your lips. you wipe the mascara rolling down your cheeks, accidentally getting it on your sleeves. as gross as it is, you look like a sick panda with all the mascara around your eyes and snot under your nose. the tears keep flowing as you replay the moment that happened only ten minutes before this.

“who keeps texting you babe?” you asked, looking at your fiancé across the couch.

“no one, just work” he mumbled, frantically grabbing his phone and silencing it. eventually he got up to use the bathroom and you took your chance. you typed in his password and looked at his recent texts.

from: coworker

i need you.

you’re missing out on this ;) *attachement: 2 images*

cmon answer me babe

your mouth fell agape and your heart fell. tears welling in your eyes. he came back from the bathroom and his eyes widened as he saw you holding his phone. “what the fuck are you doing y/n! what the actual fuck?! he shouted at you, causing you to jump at the suddenness.

“how long marcus?” you choked out, holding back tears.

“god damn it. cmon babe i’m sorry, she means nothing!” your fiancé said as he slowly approached you.

“how fucking long marcus!” you yelled, the tears beginning to fall. marcus stuck out his hand to wipe your tears and you smacked it away.

“answer the fucking question!” you shouted.

“three months. i’ve been seeing her for three months. is that what you wanted to fucking hear?!” he yelled back at you. your heart rate began to increase and you stood up from the couch.

“i can’t believe you! three months ago it was my birthday you asshole! were you seeing her on my birthday!?” you angrily sobbed, hoping he would reply with no.

“i’m so sorry, y/n. please forgive me she means nothing to me!”

“oh you’re fucking done! you’re so done! i’m leaving! fuck you marcus!” you raged, scurrying into your guys’ bedroom. you began grabbing any and everything you could that belonged to you.

“don’t leave i’m so sorry! it won’t happen again i promise!” marcus pleaded.

“we’re over marcus. you can even take the ring back! i’ll grab my shit tomorrow and i’m moving out.” you said before slamming the door behind you. you ordered an uber as fast as possible, and typed in the only other new york address you knew by heart.

you attempt to build up the courage to press the buzzer on the building, but you eventually decide to do so as rain starts to fall from the sky. “who is it?” you hear the familiar voice speak through the speaker. a sudden pain hits your chest, and in your broken state it almost makes you cry again.

“hey mat.” you say, fiddling with the bottom of your sleeve.

“holy shit! y/n? let me buzz you in hold on” he says, as the door buzzes and unlocks. you walk into the unfamiliar building and mat exits one of the elevators. he’s wearing a pair of navy joggers and a hoodie. he has a look of shock across his face, but it instantly changes to worry when he sees your current state.

“what’s wrong?” he says as he wraps you in a hug. the tightness of his arms around your body was something you’ve missed deeply over the years. everything comes crashing down again and the tears start falling. “oh darling don’t cry, cmon let’s go to my apartment” he says as he takes your bag from you and leads the both you to elevator.

once in his gorgeous apartment he sets your bag down in the guest room and you both sit down on the couch. “are you ready to tell me what happened?” he asks softly.

“you remember marcus, my—“

“fiancé yes, i saw your instagram post. i was gonna text you congratulations but— sorry, continue.” he stops his ramble, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“ex-fiancé. marcus cheated on me, i found out like an hour ago. we just moved back to new york like a month ago, so you’re really the only one here that i knew i could come to. i’m sorry if it’s weird, i know we haven’t spoken in a while.” you say shyly. there was probably someone else you could’ve gone to, but you were such a mess that you didn’t even realize you were telling the uber driver mats address until it was too late. despite you and mat losing contact, you still had his text saved from when he told you his new address, just in case.

“i’m so sorry y/n. you know i never liked him, so i’m not really surprised, he’s a douche. sorry i know that’s not the right thing to say right now, but it’s true and you know that i’ve never liked him. but i’m so sorry, bug. you don’t deserve this” he frowns at you pitifully, using the nickname he began calling you in seventh grade.

you sigh, “change of topic, how have you been? it’s been awhile.”

“i’ve uh— been alright.” he sighs before continuing again, “y/n i’m really sorry that i never texted or called. it kept me up at night that i did that to you, and eventually it became too late and i never got the chance to make it up to you. i’ve really missed you.”

“i’ve missed you too matty.” you smile at him, taking his hand in yours. “can i ask why you never called? it really hurt me, you’re my best friend mat.”

“i can’t tell you.” he mumbles, you almost miss what he says but you manage to hear it.

“why not?”

“it’s not the right time.”

“tell me mat. i came to you after two years of no contact, i don’t even know why i came to you of all people, especially after what you did. the least you can do is tell me why you cut me off.”

“because i’m in love with you! i cut you off because i couldn’t sit there and watch you fall in love with someone else y/n! yeah, i got ‘busy with hockey’ but only a fool would drop you for that. you’re my best friend, actually no scratch that. you’re more than that. you’re my person, y/n.” he says, making you gasp.

“what?”

“god y/n, were you really that clueless? i’ve been in love with you since homecoming freshman year. i’ll never forget, you went to the dance with that douchebag brady clarke, and i remember i was so upset because i wanted to take you, but you were so happy. and then brady ditched you to go to a party where he made out with some cheerleader. you were devestated, so i called my mom to take us to go get ice cream. that’s when i knew that i was in love with you, and that i’d always be there to pick up the pieces when you needed. just like i am now,” mat admits.

your mouth falls agape, “do you really mean that?”

“of course i do. that’s why i never texted congratulations when you and marcus got engaged. i was so happy for you, but i was also so upset. i knew i had no right to feel sorry for myself. i never told you how i felt, and when you and marcus began dating i kind of just went ghost. then you guys moved to new jersey after 6 months and that’s when we really lost contact. i thought i’d never see you again, but here you are.” he chuckles slightly, making you smile.

“thank you mat. you’ve always been there for me, and i’m so sorry i never saw any of that. i wish i would’ve told you how i felt, because for all of high school i had the fattest crush on you, but i was too afraid to say anything,” you blush.

“really?”

“oh yeah, i’m surprised you never figured it out.”

“well now i did” he smirks. you guys hold eye contact for a moment before you both lean in. your lips meet and it feels like the world stopped spinning. your hands find their way into mats hair and his cup your cheeks. you both pull back a few moments later, smiles on both of your faces.

“it should’ve been me who you were with, not marcus” he whispers, making you giggle.

“you’re not wrong,” you reply quietly.

“it’s been a long night, why don’t we go cuddle in my bed? we can watch a movie too” he suggests, and you nod in response. you both get ready for bed and crawl into his king sized bed. despite the bed being large and spacious, you guys still choose to be close and curled up right next to each other.

your head rests on mats bare chest as he gently traces small shapes onto your arm. “mat, you make me feel safe.” you say softly.

“i’m glad. i’ve really missed you, y/n.” he says, and you feel the vibrations of him speaking against your cheek.

“i missed you so much more.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal fluff #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mathew barzal imagine #ny islanders #hockey blurb #hockey imagine

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sillystarters · 5 months

Text

it's always sunny in philadelphia season sixteen starter sentences.

starter sentences taken from episodes one - three from season sixteen of it's always sunny in philadelphia. part one of ??

have you ever seen teenage mutant ninja turtles ?

you spent close to $20,000 on a couch you never owned.

that's pretty bad business fellas.

now listen i have glued my hand to a door so they can't physically remove me.

you know, i know stuff.

that's money talk right there.

how much nut do you go through a month?

are you storing up your nut or are you blowing through it?

i'll give you fifty cents for a buck.

come, have a seat.

it was super cheap dude.

well listen, i don't really have any interest in your bulk tin of low end economy nuts.

yeah don't make a mess.

what's behind that door?

holy shit! what the fuck is this?

i wasn't tryin' to be crypto about it.

this is tits!

can i sleep in here?

we're gonna blow our shoes out with all this walking.

how is this not a big deal?

move past it dude, move past it man.

i really ultimately don't give a shit.

did you glue your hand to my door?

i can tell you're mad.

i can't deal with this.

and just leave me here all alone?

i don't wanna be a bad host.

you know what, this was a mistake.

i can't sleep.

what is going on with you dude?

what you workin' on there bud?

is that thing loaded, by the way?

get off my back.

you know what? screw this.

i am in the prime of my life.

okay so it was loaded, my mistake. don't be so dramatic.

it's not like anybody's in any real danger.

getting shot in the face is pretty cool.

i do care about the money though.

i got some bad news for ya, bud.

i figured you probably forgot too or something.

did you try to pull out your own teeth?

i'm so sorry.

i didn't have the heart to tell you.

those ungrateful bitches.

i can't believe you did this!

i'm not mad at you okay? it's fine.

you did make a mistake.

i didn't mean to upset you.

this is not working.

should we just attack him and take it?

shut up!

this is my worst nightmare in my entire life.

she burnt the shit outta me.

i got a little surprise for ya.

you wanna take it easy? goddamn. just one bite at a time.

ha! i almost ate my gun.

i hope everyone brought their appetite because i made quiche!

this is like, everything you've ever wanted.

that is ... sad.

this is so annoying.

alright, where to now?

a perfect day can't last forever.

what the hell are you doing?

you're outta control with that thing.

just barge right in okay don't be shy.

oh my god what are you doing here?

this is so distasteful.

asmr, dickweed!

how long has it been?

that's a definite pass for me.

this is a million to one shot and i've got a really good feeling about this.

our luck just turned around.

i don't wanna have my ass handed to me.

we have a problem.

whatever you do, don't laugh.

this is bad, dude.

what? why are you trying to break my door down at three in the morning?

i just wanted to ask if you could kindly keep the noise down.

this was very sweet of you to bake these for me.

it's a trophy, see? it says cunt of the year. that's you!

bad things are going to happen to you one day. i guarantee it.

you earned it!

we're not having bad luck, we're having good luck.

come here you rat! die!

it's time to make good on your end of the bargain.

what is your deal, man?

i'm going to beat you with my shoe!

we gotta take this seriously.

go make your apologies!

i'm done listening to this.

'just in case' is as good of a reason to believe in anything as any.

i don't believe in that bullshit.

well, that's not good.

that's a bad omen!

boy, that's a shame.

thank you for this.

i'm just trash right? that's what you said.

i got you a sixer!

i gotta show you something but you gotta keep it a secret.

you're not following.

it makes literally no sense.

a moment of your time?

i'm sorry your dad doesn't like you.

#starter sentences #rp starter sentences #inbox prompts #rp inbox prompts #iasip starter sentences

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