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dreamersparacosm · 1 year

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austin butler - clumsy

warnings ; none

prompt ; in which your celebrity crush causes you to become a flustered, blubbering mess.

a/n ; a little something fun i wrote during the fall but never published! it’s basically anxious!reader and honestly how I imagine myself reacting to meeting aus so enjoy xoxo

Okay, don’t panic.

Do not panic.

It’s just a man. A man with blonde, curly locks, blue eyes, over 6 feet tall… but still, a man. Nothing special. You could probably find ten of him walking down Rodeo Drive.

Except that’s probably not true either.

It is Austin Butler, after all.

You hike the tail of your dress higher as you descend up the stairs to the red carpet, inhaling as much oxygen as possible to tame your nerves. It does nothing for you beside provide a placebo effect of calmness. Your publicist, Jane, stands next to you with her eyebrows furrowed in permanent worry, a crinkle she’s had since the day she took you on. “[Y/N], did you get a chance to look at your seating arrangement?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” You respond slowly, wincing slightly as you brace yourself for her reaction. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning towards you.

“You know what, that’s fine, sweets. Just go stand on the carpet so we can take these pictures,” She goes back to her clipboard full of tedious things like timing and interviewers and stupid seating arrangements, and you’re trying to stay focused, but how can you do that when Austin Butler is standing 8 feet away from you, posing on the red carpet?

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling.

Whoever keeps leaving his shirts unbuttoned is a menace to society and needs to be locked away for endangerment to the general public.

This whole idiotic schoolgirl crush began relatively long ago, when he was still deeply in love with Vanessa Hudgens and playing a teen heartthrob on The Carrie Diaries. You weren’t even famous at that point, just a mediocre commercial actress trying to get her big break. Once you finally booked your first big role, the crush faded away (only the tiniest amount) but that all came crashing down like an avalanche when you saw Elvis with your best friend.

They probably could’ve posted the entire movie on a porn website and made the same amount of money. And, thus, your crush ensued, full throttle and invading your every thought at the worst moments. Including this one.

Jane kicks the back of your leg, cursing under her breath as you tear your eyes away from him. You’re not new to this scene, you’ve been in major leading roles and you’ve been nominated for Oscars. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that at your core, you are a complete and utter mess. A klutz. A loser with some money in the bank.

So, you take the pictures, with not too many mistakes as you expected, just a few shots of you blinking while smiling. You’re sure they’ll end up on Twitter where your fans will laugh about it while saying how much they love you.

This part always goes by fast. It’s camera flashes, smiles that are strained under the bright lights, talks with interviewers that always go far longer than expected, and then before you know it, you’re being ushered into a tight room with celebrities you had only dreamed of seeing in real life. Jane is glued to your side as you wait for your turn to enter the theater.

Despite the cool temperature of Los Angeles, you’re somehow drenched in sweat. You’ve done this before, you know that. But that doesn’t stop your entire body from going into fight or flight mode, teetering towards flight.

“What’s the hold up?” You hear a female’s voice yell out, and you almost think it’s Jane before you hear her chuckle beside you.

“Speak that truth. I am so sick of these fucking Oscars dimwits wasting my time,” Jane says loudly enough for the girl to hear it, and before you know it, they’re enthralled in a full-blown conversation. If you weren’t trying to fan your armpit sweat, you might’ve joined.

Maybe it’s a good idea to find out where you’re sitting. Probably will need to know that before you enter. You can only assume they’ll sit you next to your last co-star, Timothee Chalamet. What a delight that would be (and that’s not sarcasm, he always smells like cashmere and some type of forest.)

You turn your body slightly, eyeing Jane and the girl she’s talking to. She’s a redhead, also wearing a suit and clearly another publicist that has been in the position for far too long to enjoy it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a male figure standing next to the redhead. Hm. A black suit. Your eyes trail over his body, a soft black lace shirt that is half-unbuttoned peeking over the hem. How nice. You love that look on men.

Oh, fuck.

Your body freezes. Mouth runs dry. Sweat shrivels back up into your body only to start forming at impossible speeds. Heart palpates so quickly you think you might be going into cardiac arrest.

In front of you, is Austin Butler. And he completely, totally, entirely, caught you checking out his entire body, head to toe.

There’s a smirk on his face that is undeniably directed towards you, eyes glimmering with amusement. You can’t even believe that you’re looking directly at him. He can’t be real, he has to be a figment of your imagination.

“Come here often?”

You did not just speak.

No, you didn’t. That couldn’t have been real. That couldn’t have been what you just said. After years of dreaming about this moment, that can’t have been what your brain and tongue agreed on.

He chuckles, a deep one that rumbles through his chest, and says, “I try not to make it a habit. You?”

You entangle your fingers with each other, hoping the sweat that has gathered on them just slides right off. “Me either. Trying to cut down on my presence and all that.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, that soft smile that curves upon his lips widening a little, “Well, can’t say the Oscars is the best place to do that.”

“Yes, well…” You trail off. Thoughts empty. Brain just a shallow void with nothing but dirty, filthy fantasies about him floating around. Oh god, get a grip.

And he should end the conversation right there, then back around and not acknowledge the weird girl who clearly hasn’t had enough media training. But, he doesn’t. Instead, he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and says, “I’m Austin. Austin Butler.”

“I know,” You say almost immediately. His facial expression contorts into something unreadable, and your lips flap again to try and salvage the rest of your dignity. “I’m [Y/N].”

You shake his hand, praying to some otherworldly creature above that he won’t feel the sweat on your hands. It’s a little weird, when you touch his hand. Feels like you’re envisioning yourself with him, like you’re some kind of wizard that can tell it won’t be the last time you see him. It feels a little like something out of a rom-com, with the electricity zap and the sounds of your hearts beating erratically.

You both pull your hands away, smiling to the ground. You really, really, really hope he’ll keep talking to you.

“Nervous?” He asks, taking note of the way your thumbs twiddle and the sidestep you keep doing with your heels.

“A little. Kinda. Maybe,” You let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not really the most organized.”

“Hm. Well, I’m sure you’ll be great,” His grin widens just enough to show off his pearly white teeth that glimmer under the remaining sunlight that California has to offer.

“Thanks,” You smile back. “How about you? Nervous?”

“Always,” He responds, almost taken aback by the transparency he’s having with another celebrity. He’s never had a conversation about nerves, never felt validated enough by someone to open up about the fear that comes along with being at this level of fame. “It’s my first Oscars.”

“Right,” You say, “Well, I’ve been to a few, and honestly, I’ll let you in on a secret. Even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself a little when the nominees are announced.”

He lets out a laugh, a real one, one that sounds like all good things in the world and you would be more than happy to capture it in a jar and keep it on your bedside forever. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” He switches gears, shifting his body around a little. “What afterparty are you going to?”

It’s a simple question, one you’ve been asked numerous times by other people in the industry. It usually offers a sense of dominance over who got the better invite. “Er, yes, that would be a question for my lovely publicist, Jane, because I don’t have a rat’s ass idea of where I’m supposed to go.”

He laughs. Again. Part of you is enthralled, part of you is confused as to why he thinks you’re a comedy show. Maybe he thinks you’re a joke. Yes, that makes good sense. “That honestly makes me feel better because I don’t really know where I’m going either,” He admits.

“Are you kidding?” You ask incredulously. “You look like that and you don’t know where you’re going? I think the President of the Academy Awards has a personal invite waiting for you.”

Okay, maybe you shouldn’t have said that. But really, it has to be blamed on the fact that there are a swarm of murderous bees flying around in your stomach that are making you feel woozy.

His cheeks turn a crimson glow, “Like that?”

“Oh, you know…” You trail, slowly laughing to brush off the fact that you basically just admitted your undying love to him. “Just…. That’s a great black shirt. I’m gonna buy one for my brother.”

His lips curve upwards a little more, blue eyes sparkling like little oceans. “Thanks. And, you know, you don’t look bad yourself.”

You blink twice. Did he just say that?

Before you even whip up a flirty comment, or even a funny one that’ll have him doubling over in laughter and proposing to you by tonight, you feel Jane gripping your forearm tightly. “Stop dicking around, [Y/N]. We need to go in.”

“Right, yes, totally,” You smile awkwardly over to Austin, and he returns it. You feel soft and warm and glowy inside, like you might levitate off the floor.

And then you really are levitating off the floor, because your feet miss the step and you’re falling before you even have a chance to stop yourself. Your arm extends to try and delay your inevitable fall, but it doesn’t work and you’re really sprawled out. Immediately, Jane rushes down to try and drag you up, hurriedly asking if you’re okay.

You nod slightly, balancing yourself on your knees. Thankfully, you think the vast majority of people have entered the theater and missed out on your embarrassment of epic proportions.

Well, maybe not everyone.

Suddenly, like a light peeking from beyond the clouds, you see an outstretched hand to your right. It’s tan, a male’s hand for sure. You look up to see who could possibly be nice enough to help you up. Maybe it’s God telling you it’s time to pass away.

It’s Austin. And he has a really worried look on his face that you’re shocked by, but his expression falters once he sees the look on your face. You’re smiling, a real big goofy one, because it’s so ridiculous and he’s so ridiculous and you’re pretty sure one of your heels is broken.

You place your hand in his, and his other hand wraps around your waist to help you up and steady yourself against him. Once you’re finally standing, he grins, leaning into your ear, “Remember, even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself at the table.”

You don’t even realize his arm is still wrapped around your waist until you notice the absence of it. You giggle lightly, biting your lip. “Of course. And I think I saw Brad Pitt throw up in the bathroom last year.”

“Austin, we gotta go,” His publicist grabs his hand, and you feel a pang of disappointment. You almost think he does too, his blue eyes turning grayish as he looks back at her.

“Right,” He clears his throat. “Well, good luck tonight, [Y/N]. I hope you win.”

“You too,” The smile on your face is probably permanently tattooed on. You feel Jane’s hand on your back, slowly moving you away from him although your feet beg to stay.

“Oh, and [Y/N]?” You turn back around to face him, “Big fan of your work.”

With that, he turns away with his publicist to go and find his seat amongst the crowd. You watch him disappear, an indescribable feeling washing over your entire body. You’re also being whisked away to your table, greeted by familiar faces and friends. But it’s pretty clear that’s not the reason why you’re smiling.

Some part of your brain decides on one thing: this won’t be the last time you see him.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You decide that you like California. Not a whole lot, but enough to make you sign a contract for a new film. Normally, you believe that Los Angeles and all its surrounding cities are a dreadful structure that encapsulates all the worst features of privileged Southern California lifestyle. But the food is undeniably tasty, and your new apartment is decorated with high ceilings and well-lit rooms, so you’ll make do. You’ll be filming in sunny Calabasas, where the houses are painted a perfect shade of white, where time stills a little and every cloud is just the right amount of fluffy.

The Oscar’s had came and went, and you won, to no one’s surprise but your own. With that accomplishment came offers. People really, truly wanted to work with you, and although it baffled you, Jane was having the time of her life coordinating auditions and interviews.

Everything was truly perfect.

You flip through the pages of your fresh script, your manicured nails turning through the warm pages, the black ink bleeding onto the sheets. Jane sits across from you, feverishly scribbling something, negotiating your pay for your new film. She’ll deliver. In the end, she always does.

She hangs up her call, sighing from relief. You’re about to ask her how it went, if you got the price you wanted, before her phone blares again with that god awful ringtone she refuses to change. She answers it, a cheerful tone in her voice, “Kate? So good to hear from you! What’s going on?”

You tune out of her conversation, focusing your eyes back on the mass of paper in front of you. A new story to be told. A new character to embody. A new chapter of your life. It’s all very emotional and sappy and you almost want to cry tears of happiness, but you’ll save that for later, once you get home and crack open a bottle of wine.

You hear Jane place her phone down, and your eyes flicker back up to her. There’s an expression on her face that’s unreadable, and you’re unsure of how to process it. Oh, no. If you didn’t get the price you wanted, that would suck. Or, maybe you did and she’s just unsure on how to process emotion. You always thought she was a robot.

“I just had the weirdest phone call,” She finally speaks, scratching her forehead quizzically.

“What’s up?” You ask mindlessly, certain she’s going to tell you something personal like her cousin getting married to a farmer.

“That was Austin Butler’s publicist. She said he’s been asking about you since the Oscars.”

There’s no fucking way. She’s pranking you. Any second now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out behind the doorframe and say “You’ve been Punk’d!” and then maybe he’ll also bring out Austin to further your embarrassment.

“Excuse me?” You blink.

“Yeah,” She seems just as baffled as you are. “She said he’s been trying to find a way to get in contact with you, but turns out, you guys don’t have a lot of mutual friends.”

Well, that makes sense.

She continues on, “Anyway, she gave me his number and then said he wants to ask you on a date. So, do with that what you will.”

She unlocks her phone, slides it across the table to you, and you see a phone number typed into her notes. Your hand trembles as you pick up the iPhone, copying the number into your own contacts. You feel woozy, just like you did on that red carpet, just like you did the moment you locked eyes with him.

“Right, well,” You clear your throat. “I’ll just step outside and call him real quick.”

She nods, raising one eyebrow. There’s a small grin that appears on her lips, a knowing one, and you slide out the door into the hallway.

You don’t know what comes over you, or what demon compels you, but you click the number. You hear the ring. There’s a pause. Your heart drops as you think that he might not answer.

And then you hear him. His voice.

“Hello?”

“Uh, h-hi. Hi. This is, um, [Y/N]. Your publicist gave me your number.”

It almost sounds ridiculous.

“[Y/N]. You know, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you but turns out you’re not an easy person to reach,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, you know me and my presence. All time low,” You say sarcastically, and he chuckles.

“Right. Well, congratulations on your win. Very well-deserved,” His voice is deeper than you remember. There’s a slight desire that pools between your legs for a moment before you snap yourself back into reality.

“You too. Some would call it the performance of the year,” And you can’t even believe it’s happening. You’re really flirting with him.

“Thank you,” He says so softly, so charming. He’s always grateful and humble, and it makes you even more attracted to him. If that’s even possible at this point. “So, do you think there’s a chance you would allow me to take you out to dinner? Somewhere lowkey, you know, for your presence and all?”

The question is so unbelievable that you can’t even take it in. You make a few sounds, splutter over your words and trip over them like you did your own two feet at the Oscars. Your heartbeat travels up to your eardrum, pounding with every ounce of blood that travels through you. “U-uh, umm… well, you know, let me go ahead and check my schedule.” There’s a pause. You cover the reciever and scream a silent yell into the void, jumping a few feet high.

Clearing your throat, you say, “Hm. Seems like I’m free tomorrow.”

“You can’t do tonight?”

The question takes you aback. Surely, he can’t be asking that because he wants to see you. “Oh, why? Are you leaving California tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” You hear him shuffle. “I just really want to take you out.”

“Right, yes, of course.” You let his question hang in the air. You know your answer, but you like letting him think there’s a possibility you might reject him.

“I am free tonight.”

“Great,” His voice is upbeat, a newfound excitement peeking through. “Well, text me your address. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”

“Yup, totally. Super duper cool. Looking really forward to it,” You babble on, pacing the hallway you’ve trapped yourself in.

He lets out a low laugh, “Me too. I’ll see you tonight. Bye, [Y/N].”

You say your goodbyes, leaning against the wall for stability before you collapse into a puddle. Later, a janitor might come to find your lifeless body glued to the wall. Cause of death? Man built like a Greek god asks woman on date.

But, everything is fine. You’ll somehow make it.

There’s a ridiculous feeling in your heart, a warmth that spreads to your toes and fingers. Now, everything is perfect.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#austin butler #austin butler elvis #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fluff #austin butler angst #austin!elvis #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine #austin butler gif

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jaemmphilia · 10 months

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★ episode one: casual ★ || seo c.b

★ summary: changbin is called into his agency by his manager to come and look at a potential script for a mini-series that's a spinoff of the popular movie: don't say goodbye. he accepts the script immediately, not realizing who his co-star is until changbin sees him sitting at the table.

★ pairing: actor!changbin x actor!male!reader

★ warnings and rating: colorful language, reader and changbin have some history, enemies/idiots to lovers, (16+ rating), arguments, changbin calls the reader some mean names

★ word count: 1.8K (1810)

★ binnie's thoughts: welcome to the beginning of the paint me naked series! this is going to be a fun one, and i think i've postponed it long enough...

★ requested?: yes, thank you @goovultss and i'm so sorry it took so long for the first part to come out...

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO WAY represents changbin as a person. this fic is simply for entertainment purposes, so enjoy!

★ series masterlist ★

Changbin is over the moon these days.

He’s at the top of his acting career, just like he’s always wanted. He’s constantly being invited to award shows and various celebrity parties (he was invited to world-famous actor Hwang Hyunjin’s recent birthday party, so he knows he’s made it to the big leagues.). He’s a humble guy, no doubt, but sometimes he can’t help but wonder how awesome he is as an actor.

His career started when he was around three years old, and he was in a commercial advertising some sort of brand-new juice. He thought it was gross, but his mother told him she wasn’t going to listen to him whine about the fluid being nasty. He sucked it up and completed the commercial without any further fuss. Will he always remember that oddly specific taste so long as he still lives? Of course, but that’s not the point. Ever since then, he became popular, being cast in small roles, such as the child for a couple, or the younger version of the main character, the list goes on and on.

His roles only increased as he got older and his baby face morphed into one of a more mature type. His chubby cheeks remained, but he finally grew into his nose and eyes. He was then cast into more concrete roles with mature characters and themes. He was excited when he had to smoke a fake cigarette when he played Yoojeon, the secondary love interest and the most intimidating boy in school.

But his success didn’t stop at acting, he was also chosen to walk down fashion runways, as well as appearing on the front of dozens of magazines boasting about his fast jump to fame.

As Changbin is relaxing in his penthouse, flicking through endless channels as he shovels some chips into his mouth, his phone rings loudly. He sets the remote down and picks up his phone, the familiar contact name of his manager, coming to view. He immediately picks up, placing the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, kid. Got any plans today?” His manager asks, and Changbin tells the older man no. He had planned to hit the gym for a few hours, but that can wait until tomorrow.

“Great. Come to my office, there’s a script here that’s calling your name.” The man says and Changbin wastes no time in jumping up and slipping on his shoes. His manager knows that Changbin would never turn down a script, he’s simply just high off on success.

“I’m on my way right now! Did you send a car for me?” Changbin asks as he barrels down the stairs of his penthouse, nearly falling to his death.

“Yes, it’s waiting at the front of your complex building. And please don’t rush down the stairs. You remember what happened last time.” The older man scolds.

Oh, Changbin remembers it well. He was excited about a script reading and he misstepped on the stairs and fell straight down to the bottom, breaking his arm in the process. The broken arm led to him missing the opportunity to play the lead role in the movie he was going to be reading the script for. They gave the role to his worst enemy: Moon [Name].

Moon [Name] is the bane of Changbin’s existence. He’s snobby, egotistic, and contemptuous. Changbin hates his guts with his pretty face and great acting skills. Ugh, it drives Changbin up a wall just thinking about that asshole. Moon [Name] loves to make things into a competition, he’s always been like that. It’s always about who can get the better roles or who can accumulate the highest amount of sponsors for just a single role.

If Changbin could drive, he would’ve hit [Name] with this car a long time ago.

Once Changbin enters the building, he gets the rundown from his manager. His manager tells him the script is a spinoff of the hit movie “Don’t Say Goodbye” starring Han Jisung and Lee Minho. Changbin gets even more excited because he loves that movie.

He remembers sitting in his penthouse sobbing like a baby because Jinhae (Jisung’s character) had died of some terminal illness without his summer lover, Yeohan (Minho’s character) knowing. He cried for days and days after watching the movie for the first time. He then proceeded to watch it six more times. He’s a hopeless romantic, cut him some slack.

Knowing that the script is for the spinoff, he wonders if the characters will be the friend of Jinhae and the brother of Yeohan; Taesung and Yeohei. They were only mentioned a few times in the movie, and it was hinted that they were crushing on each other. Changbin also wonders which role he’ll get, will he be Taesung or Yeohei? If he were to choose, he would pick Taesung. Taesung sounds way cooler than Yeohei.

Changbin arrives at the producer’s building, and he goes to the large meeting room his manager told him to go to. Changbin greets his manager outside the room, and he can’t help but notice the nervous look on the older man’s face. The way his eyes shift and refuse to look at Changbin.

“Hyung, what’s got you all worked up? Is your wife not speaking to you again?” Changbin jokes, but his manager only lets out a huff of a laugh in response. “Hold on, what’s going on? You always laugh at my jokes!”

“I think it’s best if you walk into the room and see for yourself.” The older man says, his gaze still not meeting Changbin’s. Changbin is confused, his strong eyebrows furrowed as he pushes open the door to the meeting room.

When he enters, his gaze falls on a particular body in the room. The person looks up from his phone, his soft [EC] eyes staring straight into Changbin’s eyes. When the two of them realize who each other are, they both speak in unison:

“Oh, fuck no.”

It’s a few days after that unnecessarily aggressive encounter with [Name], and Changbin is not taking the role of Taesung. As much as he would love that role, he refuses to work with [Name]. Changbin’s manager is desperately trying to convince and bribe the young star to take the role, but Changbin isn’t listening.

“Come on Changbin! This role could be huge for you! You’re already familiar with the storyline, and the director says your appearance fits Taesung’s character perfectly!” His manager cries out, the man slowly getting fed up with his bratty client. “It doesn’t get any more perfect than that!’

“I’ll take that role when [Name] is not my co-star,” Changbin says gruffly, letting out a puff of air as he lifts the heavy metal bar above his head, his bicep muscles tensing with strain. “You know how I feel about that fucking brat.”

His manager huffs and rubs his temples, “Do you maybe, I don’t know, think you’re being dramatic?”

Changbin sets the metal bar on the hooks above him and he sits up, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He fixes his glare onto his manager, his plump bottom lip jutted out, which makes him less intimidating than he thinks. “Me? I’m not being dramatic! I just really hate that pretentious asshole!”

“Changbin, just think about the aftermath if you take this role. You would blow up, even more than you already have. You’re already at the top, but you can go higher.” His manager says to him, hoping those words of encouragement will give him the push he needs.

Changbin thinks about those words, the tension between his brows relaxing just a bit. If he takes the role, his fame would skyrocket, taking him higher than he already is right now. Maybe he should take the role, what if [Name] isn’t the same dickhead he remembers the male being? With a very dramatic sigh, he agrees to take the role. His manager immediately takes out his phone to call the director, leaving Changbin to resume his once-interrupted workout.

It’s the first day of filming, and Changbin is pretty much vibrating with excitement. He spent the past three days memorizing his lines. He could barely sit still long enough for his makeup artist to complete his makeup. He was itching to film and he had not seen [Name] yet, so today was already faring to be a good one.

That is, until [Name] showed up on set, his hair and makeup finished, his once [HC] hair now hidden under a black wig with purple streaks, the hairstyle in a shaggy cut. [Name] has a lip piercing, a silver ring straight down the middle of his plump, soft red colored lips. He’s wearing a fuzzy wine-red sweater with white cat paws littered around it hanging on his slimmer frame. Changbin tries not to stare for too long, but he has to admit that the piercing suits [Name] pretty well. A little too well, he might admit.

He turns his gaze away before he gets caught staring, and his makeup artist informs him that he’s done. She hands him a mirror, and Changbin barely recognizes himself. He has on green contacts, making his chocolatey brown eyes morph into a soft hazel color. They decided to keep his natural deep brown curls, feeling that they tied Taesung’s character together perfectly. His makeup artist placed a few small fake tattoos on his face, and he really likes how he looks. He feels like a badass motorcycle driver or the rebellious son of a mafia boss.

“You look pretty good, Taesung.” A playful voice snaps him out of his little fantasy world. His face falls when he realizes [Name] is the one talking to him. Changbin hopes he didn’t get caught staring at his sworn enemy. [Name] is standing right in front of him, a cheeky smile on his face. Changbin wishes he could just slap that look off [Name]’s face.

Changbin and [Name] barely managed to finish one scene together before they began arguing. The two are all up in each other’s faces, spitting hateful insults at each other. Their managers exchange a look, the two of them were already used to their client’s childish behavior by now. [Name]’s manager asks for a short break, even though filming had just started no less than five minutes ago. The director nods, not wanting to get in between the quarrel. Changbin’s manager pulls him away from [Name], but that doesn’t stop Changbin from calling the other male a stuck-up bitch.

“Changbin, what the hell were you two even arguing about?” His manager asks, handing him a water bottle, hoping it would calm the male down.

Changbin angrily drinks the water before answering, “[Name] sai–” A pause. “You know what, I don’t even remember.”

Changbin’s manager groans. This was going to be a long filming process.

#kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #male reader #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x male reader #changbin

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beautification-tales · 5 days

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The Caregiver

An Outbreak story

Sandra was concerned about her stepson Jim. She is certain he has the virus. The symptoms had been there for three days now: Complete physical changes along with mental ones. Jim seemed more aggressive lately and more irritable. She was so tempted to call the authorities but was scared of what experiments they would do to her sweet boy.

“You can’t keep me cooped inside forever Sandra!” Jim growled. He paced back and forth, his eyes burning with anger. Sandra stood her ground, her expression calm but firm. “Jim, baby you’re sick! If people find out you have the virus.. they’ll put you in a research facility. You know that right?” She took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. But he flinched away, his fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at his stepmother as some clarity returned to his mind. He unclenched his fists and sighed. “I’m sorry mom. It’s so hard to think lately… All I want to do is…” Jim looked at his mother with compassion but with a hunger she never saw before. “What is it baby?” she asked softly, taking another step closer. Jim stepped back fighting the natural urges the virus had brought forth. “It’s nothing mom… I just need to be alone.”

Jim walked swiftly and ran up the stairs. Sandra heard her stepson’s door close behind him. Santa looked over at their family portrait in the middle of the living room. “Oh Jack! How am I going to protect him?” Sandra was scared as her sweet nerdy stepson had returned a different man. Sandra had always been afraid of losing Jim ever since Jack passed away. Now the fear was exacerbated by his current… ailment.

Sandra placed her hand on her heart as she felt it beating fast. It was from fear but it was also from her stepson’s presence. She looked at the picture of Jack and how strong and handsome he was. Jim looked so much like him now and it was affecting her.

Sandra turned on the television as the news was still talking about the outbreak. The anchor was discussing the news with their health correspondent. “Yes it has spread throughout Asia and it is confirmed to have hit Australia.” The correspondent said with a grave expression. Sandra felt a chill run down her spine. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her shoulders. “And what about the flight that landed in LAX? The one with the two ehhh affected flight attendants?” The anchor asked cautiously. Sandra knew that flight well. It was the one that Jim had taken to come from a school trip just 4 days ago. “Well it seems to have transformed them into blonde…. And I’m sorry to say… bimbos. They have insatiable libidos and irresistible pheromones. The good news is the strain they have is not airborne and only transferred by fluids. They seemed to have only transferred the virus to the two pilots of the plane.” The correspondent explained. “Thank you Dr. Mullin. We remind our viewers if you notice any physical or mental changes in any of your friends or family please isolate them and call the proper authorities. When we come back more ‘outbreak’ coverage.” The anchor said as the screen cut to a commercial break.

Sandra turned off the television and sighed. She rubbed her temples as she slowly walked up the stairs. She decided to check on her stepson. The sound of grunts and slapping came from his room. Sandra shook her head knowing the sound of her son masturbating. Sandra turned to walk to her room but stopped when she heard Jim scream “mom!” Sandra rushed quickly to her son’s call. She opened the door to find her son still pleasing his engorged cock. Sandra gasped as she realized the extent of Jim’s transformation.

Jim’s body was covered in shapely muscle as his abs flexed as his hips gyrated into his hand. The room’s scent was strong as it was filled with the smell of sweat and cum. Sandra inhaled deeply and felt herself become wet with desire. Sandra looked higher and saw that Jim had a pair of her pantyhose covering his eyes and nose. “Ung mom, yes suck my cock like that.” Jim panted as Sandra felt herself walking closer to her son.

She found herself at the foot of the bed as she licked her lips. The temptation to touch her own stepson was great. “Yes, you’re gonna make me cum!” Jim’s cock erupted as streams of cum landed everywhere. Sandra quickly exited as her son uncovered his face and cleaned himself off.

Sandra rushed into her room and closed her door. She could feel her heart racing as the images were fresh in her mind. Jim’s toned body covered in sweat as he called for her. Jim holding her pantyhose to his face. He must have imagined herself sitting on him. He was so large and he came so much. “No! Stop it!” Sandra said out loud hoping to silence her naughty thoughts.

Sandra knew that Jim wasn’t her own but she practically raised him. Jack found her as a lonely young woman longing for a family. She remembered fondly the first time Jack introduced Jim to her as a young boy ten years old all that time ago. He hugged her tightly as she felt her eyes fill with tears. Sandra knew then she had found her family and she would never let anyone take it from her.

“I have to call the authorities…. For Jim’s sake.” Sandra muttered to herself as she prepared to take a shower. She reached down to undo her jeans. She gasped as felt a wet spot on her pocket. “Oh my God… is that his cum?” Sandra felt awkward as the substance covered her fingers. She played with it a bit as it felt very sticky. She smelled it as her whole body reacted. Sandra’s eyes rolled back as she felt goosebumps and her nipples hardened. She began licking her fingers as it tasted like sweet honey in her mouth. She began sucking her fingers until she realized what she was doing. She undressed and showered with cold water before hitting the bed.

“I know you want me to Sandra.” Jim said at the foot of her bed. Sandra jumped up as she saw Jim naked stroking his hard manhood. “Jim you know I hate it when you call me… Jim stop that!” Jim laughed as he walked closer to her. His body glistening with sweat, his muscles bulging under his tight skin. He smelled intoxicating, a mixture of sex and desire. She wanted to resist but couldn't find the strength. “C’mon mom you promised to take care of me when dad died. Let’s take care of each other.” Jim said as he climbed on the bed and straddled her. His thick cock pointed at her lips. Sandra felt her heart race as she opened her mouth and took him in. Jim moaned loudly as she began to suck him off. His sweet taste filled her mouth and she couldn't help but swallow.

Sandra awoke from her dream drenched in sweat as she tried to catch her breath. Her body ached as she was tempted to touch herself. She stopped herself as in a trance she got up and disrobed her pajamas. She put on her black lace bra and panties and her thigh high stockings. An outfit she hadn’t worn since Jack’s passing and walked to Jim’s bedroom.

Sandra opened the door and found Jim tossing and turning in bed. He was naked, his muscular body covered in sweat. The sheets were tangled around his legs, and he was moaning softly in his sleep. Her heart raced as she took a step closer to the bed. She reached out and gently ran her hand through his sweaty hair, causing him to stir slightly. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back.

"Jimmy?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. He didn't respond, still lost in his dreams. Sandra climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips, and laid her head on his chest. His heartbeat thundered in her ears, matching her own racing pulse. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and the scent of his skin filled her nostrils. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, feeling the warmth of his skin against her own.

She let her fingers wander, tracing the lines of his abs, teasing the hairs on his chest. Jim moaned softly, his body tensing beneath her touch. She leaned forward, capturing one of his nipples between her teeth, gently biting down. He cried out, his hips bucking upwards, seeking contact with her. She released his nipple, feeling the hard peak beneath her fingertips as it stood at attention.

Her heart raced, her breath coming faster as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear. "You feel so good, Jimmy," she whispered, her voice husky. "So alive." She slid her hand lower, over his abdomen and toward his hip. Her fingers found the soft cotton of his boxers, tracing the outline of his erection through the fabric. "Let me help you feel better," she breathed, her hand moving lower still, reaching beneath the fabric and grasping him firmly.

Jim awoke and quickly jerked up. He looked around confused before focusing on his mother. "Mom?" he said, his voice thick with desire. Sandra smiled softly, her eyes locked on his erection. "You're so big," she breathed, running her hand up and down his shaft. "So hard." She leaned forward, taking him into her mouth, sucking gently at first before deepening the kiss, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. Jim's hips bucked, pushing deeper into her mouth as he moaned loudly.

Sandra increased speed as her head jerked up and down on Jim’s cock. His hips began to thrust forward, meeting her movements with an urgency that she hadn't expected. His moans filled the room, mixing with her own wet, slurping sounds as she sucked him deeper. She could feel his hot seed building in his veins, ready to explode. “Yes please taste my cum!” he gasped, his voice hoarse.

With one last powerful thrust, Jim came, his seed erupting from his cock and splashing onto the back of her throat. Sandra swallowed eagerly, savoring the salty taste as it filled her mouth. Jim collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he fought for air. Sandra slowly pulled her mouth away, her lips still wet with his cum, and looked up at him.

“You taste so good. Ahhhh” Sandra moaned as she felt her body shake. The virus flowed into her as her older skin tightened and gained a more youthful color. The crows feet under eyes vanished as she felt her breasts firm up. She grabbed them and felt them grow in her hands. Her graying blond hair gained its vibrant blonde color of her youth. Sandra’s back arched as she felt her ass grow. The stockings stretched as her thighs got a bit thicker and her calves got strong. She stood on her toes as her foot arch returned to her dancing form. She felt her tight abdomen as she smiled remembering how men desired her. She was even better than how she was then and an even more handsome man than Jack was before her.

Jim felt his cock come back to attention as he saw his mom become even hotter than she was. Jim was always attracted to her but the virus had made his desires impossible to ignore. “Damn Sandra you’re smoking hot.” Sandra with lightning speed jumped on Jim as she guided his hard member into her wet pussy. She began gyrating as Jim fell back on the bed paralyzed by pleasure. “What did I say about calling me that? I’m mommy baby” she moaned as she squeezed her inner muscles around him. Jim moaned as he felt every inch of her tight, wet heat envelop him. He thrust into her, meeting her rhythm, their skin slapping together in perfect harmony.

Jim finally looked up and caressed her body freeing her breasts from her bra. “Yes mommy. Ungh you feel so good.” Sandra moaned as she felt his hands on her. She reached down and held his wrists, guiding them up above his head, pinning him down as she continued to ride him. Jim felt helpless and utterly at her mercy, his hips bucking uselessly against the bed.

Sandra grabbed Jim’s hands and placed them on her hosiery covered thighs. Jim groaned loudly as he felt his cock twitch. “You like when mommy wears these?” she asked, her voice husky with desire. Jim nodded weakly, his hips moving involuntarily against the bed. She smiled down at him, her eyes flashing with lust. With a swift motion, she slid her hand down between their bodies and began rubbing her clit as she continued to ride him.

Her other hand moved up to cup his face, her thumb tracing circles around his lips. Jim opened his mouth, eager to taste her as she leaned down and brushed their lips together. Their tongues tangled, their breath mixing as they shared the sensation of her body moving against his.

Sandra arched her back, her nails digging into his chest as her orgasm washed over her. She cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure as she came. Jim felt her walls squeeze tight around him, her muscles contracting in the most exquisite way. His own release followed close behind, his seed spilling deep inside her as he groaned.

They both collapsed on the bed as their morals disappeared and their desires increased.

“I was so wrong to keep you cooped up here in the house. I better let you go back to school baby.”

1 week later

Jim was brought into the research facility when a student called the CDC. Apparently Jim couldn’t recall how many students he had sex with. The CDC began testing students to see who was infected and found them all. The virus was contained.

“Sir, he did spend time home before coming back to school. Should we test the mother too?”

“Negative, the virus is only transmitted via fluids. He wouldn’t fuck his mom.”

And so the virus spread.

#beautification #transformation #f2f transformation #breast expansion #bimboification #origin stories #ass expansion #beauty is power #virus #mind corruption #stepmom

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munsonmuses · 5 months

Text

Noise Complaint

Modern day AU

College Boy Eddie Munson x RA Reader

Inspiration credit to my dear friend Bug, who listens to my ramblings about being an RA at my teeny little university. And dropped the idea of Eddie being a resident. Thank you @munson-blurbs

Warnings: Shameless smut with light buildup, definitively just a bunch of hate fucking, p in v, oral (reader receiving) reader has female anatomy but isn’t referred to directly as a woman, light choking, creampies, light amateur bondage, Eddie is a shithead and kind of a bully (and kind of a kinky mf)

Word Count: 2.6k

This is mostly to tide y’all over until the next chapter of Spiritual Reserves

——

You carefully walked your weekly Thursday night rounds of the building, each floor more boring than the last. A menial task between desk shifts, programs, door decs, duty phone calls and staff meetings. Lightly drumming your hands along your hips as you listened to your music through your earbuds. Humming along to Moonwalker as you finished your rounds on the fifth floor. Keying into your room and flipping down on your bed, going to close your eyes.

Until violently interrupted by the incessant ringing of your duty phone, picking up and frowning deeply to yourself. “Thank you for calling the Creel Hall Duty Phone, what seems to be the problem?” You spoke in a customer service voice, carefully waiting before hearing a familiar sigh as you quirked a brow. “Nancy?”

Your coworker, Nancy Wheeler worked the front desk while you did rounds, and called you every Thursday around midnight. Each time it was the same thing.

“Hey um, Jason Carver called again, about being unable to stay in his dorm room, as his roommate is playing music too loudly, as always…” she spoke softly as you pushed yourself to sit up, sighing in frustration.

“Room three forty nine right? Down the west wing…it’s Eddie Munson? Again?” You asked, earning a confirming hum as you wished her goodbye and pushed to your feet. Slipping on your house shoes and making the trek down to the third floor.

As you descended the stairs, the loud screeching of an electric guitar through a well abused amp grew louder. Causing your brain to rattle as you grit your teeth. Pushing down the hall and stopping at the door. There was a white board stuck to the front, with a messily scrawled poll on it, something that changed each week. Likely Munson’s doing. Although a bit of a social reject, he took attention in any way he could get it. Much to your chagrin as you pounded on the door.

And again…

And again.

By the third knock, the playing stopped as the door flew open, Eddie Munson stood with a shit eating grin. Currently chewing on spearmint gum that wafted on his breath as you crinkled your nose. Wearing nothing more than black sweats wearing the schools logo, his rings, and his hair in a low bun. Tattoos littering his arms and chest, a tattoo of gnashing fangs on his ribs as you rolled your eyes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Did someone narc again, or do you just wanna see me that bad, trying to sneak a free concert mmm?” He asked with a grin as you cleared your throat.

“You do this every goddamn Thursday. If it’s not loudly playing music? It’s you and your idiot friends racing the halls. Or you holding the main lobby hostage, or losing your id and getting locked out. It’s only ever on Thursdays. If anyone wants to see anyone bad, it’s you wanting to see me-“ you hissed as you jutted your chin towards the inside of his room. Signaling you wanted to be let in as he gallantly threw his arm out, gesturing for you to enter as he bowed lightly. Earning a sneer from you as he relished in your contempt. He drew a sort of joy from your anger in him, the attention was invigorating. In being refused love so much by his peers in high school, he’d learned to adore the hate that was sent his way.

Hate festers, it meant he was always in the minds who despised him, like a catchy commercial jingle from the early 2000’s.

He watched as you poked around his half of the room. Littered with posters, lewd art, and piles of clean and dirty clothes. The light smell of sweat, spearmint and pine coming with him as you scoffed lightly at him.

His amp was in the center of the floor right by the foot of his bed, something you clearly missed as you fell, landing flat on your stomach and chin on the cold tile with a sturdy thud. Groaning in pain as Eddie’s smile faltered and he immediately walked over, offering a hand to help you up.

“Holy shit I am so sorry, are you okay?” He asked as he held his hand out to you, watching as you took his forearm in your hand, before yanking him down as he met the same fate. Harshly hitting the floor as you laughed at him harshly. Snorting at him as he held his mouth, his two front teeth having lightly punctured his lip. Not enough to split it, but enough to draw blood.

“You are the only resident I have problems with…” you started as you glared at him harshly. “You’re loud, messy, pushy, you torment the hall-“ you continued as he glowered at you while sitting up.

Licking the blood from his bottom lip, he looked at you bitterly as he quietly listened, cutting you off.

“You’re a prissy, shrill, overly sensitive brat-“ he hissed, big eyes dark as he looked you over as you hummed.

“I’m doing my job Munson, I get paid to do this-“ you hissed as you looked at his lips. Full, pouty, with the crimson stain of fresh blood.

“You need to get fucking laid, maybe then you’ll pull the stick out of your ass-“ he snapped as he leaned in closer. “Stuck up bitch.”

“Idiot.” You hissed back, getting closer as you bumped the tip of your nose with his own, earning a growl from Eddie.

Your skin was prickling with heat as you stared him down. Trying not to fold as you felt his breath fanning across your lips.

Before you could fully process, he pushed his lips against yours. Harsh and feverish as you groaned into his mouth. The light taste of iron mingling with the spearmint in his mouth as you shuddered lightly. Letting him pull you in tight by your sweatshirt as you ran a hand up the back of his neck. Undoing his bun as you tangled your fingers into the base of his scalp, brown trellises of hair tangling around your fingers.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed as you pulled back for air, glaring at him as he rolled his eyes. Discarding his gum and pulling you to stand with him.

Backing you up, he pushed you up against the metal and wood bed frame that held his shambles of bedding. Continuing his kissing at you as he pawed at your sweatshirt, getting it off and over your head as you shuddered. His hands so warm opposed to the cold trapped within the room.

“For a total bitch? You have great tits…” he murmured as he lightly took hold of them. Large and calloused hands groping and squeezing, earning soft whines and heavy breaths from you as he laughed. His thumb and forefinger taking hold of your stiffening nipples, lightly pinching and twisting as you whined out his name, clearly worked up as he laughed lightly to himself.

“You’re a lot nicer to listen too when you’re not bitching at me…” he mumbled in your ear, lightly nipping at the lobe as you shuddered harshly.

Trailing your hands down his chest, you worked your fingers down, stopping over the stiff outline of his cock as you lightly ran your hand over him and earned a light but deep groan from him. Working your other hand into his waistband as you went to work his sweats off. Earning a harsh pinch on your left nipple as you looked at him.

“We’re doing this my way. I’m in charge now.” He insisted harshly. “Now, up on the bed.” He pat your hip to motivate you, watching as you used the step stool to get up and sit on the mattress. Watching as he rooted around in his closet quietly.

He apparently found what he was searching for, coming over with a well worn black belt in hand. Quietly climbing into the bed alongside you as he hummed.

In silence, he took your wrists, wrapping the belt around them firmly, and around the wooden bar at his headboard. Pulling tight as he checked to make sure they weren’t so tight he’d cut off circulation. Once sure, he hummed in approval and lightly pat your cheek. “Good, you look so pretty like this…” he cooed down at you, watching as you chewed on your lower lip and nodded lightly. The confidence in you dwindling.

“You’re a lot prettier when you’re not making everyone’s ears bleed you cu-“ you were cut off by a harsh kiss, his hand lightly making its way up your stomach and chest. A gentle pressure applied to the sides of your throat. A gentle choking sensation applied as you moaned lightly into his mouth. Feeling his cock twitching against your thigh as you gave into the kiss.

Eddie pulled back for air, lightly patting your cheek as he released his light hold on your throat. Sliding his way back down to the edge of the bed.

His hands took hold of your waistband, working off your shorts and underwear agonizingly slow. Eyes trained on yours as you whined lightly.

“Hurry the fuck up-“ you hissed out as Eddie smacked your inner thighs lightly. Glaring at you as he rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking impatient…” he muttered before working his hand further in, humming as he lightly cupped you in his hand. Running his middle finger up your slit. Stopping at your clit as he worked in small, circular motions. Watching your face as your lashes fluttered and your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ shape. “There we go, see? I can do a lot more with these hands besides playing guitar like a fucking god…” he hummed out softly as he continued. Drawing soft moans from you as he nodded.

Applying a bit more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves, he laughed lightly as he gently worked on getting you relaxed. He was a dick, but he was considerate. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this…all pink in the face, mouth open…let’s give them some real noise to complain about,” you could see him cringe a bit at his statement, cocky and a bit cheesy.

He pulled your legs apart slowly, bowing his head down as he placed soft and deep kisses along your inner thighs and trailing inwards. His lips stopping at your clit as he pressed a slow and deep kiss to it, humming lightly as he tentatively listened for your reaction. Wanting to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable or unhappy with his actions.

“Eddie don’t tease…fucking hell.” You hissed as he laughed lightly. Taking it a step further as he lightly sucked on your clit, circling it slowly with his tongue and applying tentative amounts of pressure. Earning a full moan from you as he carefully worked on his middle finger. Pressing in slowly as he curled and flexed his finger. Getting you to cum first was his goal.

He kept his ministrations going, refusing to let up unless asked as he laughed lightly. Sending vibrations through you as you arched your back lightly, pressing further into his face. “Fuck! Eddie keep going-“ you demanded as he eased in a second finger. Beginning the slow thrusting and curling. Flexing his fingers apart as he increased the pressure on your clit. Feeling your walls flutter around his fingers as he sped up. Getting a bit overeager as your thighs clamped around his head and squeezed.

Your eyes rolled back as you cried out desperately, babbling. Eddie was right, you did need to get laid. The stress of the job was melting off your shoulders as the knot in your lower abdomen came undone. Earning a desperate cry from you as you came, soaking his mouth and chin as he hummed. Pulling his fingers out as he worked in his tongue slowly, humming as he made his way back up and eventually pulled away entirely. Sitting up as he looked at you.

“So fucking good…” he eased both fingers into your mouth, urging you to taste yourself as he hummed. “See sweetheart,” he crooned, laughing lightly to himself as he pulled his digits from your obedient mouth. Patting your cheek lightly and getting to work on removing his own bottoms.

His cock was undeniably hard, unable to be ignored as he hummed and slowly stroked himself. His other hand grabbing your chin and tilting your head down to get a look at him.

“Watch me. Don’t take your eyes off of me, I want you to watch me fuck you…” he ordered as you nodded your head lightly, watching as he lined himself up, and got to work.

Pushing into you, he groaned lightly. Watching as your mouth fell slack and lashes fluttered. Grinning in pride as he eased in inch by inch. Panting and rambling praise as he bottomed out within you. Holding your hips firmly in his hands as he lightly rolled his hips.

“So fucking gorgeous, you take my cock so well honey…” he took hold of your calves. Bending your legs up and back before pulling them upwards over his shoulders. Pressing light kisses to your ankles and calves, before biting down lightly as he took a deep and long thrust.

Your head fell back, eyes rolling back as you moaned desperately. Unable to fight the pleasure that washed over you in overwhelming waves. Moaning desperately as you clenched your fists and whined desperately. “Don’t fucking stop, good god-“ you growled out as you took each bruising thrust. Eddie was filled with lust and stamina, his hips knocking into the backs of your thighs as you grinned. “So good-“ you whined lightly.

Eddie laughed to himself as he listened, his thrusts deep and overdrawn as he rocked into you. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, the pressure building up was addicting. His necklace thumping with each thrust against his chest. Your breasts lightly bouncing as he drank in the sight of you. You were gorgeous underneath him. Fucked out and pliant as he pat your cheek.

“Don’t stop looking at me sweetheart. Look at what you do to me…look at how good you make me feel.” He ordered as he felt himself getting worked up, losing a bit of control as he grinned to himself:

He leaned forward, pressing your legs into your chest as he angled your hips upwards. Causing him to reach deeper inside you, grinning. “You’re squeezing me real good, see, you can be real nice to have around…nicer to look at from this angle at least~” he cooed in a patronizing manner as he grinned.

The cacophony of moans, thrusts, panting, and the creaking of the mattress felt ridiculously loud. Flooding your brain and making your brain feel like putty as the pressure in your abdomen grew. Stomach growing tight as you whined.

“Eddie? I’m gonna cum-“ you whined as he laughed lightly.

“Not yet honey, not till I say…” he insisted as he kept his thrusts going. Making sure to hold you firmly in place beneath him. He was drunk on you.

“I’m getting close sweetheart, so what you’re gonna do is cum with me…okay? Can you do that?” He punctuated each question with a harsh thrust as you nodded your head obediently. “Good-“ he hummed as he carefully sped up, leaning down ad he pressed impossibly deeper.

Nose to nose with you, he hummed. His breaths growing ragged as he held onto your chin. “Now-“ he pushed.

You let go, whining as a searing white wave of pleasure rolled over you. Your orgasm rocking you as you whined. Coming back from your delirium as you felt the heat of his own orgasm filling you. His light rutting causing some to spill over as you whined and groaned.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips, Eddie hummed. “Same time next Thursday?”

——

Taglist: Open

@munson-blurbs

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader

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thegreatsylvando · 4 months

Text

A short little dotmunch fanfic i wrote, delving more into their bond & whatever powers munch might have. also posting here in case the link fails for whatever reason.

Dot is not outright paying attention to the commercials, but the banal jingles stick in her mind uncomfortably enough for her to note that a particularly annoying one has played four times. She has a headache that coffee and breakfast failed to soothe, but she can't muster any energy to switch the TV off and give her brain some reprieve from the light and sound. Wayne is at work. Scotty is at school. They have the house to themselves. When it's all four of them, it's a hearth in the darkness. She could never want for anything ever again. She even turned down Lorraine's offer to relocate them somewhere bigger and fancier. Dot was never one for showing off wealth. Not that she ever had it to begin with, but she always found Lorraine's castle garish and hollow; a museum that happened to have some beds and a kitchen. A trophy hall. She could never leave this house. It breathes with her, is scarred like her, is bent and broken in some places but patched up in others, where it matters. And when it's just her and the strange man with ancient eyes, she feels its tendons and capillaries bind to her own.

She decides not to call his name. He might get scared, or think she wants him to do something. She shuffles up to the guest bedroom, trying to dodge the places on the stairs that creak. He's almost deliberately quiet, in everything he does. When she fed him for the first time, he cried, but he did it silently, swallowing everything with each bite of pancake. She felt it anyway. The way the fork trembled in his hand magnetically resonated in her own. He held the rim of his plate delicately, but she noted the tips of his fingers were white with effort, as if he were trying to prevent his good fortune, this dream, from floating away. She watched his tears drip into the syrup, the muscles in his swollen throat working to make room, his jaw clenching sharply to keep it focused on nothing else but chewing.

He cleaned his plate and allowed for one singular moment to drop decorum, when he sucked some residual syrup off his thumb. Dot's insides twisted when she saw that, her own throat closing up at how innocent it was, and the deprivation it inferred. A ragged "thank you" clawed itself out, and he stood robotically to start helping her with the dishes. Wayne and Scotty were stirred momentarily from their chatter when they saw him looming in their peripherals. Scotty got right back to it, but Wayne's eyes lingered before resuming, the cadence in his voice implying a sort of desperation to uphold normality in the wake of this intimidating stranger he had no words for. Dot told him he didn't have to help, but he didn't seem to hear, instinctively reaching for the dishwashing liquid and sponge with the same stiffness. He did look at her, though. His eyes were bloodshot. The skin across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose were flushed, and, against every titanic ounce of effort he put forth, his bottom lip quivered like a little boy's. She squeezed his hand as tight as she could, keeping his gaze, hoping that through the tears he could see her seeing him. Her own welled up, and spilled over when he squeezed her hand back. The water softened his calluses, and their bony sharpness made them feel like that of an old woman.

She knocks on the door gingerly.

"Munch?"

She's surprised she was able to go this long without catching his attention. His senses seem so primal. He turns to look. Around his shoulders is a thick, washed-out-blue comforter. Instead of reclining on the bed, he's curled up in the corner it makes with the nightstand.

"Dot."

A fuzzy warmth pools in her belly.

"Whatcha doin' up here?"

He holds up a yellowed copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz she didn't know she had.

"...Reading."

Her ears perk up. She enjoys the way he speaks, the way he makes her name thicker with his pronunciation, though she has no idea how to articulate that. His voice is raspy, but marbly, purposeful, with the kind of crisp emphasis on each syllable that implied English was not his first language.

"Oh, yeah? That's a blast from the past. We should watch the movie sometime."

"...Movie?"

"Yeah. You ever seen a movie before?"

"...No."

A pause.

"I know what movies are."

Something about the way he says that, the unintentional attitude, almost makes her laugh. She nods, remembering when he told her he was very old without clarifying exactly what that meant. She chose not to pry any further. It was none of her business, and she probably wouldn't understand anyway.

His expression softens as she approaches to sit beside him; the beginnings of a smile in his eyes. He's wearing a loose charcoal t-shirt with a lighter gray thermal long-sleeved underneath and plaid pajama pants, courtesy of Wayne. Dot notices the soapy scent coming off him, mixed with what seemed to be the unwashable smell of age. Musky and slightly damp, but not unpleasant, as if he were an old house, too. It's a stark contrast to when she first invited him in a week ago, and there were no forces of weather or perilous circumstances to distract her senses. Immediately, she was hit by unwashed hair; sweat; clothes that smelled as if they were locked away in the dark for a long time; fresh dirt, but dirt nonetheless; and something coppery, not dank enough to be blood but not mundane enough to be pennies either. His skin was badly chapped, his lips split in multiple places, and she noticed he tucked his chin in when he deigned it necessary to speak, as if to hide his teeth. She watched his eyes dart around self-consciously, his bottom lip disappearing into his mouth to be gnawed at. The maneater with the sun at his back that pulled her up from the pit of rot was nowhere to be found. In his place, a lost child who does not speak the language of his saviors. Immediately, she felt her chest collapse in on itself. Please don't tell me I've already taught him shame. Thankfully, Wayne saved the day, clapping a hand onto Munch's shoulder.

"S-so, you're the guy, huh? I gotta say, um...thank you for your service. I...uh...I mean, th-thank you. For what you've done. You really, um--"

He takes a breath. Maneuvers into shaking Munch's hand after realizing he flinched from the clap.

"You saved my Dottie's life. Thank you."

Munch gave a curt nod, still a deer in headlights. The face of someone who'd never been congratulated for anything in his life. Dot suddenly felt her surroundings melt away. She was eight years old, in a verdant field, the summer breeze warming her neck. In front of her was a little boy, shaggy pale hair obscuring a dirty, gaunt face that was more shadow than skin, shreds of filthy cloth hanging on his shoulders and waist. She cocked her head, and he did the same. She raised her palm towards him, and he followed. The childlike glee of old bubbled under her skin, fireworks going off in her head. The boy interlocked their fingers, and she heard cheerful laughter somewhere in the distance. Before she could determine where it was coming from, the vision vanished, Munch's wide eyes locked onto hers. He blinked away. The base of her neck tingled. Somehow they both knew this was never going to be a one-time compensatory meal. There was a thread between them.

"You have many books. We have not had books in a long time."

She almost asks what a long time entails, but bites her tongue.

"Yeah, I see ya hoarding books whenever you can like a little squirrel. You show up in front of the bookcase and there's a big gap all of a sudden."

Munch looks like he's trying to figure out how the word "little" tastes.

"I...do not mean to steal."

"No, no-no-no-no-no, hon! You're all right! I'm just playing. I'm glad you're a bookworm. I see Scotty try, but she mostly stays on her computer."

Munch starts to smile, but sucks in his lip before his teeth can show, turning it into an awkward wince. She reaches to gently squeeze his shoulder.

"Don't be afraid to smile, hon. Everything here is yours, too."

He seems to embrace her with his eyes. They're heavy with longing, and gratitude. Too heavy to hold up. He looks back at the book cover blankly, curling up further into himself.

"We--I...am not afraid of you."

"I know," she whispers.

"You can talk to me about whatever you want. You know that, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. I don't want you to coop yourself up here because you don't wanna bother us or whatever."

"...I cannot just speak whenever I want to. Forgive me if I seem...ungrateful. The words stay in my head. Never become anything.

...But I feel. I feel...so much...and I...it is a stomachache. I have never been so full."

His voice cracks as he finishes, each word more deliberate than the last. She can feel the threads there too, making each letter longer and meatier, all of them held together by fleshy ropes of held hands that bloom from one palm to the next. She can't help but hug him, cradle his head into the crook of her neck. He shrinks into her.

"I wish I knew you when I was little. We could have played together. You'd have liked our farm. Lots of apples."

"Would have protected you."

"I know."

Then Dot blinks. She starts to ponder his tone, insistent and specific.

"From the wolves."

She flinches away from him. Fear stiffens his face, worried that he's scared her off for good.

"...How?"

He starts to take her hands, but stops before they touch, swallowing to ground himself and changing the look in his eyes to do what his hands cannot. Admirable, she thinks. An emotional maturity she truthfully, ignorantly, didn't think he possessed.

"...Things...are known to me. Other people's feelings. Their weaknesses, their strengths. Like they are on fire, and I can see it breathing around them. Changing color. Getting bigger, getting smaller."

Somehow, the explanation starts to comfort her. Thoroughly supernatural, delusionally magical, but an explanation, nonetheless.

"I...do not know why...but your fire..." He looks above and around her with reverence. A hand grazes the air for the proper words. "You...are the strongest. I can see you, hear you, have seen and heard you, from very far away. It came out at me when I--" He swallows again with discomfort, like he's tasting something bad. "--tried to hurt you. Gold, and black. After that, my head..." He knocks against his temple. "...pounded like there was another heart. And I learned that it was yours. You were everywhere."

Dot is not aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks until one drops onto her clasped hands. The wet sniffle that follows embarrasses her. Tigers don't cry.

"They tried to pay me to hurt you again. I was close-by, but I saw someone else's flame. I thought maybe I could try something else, try to ignore you. Hers...was liquid. Oozing around her in blue and gray, like ash. Her heartbeat reached out to me, too, but she did not know me. Not in this life." He taps the book cover with a sardonic wince-smile. "Once upon a time."

"Y-you know those things, too?"

"If I focus. Not very successful most of the time. But...this woman, she...when Munch was a boy, a very long time ago, she gave me water. And a potato from her garden. I was very sick. I had started to digest myself. But she gave me another chance. The water was clean. Not like water from the forest. And she washed the potato for me. Cut it up into small pieces. I did not expect her to know me now, but..."

But it still hurts, Dot thinks. Munch's face twists. His bottom lip trembles in that way again. She chooses not to acknowledge the fact that he seems to nod at her thoughts.

"She was killed...because of me. That...boy, that...creature, followed me and attacked her. I gave her money...for food. She went out...and I found her later, on the ground. Her head...cracked open--"

Munch hugs his legs, burying his face in his knees, rocking back and forth. A whine turns into an agonized groan, a child getting his first shot.

"Munch? Hey. Hey-hey-hey. No. No...look at me--Munch? Hon?" She starts to pry his arms apart, but they snap back to scratch at his scalp. She tries to force herself between his arms, but he begins to hit himself. "Don't do that, honey. Look at me." She clenches her belly instinctively, gathering the strength to fight his own, clawing at his shoulders and waist until she gets ahold of his wrists and worms her way in, and he eventually gives, hugging her back just as tightly, unloading what sounds like decades (centuries?) of pain and loss with the most ragged wheeze she's ever heard come out of a human being. Munch is tall, wiry, muscular in his thinness. He's all sharp edges and endless bony limbs, and yet the crooks of his joints melt into yarn. His hollow cheek squishes against her collarbone.

"Shh-sh-sh."

He cries so strangely, as if he's pulling a blade out of his diaphragm, and she shudders, not knowing what to do with all the blood. Closing her eyes tight, she flexes the muscles in her core again, breathes in, and relaxes, trying to make the words in her head as tangible as anything else in the room.

Can you hear me, hon? Can you feel me?

The next heavy breath is quieter, less abrasive on his throat.

They can't hurt us anymore. Its over.

Dot imagines the ribbons of her flame cloaking them both, binding them together.

You never have to be alone again. Just hold onto me.

They stay entwined for some time. Eventually, Dot weeps as well. There's a completeness here that she wouldn't be able to explain to anyone. Its not the way Wayne makes her feel, or what its like to comfort Scotty after a bad day at school. Its not a sexual or romantic fulfillment either -- couldn't be further from it. But Munch's skin and hair and even his stilted voice feel like her own. She thinks back to the vision of the boy in the field, recalling how similar he looked to her with his long hair and scabby knees, how their palms felt fused together.

"Can you read my mind, Munch?"

He sniffles. The fresh vulnerability in his voice, the way it rolls out with his head rested comfortably near her chest, makes her shiver. "...No. I feel people's intentions. Their emotions. I do not know what you are thinking. Just how you feel when you are thinking it.

Turn off the lights...for a moment."

"Yeah, sure." She reaches up for the lamp, surprised at how inky the darkness is at midday, even with the pulled curtains. Two faintly iridescent feline-like dots stare back at her. It takes her a second.

"This is what I am."

She can't hide the icy stab of fear that seizes her when Munch's voice matches them. Its immediately followed by viscous, acidic shame, then balmy fascination. In response, his cool hands slip into her own.

"...What happened?"

"...I've told you. I am very old. When Munch was a younger man, he would do anything not to starve. He would wait outside the houses of evil men, until they left or went to sleep. Then he would take their food. Most of the time, he would have to kill them. Learned to do it quietly after a while. When he was caught, he made a deal with the men in charge. He would live, but he would have to take on the sins of other men. When they died, bread and porridge were placed on their bodies. Prayers were said. Their sins were absorbed by the food. And we got to eat."

The ridiculousness of the ritual itself doesn't surprise Dot. She's never been a particularly religious woman and, after being with Roy, has not had much need to respect it.

"Many years. Many years. No one talks to us. They turn away or spit at our feet or throw things at us when we make ourselves known."

I would have killed them all, she thinks. Everyone in that damn village...or wherever he lived. The wives, the husbands, the kids. She doesn't care how unfair or cruel that sounds. Rage has been her friend longer than she's been a mother and wife. I would have fed them all to you.

Munch takes a moment to gather his thoughts. She remembers he can taste that bloodlust. This time, she doesn't feel exposed. The hair on the back of her neck bristles like a wartime cat.

"You are so angry for me," he says with a slight smile in his voice; part prideful, part touched, part in disbelief that someone could love him this much, or at all.

"I did kill them. The priests. The congregation. I finally got to watch them squirm, they way they did me. I ate the sins directly from their flesh, and got stronger each time."

Good, Dot thinks. Eat their eyes and lips and tongues and fingers. Everything they ever used to hurt you.

She blinks. Again, she is transported somewhere else entirely. The acrid funk of animal filth and poor hygiene is magnified by the flames licking the walls of the church. Someone knocked over a lantern in their scramble to escape, but the windows are too hot and broken to touch. The head priest lays shattered at her feet, screaming, his legs bent in unnatural directions. I'm saving you for last, she thinks. The moment the thought concludes, she lunges into the crowd, nails and teeth sinking into man, woman, whoever's unlucky enough to be caught. First come the layers of dirt and grime on their skin, but then the cartilaginous crunch of flesh and muscle, the savory salt of their blood and tears seasoning their meat, the pungent sour of their terror. Never has her stomach felt so empty, but so prepared. It roars, and she roars louder, her insides the sacred halls of a king, and her voice a war horn.

How much of this rage is his? How much of it is mine? Is there a difference anymore? Does it matter?

She jumps from one member to the next indistinctively. A cheek, a nose, a throat. The tendons of someone's hand as they try to push her off. Eyeballs snap in her mouth like fresh berries. Someone's brain matter smashes against the stone wall like a boiled yam. They all come apart with the ease of slow-cooked pork. She never realized how soft and tender human beings were. The blur of the slaughter starts to come into focus once the priest is truly defenseless, with no one to hide behind. His skin crackles with blisters from the heat, while she remains very much unscathed. Instead, the flames seem to coax her, comforting her with loving, delicate fingers. Mama. She starts with his arms, chewing into the muscle. The skin peels away like chicken fat. Her fingers easily sink into the priest's thighs, then his sternum. At some point, he'd finally screamed his throat raw, the only sound coming from him now the dumb, pained braying of dying cattle. She rolls the eyeballs around in her mouth, tracing the veins and residual tails of flesh with her tongue before swallowing them whole. Finally, she gets to the heart. Its rewardingly tough. The chambers are gummy. She giggles as they bounce against her molars almost playfully. A floodgate is opened, and the laughter is in full bloom. Mama's tickles don't help.

"Dot. Dewch yn ôl ataf. Fy chwaer fach."

She's back home. The air is crisp and clean. Munch is cupping her face, their foreheads touching. The edges of her mouth are sore from the laughter, and the feast.

"I did not mean for it to go that far."

"No, no. It's okay. It was...fun. I'm so proud of ya, hon."

"Dot. You must look at me."

"Munch, I'm fine. I swear."

Dot's eyes immediately sting when the lamp is switched back on. She admittedly feels a little less rabid. He looks down in shame.

"I only meant to share my memory. Not have you participate in it."

"You think I haven't felt that angry? You don't think I would have done that to Roy if I had the chance?"

"No. Did not mean it like that. I just...you have had enough inflicted upon you. Including myself."

"You can't do mind control, can you? Takin' over other people's thoughts?"

"I cannot."

"So? You didn't inflict anything on me. You wanted me to see through your eyes for a little. And if you can't control me, you can't pull me into your head against my will. I wanted to be there."

"...It was still a painful memory. I do not want to see you in pain."

"You told me before you weren't scared of me. What's so scary about you that doesn't already exist in me?"

He takes one of her hands, petting the back softly. She acquieses.

"...You would not say that if you knew how old I am."

"Try me."

A heavy pause. Then he looks up.

"...The memory you saw happened almost five hundred years ago."

It is, truthfully, shocking. But for some reason, Dot doesn't feel it. Maybe she will later. But if nothing about it stirs her now, she doubts it ever will.

"Stranger things have happened."

Munch cocks his head to the side. She caresses his cheek with her knuckles.

"I'm still proud of ya. You're the one who said you'd have protected me when I was little. Would you have helped me tear Roy into little pieces?"

"...I would."

"Well, there ya go."

Dot gets an idea. An image of Roy splayed out upside down on their old bed, spread-eagle. Munch is mounting him like a woman, kitchen knives buried deep in each pectoralis. Munch's lips and eyes are peeled back, his pupils shrunken to feral pinheads, his overcrowded, nicotine-tarnished teeth resembling fangs. Dot is at the foot of the bed with a toothy knife of her own, carving into Roy's neck. He splutters and gurgles stupidly as they bathe in his blood. She can see the inner meat of his throat snapping apart with each slice. Munch is hissing profanities in Welsh, riling her up enough that she abandons the knife halfway and starts to pull, slamming one foot flat against the edge of the bed for purchase. The sensation of her muscles digging as deep as anatomically possible for every ounce of strength she can muster is as exhilirating as it is exhausting. Her teeth clench so hard she thinks they might break. Her howls of effort erupt behind her eyes and billow into her brain. Roy's head finally snaps free, and she back to reality. Munch's eyes, aglow with encouragement, bore into her own.

"Some of that was you, ya know. On account of the Welsh."

He tries smiling again. "You knew it was Welsh."

"Only because you were in there with me." She taps the tip of his nose.

This was always me, you see, she thinks. This is what they made me. Its not evil or poisonous. They already showed their true colors when they sold me to keep the farm. When he touched me for the first time. When my menses was late. When he'd break and rebreak my bones after talking back. Everything I did, everything I became since then, was to protect myself. To survive. Just like you. And look at us now. We found each other. Against all odds. Against time itself.

She giggles as Munch rubs his forehead against hers like a cat. He raises her wrists against his eyes in veneration.

"C'mere, you." She pulls him in for another long hug, stroking his hair.

"Maybe you could teach me how to speak Welsh sometime."

"I have never taught anyone anything. I might not be good at it."

"Then we both can learn something. For example; what did you call me before?"

"Fy chwaer fach. My little sister."

#fargo fx #dot lyon #ole munch #idk if the Welsh is accurate #dont tag as ship

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lily-orchard · 8 hours

Note

Fandom's perception of "normal sibling bickering" is really warped, likely because of people who don't have siblings and people who have bad relationships with theirs keep spreading it.

I have a younger brother and I'd say our relationship is pretty good now that I'm no longer an angsty teenager blaming a small child for our parents behavior, and I can confirm that there's a massive difference between play fighting and an *actual* fight, but fandom treats them both the same.

"Play fighting" is shit like me booping him on the nose when I pass him by the stairs, him flicking water on me after washing his hands, racing to get home first so you can close the door on the losers face, wrestling on the couch and moving to the floor when the dogs want to join. It DOES NOT involve screaming, saying things that are meant to hurt or hurting each other on purpose.

And while we never cuddled my brother recently got over his "my family is lame and I don't want to hang out with them" phase, so we've been bonding over video games and can go to each other for hugs when school shit happens or our parents decide to be dicks again.

I'm all for more positive siblings relationships in media, even when we get siblings who don't completely hate each other they usually don't interact a lot and don't even feel like friends nevermind siblings.

Like I said before, I went down a rabbit hole recently of some of the worst examples of "Are The Straights Okay" and a combination of the sheer overwhelming presence of "It's normal to hate your siblings" as well as people looking anyone who suggests otherwise and going "That's suspicious!" is really rotting people's brains.

I saw someone claim that hugging your sibling for longer than 10 seconds was an example of "too close." Another person claimed even just saying "I love you" to a sibling was an example of "too close."

Hell, you know what got that Folgers commercial the reputation it has? It was the sister basically saying "I missed you, I'm glad you're home." That was about it.

It is fucking absurd how normalized abuse is and how demonized affection is.

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peppenispizza · 1 year

Text

closed

(no warnings! fluffy cute stuff!)

peppino waved goodbye to gustavo and brick, locking the doors after them. he rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment before letting out a giant sigh and going into the kitchen to make sure everything was off. this place was his pride and joy, sure, but hell was it also stressful.

he dragged his hands down his face and let out a weird, frustrated grunt before going back to the stairs that lead to his living area, where you were waiting for him. you were staring at some crappy commercial on an old tv screen, wearing one of his old t-shirts before you noticed him and scooted into the middle of your shared pull-out couch bed. seeing you in one of his shirts always made him feel warm inside.

“You alright?” you asked, already knowing how he felt. he appreciated you asking, anyway. He let out a sigh as he sat down on the edge of the bed, making you bounce a bit.

“I’m-a alright. At least that-a idiot Noise didn’t-a come in today.” He said, peeling off his work shirt, pants and socks. he would always shower in the morning, and you never really minded how sweaty he was. Peppino got up and grabbed his loose fitting pj pants he wore to bed and yanked them on before climbing in next to you. he usually never bothered with a shirt anymore, you steal most of them.

“Did you have a nice-a day?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you and gently tugging you towards him with a tired smile.

“Eh, I guess. Nothing really happened. Noisette and I hung out for a bit.” you responded, scootching up next to him. He let out a hum, and gave you a series of small, sugary kisses on the lips like he did every night in bed.

“What’s-a on the tv...?” He asked, already nodding off. He always fell asleep minutes after climbing into bed with you; Regardless of the television, like clockwork. He was out like a light and snoring softly.

It was cute. You chuckled a bit before snuggling up to his side, his arm automatically wrapping around you even in his sleep. You nuzzled your face into his neck and your hand onto his hairy chest. You always kept the television on while you two slept, on low volume. You both kind of liked it that way.

You both slept better next to each other. As usual.

#peppino spaghetti x reader #peppino x reader #pizza tower x reader #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #sorry i had to fix a thing.#speak boy!#peppifics

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babybratzmaraj · 15 days

Text

Fairytale Part 2: unappreciated

Starring: Yourrage as Javion Davis

You as Yourself

Summary: After a week of being a assistant for Javion, you weren’t shit but exhausted, you just might’ve reached your breaking point. Until…

Warnings: contains foul language, dual povs, sexual content, drug and alcohol use (teehee) brief arguments (and by argument its just {REDACTED}

A/N: brainrot! im loving this series suarrr much, this is the chapter i said we will be whores on but IT WILL BURN SLOWLY AFTER THIS😭 my mind went other places, hope you enjoy this one, like comment n reblog fa mo!

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair

You had your AirPods on blasting your usual playlist, Slow Down by Bobby V. had your hips swaying like Ava from Abbott Elementary

💫Slow down, I just wanna get to know you. But don't turn around, 'Cause that pretty round thing looks good to me. Slow down, Never seen anything so lovely Now turn around And bless me with your beauty, cutie💫

You had Jay’s stream on your iPad while your music played off your phone, tapping on the right one in your ear to pause your music, you tuned in to hear his stream. He was reacting to Like That by Metro Boomin, Future, and Kendrick Lamar, and man did he love it, you heard his screams of excitement from the kitchen, you resumed your music, glad one of yall were having a good week.

It hasn’t been a full week and you were stressed the fuck out, and he did not make it better not one bit. Most days were sane and stable because Shanae was there, but on the days she had to go see her OB/GYN? felt like a badass kid in a store. The responses grew colder, he did not listen and he avoided you every chance he got, if it wasn't for the dispensary G hooked you up on, you would have been lost your shit.

You took a hit of your pen and tucked it back in your bra, washing the dishes that were left in the sink by the residents of the house.

Call it your inner mama, but cleaning with some nice music always destressed you, the dishes piled up more since you got here and it’s been bugging you every time you ask him to wash them and he completely ignores you. You reached your breaking point but you refuse to back down now, mama ain't raise no bitch!

You paused your music just in time to listen to Javion give his opinion on the song: “I fuck with all parties involved, but Drake ain’t gone do shit, Cole waiting to drop his response because we know that nigga strategic with his shit. Actually, My nigga Cole caught a stray if you think about it.”

“On god he did! My nigga Jermaine ain't do shit!” you yelled at the screen as if he could hear you, which he and his chat did.

“‘Who the fuck was that?’ Yo mama. I was banging her and she making me breakfast as we speak nigga.” He clapped back at a commenter, making you chuckle.

You felt somewhat happy that he took your defense in a way, even after all of these days he's been ignoring you, you take what you can get from the little shit.

You ignored the rest of the stream as you resumed your music again, returning your focus to the dishes still in the sink, putting some elbow grease into these dishes.

He put his stream on a commercial break to stretch his legs, thinking of a nice but not too-nice way to tell you to keep it down. Javion didn’t inform his followers that he would be having a new assistant/manager, so as of right now, you were a private residence.

He walked out of his room to hear pots and pans and plates clanging around, growing more concerned about what you were doing.

Jogging down the stairs, the closer he got, the more he realized you were doing the dishes, the smell of green apple dawn dish soap and bleach smacking his nostrils.

“Damn!” He shouted fanning his nose, “Smell like you down here cleaning a murder scene.” His comment fell on ghost’s ears as he couldn’t see your airpods.

He shook his head as he examined his newly washed dishes, he hadn’t seen any of these plates in weeks, so he picked up one to see his reflection with no problem.

“OH bashota,” he heard you breathe, turning his head to see you leaning forward clenching your heart. “Youn know how to make yourself known?” you questioned him while tapping your chest, “Giving a nigga heart palpitations.”

“I said some ‘bout a murder scene, you ain't hear that?” He sat the plate down on the sink, staring directly into your eyes.

You threw a face at him before removing an airpod, his eyebrows raising from realization. “My bad, didn’t know you was listening to something.”

“I’s forgives you massa, I’ll keeps it down.” you joked, making him smile a bit showing you his pearly whites.

“Thank you. save that pretty voice for the party tonight.” he softly hit your shoulder before turning around and walking back up the stairs.

Shit. With all the management shit and runarounds and cleaning you've been doing, you completely forgot about the party in a few hours for his 100k subscribers that he hit two days into your stay and he had to celebrate it, by throwing a house party.

You stared at the outfit you had on the bed, still trying to figure out if you were going to hide yourself in your room or force yourself to be the social butterfly you wished you were.

You bit the corner of your bottom lip, staring at your phone and then the fit. Sighing a big irked sigh, you facetimed your best friend, praying that she answered the phone.

The phone swooped and there was Megan, propping her phone on the counter chopping up onions, “What’s it to ya toots?”

“Fashion meeting pretty princess.” You propped your phone on the nightstand.

“At your service Bunny boo, what's the problem?”

“My outfit for this damn party tonight,” you rubbed your temple, “I’m afraid it's too boring.”

“Throw it on and let me decipher,” she asked politely.

You took off your hoodie and basketball shorts for the planned-out outfit, you tipped your glasses up the bridge of your nose and zipped up the jacket before stepping back into the frame.

She gave you a look before tossing the diced onions in a bowl, “Bitch don’t piss me off, I like this fit.”

“You do?” you gave yourself a once over, snapping your neck around to the mirror behind you.

“Yes, Plus who gives a fuck what the fuck you look like? It’s not they problem nor job to deal with it.” she said waving the knife around, “And if they gotta mu’fuckin problem widdit, tell 'em to give you some money!”

“Money makes the world go around.”

“All around town.” she finished, dragging all of her words making you both giggle.

“What are you even making? cutting up veggies n shit like you Gordan Ramsey.”

“I'm making me some breakfast.” she answered, pouring the egg mixture into the skillet.

“It’s 7:48 pm.” You reminded her, causing her head to jerk to the side.

“Mother if you don’t get off my phone! I is a grown-up!”

“A grown-up who probably left a piece of shell in the eggs.”

“Bye Felicia!” she hung up the phone, probably proving your point.

You chuckled and grabbed your phone, walking out of your room to hear Shanae and G having their usual bickering session, because, of course, he didn’t get the other chicken option.

You laughed to yourself, prepping your mind to tell your boss he needs to start getting ready and head downstairs. ‘Hey Jay, get ya clothes on, party starts in 10’. You rehearsed multiple times approaching his door.

You fuckin hated talking to him, not because he’s a bad person, he's great with others but shit with you, you just couldn’t understand why the fuck he resents you so much.

Kicking your nerves in the ass, you opened the door to him fully dressed and ready for the party, his room smelling like nothing but toothpaste and cologne fresh off of a Macy's commercial. “What?”

“I see you ready, so you gotta head downstairs in 5 minutes to help them with how you want everything.”

“They know how I like shit, they don’t need me or you,” He shot at you, your heart dropping into your stomach.

The way he spat his response just made you tear up, the coldness making you anxiously hot.

“Ok but still,”

“But still nothing, they don’t need me. You dismissed.” He waved you off, heating your face up to the point hell couldn’t even compete with you.

“You know the fuck what,” you finally snapped, having enough of his shit. “You wanna act like a fuckin’ female? Be my fuckin’ guest, but you ain't finna snap on me like I’m some fuckin pussy ass bitch.”

The weight that came off your shoulders was so relieving, but you weren’t done. “After this fuckin party? I QUIT! I won’t be your assistant, We both can enjoy this party, I’ll go home after. Everyone Wins! So fuck you, Jay.”

You slammed the door walking down the stairs to Shanae and Gerald's eyes bugged out like they just walked in on two people doing drugs. “Let’s go get that chicken G.” You insisted, after all, it was your last day being an assistant to this household.

You walked out of the house into the Dallas heat and it distracted you from the tears that came, your face becoming sticky and wet from the salty tears. “You Good?” G asked, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Just ready to enjoy my time.”

You stood in the corner with a red cup with your drink and a blunt intertwined with your fingers. You didn’t smoke anything besides a pen inside the house out of respect but that went out the window, plus other niggas were doing it too so boohoo.

You bopped your head to the music, You hired a DJ but you gave him some songs to play and you smiled when the song you chose played, happily sipping on your drink.

Shanae waved you over to the food table with two freshly manicured fingers mouthing something to you but you couldn’t make out what, you were a little crossfaded with the music blasting right in your ear.

After the blowup you had, You and G went shopping for drinks and you took it as a chance to buy some Russian Cream Backwoods, almost fighting G who battled with you to pay for your stuff, he won the battle when he sipped the cashier his card when you went to get other snacks.

You took one long last inhale before putting out your blunt, exhaling, you put your blunt behind your ear like a pencil.

She pulled you into a hug, rocking you both side to side, “I know he being an asshole love,” She said a little louder to compete with the music. “Do not let him fuck up your mood, enjoy this party and enjoy your time.” she broke the hug to rub your arms with her thumbs, “We will talk about this in the morning when we had enough rest and everyone is calmer.”

You smiled to hide the fact you were almost brought to tears. You had been brought to tears at the fact that someone didn’t see you as the villain, that you weren’t automatically the bad guy for standing up for yourself.

You mouthed her a sweet thank you and returned her hug with a sweeter one. “I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be back down in 10 minutes.”

She nodded and pointed to the one upstairs. The bottom one was for the guest and the residents used the upstairs one, you were glad she reminded you because you were crossfaded as fuck.

You sat down your cup and grooved up the stairs walking past your room which you locked. Glad you did, not because of people, just to keep you calm and not have one of those paranoid highs.

You finally reached the bathroom and closed the door behind you, staring at yourself in the mirror, you finally let everything out. The tears, the little curses turned into sounds of tiny wails of exhaustion, and your legs buckled but you found the support of the sink keeping you up and your feet grounded, everything you had kept from this week was coming out and it felt fuckin amazing.

You breathed short breaths until your breathing regulated, wishing you had your cup with you to drown out your sadness, you just had a blunt behind your ears which you forgot about till now.

The door opened and you quickly turned towards the wall that faced away from the door, not letting who even walked in see you weak, you hated that shit.

“You crying?” Javion asked, sounding genuinely concerned, which had you stuck. He never sounded like that towards you, which made you cry harder.

You yelped as you felt his hands pick you up as if you were as light as a baby and set you on the sink, his deep brown eyes searching for something in yours. You both were silent. No words, no movement, not even someone else to ruin the moment, just words being exchanged through eyes and all you could see were apologies and worriment.

He cupped your face in his big soft hands, rubbing away your tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” he repeated his apologies, resting his head on yours.

He wrapped his muscular arms around you as he sunk his head into the crook of your neck, rocking you both side to side, and you finally saw what you've been yearning for, been wanting to experience from him, been craving for him to be towards you, caring and loving.

“Please don’t leave, I didn’t mean it.” he begged

“You can just treat me like shit and just expect me to stay loving,” you managed to say through your tears, choking up on your words. “Breathe then speak.” He rubbed your back slowly, giving small pats in between.

You finally returned his hug, throwing your arms around his neck. You felt at ease, relieved that you two were not enemies anymore, happy that you two were having a moment, a moment you two can look back at and smile at.

He broke the hug and returned his gaze to yours, his eyes now not as heavy as before. You smiled at his face, feeling your face heated up. You felt like you were on a cloud, a goddess looking at her perfectly built god, his smile growing wider than yours, felt like you were dreaming this whole thing. “Am I dreaming?”

“This ain’t a mu’fuckin’ dream.” He smiled, locking the door beside him. You caught him looking at your lips while he licked his, “Do sum,” and he did, crashing his lips onto yours. You tasted his cherry chapstick on your mango lip gloss with a hint of Tequila. he removed your gray jacket and tossed it on the floor, returning his arms back around your body.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the weed, but what you did know? you were kissing your boss and you didn’t give a fuck, guilt can settle in tomorrow morning.

The attraction you had for him before you took this position all came rushing back, the days you’d wish you can just see what he felt inside of you just made your pussy flutter, his voice was the cherry on top, you just knew he could talk you through it.

“Stay with me,” He spoke between kisses, picking you up off the sink making you tighten your grip around his neck.

“Jay!” You shrieked, grabbing onto him and he chuckled, pissing you off a little.

It ticked you but made you happier than a kid in a candy store that he was able to pick you up, you've been a big girl all your life and we’re jealous that you weren’t going able to experience shit skinny girls do, but Javion debunked your insecurities by carrying you to his room, closing the door with his foot and locking it.

He set you on the bed, standing back up to remove his beige satin pants while you removed yours, thanking god you didn’t wear granny panties tonight.

Smiling at each other with lust-filled glares, he returned on top of you, placing kisses on your neck while he slowly pressed his bulge against your wetness. “Don’t leave me,” He moaned onto your neck, hooking your legs on his shoulders as he dragged you to the edge of the bed, continuing his steady pace.

His gold chain dangled in your face as he rocked his hips into you, your moans filled the air and covered the room corner to corner, wall to wall, he just felt amazing, making you wonder what the real thing would be like.

“Fuck,” you moaned grabbing the back of your legs while he leaned in between your legs, giving you lazy sloppy kisses, his tongue desperately searching for yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he flipped you two over so that you were now on top, he laid his back down on the bed so that now you were in control, and that was all that you needed.

You rested your hands on his chest to steady yourself, breathing a shaky breath, you rocked your hips in a circle, feeling his member press into your wet entrance which boosted the little demon that sat on your right shoulder.

“Use me,” He growled, “Use me like the good little whore you are.” and you did, quickening your pace almost spelling words on his thick member.

“Fuckkk,” You both hissed in unison, his hand repeatedly smacking your ass leaving pleasurable stings of pain on each cheek when you felt something form in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m finna cum, baby girl.” He gripped your hips and moved your lower half with his to match his pace, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, “Use me,” you threw back at him.

He moaned lowly, searching for your hands as he intertwined his fingers with yours. You rested your head on his chest as your legs started to shake uncontrollably, moaning into each other's ears as he rutted into you through each other's orgasms.

“Ou, Fuck!” you shook for a few minutes until you went completely numb, twitching whenever you felt him twitch as well.

The room that was once filled with moans was silent, with nothing but asymmetrical breathing and the bass from the music down below, you giggled loosely as he rubbed your back to bring you back to reality.

You couldn’t lie, that was the best sex-but-not-actual-sex you had in a while, didn’t even think you could do all of that but you did, and it felt good as fuck, even if it was with your boss.

You two stayed in the same position for however many minutes passed by, his chest rising and falling underneath you.

“You good?” he asked, checking his Apple watch.

“I am now.”

“Good, because I was due for a speech 20 minutes ago.” he swiftly reminded you that there was a party going on downstairs.

“SHIT!” you jumped off him and scurred to find your pants, sobering up little by little. “Why didn’t you say shit?”

“They coulda waited, they waited this much.” he smirked, raising up to pull his pants to his knees.

“Besides the point! An assistant is supposed to keep you on trac- Where is my jacket?”

“In the bathroom.”

“See! This is why I need to get sat in a corner.” you sighed before rushing out of the room to the bathroom.

He calmly walked down the stairs, immediately getting dragged by Shanae to the party area, “I’m kick yo fuckin ass, you better give this speech and hope ion kick yo skinny scrawny ass into the next eclipse.” She threatened with a smile on her face like she did this shit one too many times, and she did, it’ll be your turn soon.

She scooted him into the living room and signaled to the DJ to tone down the music, as the DJ obliged, he passed off the microphone to Jay, his smile waved across his face as he tried to find some words.

“Ian gone lie, I don’t know what the fuck to say,” The room erupted in laughter, it was very on brand for him to just blurt shit, one of the things that made him relatable and loved.

“I do want to thank the folks who followed me, this whole shit wouldn’t have even been possible without y’all. My mama, for believing in a nigga, and not kickin’ my ass out.” he nervously chuckled. “Her brother, My uncle. He ain't a man of many words, just don’t give that nigga a Budweiser and we good!” He joked with scattered laughter as a reaction. “My best friend, who I owe my whole career to,”

He zoned out until he met with your eyes, fighting a smile which he ended up losing very badly while waving you over. “And to my new assistant, who I can’t wait to share many memories with and hopefully won’t leave my ass with the coyotes.” The room stared at you along with him and gave you an applause, mouthing the words ‘We forever.’ while nobody was looking at him.

He watched you slowly approach him, shyly waving at the applauding audience. As you reached the spot next to him, he threw his arm around you, scooting you closer to him you could almost taste the cologne he reapplied before walking back down into the party.

“Thank you all, please, enjoy yall selves for the rest of the party, and don't fuck up my shit.” he ended, setting the mic on the DJ booth, scooping you away from the people of the party, away from the attention that could be drawn to you two.

“You good?” He asked, facing you towards him with his back to the crowd.

“I’m horny, high, and ready to sleep, what do you think I am?”

“One of my elite employees!” he jokingly smiled making you burst out of laughter, not caring if anyone heard you at this point. “They still want this meeting tomorrow, do you still want to go through with it?” He checked in on you, reminding you of your blowup which you wish you didn’t have, but if you didn’t, none of this would be happening.

“Yes, we just have to set shit straight, no bullshit, just gonna get it over with, and man you look sexy in this lighting,” you confessed, a chuckle leaving both of yall’s lips. “Go enjoy yourself, you can have a piece of me in the morning.” he rubbed your back, smiling at you, closing your eyes while you licked your lips.

“I’ma go get some punch, I’ll see you around boss.” you tapped his chest as you walked away, not turning around as he stared holes in each spot of your body. He shook his head and smiled, he was ready for what adventure god would throw at him, as long as you were by his side.

#fairytale♥️#yourrage x black!reader #yourrage fics #yourrage x black reader #told by bratz #Spotify

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brainfuzzz · 1 year

Text

Becoming A Pirate Ch. 1 "I Promise."

AU where the East, South, West, and Noth Blue is land masses all connected by the Grand Line. Luffy goes to a Naval Academy to follow in Shank's footsteps with the goal to become the pirate king. Crocodile and Dragon are married, Whitebeard is Crocodile's dad/Luffy's grandpop. Shakky is a warlord so that Boa can be a student. Robin and Franky are going to be the same age as the others. Happier timeline in AU.

This was 100% inspired by the noodle commercial.

Having the ability to sleep through virtually anything is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a trait shared by his father and grandfather that was unfortunately inherited down to Luffy. In his 17 years of life, he’s discovered many sounds that fail to wake him from his deep slumber: the wind, heavy thunderstorms, distant gun shots, loud vehicles speeding past his house, his parents yelling after losing him at the park, his grandpa yelling after losing him on a hike, his brothers yelling after losing him on a different hike, and pretty much all public transportation. His alarm, unfortunately, is also among these sounds. So, on the one day that Luffy had actually planned on getting up early… he sleeps in.

Luffy doesn’t jump out of bed, but rather flings himself from the mattress. Unfortunately, he does this headfirst, so instead of potentially landing on his feet, he instead falls face first onto the hardwood floor. He hits hard causing the small house to shake.

“What was that?” His dad calls from downstairs.

Luffy fumbles towards his nightstand for his phone. It’s nearly 7:30. He runs an aggravated hand through his messy hair and shouts, “Nothing!”

In a mad dash to get ready, he scrambles to his dresser and grabs his brand new uniform that his pa had neatly laid out the night before. He tugs the stiff itchy fabric over his head while simultaneously shoving legs into perfectly ironed pants. Once clothed he pauses to glance at his reflection in the cracked full body mirror hanging on the closet door. His uniform is already covered in wrinkles thanks to his hurry to get dressed, but other than that it’s fine. Afterall, Luffy has never been one to care about wrinkles. His pa on the other hand might strangle him. The uniform itself is a near copy of the marine uniform except on the back it has NA in large blue letters. Luffy can’t help but wrinkle his nose at the thought of wearing a marine uniform, but eventually he lets it go and crosses over to his nightstand to pick up his straw hat. He stares at it for a long moment, letting distant memories echo in his mind. He gives a small grin and places it on his head.

The floorboards on the stairs creak under his feet until he skips the last two steps, hopping to the first floor. He takes an immediate right into the kitchen where Dragon is setting a large plate of bacon on the table that is already piled with food.

Dragon glances up at Luffy and frowns with an arched brow, “How did you already wrinkle it? Your pa isn’t going to be happy.”

“I tried keeping it pressed but,” Before he’s even fully seated at the table, Luffy is stuffing his face. When he swallows his large bite he says, “I woke up late.”

Dragon chuckles with the shake of his head while leaning against the small island separating the dining room and the kitchen. “You have less than 30 minutes to make it there you know? If you’re lucky your pa will get up soon and take you.”

Luffy swallows another large mouthful of eggs, bacon, and bread, “No thanks. I don’t wanna be the only one being dropped off by his parents.”

Dragon rolls his eyes with a shrug and turns to walk around the island. The floorboards in the hall creak as his other father, Crocodile, steps into the kitchen. He’s holding up two ascots with a serious expression.

“Which one of these looks best?” he holds them up more as Dragon glances over his shoulder.

“The right one.” Dragon turns back to the dishes. Crocodile fastens his ascot around his collar before sitting next to Luffy. He eyes him suspiciously before frowning deeper.

“How did you manage to already wrinkle your uniform?” his pa turns in his chair making escape impossible. Luffy darts his eyes away and stuffs a pancake into his mouth using it as an excuse to not answer. Crocodile pinches Luffy’s ear, “Like having a full mouth has ever stopped you from talking before!”

Luffy continues to stuff his mouth in a nervous habit and says, “’mm ‘ory!”

Crocodile rests back in his chair with an exhausted sigh, “I should just be glad it made it through the night.”

Dragon slides a cup of coffee towards Crocodile and a glass of milk to Luffy. They both sip it graciously as Dragon sits on Luffy’s other side with a cup of coffee of his own. He passes Crocodile a copy of today’s newspaper and before long they both drift into their usual morning silence. Soon the only sounds are of the birds chirping outside the kitchen window, the windchime over the back deck, and Luffy’s obsessive chewing. After one last large bite, Luffy gets up from his chair.

“See ya!” He starts for the door making his parents put their papers down.

“If you let me finish my coffee, I’ll take you.” Crocodile says by the time Luffy has reached the front door.

“Nah!” Luffy calls back as he slips on his sandals.

“Have a nice day and be safe!” Dragon is calling by the time Luffy has swung open the front door and stepping out into the morning sun.

Luffy and his parents live in a small 2 story home that sits on a hill overlooking the wide open ocean. Down the grassy hill following a winding dirt road is his grandpa’s house only a few feet from the oceanside cliff. The only other people who live this far from Foosha village is Dadan and her mountain bandits, making this their own private quiet peace of paradise. Luffy stares out at the watery horizon, picturing himself setting sail just like his older brothers did. But just as he’s about to let himself get swept away in his daydream, his phone buzzes, reminding him of how late he already is. He shakes his head and starts running down the road to the tunnel of trees and towards Foosha Village.

Foosha Village is a small town based in the Goa district of the East Blue. There are four major territories known as the East Blue, the South Blue, the West Blue, and the North Blue. And in these territories are districts ruled by kings or some other higher ranking official, depending on its size. And within those districts are small towns like Foosha Village. By the time Luffy makes his way out of the tunnel of trees, he can spot the bus already waiting at the edge of town. Luffy takes a deep breath and charges full speed. Luckily there’s a line waiting to board, giving him some time to catch his breath.

“Luffy? What are you doing here so early?”

Luffy lifts his head to find Makino smiling at him. He returns her smile and says, “It’s my first day at the academy.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Makino starts reaching into her bag to retrieve a box and hands it to him. “I meant to give you this the last time I saw you. It’s a congratulations gift from me and the mayor. We’re rooting for you!”

Luffy rubs the back of his neck with a slight blush. “You didn’t have to Makino.”

“Nonsense, I know how much it means to you. Good luck on becoming a pi—” She stops herself before leaning in closer and whispering, “Good luck on becoming a pirate!”

By now its Luffy’s turn to board the bus. He steps up onto the first step and gives her a big grin, “I’m not just gonna become a great pirate, I’m gonna become the king of the pirates!”

Makino gives a nervous laugh as a few bystanders flinch at Luffy’s words. But before anything else can be said, the bus doors close and soon Foosha Village is in the distance.

The ride to the Goa district capital is a long and peaceful drive over slightly bumpy dirt roads and small bridges. They pass by countless windmills, rice fields, large pastures filled with cattle, and different thick forests that provide shade from the morning sun. But even with the calm of the quiet bus, Luffy can feel his excitement growing. He glances down at his phone. Illuminating on his cracked phone screen over a picture of him, Ace, and Sabo from the last summer they worked on his grandpop’s ship is two messages—one from each of his brothers.

Luffy, try not to cry on your first day! – Ace

Don’t listen to anything Ace told you. You’ll do great. – Sabo

And then,

But also, don’t cry on your first day. – Sabo

Luffy snorts a laugh and sends them both the middle finger emoji before sliding his phone back in his pocket. Luffy has been waiting for this day for a long time. While it might not be setting sail on a ship of his own, it is the first major stepping stone to becoming a pirate. The Marine Naval Academy is one of the most elite schools you can get into. They promote themselves by highlighting all the successful marines that have come out of it. But what they don’t promote is all the successful pirates that have gone there too. Among them are both his parents—a famous warlord and revolutionary—and both his brothers. But more importantly, Gol D. Roger graduated from the academy and went on to become king of the pirates. Luffy rests his head back against the old leather bus seat and stares at the edge of his straw hat.

Shanks went there too.

His thoughts are interrupted when the bus comes to a stop. The Goa capital surrounds the bus with its tall building and paved streets. Luffy can’t get off fast enough. He can’t remember a time he’s been so happy to be in the capital. Usually, he only comes to cause trouble with Ace and Sabo. But today he’s just passing through. Because at the end of the capital is a long tunnel that leads to the Grand Line.

Luffy runs down the street, making a few people jump away afraid that he might run them over in his hurry. The semi empty streets slowly begin to fill as he soon finds himself joining the morning commute through the tunnel. A large fence separates the people walking and those lucky enough to have a vehicle. Luffy wonders absently while shoulder to shoulder with the dense crowd if one of the cars going by is his pa. While Luffy stares at the cars driving past, light beams in his eye, pulling his attention away as the tunnel opens up to the Grand Line.

The Grand Line is a massive city that stretches along the large land mass that connects the 4 territories. Unlike the East Blue with wide open spaces, easy country sides, and green as far as the eye can see, the Grand Line is almost entirely city. Tall skyscrapers that seemingly stretch all the way to the sky sprout nearly everywhere. The roads are filled with heavy traffic while the streets are always bursting with thick crowds. There are countless of water ways for the mermaids and fishmen along with those who travel by yagara. Overhead in the airways people drive bon chari’s or ride flying fish. Luffy crosses a bridge over a water lane as a large screen displays one of Uta’s new songs from her new album. A little further down he sees a store promoting Doflamingo’s new line of sunglasses while on the other side of the street he notices a large cutout of Moria Gecko promoting his line of stuffed toys.

Luffy rolls his eyes. The warlords are supposed to be serious pirates pardoned by the marines to help balance the powers of the 4 emperors. But more often than not, he sees them promoting a new business or brand they’ve signed on with. While waiting at a crosswalk he notices a screen in a shop window showcasing his pa’s casino. A small group of girls stop to admire his pa’s looks. Luffy makes a face and turns away.

When he finally reaches the train that should take him to the academy, Luffy’s unable to sit still. He shifts his weight from side to side while constantly checking the time on his phone. His brothers messaged him back but he’s too antsy to even read them. He drags his fingers down his face in impatient frustration when he notices a girl bump into a man a few feet away from him. The girl looks about his age with short orange hair. She smiles and apologizes to the man but when she turns to do so, he sees her reach into the man’s pocket and pull out his wallet. When the girl turns to walk away, their eyes meet. She pauses for a moment before lifting a finger to her lips and giving him a wink with a smile. When someone steps between them and moves out of the way again, she’s gone.

Luffy stares at the spot where the girl had been until the train pulls up and opens its doors. He steps into the train and manages to steal a seat. He plops down and pats his hands on his knees, starting to realize for the first time just how uncomfortable this uniform really is. He tugs at the handkerchief around his collar while tapping his foot. When the train finally starts moving, a new surge of excitement bursts through his chest making it impossible to stop smiling.

“Ugh, how can he sleep like that in a public space?” a woman hisses near him. Luffy lifts his head to see her whispering angrily to her friend. He follows their gaze to a green haired boy sitting a few seats down with his head tilted all the way back, mouth open, manspreading, and snoring louder than his dad Dragon. Luffy leans forward when he realizes the boy is wearing a Naval Academy uniform. He opens his mouth to call out to him when he realizes that if he’s asleep he probably won’t hear him. So instead, he rests back against the hard bus seat letting out a disappointed puff of air.

The train comes to a slow stop before it reaches Luffy’s destination. Luffy lets out another puff of air while watching people exit and enter the train. Further down, the boy sleeping snorts awake and leans forward on his knees. He rubs the back of his neck with a yawn and gets to his feet. Luffy watches the boy slowly exit the train in a groggy shuffle. Luffy finds himself standing and stepping off the train just before the doors close. The boy grumbles some sleepy words while blinking away the last of his sleep.

“Hey,” Luffy says startling the boy.

“Where the hell did you come from?” the boy yells with one hand darting down to the three swords hanging from his waist.

“You’re going to the Naval Academy, right?” Luffy points to his uniform.

The boy frowns with a raised brow, “So what if I am?”

“So, why’d you get off here? The Academy is one stop away.” This makes the boy tense up as he realizes his mistake.

“Well why the hell did you get off?” he shouts with his face growing red. It suddenly dawns on Luffy that he also got off at the wrong stop.

“I’m going to be late!” Luffy screams. They both start running but when they get to the bottom of the stairs, Luffy turns left while the boy turns right. Luffy skids to a stop and calls out, “Hey, you’re going the wrong way!”

The boy flinches and changes direction. They run side by side through the city streets in a complete panic. While doing so, they accidently crash through a cart causing vegetables to scatter into the road. At some point they leap over a parked car, angering the driver and both nearly fall into a water lane when they nearly miscalculate the distance after deciding walking across the bridge would take to long. The boy keeps wanting to turn down different alleys causing Luffy to grab his collar and yank him back on the right path. But finally, finally, after dashing up a set of stairs—skipping three steps at a time—they reach the Academy.

“I made it!” Luffy cheers with his arms outstretched towards the sky. The white stone building towers above them with big bold blue letters spelling out Marine Naval Academy. The boy with green hair stands at his side smiling up at the building with a hand loosely resting on his swords. They bask in the sun, taking in the moment… until the bell rings and they realize that they are the only ones standing in front of the building.

“Damn it!” the green haired boy shouts as they return to their panicked running. They bust through the front doors and dash down the pristine blue and white halls. They come to a stop in front of the auditorium doors. “I bet the assembly has already started!”

“Yeah, so we should be really quiet and try and sneak inside.” Luffy says right before kicking the double doors open causing a loud bang.

An auditorium full of students and teachers all slowly turn their heads to stare at them. At the front on a stage, Fleet Admiral Sengoku stands in front of a microphone in the middle of giving his speech. He narrows his eyes at them. Just behind Sengoku are two rows of seats. One row has the high ranking marines including his grandpa Garp who slaps a hand over his face at the sight of Luffy. On the other side is the 7 warlords including his pa Crocodile who is giving him a death glare. Luffy presses his lips tightly together with his foot still in the air from kicking the doors open.

“What was that about being quiet?” the green haired boy hisses at his side.

“Yeah… my bad.”

They quickly rush over to the closest set of empty chairs and take a seat. Admiral Sengoku clears his throat and continues with his opening speech. Luffy tunes out before he can even tune in to whatever the admiral is saying. Instead, he gets distracted by all the people in the crowd and the people up on the stage. The green haired boy lasts two minutes before yawning and immediately falling asleep. Luffy glances up where his pa sits. He’s thankfully stopped glaring at Luffy and has settled into a neutral bored expression. Doflamingo sits next to him with a wide grin. When he leans over to whisper something into Crocodile’s ear, Crocodile closes his eyes in clear annoyance before lifting up out of his seat. Shakky seems to have a silent understanding of the situation and gets up to switch seats with Crocodile. Doflamingo frowns and faces forward for the rest of the assembly.

Nothing else interesting happens for the rest of the assembly. By the time it ends, Luffy’s almost succumbed to sleep as well. When they’re signaled to stand, he smacks the boy next to him awake before they both stumble to their feet.

“Here at the Marine Naval Academy we hold ourselves to a higher standard. We expect great things from all of you.” And with that, Admiral Sengoku gives a proud salute, prompting the students to do the same, bringing the welcoming of the new school year ceremony to an end.

“So how are we supposed to know where to go next?” the boy asks while they glance around the crowd of students who have begun to slowly sift out of the auditorium.

“Oh!” Luffy says when he sees a table that reads registration. He grabs the boy’s collar and drags him to the table. The two marines behind the table flinch when they appear. “We’re here to register!”

“Geez, late on the first day and interrupting the fleet admiral’s speech. You two must be trying to get expelled.” The pink haired one says while grabbing a stack of paper.

The marine next to him with a long goatee and heart shaped sunglasses leans back in his chair, “At the very least, detention on the first day.”

Luffy and the boy say nothing.

“Alright, what’re names so I can find out who’s the lucky son of a bitch who gets to teach you two.” The pink haired marine leans against his brass knuckle fist.

“Monkey D. Luffy.”

“Roronoa Zoro.” The green haired boy says.

“So, your names Zoro? I’m Luffy.” Luffy holds his hand out. Zoro stares at it for a second before giving a smirk and shaking it.

“Luffy huh? Well thanks for pointing me in the right direction.”

“Oh yeah, I did that a lot. You’re really bad with directions.” Luffy turns back to the table while Zoro tenses and grits his teeth. The marine with pink hair flips through a stack of paper until he stops and pulls one out. He reads over it for a second before bursting out in laughter. The marine beside him lets his seat fall forward so all legs are on the ground.

“What is it?” the other asks while taking the paper out of the pink haired marine’s hand. He reads over it before bursting out in laughter himself.

“Oh, he’s gonna love you two,” the pink haired marine wipes a tear away. “You’re both in room 12A. Goodluck.”

“You’re going to need it!” the other calls as Luffy and Zoro start to exit the auditorium.

“Those guys are weird.” Luffy says as they walk.

“They’re marines, what’d you expect?” Zoro stuffs his hands in his pockets as they turn down a different hall. Luffy stares at Zoro for a moment.

“Does that mean you don’t want to be a marine?” Luffy asks. Zoro arches a brow and gives a slight grin.

“I have no intention of becoming some lousy marine.” Zoro comes to a stop so that he can face Luffy. “I’m going to be the world’s greatest swordsman.”

Luffy stares at him for a long moment. Then he smiles. “Okay, I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?”

Luffy starts walking again before saying, “You’re going to join my pirate crew.”

“What? You can’t just decide that!” Zoro shouts while speed walking to catch up.

“Yeah, I can, I just did.” Luffy grins.

“And did you say pirate crew? Why the hell would I want to join up with a bunch of criminals?”

“So what? The current greatest swordsman is a pirate. What’s the big deal?” Luffy shrugs making Zoro pause for a moment.

“Well when you put it that way…” he trails off in thought before asking, “Why do you want to become a pirate anyway?”

Luffy stops right in front of room 12A. He looks at Zoro from over his shoulder and says with a smile, “Because I’m going to be king of the pirates.”

He opens the door and steps through with Zoro close behind. The commotion of the room draws both of their attention. It seems Luffy and Zoro are also the last two to reach the classroom as nearly every seat is already filled. A small table is next to the teacher’s desk near the front with place cards on them. Luffy and Zoro both pick up the cards with their names on it.

“Hey, I’m number 16 and your 17.” Luffy and Zoro hold their cards next to each other. They walk toward the back of the room, noticeably aware of the eyes following them. When they find a table with the numbers 15, 16, and 17, Luffy plops down in the middle seat. The person sitting in the number 15 place shifts away from him, making him take notice. When he recognizes the girl, he smiles and says a little too loudly, “Hey, you’re the thief from before!”

The orange haired girl from the train tenses as heads begin to turn in their direction. The girl springs forward and slaps a hand over Luffy’s mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hisses. Luffy says something but it’s muffled by her hand. Zoro props his chin up on the desk with his hand.

“You two know each other or something?” he asks with a yawn.

“Hell no, I don’t know him.” The girl sits back in her chair with her arms folded over her uniform. Luffy rubs his jaw confused.

“I thought it was really cool how you stole that guy’s wall—” before he can finish, she has slapped a hand over his mouth again.

“Would you stop that! Not everyone in this class needs to know!” she doesn’t remove her hand until Luffy gives an understanding nod.

“I’m Luffy by the way.” He says while pointing his thumb behind him. “And this is Zoro.”

“Names Nami. Just don’t go blabbing around school that I’m a thief and we’ll get along just fine.” She turns her head to face the front.

Luffy gives a grin and a chuckle, “Sure thing, Nami!”

When the door to the classroom opens again, a marine with slicked back white hair steps into the room. Everyone falls into a deep silence. He closes the door to the classroom with a bang making some of the students in the front jump in their seat. Luffy rests both his arms on the table already getting bored.

“I am Captain Smoker and I’ll be the one teaching you sad excuses for marines for the next year. You may address me as Captain or Captain Smoker and nothing else, got it?” Smoker drops a stack of papers on his desk causing another loud noise but this time the ones who jumped only flinch. Luffy absently wonders when lunch time will be. “I’m going to give roll call. Sound off when you hear your name.”

He begins listing off everyone in the class, but Luffy doesn’t listen because he’s realized his chair has a wobbly leg that when he tilts back, it makes a funny noise. Luffy continues to tilt back on his chair, grinning to the sound as Zoro’s head drops as he drifts back to sleep. A loud bang comes from their desk causing Luffy to let his chair fall forward so all legs are on the floor and Zoro’s eyes to pop open. Smoker stands above them, but Luffy can’t tell if he’s frowning more than usual or if its just his face.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he snarls out through gritted teeth. Luffy glances around trying to see what he’s talking about.

“Just sitting here.” He shrugs but that must not have been the right answer because it just makes Smoker look even madder.

“When I call your names I expect you to answer!” he slams a hand down on the table making the people in the front flinch again but Luffy and Zoro remain unbothered. Smoker looks them over before narrowing his eyes, “Are you wearing a hat in my class? And are those earrings in your ear?”

Luffy pats the top of his head, “Yeah, this hat is real important to me!”

“What’s the big deal if I am?” Zoro crosses his arms giving another yawn. A vein in Smoker’s right temple throbs.

“Hats and earrings are prohibited! Take it off and take them out or they become mine!” Smoker yells making Luffy’s ears ring. This time he and Zoro get the message. Luffy swipes his hat back so that it stays tied around his neck but is off his head, while Zoro begrudgingly takes his earrings out and slips them into his pocket. Suddenly satisfied, Smoker picks up his clipboard and loudly says, “Monkey D. Luffy, here. Roronoa Zoro, here.”

He walks back to the front as Luffy returns to leaning back in his squeaky chair. “What’s his problem?”

“His problem? What’s your problem?” Nami hisses at his side. She rubs her temple looking exhausted. “Are you trying to get kicked out on the first day?”

“Why do people keep saying that?” Zoro asks making Luffy shrug. Nami sighs with the shake of her head. When Smoker reaches the front of the room, he begins class. Everyone starts shuffling through their things to pull out books, paper, and pencils. Luffy pats his pockets realizing he didn’t bring any of that stuff.

“Hey Nami,” Luffy whispers, “I forgot to bring paper and a pen. Can I borrow some?”

“Me too.” Zoro leans over so that they are both looking at her. Nami stares at them dumbfounded.

“How do you forget to bring supplies on the first day?” She stares at them but Luffy and Zoro only shrug making her roll her eyes. “Fine, but its going to cost you 500 berries each.”

“500!” Luffy whisper shouts.

“I don’t have that kind of cash.” Zoro grumbles while Luffy scratches his head.

“I could give you one of my sandals, would that cover it?” Luffy starts to reach for his shoes, but Nami wrinkles her nose.

“No, that won’t cover it.” She turns back to her work.

“Here,” a voice in front of them says as sheets of paper are slid towards Luffy and Zoro. A boy with a long nose rummages through his bag and pulls out two pens and holds them out to them. “You can borrow some from me.”

“Thanks! I’m Luffy, this is Zoro. We really owe you!” Luffy grins as he takes the pen.

“I’m Usopp and don’t mention it. Anything to keep Captain Smoker from getting angry again.” Usopp shrugs while turning to face the front. With pen and paper in hand, Luffy buckles down ready to get serious about school.

Except, as it turns out, school is really, really boring. School has always been boring to Luffy but he had hoped since this was the place where all the really cool and famous pirates came from that it would somehow be different and more exciting. But unfortunately, it’s not. It doesn’t take long for Luffy’s enthusiastic note taking to dwindle off into mindless doodles as he starts to lose interest. Eventually he’s resting his chin on the edge of the table struggling to sit still.

“Zoro… I’m bored.” He glances at him only to realize that Zoro fell asleep almost immediately after Smoker started talking. “Oh, you’re asleep… you suck.”

He glances at Nami but before he can open his mouth she says, “Not my problem.”

He lets out a tired puff of air. He glances around the room trying to find anything entertaining when his eyes land on the guy sitting in front of Zoro. He keeps peeking over his shoulder at Luffy and then facing forward again. Luffy lifts his head intrigued. This time when the guy turns to glance towards him, Luffy is staring straight at him. This makes the guy flinch a little.

“What’re you looking at?” Luffy asks now leaning towards him. The guy frowns.

“I’m not looking at you I’m looking at…” his eyes drift past Luffy and towards Nami as a deep blush spreads across his face. “… I’m looking at the goddess next to you.”

Luffy looks between Nami and the guy. “Oh, you mean Nami? Whatever you say.”

The guy now turns in his chair so he’s half facing Luffy. “Hey, how about we switch seats? You can sit next to this guy who obviously doesn’t have an issue letting you bum off him and I get to sit next to Nami!”

Luffy considers it for a second before going, “Nah.”

“What, why?” Now the guy is fully turned towards Luffy.

Luffy shrugs and lets his chin rest on the table again, “Just don’t wanna.”

The guy frowns and turns to Zoro. He kicks his leg causing him to startle awake.

“What the hell is your problem?” Zoro rubs his leg where the guy had kicked him.

“Switch places with me so I can sit closer to Nami.” The guy demands.

“Screw you I’m not switching seats with anyone.” Zoro recrosses his arms.

Usopp lets out a heavy sigh and says over his shoulder, “Would you three quiet down? You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Seriously, and I can hear you.” Nami says as she continues to take notes.

“Oh, then Nami how about you switch places with Usopp?” the guy suggests.

“No way, why do I have to move?” Usopp frowns at him.

“No one wants to switch with you so just shut up.” Zoro says and to make sure his point gets across, he kicks the back of the guy’s chair causing a small box to fall out of his bag and slide across the floor. The four of them follow where the box stops in front of someone that they hadn’t realized had approached them. Luffy has returned to making his chair squeak. The four of them tense as Smoker reaches down and picks it up.

“Is this a pack of cigarettes… in my room?” Smoker says through gritted teeth. Its at this moment that Luffy finally sees his teacher glaring over them.

“Oh, what’s up Smoky?” He gives a little wave and in doing so, seals their fates.

The vein in Smoker’s head throbs harder than ever before as he shouts, “DETENTION, ALL OF YOU!”

And that’s how Luffy got himself and four others detention on the first day of school. When the school day is over, they all find themselves walking outside towards the old gymnasium where they’re supposed to report for detention. No one has said a word all day after the incident and Luffy can’t figure out why they’re all in such a bad mood. When they slide open the door to the gym and step inside, Nami and Usopp jump back when a man leaps out from behind a stack of old matts.

“Welcome students to the worst day of your life!” the man shouts excitedly. “I am the great and humble warden of Impel Down and the one to bestow upon you your punishment!”

They stare at him in a long and awkward silence before Luffy says, “Uh, no you’re not. The warden of Impel Down is this big creepy dude with horns.”

The warden impostor flinches as if Luffy had punched him in the gut, “Okay fine! I’m not the warden. I am the vice warden Hannyabal and still deserve some respect!”

“If you’re the vice warden of Impel Down, then why are you here supervising detention?” the blond haired guy asks.

“If you must know the staff at Impel Down is required to volunteer our time at the Academy just like the 7 warlords. We’re usually given the task of supervising detention and in school suspension.” He crosses his arms and frowns at them. “Though we weren’t exactly expecting anyone to get in trouble on the first day. Real overachievers aren’t ya?”

They have nothing to say to this. So Hannyabal turns and gestures to the gym. “For your punishment you’ll be tasked with cleaning this place top to bottom. You’ll clean it until your guardians come and pick you up in an hour. In the meantime, don’t bother me.”

They all gawk in disgust and horror of the state of the old gymnasium. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs and they’re pretty sure they see something scurry into a crack in the wall. Hannyabal walks over to a chair and sits with his feet propped up on an old desk. Within seconds he’s out like a light and snoring almost as loud as Zoro.

“Geez, I can’t believe we got detention on our first day!” Usopp grumbles while passing out brooms.

“Don’t look at me, it’s curly brow’s fault.” Zoro says as he takes a broom.

“What was that moss head? You’re the one who kicked my bag!” the blond guy yells.

“Would you both shut it? As far as I’m concerned, it’s all your faults. Including you Luffy.” Nami folds her arms while trying to find a semi clean place to sit.

“I still don’t get why we got detention.” Luffy shrugs before pulling his hat on his head.

“What are you doing? If someone sees, you’ll get in trouble.” Usopp says.

“So what? I’m already in detention.” Luffy grabs a broom with a grin. He looks over at the blond guy with the curly eyebrow. “So, you got a name?”

“It’s Sanji.” He says with his hands in his pockets. He pulls out a different pack of cigarettes and slips one in his mouth.

“What is wrong with you?” Usopp shouts.

“What? He’s right. We’re already in trouble, might as well relax.” Sanji lights his cigarette and blows out a steady stream of smoke. Zoro shrugs and puts his earrings back in his ears.

“Honestly, I’m more surprised Captain Smoker was more concerned about your earrings than the 3 swords on your hip.” Nami says as she wipes off some dust on a chair and sits down. “What are you doing with 3 swords anyway?”

“I fight with them, what else?” Zoro shrugs while grabbing two more brooms. Nami rolls her eyes before catching Sanji staring. She gives a sly smile and leans back in her chair.

“Sanji, was it? Do you think you can clean my side of the gym for me? I’m just so tired from the day.” She says while fanning her face with her hand. Sanji immediately perks up.

“Of course, Nami dearest! Anything for you!” Sanji shouts while starting to sweep the floors. Zoro rolls his eyes with a snort making Sanji frown at him. “What? Scared I’ll clean twice as much space faster than you?”

This makes the hair on the back of Zoro’s neck stand on edge. He turns to glare at Sanji, “What was that curly brow?”

Before anyone can stop them, Sanji and Zoro are racing each other to see who can clean the most the fastest. Zoro sweeps with a broom in each hand and one between his teeth.

“What a bunch of morons. But if it gets this place cleaned up faster than who am I to judge.” Usopp shrugs with a smile.

“Yeah,” Luffy agrees as he sweeps his broom back and forth. Usopp smacks the back of his head.

“You’re sweeping with the wrong side of the broom you idiot!” He shouts as Luffy rubs the back of his head.

He gives a “Whoops” and decides to give up on sweeping and join Usopp and Nami who are sitting on the sidelines. He hops up onto a stack of old matts that reek of mildew. Nami and Usopp pull their phones out and get lost in it prompting Luffy to do the same. He sees that he has several new messages.

Did you really get detention on your first day? Sir Monkey D. Luffy we are going to have a talk when you get home. – Pa

To Luffy,

We talked about this. You can’t be getting in trouble like you did in your old school.

Sincerely,

Your Father. – Dad

So, did you cry? – Ace, followed by a later text of a series of laughing emojis.

At least it’s not expulsion – Sabo, he adds a shrugging emoji at the end.

Luffy lets out a groan and runs a hand through his hair. Usopp looks up at him. “What’s wrong.”

“My entire family knows I got detention.” He shows Usopp his phone who takes it and gives a laugh.

“Does your dad really text like he’s writing a letter?” He hands Luffy his phone back. Luffy nods.

“My older brothers have been trying to tell him how to text but he just doesn’t get it.” Luffy slips his phone in his pocket, not feeling like dealing with them right now.

“My mom’s pretty bad at texting too… and really all new technology.” Usopp puts his phone in his pocket as well.

“Same.” Nami adds with a stretch. “So, what’s a troublemaker like you doing at the Naval Academy?”

“Both my dads went here and so did both my older brothers.” Luffy explains while letting his feet dangle over the tall stack of matts.

“My dad went here too but… can I tell you guys a secret?” Usopp leans in so Luffy and Nami do the same. “I’m not here to become a marine. I’m going to become a pirate and great warrior of the sea!”

“Me too!” Luffy hops from his stack of matts.

“Oh really? Well maybe I’ll let you join my crew. They’re already 8,000 strong after all.” He gives a nonchalant shrug. Luffy gasps in awe while Nami shakes her head.

“I hate pirates. Can’t stand them.” She leans on her knees propping her chin up with her hand. Usopp and Luffy stare at her. Before they have a chance to ask why she says, “But you’re not pirates yet… so I guess I can tolerate you.”

“I guess that means you want to become a marine then?” Usopp asks while Luffy leans against the stack of matts. Sanji and Zoro continue to clean the gym, passing by every now and then usually in the middle of insulting the other. The question makes Nami give a small laugh.

“No way, its just…” she tilts her head while staring at a ray of sunlight. “… my mom always wanted either my sister or me to come here.”

They wait for her to go on, but she doesn’t. Not wanting to dredge up any bad memories, their conversation becomes much more lighthearted and easy going. Luffy finds out that Usopp and Nami are from the East Blue and when Zoro and Sanji overhear they reveal that they’re from there too. Usopp comes from a town almost as small as Foosha Village while Nami’s town is a much larger fishing village. Sanji and Zoro return to their competition before they can explain where they come from. Then the conversation turns to movies and music that they each like and before they know it the hour flies by.

Sanji and Zoro both collapse in front of Luffy, Nami, and Usopp. Through their panted breaths they continue to argue over who cleaned the most and the fastest. The gym isn’t spotless but its much better off then it was before. Usopp, Luffy, and Nami have positioned chairs into a half open circle with Nami’s feet lazily propped in Luffy’s lap. Luffy remembered the box Makino had given him earlier that morning and is sharing the chocolate inside.

“There’s no way that’s true.” Nami says with a laugh.

“It is! I heard it from a very reliable source! They say that when the sun goes down if you walk the school halls, you’ll hear the ghost that haunts the Naval Academy! They say he’s the first pirate ever to be executed after the school was built so he stalks the halls singing Binks’s Brew!” Usopp wiggles his fingers with a ghostly groan.

Luffy laughs, “Ooo now I wanna see!”

“Binks’s Brew? That doesn’t sound very scary.” Nami rolls her eyes.

“Brew…? Did someone say brew? I could go for a cold one.” Zoro pants while still being sprawled out on the floor.

“Shut up moss head.” Sanji pants back. They both try to smack each other but neither have the energy. It’s at this moment that the door to the gym opens and a woman with a long nose steps inside.

“Mom,” Usopp says as he stands. “I’ll see you guys later.”

He waves a goodbye and goes to his mother. She gives a polite nod to them and looks unsure if she should wake Hannyabal before ultimately deciding to just leave. The next person to arrive is a woman with the sides of her head shaven. She puts her hands on her hips and stares in Luffy and Nami’s direction.

“Well, that’s me.” Nami says as she stands. She glances back at Luffy. “See you tomorrow.”

Luffy watches her leave before sitting on the floor with Sanji and Zoro. It doesn’t take long before the door opens again and a man with a long blond mustache and peg leg steps inside. Sanji stands with a grunt, saying his goodbyes before leaving. Another 10 minutes goes by before the doors open and a familiar face steps inside.

“Roronoa, lets go.” Warlord Hawkeyes Mihawk says. Zoro rubs the back of his neck as he stands.

“Zoro, is that your dad?” Luffy gasps. Zoro shakes his head.

“No, he’s my sponsor. It’s how I got into this school.” Zoro gives a lazy wave goodbye and stands next to Mihawk who eyes Luffy suspiciously.

“Monkey D. Luffy I presume.” He says.

“Yup, that’s me.” Luffy stares back at him.

“I should have known.” Mihawk finally pulls his eyes away to stare at Hannyabal but only for a second before leading Zoro out of the room. With it just being Luffy, he gets bored quickly. He finds himself wandering around the gym looking for something to entertain himself with. He finds a basketball but its deflated and covered in cobwebs. He then tries poking his head under the stage at the far end of the gym but when he sees big bat wings spread out he shuts the small door and decides that he better not.

30 minutes later when the sun goes down, the door to the gym finally opens. Luffy stops when his grandpa steps inside. He has one hand stuffed into one pocket and frowning at Luffy.

“Let’s go, boy.” He says. Luffy nods and follows his grandpa out leaving a snoring Hannyabal alone in the old gymnasium.

They’re silent the whole car ride through the Grand Line and through the tunnel to the East Blue. It’s not until they leave the Goa capital does his grandpa finally speak.

“So, besides getting detention, how was your first day?” He keeps his eyes on the road as Luffy finally lifts his head and cracks a smile.

“It was really boring, but I made a lot of friends.” He leans back in the passenger seat. His grandpa gives a soft smile and doesn’t say anything else. They’re silent the rest of the way home but the air is much lighter. When they finally pull into his parent’s driveway, Luffy starts to sink back down in his seat dreading what is to come.

“Lets go, kid.” Garp says as he slides out the car. Luffy reluctantly does the same. A warm breeze rustles his hair and hat as he stares at his house. Why is it so dark? Usually, his pa is working in the downstairs office while his dad watches TV in the living room. The only thing normal is the delicious smell of food in the air. His parents have never made him go to bed hungry but he’s always worried one day he’ll tip them over the edge.

He follows his grandpa down the stone path to the front door. His grandpa steps to the side making Luffy enter first. When he steps into the dark entryway, Luffy knows something is off. The entire house is dark and silent. A small surge of panic runs up his chest making him pad the walls until he finds the light switch. When it flicks on, he winces at the sudden brightness as a swarm of people jump out shouting “Surprise!” while someone throws confetti in his face.

“What?” Luffy blinks trying to make sense of what’s going on.

“Congratulations on not getting expelled your first day!” Sabo shouts while pointing to a paper banner across the entryway to the living room reading Congratulations On Not Getting Expelled Your First Day. Ace blows a noisemaker and throws another fistful of confetti in his face while Sabo slips a party hat over Luffy’s straw hat.

“Did you all really think I was going to get expelled my first day?” Luffy shouts.

Ace slings an arm around his shoulders, “More than I believe the sun will rise tomorrow morning.”

“You guys suck.” Luffy pouts but can’t stop himself from grinning. He wanders around the house saying hi to everyone who came. Most are familiar faces from Baroque Works, Dadan’s mountain bandits, and the revolution.

“Straw Boy!” Iva shouts from the back deck. Luffy maneuvers through his small living room filled with people through the open glass doors to find Iva, Bon Clay, Kuma, and his dad standing around a grill. “Glad you made it through your first day.”

“You did make quite the entrance.” Kuma smiles.

“I was fine!” He insists as his dad pats his head with a laugh.

“We’re just messing with you… kind of. Go get something to eat.” His dad points to a long table of food. Luffy’s mouth immediately starts salivating. He piles his plate high with food and takes a seat on the floor in the living room.

“… and he—he got detention the first day?” his pa’s loud laugh nearly makes him choke. He looks across the room to see his pa and Dadan leaning on each other laughing, both clearly drunk.

“Oh, that kid was always trouble.” Dadan says with the wave of a sake bottle. His pa takes a swig of the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“But he was such a cute kid.” His pa says after a long gulp. That sends them both into a state of gushing over memories of Luffy as a kid. Luffy gives a slight groan but continues eating. Sabo and Ace find Luffy and sit on either side of him.

“So, where’s grandpop?” Luffy asks when he realizes Whitebeard isn’t anywhere to be seen. Ace and Sabo exchange a look.

“Pop’s had something come up. But he wanted to come.” Ace explains.

After that, Sabo steers the conversation to old memories that Ace and Sabo shared while they went to the Academy. Luffy told him about his day and the new friends he had made. His pa eventually made his way over and forced all 3 boys into a clingy bear hug. Crocodile only ever gets mushy when he’s really hammered. Dragon comes to their rescue and coaxes him onto the back deck with the promise of something whispered into his ear. Luffy, Ace, and Sabo didn’t care to find out what that thing was. Through the whole night people celebrated Luffy’s first day at the academy with drinks and good food.

When it finally gets late enough and the last of the guests are gone, Luffy lets himself fall onto the couch in a satisfied exhaustion. He rolls onto his side to poke at his pa’s cheek since he had passed out on the floor. Ace and Sabo shuffle through the house, collecting stray cups and plates.

“Just leave it boys, we can do dishes tomorrow.” Dragon yawns.

“You mind if we stay here tonight?” Sabo asks after a deep stretch. Dragon makes a face to say do you really have to ask?

Ace and Sabo say goodnight while Dragon reaches down to hoist Crocodile over his shoulder. He ruffles Luffy’s hair and says, “Goodnight kid.”

Luffy watches them disappear into their bedroom before settling into the silent stillness of the house. It doesn’t take long before he can hear Dragon’s snoring. Slowly, Luffy pushes himself up and places his feet on the floor. The moon shines in through the glass doors giving him plenty of light as the wind makes the windchimes sing. He walks through the creaky hallway and climbs the steps, wincing every time the stairs announced which step he’s on. He walks into his room and falls into bed before glancing over at the bunkbed. Ace has reclaimed his spot on the top bunk with and arm and a leg dangling over the side while Sabo sleeps like a normal person on the bottom. Luffy smiles and pulls off the part hat and sets it on the nightstand. He then carefully takes his straw hat off and holds it up in the moonlight.

This hat means a lot to me. Promise that you’ll give it back someday when you become a great pirate.

Luffy rests the hat gently on his chest and closes his eyes.

“I promise.”

Read full story HERE on AO3!!!

40 notes · View notes

melonba11s · 1 year

Text

When a beer doesn't help (Reupload)

You haven't been yourself lately, and Strade doesn't like this

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked.

Contains: Strade, Gender-Neutral MC, depictions of depression

It had been some months since Strade had decided to keep you. At first, you hadn’t really known what to think, feeling only uncertainty weighed down by the collar around your throat. Then there was relief, knowing you were alive.

But to what life? You were trapped in the house, if you got too close to the doors, a painful electric shock would be administered. Strade spent most of his time in the basement, leaving you upstairs with Ren most of the time. At first, you had filled your time with cleaning, making meals for Strade, and spending awkward times with Ren as he surfed the internet or watched anime.

But there eventually grew an ache for the outside world. To get up in the morning and go to your favorite cafe for a cup of coffee. To head to a job you had hated, but one that gave you routine. And you could always spend your day off doing whatever you wanted. Walking through the park, driving out to a museum. So many things you now felt you never did enough. Because now, you’d never do them again.

It started off pretty simply. Sleeping in, letting the hours tick by as you drifted in and out of sleep. There was no reason to wake up after all. Eventually you spent more time just laying in bed with your thoughts than you did up and about.

Ren never forced you to help him with anything, after all. You had only volunteered to help. So a new routine emerged of sleeping, laying around listlessly, and occasionally being called to join Strade as he watched a movie or some TV.

Today wasn’t any different. Strade had called your name, and you’d shuffled out into the living room to sit next to him, toying with your collar as you barely paid attention to what was on the screen. You only gave some acknowledgement of Strade’s existence next to you when he got up.

“I’m going to go get a beer.” he had said, heading into the kitchen without another word. You had just nodded, continuing to stare at the television. Until a can of beer was shoved into your face. You looked up in questioning at Strade, his expression unreadable as he pushed it into your hand.

“Here. Drink.” He enunciated, before sitting back down next to you. You stared down at the beer, before cracking it open. He’d never gotten you anything before… It tasted awful, like cheap tea left in the sun for a week. But you kept sipping, aware that Strade was staring at you from the corner of his eye.

“What's up.” he said, suddenly, as the program on the TV took a commercial break. It was a question, but he phrased it more like a sentence. You shot him a confused look, squinting a bit. He coughed, and explained himself more.

“All you do is sleep. Lay around. Faulenzen.” He took a sip of his own beer, now staring at a commercial for a hardware store. “You were so full of life before, I liked you better then.” You shuffled in place, trying to find your words.

“... There doesn’t seem to be a point to it.” you finally decided on saying. “I don’t have any reason to get out of bed, do I? And I like sleeping.” Strade gave a grunt, letting you know to be silent as his show came back on. So you again both sat in silence, occasionally drinking from your can of beer. Until the next round of commercials came.

“When was the last time you showered?” was his question this time, reaching out and running a hand through your stringy hair.

“Don’t remember.” you offered as an answer, and watched as he wrinkled his nose.

“Not good, Schatzi. You should be showering regularly.” You rolled your eyes.

“The collar isn’t waterproof, and why do you care?” You gave a small squeak as Strade stood up, turning the TV off and grabbing you by your upper arm. He began to half drag, half lead you up the stairs.

“I need you in good health next time we have some fun together.” was his only explanation. Ah, so that was it. He just needed you to not break too easily.

“You’re going to miss your show.” you tried to protest, as his tugging you along became painful.

“I was barely paying attention to it anyways.” Strade said. Liar. If he wasn’t paying attention to it he wouldn’t have gestured for you to remain quiet while he watched. You just tried your best to keep up as he swung open the bathroom door, and flicked the bathtubs tap on.

“Take them off.” He instructed, pointing at your clothes. A hand me down shirt from him, covered in beer stains, and a pair of underwear. He left the bathroom after giving you instruction, leaving you alone. The room was quickly filling up with steam, as you stripped down. You toggled with the temperature of the water, figuring that Strade was forcing you to bathe. But there was still the issue of your collar.

You turned as Strade came back, holding two towels, and the remote to your collar. You stiffened, shrinking back from him.

“Relax. I just need to take it off.” He grumbled, looking mildly annoyed. You watched as he locked the door behind him, locking you in with him. He set the towels down on the counter, then reached forward, pressing a button on the remote as he did so.

Almost instantly, there was the relief of the collar unlocking, you scratched at the exposed skin as Strade set the opened collar down next to the towels. Then began unbuttoning his shirt. He caught your wide eyed stare, and smiled.

“I may as well bathe too, shouldn’t I? I apparently have to show you how to properly clean yourself.” You turned around, despite not caring if he saw you naked… The idea of watching him strip made you warm in the face.

“I-I can bathe myself, but, the collar-”

“Come and ask me to take it off, Schatzi” he said simply. “I do not bite. Usually.” you hunched your shoulders as you heard the unmistakable sound of clothes hitting the floor. Then warm hands on your shoulders.

“Come now, get into the tub.” unwilling to push him off and risk angering him, you let him lift and guide your body into the bath, following suit until you were nestled between his legs, forced closer to him than you’d been in a long time.

“Relax, a bath is a time for relaxation.” he instructed, wrapping his arms around your chest and pulling you back. This was the opposite of relaxing, being pressed up against him, skin to skin. You did your best though, closing your eyes, trying to imagine you were somewhere else, with someone else.

Strade hummed softly, making a show of pouring shampoo into his hands and attacking your head with it. His fingers were way to rough, digging into your scalp that threatened to bruise. You could only sit there and take it as he scrubbed away what was probably weeks of filth.

“... I’d like for you to enjoy being here.” he said suddenly, quietly. You tried to turn to look at him, to try and make sure it actually came from him, but he kept a tight grip on your head, making you face forward. Before you could say anything, he continued.

“... Keep cleaning for me. Give yourself something to do. Or else.” It was a thinly veiled threat, but you could read through his painfully thin lines. “Keep a routine.”

“Also,” he added on. “... Do you have any hobbies? I can get you things for them.” He was speaking gruffly, and low, so much so you could barely hear him. You took in a deep breath. You suppose this was his way of showing he’d been worried for you.

“... Thank you…” You managed, as he dumped water over your head to get out the last of the shampoo.

“Don’t thank me. It’s my responsibility to care for my pets.”

#Strade

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thecelestiallegacies · 1 month

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A Wish Come True? pt 3

At the Celestial Productions Studio and Cafe, Grace met up with Devante and put on her most charming smile. Devante, sarcastically: "You showed up princess. I didn't even need the smoke signal." Grace: "Ah haha, yeah, hey you said you're name is Devante Woodworth, like the director right?" Devante, smiling proudly: "The one and only." Grace: "So... does that mean you have access to like locked info and stuff right? Like V.I.P.?" Devante raised his eyebrows curiously at her bambi-like tone. She was clearly leading up to it. He pursed his lips in thought. Devante: "Tell you what, I'll get you into whatever section you want, and in return... You shoot a commercial with me this weekend." Grace felt her stomach turn at the thought of spending her much-deserved weekend in a professional setting with this man, but her sister needed her to push through. Grace, defeated: "Fine, whatever." Devante, smiling victoriously: "Perfect." Devante headed into the building, even his walk came across as snooty with his nose pointed up above everyone else. Grace trailed behind him. Grace: "My name is Grace by the way." Devante, glancing back at her over his shoulder: "I like 'Princess' thanks." As he opened the door, he slinked through the threshold, letting the glass swing close just as Grace reached the door. Grace huffed, pulling the door open for herself and entering the wide building cast in marble and gold. The offices were up two flights of stairs and Devante peaked through the windowed doors to find the empty one. Using a number code, the door opened and Grace was allowed inside. Devante stood out in the hallway and kept watch while Grace sat down at the computer.

#the sims #sims #the sims 4 #my sims #ts4 #sims story #sims 4 #simmer #nebulalegacy #simblr

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oatmealcrisp-freak · 1 year

Text

have a deleted scene from Single !!

Ah.

His phone was ringing.

Kusuo blinked down at it, then back up at his screen and decided that he could take a break from his work for this. He was pretty well caught up with the manual he was writing, he just had to check it over with Kumi then send it in to the client for their approval or any revisions they may be seeking.

Stretching his back he groaned, then sighed in pleasure as the tension popped into relief and swiped the screen to accept the call.

Yuuta’s face popped up, his grin wide.

“Hey, big bro! How’s it hanging?”

‘How’s it hanging’? Heh.

Kusuo snorted immediately as he picked up the phone. “You’ve been watching Aiura too much.”

The kid flushed, immediately a little embarrassed, and scratched his cheek. Then he shrugged and grinned shamelessly.

“Yeah, and? She’s so cool! She came in second in her last race, you know, she was robbed. They had to have messed around with the finish line capture, I’m positive of it.”

This kid went through hyperfixations like most people went through trousers. When Kusuo had met him it’d been that soda commercial, then it’d been Super Sentai, then Neon Genesis Evangelion which had horrified his mom and briefly retraumatized Kusuo thanks to his older brother’s own obsession with that series. Those had only been the most notable ones, there’d been plenty and many others along the way.

Now he was into racing and wanted to be just like his idol, Mikoto Aiura, who’d also hailed from Hidariwakibara.

Of course that was difficult when you were in college majoring in Information Technologies with a minor in publishing.

It was hard to believe the little lost brat he’d saved from getting run over had grown into this reasonably intelligent and vivacious young man.

“Even Aiura loses sometimes,” Kusuo said with a shake of his head.

And thank goodness for that, otherwise Aiura would get bored and a bored Aiura was a chaotic Aiura who was eager to throw earthquakes into everything she touched. The racing track would never survive if Aiura had it too easy.

“Aw big bro, you don’t know that! You don’t even follow racing. That’d be like saying you lose,” Yuuta said, his head bouncing in the frame of Kusuo’s screen as he seemed to jog up some stairs. “It’s literally impossible.”

‘If this kid ever finds out about Mikoto’s crush on me, my life is going to be ruined,’ Kusuo realized not for the first time with an ominous chill down his back.

“Anyways, did you call for a reason?” He said before they could start getting even deeper into these dangerous weeds.

“Oh! Right, yeah, you called me so I just thought I’d call back since I got a minute.”

Yuuta frowned into the screen. “Your messages are always so vague, you really need to work on that.”

Then the kid grinned. “What are you, a secret agent or something?”

Kusuo snorted and a small smile was stealing his mouth before he could stop it. He shook his head.

“Hardly anything so important, Yuuta.”

“Why not? You’ve got the secret mountain lair,” Yuuta laughed. “Reams of cash to your name, uh.”

His big eyes flicked around and then he waggled his eyebrows into the camera. “Secret technology patents. Why couldn’t you be a secret agent?”

Then Yuuta paused and tacked on, “Or something.”

Kusuo sniffed with all the gravitas he could muster. “Too much work.”

“Hah!”

It was good to see the kid laugh. Yet again relieved that Neon Genesis Evangelion hadn’t awoken anything in the kid, Kusuo tilted his head. Short green hair tousled up in messy half curls from the lip of a red beanie. His nose was red with the cold, and his hoodie was drawn up high around his chin. Kusuo made a note to self to send him better winter clothes for Christmas.

“Anyways, mom was hinting at something too,” Yuuta said and gave him a suspicious look. “Are you up to something?”

Yeah, this was a good enough opening to drop the bombshell.

“Hm,” Kusuo said, spinning in his chair until Yuuta could see a certain someone behind him.

#freaks fics #i really want yuuta in here but this isn't hitting it for me

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myreia · 1 year

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Far from Happenstance

Rating: G Pairing: Aureia Malathar / Thancred Waters Words: 3786 Notes: Aur's first meeting with Thancred, reworked from her perspective. Spoilers for ARR's Ul'dah start. Read on AO3

The streets taste like dust.

It’s the first thing Aureia noticed upon her arrival in Ul’dah. Though the city stands tall and bright, its burnished domes glinting proudly in the sun, it will never forget the land upon which it is built. The dust is pervasive, blowing in through the gates to permeate everything around it, rolling down the side streets and clogging the alleyways. More than once she has been caught off-guard at night, throwing her little window open to seek fresh air only to swallow a mouthful of the stuff. The city may not lack for water, but no matter how many fountains dance in the thoroughfares, it is never enough to dampen the coarse, gritty air.

When she asked Momodi about it, the proprietor patted her sympathetically on the arm, then asked if she was interested in another contract.

Aureia turns a corner and pulls her robe’s neckline over her mouth and nose, flying down the steps as makes her way to the commercial district. That was almost two months ago. She once prided herself on being adaptable, but this city is getting the better of her.

Only a few more weeks, she promises herself, bumping shoulders with fellow pedestrians as she works against the flow of traffic. You almost have enough spare gil. Then you can head anywhere.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? She staked everything on Ul’dah, spending every last gil she had to get here in the first place. Since then, she has been begging for scraps, putting what meagre adventuring talents she has to use. But the pay is small and what little she earns goes right back into upgrading her gear and ensuring she has a roof over her head and food in her stomach. She has very little to save most days, if anything at all.

She’s been trapped in almost enough for too long.

Gridania, maybe. Or Limsa Lominsa. The sea would be nice—

She stops short.

“Seven hells!”

Someone barrels into her from behind. Her heart lurches into her throat at the impact and she twists out of the way. Black hair streaked with red falls about her face as she looks up at the large Elezen cursing at her. She flinches and presses herself against the stairway wall, the urge to run and hide welling up inside her. Though the man quickly disappears in the flow of traffic, her panic refuses to subside.

Inhaling a slow breath, Aureia tugs on her hood back over her head, comforted by the anonymity it brings. She scans the stairs, searching the flowing crowd. Someone was watching her, someone unfamiliar. She’s been on the run long enough to trust her instincts in that regard—and her instincts are screaming that she’s being followed.

She tenses, one hand brushing against the staff strapped to her back. It wouldn’t do cause a scene, but she’s not opposed to dowsing the Steps of Nald in fire and ice if it comes to it.

One.

Two.

Three.

She exhales and leans her head against the wall. Nothing. Nothing but ordinary folk, going about their ordinary lives. Merchants, adventurers, crafters… a handful of Brass Blades. But—

There.

A Hyur man at the top of the steps. This isn’t the first time she’s seen him. White hair, daggers, and a curious contraption on his face. She saw him pass by this morning, and now…

Seven hells. Maybe it’s a coincidence?

She blinks. The man is gone.

Shaking it off, Aureia hurries down the steps and emerges through an archway onto the Sapphire Exchange. The market is bustling today, its colourful chaos bursting in every direction. Vendors tout their wares, their voices disappearing into the cacophony. The usual cluster bunches around the market board, elbowing each other out of the way to peruse the notices. Independent crafters line the streets, demonstrating their trades for the wealthy and curious. A handful of Miqo’te dancers have taken up residence in the avenue’s main intersection, their rich silks swirling about them as they capture the attention of enthralled passersby.

Shouldering her staff, Aureia ignores most of the distractions and makes beeline for her favourite vendor. Her boots have worn out and she needs replacements before heading into the desert. As she pursues the few options she can afford, her heart sinks. These boots have travelled everywhere with her; they are one of her few remaining belongings from home. But the thick leather was never well-suited to the desert heat and the soles are threadbare. Now is not the time for sentimentality.

Not that she has much to be sentimental about.

With the boots exchanged for practical sandals, Aureia quickly makes her way to the nearest gate. Though she can’t shake the feeling of being watched, she can’t let it distract her. Momodi went to great lengths to recommend her services to Papashan, and she can’t disappoint the stationmaster. One misstep and she may never get another recommendation.

A strange feeling creeps across the nape of her neck.

“Damn it,” Aureia mutters, wheeling about. She stands against the tide, a single, unremarkable woman in a coarse blue robe, desperately searching the streets. She curses inwardly, knowing she should have kept walking. If anyone is tailing her, they’re bound to notice. But some days she doesn’t have the patience for subtlety.

Her eyes narrow. That man again…

There he is, a block or so away. Leaning against the wall with his arms folded as if nothing is out of the ordinary. He has removed the contraption and slung it about his arm. She’s too far away to get a good look at his face, but the white hair is distinctive.

Aureia frowns, wracking her memory. She can’t recall any Garlean officers that match that description… though she wouldn’t put it past them to have agents in the city. Or perhaps he’s someone else. If someone had leaked her name, made the right connections…

Damn it.

She closes her eyes. She’s been running for months. She’s run so far, the memory of her home feels like little more than a fever dream. Reaching behind her, she seizes her staff and draws it from her back. Whatever his reasons, this man is tailing her. Perhaps it would be better to confront him directly and be done with it.

Aureia pauses, her staff slipping in her sweaty grip. Don’t, she tells herself. Not now, there’s too many people. Someone could get hurt. Leave the city and help Papashan. If he follows, handle him then. Let him see who he’s dealing with.

She lowers her staff and strides determinedly for the gate. She has a runaway noblewoman to find.

***

If she’s being honest, she didn’t listen all that well to Papashan. It takes her longer than expected to find the sultantree, losing herself more than once in Thanalan’s monotonous environment. Soon, her toes are crusted with sand, her robe stiff with dust. She slow to a halt at the crest of a hill, coughing from the effort, and plants the butt of her staff into the ground. Leaning against it for support, she unhooks her water flask from her belt and raises it to her lips, drinking thirstily. Water flows over her parched lips, sating her thirst, and she casts an eye across the sun-drenched lands below.

The enormous sultantree bursts forth from a valley below, its giant branches shading the land around it from the sun. A small figure dressed in pink curls at its base, her head curled at its base.

Is that Lilira? Aureia wonders. What in the seven hells is she doing out here?

Considering the dangerous fauna she had to trek through to reach this place, it’s a surprise an unguarded noblewoman made it here safely on her own. No wonder Papashan was worried.

Sighing heavily, Aureia returns her water flask and quickly picks her way down the hill. The wind stirs as she approaches, tugging at her hood. A faint voice carries on the air, the words faint and mumbled.

“O Sultantree, hallowed spirit of my line, forgive my weakness. My failings have cost us dear…”

Aureia slows to a stop. Is it a prayer? Something else? Despite her month in the city, she’s still unfamiliar with Ul’dah’s many customs. But no matter how quickly she wants to finish this job, barging in and demanding the noblewoman accompany her back to the city doesn’t feel right.

The noblewoman stirs, tensing. She turns around, scanning the area. “Show yourself!”

Aureia grips her staff, preparing to announce herself. She can’t blame the noblewoman for her caution. The desert is home to more unkind souls than she can count.

“As you command, O Lilira.”

She freezes, brow furrowed, a curious voice ringing in her ears. Swiftly, she draws to the side, crouching behind a rocky outcrop. A man strolls into view with an unhurried, casual pace, his white hair and cocky self-assurance all too familiar.

“You,” Aureia breathes.

Lilira stands with her hands on her hips, observing the stranger with annoyance.

“Forgive my selfish desire to assure your welfare,” he says quickly, bowing politely. “Now, if—”

“I don’t recall requesting an escort,” she says indignantly. “Simply pretend we never met and continue on your way.”

He chuckles and sweeps his hair out of his eyes. “Come now, we both know I can do no such thing. It isn’t safe for you here alone. It isn’t safe for anyone—not with this aetheric disturbance…” He trails off, a hand brushing the contraption on his shoulder. He raises his head, turning slightly as he observes the sky, searching. “It’s as though the dead are watching us. I’d prefer not to join them, if it’s all the same to you.”

A shiver runs down Aureia’s spine. She stills her hand, heart pounding in her chest, debating whether to reveal herself or not. The stranger does not intend Lilira harm… perhaps he is not what she thought he was.

Still strange, whatever he is.

He glances over his shoulder, a wry smirk on his face, and turns to the rocky outcropping. “You must be the one Papashan mentioned,” he calls. “Why don’t you come out? Congratulations on finding our elusive young charge must be made.”

Cursing under her breath, Aureia straightens and pushes herself out from behind the outcropping. “I don’t think congratulations are in order,” she says, making her way down the hill. Gravel rolls out from beneath her sandals, nearly making her lose her footing. “I’m here to finish a job.”

He frowns. “You could at the very least put that in a less ominous way,” he replies, eyeing her carefully. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were here for less than reputable reasons.”

“Don’t make me out to be anything I’m not. I’m just an adventurer.”

“An adventurer waving a thaumaturge’s staff around. I’m no fool, my lady. I know you can summon fire from your fingertips.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please,” she says irritably. “Don’t beg for a demonstration. Can we go now? If you’re here to help Lilira, then we best be off.”

“Of course!” he says, holding up his hands. “You’ll have to forgive Her Impetuousness. What she lacks in discipline, she makes up for in stubbornness—”

A screech rings in her ears.

Aureia reacts in tandem with the stranger. Together, they raise their heads, searching the skies. A creature—reptilian, dark wings spread wide—cuts across the sky, its dark scales a void-like black against the blazing sun. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the stranger snatch Lilira from the tree and push her back, gesturing for her to hide.

“Dear Lilira, for my sake, please stay out of harm’s way!” he shouts, turning swiftly and drawing his daggers. The small Lalafell scurries up the hill, taking cover behind the outcropping. He glances at Aureia, eyeing her staff. “You’re fit for combat?”

She snorts. “More than you,” she says, gripping her staff. She presses a hand to her chest, calling on the power burning in her veins. It takes great focus to call it forth and channel it.

The one and only thing she is proud of.

He shoots her a lopsided grin. “You’re so certain of that,” he says, flipping a dagger in his hand. “And yet I hear you’re a novice adventurer—”

“And you talk too much. Are we killing this thing or not?”

The creature screams and drops from the sky, swooping in front of them.

“Right,” the stranger says. “For Lilira’s sake, please stay in harm’s way!”

The creature dives at her, claws raking at her face.

Aureia throws herself sideways, her focus shattered. Grunting, she skids across the dry earth and falls to a knee, planting her staff in the dirt. The stranger dives in front of her, daggers flashing in the sunlight, drawing the creature’s attention. Exhaling, she seizes the primal energy that lives deep within her and tugs. It channels through her staff, crackling with uncontrolled power, and bursts outwards, obscuring the creature in a whirlwind of flame. It howls in pain and collapses to the ground, its wings shredded and flaming.

The stranger drives a dagger through its eye.

A series of shrieks echo through the valley.

He sighs wearily and pushes a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Lovely,” he says. “It brought friends.”

She draws back, her next spell already forming in her mind. Power curls through her limbs, hair raising on the back of her neck. She feels so alive when she casts, brimming with energy. It’s exhilarating. “I see them!” she calls.

“Now, wait—”

Fire explodes from her. The spell hits the three approaching creatures in quick succession, dropping them like flies. They careen into the earth, crowing in pain, their wings shuddering and twitching. Aureia spins, the next spell channeled through her staff. Ice, this time—enough to chill them to the bone and freeze them where they lay.

Crystalline ice bursts in a whirlwind, pinning the dying creatures to the ground. The stranger grunts through gritted teeth and follows up with a series of quick slashes. He skids to a stop, daggers turning in his hand, and casts a glance over his shoulder.

“Not quite the novice I expected,” he calls, panting slightly. “Well done. We made quick work of them.”

Aureia nods, too breathless to retort. She sweeps a lock of hair behind her ear and walks forward on uneasy feet, leaning on her staff. A strange exhaustion tugs at her, urging her to move away and down the valley, to seek a place where she can close her eyes and rest. The compulsion is powerful—to powerful.

Panic twists in her gut.

“Perhaps I underestimated you,” the stranger continues, picking his way over the valley. He pauses, casting an eye to the outcropping, and frowns. “Lady Lilira? Do tell me you’re all right. Let’s not upset Papashan…”

His words fade in her ears. Aureia swallows hard, fighting the compulsion growing within her, but it’s too much. Too strong. She drags herself onward, stumbling through the dust and sand. Ahead, in the dirt, lies a small blue crystal, twinkling in the sunlight. If she but reaches it… perhaps she could sit down… and rest…

Where did you come from…?

She reaches the crystal and sinks to her knees, her hand sliding down her staff. It drops, thudding to the ground at her side. She scoops the crystal into her hands, cupping it between her palms. The light reflects brilliantly, its surface a mesmerizing, deep blue.

It calls to her.

The compulsion thrums within her, stronger than before. This time, she gives into it completely.

She collapses and darkness takes her.

***

The sultantree towers high above, its branches striking through a cloudless blue sky. Aureia opens her eyes, head pounding, confusion shaking her to her core. Her fingertips are buzzing, the trace of magic still alight within them. Has she been casting? But how… when…?

“Ah, coming around now.”

Aureia sits up abruptly, reaching for her discarded staff. The man—the stranger who tailed her—stands a little ways away, an easygoing smile on his face as he argues with the Lalafell noblewoman.

“Would you mind telling me what that was?”

“If only I knew! A denizen of the void, at any rate.”

“The voidsent? Here? But how?��

“The question isn’t ‘how’, but ‘who’—we’re not dealing with bookless bandits—” He cuts off sharply and turns, as if noticing her stirring for the first time. “Glad you’re awake, friend. I don’t suppose you have any thoughts to enlighten our current predicament? The answer didn’t happen to come to you in a dream, did it, now? No sooner did you fell the beast than you fell asleep. Too much aether, no doubt.”

Aureia grimaces and rams the butt of her staff into the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man’s eyes narrow. He cocks his head, folding his arms as he crosses his arms. “Oh, but I think you do.”

“And I think you think too much.”

He stares at her, caught off-guard, and laughs. “Suffice to say, that isn’t the first time I’ve been accused of such.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“If I may venture—perhaps the Crystal had something to do with it? Or is my speculation laughably wrong?”

Aureia blinks, a memory flooding her. No… not a memory. A vision. The Crystal and a voice, speaking to her. Calling to her. Choosing her. Or did she choose it?

“I wouldn’t say laughably wrong,” she says carefully, gripping her staff and pulling herself to her feet. “There might be some truth to what you say.”

He flashes her a grin as she approaches him. “Then please, do tell me more. There’s something at work here, and if my suspicions are correct, you may hold the key to it—”

“Is that why you’ve been following me?” Aureia interrupts.

“I…” He coughs and flushes, shooting her an apologetic look. “I wouldn’t say follow, no. Truth be told, I am only here for dear Lady Lilira. It’s a mere coincidence that Papashan asked for your aid in keeping her safe—”

“Liar.” She raises her chin and stands her ground, fixing him with an unblinking gaze. Though she is still lightheaded from her vision, her strength is returning. “I’ve seen you twice today, once in the Sapphire Exchange and again on the Steps of Nald. What do you want with me?”

He chuckles hesitantly and sweeps his hair out of his face. “Truly, Mistress Malathar, it is nothing more than the fact that you are simply a fascinating woman and a skilled adventurer to boot.”

Her eyes narrow. “What’s that thing on your arm?” she says, glancing at the contraption.

“This? Ah… well…” He laugh hesitantly and takes a step back, brushing it lightly with a hand. “Perhaps this conversation is best saved for later, perhaps in a less conspicuous place?”

“Or we could have it now. Your choice.”

The man drops his hand to his side. “Of course, of course… But perhaps we should think of poor Lady Lilira? We haven’t a moment to spare. I must return and report this at once—”

Aureia curses. A month’s worth of frustration bubbles up within her and she throws herself at the stranger. She’s barely aware of Lilira’s scream as she brings her staff down on him and raps him sharply on the side. He grunts, reeling back, and falls into a defensive posture, hands raised.

“Now here, wait just a moment—”

She yells, hoarseness strangling her voice, and swings her staff at him. He curses and dodges, ducking beneath her blow. Grunting with frustration, she twists around and levels another strike at him. He sidesteps quickly, dust churning at his feet.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says quickly. “Would you mind? Difficult to have polite conversation when you’re swinging a staff—”

Aureia barely hears him. With a frustrated yell, she charges, swinging her staff. He ducks, hair brushing across his face, and charges into her. She yelps in surprise and falls backwards, hitting the ground hard. Her hood flies free, dark hair falling around her shoulders, and she drops her staff. The stranger lands on top of her, breathing heavily.

“Now, then,” he says. His weight presses into her, pinning her to the ground. She stares up at him, red eyes blazing with rage, fingertips tingling with magic—and pauses. Now she’s face to face with him, he looks surprisingly sincere. Nothing like the dubious agents she’s been dodging ever since she left her homeland. “Is this really how you want to go about this? And in front of Lady Lilira, no less? What would the sultana say?”

She grits her teeth. “Get off,” she snarls, ramming her palm into his shoulder.

“Gladly,” he replies and rolls off her. He gets to his feet and brushes off his clothes, eyeing her carefully. “I see you’re not to be trifled with. My apologies. But I must away for now. I do hope I can leave Lady Lilira in your capable hands.”

Floundering in the dirt, Aureia sits up and presses her hands to the ground. “If I must,” she says, glancing at the terrified noblewoman. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint Papashan.”

The stranger smiles. “No. I think not.”

“How dare you pass me about like a swaddled babe!” Lilira shouts. “I shall return myself!”

He closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky, a weary look on his face. “As you wish, Your Impetuousness,” he says. Flashing Aureia a smirk, he gives her a small salute and strides off into the desert. “I suspect we shall meet again before long. Until then, do try to stay awake!”

She watches him go, a flurry of insults on the tip of her tongue. But it’s too late now. As furious as she is, he is not what she expected. Not a Garlean spy sent to track her down, nor an Alliance agent suspicious of her familial connections. He is something else—some unexpected third party, whose origins and motivations are unknown.

Whatever is he, she knows one thing for certain: he aggravates her like no one has before.

Sighing heavily, Aureia gathers herself and slowly gets to her feet. Strapping her staff to her back, she collects Lady Lilira and sets out into the desert. The sand caves beneath her with every step, a dozen questions circling her mind. Answers will have to wait. He did say he would meet her again. Somehow, she has no doubt he spoke the truth.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfic #aureia malathar #thancred waters #i don't know what i'm doing #i have scenes in my head and i'm slowly releasing them into the world #writing tag

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