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koocycle · 9 months

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screw up; over wine | drabble i.

synopsis; jungkook wants to make your first date special and unlike any other night you’ve had before. while determined to win your heart over with a fancy, romantic dinner that includes sweet, tasty chardonnay and medium rare steaks, not everything goes according to his plan.

pairing; boyfriend! jungkook x model! female reader

word count; 4.1k

genre; fluff, baby angst probably

warnings; none

timeline; this drabble is set 7 years ago, at the very start of the over wine couple’s relationship where jungkook is a finance major and oc is still active in the modelling industry. they’re both in their early 20s here!

author’s note; a thank you drabble for all the support and encouragement i’ve been receiving the past two weeks!! also a lil drabble for the people who aren’t a fan of angst and still punched through that 38k last chapter :) enjoy this little tidbit of the start their relationship before it all became messy and went downhill

series masterlist | over wine universe

The sound of the lively chatter at the tables surrounding you had gone over your head before. The clinking of cutlery amplifies and bubbles of laughter fill the air the moment Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom and all of a sudden, you watch yourself become a nerve-wrecking mess, unsure what to do the minute you’re left alone and forced to listen to the couples at the tables on your sides. You can feel their eyes on you, noticing the way they keep glancing at you with some sort of pity in their eyes. The bustling restaurant suddenly feels much more crowded and you can’t help but feel exposed with him now gone, the bill at your table staring back at you like it tells you everything Jungkook didn’t have the balls to say.

It’s only when the waitress comes back a second time around when you finally search your handbag for your card and hand it to her, plastering a smile on your face that is supposed to copy the one you were previously wearing. You could tell she was getting impatient before, her hair tied into a bun so slick, you were sure she was unable to move the brows at her forehead.

She’s been eyeing you and Jungkook ever since you came in and sat down, it was hard not to notice, seeing the way her lips pursed as she tongued the front of her teeth when Jungkook ordered you the most expensive Chardonnay on the menu. And at the end, when he left for the bathroom about five seconds after he read the price at the bottom of the receipt, you could swear you saw a vein pop at her forehead. It was funny back then. Though now that he’s been gone for nearly ten minutes, each and every bit of humor has left your body just like you watched it happen to that woman before. The inkling feeling at your chest enlarges each time somebody locks eyes with you and shares that sorrowful, pitiful smile, and you lose it.

You had a good time tonight, that much you can’t deny, and you refuse to be pitied. Especg not by a bunch of strangers. You know everyone at the restaurant had seen it at this point. Seen the way Jungkook had leaned over the table with crossed arms supporting him while that charming, boyish smile painted his face, resulting in a flush to your cheeks as you tried to hide it and blame it on the wine that must have gotten to your head. You felt luckier than anyone else in the room only half an hour ago, where you thought the dates around you couldn’t compare. Like they couldn’t have gotten better than yours by the end of the night.

Yes, embarrassment fills your chest when the waitress hands you back your card and flashes you a knowing smile. However, you refuse to let it bring you down. Humiliation draws over you as you stand up from your seat and make your way over to the corner Jungkook disappeared behind, each step of your stiletto heels to the restaurant’s floor tiles accentuating the flow of your mini dress against your ass. You know eyes are on you, but you ignore it and keep your head high. If you had driven here yourself, you probably would have let the guy rot in the men’s restroom until they had found him, though for now, you still need him for that twenty-minute ride back home.

And it’s not like you mind paying for tonight’s dinner. As a matter of fact, if Jungkook had simply asked you to cover the bill, you know you would’ve reached out for your wallet without a second thought. He made you feel at ease from the start on; ensuring your beef was cooked to perfection, sitting you down on the booth while he did so on the chair. Even double checking whether or not your glass of Chardonnay was sweet enough to your liking, if you needed another napkin at your neck so you wouldn’t stain that pretty little dress, and if you weren’t getting cold right beneath that airconditioning screwed to the ceiling–ready to run back to the car to get your jack from the backseat.

That’s right, you wouldn’t have minded, because Jungkook has been perfect all night. And no matter how many times you thought to yourself “God damn, you’re having a blast and so is he,” you wouldn’t have minded if at the end of the night he’d be like, “hey, this probably isn’t working out and we should never do this again.” Because, sure, then it is what it is. But at least you’ve got more class than him if you think it’s a shitty thing to hide in the men’s restroom the moment the bill is served instead of growing a pair and telling you exactly that in your face.

‘‘Hyung, please, I need you right now.’’ It is the first thing you hear once you round the corner and you come face to face with his back, his phone is held to his ear and it appears his fingers are pinching the bridge at his nose. ‘‘It’s just that I’m really into this girl, and I can swear she feels the same way. I can’t afford fucking it up now. I promise I’ll pay you back by the end of the month, okay?’’

It stings more than you’d like to admit. You lean against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you try to process the situation. Part of you wants to confront him right there, tell him the bill has been taken care of and ask him why he brought you here if he knew he couldn’t even pay for it. He could at least tell you to stay within a reasonable budget, where the wine bottle didn’t have to cost 400 bucks and each additional sauce wouldn’t have to cost another 15 on top.

Would he be scared you’d judge him if he brought you some place else?

‘‘I know, I know,’’ he mumbles into his phone, throwing his head back. ‘‘I didn’t want to bring her somewhere downtown and disappoint her, that’s all. How was I supposed to know the prices were that high if they don’t write it down the menu?’’

You have to bite your lip to hold the laughter from escaping. It’s cute, the way he thinks, because the moment you’d see a menu without its prices mentioned, one thing most people would do is run out the building before they charge you for the lukewarm water that’s already served on the table. You can’t help but find his reasoning cute and endearing, his sincerity shining through and you can tell he truly wanted to make tonight special for you. The fact that he was worried about disappointing you speaks volumes about how much he cares. Although, next time around, you’d find him a little cuter if he were honest with you. You really wouldn’t think much less of him if he asked you to pay the bill.

‘‘Thanks, hyung. So much.’’ He breathes out, and you can only figure the person on the other end of the line is transferring the money to his bank account as you stand there. ‘‘I’m dodging a bullet here.’’

It is only when he hangs up the phone that he turns around, halting in his tracks at the sight of you standing there. With his phone still in hand, Min Yoongi’s contact number still displayed on the screen, his expression changes from shock to worry as he sees you standing there, arms folded over another as you’re leaned up against the wall.

‘‘Hi.’’ You smile.

And you have the prettiest smile. Even though it’s closed lipped and seems a little ironic, he thinks you own the most beautiful smile in the room. ‘‘Hey,’’ he says, his eyes faltering even though he’s quick to cover up. Sauntering over, he places a hand at your hip to guide you the other way, over to the cashier. ‘‘I’m sorry that took so long, you know how moms can be.’’ He snickers quietly, ‘‘you’re already two years into college and she still calls every night to ask if you’ve eaten.’’

You stand there, amused by his poor attempt to brush off the situation, His hand on your hip feels warm, and you find yourself swayed by his touch. ‘‘Oh, I see,’’ You play along, unable to suppress the playful glint in your eyes. ‘‘So it was your mom who kept you on the phone for so long? For a hot minute I thought you were bailing on me back here.’’

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘‘With the way you look tonight? I’d be crazy to.’’ His eyes linger on you, shamelessly sneaking down your figure in a long, exposed glance, appreciating the white mini dress that cuts right beneath your ass, accentuating your every curve. He doesn’t even try to hide the boyish grin that works its way up his lips, the hand at your hip instead traveling to the small of your back.

Your cheeks flush a little at the compliment, and you turn to face him completely, a flat hand to his chest. ‘‘Smooth talker,’’ you tease, head tilting sweetly as a rush of warmth flows through you.

He grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘‘Just speaking the truth,’’ he replies, loving the way your eyes grow so big the moment he holds you close and you start looking up at him. He is still running his hand at your back in small circles as he subtly pulls you closer to him, loving the way you just let him. ‘‘Let’s take care of the bill and get you home safely. Are we all set?’’

You nod cutely, ‘‘I am,’’ you say, and Jungkook guides you around by the waist, his free hand digging into the back pocket of his dress pants before you interrupt him, intertwining your arm with his as you lead the both of you out the door instead. ‘‘And I already took care of it.’’ You teasingly whisper in his ear, the smile that you wear on your face undeniable.

Jungkook’s grin falters, halting in his tracks once you’re outside. His brows furrowed together, clearly taken aback. ‘‘Wait, you paid?’’ He asks softly, seeming a little deflated even as you stand before him with that pretty smile on your face. He usually can’t resist to bring one out himself when your lips break into one, though it comes a little more difficult this time. ‘‘You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I had everything planned out,’’ his hands come to cup your cheeks. ‘‘It was me who asked you out. That means that I’m supposed to treat you tonight.’’

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and your heart softens at the genuine concern. It is only for a moment that you consider telling him you overheard his phone call with his roommate, and no matter how comfortable Jungkook made you feel tonight alone, you remember it’s only your first date, and you’d hate for things to get sappy so quickly. ‘‘Well, you basically left me all alone with that piece of paper. How could I control myself?’’ It’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke, he can see it in the way you smile at him, but he can’t help but think there’s some truth to it. ‘‘Come on, bring me home,’’ even with the heels you’re wearing, you have to stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘‘These heels aren’t doing me justice anymore.’’

Jungkook chuckles softly, the tension not yet easing between you even as you drag him to the car by intertwining your hands together. As he opens the door for you to get in, he can’t help but feel like he’s somehow failed today’s date. Looking back at how it must’ve looked like when he ran off to call Min Yoongi for help like he’s still in highschool with a silly little school crush, he feels a pang of embarrassment at the thought of appearing so immature and unprepared in front of you. He wanted everything to be perfect, bring you someplace nice to impress you and show you he could treat you well. Instead, he just looks like a little boy who tried to trick you into paying for the first date.

Even as Jungkook is seated in the drivers’ seat and takes the route back to your home, he turns up the volume of the radio, hoping to drown out the disappointment in himself. He definitely screwed up tonight. He doesn’t even know if he wants you to say something to him; he just knows that you don’t, but the glances you keep sneaking his way for the entire ride back home are enough to make him feel even worse. You can see that something is bothering him, that his playful, flirtatious vibe from before has shifted and is now replaced with something you can’t decipher.

You start to wonder if it’s something you said. Wonder if he’s now getting cold feet and suddenly realizes maybe he didn’t enjoy himself as much as you thought. He hadn’t given you any reason to think like that, though. Not after how sweet he was tonight, not after the way you heard him talk about you over the phone with his friend.

As the car pulls up in front of your place, Jungkook turns off the engine, the radio cutting off as the silence envelopes both of you again. The clicking sound of your seatbelt comes fast and you glance over at him again, finding him already looking at you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

He gets out and walks you to the door after that, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants as he doesn’t care to spare you another glance. The shift in energy is obvious between the both of you, not a single soul out on the street at this hour of the day to distract you from the uneasy silence. Your stiletto heels click against the pavement and you have to bite your bottom lip to make the short but uncomfortable way back a little more bearable.

At the end of a date comes a kiss. It’s how it happens in all the romcoms you watch–it happens in all the chick flicks and all the Disney short movies. But this is no Stephanie Perkins love story, not with the way you’re standing there, hugging your arms as the chilly breeze crosses your skin.

‘‘I guess this is where we split ways, right?’’ You finally break the silence, your voice tinged with uncertainty. You don’t want the night to end on such an awkward note, but the tension between you is undeniable.

Jungkook’s gaze softens, and he takes a step closer to you, the distance between your bodies diminishing. ‘‘I had a great time tonight,’’ he admits, his voice gentle as he reaches to unfold your arms, fingertips grazing over them before they get to your soft hands and intertwines them with his own. ‘‘And I really want to see you again,’’ he says quietly, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. ‘‘You know, if that’s okay with you.’’

You have to tongue the front of your teeth in an attempt to hide that broad smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips. ‘‘Yeah, I’d like that.’’ You say, and you can feel your heart race against your chest only with the way he’s looking down at you.

‘‘And I’ll be transferring the money right back to your account first thing back home, alright?’’

‘‘Oh,’’ you raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting him to bring up the topic of money again. ‘‘Really, that’s okay. I don’t mind having to spend a little. And it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? We enjoyed ourselves tonight, and that’s probably what’s most important.’’

‘‘It is what’s most important,’’ he agrees with a boyish smile, heavy lidded eyes staring back at you. ‘‘But it was me who asked you to join me for dinner. Therefore it was my responsibility to treat you, you know? To make sure you had a good time, and to guarantee the bill was taken care of and nowhere within your reach.’’ Jungkook says, one hand held against his chest as he tilts his head in the most charming way you can think of. ‘‘That was my mistake. But I won’t be able to go to bed with a good feeling knowing you paid for all that. We didn’t dine at McDonald’s, you know?’’

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his playful reference, because he’s right. There was a lot more on that receipt than two cheeseburgers and fries on the side. Jungkook took you out to wine and dine; told you beforehand to wear the prettiest dress you own and he spared no expense to make sure the evening was special. It was clear he wanted to impress you, even if you hadn’t overheard his phone call.

Your hands caress his chest until they reach to play with the collar of his blouse, as if to fix it. ‘‘Then maybe it’s time we pick out some place that’s a little more affordable, don’t you think?’’ You’re not nagging at him, your voice is gentle, indirectly telling him he doesn’t need to spend money on you that he doesn’t have. ‘‘You know I’d be fine with a pizza and a soda, right?’’

The feeling of your fingertips tickling at his neck makes him bite his lip, your arms leaning on his broad shoulders for support. ‘‘You know I can’t take you out for pizza.’’

You smile, enjoying the closeness between you when his own hands fall to your hips. Tugging you closer, just slightly. ‘‘Why not?’’ You tease, unable to keep that toothy smile off your face. ‘‘I bet we could have just as much fun sharing a pizza as we did tonight.’’

‘‘We would,’’ Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and he looks a little torn. ‘‘But you’re special,’’ his lips curl into a small smile when the words leave him, watching as you throw your head back a little in surprise, the warmth rising to your cheeks not gone unnoticed. ‘‘And I don’t know… it’s probably just something you do, but you make me want to give you all the things you’ve never been given before, all right?’’

He’s speaking from the heart, and the longer he looks into those eyes of yours, the more this lovestruck feeling intensifies in the deepest pits of his chest. Because it’s true; Jeon Jungkook is smitten. You pick up his FaceTime calls in the middle of the night wearing silken, champagne pink Chanel pajamas, you carry your Miss Dior perfumes in the side pockets of your Armani handbags and your agent takes you out to fine dinings at least once a month–you’re handed all those luxury items by all sorts of brands trying to get a sponsor out of you because, they as well, know you’re something else. Something big.

You stand before him in a dress he doesn’t even want to know the price of, and instead just wants to admire you. How was he ever going to step up his game and give you things you haven’t seen before? Sure, perhaps Jungkook was a little starstruck the moment the price at the end of the bill caught his eye, but when it came to you, it was worth it. He doesn’t make that kind of money yet, but he will, and when he receives his degree and finally does that, then yes, he wants to spoil you rotten. You deserve it all.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, touched by his genuine sentiment. ‘‘Jungkook,’’ you begin softly, your voice tinged with emotion. ‘‘I had a blast tonight, I really did, and I appreciate you so much for the effort you put in the entire evening. But I really hope you didn’t do all of this with the idea I would like you any less if it indeed was just a burger and some fries from McDonald’s.’’

Jungkook’s eyes soften. ‘‘No, that’s not it at all,’’ he assures you, his voice gentle and sincere. ‘‘I wanted to show you a good time, to make you smile.’’

‘‘I smiled all the way to the end of the night,’’ you sing-song, leaning into his touch when you cup his cheeks. ‘‘So no S.O.S phone calls with Min Yoongi at the end of our next date night?’’

He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze downward as a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. ‘‘You overheard my phone call,’’ you watch as the embarrassment overtakes him and you think it’s rather cute how he tries to hide his face from you, the sight of your feet suddenly so much more interesting. ‘‘Isn’t that great.’’ He mumbles, wincing on the inside.

‘‘I did. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed of.’’ You tilt his head back up, forcing him to lock eyes. ‘‘I actually think it’s kind of cute you wanted to impress me. Am I really that intimidating?’’

Jungkook’s cheeks warm, and he can’t help but let out a laugh at your teasing. His thumbs start caressing the material at the small of your back, leaving you a little weak in the knees. ‘‘Intimidating isn’t the right word,’’ he admits, pursing his lips like he’s thinking hard. ‘‘I’d say you’re frightening. And not in a good way, either. Rather like one of those Disney villains that would keep you awake as a kid, you know?’’ He smirks cutely, playfully nudging at your side and causing you to squirm at his arms. ‘‘Ursula or something. You look just like her, the big eyes and the crazy hair and all.’’

‘‘Do I now?’’ You arch a single brow, amusement crippling at your lips.

He hums, tugging you close to him until your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his warmth radiating through his clothes. ‘‘Like two beads of water.’’ He says a little softer now, his breath fanning against your lips as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

The space between you seems to shrink, the world around you fading into oblivion the more you’re drawn into him. ‘‘You wouldn’t look at me as if you want to kiss me if that were true.’’

Jungkook’s breath catches at your words, and he can’t deny the truth in them. The teasing glint in your eyes sends a jolt of excitement through him, making him want to prove you wrong. His fingers gently trail along your jawline, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine.

‘‘Oh, really?’’ He retorts playfully, his voice low and husky. ‘‘And what if I do want to kiss you?’’ His gaze intensifies, holding you captive as he leans closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. The air cackles with anticipation, and time seems to slow down as the world around you fades away.

Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his as he hovers so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sends a rush of desire through you. Your fingers instinctively find their way to his chest, the anticipation building between you both.

‘‘Do it and find out.’’

He doesn’t hesitate. You’ve given him the green light and with a surge of boldness running through him, he closes the distance between you, and his lips capture yours in a tender, passionate kiss. It’s a perfect collision of desire, a moment that feels like it was meant to be.

You place a hand to his chest, able to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. With your fingers slightly curling at the nape of his neck, arm leaning on his shoulder, you dare to pull him closer to you as he copies your body language not much longer after. He pulls you by the small of your back to make sure it curves and you’re pressed chest to chest. Your breaths mingle, lips eagerly brushing against each other as the kiss deepens and you feel a tingling warmth spreading through your body. His touch is tender and possessive, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Your other hand finds its way to his cheek, caressing it with a soft, adoring touch. It’s a silent reassurance that this is right, that you want this as much as he does.

Time seems to lose all meaning when his lips lingers on yours, it seems like. You’re lost in him, just like how he is lost in you. And when you eventually pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, you both share a soft, contented sigh. Your eyes meet, and a knowing smile passes between you.

‘‘Let’s save the rest for our second date, yeah?’’

Your heart is still racing, and his touch leaves your body feeling electric. You can see the desire in his eyes as gazes down at you, and with a gentle caress at his cheek, you nod in agreement, a playful glint in your eyes.

‘‘Definitely,’’ you whisper, your voice breathless.

As you part ways, you fumble with your keys at the door as Jungkook makes his way back to his car. A sense of contentment washes over you, knowing you’ve found someone who makes your heart race and your soul soar.

And as you steal a glance from over your shoulder only one last time for tonight, you find him doing the same thing at the exact same moment. Your eyes meet, and you cutely avert your eyes back forward the moment it happens, missing the way he bites his bottom lip to hold back a cheeky grin, shaking his head in amusement.

You’re truly one of a kind.

#jungkook drabble #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fic

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mydearlybeloathed · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ¹

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: once upon a time, you weaseled your way into the demon pirate hunter's confidance, and maybe even his heart too. but one bounty gone wrong leads to you being left behind, and you just can't understand why. now, zoro's departure draws near, and your tolerance of his bullshit has run thin. it's time to face this, or risk losing him forever.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, angst with a happy ending (sort of), mention of alcohol, an oc i really like :), reader has a backstory, takes place three years before Zoro meets Luffy

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: lost at sea

The breeze washed in from the sea, brushing your hair away from your face so you couldn't hide behind it any longer.

The stitched up slash across your back throbbed with every breath you took, and honestly, you were shocked you were even standing this long. But you’d spent three days lying in a stupid bed, arguing with your green-haired companion to no avail. You couldn't stand to lay down any longer.

He was leaving you on this stupid fucking island, and there was nothing you could say to dissuade him.

So now, standing on the docks of Syrup Village, you tried to ignore how your heart ached watching Zoro make arrangements with the captain of a nearby supply ship. Despite every hardship you’d known in your life, never had you felt so helpless. And that was saying something.

It felt like just yesterday you’d been an apprentice under a skilled apothecary, studying chemistry and botany day in and day out, displaying prowess in the field. You were on your way to opening your own apothecary one day. Until the pirates attacked.

For years after they sieged your village, you were the decorated captive of cruel pirates, forced to use your knowledge and skill to craft poisons that would end hundreds of lives over the course of your imprisonment. The fates of your faceless victims haunted you by night, even now.

But then, after so long of that neglect and servitude, you were freed. It was just over a year ago the pirate crew was torn apart by a single boy with green hair and three swords. His intention hadn't been to rescue you, of course, that was clear by the bounty he took on the captain of the ship. But he didn’t leave you there, and to you, that meant everything.

Zoro found you annoying to no end, what with your insistence that you repay your debt to him despite his insistence that he wanted nothing to do with you. Still, he never truly forced you away, not finding it in himself to do so.

So leads the tale of how you forced your company upon the notorious Demon Pirate Hunter, becoming his life’s greatest annoyance, and consequently, his only friend.

Zoro had never been too socially inclined, always managing to say the wrong thing. He felt glaring was the extent of communication he needed—and you never minded. You let him have his silence and made a little game out of trying to make him be the first to break it.

When he glared, you glared right back, keeping his stare with twitchy eyes and silly expressions until he had to break the contact, lest you discover the smile hidden on his face.

Eventually, he stopped trying to ditch you at every port, opting to feign sleep and curl into your side atop a musty inn mattress, shared to “save beri” as he put it. You knew it was more than that, of course, but you let him keep the pretense that he wasn’t fond of you for at least a little while more.

The pair of you fought side by side, tracking down pirates by day and whispering in low-lit corners by night. The happiest you’d ever been was by Zoro’s side, but all happy things end.

Zoro’s most recent bounty had gone very, very south.

One moment you were in the middle of following Zoro’s lead, taking out the sparse crew with your dagger. It was supposed to be a simple job, with you covering Zoro as he went for the captain of the crew. Key word being supposed.

The motions leading up to the fatal moment were still a blur, but you would never forget the cold terror that rushed through you as sharp steel slashed the skin of your back. You collapsed immediately, the pain so great that your body chose to go numb to protect you from the intensity.

And though now you swore you were fine, Zoro saw every paranoid glance you cast over your shoulder, as though afraid it would happen again. Suddenly you felt thrown back in time, meek and terrified in the face of cruel pirates, crafting whatever poison they required.

You weren’t very surprised when Zoro told you he wanted you to remain in Syrup Village, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

The village doctor, a woman called Vee, didn’t hesitate to agree to letting you room with her. She had been looking for someone to split rent with anyway. Vee said she could always pay you to deliver medicine, and after hearing of your background in apothecary, she was very excited to expand on your teaching through an apprenticeship. (You hated to admit you were excited to learn how to cure people, not kill them).

It was all so sudden and unreal. Zoro seemed so eager to leave you behind. He hadn't met your eyes since you’d regained consciousness and your entire being ached from the absence of his ever faint smile.

You didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

Zoro's eyes remained on the ground as he approached you, and only when he stood right in front of you did he raise his gaze scan over your body. Still, he never looked you in your eyes. “Are you sure—”

“I’m fine, Zoro,” you cut him off, saying his name sharply, coldly even. In all honesty, you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep away the pain in your body as well as in your heart. “When do you leave?”

“Sunrise.” So soon. The words left his lips like they had no significance at all. Like this wouldn't be the last time he ever saw you. You’d always known Zoro would put his dream above you… but it was very different to experience it in real time.

It seemed he finally realized what a burden you were. It was only a matter of time, really. You cleared your throat, feeling a burn rise from your neck to your tongue as words begged to be let loose.

Not seeing much point in holding back anymore, you let them.

Your gaze flicked back to his face as got right in his line of sight, catching his eyes and locking him in place. The air felt heavy. “I’ll be better in a week at best. I—”

“No.”

It was like getting smacked in the face all over again. To save you the shame of having him see you cry, you turned your face away, a new wash of anger coming over you. “Fine. Fuck, see if I care… You snore anyway.”

Your voice broke off into a weak crack, and you were turning on your heel to leave him on the pier before he could say anything. With tears rolling down your cheeks, you walked into Vee’s little home, sat on the cot she’d given you, and took off your boots. It didn’t feel like home when you slept your sorrows away. There was no warm body at your back, no arm slipped around your waist that would be gone in the morning, off getting a lead on the next bounty.

Sleep found you, somehow, and your dreams were filled with memories of days much better than this.

જ⁀➴

Zoro hated this. Every emotion he was feeling was another dagger to his lungs. Every break of your heart was a scorch on his chest.

He downed another drink, tossing it back in one motion. You’ll be safe here. Syrup Village was… quaint. Free of any action, free of any danger. Though, the more he looked around, the more he thought that this was not your type of scene. He couldn’t explain why, he just knew: you were going to hate this place.

But you were safe. That was all that mattered.

Zoro called the bartender over for yet another drink, not keeping a tally of how many he’d downed that night. Swirling the alcohol around the glass, he forced away every feeling and every doubt. In Syrup Village, you would recover, away from the danger his line of work required.

Never again would he hold your dying body in his arms.

A figure sidled up to him at the bar. He glanced over. There was Vee, the village doctor, and your new housemate. She looked less than pleased as she snapped for the bartender. Receiving a glass of vodka, she turned to Zoro with steely eyes. “She’s beside herself, you know.”

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this. “What do you know?”

Vee’s brows drew with the challenge. “I know that poor girl is lying in my house crying over you, asshole.” She tipped her drink back and slammed it back down. “Let me tell you somethin’, Pirate Hunter.”

Zoro waited, eyes locked on the counter. “The moment she woke up, you know what she said?” Vee let out a weary sigh. “She said where’s Zoro? Is Zoro okay? I need to see Zoro.”

“Your point?”

“My point,” Vee nearly snarled. “Is that I’ve known her what, two days? And it’s already plain to me. If your plan is to make her care for you turn into loathing, you’re on the right track, pal.”

Gripping his empty glass, Zoro was at a loss. He knew you cared for him. Hell, he cared for you just as much, if not more. Which is why he had to do this. You could barely even stand—he saw through your act in seconds—and it’d be much longer than a week for you to entirely recover from your injuries. He felt like clawing out his hair, like screaming even. Why did the right thing feel so very wrong?

Vee leaned on the counter, kissing her teeth. “My advice? Don’t leave with her thinking this is on her.”

“Why would she—”

“Trust me.” Vee settled him with a glare. “She thinks this is her fault.”

Vee knew nothing, Zoro told himself. Vee had no right to step in on his relationship with you, or lack thereof. There was no way in hell Zoro would let Vee’s words get to him.

Which is why he was sitting on the curb across from Vee’s house, trying to figure out what to say to you that would salvage the only friendship he’d had since Kuina.

His head in his arms, Zoro tapped his toe on the cobblestones, and closed his eyes. What would Kuina think of him, so frazzled over a girl like he was a kid again. Not just any girl, though. This was you, so it mattered more than he was ready to admit.

A little grin worked its way up his face. Kuina would call him a coward. She’d punch his arm and tell him to just lay it all out.

“She hates me,” he whispered to no one. “I’m making her hate me.”

Like a ghost, he swore he heard the smug voice of his sparring partner at his side, a ghost's words burning into his brain: What are you gonna do about it, Roronoa?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, pathetically regretting every choice that led him to this moment, but it had been long enough for the street lamps to shut off, casting the road in a dull darkness enough to make him start creating figures in the shadows.

Rubbing at his eyes, Zoro decided he needed some sleep. He left early in the morning, after all. But you, his heart screamed, in direct contrast with his head.

You had completely infiltrated Zoro’s life. You were brash and defiant, insisting on following him around the East Blue until you could repay him for freeing you from your bastard captors. You stayed even after your life debt was paid, your hurricane person sticking to his side. You were like a bruise he discovered one day, unsure where it’d come from and at a loss as to when it would go.

Even now, you were a sore on his heart, working your way into his very soul.

His every blink was haunted by your smile. His every move was watched by your admiring gaze. These days he couldn’t even breathe without knowing you’re safe.

Zoro knew that even if he left and never turned back, he’d never get rid of you. There was too much of you wrapped up in him, and it was terrifying.

He raised his eyes to the house across from him, and glanced over the hand painted sign reading Healing Remedies and Modern Medicines swinging in the midnight breeze. The light in the top window taunted him, the draping curtains daring him to walk in and reconcile.

But what if you didn’t want to? Your temper had always been reliable, never failing to rain upon those who wronged you. Zoro had never had the privilege of being on the receiving end of your wrath, and he was in no mood to start.

A sigh forced its way out of him, heart thundering for reasons beyond him, and Zoro had to wonder why exactly he cared so much.

He was the Demon of the East Blue. The most feared pirate hunter this side of the Grand Line. He wielded Wado Ichimonji. And yet, Roronoa Zoro was crippled by the thought of how crestfallen you had looked that evening. When he’d told you no, something he rarely ever did. If only he could just tell you…

The light in the window went off, and he was really, truly, completely in the dark.

His head hit his knees, one hand going to rest on his sword. Zoro had no clue what to do. Perhaps… Perhaps it would be best to leave it all at this. You would grow to hate him, eventually, but you would never be hurt because of him ever again.

“You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Zoro just about unsheathed his sword, halfway standing by the time his eyes readjusted to the dark, and the outline of you settled in his head. You stood there in a nightgown with your arms crossed, expression unreadable.

He relaxed, sitting back on the curb and averting his eyes. He heard you scoff, the fabric of your dress rustling as you moved to sit beside him. “Idiot,” you murmured, and he had to agree.

Instead of saying what he wanted to, Zoro demanded, “What’re you doing?”

Your eyes burned into the side of his skull, unrelenting in your blatant scorn. Sucking in a breath and letting it out, you felt your tolerance for bullshit meet its end. “I'm sitting. Zoro?”

When he barely even hummed in reply, face turned away from you, you rolled your eyes and grabbed his chin, jerking him around to look you in the eyes. The surprise on his face would’ve been funny had you not been pissed. “Zoro, grow up.”

Zoro would’ve given you the world. He would’ve killed anyone, stolen anything; all you had to do was ask. Yet, he couldn’t seem to find the words, no matter how he tried to force them. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to…” As the sentence faltered on your tongue, Zoro saw that same starvation for the right thing to say in your eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Releasing his chin, you shifted to face Vee’s house, hugging your knees to your chest and allowing the silence to swallow the conversation whole. Your frustration was palpable, radiating off your skin and latching onto Zoro, till the both of you were simply sitting on the curb amidst the complexity of emotions in the air.

It was infuriating.

You raked your hands through your hair and whirled on him suddenly. “I want to know why you’re abandoning me.”

“You’re injured,” he deadpanned, prompting a hefty sigh from you.

“Wounds heal. I’ll heal.” You searched his face, finding he betrayed absolutely nothing, per usual. “Do you think I’m weak?”

His rebuttal was immediate, and quick to be cut off. “I—”

“Because in case you don’t remember, I was on a pirate ship for years before I met you.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know I’m not easy.” Suddenly out of breath, you expelled all your thoughts. “I know I’m annoying and I probably do more harm than good and trust me, I know I’m a burden but I thought maybe… I thought maybe we were friends. I thought that maybe…”

Faltering, you forced yourself to face him, if only to see how much damage you’d done. Imagine your surprise when you found his gaze already zeroed in on you.

His eyes had always been beautiful, always so deep that it felt like you could drown in them if you let yourself. And now they bore into you with an intensity you were unaccustomed to.

“You’ve never been a burden,” he told you.

Raising a brow, “Never?”

You swore you could practically see the memories replayed in his eyes as a little smirk pulled at his lips. “Maybe at first.”

As quickly as it’d formed, your grin slid away, replaced by that same hopeless frown.

You felt it like cupping water in your hands; Zoro was slipping through your fingers with every second that passed. “I just don’t understand. I mean, I get that you liked the lone bounty hunter life but—”

Zoro shook his head. “That’s not it.”

At a loss, you looked at him with a pleading sort of gaze, glassy eyes nearly driving him over the edge. “Then tell me what is. Because I’m just gonna keep spitting out words and we both know that won’t end well.”

For a long time, he didn’t say a word. Maybe he couldn’t, you thought. Was it unfair to demand explanations from him? You were on the brink of telling him to forget everything and wishing him a safe journey, when he spoke, a quake in the usual even tone of his voice.

“Do you even remember what happened?”

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and then the bandages wrapping from your back to your chest became all the more tangible, and your throat went dry. “I… Of course I do,” you said, not entirely sure it was true.

Zoro passed a hand over his face, fidgeting. “Do you remember how much blood you lost? How deep that wound is?” He could barely meet your eyes now, every ounce of the confidence you knew and loved gone missing. “Do you remember that your heart stopped beating?”

You hadn’t known. You hadn’t known any of that… but Zoro did, you realized, aching as he seemed to glare at the space ahead of him. “If I hadn’t gotten you here in time, you would have died.” His jaw set, tight fists rested on his knees. “You nearly died because of me.”

You reacted instantly—you couldn’t stand that look on his face—swiftly reaching for his hand and taking it in yours. “I didn’t die,” you insisted, “because of you. It is not your fault.”

He squeezed your hand. He didn’t really believe you, and you weren’t sure you could say anything to convince him. And when he met your gaze, you swore your heart swelled as realization set in.

You’d always had a hunch that your feelings were reciprocated—you’d always felt that he loved you too. Yet now, as you stared into his pretty eyes, it became a truth settled into the depths of your longing heart. So that’s what this is all about, you thought.

This all felt so wrong. How could he be leaving in the morning, with so many things left unsaid? And if you finally put these emotions to words now, what good would it do?

The prospect of never seeing him again was worse than death itself. There was no way you’d let this be goodbye forever.

“Zoro,” you whispered, tugging on his hand to draw his attention. “Sleep with me?”

His eyes slowly raised to your own, soft despite their cold, and he stood, taking you along with him. You led him into Vee’s house and up to the room she’d supplied you with. Zoro’s hand never once left yours, his thumb running circles on your skin.

When you grimaced as you tried to lay back on the bed, Zoro was there in an instant, letting you squeeze the life out of his hand as he settled down beside you.

He couldn’t help it: ”What was that about being fine?”

It dragged a laugh out of you, and you gazed over at him with your adoration wrapped up in your face. Zoro had never done anything wrong in your eyes—well, except leaving you behind, that is.

You brushed his hair off his forehead, your fingers drifting down to graze his cheek. At long last, the little smile was back on his face, though a bit sadder than usual. You’re sure your own grin looked the same. “You’re pretty when you smile.”

Zoro half rolled his eyes, shifting so he was lying on his side as you laid on your back. “Yeah, you’ve told me.”

“I wanna tell you again,” you shrugged. There was so much you needed to say, but the air was already so full of words, and you were tired. Tonight, you could lay by his side once more, and pretend watching a random barge take him away wouldn't tear your heart in two.

જ⁀➴

Zoro’s spot on the bed was cold when Vee came storming into the room the next morning.

Bleary eyed, you blinked sleep away as her frantic words left you confused to no end. You sat up only to have a dress thrown in your face. Looking it over, you questioned, “What?”

“Get up!” Vee ordered, her tan face a furious shade of red. “Up! Up!”

Your mind wasn’t catching up to your body. Your gaze fell to the bed, and the place where Zoro should have been. The sheets were tossed aside and his boots were gone. A cold pit formed in your gut. “Where’s Zoro?”

Vee exasperated, “The pier!”

In an instant your feet hit the floor, eyes blown wide, all air seized from your lungs. “No! He can’t—”

“Well, he is.” Without warning she spun you around and started to unbutton your night dress. “Put this on. His ship is almost set to leave.”

You’d never dressed so fast in your life, though you lacked shoes and the dress was only halfway tied in the back. You were decent, and that was enough. Bounding out of Vee’s house and through the streets, not one apology left your lips as you dodged in and out of people and carts, set on a desperate sprint to reach the docks.

“I’ll kill him,” you heaved. “I’ll chase him and find him and kill him, dammit.”

Your back ached and your limbs felt weak and you really needed a glass of water, but none of it mattered. If you didn’t make it, none of this mattered.

The flag of the merchant’s ship came into view. The sailors only had a few more crates to load, and then they’d be off. You couldn’t see Zoro anywhere, so there was only one thing left to do: you invaded the ship.

Running up the gangway and ignoring the shouts of the crew on the dock, you stood at the center of the ship’s deck and rounded in a circle, eyes scouring for that green-haired little bitch.

Chest heaving, you nearly whimpered when you still couldn’t see him. Would you have to search the whole ship, turning everything upside down?

You jumped when a hand clamped down on your arm, and you whirled around to find not Zoro, but a very tall, very surly man with a single scar running from his left eye to his jaw. His grip on you was enough to send a shock of fear through you.

“I don’t take kindly to stowaways,” he barked. “And really, you’re not even trying to hide. At least commit to it if you’re thinkin’ of hitchin’ a ride on my ship.”

As you gulped and stared up into his darkly narrowed eyes, there was really only one thing on your mind. “Where is Roronoa Zoro?”

The captain of the ship gaped, and before he could get out another word, a very familiar man rushed down from the helm, a frustrated set in his brow.

You were in no mood for his temper. In a swift motion you broke away from the captain and stormed over to meet Zoro halfway. “There you are, son of a bitch.”

Zoro’s heart was in his head, worried about the deathly glare you now gave him. He steeled himself and started, “I told you—”

“How dare you!” You shoved at his chest, barely knocking him back as crimson tendrils creeped in your vision. “Is this really how you want to leave things?”

He stood solemn, eyes almost sad as they met with yours. “I thought it would be best.”

“For who?” You couldn’t deny the break of your heart, the pieces of it under the sole of his boot. You hoped he saw it on your face. You hoped he acknowledged the damage he’s doing.

The captain awkwardly came up behind you. “Your lass is gonna have to pay for passage, Roronoa.”

“I’m not coming.” “She’s not staying.”

The pair of you kept in a dangerous staring match, your words overlapping.

Still, the captain shuffled on his feet, saying, “Listen, we have a schedule—”

You whirled on him, locking him in place with a single glare. “Give us a minute.” Then, with more sympathy, “Please.”

The captain sighed, rolling his eyes and waving it off as he continued to prepare to depart.

There was little ignoring the curious stares from the ship’s crew as you slowly turned back to Zoro. “You’re a coward.”

“I know.”

“I’m not done,” you said, holding up a hand to stop him. Zoro’s lips snapped shut, his gaze lowering for a moment before he brought it back up, waiting for the blows of your anger.

You took a breath, and finally, “I get why I can’t go with you. I’m a liability. You can’t become the world’s greatest swordsman if you’re busy keeping me alive.” You took a step closer, partially because of the eavesdroppers all around and partially because you wanted to be near him as long as you could.

“So I’ll stay. I'll live and train with Vee and become the greatest healer Syrup Village has ever seen. And maybe I’ll even forgive you for trying to leave without a goodbye, if you can tell me why.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Why what?”

You could have screamed at this man you had the displeasing pleasure of falling in love with. “Why do you care so much?”

“You know why,” he said, stubborn as always. Only, maybe he wasn’t being stubborn, you considered as something like hesitation hovered in his gaze.

Still, you persisted. “No, I wanna hear you say it.” You reached out for him, gently setting a hand on his arm to ease some of his tension. “I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth before you sail away from me.”

“You make it sound so definite,” he said, huffing a laugh as he forced a pained smile.

“Zoro.”

His deep eyes burned into you as his hands rose to softly caress your jaw, his hold featherlight. The spinning of the world began to still, the earth on its axis slowing to allow you just enough time. He got impossibly closer, breaking your anger down to a soft annoyance. You really couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Not like this,” Zoro murmured. “When I tell you how I feel, it’s gonna be when I have the time to show you.”

You rested your palms on the hands that cradled your face. “I’m impatient.”

He only grinned, though it barely reached his eyes. “I know.”

You couldn’t bear to waste this precious time crying, choking down the fire in your throat. You teased, “So what I’m hearing is that you like me too much to leave me stranded forever?”

“Something like that,” he said, hands drifting to your waist.

From somewhere behind him, the captain bellowed, “Roronoa!”

“I know!” Zoro called back, never removing himself from you. He pursed his lips before enveloping you in a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of you. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Your fingers carded through his hair. You hid your face in his neck. Anything to relish the feeling of his arms around you. “I suppose I forgive you.” Squeezing him closer, “Just promise to write.”

Pulling away, he pressed his forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You cupped his jaw in your hands and locked with his eyes. “I'll get stronger. I'll come find you someday, or you'll come back, or—something. But we’ll sail together again. Swear it to me.”

He couldn’t help the smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. Then, Zoro did as you asked. “I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

“Good,” you said, voice finally cracking under the pressure building in your chest.

Somewhere in the village, the morning bell rang true. The sun was fully up over the horizon line. Not a cloud disturbed the bluer-by-the-second sky. A perfect day for sailing, you mused.

You stepped away, swiping at your eyes, and smiled as best you could. It was watery, most likely, and conveyed every bit of your melancholy. Casting a look over his shoulder you saw the captain standing there, ticked and holding up his wristwatch. The breath you let out was shaky as you turned back to Zoro.

“Goodbye,” you said, as if that word did this feeling any justice. Before he could say a word in return, you’d lunged forward to press your lips to his cheek, your hands steadying yourself on his biceps. It was quick, nothing but a peck, and enough to make you lose your nerve instantly.

Skin warm and grinning like a fool, you pivoted in a whirl and made for a quick escape, only getting two steps away when an arm hooked around your middle and pulled you back into a broad chest. Zoro’s breath was loud in your ear, so loud you could hear his goofy smile before you saw it.

Your back still hurt like hell, yet nothing could sway the stretch of your lips as you swiveled in his embrace, finding yourself once again in between his arms. In an instant, memories of months gone by haunted your eyes; memories of nights spent sleepless, only filled with the soft graze of his fingers against your arm; of nights in hasty argument over trivial things such as money or fleeting jealousy; and of moments so dear they nearly felt domestic.

And when he drew you into a feverish kiss, his hands clawing at your shirt to just get a grip of you, the sensation of lips on lips made it feel as though he truly was breathing in your soul and giving you his own in turn, the two energies intermingling in a promise sealed with love and lust and labor.

Your ears were ringing when you registered the morning bells had stopped, and you retreated from the moment. Zoro squeezed your hips, eyes shut as he sightlessly pecked your lips again, then pressed a kiss to your forehead. You leaned up and peppered a few kisses to his jaw.

Finally, time had had its fill of freezing, and commands to depart from port were barked out.

Meeting your eyes, Zoro sighed out another apology before tugging you in one last time, his arms wrapping you up in a warm embrace that had your stitches crying out again. You grimaced despite yourself. “Injured. Still injured.”

He laughed, and you swore you’d get drunk on the sound if you weren’t too careful.

"I'll come back," he whispered in your ear. "I'll be the greatest swordsman and you'll be the greatest apothecary in the world."

"That's quite the duo."

“Lass!” called the captain, standing next to the gangway, preparing to pull it in. “You goin’?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless as you took Zoro’s hand, kissed his palm, and turned away before it was too late. You ran off the ship, down the gangway, and far off into the docks. Your head wanted to run back to Vee’s little house and woe around the rest of the day. Your heart wanted something else entirely.

Like you’d been caught in the gut, you froze, instantaneously backtracking in a sprint to the edge of the docks. The ship taking Zoro away was a good way out, but not far enough to block your voice.

Cupping your hands around your mouth: “Zoro! Roronoa Zoro!”

That mop of moss green hair appeared at the ship’s railing. You grinned from ear to ear and bellowed, “I’m impatient! I love you, Zoro! I love you!”

At such a distance, you couldn’t see his exact reaction, and he couldn’t hear the whispers of the passersby that broke out at such a confession. But he’d heard your every word, his hands gripping the railing like he thought he might slip through the wood of the deck and fall right into the belly of the ocean.

A few sailors whooped and hollered and one dared to clap him on the shoulder, and he would have severed that hand from the man had it not been for the red hot affection coursing through his veins. You were waving, and so he raised his hand and limply waved back.

He would be writing to you the moment he got a hold of some paper, Zoro decided. Until then, he stood at the edge of the ship, watching Syrup Village and Gecko Island and you grow smaller and smaller, and then gone.

There was a tightening around his lungs, and as he retreated into the depths of the ship, he knew his heart had remained on land with you. One day, when you were healed and he was strong enough to make sure you never got injured again, he’d have his heart back, and you along with it.

Until then, your paths diverged, to be met once again some years later.

જ⁀➴

Nami’s little ship taking on water was the least ideal occurrence possible. Yet, deep inside, Zoro found it incredibly funny to watch the orange haired girl scramble around all frustrated like this.

“Gecko Islands,” said Nami, drawing Zoro out of his thoughts. She was hunched over her map with Luffy over her shoulder, per usual. “I think we’ll be able to make it before the ship sinks.”

Those words took longer to process than they should’ve, but Zoro couldn’t help it. Gecko Islands? How long had it been, three years maybe? No longer than that, he was sure. His eyes went unfocused at the memory of a laugh that could easily end him and bring him back to life all at once.

“Swear it to me.”

“I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

Nami nodded to herself, saying, “Syrup Village is known for its ships. I say we dock there and ditch this junk.”

He couldn’t believe that luck. Zoro’s lips threatened to quirk into a grin before he got a hold of himself. He rested his hand on his swords and snuffed. “I’ve got a friend in Syrup Village who could help us.”

Nami took off her readers and rolled up her map. “You have friends?”

He shot her a tight smirk. “Just one.”

“And he can help us?” asked Luffy as he took to the ship’s helm.

“She might.” Zoro checked on a knot here and a rope there. With his back to his temporary crew, he let out a small smile. “If she’s happy to see me.”

A surprised grin took Nami's face. “And if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” he assured, only half certain, if he was being honest.

It'd been three years since his promise, after all. Whatever happened next, Zoro could only be certain of one thing: oh, how he missed you.

#zoro #zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece live action sanji #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader

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trashy-tries-writing · 1 year

Photo

Part 1: In which the first encounter of Ravine leaves unpleasant or pleasant memories for some of our CoD characters with John Price / Gaz Kyle Garrick / Simon Ghost Riley

Part 2: John Soap MacTavish / König

Part 3: with Phillip Graves / Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo Rudy Parra

(Totally didn’t cloud his head because I can’t draw his customized helmet)

Warning: I know nothing about the military and stuff😭

If I wrote smt that the characters wouldn’t say, please correct me because I don’t know any slang from their nationalities either or point out any mistakes I have made. LET ME KNOW please! So I can fix them. 😰 I’m not a great writer, especially because I live under a rock so don’t expect too much. Feel free to bash me in the comments if I use a bad/forbidden word from your country, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose🙏💦

Let me know if Ravine passes as a xMale!Reader or a xMale!OC :’))

John Price

Price wanted to leave this hellish place as soon as possible

It was uncomfortably hot that he believed his flesh was oozing down his bones. No one knew what caused this overwhelming heat and the man wasn’t exactly ecstatic to find it out either with the scent of burned flesh hitting him hard on the nose.

Gradually the corpses of the enemy trope increased the deeper he went down the concealed facility. Price grimaces under his breath at the torched faces, skin tissues were burned off which showed the flesh underneath that was still bubbling and sizzling. The blackened chunks of flesh sitting on the ground continued to smolder while what leftover blood turns to steam as it spills from the wound.

Following his gut feeling, Price ends up in a corridor splattered with the blood of the victims he was supposed to spill. Including the objective of this mission, although the label wasn’t plastered on an unmoving, lifeless weapon that Price thought it would when Shepard sent him down in this hellhole.

“Bloody hell- Laswell, I… found the objective.”

The name was plastered on the door of the open cell with a human inside, sitting in front of a pile of corpses that looked like civilians. It- They- were motionless beside the immense heat reeking from its body which left more questions than answers for the bearded man.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Gaz believes Ravine to be a heartless machine.

He watched the masked man run past falling soldiers without wavering in his steps. No reaction as his teammates die before his eyes or struggle until their last breaths. Sees him leave the training room after finishing beating up everyone until exhaustion as they lay on the ground groaning.

Ravine doesn’t care about anything or anyone, and possibly not even himself. He takes orders after orders, sometimes requesting to solo it, as if a team would only drag him through the mud.

Gaz hears the whispers of hatred towards Ravine, how heartless and cold he is. How rude he is with how he answers with one word only. How unnerving it is to be in the room while he just stands there silently, not knowing where he is actually staring at through his helmet he never takes off.

Ravine doesn’t care about anything.

Gaz believed that Ravine was a heartless machine.

He saw Ravine running to the nearest corpse of their fallen brothers and sisters after the mission was done. The tall male scoops them up like broken glass, aloof at getting soiled or that there are special units to collect their bodies coming later. Ravine makes sure to leave no one behind and pile them together next to each other with their possessions as carefully as one could be, before paying his respects.

Gaz heard the heartless Ravine requesting to solo the missions when he deemed it to be too dangerous for the others as the higher ups know Ravine to be capable enough to do it on his own due to being different from any other existing soldiers, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Gaz noticed the soldier rushing back towards the training room with first aids, water, snacks and towels. He peeked inside to discover a relaxed atmosphere with the recruits chatting to each other tiredly, some drinking from their cup and gnawing on the energybar like hungry bears. They were sitting in a line and at the end was the cold Ravine giving them medical care.

The hateful whispers have turned into harmless jabs, whether it be about a new recruit being in trouble for something small as breaking a plate and pushing that soldier towards Ravine as if he was going to play alongside them.

His limited vocabulary was slowly picked up by them. Instead of saying “Yes”, some have started to respond with Ravine’s “Aye”s towards each other. Each time they couldn’t help grin when they see Ravine slouch even more than he already is from their jest.

“Fuck I’m hungry.” He hadn’t intended to say it so loudly, not that anyone was around to hear Gaz anyways. It was late and cold, he couldn’t wait to duck out and make something to eat and throw himself in bed.

But not even an hour later something warm touches his cheek from behind him and he jolts back in surprise from the warmth. He sees Ravine stepping back just as much, before hiding his body behind the corner, his upper part still sticking out with an arm stretched towards him with a bag.

“...Is that for me?”

“Aye.”

He slowly reaches towards the bag, a familiar smell reaching his nose. Gaz couldn’t help but smile when he opened the package with his favorite food and a thermos inside, his stomach growling loudly in urgency to take a bite.

Turning around to thank the man, his words are lost in his throat when the faceless soldier is nowhere to be seen.

Gaz believes that Ravine is a warm person who loves and cares in his own way.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost had been sent off to capture someone from a hideout. It was supposed to be easy but missions always go astray. What else he didn’t account for was the soldier sent by his superior to wipe them all out on the opposite side of the building. This wouldn’t have been a problem if the soldiers knew of each other’s existences.

One of them needed the target alive, the other came for a massacre.

When they crossed paths, shots were fired and when all bullets were gone, knives were raised. While It didn’t matter who died first, it would not end well with either loss. Weren’t it for the chain of commands voice ringing through both of their coms, the machete would have gone through his arm.

Ravine as Ghost came to know, backed away from him and kept that distance throughout the whole operation. Now that he got the go to kill everyone, the lieutenant saw how efficient the other was. No hesitation, no stumbling, no waiting- Ghost let the silent man do what he wanted, out of curiosity what he could do.

The lieutenant started trusting the newcomer more when Ravine jumped behind him without flinching and threw his chained machete at the enemy targeting his back. With a pull the weapon was back into his hands and his head whipped around,Ghost could mentally hear the snap.

His helmet moved in sharp, short turns at the lieutenant until he realized he was eyeing him for injuries beside the ones he himself inflicted on him a few minutes ago.

“All good Ravine. Let’s move.”

Back at their headquarters, Ghost would find little trinkets in front of the room he was currently occupying with a note stuck on it “I am very sorry for almost murdering you.” He knew immediately who this was from, especially since his ‘murderer’ in question has avoided him like the pest.

At first he thought nothing of it besides not liking him very much which happens anywhere in the workspace. But it got out of hand when Ghost came into the kitchen to get some tea and Ravine straight out jumped out the window.

It was the second floor.

Price had sighed into his palm so loudly, his soul could be seen leaving him. “I corner him and I want you to talk to him. He’s letting the guilt eat him up and I can’t let that happen.”

The captain literally shooed the tall man like a cat into his office with Ghost and held him by the collar of his turtleneck to keep him from leaving. For once Ravine stood at his full height and the lieutenant had to tilt his head up.

“Bloody hell…”

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justalonelyslytherin · 1 year

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Legacies | Eight

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: .Ana is left reeling and coping with her father's diagnosis while the mission draws ever nearer. Will she be able to concentrate on the mission? Or will there be another curve ball throwing her off her path?

Warnings: military inaccuracies, lots of swearing, almost/mentioned physical fight and violence, mentions of dying and being killed, mentions of parental death/parental loss

Wordcount: 3k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: This is a chapter I'm nervous about posting because you might hate me ^^'. Jake's an ass in this - which in my defense: I'm only using and enhancing what the movie provided us with. He'll also get his redemption & explanation of why he acts like that later on <;3

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

The menacing blare of the alarm rebounded in her ears even long after the actual noise had stopped. Yet the memory of it kept replaying in Ana’s mind over and over. She couldn’t shake it. Accompanying the noise were images of her simulation flight.

Her failure.

Because that’s how it had gone. She’d failed. Majorly. The curves had been too tight and her reactions just seconds too slow. There had been no other way but to swerve and dodge the oncoming – real – mountain she’d careened toward. In doing so she had crossed the mission's margin, climbing right into the SAMs radius.

She was angry at herself, mad she’d screwed it up so badly. Had it been only her attempt, she wouldn’t have minded it so much but she’d pulled Omaha and Halo into it as well. Which was so much worse.

And while Ana was sure sweet Bob and fierce but equally uplifting Phoenix would have told her that anyone before her had failed their run-through as well, she didn’t want to hear it.

Even worse than the feeling of failure had been Maverick’s look of disappointment. Ana barely managed to look at him. While he hadn’t said anything that he hadn’t told the other aviators too, it felt much more personal. She’d glimpsed it in his eyes, there had been this unmistakable look. Remembering it made her sick to her stomach.

Knowing no one had managed to even reach the end of the course without crashing into a simulated mountainside or crossing into the SAMs range should have been a comfort, had it been true. But it wasn’t and the debrief would only solidify this.

The group of aviators was filing into the classroom to take their seats. Ana slowly trudged along the gaggle of people, nowhere near paying attention. She felt weary with her shoulders hanging low, every other step careened dangerously outward to the side in an almost stumble.

If it had been only the training with its demanding parameters and exhausting conditions, she would have been able to stomach it but there was one more thing: Her father’s condition.

The news heavily weighed her down. She couldn’t help but worry and it was this incessant worrying that distracted her from the fast-approaching mission.

Her father seemed to have come to terms with his imminent passing but Ana had a hard time accepting that this would be the end. How was one supposed to be alright knowing their loved one’s time was limited and the end was rapidly approaching?

She could barely handle the thought. The news had thrown her into a deep and dark pit of despair, leaving her lost.

Surprise crossed her face and her head snapped up when a hand connected with the small of her back, gently guiding her forward and past the rows of chairs. Glancing to the side revealed none other than Jake steering her intently toward the first row. She let him lead her, her dragging feet slowly picking up speed to match his.

At the front row, he nudged her toward the chairs. Patiently Jake waited until she sat down in the aisle seat before he took the one beside her. He didn’t say anything, in fact, he didn’t even look at her anymore. She understood the gesture nevertheless. She was thankful for it.

While he was still Hangman, and he made sure she didn’t forget it during work, something between them had shifted.

He was the only one that knew. Not even Bradley knew and they were like siblings. She couldn’t tell Rooster and neither could she tell Maverick. They were too involved, too close. They couldn’t be thrown off their paths as well. At least they should be able to concentrate on the mission ahead.

Yet it still was a relief to have someone know. It made it easier to act like everything was alright in front of the others.

—

Maverick didn’t waste any time ripping into Rooster who had just finished his simulation run. Their run distinguished itself from the others in one detail. Even if Maverick was keen on ignoring it.

Harvard and Yale had accompanied him but nonetheless Maverick singled Bradley out.

“Why are you dead?” He asked Rooster as the young aviator sat up in his chair and looked straight ahead toward their instructor.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ana could see him build himself up, ready to take on everything that Maverick would throw in his face. She hoped they wouldn’t goad each other up again as they had done during the dogfight.

“You are team leader up there. Why are you– why is your team dead?”

It wasn’t Rooster that spoke up but Phoenix. She sat beside Ana on the opposite side of the center aisle. Most of the aviators had been sitting passively in their chairs, waiting for Maverick’s rant to pass and so had she done it. But now, with her fist previously hiding her frown the dark-haired female aviator couldn’t stay still anymore.

“Sir, he’s the only one who made it to target.”

And this was the one detail that distinguished Rooster from all the other aviators gathered in the room. He had reached the end of their simulation. He had reached their target.

“A minute late,” Maverick noted with a sigh, biting on no less harshly than before, “He gave enemy aircraft time to shoot him down. He is dead.”

Ana knew why her godfather critiqued him so harshly. The mission was dangerous as it is, risking a confrontation with enemy aircraft was something they couldn’t afford. No matter what had happened between them, Maverick still cared for Rooster. Perhaps even more so because of what happened.

“You don’t know that.”

Rooster couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see that Mavericks' much harsher treatment towards him wasn’t because of any ill feelings from their instructor but because of his incessant need to keep him safe. Bradley would never want it, he would never allow Maverick to protect him – not after what had happened – but that wouldn’t stop their superior from trying to do so either way.

“You’re not flying fast enough,” Hangman sounded condescending as he butted in, barely glancing at Rooster one row behind Phoenix.

It was a quick defiant look, one that cemented itself on Rooster’s face as he turned back to Maverick and reiterated,

“We made it to the target.” It was a clear dig, a bone thrown out for the feral dog.

And Maverick took it without hesitancy. He was slowly getting fed up, perhaps it was the intense need to keep Bradley safe that spurred him on. Taking a step toward the aviators, he leaned forward. His stern look centered on Rooster alone.

“And superior enemy aircraft intercepted you on your way out.”

There was no way Rooster would be backing down. Ana realized how quickly this was leading up to another fight between the two. One that was far more personal than the discussion of the flight simulation. There was a heavy insinuation underlining their words.

“Then it’s a dogfight.” Rooster blew the last straw to crush Maverick’s composure.

“Against fifth-generation fighters!”

"Yeah. We’d still have a chance.” It surprised Ana how relaxed Rooster’s words were. She knew that behind his laid-back attitude, his insides were bubbling with hurt and anger.

Able to feel the tension having almost reached its peak between the duo the other aviators in the room looked away, uncomfortable with the situation at hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Phoenix pursing her lips as she looked down to avoid the men’s argument she was pinned between.

“In an F-18,” Maverick’s voice was full of skepticism, and without knowing he had raised his voice. Rooster followed, his voice growing in volume and bite.

“It’s not the plane, sir, it’s the pilot.” Ana closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as much as she could. She knew where this was heading and she dreaded all of it.

“Exactly.”

Maverick’s single word rebounded through the room, suddenly cloaked in silence. Everyone held their breaths.

Now the bomb had been dropped. The damage was done and irreversible.

“There’s more than one way to fly this mission.”

It was a weak attempt of Rooster to have the last word. Maverick’s assertion had him, judging from the distinct waiver of his voice that made Ana’s heart clench. She hurt for both of them, she hurt for them hurting – and they definitely were, as their faces were barely hiding the guilt and hurt. She felt powerless to change the outcome or their stances. From the beginning, there had been nothing she could have done to aid them in conciliating, even if she longed for the ability to do so.

“You really don’t get it.”

Her eyes jumped to the other side. Jake was looking forward neither toward Rooster nor Maverick. He sounded relaxed like the tension in the air didn’t affect him at all.

“Jake,” was her warning for him to not get involved and make it worse.

“On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here or a man does not come back.” Now he eyed Maverick. Silently Jake took in the guilt-stricken face of their instructor. Did he enjoy it?

Just like Ana, Jake knew there was more to this than the discussion of technique applied to the mission. It was so much more than that.

To diffuse the moment, or to add more fuel to the already stoked fire, Jake turned towards Phoenix, “No offense intended.”

Bob, who sat beside Phoenix and consequently peered behind her to glare at the blonde, murmured with an acidity Ana had never heard from the otherwise shy and quiet aviator, “Yet somehow you always manage.”

Her heartbeat picked up as everything loomed to spin out of control. Jake’s lips quipped upwards as he turned to her, no not to her, to Rooster.

“Jake.” Once more Ana hoped to stop him, to get him to focus on her instead of adding insult to the situation. And once more her attempt fell on deaf ears.

“Look, I don’t mean to criticize. You’re conservative, that’s all.” Ana glanced towards Maverick, hoping he would be able to stop the blonde. But her godfather had his eyes cast toward the ground.

“Lieutenant,” with a weary sigh he looked up. But Jake didn’t listen even to their instructor at that moment.

“We’re going into combat, son, on a level no livin’ pilot’s ever seen,” now he looked back, directly at Maverick and added, “Not even him.”

Maverick looked at Jake both surprised and caught off guard by the direct hit of the young pilot.

“That’s no time to be thinking about the past.”

Ana’s blood ran cold. A chill crept over her back as her head snapped towards Hangman at her side. There was a deep etched frown on her face as she eyed him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“Don’t do this,” Ana pleaded – begged? – for him to stop, her fingers dug into the plush armrests of the chair.

He wouldn’t listen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rooster,” Maverick, sensing where this was going to go, tried to pull Rooster’s attention back on him.

“I can’t be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man.” Ana sat up straighter in her chair. A cold feeling of dread washed over her. She knew exactly what Hangman was playing at, what he was about to do – to say.

“That’s enough–” It was one more fickle attempt by Maverick to stop the inevitable.

“–or that Maverick was flying when his old man–” before Hangman could finish the sentence Rooster had sprung from his chair and charged across the room.

Chaos broke out in the room, clamoring and shouts filled the space as everyone raced to go in between the two men. In a matter of seconds, everyone had clumped around the two, multiple hands were pulling Rooster back as he was seething.

“Lieutenant, that's enough. Hey!” Maverick shouted over everyone, as their frantic voices had mixed into an indistinguishable mess. Rooster was hellbent on ripping himself free and physically fighting Hangman. He could be barely stopped.

Ana had never seen the man this crazed and out of his mind. It unsettled her as she practically stood between the two fractions. Sitting before Hangman, closer to the middle aisle, she’d put herself between the two of them upon standing up. Now she had one hand firmly pressed against Hangman’s chest to keep him back and out of reach and one hand stretched out towards Rooster.

“Bradley!” Even her voice couldn’t carry through to him, no matter how alarmed and warning she sounded, he was too blindsided by his rage.

“You son of a bitch!” His enraged shout trumped over them all. While Bradley was out for blood, Hangman on the other hand was calm as one could be.

He shrugged off the multiple hands on him with a simple, “I’m cool, I’m cool. Hey.” All except for Ana’s hand. She was quicker than him in slapping his hand away and followed the motion up with a hard shove against his sternum.

“That’s enough,” Maverick demanded, still mostly concentrating on Rooster. Ana kept glaring at Hangman. He didn’t spare her even one glance. She was fuming, silently willing him to finally keep quiet but of course he couldn’t.

“He’s not cut out for this mission.” With that Hangman pulled everyone’s attention back towards him, just as Rooster seemed to have calmed down enough to not jump the blonde any moment.

“And neither are you.” Ana’s cold, shaky words cut through the air. “You are even less cut out for the mission,” she jabbed, taking a step closer to the blonde. Her finger bore square into his chest.

“You have no concept of teamwork. You don’t know how to play nice or work together with someone. How the hell do you think you are anywhere close to being cut out for this mission when you could be the reason all of us wouldn’t make it back.

Leaving your team behind is as bad as being too hesitant.

I’m not going to watch you kill yourself up there because you can’t work with someone else for once.

Nor am I going to watch you be the reason one of us won’t make it back home.”

The words poured out of her one after another, each sentence more stinging, more personal, and more damaging. Hangman’s facade was a strong one but his eyes betrayed him. Too bad that in her own whirling, burning rage Ana couldn’t see. The hurt that flashed through his eyes, the quick breakthrough of Jake was entirely unnoticed by her. Much like the other aviator's reactions all around her.

Barely having said the last words and with her chest still heaving from both the exertion and the adrenaline of the moment, she turned around. There was not one person that didn’t step out of her path as she stormed off, down the middle aisle and right out of the room.

As if nothing happened just now, Hangman acted indifferent as he stepped forward.

“You know I’m right.”

His focus shifted only briefly to Maverick before he eyed up Rooster once more. Stepping nose to nose with the brown-haired male Hangman slipped past, waltzing out of the classroom in a much more relaxed way.

Neither Ana nor Hangman were left when Maverick dismissed the rest of the group.

Ana was on her way storming through the hallway, less angry but still fuming. Her boots thudded against the floor in quick succession. She couldn’t put enough distance between herself and the classroom fast enough. Unbeknownst to her, Hangman was in close pursuit, quickly catching up to her breezing through the halls.

“Ghost.” His voice was like an electric current shooting through her. A thousand tiny knives nicked her skin, agitating her further.

“Ana!” She’d never heard him call her by her name before. Now it sounded urgent and too close for her comfort.

In a matter of seconds, a hand wrapped around her biceps and pulled her back. Her back collided with the wall with a soft thud. Before she could even react, Hangman had caged her in with his arms, looming over her. He was so close that their noses nearly touched.

“Fuck off,” she hissed between bared teeth, glaring at him with as much venom as she could. He wouldn’t budge.

“You are lower than the lowest scum, do you know that? Bringing this up and using it against him! How dare you?”

“I only stated facts.” The calm, stern way in which he spoke with her frustrated her. There was the cold, emotionless mask that was Hangman. He was guarded and entirely closed off.

“Yeah, right,” Ana scoffed.

“He wasn’t ready and you know it too.”

“Just like everyone else! None of us are ready for this mission and yet Rooster still has the best shot at surviving the flight to the target. And it gives you no reason to bring up their past!”

“It does if–”

“–Oh cut the crap, Hangman. I don’t want to hear it!” She didn’t want to hear his excuses and even less so his twisted explanations. What could make him think it was okay to say something like that? Done listening to him and even more so done with being in his proximity, Ana shoved him off her. Hangman went pliantly, his feet shuffled backward as she freed herself from the corner he’d created with his body.

She glared at him furiously once more, her intensity beginning to fray at the edges. Finding herself locked in a staredown with Hangman, the tension felt higher than even before in the room. Scoffing one last time Ana shook her head and ultimately turned around to march off down the corridor.

There was nothing that could turn the situation around at that moment. Nothing could make it better. The best way was to create distance. Between her and him.

Hangman remained standing in the hallway, hands balled into fists and face twisted into an angry sneer.

“Damnit,” he roared, punching the wall beside him. His muscles were tense as he ground his teeth together.

“It does count if it is what holds them back and distracts them from the mission.”

#legacies #hangman x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x oc #hangman x reader #jake seresin x kazansky!oc #jake seresin x kazansky!reader #hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #top gun maverick fanfiction

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karahalloway · 10 months

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Uncharted: Tales from the Gypsea - Surf's Up!

Fandom: TRR

Series: Uncharted: Tales from the Gypsea

Pairing: Drake Walker x Harper Gale (F!OC)

Synopsis: While on their honeymoon, Harper takes Drake out of his comfort zone with an unexpected birthday surprise...

Word Count: 5,000 (which is about 3,000 words longer than anticipated, but H&D always run away from me, so here we are 😅)

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing in multiple languages, a few lemon-scented moments, extreme sports)

A/N1: So… this was not what I was supposed to be working on… 😅 But when @petiteboheme sent me a video of Bruno Santos (my FC for Drake) trying hydroboarding (also known as jetblading) for the first time, and demanding that I write a version featuring Drake and Harper, I couldn’t say ‘no’. And since (a) it's the summer, and (b) I haven't written a birthday fic for Drake this year yet, I instantly got a brainwave and dove right in! Hope you enjoy!

A/N2: As mentioned in the Author’s Notes for this series, this fic takes place during Harper and Drake's honeymoon. I HC that Drake’s birthday falls on June 6th, so this mini-adventure would take place approx. midway through the trip.

A/N3: This fic ended up featuring quite a lot of Italian, so as per usual, translations below. I also have a few other general notes at then end.

A/N4: This is also my submission for @choicesjunechallenge, prompts Summer, Vacation, Surf, Beach, Love.

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head," I murmur softly, feathering kisses along the side of Drake's neck.

He groans under his breath, pulling himself out of the depths of slumber with some difficulty. "That's my line, Gale."

"Well, I'm stealing it," I reply impishly, leaning over him to catch his lips with mine. "Especially since I'm up before you for once."

"Obviously, I didn't do a good enough job last night," he grumbles against my mouth, even as he snakes his hand onto my backside to pull my naked body on top of his.

"Oh, don't worry — you did," I assure him, dropping tiny kisses down his chest. "Just like the night before..." My teeth graze his abs. "And the night before that..."

A low sound rattles his throat as I move lower. "The circumstantial evidence indicates otherwise..."

"I needed a way to grab your attention," I tell him sweetly, pausing just above the much more pronounced tan line that circled his hips.

"Oh, you most certainly got it," he confirms, all vestiges of sleep now banished from his countenance as he looks down at me hungrily.

"Good," I declare, drawing myself back up to his eye-level. "Because I have something for you."

"Oh, yeah?" he smirks with a cocked brow, running his palms up my bare thighs in anticipation.

"Yup," I affirm, leaning over him to reach into the recess on the wall behind the bed.

His eyes widen as I pull out the rectangular-shaped item wrapped in Marvel superhero logo emblazoned wrapping paper. "Wait. You didn't—"

"Happy birthday!" I pronounce, holding the present out to him triumphantly.

He greets my offering with a seriously unimpressed glare. "Gale, I told you that—"

"—you don't want any presents, I shouldn't make a big deal out of it, we're on our honeymoon, blah-blah-blah." I fix him with a deadpan look. "Well, guess what, bud? You don't have a choice. Because I want to celebrate the day you were born."

He scoffs. "Oh, so my birthday's all about you, huh?"

"No," I counter. "It's all about you. And I think I did a pretty good job last year. So, how 'bout you trust me for a change?"

He heaves a beleaguered breath. "Can't we just—?"

"Nope!" I interject, thrusting the parcel into his face.

He rolls his eyes as he finally takes the present. "The things I do for you, girl..."

"Don't you mean the things I do for you?" I counter meaningfully.

He hits me with level look as he scoots himself into a sitting position. "We could both be doing each other right now if—"

"Oh, my God, you're impossible!" I cry exasperatedly, even as I fail to suppress a snort of amusement. "Just open it already!"

"Maybe I like the anticipation..."

I smack him on the chest.

"Christ, I married a bullbat!" he huffs.

"Who you love unconditionally," I remind him. "So, I know you'll love this."

He quirks a sceptical brow as he finds the edge of the folded paper and starts to peel it open. "You sound damn sure of yourself..."

"I have reason to be confident," I say, folding my arms with a wink.

He shakes his head at me as he finishes opening his present. But I can see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

The last of the wrapping paper falls away, and he frowns. "You got me... a photo frame?"

"Turn it over," I prompt, trying to contain the butterflies flapping around in my stomach.

He’s gonna like it — I’m sure of it. But... there's always a tiny part of you that insists on throwing all the worst-case scenarios at you, making you doubt yourself.

He flips the frame over...

...and silence falls on the cabin as his expression goes blank.

I bite my bottom lip, waiting for him to say something, to react in some kind of way, but he is as immobile as a statue, giving no indication of his state of mind.

Finally, I can't take it any more. "Do you—?"

"When did you do this?" he demands hoarsely.

"When we were last in port," I tell him. "I went to that pharmacy t—"

"But we don't have the pictures from the wedding yet," he cuts in, voice still tight.

"You mean, you don't have the pictures from the wedding yet," I grin. "I asked Max to put a rush on that one so it would be ready for your birthday."

"Christ, Harper," he breathes, eyes brimming with sudden emotion as he pulls me into him. "Remind me never to play poker with you..."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I say, wrapping my arms around him. "So, does that mean I managed to surprise you?"

"Every goddamn day," he says into my hair, squeezing me tight. "'Cause the fact that you're here with me at all is still pretty un-fuckin'-believeable..."

"Well, you did put a ring on it, so..." I waggle the fingers of my left hand at him.

He smacks me on the ass. "You know what I mean..."

I snort into his neck.

"But seriously," he says, pushing me back up so we were face-to-face again. "I love it. I honestly didn't even realise we had any pictures of us... let alone so many."

"Sometimes you gotta capture that moment in between," I tell him with a coy shrug.

His expression cracks. "God, I love you..."

Yanking me to down, his lips claim mine in a passionate, searing kiss that is dizzying in its intensity.

I sigh happily, melting against him.

And even though I would've loved nothing more than to lose myself in him, out here, in the middle of the ocean, for the umpteenth time since the start of this trip, our love-making’s going to have to wait.

Because today calls for a very different kind of celebration.

So, before Drake has a chance to pull us both into what’s — very clearly! — his preferred form of revelment, I break off the kiss.

His eyes snap open to meet mine. "Gale, what are you—?"

"No rest for the wicked, cowboy," I declare, jumping off him. "It's your 28th birthday and we have things to do, and places to be!"

His face drains of colour. "Sweet fuckin' Jesus, girl... You didn't organise a party, did you?"

I choke back a laugh at the sight of the sheer horror in his eyes. "You really think I'd do that to you, Walker?"

"Well, you clearly have no compunction 'bout leaving a man high and dry on his birthday," he objects sourly, gesturing at his arousal that’s now flying very much at full mast. "So, apparently anything goes."

"Don't worry," I assure him, pausing in the doorway to the bathroom. "There's no party. But we are running behind schedule, so you need to get your butt out of bed and move the boat, Cap'n."

"She's a 37-foot sailing yacht..." he grumbles, running his hand down his face, "not a—"

"Chop-chop, Walker!" I prompt, disappearing into the bathroom with a clap of my hands. "Nobody's gettin' any younger here!"

He flops back onto the pillows with a pained groan. "Christ alive..."

"So?" I ask an hour or so later around a mouthful of Eggs Benedict, sitting on the patio of an unassuming little bistro in St. Julian's, on the island of Malta. "Did I pick well?"

Drake spears the last of his own breakfast. "See or hear any complaints?"

"Worth getting out of bed for?"

He quirks a brow at me as he settles back into his chair. "Now that might be a stretch..."

I punt him under the table.

"Hey," he objects, dodging out of the way. "I said it was good. But would I trade the chicken and waffles for an extra hour in bed with you? Every time."

"Hmm..." I say, stirring the remainder of my freshly squeezed orange juice with my straw. "Sounds like I need to try harder next time."

He meets my eye over the rim of his coffee cup. "You can try... But you've set a damn high bar for yourself, girl."

I click my tongue as I set the glass back onto the table. "Well, the day isn't over yet, cowboy. I may still be able to surpass myself."

"Tough odds, Gale," he assures me with a smirk. "Tough odds."

"How was everything?" asks the sever, appearing to clear our plates away.

"Really good!" I say. "I'm stuffed!"

"And you, sir?"

"It hit the spot," Drake acknowledges, flicking a contented look my way.

"Glad to hear!" the server replies as she stacks the empty crockery together. "Can I get you another refill, or—?"

"Just the bill, please," I interject, reaching for my purse. "We're running a bit late."

"No problem," she replies. "I'll print it off right away. Cash or card?"

"Car—"

"Cash," interjects Drake, holding some Euros out. "And you can keep the change."

I whirl on him in bewilderment. "But—"

"Th-thanks," stammers the server, clearly surprised by the size of the tip Drake has just given her. "Did you still want the receipt?"

"Nah, we're good," advises Drake, pushing his chair back. "The wife says we're running late, so that means we're running late."

"Okay, I won't keep you then! Have a good rest of your day!"

"But—" I try again, but the server has already stuffed the cash into her apron and turned away.

"Up-and-at-'em, Gale," prompts Drake, holding his hand out. "You said we gotta get moving so—"

"But, I was going to pay for breakfast!" I object, grabbing my bag and taking his proffered assistance to help me stand.

"Well, I beat you to it," he shrugs, looping his fingers through mine as he navigates us through the labyrinth of tables that dotted the bistro's patio. "Plus, you'd've been shafted on the bank charges and the exchange rate, so—"

"But it's your birthday!" I press. "I wanted to treat you for a change!"

"Trust me, you did," he assures me with a smile, giving my hand a squeeze. "You found a place in the Med that does chicken and waffles for breakfast. If that's not a treat, I dunno what is."

I feel myself blush under the sincerity of his gaze. "So, you did like it."

"'Course I did," he affirms, twirling me to a stop in front of him. "Even if I had to eat dirt for breakfast, I'd enjoy it if I got to do it with you. You're the silver lining around everything, mon coeur."

I feel my throat tighten as I gaze up at him. "Drake..."

"And the money?" He reaches up to stroke my face with a nonchalant shrug. "That's all relative. We're married now, so what's mine is yours and vice-versa. There's no need to keep tabs on who pays for what and when."

I'm suddenly powerless in the face of his caress. "If you say so, Mr. Walker."

"It's my birthday," he confirms, cupping my face in his hands. "So, I do say so... Mrs. Gale-Walker."

Leaning in, he tilts my chin up. My eyes shudder closed as his lips meet mine softly, tenderly, like a lapping wave kissing the shoreline. But with each surge, that wave crests in size and strength until it becomes a riptide of passion that threatens to swallow us completely.

"Christ, I'll never get tired of saying that," he breathes between one inrush and the next.

"It was... definitely a hard... fought accomplishment," I agree haltingly, gripping his hair in an effort to keep myself from being swept away by his sudden fervour.

He swallows a groan as my body arcs into his. "All the more reason...to celebrate the crap out of it."

My eyes snap open. "Celebrate...! Shit! We're late for your—"

"Screw that," he growls, tightening his hold on me. "I'm takin' you back to the boat."

"Thought it was... a sailing yacht," I gasp as he underscores his intent by pulling me flush against the hardness of his body.

"Not the point," he replies dismissively, scrunching the material of my romper between his fingers as his stubble brushes the shell of my ear. "'Cause I'm still gonna fuck you over every inch of the deck."

"After!" I tell him, distracting him with a kiss on his cheek as I spin out of his grasp.

His head drops back to stare up at the sky. "Putain de bordel de—"

"Come on!" I shout over my shoulder at him, already pegging it down towards the marina.

He grumbles something testily under his breath before reluctantly obliging.

Dodging around locals and tourists, we manage to make it down to the bottom of the hill where the island gave way to Spinola Bay just as the various clock-towers around the city begin to toll the hour.

"Crap!" I exclaim, throwing my head around as I try to speed-read the various signs suspended over the promenade. "Which one is it?"

Drake comes to a stop next to me. "Gale, what are y—?"

"There it is!" I cry, grabbing his hand to haul him after me.

"Sweet Jesus, girl!" he huffs. "Will you just—?"

He cusses again as he very nearly avoids running me over as I suddenly pull us up in front of a squat building.

"Ta-da!" I exclaim, throwing my arm dramatically out at the black-and-red façade of the water sports rental place that we just arrived at.

"Okay...?" he says hesitantly, eyeing the store front dubiously. "And we're here because...?"

"You'll see!" I proclaim, pulling him into the minuscule space inside the door.

"Oh, for fuck's s—!"

The two guys manning the counter look up at the sound of our whirlwind arrival.

Laying eyes on me, both of their faces break into that trademark Mediterranean smile I've found myself on the receiving end of more times than I could count since the start of this trip.

"Ciao, bella!" cries one by way of greeting, stepping out from behind the counter. "Can we help you?"

"Ciao, yes. I'm Harper," I say, holding my hand out. "I spoke to one of you on the phone yesterday?"

The guy's eyes light up as he grabs my hand eagerly. "Ah, sì! Harper! I remember!" Bending down, he lays an enthusiastic kiss on my knuckles. "You spoke to me! I'm Mario."

I nod in affirmation. "Yes, I—"

"And this is my brother, Luca!" continues Mario with typical Italian excitement, throwing a hand on the other guy's shoulder to yank him into my eye-line.

"Come stai?" he asks, grabbing my hand out of his brothers grasp to drop a loud smooch on it as well.

"Sto bene, grazie," I reply graciously.

Mario and Luca stare at me in bewilderment before simultaneously lighting up in wonder. "Ah! Sorprendente! Parla italiano? Hai un così bell'accento! Tu che sembri—"

"And, this is Drake," I add in English, somewhat apologetically, having exhausted my limited Italian. "My husband."

The brothers' faces fall. "Ah. Piacere."

Drake nods passively in reply.

"So... you, ah, wanted to have Full Flight experience?" asks Mario, clearing his throat as he resumes his place behind the counter.

"Yes," I respond, digging into my bag for my phone. "The 30 minute package. I have the confirmation email, if—"

"No, no!" interjects Mario with a wave of his hand as he clicks the Apple desktop screen to life. "I have you in system already. And you paid full amount yesterday, so you only need to sign waiver before start of your lesson."

"Great!" I say, dropping my phone back into the bag's pocket as Luca hands me a double sided piece of paper. "You have a pen?"

Two sets of biros are thrust instant in my direction.

"Thanks," I say bemusedly.

Turning back to Drake, I see him looking at me with a raised brow.

"Full flight experience, Gale?" he asks dryly. "We signing our life away to go parasailing or something?"

"Nope," I reply, passing him the waiver and the pen with a grin. "Just you. Because you're about to go hydroboarding."

His eyes snap up to mine. "Hydro-what-now?"

"Hydroboarding," I repeat. "Also known as jet-blading. Think Iron Man thrusters on your feet, but powered by water instead of... whatever it is that powers Iron Man's thrusters."

"Repulsors," he supplies dryly as he scans the waiver. "And you thought this was a good idea because...?"

"Because it's your birthday and I wanted to surprise you with something that you haven't tried before and therefore wouldn't be expecting!"

"Well, you certainly managed to score on both of those fronts," he mutters, scribbling his details on the form.

I lean into him seductively. "I told you I'd be able to surpass myself."

He glances up from the page. "Don't jump the gun, baby. I'm not out on the water yet."

"Like I said this morning," I purr against his ear. "I have reason to feel confident."

A low growl rumbles in his throat as he dashes his signature on the form.

"Bene!" cries Mario, snatching the waiver away. "If you follow Luca to the back, he will give you helmet and wetsuit in your size."

"Wetsuit?" queries Drake, dropping the pen on the counter. "Seriously?"

"All part of the package, darling," I tell him with a pat on his back as we file after Luca.

Drake groans audibly. "You're walking a fine line, girl..."

"You know me, Walker..." I smirk. "I'm all about the high-octane thrills!"

"Good," he says, throwing me a heated look over his shoulder. "Because when we get back to the yacht, I'm still plannin' on taking you all the way to cloud nine."

I meet his eye. "That a promise?"

His mouth pulls into a cocky grin. "It's a gold-plated guarantee."

"So, this is equipment room," declares Luca, coming to a stop in the middle of a tightly packed space that was filled to the brim with various pieces of water-sporting gear. "We have helmets, wetsuits, life jackets in all sizes. You look like you're a pretty fit guy so—"

"La mia taglia la so," interjects Drake, striding over to a rack of wetsuits.

Luca's eyes widen.

"He's been diving before," I say by way of explanation.

"Noto," comes the po-faced acknowledgment as Drake rifles critically through the options. "And I see now where you learn to speak Italian."

"Learning," I correct. "It's a bit of a slow process."

"Salvagente?" asks Drake, turning back to the room with his selection.

Luca indicates towards the far wall.

Crossing the floor, Drake quickly picks out a life jacket, and a helmet as well.

"Lo spogliatoio è laggiù," advises Luca, pointing to a haphazardly hung curtain in the corner.

"Grazie," nods Drake, carrying his armload of stuff over.

"Do you... need me to hold onto anything?" I ask.

"Nah, I'm good," he replies, stepping behind the curtain. "Be out in a minute."

"Okay."

"So, you come to Malta for holiday?" asks Luca inquisitively, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of having to wait in silence.

"Honeymoon," I reply, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Ahh!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up into the air. "Congratulazioni! Your husband is very lucky guy!"

"Thanks," I say with a simile. "I feel the same way about him."

"How you two meet?"

"Erm... it's a bit of a long story, but we met in New York."

"Ah, sì! New York!" he nods enthusiastically. "The Big Melon!"

I frown. "Normally it's called the Big Apple, but—"

The sound of metal rings jingling on the curtain pole draw my attention.

Turning my head, I see Drake step out from the changing area and I can't help but snort.

He quirks a brow as he adjusts the chin strap on his helmet. "Somethin' funny, Gale?"

"No," I say, trying to recollect my composure. "I... I've just never seen you with so much gear on."

"Well, it's a bit overkill, if you ask me," he declares, grabbing his clothes and shoes from the floor.

"You do look ready for some serious spelunking..."

"Let me guess?" he drawls, handing me his stuff. "That's my birthday present for next year?"

I swallow down another snort as I drop his things in my tote. "Do you want it to be?"

His mocha eyes meet mine. "Only if you're coming with me."

"You got yourself a deal, cowboy," I say with a grin, pushing myself up on my toes to give him a kiss. "Now go live it up as Iron Man."

"Whatever you say, Miss Potts," he smirks with a wink, giving my backside a clandestine squeeze before turning to Luca. "Quindi cosa dopo?"

"Suegitemi," he prompts, heading back to the front of the store.

"Y'know," whispers Drake into my ear as we follow after Luca, "it's not too late for you to ditch that romper and get gussied up too."

"Nice try, Walker," I laugh. "But like I said — this day is all about you, so I'm more than happy to sit this one out so I can capture your escapades on film."

"Fine," he grumbles. "But I'm gettin' my own back for your birthday."

"I expect nothing less," I grin as Luca leads us out onto the jetty, where Mario is already waiting for us.

"Ah! Bellissimo!" he enthuses upon our approach. But his face suddenly falls as his eyes land on me. "Harper! You change your mind? You don't want to go flying?"

"Oh, no," I say with a chuckle. "This was a surprise for Drake."

"Ahh!" nods Mario in understanding. "You want to use husband as hamster first. Smart lady!"

"Actually—"

But Mario has already turned his attention onto his student. "So. Mr Drake. Like English pirate, yes?"

"Era un corsaro, non un pirata," replies Drake.

"Ah-ha!" exclaims Mario, clapping Drake on the shoulder. "So, it is you who are the secret Italian! But why English name?"

"Perché sono mezzo americano," explains Drake. "Ma mia madre è di Cordonia e anche io sono cresciuto lì."

"Ah, sì... Cordonia," muses Mario. "Bel paese. Belle donne."

As Drake continues conversing with the brothers in their native language, I take the opportunity to slip my phone out of my bag and take some pictures of the three of them, as well as the sparkling bay behind us.

Malta had not been on the list of destinations for this trip, but it had been the only place that offered hydroboarding. So, when it had popped up as an option during my online hunt for birthday surprises for Drake, I’d know I I had to convince him to make the detour south.

And honestly? It hasbeen worth it. The little island was a true jewel of the Mediterranean with craggy limestone cliffs plunging into azure-blue bays so clear you could see to the bottom, while the small towns that dotted the coast literally made you feel like you stepped back in time as you wandered the meandering cobblestone streets lined with imposing baroque buildings.

Stowing my phone away, I turn back to the men and see that they are now in the process of showing Drake how to use the hydroboard, which really does look like the wayward parts of Tony Stark's suit. And while I can’t understand any of the fast-paced Italian, I’m able to pick up the general gist from the non-verbal parts of the demo: dip your toes down to go forwards, straighten back up to stop or rise higher, and lean to the side to turn.

Drake is nodding along intently, dropping a few questions here and there, but before long, Luca is strapping the device to his feet, and latching on the tube that would supply the water to the thrusters via the jet ski's propulsion system.

"All set?" I ask as he prepares to drop into the water.

"We're about to find out," he replies while Luca helps lower him off the pier.

"Have fun!" I call down to him.

"Harper!"

I snap my head up at the sound of my name.

Mario beckoning to me from atop his jet ski. "Jump on! Capitano Drake said you wanted to take pictures — best spot is from the water."

"But I'm not dressed for swimming," I say, gesturing at my romper.

"Don't worry!" he laughs. "I promised your husband I will take good care of you. You won't fall in."

"Okay, sure!" I nod with a grin, slipping out of my sandals. Opening up my tote, I drop my shoes in and extract my phone before stowing the bag behind a large metal mooring post. Since it was just us out here, I figured our stuff would be safe for the 30 or so minutes while we were out on the water, especially since it looked like Luca would be staying on the jetty.

Quickly throwing my hair into a ponytail, I make my way over to Mario. Sitting down on the edge of the pier, Luca provides some assistance with manoeuvring me onto the back of the jet ski, given that I only really had one free hand.

Once I'm seated securely, Mario relays some instructions into the headset he’s wearing before slowly guiding the little vessel away from the jetty.

Glancing behind me, I see Drake's head bobbing above the water, but he quickly starts to ascend skywards.

"Get ready," advises Mario, revving the throttle higher as he spins the jet ski around so we’re facing back towards the shore.

Pulling up the camera app, I switch it to video mode and hit record just as Drake rises somewhat haphazardly out of the water.

"Oh, my God! That's so cool!" I exclaim, watching as the powerful jets under his feet propel him upwards until he's hovering about a foot above the water, arms thrown out as he tries to maintain his balance.

"Like magic, no?" grins Mario, watching Drake's efforts and making adjustments to the throttle speed accordingly.

"Definitely!" I enthuse, zooming in on Drake as he begins to move forwards.

"Balance is most important thing," calls Mario above the roar of the jets. "If you have strong balance you can—"

"Oh, no!" I cry as Drake suddenly loses the tentative hold in his equilibrium and tips in slow-motion back into the water.

"Everybody falls," Mario assures me as he helps Drake level out again before powering upwards once more with some further instructions into his headset. "But for first time, he is doing great job!"

"He's an amazing snowboarder," I say. "And he used to ski before that. I'm guessing both of those help."

"Sì, sì," nods Mario, keeping his gaze on his charge. "Skating, rollerblading, surfing — all these sports are good practice. Should we make him go higher?"

"Obviously!" I laugh, giving Drake a wave as he looks in our direction.

He gives a quick wave in response before focusing his attention back on the mechanics of his flight. Mario relays a few more instructions down the line and Drake throws us a thumbs up in response. A few false starts and a couple of jagged movements later, he's managed to draw a figure of eight out in front of us.

"Wow!" I gasp as he repeats the exercise again, this time with increased speed. "He's gotten the hang of that that quick!"

"He is natural," agrees Mario. "Before you know it, he will be competing in X-Games."

"Don't tell him that, because he definitely—!" I gasp as I catch sight of Drake again. "Holy crap!"

"Like I said — he is natural," replies Mario, watching Drake execute a tight 360 bent low over his board.

"Oh, God, I've created a monster..." I mutter sardonically under my breath as Drake flies out of the spin into a wide circle around us.

The rest of the session zooms by in a blur, and before I know it my phone’s battery is about to die and it's time to head back to shore.

"That was so amazing!" I exclaim as Luca helps me dismount the jet ski. "And I wasn't even the one flying!"

"You are welcome back anytime, Harper," says Mario with a grin as Luca takes my place on the back of the craft. "It was our pleasure!"

Grabbing my bag, I watch as the brothers head back to Drake and help him detach the hydroboard from his feet before shuttling it back to the jetty.

Drake makes the short swim back to the pier, and I'm there waiting for him as he climbs back onto dry land.

"So, what did you think?" I ask as he pulls himself up next to me, dripping water.

"Fuckin' awesome!" he declares, unclipping his helmet with a beaming smile. "The time went by so fast that I swear I was only out there for 5 minutes, tops."

"Well, my phone can attest to the fact that it was the full half hour," I assure him. "I got some good pics though!"

"Great! Can't wait to see! And you're definitely coming with me next time. You'd love it! It really is like flying!"

"Glad you had a good time, cowboy," I say, dropping a kiss in his salt-infused lips.

He wraps his arm around me, drenching me in the process. "I did. And I appreciate you pulling this together for me behind my back. You really didn't have to."

I smack him on the chest. "Of course I did! What kind of person would I be if I didn't surprise you with some kind of surprise on your birthday?"

"Well, you got me the other present already, so—"

"Nope!" I declare with a cheeky grin. "One present isn't enough. I gotta keep you in your toes, bud, remember?"

"You do, baby," he says with a warm look, pulling me to him. "Every single day. And I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Me neither," I assure him, fusing my lips with his. "Now, let's get back to the boat."

So, as promised, a few notes and translations below:

1. Food — I appreciate that chicken and waffles is very much an American dish, with strong ties to the Southern states. However, in the course of my research, I did actually find a bistro in St. Julian’s, in Malta, where they serve this for brunch, so I did not — in any way! — take any creative licenses with that part of the story 😇

2. Language — Malta is an interesting place from a language point of view. While the official language is Maltese (which is a Semitic language that developed from a dialect of Arabic in combination with Sicilian — no, I didn’t know this either!), Malta was a British colony for about 150 years, which means that most people are conversant in both languages. In addition, due to Malta’s proximity to Italy, along with the influence of the Sicilian dialect on the local language, many Maltese people can speak/understand Italian as well. That said, Mario and Luca are actually Italian transplants (rather than Maltese), which is why they speak Italian.

3. Translations — As mentioned in my other fics, I HC that Drake is fluent in both French and Italian. Here are the translations:

- Mon coeur: lit. ‘my heart’ but connotatively means ‘my love’

- Putain de bordel de— : For fuck's—

- Ciao, bella!: Hello, beautiful!

- Sì: Yes

- Come stai?: How are you (doing)?

- Sto bene, grazie: I’m doing well, thanks.

- Sorprendente! Parla italiano? Hai un così bell'accento! Tu che sembri— : Amazing! You speak Italian! You have such a beautiful accent! You sound like—

- Piacere: Pleasure (as in ‘pleasure to meet you’)

- Bene: Good/great

- La mia taglia la so: I know what size I am

- Noto: Noted / I see

- Salvagente: Life jacket

- Lo spogliatoio è laggiù: The changing room is over there

- Grazie: Thanks

- Congratulazioni: Congratulations

- Quindi cosa dopo?: What now?

- Suegitemi: Follow me

- Bellissimo: Beautiful

- Era un corsaro, non un pirata: He was a privateer, not a pirate

- Perché sono mezzo americano. Ma mia madre è di Cordonia e anche io sono cresciuto lì: Because I am half-American. My mother is from Cordonia and I also grew up there.

- Ah, sì... Cordonia. Bel paese. Belle donne: Ah, yes… Cordonia. Beautiful country. Beautiful women.

*Big Melon: So, while looking for a translation of Big Apple, I learnt that in Italian, apple = mela, which I thought looked and sounded surprisingly similar to melon (melone), hence the small linguistic in-joke. Similar case of lost in translation with Guinea pig vs hamster. I know, I’m sad… ignore me 😆

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Picture credits:

Hydroboarding - Harper - Drake - Malta

#surf's up!#harper gale #drake walker #drake x harper #the royal romance #uncharted #h&d honeymoon #tales from the gypsea #drake walker appreciation

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