#i keep it pretty vague intentionally
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Make It Worth It
Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: So many okay; body worship, HEAVY praise, multiple orgasms, oral (f,m receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it <3), creampie, hella petnames, fingering, kinda marking too, oh and cockwarming, a lil bit of a jealousy thing going, vague mentions of injuries
Genre: fluff & smut
Summary: The idea of you going on a date makes your friend confess feelings you didn't know they had
***
Meeting Marc Spector was something you'd consider a total fluke. A mishap with his suit had him limping down the street hardly able to hold himself up. Against... probably your better judgment, you brought him to your apartment- patched him up, got him some food, and let him crash on your couch. He was gone before you woke up in the morning and you honestly expected never to see him again. A couple of weeks later though he popped by to say thank you and introduce himself, you told him he could stop by if he needed help again. You didn't think he'd take you up on the offer but you were fast friends as you became his only confidante. Apparently, the vigilante life is not conducive to friendships, especially when you share your life with another; Steven Grant.
It was a while before Marc told you about Steven and you liked to call him Marc's best kept secret, considering Steven doesn't even know about it. It took even longer for you to meet Steven. Another mishap with Marc's suit had him frantically banging on your balcony door one night. You pulled open the door and he'd practically fallen into your apartment.
"Y/n! Hey!" He groaned.
"Jeez! I thought that stupid bird was meant to protect you Marc!" You crossed your arms.
"Help now, be mad later. Oh! And if I wake up and I'm not me, lie." He barely got the last bit out before he practically fell on you.
"Heavens above you still haven't told him the truth?" You groaned technically to yourself as you shoved a now unconscious Marc onto your couch. Even with him passed out you'd gotten more than enough practice patching him up that you had it so down that you were quick and efficient. He was out for quite some time afterwards, you even made dinner before he suddenly startled awake.
"Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing here?" The unfamiliar British accent immediately told you that night that Steven had woken up instead of Marc.
"Um- this is my apartment so that's where you are, I live here so that's what I'm doing here and my name is y/n. You're Steven right?"
"How did you know my name?" He'd looked at you suspiciously.
"I- I looked at your wallet for ID?" He does have his wallet on him so that lie was totally believable.
"Well why am I here?"
That was the question you were dreading from the moment Marc passed out on you.
"You were hurt so I brought you here."
"Hurt? Hurt how?"
"I- I didn't see it happen. You were hurt when I got to you." You shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. You didn't see Marc get hurt. The answer seemed to satisfy Steven at the time but maintaining separate friendships with Marc and Steven wasn't something you wanted to keep up long term. Hence, with some gentle nudging, Marc eventually revealed himself to Steven and you ended up having to help the duo navigate the new dynamic.
However, where you thought Steven was Marc's best kept secret; a new player had him beaten. A secret so well kept Marc didn't even know until after you did. And his name was Jake Lockley. Meeting him had actually happened intentionally on his end. Apparently tired of watching the back and forth between you and his alters he stepped in to meet you himself. You'll admit you and Marc toed the line pretty much since you met, flirting with each other but not obvious enough to change your dynamic, and once Steven got comfortable with you it was only too fun to tease him. So in came Jake; the hidden protector, questioning you and ultimately deciding you were safe for them to be around. He even trusted you enough to facilitate his introduction to the other two. Now you've got the whole trio you can call friends and they often tell you how instrumental they consider you in maintaining stability in their shared life. You really enjoy having them around most of the time even with how chaotic it can be covering for, patching up, and keeping track of their system.
Tonight, while you're finishing your makeup for a date, you hear a knock from the living room. You're not expecting anyone right now so when you leave your room and find Moonknight on your balcony you're not exactly surprised. You open the door and the suit disappears as he walks into your apartment.
"What're you all dressed up for?" Marc asks taking in your outfit.
"Hello to you too Marc." You roll your eyes.
"Hello. What're you all dressed up for?"
"I have a date tonight." You say with a shrug heading back to your room knowing Marc will follow you.
"A date? What date? You didn't tell me about any date."
"I don't have to tell you about dates."
"Why wouldn't you tell me though?"
"It's a first date Marc I'm not getting married. You're making it a much bigger deal than it is."
"It is a huge deal. You haven't been on a date since we met!"
"Thank you for pointing out that Marc yes this is my first date in a while. Did you come here for a reason? Doesn't that bird of yours have errands for you?"
"I always come here when I'm done with Khonshu's stuff. This is why it's a big deal you didn't tell me about this date. It throws off our routine!"
"Marc you coming here to eat my food after running around for skelo-bird is not set in stone."
"It is set in stone. If it wasn't we wouldn't do it every time."
"Well it's still early, so when I finish my date I'll text you and you can come back over and your routine will be fine."
"That's not the same."
"I dunno what to tell you sweetie, I have to leave, I'm meeting this guy in like 10 minutes."
"Don't go."
"Marc!"
"Come ooon I'm way more fun than whoever this random guy is anyway."
"You don't even know him."
"Neither do you. So stay."
"Let me get this straight, you want me to cancel my first date in over a year because it's more important that we watch a movie while you eat leftovers? Call me crazy but I'd personally rank those a little differently."
"I want you to cancel your first date in over a year because I don't want you to go on a date."
"Okay I know we're close but I feel like that's crossing a line a little bit. That's not really up to you."
"Princessa, are you intentionally misunderstanding him?" Jake's sudden appearance only further confuses you.
"No Jake. I genuinely have no idea what the deal is here and at this rate, I'm going to be late so one of you better start talking straight."
"He's jealous. He doesn't want you going on a date with anyone that's not... us, really. None of us do."
"All of this is about a crush? Bring Marc back out here." You roll your eyes.
"Look I did not send Jake out here to speak for me!"
"You are such a dunce." You smack his chest lightly.
"What?!"
"You don't want me to go on this date because you three like me and you couldn't just say that?"
"I dunno I guess I just didn't want to risk what we've already got, as friends." He says sheepishly.
"Say the words."
"What?"
"Say exactly why you don't want me going on this date and I'll cancel."
"I don't want you to go on this date because I have feelings for you. Stay home. I can make it worth it in any way you ask."
"Any way that I ask?"
"I'll worship you like a god if you want me to."
"Won't that make that silly old bird of yours a little jealous?"
"Let him be if he is. All that matters is you not going on this date and me showing you my gratitude."
"Alright, I'll call and cancel the date."
"Don't bother. Who cares if he gets ghosted?"
"First of all, I'm nice so I care; secondly that's the shit that gets women stalked."
"Oh please, as if he'd ever be able to hurt you with us around." Marc scoffs.
"Okay, bodyguard. The call will take less than two minutes and you'll have my attention the rest of the night." You say grabbing your phone and stepping into the living room. You notice Marc following you as you call your date.
"Hello?"
"Lewis! Hi, I'm sorry to do this so last minute but something has come up and I'm not going to be able to make it to dinner."
"Oh. Is everything alright? Do you need anything?"
"Uh- thanks but I'll be fine! I just gotta take care of a thing and I didn't wanna leave you sitting there waiting."
"Yeah no, thanks for letting me know. We can reschedule."
"Sure! Soon as I get a handle on things I'll reach out to reschedule." You say, ignoring the look Marc gives you.
"Alright no problem. Good luck with your thing." Lewis says before hanging up.
"You aren't actually rescheduling with him, are you?" Marc asks you.
"Probably not." You shrug.
"Probably?!"
"I already canceled the date for you once."
"You making this hard for me on purpose sweetheart?"
"Not at all. Just not sure how things are gonna go." You smile.
"How things are gonna go? I'm gonna show you that canceling that silly date was the right idea and that you don't need anyone other than us."
"Us? Steven and Jake are in on this too?"
"Of course they are."
"Well, that's a big promise Marc, how do you plan to show me all of that?"
"I'm going to start by kissing you. Is that okay?" Marc asks, pulling you towards him with an arm around your waist.
"Absolutely." You say draping your arms over his shoulder. Marc's free hand comes up behind your head as he kisses you hard. You gasp against his lips and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Without warning, Marc lifts you into his arms and easily carries you back to your room, not even phased when you pull away from the kiss to squeal. He tosses you onto your bed and climbs over you with a smile.
"You have no idea how crazy we are about you." Marc breathes out, trailing kisses down to your neck.
"Crazy about me? Is that right?" You ask, a moan punctuating your question as Marc latches onto a particularly sensitive spot to turn purple.
"Completely." He says softly, staring at you so intently you pull him towards you for another kiss to escape the look in his eyes. Marc pulls away to tug your already bunched up dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties as he looks you over. "Fucking hell you're even more gorgeous than I could've imagined." Marc groans.
"You spend a lot of time thinking about me naked darling?" You can't help but chuckle at the thought as you take the moment of silence on his end to pull his shirt over his head and drag your nails down his chest appreciatively.
"I plead the fifth." Marc groans and moves to litter your chest in more patches of red and purple as he reaches under you to unhook your bra. His hands cover your breasts as soon as they're free, palms kneading the flesh while fingers toy with nipples. The sudden onslaught of stimulation has little whimpers falling from your lips that Marc decides he can't get enough of. He pulls one of your nipples between his lips, sucking, nipping, and tonguing at it to test your reactions, discovering all the sounds you make from this alone. "You make such cute little noises." He chuckles switching from one nipple to the other, pulling all the same sounds from you. Eventually, Marc trails his kisses down your stomach, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. "So pretty." He whispers. He pulls your panties down your legs, kissing your thighs on the way down and back up. "I'm so going to enjoy this." Marc says before burying his head between your legs. He licks a hard stripe between your folds that makes you moan and his arms wrap around your thighs before you can even squirm. Marc's tongue swirls around your clit as he watches you, testing what pulls the best reaction from you. When a certain rhythm has your fingers tugging at his hair he settles into it, intent on making you cum like that. Whimpers and cries fall from your lips in quick succession as he sucks and laps at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You writhe and grind against him, although his grip on your thighs restricts your movement as he works you quickly towards an orgasm.
"Holy fuck Marc!" You groan, throwing your head back and pulling almost too hard at his curls but the man between your legs only lets out a pleased growl at the action. "Fuck I'm close." You pant out and Marc wraps his lips securely around your clit, sucking harshly until your legs tense and your orgasm crashes into you with a silent scream. Marc doesn't even let you fully ride out the high before his fingers slide into your opening. He curls the two digits just right and you can feel the pull in your abdomen when he brushes the spot inside you. Your back arches into him as he works you open with his fingers, his tongue still lapping at your clit, determined to pull another orgasm from you. Your second orgasm hits you faster than the first your entire body twitching while you let out the prettiest whine Marc's ever heard.
"My goodness." Although the voice is muted in your pleasure fogged brain, you don't miss the accent in his words.
"Steven?!" You blink at him, chest still heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in the situation he's just been thrown into.
"Hi. I can't imagine Marc did this on purpose I-" Steven's words trail as his head snaps to the mirror hanging on your closet door. "He did this on purpose." Steven looks at you and then back at the mirror. "Why would you do that Marc?!" You pull his gaze back to you by grabbing his chin,
"Steven, calm down." You say.
"Clearly I've missed a lot because how did you two even end up like this?" Steven asks and your giggle at his confusion quickly turns into a whimper when the action makes you distinctly aware of his fingers still buried inside you. "My god, help me." Steven breathes out at the sound from your lips. "If this was your act of gratitude why am I here?!" Steven asks to the mirror and you suppose Marc told him how you, in his words, ended up like this. Steven makes a face at whatever Marc says next and then turns to you with a look you can only describe as curious. Before you can question it, his fingers inside you move tentatively, making you moan. He's less sure of himself than Marc had been but he watches intently as he slowly strokes your inner walls, enjoying the way you react to him. "You're absolutely breathtaking."
"And you, are simply adorable." You say bringing him down to kiss him. Steven is obviously much more nervous than Marc was and you take the lead in the kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips as you explore his mouth with your tongue. It seems your reactions feed his confidence as his fingers gain speed the longer you kiss him and soon you're moaning too much to actually do it properly.
"I love the sounds you make." Steven sighs. You pull his fingers from you before he can make you cum again and he pouts at you until you guide the fingers between your lips. You suck them clean, enjoying the way Steven takes a shaky breath at the action. You use one hand to undo his jeans and pull them down his legs, pulling his fingers out of his mouth for him to get up and shove them the rest of the way down with his boxers. You lean forward and take Steven into your mouth, swallowing him down as far as you can.
"Oh god." Steven groans and his eyes roll as he tosses his head back. You bob your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you go, enjoying the way he moans and shivers.
"I love the sounds you make too darling." You hum dragging your tongue along the vein that runs the underside length of his dick. Steven hisses and you wrap your lips around him again.
"Holy hell you're... really good at this." Steven's praise is breathy and stuttery. You take him all the way into your mouth, feeling him in the back of your throat. Rather suddenly, you feel his fingers in your hair tugging you off of him.
"Now, it was my understanding that we were meant to be showing you gratitude." Your ears perk up hearing the accent change.
"Jake, yeah so I've been told." You hum.
"And yet here you are pleasing Steven instead of him worshiping you." Jake's thumb rubs along your bottom lip.
"Steven is just so much fun to tease." You smile.
"Tease him later princessa, tonight is about you. How lucky we are to have you in our life. How much of an honor it is to kiss you, to touch you, to please you." Jake intentionally speaks slowly, staring at you intently.
"You are... very good with words." You muse.
"Have our actions not supported them?"
"Marc definitely, and Steven- before I got my hands on him, yes. You however haven't done anything but talk." You smirk at him.
"Tell me what you want from me and it's yours. Anything you ask." Jake says.
"In other circumstances that would be... a dangerous promise to make. But tonight, I just want you inside me. I want you to make me cum on your dick."
"With pleasure." Jake pushes you onto your back and tugs your legs to pull you towards him. He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. Your back immediately arches at the fullness of Jake bottoming out and you can't help but moan. "Fuck you're so wet." He groans dropping his head to your shoulder for a moment. Jake sets a rhythm of sharp thrusts, deep but quick.
"Sh-shit Jake! Feels so good." You whine, dragging your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting and his thrusts pick up speed.
"God y/n you're perfect. So gorgeous. Taking this dick like you were made for us." Jake huffs out. One of his hands reaches between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. You squirm against his ministrations moaning as he drives into you repeatedly. "That's it princessa, moan for me, sounds so nice." He grits out, rubbing circles against your bundle of nerves. You grind against him, trying to bring your orgasm on quicker. "Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you let go around me. Please mi vida." Jake sweetly kisses you as he practically begs for your orgasm and a few thrusts later you're falling over the edge, nails digging into his back as he watches the way pleasure washes over your face. Once your eyes slowly peel open, Jake tightens his grip on your hips and changes the pace of his thrusts, slowing down now.
"You're gonna cum inside me aren't you Jake?" You ask with a pout specifically to get what you want.
"Mierda." Jake's eyes close for a moment. "Is that what you want princessa?"
"Yes Jake, please."
"I told you I'd give you whatever you ask me for." Jake shifts slightly before picking up the pace of his thrusts, they're sloppier now as he focuses on chasing his own release. "I'll pump you so fucking full, you'll be leaking. Fuck you'll look even prettier dripping like that."
"Please Jake, give it to me. Fill me up baby." You whine, grinding against him. His hips stutter and stop buried inside you and you the warmth of his orgasm inside you makes you moan. Before Jake can twist to lay beside you, you pull him onto you comfortable with the weight of him on you. "Don't move yet, let's just- lay like this for a bit, please." You say.
"Thank fuck you didn't go on that stupid date." Jake mutters and you giggle a little.
"Thank fuck you said something or I would've."
"Well, did we make it worth the stay?"
"I'd say so."
"Good. After a nap you can discuss the details, probably with Steven, he'll have the most to say." Jake mumbles into your neck.
"I'll have to talk to each of you ya know." You say.
"Sure but start with him. All I have to say is I think you're perfect, and we'd be lucky if you date us."
"You're not the only lucky ones." You say kissing the side of his face. Yeah. It might have been by pure chance that you crossed paths with Marc over a year ago but you're glad the rest of your decisions landed you here. Even if it's not the trajectory you saw that first interaction leading to, definitely worth it.
***
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marc spector#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#steven grant#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector smut#marc spector fluff#steven grant fluff#steven grant smut#jake lockley fanfiction#steven grant fanfiction#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley#jake lockley smut#jake lockley fluff#moonknight#moonknight fluff#moonknight smut#moonknight x reader#moonknight fanfiction
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five-finger discount
Pairing | Neil Lewis x Reader
Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blackmail, sex on camera, brief edging, creampie, cheating, cursing, Moth pretends to know anything about movies
Summary | You’ve been trying to make easy money, but you’re not as subtle as you thought. Some lessons need to be learned the hard way.
Words | 4.4k
Notes | FINALLY DONE. and vaguely inspired by 70s porn haha
MINORS DNI
INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – THRILLER AISLE – DAY
“No, it's not. That's not what she said. Someone is in trouble. Something bad is happening!” squawks a woman from the running TV in the background while your fingers trace over the backs of the VHS as you walk past the shelves.
1 PM on a Wednesday certainly is no rush hour at Gumshoe Video. Even the most annoying film bros don't come here at this time of day to flaunt their knowledge of the craft and subsequent absence of social skills. You're in the clear, pretending to deeply think about your choice in entertainment for the end of the day, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you spot the business owner, entranced by the film that he put on to pass the time, and you can see his plush lips silently mouthing along to the dialog. Cute. And easy to trick.
It's not your first time here. No, you made sure to become familiar with the place over the course of months now, learning where each genre and title has been sorted into its rightful place.
Certain old VHS-tapes can sell for a small fortune online, and for every tape you rent, you take one for free with the plan of selling it to the highest bidder. Currently, you have a stack at home, waiting for you to finally stop procrastinating and open up that damn eBay account.
Your pinky catches on a specific tape. 'A History of Violence', currently estimated to lure an additional 199 bucks into your greedy bank account. Quietly, you pull out the film, leaving a gaping hole in the neatly sorted row as you slip it into your purse.
With nimble hands, you try to rearrange the tapes to make the missing VHS a little less obvious, but in your haste, a few of them escape your clammy grasp and clutter to the ground. A head of silky brunette hair whips around, and you're met with pretty blue eyes as the store owner turns to face you.
You let out a giggle, trying to sound as vapid and innocuous as possible. You’re in character now. The persona you chose? An unassuming, ditzy little thing that’s hot enough to distract him, but stupid enough as to not get suspected of any wrong-doings. You’d say you’re a good actress. A fantastic one, even.
"Sorry," you purr, batting your eyelashes at him. "I'm a little clumsy today." You're already bending over to pick up the tapes when he makes his way over to lend a helping hand, and you make sure to show off your cleavage in an intentionally accidental way. You know he’s into you. You’ve been seeing the heat in his gaze for weeks now, along with the occasional crack in his voice and an almost endearing desire to impress you. It’s his biggest weakness and the reason your plan has been working flawlessly until now.
"Hey, hey, no worries. Uh, gravity wins sometimes. Don't sweat it," he grins at you, brushing his fingers against yours as the two of you work together to put everything back into place.
"What exactly were you looking for anyway?" he suddenly asks, breaking your focus for a second.
"Uh, Moonstruck," you mutter, completely on autopilot. The store owner nods, pursing his lips as he mulls over your answer. You’re aware of your blunder before he even answers.
"Moonstruck? Then you're in the wrong section. You know, with how often you come here, I thought you got the hang of our layout by now." Fuck, he’s got you. Play dumb. Play dumb!
Your poker face almost cracks, but you keep your composure. Or at least you try to. "Huh? Oh - I... right. God, I'm just all over the place today." You giggle again, relieved by the way his grin seems to soften. Hook, line and sinker. He may think he’s detective Sam Spade from ‘The Maltese Falcon’, but you’re Brigid O’Shaughnessy. Or he’s Batman and you’re Catwoman. Or – well, it doesn’t matter. Baseline is, you’re snatching tapes right from underneath his nose while he’s too busy fantasizing about what’s underneath your clothes.
The store owner speaks up again, lazily rubbing the back of his neck as he leans against the shelf, and his free hand wanders and gestures around a bit as if he’s trying to figure out which pose would look the coolest and most effortless.
“Right. Actually, that wasn’t really fair of me.” You tilt your head at him, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly which prompts him to elaborate. “Some of our tapes went missing. Y’know, some of the oldies and goldies? That’s why I didn’t stock Moonstruck this week.”
Your lips part in surprise, but all you can reply with is a soft ‘oh’. The store owner shrugs, leaning in towards you. There’s something conspiratory about his expression which makes your stomach churn a little. “Yeah. But I do still have it. It’s just in my office.”
There’s a beat of silence as you mull over the unspoken offer. Your plan is built on the one tape you always rent for cheap. No one would think you’re stealing if you’re actually paying for something, right? Despite this, you wonder if you should call it a day and head home with the stolen film hidden in your purse. Alibi be damned.
“I… That’s great. Uh, actually, I was just about to –“ he cuts you off with a casual wave of his hand, and the grin on his face widens once more.
“Don’t worry. I’ll even give you a discount. Just follow me.”
INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – NEIL LEWIS’ PRIVATE OFFICE – DAY
The private office of Neil Lewis, cinephile and pop culture enthusiast, is decorated with a distinct Film Noir charm, lovingly empathized by leather chairs and a checkered floor. Not to mention the letters on the door. He calls himself a private investigator. A joking title that makes you palms sweat ever so slightly. You notice that he set up a small camera on his desk, but he brushes it off as a regular procedure.
"So... Moonstruck,” he starts, gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you do. “Great pick. Just curious - Why did you go for that one?" The question makes you pause for a second.
"The... the cover spoke to me,” you casually lie, trying to sound somewhat cute, but it doesn’t land. Neil’s expression quickly betrays his skepticism, and his lips part while his narrowed gaze wanders around the room for a minute. "Hm. And what about the other one?"
"What do you mean?" Play dumb, play dumb, play – but he’s not letting you off the hook so easily.
"The other tape."
Silence fills the office, and you swear the VHS in your purse is starting to burn a hole right where it’s settled in your lap.
"Which... other tape? I just picked out this one."
"Ohhh, right. Sorry. My bad. Just… Moonstruck." The way he’s saying this makes it seem like he enjoys the taste of the letters on his tongue. You nod, a little too eager to get this conversation over and done with.
"So you won’t mind me looking through your purse?" Neil leans forward in his seat, folding his hands on top of his desk. Your eyes briefly fall onto the little desk name plate that’s undoubtedly just made out of shiny, golden plastic. But it does the job. It intimidates you. At least to a certain degree.
“No,” you lie through your teeth, trying to shrug off the tension. “I… it’s certainly no problem, Mr. Lewis. None at all.”
Neil lets out an apathetic sigh as he rises from his seat, causing the leather to squeak. His steps seem a little too confident for a video rental owner as he moves around the desk to first walk over to the door and lock it. “Neil is fine. I’m not a big fan of… formalities,” he starts, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders. His hands are gentle but firm, causing your body to warm right down to the deepest layers. To make his control over the situation even more apparent, he splays his hands, tracing your collarbone with his middle finger. It’s subtle enough that he could pass it off as a figment of your imagination if you should choose to speak up. But you don’t. You stay quiet, even as he leans down and you can hear the murmur of his voice right next to your ear.
“Open your purse.”
You bite your tongue, slowly opening your purse to find Cher’s face grinning back at you. It’s Moonstruck. In all of its romantic glory, and it makes both you and Neil freeze for a moment. You lick your dry lips, saying the first thing that comes to mind.
"That's mine."
"Yours?" You wouldn’t know, but his eyebrow twitches upward at your ridiculous claim.
"Yeah. A... personal copy." Great, now you’re doubling down.
"With my name on it?" Silence, yet again. You could basically hear the dramatic music that the producers of any reality TV shows use in the background of any tense scene. But this isn’t scripted. No, all of this is improvised.
"... what are the odds?" you croak, feeling how your throat goes dry in real time. Neil scoffs in reply, shaking his head, and his grip on your shoulders tightens a tad before he lets go entirely. His expression is stern as he steps in front of you, leaning against the desk and crossing his shapely arms over his chest. For a moment, he’s silent, letting his eyes wander all over your form in a slow, appreciative way that makes your palms get sweaty. “You do know I have to call the police, don’t you?”
“What?” Your breath hitches in your lungs, and you blink a few times, almost in an attempt to shake yourself out of this very strange dream. “This… this is just one tape. Isn’t this kind of excessive?”
“Yeah, maybe it’s one tape today. But you’ve been coming here for weeks.” Your jaw drops, but you can’t seem to come up with an appropriate response. You’ve been had. For the past months, you were convinced that he only saw you as a little piece of eye candy wandering through the store, but he’s been seeing right through you all along. Now you definitely don’t feel like Catwoman anymore. When he notices that you’re not going to say anything, Neil continues.
“Did you really think we don’t have security cameras all over the place? Well, I’ve been watching you the entire time, playing along when you pretended to be all ditzy and cute. It’s not just one instance. It’s a whole case, baby. And you’ll go to jail.” That makes you break out of your stupor, and you can feel your pulse speeding up.
“No- wait, no, no, no. Please, can’t we just talk about this for one second?”
“I don’t bargain with thieves.” He’s smug. Too smug for your liking, considering that he’s threatening you with the loss of your precious, precious freedom.
“Please, I’ll do anything,” you plead, fixing him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster in an attempt to appeal to the soft, awkward side of him. And he cracks. At least the tiniest bit.
“Maybe… maybe we can work something out. But I’ll need to search you first. Who knows what else you’re hiding.” He gestures for you to stand, and you get up from your seat, causing the leather cushioning to faintly squeak once again. “Spread your arms. To the side.”
Your expression settles into a pout, but you do as you’re told, much to Neil’s satisfaction. He returns to his previous position behind you and starts by touching your shoulders, slowly trailing his hands down your arms. His fingers leave tingles behind on your skin, and you’re even more aware of how close he’s gotten when you feel his breath on the back of your neck. His cheeky hands continue to wander, making their way down your sides, softly squeezing around your waist before he moves on to your hips. You try to think about it as a TSA search, but it’s a little hard to do when his hands linger for much longer than necessary on your thighs and your calves as he crouches down. Once he’s satisfied, he straightens back up, and you almost think he’s done before he leans in to rasp into your ear.
“You’re gonna have to take your clothes off… so I can search you more thoroughly.”
Your heart skips a beat, and you’re about to protest, but he’s already pulling your top off, tossing it aside before he moves on to your shorts. A sigh escapes him as he pulls them down along with your panties, and he doesn’t give you even a second to recover before he’s gripping and caressing the curves of your body. Leaning his chin on your shoulder, he runs his fingers over your hips, feeling how your skin warms beneath his touch. “Take your bra off.”
“What? There’s no way I could be hiding a tape in there –“ In response, Neil lightly pinches your thigh, causing you to jump a little and let out a soft whine. Seems like there’s no way around it. With shaky hands, you reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra, and Neil leans back ever so slightly to give you the space to move. That is, until your tits are exposed, and his body is glued against yours once more. The feeling of his hardening cock pressing up against your ass sends heat into your core, and you instinctively clench your thighs together. Of course, this catches his attention.
“Ah, so you are hiding something.”
He wraps his arms around you, steering the two of you over to the mirror he hung on the wall next to his ridiculous little costume rack. You watch your own flushed expression as his hand slips between your legs to let his fingers trace over your already wet folds. With a groan, you try to avert your eyes before he corrects you with a rough grope of your breast.
“No. Eyes on yourself. I want you to see the guilt on your face while I search you.”
Reluctantly, your eyes return to the mirror, just in time for him to plunge a finger into your velvety pussy. Your lips part, and as much as you’d like to keep quiet, your resolve crumbles immediately when he finds that sweet spot inside of you. Within minutes, the office fills up with the sounds of your pleasure and the obscene squelching of his fingers in your wet cunt. And he’s thorough in his search, quickly working you up from one finger to three, making your toes curl against the checkered floor. For a moment, he drives you up to that delightful edge, only to pull his fingers out of you at the last second.
You don’t have the capacity to complain when he lifts his hand towards the light, showing off his glistening digits. Both of you are entranced by the sight, and Neil lets out a soft wheeze before he licks his fingers clean.
“Yeah, I made up my mind. Get over to the desk and bend over.”
“I have a boyfriend,” you whine, turning your head to give him your biggest puppy dog eyes.
“Well, you should’ve thought about it before you stole from me. Losing those rare tapes was a financial disaster for me. I’m risking this store. And I’m not gonna do it without something in return.” He finishes his sentence with a light smack to your ass which only manages to get you even more riled up. It’s hard to disagree with him when he knows just how to get you going.
Neil drags you back over to the desk, angling the camera in just the right way before he hurriedly tears his clothes off completely. The sight of his urgency makes your chest fill with butterflies, but you still need to protest. You have to!
“I don’t usually do this… what if my boyfriend finds out?”
“That’s one more reason to behave. You wouldn’t want him to see this little clip, right?” he asks, although the question is entirely rhetorical. You’d love to feel guilty, but you can’t bring yourself to it.
His hands run from your shoulders down to your hips, kneading your flesh with the attentiveness of a potter crafting a masterpiece, and he leans over you to place open-mouthed kisses down your spine. You shiver, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle the noises that are threatening to escape your mouth. With a quick movement, Neil reaches under your knee to guide your leg on top of the desk, and you let out a soft sigh when you can feel your arousal rolling down the inside of your thigh as he spreads you open with two fingers.
“You know… nice girls wouldn’t get this wet in situations like these. Then again, you’re a filthy thief, so you’re the furthest thing from a good girl.”
Neil wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest so he can latch back onto the side of your neck, sucking and biting while he uses his other hand to guide the tip of his cock against your drooling entrance. His naked skin against yours fills your head with need, and you press up against him a little more to feel him more closely as he slowly pushes inside your velvety cunt. Both of you let out a hiss, and Neil follows it up with a needy whimper as he stills for a moment.
“Fuck… oh fuck,” he breathes, causing your lips to twitch up in subtle amusement. Neil’s hand shakes as he adjusts the camera, making sure to get everything in frame, and in this moment, you clench around him on purpose, causing him to moan right into your ear. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that –”
The slap to your ass is meant to punish you, but it’s doing the exact opposite, and you let him know this by moaning his name. His lips return to your pulse as he pushes his cock deeper into you, stretching you so perfectly that it sends goosebumps over your skin. Or maybe it’s because of his warm breath on your ear. Or his hands diligently kneading your tits. The cocktail of heated touches and sensations is literally making you feel drunk.
“Your cock feels so good,” you whine, causing him to suck in a sharp breath at the praise.
“Yeah?” he chuckles, bottoming out inside of you before he starts to set a slow, sensual rhythm. “You’re such a depraved little slut… getting off on your punishment. If only your boyfriend knew.”
Neil rolls his hips against yours, drawing a moan from both of you that would fit perfectly on the set of a porno. Maybe you’re hamming it up a little to feed his ego. But that isn’t very hard to do when he fills you up so deliciously, making you wetter with every thrust.
You’re already starting to feel breathless when he slowly speeds up, drilling into your dripping pussy with even more fervor. Words are starting to become a little difficult, but you try your best anyway. “You’re better than him. SO much better –“
Your reward is a second smack – aimed at your chest this time.
“You’re damn right I am,” he groans, sucking another hickey into your skin and adding to the little necklace of bruises he’s been placing around your neck. “Suck these for me, will you?”
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but it doesn’t last long when he brings his fingers up to your mouth, and you eagerly latch onto his digits, still faintly tasting yourself from earlier. You suck them down to the knuckle, running your tongue in between them in a way that makes him groan and pound your cunt even harder. Once his fingers are sufficiently coated in your saliva, he pulls them free from your lips and reaches between your legs to rub your clit.
The one leg you’ve been standing on threatens to give out immediately, but he holds you up with his other arm, and gently guides your hands into place to better support yourself on the desk. Neil nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing heavily against the shell of your ear.
“If you promise not to steal ever again, I might let you cum on my cock.”
His words are intercepted by quiet grunts and whimpers, and you find yourself agreeing pretty quickly, blabbering out promise after promise.
“I’ll never – never steal again! I swear, I swear, I swear, please! Please, please let me cum –!”
You’re almost not recognizing your own voice due to the desperately needy tone that’s laced through your pleading, but Neil doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, really, because you can feel his thrusts picking up in intensity. He rewards your obedience by rubbing your clit a little faster, and you have to bite your knuckle as to not cry out his name. Fuck, it’s only noon and you’re approaching your release at breakneck speed.
“Fuck… I – I’m close,” you breathe, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder. His teeth are back in your neck as he kisses and bites at your skin, and his voice sounds strained as he answers you.
“Go ahead… let go for me. If only your boyfriend knew, hm?”
That’s it. Your orgasm rips through you, and you let out a whine as you claw at the surface beneath you. Neil is generous enough to let you ride out your climax, but you can tell how impatient he is when he suddenly pulls out, swallowing heavily.
“On your back.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. It’s a little awkward, but you manage to scramble and reposition yourself, lying back against the desk and looking up at him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Neil is in the same state, licking his lips and swallowing dryly as he guides his cock back into your cunt, aided by his thumb on the base of his length.
“Fuck… how can you still be this tight? Shit, FUCK…” He’s cursing and muttering under his breath, having half a brain to readjust the still rolling camera as to not miss a single second. His hands guide your legs around his waist, and he leans over you, staring at you through blown out pupils that clash against the vibrant intensity of his ocean gaze. His pretty face is red, and sweat beads on his forehead, causing his hair to stick to his skin. Without thinking, you reach up to push it back, causing both of you to still for a second before Neil finds his tone again.
“M’gonna fill you up… and send you back home to your boyfriend with a creampie in that pretty cunt. Alright? Alright.”
You can only nod in response, hearing your own racing heartbeat in your ears along with his continued grunts and moans. His hands on you are gentle, but his thrusts definitely aren’t as he pounds you against the desk. Neil’s hips smack against yours, causing every novelty item around the two of you to tremble along to your feverish rhythm. You tilt your head back but he goes after you, finally capturing your lips in a hungry kiss that he’s been trying to hold back from the entire time. But now that he’s rapidly approaching his own climax, the self-restraint is completely out of the window.
Your tongues clash, and you moan into his mouth when his hands find yours, linking your fingers together. Neil’s lips faintly taste of iced coffee as he licks against your tongue, and your grip on his hands tightens when his movements start to become erratic.
Your lips stay locked the entire time, even as he lets out a guttural groan when he finishes inside of you, thrusting into you a few more times to push it in as deep as possible. Finally, he stills and pulls away from you, unable to resist stealing one last peck from your swollen lips. You’re still breathing heavily as his hands roam over your body once more, relishing the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. Now that he has material on you and you promised not to steal again, he’s gentle. Almost too gentle, and you have to clear your throat to snap him out of it.
Neil catches himself, blinking down at you with soft eyes while he wipes some sweat off his brow. There’s a subtle twitch in his lips that tells you that he’d love to keep touching you, but he’s aware of the setting you’re in. Almost reluctantly, he pulls out of you to let you retrieve your clothes. While you’re getting dressed, he checks the camera and stops the recording before he speaks up.
“You’re free to go, then. You know what happens if I catch you stealing again, right?”
The question prompts you to nod in response, and you mumble out a “yes” as you pull your top back over your head. Once Neil confiscates the VHS from your purse, you’re free to exit the store on trembling legs, cringing a little at the feeling of your combined fluids leaking into your underwear. But God, this heist was worth it.
INT. YOUR PLACE – LIVING ROOM – DAY
As expected, the house is quiet when you get home, and you let out a deep, satisfied sigh as you throw yourself onto the couch to decompress for a moment.
Not even 20 minutes pass until the front door opens, and you hear familiar footsteps. A lazy smile spreads over your face, and you sit up, watching you boyfriend as he kicks off his shoes and throws his jacket over the coat rack on the wall. He makes his way over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, and your vision is filled by ocean eyes and faint freckles. Neil chuckles softly, placing the camera onto the coffee table before he sinks down on the couch next to you and pulls you close. “I’m glad Lucien agreed to take over the rest of the day.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes when he brushes his fingers through your hair to massage your scalp.
“I think that was our best one yet.”
FIN.
tags: @ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24 @detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls (couldn't tag) @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411 @ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines
#neil lewis x reader#neil lewis x you#neil lewis smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#watching the detectives#.moth writes
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Eddie, My Love!
eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series
Day 4 Prompt: Baking 🍰 ~ 1,700 words
you bake some cupcakes for your handsome older neighbor, Eddie.
(implied age gap, intentionally vague)
You wipe sweat off your brow with the back of your hand, leaving a smear of frosting on your forehead.
This process has taken up more of your day than you expected it to, but you’ll spend as much time as necessary to get this right, because it’s for Eddie Munson.
Your handsome older neighbor has been occupying an alarming amount of space in your mind lately. It’s a recent development; you’d been moved into the new house for quite some time before you actually met him. He seemed to keep odd hours, and you only ran into him by chance one day, when you were both walking to the corner store up the road.
At first glance he was intimidating, with his long hair and all his leather, but he chatted with you easily during the whole impromptu excursion. Once inside the market he quickly bought his pack of cigarettes and then insisted on staying with you, so he could escort you back home, too.
He dragged on a Lucky Strike as he strolled down the sidewalk, his pretty face silhouetted against the setting sun in the distance, and you couldn’t look away. He left you at your door with a cheeky grin and a “Good to finally meet you. ‘Night, little lady.”
If those words had come out of anyone else’s mouth, you’re not sure what your reaction would have been. But spoken by Eddie? Your knees had gone weak.
Since then he seemed to be popping up more and more frequently. Every time you happened to glance out the window he was there. Sprawled out in a wicker chair on his porch, a paperback held flat against his knee; peering under the hood of his car, tinkering away on the engine; he even stopped by a few times when the weather got cold, offering to shovel the snow from your driveway and scrape the ice off your windshield, each time armed with a charming smile and a twinkle in his eye.
The self-indulgent part of you wants to believe it’s because he likes you, and so he’s making an effort for you to see him; the more rational part of you knows you’re seeing him now because you want to see him.
Regardless, you were thinking that you wanted to do something nice for him. Some neighborly gesture that’ll give him some indication of your interest, without requiring you to be too forward. You just hope that he’ll pick up on what you’re putting down.
The kitchen table is a mess of baking utensils and splatters of cake batter, but you’re pleased with the results. Six red velvet cupcakes iced — and filled — with cream cheese frosting and pink sprinkles are all neatly arranged on a platter, just waiting to be carried over to Eddie’s house. The heart-patterned liners feel appropriate but also a tad cheesy, maybe even overkill; but if he seems weirded out by the whole thing, you’ll just tell him they’re leftover from a batch you planned on taking to work.
You lose the apron and wash your hands in the sink, then skip to the bathroom to give yourself a final once over. You clean the frosting off your face, and fix your hair nervously with your fingers. Quit stalling.
You slip a coat on, and keep your hands as steady as possible as you carry the platter cautiously outside. Small, quick steps lead you to Eddie’s doorstep, and you balance the edge of the tray against your hip so you can rap your knuckles on the door.
The seconds tick by, and the door finally swings open. Eddie’s in black sweats and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, hair looking wild and disheveled; his eyes look puffy with sleep, but they light up when he realizes who he’s looking at.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice husky from his afternoon nap. “What can I do for ya?”
“Hi,” you respond, soft and breathy with nerves. Your mouth opens to continue and then snaps shut again, a realization of horror creeping upon you: the lines you’ve been practicing in your head all day have evaporated into nothing. Poof! They’re gone, and now you’re standing here like an idiot.
Eddie stares at you curiously. You thrust the tray forward clumsily, any illusion of poise shattered. “These are for you!”
He looks startled. “Those are for me?” he repeats, like maybe he misheard you.
You nod.
Now he’s the one at a loss for words. “Thank you,” he says automatically, gazing down at the dessert-laden plate clutched between your hands. He shakes his head as though trying to clear it, and steps back inside the house, gesturing for you to enter. “Here, come inside. You’re not gonna have me eat these all by myself now, are you?”
You suck in a quick breath and scurry over the threshold, entering Eddie’s home for the first time. It’s a little messy but surprisingly cozy, with a squashy-looking furniture set and knick knacks on every flat surface. Music posters hang in black frames along the walls, showcasing a lot of long-haired men who, quite frankly, all look sort of the same to you, although they’re apparently all different bands.
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch, “and I’ll get us some napkins.” You gingerly perch yourself on the soft leather cushion, while he disappears further back into the house, presumably into the kitchen. When he returns he plops down in the seat next to you, taking the platter and setting it down on the coffee table with a pile of napkins. Then he stifles a yawn as he slumps back into the couch.
You feel bad. “Were you asleep? I’m so sorry if I woke you up.”
He waves you off. “Don’t worry, my alarm went off a few minutes ago. If I don’t set one when I nap, I’ll sleep the whole day away. These old bones are tired, you know,” he jokes.
You shake your head in disagreement. “You’re not old.”
He pokes your shoulder. “I’m old next to you.”
You try to laugh but there’s a pang in your heart. Is he trying to tell me something? You wring your hands, and don’t reply.
Eddie peers at you with a gentle smile on his lips, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Did you make these yourself?”
“I did indeed.”
“They look amazing.” He picks one up and takes a large bite, the frosting smearing clean up his nose. You giggle through a bite of your own dessert.
“What?” he says thickly, giving you a deadpan stare. “Something on my face?”
Hesitantly, you reach out with your napkin, wiping the sugary cream from his nose and upper lip. He scrunches his face but pushes into your hand, letting you clean him up. A thrill shoots through you at being able to touch him, even if it’s through a paper barrier.
“Thanks, sweetheart. These are incredible, by the way. Thank you for bringing them.”
“Of course.”
He clears his throat, and sets his cupcake down on the table so he can give you his full attention. “If you don’t mind me asking, um…why did you bring them?”
You’re answer evasively, still unsure of how he sees you. “Because I thought you’d like them.”
He gives you that penetrating stare again, and it’s like you’re being swallowed up in those dark irises. You feel as though he must see right through you, all your intentions laid bare.
“Thank you for thinking of me. You’re real sweet for that.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Do you do this for all your neighbors?”
“No. But my other neighbors don’t walk me home from the corner store and shovel my sidewalk.”
He purses his lips, as though he’s deep in thought, although still half-teasing you. “I see. So these cupcakes are purely transactional?”
You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s not really giving anything away, and this game is too hard for you to keep playing. “Well, no. I also…just wanted to do something nice for you. To make you happy.”
His face is impassive. “Rest assured, you’ve certainly done that.” He leans in closer to you, hand rubbing his chin pensively. “But you know what would make me even happier?”
You hold your breath. “What’s that?”
“If you stayed for dinner.”
Your heart leaps with joy. “You mean it?”
“Yes.” His warm expression suddenly flickers with worry. “But only if you really want to.”
“I really want to, Eddie.”
There’s a brief silence, and the energy in the room shifts. Eddie lets his hand wander over to your knee, gazing at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I like it when you say my name,” he whispers, staring unabashedly at your lips.
Feeling both validated and bold, you close the distance separating the two of you. “I’ll just bet,” you whisper, letting your smiling lips ghost over his with every word.
Strong, tattooed hands hold both sides of your face as Eddie finally seals his mouth to yours in a kiss. It starts out firm but gentle, and you sigh; his tongue slips in between your parted lips, sugary-sweet, and you press your body closer to his. He moves to embrace you tightly, winding one arm around your waist, and cupping the back of your head with his other hand, his kisses becoming deeper and more frantic.
He suddenly breaks away, gasping.
“Everything okay?” you ask dazedly, not finished with him.
He laughs. “Everything’s perfect,” he reassures you. “I’ve been hoping this would happen. But I want you to know, regardless of what happens in the next few minutes, I really do want to cook for you.”
You melt, fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. “You’re a really nice guy, you know that?”
He brushes your kiss-swollen bottom lip with a calloused thumb. “I’m glad you think so.”
His tone confuses you. “Others don’t?”
“I have a certain look.”
“I like how you look.”
He presses another quick kiss to your lips. “You’re a sweet girl,” he says quietly, echoing his statement from earlier.
You fall back into him, and although it’s several hours later, Eddie makes good on his promise. Over dinner, he poses the question again, “You know what would make me even happier?”
You bite, fingers intertwined with his. “What would make you even happier?”
“If you just stayed.”
thank you for reading!! xoxo
Valentine's Day Special Masterlist
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader
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It had all started in Photography 101.
All he had needed was one more elective added to his schedule for the fall semester to be considered a full-time student. It was Robin who had suggested photography.
Steve had never had that great of a memory to begin with, the numerous blows to the head from juvenile high school fights certainly doing him no favors. Sometimes the amount of time it took to jog Steve’s memory surpassed the time it would’ve taken to simply tell him the story as if he hadn’t been there himself.
He was always able to grasp the memory eventually, but sometimes they were slippery in his mind.
He and Robin had found that his memory was ten times better if he had something to look at. Sometimes that was a souvenir from a trip, sometimes it was a takeout menu with his order circled in red pen, sometimes it was a physical scar on his skin from some silly injury. But most of the time it was pictures.
Steve took to taking photos of everything. His friends, his food, the landscape, a book with a pretty cover, anything he wanted to be able to remember.
The walls of his room grew to be covered with polaroids and prints, some staged, most not. Many blurry and out of focus, but in the moment just the same.
So when Robin suggested Photography 101, Steve saw an opportunity to take something he did for his own benefit and turn it into something he really enjoyed, something he was good at.
The semester was a breeze and Steve flourished under the attention of his professor. He was constantly drowning in compliments about the movement in his photos and his eye for composition.
(Robin would tell him on several occasions that she had never seen him enjoy something this much.)
By the time the semester was coming to a close, he was left with one final project. The professor had been intentionally very vague in her description of it throughout the semester, so Steve was a little on edge.
Sitting in the front row of the small classroom, he twirled the strap of his camera around his fingers while he daydreamed. The room slowly filled and the professor settled in behind her desk.
About five minutes after class was supposed to have begun Steve noticed they were all still sitting in silence. Glancing at the professor he saw her brows furrow and a frustrated lilt to her lips as she looked at her watch.
What are we waiting for?
She stood and dusted off her pants before clapping her hands together.
“Well,” she began, “I guess we can go ahead and get start–”
The door at the back of the room swung open and knocked against the wall with a resounding slam.
“Shit! Fuck! So sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”
Steve is so caught off guard by the man who just burst into the room that he barely even registers the words he’s saying.
He’is tall and all lanky muscle, dark curls and jewelry, tattoos and the smell of smoke, chains and leather and everything Steve’s not. Everything nobody in this class is.
He’s even more caught off guard when his professor laughs and pulls the man into a tight hug. There are only five other students in this class, surely he’s not the only person confused.
He keeps an arm around her shoulders as she introduces him to the group.
“Guys, this is Eddie. He’s a family friend and he’s going to be your subject for your final project.”
Steve’s own eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand how this was the project she has been keeping under wraps. They’ve had plenty of portrait sessions this semester, with models and subjects of their choice alike.
The guy, Eddie, claps a hand to his chest in a dramatic show of faux humility.
“Thank you for having me, Joyce. It's such an honor to be here.”
She smacks at his arm and carries on.
“So, Eddie is your subject and you have no parameters. The only requirement is that he is the inspiration for your shoot. This can look like a standard portrait session, this can be contemporary urban street photography, whatever you like. Eddie does not even have to be in the photo! He just has to be the inspiration for it.”
Steve's brain is already running a mile a minute, conceptualizing shots faster than he can keep up.
Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.
But one idea sticks out from the rest. As Steve lifts his eyes to Eddie once more and meets his own twinkling with mirth and smirking back at him he makes his decision.
He’s going to take his mugshot.
*****
“I want to take your mugshot.”
They’re at the campus coffee shop. Joyce had scheduled a few hours for Eddie to meet with the other students during their class time so they could talk through their projects.
Eddie barks out a laugh. “What, man?”
Steve twirls his straw around his drink and tries not to bristle at the reaction.
“Look,” he starts, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I don’t really know where the idea originated but once I had it, it stuck. I just saw this vision of the shot in my head and it was sick, dude.”
Eddie leans back in the booth, one of his boots knocking into Steve’s foot under the table. He crosses his arms and tilts his head.
“Thought this shoot was supposed to be inspired by moi,” he says, gesturing a hand towards himself. “You saying I look like I should be in jail?”
Steve groans and puts his head in his hands. “No. I already told you I don't know where i got the idea–”
But that’s a lie isn’t it. He knows exactly where he got the idea. It was somewhere between the chains dangling from Eddie’s jeans and the handcuff belt he was wearing the day they met.
He put his hands together on the table between them. “Okay. No, I’m not saying you look like a criminal, Eddie. I’m saying I think you want to look like one.”
Eddie blinks at him for a moment before his face breaks into a slow smirk. He huffs a quiet laugh and leans closer. “Guilty as charged, Stevie. Besides, I was arrested once actually.”
Steve gawks while Eddie laughs. He is unfairly attractive when his dimples pop and Steve is going to have such a hard time holding it together behind the camera.
*****
Steve takes his shoots very seriously. Every detail has to be perfect, even the ones not relating to the subject of the photo.
So it is wildly convenient that his professor happens to be married to the chief of police back in Hawkins.
One quick phone call from Joyce and Steve and Eddie were granted access to the booking room at the police station. You know, for the sake of realism.
Steve’s setting up his tripod while Eddie takes a chalk marker to the placard and writes up his own booking ID, a long series of random numbers with E.M at the end.
Steve would be lying if he said Eddie’s choice of clothing wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.
He’s wearing a ratty, old band t-shirt for some group Steve’s never heard of. There’s his usual black leather jacket and the silver chain around his neck. His ripped black jeans and fingers covered in rings and black nail polish.
It's perfect for the shoot. But Steve’s sanity is struggling.
He gets the camera and the lighting set up just as Eddie steps into place in front of the height measurement wall.
Steve puts his hands on his hips and gives instructions.
“Okay, so I know you’ve done this before–”
“Hey! It was one time!”
“So you know how this goes. We’ll do one forward and then one to each side.”
Eddie shakes out his hair and rolls his shoulders back. He holds the placard up in front of him and levels the camera with a dead-eyed stare.
He looks good.
Steve is less than shocked that he looks even better on camera.
He lines up his shot. Click.
Eddie turns to his left. Steve gets a little distracted by the line of his jaw.
Click.
He turns to the right and of course only now does Steve notice his ear piercings.
Steve takes a deep breath and focuses.
Click.
Before he can even look through his shots Eddie is dropping the placard on the desk.
He’s halfway out the door before he grabs the frame and leans back in. “One second pretty boy, I have an idea.”
He’s back before Steve snaps out of his stupor at the nickname. This time, he has a pair of handcuffs swinging from his index finger.
Steve snatches them out of his hand. “Where did you get these?”
Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “I know a guy.”
He rolls his eyes.
He’s already picking up the placard and setting up some detail shots when Eddie grabs his wrist and stops him. He freezes for more than one reason.
“Hey, uh. Not to step on your toes or anything, but I actually have another idea.”
Steve is about to start on his spiel about ‘not messing up his flow’ when Eddie rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist. Gentle and reassuring.
“Do you trust me?”
Honestly Steve has no reason to trust him, he’s basically a stranger.
A pretty one. His brain supplies.
But he does. Trusts him enough to let him take Steve’s creative liberties and throw them out the window apparently.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Eddie’s smile is blinding. He turns Steve’s hand over and drops the handcuff key into it.
“Don’t lose this big boy,” he says as he snaps the cuffs around each of his own wrists.
Steve laughs, loud and shocked. He waggles his eyebrows at Eddie.
“Well, now didn’t this take a turn.”
Eddie rolls his eyes this time and lifts his hands as much as he can.
“Don’t try to sexualize my creative prowess, Steve. I am a professional.”
He nearly trips on his way back to his place in front of the wall and Steve has to hide his laugh into a cough.
Steve’s back behind the camera, hands back on his hips when he asks, “Alright, what’s the plan?”
Eddie smiles and says, “You just shoot, Harrington. I’ll do the rest.”
He leans down to finalize his camera settings and line up his shot. When he finally looks through the viewfinder his jaw drops. Because while Eddie was clearly joking about being a professional, if Steve didn’t know any better, this shot would have him believing it.
Eddie’s got both of his pinky fingers tucked in the corners of his smile, tongue bitten between his teeth. His thumbs are raised along with his middle fingers, while he’s got his nose scrunched and one eye squeezed shut. The cuffs hang right under his chin and accentuate his silver jewelry in a way Steve never would have anticipated.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The next is a close-up of the booking placard between his teeth.
His hands twisting to unlock his own cuffs.
He’s a natural, and Steve’s camera roll can attest to the fact.
It wouldn’t be until Steve was reviewing and editing the shots that he caught on. The booking ID on the placard looked long because it was. It was Eddie’s number.
*****
Steve got an A.
He got an A, an endless stream of compliments from Joyce and a dorky hot boyfriend.
The rest of the class went the route Steve expected them to.
Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.
But Steve’s mugshot series stood leagues above the rest.
Later in their lives, when one of their friends would see the photo in Steve’s wallet they would ask when Eddie got arrested and why.
It quickly became a game between the two.
He’s been arrested in high school for selling drugs (True.)
When he was twenty for public indecency.
At twenty-two for arson.
Thirty for contract killing. This one was followed up with the claim that he was in witsec and was now going to have to change his identity and flee the country.
But the real when and why Eddie got arrested is because when he was twenty-one Joyce told him there was a nice boy in her class that she thought he should meet.
#photographer x mugshot au#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#one thing about me: my Eddie is going to be a jackass in every universe#also not to toot my own horn#BUT#Joyce being the professor? when her son??? is a photographer?? who probably learned it from her????#toot toot bitch#its canon I don't make the rules#can you guys tell I am a photographer be honest#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#gin writes#fin gin#shot of gin#steddie nation#come get y'all juice
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Phee, New, and a Masterful Misdirect
I know I already said as much, but this week drove home again how strong DFF's writing is. Because the way this show used Phee to throw us off the scent until the end game was so, so smart.
In the first four episodes, our attention was deliberately drawn to Phee. He was established as part of one of the two romantic pairings, and we were encouraged to wonder wtf was up with his relationship with Jin. We were also given many subtle hints that Phee was acting suspicious and seemed to be intentionally investigating the boys, while Tan stayed kind of vague and in the background. Tan seemed to know Phee better than the rest, and many guessed he might be helping Phee, but for the most part, the focus was on Phee.
Then as we moved into the flashback, Tan disappeared for four entire episodes, while we get a major reveal about Phee's relationship with Non and lots of time spent on its dissolution. So of course, the prevailing theory becomes that Phee is the one orchestrating this whole investigation and tormenting these boys in the woods. And the assumption is that he's doing this because of his deep love for Non, his shame for not supporting Non when everything hit the fan, and his conviction that he was done wrong. Tan is once again assumed to be helping him, though theories differed on why, with some guessing he was Non's brother and some speculating on other reasons.
But it turns out, Phee isn't running this operation at all. "Tan" is New, and he has been the driving force the entire time. It's his guilt over leaving Non alone to go abroad that motivates him to investigate, and he pulls Phee along with him.
And Phee? Well, he's not quite as broken up about Non's death as we thought. Sure, he wants to understand where Non went and why, for closure. But he doesn't seem to be carrying any huge burdens of guilt or shame, which makes sense because aside from Non's screenplay that alludes to culprits he doesn't name, he doesn't actually know the truth about Non's situation with Keng or what any of these boys did. He jumps into a romance with Jin incredibly quickly, and it's clear the attraction and his feelings are genuine even as he justifies it to New by claiming it's for the investigation. He takes Jin to the place where he asked Non to be his boyfriend, so apparently this is not something he holds sacred. The morning after he has sex with Jin, Phee is in Jin's room while he's asleep, and does not take the opportunity to investigate. Instead he moons over Jin, cuddles up to him, and instigates morning sex. He is still staring off into space smiling to himself about it until New accuses him of cheating on his brother, at which point he remembers what he's supposed to be doing, makes his excuses, and puts up walls with Jin.
And from then on, they don't seem to learn much of anything, and I suspect that Phee doesn't really want to, because he likes Jin and doesn't want to know what he did to Non. Phee, as it turns out, is just an immature high school boy who liked his boyfriend, but moved on pretty quickly once it was over. He would not be doing any of this if it wasn't for New, and it's clear his heart isn't in it. New is the one who feels deep guilt, who wants to learn what the group did to Non, and whose trauma compounds until he snaps and hatches a plan to trap them at the vacation house and dose them with hallucinogens. Phee goes along with it, but as we saw, his motive seems to be more about reconnecting with Jin before he leaves the country than actually caring about punishing these boys for what happened to Non.
What a great, nuanced little twist to this reveal. New has been the one running the show the whole time, and the show managed to keep that from us via a classic misdirect with Phee. I love that this show manages to keep finding ways to surprise us even when we have some of the picture figured out.
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this is our 'ok, now a silly one' era. our cringe compilation era. our 'self awareness is no longer a curse' era.
we have never, and hopefully never will be, a band who are mysterious by design. i have gotten nowhere in life through the use of intentionally vague one liners. i have, however, found great success in meticulously documenting every neurotic thought i have throughout the day - when i was younger, this was more often than not expressed online in some way/shape/form. now, i'm happy just keeping it in my notes app.
when we started as a band, we knew we had no social credit in being 'cool!'/ 'subversive!' / 'experimental!' or w/e terms may be used to describe traditionally good bands. in my experience however, being 'honest' and being 'cringe' are usually interchangable and a matter of opinion - and honestly? we were pretty good at that.
which is why when people say 'oh, i saw you guys online a couple years ago - y'all are actually good now?' i feel sorta weird about it. it isn't a rare occurance. and sure, we're better musicians now - but i think the kids who wrote 'just five more minutes' were as honest as the dirtbag boyband that wrote cassiopeia. it always felt 'good' to release music. it was always the most integral thing to us at that moment in time. otherwise, we would never have done it.
i guess what i'm saying is - if you don't get it, you were never meant to in the first place.
the hit new single cassiopeia by internationally acclaimed dirtbag boyband bears in trees is out everywhere now.
thank you for reading.
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Things we don’t know about Old Mondstadt (that Hoyoverse refuses to tell us)
Aka things that haunt me (and probably many other old mondstadt fans)
(keep in mind- not all of these may be entirely unanswerable as of now, some have partial/vague canon answers, while some may have completely canon yet relatively obscure answers)
(for the sake of making things easier to write, i will refer to venti’s dead friend/the nameless bard as “nb” and the red haired warrior as “rhw”, and specifically wisp venti as “wispti”, and i will be referring to the group of wispti, nb, rhw, gunnhildr, and amos (and maybe decarabian too if he’s relevant in that context) as the “old mond gang”)
Note- lots of paragraphs ahead
1- why is nb nameless? does he just… not have a name? does he have a name that he either intentionally or unintentionally kept secret? did he have a name that he used openly and oftenly, but it was forgotten by history as time went on? if anything, did he at least have some sort of nickname people used for him (so we can stop calling him “some nameless guy or smth idk”)?
2- While nb being, well, nameless, may be a bit more justified, what about rhw? did he also have some sort of name? would calling him “ragnvindr” (or similar) be entirely un-canon? did he at the very least have some sort of code name/nickname?
3- what is the timescale of the rebellion? did it take weeks, months, years? decades? how long ago did thoughts of revolution start in old mondstadt? were the people always unhappy, or did old mond use to be a better place?
4- what is nb’s role in the rebellion? did he start it? is he just a leader in general? or is he just there for the moral support? was he on the front lines or in the distance, playing his lyre to rally the troops? is he a strategist? has he ever directly fought anyone on the opposing side?
5- actually, how old is nb anyway? pretty sure most people agree that the rest of the old mond gang are adults (not wispti but like. i’ll touch more on that later), but i’ve seen stories/theories/headcanons about how old nb was (at the time of death) ranging from around 14 to 23 years old- that is not a small range by any means. (according to a poll i made a while ago, 16 was the most common answer on what people thought their age was (my headcanon too), but there was definitely a lot of range in the answers)
6- If Amos and Decarabian’s romantic relationship is so toxic (for lack of a better word), how any why did they get together in the first place? Did amos enter the relationship aware decarabian was against some of the things she wanted most in life? did she enter the relationship purely to try to “fix” him? was he abusive towards her, or was it just a lack of attention/affection/caring about other things more than her? or was it that he never loved her/was attracted to her romantically at all? were they still in a relationship even until the very end, or did they eventually split up when they both knew they would have to fight eachother and that things wouldn’t work out between them?
7- according to the “biography of gunnhildr” book (i think that’s the name), it says they worshipped the wind spirit barbatos and treated it like a deity, while other sources say wispti was nameless and was like. just kinda there. is one of them the truth, or both, or neither?
8- does wispti have arms and/or legs of any kind? can he talk/communicate with people? if so, how does he go about doing so?
9- it’s implied in “a drunkard’s tale” (an ingame book) that the wind spirit that transformed into a fox and helped create wine is the same wind spirit as well. wispti. if that means wispti can shapeshift, to what extent can he do it? can he even become a human/humanoid (not to the same detail and/or time extent that modern venti/barbatos can do so but still)? if so, how does that impact his relationship with nb and/or the rest of the old mond gang?
10- how long did the members of the old mond gang know eachother? did most of them meet in relation to the rebellion, or did some of them know eachother before they got to that point?
11- what is the order of events between amos dying, nb dying, decarabian dying, barbatos getting the gnosis, barbatos taking nb’s form, the end of the fighting, and rhw leaving/abandoning (for lack of better words) everyone? how much time took place between all those happening?
12- what exactly are the purposes of the tower? is it just a living space/government building for decarabian and amos, or is there more to it? did other people live in the tower too? if the circular ruins/symbols seen in the tower present-day were also there back then, why and how are they there? are the light actuators in the tower related to anything involving decarabian’s power/immortality and/or the storm wall?
13- how impenetrable is the storm wall, really? is everything restricted from going in or out, or are some people able to move freely? what is the immigration/emigration rate of the city? how often are things imported and exported? does the wall have any intended purpose other than for keeping the blizzard out?
14- how did amos get her bow? why is it so (hypothetically) powerful? where did she get it and how did it “retain its power” to this day?
15- how “old” is wispti? he could theoretically be any “age” between “manifesting into existence shortly before his first interaction with nb” and 14 billion years old/as old as time itself(and you thought nb’s theoretical age range was large.) how much did wispti truly know before getting involved with the rebellion? was he technically a toddler (in terms of knowledge/mentality), or does he actually have thousands of years of knowledge?
16- to what extent did the imunlaukr (i probably spelled that wrong) and lawrence clans participate in the old mondstadt rebellion? were they involved at all? should the old mond gang be eventually expanded to include more people? (lawrence, venerare, etc)
17- HOW DID DECARABIAN LOOK LIKE? HOYOVERSE PLEASE. IF YOU WONT GIVE US HIS FULLBODY DESIGN WITH MULTIPLE POSES AND FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AT LEAST GIVE US SOME CRUMBS ABOUT HIS APPEARANCE (how tall he was, hair color, outfit style, special accessories he wore, weapons he used, etc)
18- what is the relationship of the old mond game to eachother? were they friends? found family? or were things far more complicated than that? (and what was their reaction to knowing amos, one of their biggest allies, was also the lover/partner of their (the old mond gang’s) enemy?
19- did some of the genshin weapons with lore relations to old mondstadt actually get used during old mondstadt? (aka did nb get to use freedom-sworn as an actual combat weapon)
I probably left out a lot of things so i may go back later to edit, but there are just. SO many things hoyoverse keeps behind the lore basement. If anyone would like to add onto this list, or provide personal headcanons and/or canon answers to the things mentioned here, i highly reccomend doing so.
@honorary-fool @amarisrosalette @gierosajie @lanternlightss @arson-n-quwubilder @littleblueberryartist @lilyandthegenshinbrainrot @elysianheresy
@goyayato @lordofthetower @nellfe-the-feral-creature @thatonenerdinyourclassroom
@yume-shirokuro
(if anyone tagged would not like to be tagged, please let me know)
#old mondstadt#genshin impact#genshin theories#nameless bard#venti#wispti#wisp venti#redhaired warrior#amos#amos genshin impact#gunnhildr#decarabian#writing prompts
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Hi everyone! I've been doing this challenge called 30 days of intentionality (30doi) and I thought I'd explain how I'm doing it in case anyone wants to join in! I have no prompts for this one bc it is by nature quite personal.
THE CHALLENGE
Similar to the 30 days of productivity challenge, this one is really open to interpretation. Anyone can do it and mold it however they like, I'm just here to give a little bit of guidance to those who need it.
For me, intentions include 'keeping in good health', 'studying for my dream job', 'working towards my career', 'maintaining and building good friendships'.
If you're unsure about how to format your posts, this is what i include:
- date
- intentions (if you make these vague, it's a good idea to elaborate on how you plan to achieve your intentions)
- a recommendation (current reads, songs, movies, videos, etc)
- reflection
- tags with #30doi
here's an example of one of my 30doi posts for reference
other notes:
I usually update my post throughout the day, crossing out the stuff I've done and adding in a reflection before bed if i can.
You can do this challenge manually, I sometimes write my intentions down on paper for a few days and then transcribe (you don't have to transcribe)
This challenge should be for you, don't worry about posting consistently, or making your posts pretty. the important thing is that you are being intentional with your day.
Even if you don't physically post or write your intentions, try to think to yourself what they might be each day, and try your best to meet those.
Off-days are okay, in fact, they are what make this challenge a real challenge. if you're just running on the momentum of having had a perfect streak, there's no difficulty in this
Tag your posts under the tag #30doi so that others can see your posts and interact (including me)
if you want a reblog, i track the tag #heydilli which can be used for non-challenge posts too
That's all I can think of for now, but like I said, the 30doi is open to interpretation and i am by no means taking credit for 'creating' the challenge. like i mentioned for the 30dop, i don't really believe these challenges can be created. Below the cut is a rant about intentionality and my reasons for doing this challenge if you want to have a read.
Hope to see your posts and progress,
xx dilli 🤍
What is intentionality?
We all know what intentions are—your purpose and meaning behind doing something. Intentionality is bigger, it is "the structure which gives meaning to experience." Intentionality is your capacity to have intentions.
Having intentions governs how you perceive every experience you have. Take this example: if your intention for tonight is to wind down and relax, settling down in front of the TV will be viewed as a way to rest, reset, recover. If however, your intention for tonight is finish up uni work, watching TV will be viewed as a way that you procrastinate and avoid doing your work. Your perception of anything, then, is informed by your intentions.
Without intentions, anything that you do can seem pointless. I often have a never-ending list of assignments, but if I don't actively intend to do work, watching Youtube all night doesn't seem like a bad thing—after all, it's not like I intended to do anything else with my time.
Why am I doing this challenge?
Lately I find myself moving through my daily routine rather mindlessly. I do a bit of schoolwork here, a bit of mindless scrolling there, but I don't really know why I'm doing these things. I have goals that I'm working towards, but they seem distant and unaffected by my day-to-day choices. In reality, though, the choices that I make every day are what determine whether I reach my goals, where I will be and what kind of person I am in five or ten or however many years. By setting intentions, I will make it clear what I should be doing and why it is important that I do it. The idea is that by merely logging my intentions and results over these 30days, I will subconsciously be predisposed to fulfil those intentions
Read more about intentionality here
#30doi#studyblr#motivation#productivity#30 days of intentionality#intentions#30 day challenge#self care#academia#study#light academia#dark academia#original#study motivation#student#studyspo#30dop#productivity challenge#self care challenge#studyblr challenge
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— room for two
agent ortega x f!reader
rated e - 3k
tags: pwp/stagecoach sex, reference to sexual harassment, implied mutual pining, flirting, teasing, semi-public fingering, shared tasting, dirty talk
a/n: as a rdr2 enthusiast and with the amount of stagecoach fics I’ve read - as soon as I saw one in the pilot I was like 👀💖
You find your ride back to Brimstone is spent with some very unexpected but very welcome company.
He had made room for himself in your thoughts before, but never quite like this.
Close enough to touch, in the cramped stagecoach.
Just a few moments ago, opting for the smaller of the two had seemed appealing - the cheaper cost, the journey back quicker with only two horses instead of four.
Never thinking you’d be sharing the space.
And now - it feels as if your knees would brush, if you uncrossed your legs. Already trapped within his spread ones.
The morning had been spent two towns over. That carriage shared with other girls, all with their own tasks for Madame. An envelope sealed with bright red wax clutched between fingers as you had clambered out at the first stop - as they had continued on to the next town.
A little bit of stolen time amongst the shops, after your letter had been delivered. The coins slipped to you in thanks spent on something sweet to eat, a new ribbon for the straw hat you had been repairing at home.
The sun creeping past noon, before you had found a carriage to take back. Just managing to settle inside, when you had heard a friendly voice calling from outside.
A hand catching the edge of the door, as the driver had moved to shut it.
“This coach heading to Brimstone?”
The Agent, with his sharp clothes and his dark eyes. You’ve seen him in the Emerald Palace, slipping upstairs to meet with Madame Hume.
The curiosity had sparked even then - unable to keep your eyes off him. Heat rising to your cheeks at the wink sent your way, the caught smile as he followed behind his partner.
His appearance becoming more common. In the past weeks. A little jolt in your stomach when you saw the two of them, standing out amongst the regulars.
Those dark eyes always seeming to find yours, for just a brief moment. But one that lasts, lingering long after he’s gone.
It had been enough to just think about him.
Wishing for another life - one where you weren’t felt up by strangers while serving drinks. For one where you were whisked away by him, instead.
A much different kind of stranger.
There was a fluidity in the way that Agent Ortega moved - folding himself inside the carriage, an easy smile shot your way. Bowler hat discarded, set down on the bit of seat next to him, as he settled in.
“You don’t mind, do you darlin’? This ride is on me.”
And you hadn’t. Not at all.
Now - your eyes drift, across the gray shades of his suit. The sharp vest, the golden chain of his pocket watch where it tucks into a pocket. Everything nearly in place except for the buttons popped at his collar - exposing that extra inch of his throat.
A silver badge glinting against his chest, in the afternoon sun.
With an effort, you tear your eyes away.
But you can still feel the weight of his own exploration. His gaze as warm as the sun that peeks in through the opened windows, settling across you skin.
“Never seen you outside the Palace,” Ortega comments, breaking the silence as the driver cracks the reins. A creak of the carriage as the horses follow - taking you down the main road.
The implication that he’s noticed you at all is not lost - your attention quickly drawn back. Your own smile shy, as his grows wider - pretty curve of his lips.
“Nothing interesting, I’m afraid. Just runnin’ errands, sir.” You shrug, intentionally vague - missing the way his eyes drop to your mouth at the word. The little shift in his seat as you glance out the window, as a rider on horseback thunders by.
“Miss Hume keep you busy?”
It’s an understatement. Running the Emerald Palace was hard work - and combined with a powerful woman and her short temper meant there was rarely a moment to breathe.
Your face must show your answer because he laughs - an arm slinging across the back of the seat, the movement bumping his knee against yours.
“She’s keepin’ us busy, too.” He confides, “Been runnin’ all across New Mexico. But I think we finally found what she’s lookin’ for-”
Agent Ortega catches himself then, his smile apologetic as his hands raise, “Sorry, shouldn’t divulge any more.”
“I understand.” You smile.
Everything behind doors with Madame Hume was hushed - half-spoken whispers and sealed letters, drowned out by the piano downstairs. The only quiet thing about her business.
But you had found yourself leaning forward at his confession - drawn in by him, the secret of the detective’s recent and sudden appearance.
There’s a jolt then - the wobble of the left wheel as it rattles against a deep divot that cracks the dirt road. The speed of the stagecoach has the carriage lurching, a wheel lifting as it crosses the narrow gap.
A little yelp rips from your throat, as you lose your balance. Already off-kilter, drawn in by the almost-reveal of his secret.
Hands catch on your hips as you tip forward. A swift tug as he spares you from slipping into that narrow gap between his knees, the force behind his pull bringing you into his lap.
Chivalrous, in his intent.
A clucking tongue for the driver - a glare as if the uneven road was their fault, as your fingers bite into his shoulders. Wrinkling the fine fabric as you steady yourself.
Acutely aware of the strong arm that curls around your waist. The pull of your cotton skirt where the layers bunch up around your knees - thighs spread wide where you kneel in his lap.
The warm scent of his aftershave, curling over your senses with how close you now are.
“You alright?” There’s concern in his tone, the words stringing together with his worry. His grip still firm, as you blink down at him.
It takes another second - him repeating his question more slowly, with the cock of an eyebrow - before you get your bearings.
“I am.” Your head ducks, “Thank you.”
But you find, that you don’t move.
And neither does he.
His lips part, with a slight upward tilt of his head - a movement that you just begin to mirror, without thought.
Before there’s another uneven rattle - hitting the carriage even more strongly than before - and you find yourself clinging to him, again. Flattened against him, as his face buries in the bare curve of your shoulder.
Your hands ghost across his chest, sliding over the buttons of his vest. Leaning back as heat creeps across the back of your neck, up to your cheeks.
“‘m sorry-” You’re murmuring, the mortification from before, now fully catching up. “So sorry-”
Just now realizing the position that you’re in - how incredibly inappropriate it is, with your knees pressing into his ribs.
With his breath ghosting across your shoulder, so close to the soft curve of your breast.
It has you leaning back - though the hands at your waist tighten, for the briefest of moments.
“No need to apologize, sweetheart.” There’s none of the worry in his expression. The part of his lips as you shift - a short, inhaled breath, “‘s not every day I get a beautiful girl in my lap.”
That has you freezing.
Wide eyes blinking down at the grin that pulls across his face, tugging up one side.
The words - softly breathed out, “You think I’m… beautiful?”
His eyes drag down like they do before - like they’ve done. Slower this time, with the knead of his fingers against the fabric of your dress.
“Thought I made that obvious.”
This time when his head tilts - you meet him.
The press of his mouth against yours. A fluttering in your chest as the soft sound of his groan, as his hands slide around to your back.
One dropping against the curve of your ass, nudging you forward. The slightest inhale of breath before you’re leaning into him, fingers sliding into the dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck.
Your own moan swallowed, as his tongue brushes your lip, licks inside your mouth. The upward tilt of his hips, an unconscious grind of his hips against the layers of your skirt.
A moment as you tug at them - a need to get closer. His hushed “yes” when you settle, when you can feel the stiffening curve against you.
Hands wandering, tugging at the dark tie around his throat, teasing at the peek of skin where the button strains at his chest.
His own tracing up near your ribs, spanning beneath your breasts. Warm through the thin layers of your bodice, and with the next breath - you’re pulling his palm higher.
Ortega groans a curse, sharp on his tongue as he cups your breast, the tips of his fingers brushing against bare skin.
There’s a building heat inside your chest, your tummy. You’ve been touched before, but not like this. Never with such want. Never so openly.
That second thought is what pulls you out - an unconscious glance from over your shoulder. Peeking out at the stretch of road behind you, the trailing path of kicked-up dust.
“Where did you go?” He coaxes - his voice low, strained.
Eyes blown wide, those pretty lips parted again. Your smile shy and embarrassed, your lower lip caught between your teeth.
“I just…” You squirm, “I haven’t done this before.”
His hand drops from you, the dazed look disappearing from his eyes, “We don’t have to, pretty girl. I didn’t know-”
A little laugh then, as you realized - drawing his hand back.
“No.” You smile, “I’ve, um… I just mean here. The stagecoach, it’s so open-”
With the three windows and the driver above. Soft noises already pulled so easily from you - you’re sure if things went any further, there would be no mistaking what was happening inside.
The frown transforms into a knowing smile. Relief lacing his words as his thumb teases against your nipple, the tight pucker of fabric that betrays your need.
A second, before he’s coaxing you off of him. Your disappointment mounting, before he spins you around - only to pull you back against him again.
Your ass snug against his front, with the layers of your dress settling around you. His nose ghosting along the column of your throat, mouth pressing a kiss against your skin.
“How is this, then?” He asks, his voice low in your ear, “I’ll take care of you, and you can keep an eye on the road. See anyone, and I’ll stop.”
A hand flattens across your stomach, lips on the back of your neck. Sending your skin prickling as he inhales, a soft groan bitten back between teeth.
“You’ll… you’ll-” You’re distracted by the sweep of his fingers, the slow rock of his hips. The thudding of your pulse between your thighs, an ache that has them pressing together.
“I’ll make you feel good, honey.” He sighs, “Anythin’ you want.”
It’s tempting. The desire that pools low in your belly. Your thoughts running wild - wondering just what he had in store. What he will give you.
The thought is enough to have you nodding, settling more comfortably in his grip. Perched on his strong thighs, your breath hitching as he starts at your shoulder.
A kiss pressed against the skin, as he works his way up the curve of your neck. A hushed groan as the rock of the carriage grinds him against your ass, his own need evident.
The slow drag of his hand as it rises from your stomach, spanning the space beneath your breasts as his head hooks over your shoulder.
“Christ. Just look at you, darlin’-“
The peek of your breasts above the low neckline. Fingers lifting to play with the pale, pretty ruffles that line the edge - the tip of one stroking against the tight bud just beneath.
Another jostle of the carriage coaxes the dress down further. His thumb slipping up, and then hooking beneath.
Ortega’s groan is soft in your ear. Your hips rocking against his, with the slow sweep of his touch.
“This okay, darlin’?” He husks, before his mouth presses against your neck, “If it isn’t, I’ll get out and walk. Don’t you worry.”
“S’okay.” You sigh, arching into him, “Feels so good-”
With your words, he’s tugging the hem down. Baring you as you send the briefest glance out the back of the coach - but there’s only the sun and sky above you, the rising streaks of red and orange layered in the rocks of the canyon around.
He teases you. A peek of his tongue as it swipes the pad of his thumb - smearing the slick tip across the tight bud, before he’s pinching it.
Your moan is a high, bitten-off sound before you’re catching it. Desperate for more, as you begin to move with him. Meeting the slow rhythm of his hips, your fingers fisting in your dress.
Before you’re catching his hand, dragging it down. Letting him cup you over the layers, where the low ache has settled, simmering.
“Please-” You whine, needing more.
He gives it to you, as he promised he would. Gathering up the layers of your dress, letting them pool around your waist - spreading out the fabric to cover you.
Your bare thighs pressed against his, and it’s now that you can truly feel him. That hard, swollen curve that strains against the fabric. Adjusted to press snugly against your core - an urge rising to touch him yourself, but he’s catching your hand before it wanders far.
“You first, honey.” His jaw grits, “Said I would, and I’m a man of my word.”
Fingers trace over your knee, up over the bare skin of your thigh. Cupping you again - like before. A wide palm against the thin fabric, another needy sound ripped from your throat, that he hushes through a grin.
Before he’s teasing at the waistband of your drawers, then dipping under. Meeting warm, soaked flesh, his own sound unrestrained as your thighs press together.
“Fuck.” His fingers trace your seam, splitting as they part you. Sliding back up until the tip is pressing at a spot that makes your hips jolt. The same tender place that you’ve only found at night, when you’re alone.
“So fucking wet, sweetheart. All for me, isn’t that right?”
Your answering hum is high, as he begins to circle. Turning into a sharp gasp before his hand is covering your mouth, muffling the sound.
“Hush, honey.” He coos, “Don’t want the driver to hear you, now.”
Somehow - the thought is thrilling, now. The thought of an errant moan overheard, the peek of a passer-by seeing the flash of your skin, his mouth at your neck.
But you clamp your teeth together, as his hand drops to curving over your breast again. Holding you to firmly against his chest, the jerk of your hips now stilted as you chase his touch.
The soft sounds caught in your throat, as each breath grows shorter. His soft hums at each one you make, as he teases at your opening.
The tip of a finger pressing inside, before he’s dragging the soaked pad up, pressing just a little harder, a little faster.
“Bet you taste so fucking good. Wish I was between those pretty thighs right now.” He growls in your ear - a thrill at his words, even if you don’t quite understand them.
Clarity coming a moment later, as his fingers slide from you. Shining and slick with you, that heat rising to your cheeks again at the filthy sight.
A little gasp of surprise as he slips them between his lips. Shocked by the groan he makes, as his tongue swirls over them to suck them clean. His other hand catching at your jaw, coaxing you to him.
You can taste yourself on his tongue, when your mouths meet. A sweet tang that wasn’t there before, melting against the heat of his tongue as it strokes against yours.
“Just knew it.” He grits out, before they’re slipping between your thighs again, “Need to get you in my bed, darlin’. Let you be as loud as you want-”
It feels like there’s a spark that’s a bright as the sun, burning inside you. Shining with the wet press of his fingers, those tight circles placed with such precision that it makes your head spin.
Fueled by the thought of getting him alone. Wanting to know more about how he’d taste you, fill you. Wanting to strip away those layers, to find the man beneath the badge.
It’s enough that you’re there, on the edge of something that feels like more than you’ve ever known. The urge to leap rising, knowing that he’s right there with you.
Ortega’s name soft on your lips, breaking as you try to muffle it. His answering hum, low and rough as he keeps the same swirling touch.
The path to that edge rushing towards you, overwhelming as your fingernails sink into the meat of his forearm. The stretch of a finger as it sinks inside you, opening you up.
His hushed murmurs, asking if you’d take him here. How good you’d feel, wrapped around his cock - the one that presses against you with each lift of his hips.
Your whining assent. That you would, that you want him to, want him-
Broken off as the heel of his hand rocks against your clit. The feeling heightened with his finger buried in you, curling and stroking. A second joining, each thrust wet as he mimics his thoughts - finding a rhythm that has you clenching down hard around him.
“That’s it, cariño.” He’s groaning, watching the heave of your chest, the way his fingers move beneath the dress, “Christ, I can feel how much you need this. Let go for me-”
It doesn’t take much more. His touch, his words, rip through you. The thud of the hoofbeats, the creak of the wagon fading out to nothing. A white noise as your head tips back, as your vision blurs.
A ragged sound in your throat muffled as he brings his mouth to your again - the sound of the stagecoach drowning out the wet pound of his fingers as you pulse around him.
The rippling pleasure washing over you, wave after wave. Your thoughts hazy as his hand spans your jaw, keeping you close until you come back down. Leaving you’re draped against him - utterly boneless.
Breathless, until a whistle breaks into your afterglow.
Mechanical - not a person, but the train that you’ve come to know well. The one just outside Brimstone, it’s departure welcoming of your arrival.
The bright glow of your pleasure dims, as you gasp - forgetting that you were supposed to be keeping watch.
“‘s okay, sweetheart.” Ortega coaxes, his fingers still buried in you, “Been watchin’ for you, pretty girl. No one’s lookin’ at you but me.”
There’s ache as he pulls from you, leaving you empty. Helping you put yourself back together - your fingers curling around his as he helps you back to your seat.
The same hand coming to cup himself a few minutes later - a lewd adjustment as the carriage comes to a stop, just outside the Palace.
You shoot him a pained expression, wanting more time with him. To return the favor - all while knowing you’re both expected at the Palace. A look that he shakes his head at, in response.
Opening the door for you like the gentleman he is, instead - lingering behind as he buttons his long jacket closed.
Hiding where he throbs for you. The spot where the fabric of his trousers has soaked through, dampened with his desire.
Almost forgetting his hat, snatched up at the last second.
You have to part now, it would be improper to do so otherwise. But there’s a moment where he lingers - a hand at your elbow, a split second where he pulls you close.
“Got a room over at the Turquoise Sky. Tell me you’ll meet me there tonight, beautiful?”
Murmured out for just you to hear, in the busy streets. Your very own secret, an offering to find out the true meaning of his words - just how well he could take care of you.
Emboldened, you lean close to whisper your answer back to him.
And amongst the crowd - he smiles.
just wanted to write a fun little no-pressure thing, thank you for reading! 💖
#the pilot was all over the place omg but it was fun!#and I am sucker for an 1880s setting so here we are!#agent ortega x reader#agent ortega x you#agent ortega x f!reader#agent ortega#the sixth gun
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haiii :D anon who requested courting rituals with kabru here !! i meant to imply somewhere like southeast asia , ( although i could totally see kabru being from an area near the himalayas or something , like nepal , since he shares a name with one of the mountains ) but i intentionally tried to specify it reallyy vague so anyone could relate ! (๑>◡<๑)
but to be fair , i dont really think dungeon meshi really mentions the southeast much or even at all ?? (｀_´)ゞother than the mention of toshiro being from the eastern archipelago , so i'd imagine reader would be from one of the various scattered islands there towards the south ? :0
( also if you need an example , some traditional courting where i'm from is something like meeting the parents and asking for permission to pursue , handwritten letters , meaningful conversations , various gifts like flowers , and serenading ! plus just genuine respect and a willingness to wait ^_^ even though im pretty sure kabru would get a bit impatient sometimes ehehe )
i know it sounds like something pretty simple but even the little things can go a long way ٩(^‿^)۶ !!
suitor
…ft! kabru x male! reader
…tags! courting, mentions of marriage, meeting reader’s family, reader is from an unspecified place outside the island, dancing, mentions of having kids
…word count! 2025
…notes! tried to make these imagines broad but not extremely so, and some of these courting gestures do have a little kabru flare to them because he’s like that. feedback is greatly appreciated, because i want to make sure my writing is accurate to each request!
Kabru isn’t someone I’d see dating casually. Sure, he frequently uses his charm to sway people’s opinions and get them on his side, but I don’t think he’s really been in a proper relationship before at all. So if Kabru’s pursuing you, it’s for keeps.
Family is a really important thing in courting/marriage culture all around the world, so trust and believe that one of the first things he does is try to get on good terms with your family members.
Don’t underestimate the man, he will somehow deduce the mailing addresses of your immediate and extended family and immediately started getting in contact, saying he was a friend of yours and telling them about the time spent with you. Pretty quickly after that, your family starts sending you letters telling you that you should’ve told them about that lovely young gentleman you’d met sooner.
“Kabru?”
Arms crossed, you did your best to remain steadfast even as your companion looked at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile.
“Yes?” His response was laced with false innocence, but you knew he knew. He just got a kick out of hearing you say it yourself.
With a sigh, you would slump your shoulders and ask, “how did you find out the mailing address of several of my family members?”
“Oh, that was just a coincidence,” the man lied. “Remember when one of your packages got misdelivered to the tavern? The return address happened to stick in my memory, and I got curious to learn more about your family. After all, they contact you quite a bit, and I was curious about your relationship.”
Despite your lack of a headache, you rubbed your temples with your index and middle fingers to express your exasperation with the man. Kabru was great, he really was, but sometimes he confused you greatly….
“You could’ve just asked, you know that?”
The close-eyed smile he gave you in return let you know that you probably hadn’t gotten through to him much.
“I just thought it would be a nice surprise, don’t you agree?”
He might not express it much outwardly, but deep down, Kabru is really worried about being good enough to obtain the blessing to pursue you. That’s why he tries to cover as many bases as possible to be the best possible suitor for you.
When he does get to meet your family in person, he does as much preparation as humanly possible to make it all go perfectly. He studies up on local politics, sports, and cuisine in order to be able to make good conversation with your family.
I think Kabru also rather likes kids, so he’s extremely good with any younger family members you may have, which is likely to score points with your parents and other adults in the family. Kabru loves hearing the funny things kids say and seeing what sort of things their vibrant minds come up with, so he’d do things like play pretend with them. He’s also pretty physically fit, so he could play a sport or outdoor game with them too.
Even if he appears perfectly calm on the inside, he was absolutely scared shitless when he asked your family for permission to pursue you. He would assure them that he’s very much prepared to be with you in the long term, and even came prepared with things like savings for marriage or even a dowry if that’s something that is typical in your region.
Overall, Kabru is a polite, poised, and extremely well educated young man, so he’s someone that pretty much any parent would want as a son-in-law. Hearing their words of approval was like lifting the weight of an entire city off his shoulders.
“I was so worried,” your partner would admit after the fact. Completely unable to wrap your head around such a thing, you said the first thing that came to your mind.
“How could you be? You’re perfect, Kabru. If anything, I was worried you’d have something better to do than settle down with me.”
Those piercing blue eyes bored into your skull, looking at you as if you were the most insane man in the world for having said such a thing.
“How could that be when you’re perfect too?”
The question left you in such a shocked and flustered state that you hardly noticed him move into you felt both his hands holding one of your own, thumbs resting almost reverently on top of your ring finger.
“It’s almost embarrassing now to admit that at one point in time, I didn’t see a future for myself. I guess that was because I hadn’t seen you yet?”
A ‘pfft’ sound escaped your mouth almost instantly. “Oh, no need to use your smooth lines on me.”
Both thumbs pressed down on your finger ever so slightly, in the place where perhaps a ring might go.
“I mean it, I really do.”
Whether it be providing for you or taking care of a home, Kabru does his best to learn anything he needs to no one order to be a good partner. The man actually isn’t very good at taking care of himself, so him learning housework and cooking for your sake really goes to show just how devoted he is.
In fact, on one of your dates, he surprises you by presenting you with a dish he cooked himself — one from your homeland. Even if it’s not perfect, you can tell he put so much love into it.
“The arrangement of it is kind of messy, I know….” Seeing Kabru of all people acting sheepish was certainly a rare sight. As strange as it was, thinking about the implications of such a thing made you feel all warm inside. He really cared for you that much, huh……
“It’s not the appearance of it that matters, it’s the taste.” You were quick to reassure him, smiling as you took the necessary utensils in one hand. “Besides, knowing that you tried so hard for me is more than enough. I mean, I hardly ever see you cook for yourself.”
There was no way Kabru could deny your statement, so he could only nod and look to the side. Instead of directly addressing your correct assessment of his skills, he pivoted into an adjacent topic. “Cooking has always been a gesture people perform for the people they care about. All over the world, it’s something that connects families and couples… it’s only natural I should try it, regardless of my skill level.”
Your partner’s explanations of his acts of service, despite sounding like they came right out of some textbook, never failed to charm you. At its core, it was yet another reminder of how hard Kabru worked to understand how to be a good partner for you.
“It means a lot to me,” you reassured him, lifting the food to your lips, not quite eating it yet. Kabru did his best to keep his expression stone still to hide his anticipation as you inhaled the scent of the dish, making a small humming noise in reaction that he couldn’t help but overthink on the inside. Was it good? Bad? Did he not use enough spices? Too many spices? He knew he should have triple checked the recipe…
While the tallman was overthinking, you readily accepted the labor of love into your mouth, deliberating on its texture and flavor as you chewed. A sharp exhale escaped you immediately after swallowing, after which you would chirp with delight,
“It’s really nice!”
Kabru’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in the date. Mission accomplished.
I imagine Kabru keeps a journal not only about daily events, but also about people, so sometimes as a gift you might get one of the pages of his journal that has an entry about you. Sometimes the page may also contain little doodles or sketches of you, many of which were when he was admiring you without you noticing.
Kabru’s got a pretty nice singing voice, actually, and he seems to speak multiple languages, so he may try learning songs in your language to sing to you. It’s as smooth and romantic as you’d imagine, but if you start singing along with him, you can see him start to melt the second he hears your voice. You really are his weakness.
Another thing — dancing! Kabru has likely had ballroom dance lessons, but other types of dance are ones he’s more unfamiliar with. If you ever know a regional dance you want to teach him, he’ll be happy to learn, albeit super embarrassed at his own clumsiness. Being able to romance you with honeyed words and picture perfect gestures is something he prides himself on, but you reassure him that he’s just as charming even now.
A chorus of ‘sorry’s followed almost in time with the rhythm of your own feet. The man responsible for said chorus, however, didn’t seem to have much rhythm of his own yet, and was feeling rather bashful as a result.
“It’s rare that I get to see you clumsy, Kabru.” There was a teasing lilt in your voice that the other man immediately read into, despite his best judgment. Logically, he knew that you would never say something intentionally cruel to or about him, but when he was always so eager to have your favor, it was hard not to worry.
Another apology escaped his lips, after which one of your hands left its assigned position to rest under his chin. The movement of the rest of your body stilled, focusing only on getting the one you loved so dearly to face you. Blue irises were met with not a trace of malice, only the truest of endearment.
“It’s fine, Kabru.” The affection in your voice paired with how insistently you pitched these words to him gave him the strength to smile and nod in understanding, his own paranoid be damned. Resolving his habitual apologizing sated you, though you were certainly not done loving on the man that you called yours.
“Honestly it’s nice to be able to teach you things firsthand. You spend a lot of time reading about things, probably to surprise me, which is great, don’t get me wrong — but I like this.”
The little head tilt you did without thinking drove him wild on the inside, but he did his best not to show it. It would be so easy to kiss you like this.
“I like being able to feel like I can teach you something, even when you know as much as you do.”
Considering it made you this happy, Kabru might start asking you to teach him things a lot more often. For once, the thought of putting the situation in someone else’s hands made him feel warm inside instead of uneasy.
“Yeah, I like it too.”
Fashion may not be one of Kabru’s biggest interests, but the sight of you in any culture or region-specific clothing that you like always has him in awe of just how dashing you look.
This goes double if it’s your wedding and you’re wearing a traditional outfit, maybe even something passed down in the family. You might as well just kill the man then and there, really.
Speaking of marriage and family, I think Kabru would actually really like adopting a kid some time in the future, as long as everything is stable and such. Kabru himself was adopted, so the idea of becoming a home for a child who may have lost the home they had before is a concept rather close to his own heart.
Future used to be something Kabru fought desperately to create for all of humanity while never, ever considering his own place in it. So much changed after meeting you — he could actually see himself having a future now. Being an important character in a story instead of just the person telling it to somebody else.
More than anything, you saved him. He doesn’t tell this to anybody other than you, but as you lay together at night, he insists he wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.
#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi x reader#dungeon meshi imagines#delicious in dungeon#delicious in dungeon x reader#delicious in dungeon imagines#kabru x reader#kabru of utaya x reader#kabru of utaya#kabru dungeon meshi
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A Journey of Two Cooks
Chapter 4: Reunited
Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3
A/n: This sweet little fic is all finished! I hope you enjoyed it :)
Word Count: 2k
CW: some family trauma/manipulation done to the reader
Characters: female reader x Sanji
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You didn’t leave your room until the next morning. Luckily, you had stored snacks in your room for days when you felt on the outskirts of your family and alienated from everyone on the ship. They could all make their own food for one day.
You rose early and began breakfast, working quickly to avoid confrontation with anyone. Even though you didn’t want to speak to anyone, you still had duties you had to do on the ship. You may have been a lot of things, but a freeloader wasn’t one of them. You could hear the crew starting to rise as you finished up the biscuits, and left everything on the stove top to keep warm until the others showed up for breakfast. You could cook and still avoid everyone.
Berk knocked on your door almost an hour later. “Time to eat.”
“Eat without me,” you called back, not bothering to be pleasant.
“We eat as a family. Hurry up, we’re docking today.” There was no room in his tone for argument. You sighed and rose from your desk, treading after him down the hallway and to the dining hall.
You were the last to arrive for breakfast, and it was clear the group had been waiting for you. As you sat down at the table, Berk cleared his throat. Your stomach lurched, knowing a fight was about to come.
“We’re landing on an island today,” he said. “Should be there in ten minutes. Once we restock, I have a pretty good idea about a target we can hit.”
You clenched your teeth, but didn’t say anything. You wouldn’t make a scene two meals in a row.
He went through the details vaguely, but everyone knew the way it worked. You would be the distraction, they would be the thiefs. Even in these high-level missions, you were always the one who was alone.
When he was finished, you stood up and cleared away your plates without a word.
“I’ll get the groceries,” you said. There was no point in reigniting an old argument. You had said your piece. You wouldn't be a part of this mission. They were welcome to proceed without you, but you refused to be involved with any more honey traps.
“Be back in an hour!” Berk called. You ignored him. You would take as long as you needed. You had nothing else on the schedule for today.
You got ready quickly and departed the ship, finally breathing a breath of fresh air for the first time in days. Island air just felt so much cleaner than sea air these days. The air held possibility.
You intentionally spent a long time at the market. You searched the crowd for golden hair and refused to give up. You browsed over every fruit and vegetable, every fish and spice you could see, meticulously picking apart every specimen. Anything to delay your return to that dreadful ship.
“Y/N.” A sharp, husky voice came from behind you. For a moment you hoped it was Sanji, but that voice was familiar. It was your captain.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I told you I’m not doing it,” you hummed, trying to keep a pleasant tone in your voice as you browsed the bread selection.
“You will. That’s an order from your captain.”
You finally turned to him, glaring. He was at least a foot taller than you, but you refused to let that intimidate you. “Did you call the Navy to attack Sanji’s crew?”
He raised an eyebrow. You could see him trying to figure out how you had discovered his plan.
“So what if I did? I was doing it to protect you.”
You frowned at him, your entire body tensing at his practical confession. “You weren’t protecting me. You were trying to control me.”
“Because I know what's best for you!”
“You can’t keep controlling me like this! I said I’m not doing it, Berk!”
He grabbed your wrist, putting it into a vice grip. “And I said you will.”
“No.”
He scoffed, almost amused by your defiance. “Are you disobeying a direct order? Do you know what type of punishment that gets you?”
You could see the sinister look in your eye, and you suddenly realized you had crossed a line. You tried to pull your hand away, but he squeezed harder and twisted, causing you to cry out in pain.
“Berk stop,” you pleaded, still trying to get away from his hold. “You’re hurting me.”
“Oh-” he gave you a demented smile. “A sprained wrist will be the least of your worries when we’re finished.”
“Stop, please,” you begged. “I’m sorry-”
Out of nowhere, the pain disappeared, and Berk seemed to vanish before your eyes.
And then, sunshine gold. Crystal blue orbs, staring back at you.
“Sanji,” you whimpered. You were frozen in place, unable to move even though every muscle in your body was screaming for you to run to him.
Thankfully, he approached you. He had a look of pure concern and worry, and his eyes darted back and forth between your face and your wrist.
“My dear, are you alright?” he cooed, gingerly touching your wrist. “It looks like it hurts quite badly. Let me take you to a doctor.”
Your hand felt like it was on fire, the heat intensifying every time you tried to move it, but you did your best to hide it. “Sanji, I’m fine.”
He frowned, examining your hand closely. “I think you need to see a doctor. We have a good one back-”
“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Berk’s harsh voice made you flinch, but he wasn’t directing his anger at you this time.
Sanji gently ushered you behind him to keep you out of danger, making sure you were properly supporting your wrist.
“You shouldn’t harm a lady,” Sanji growled. “The likes of you shouldn’t even be allowed near one.”
Berk went in for a swing, which Sanji gracefully dodged. He had a playful smile on his face, as if this were a game.
If he actually was a member of the Strawhats, it probably was.
Sanji’s dodging only pissed Berk off even more. “Stay the hell out of our affairs!” your captain screamed. “This is a crew matter, you bastard!”
Sanji delivered a strong kick directly to Berk’s chest, sending him flying backwards.
“Berk!” you screamed, starting to run to him. But you could feel his rage exuding from him and you hesitated. When Berk got this angry, he usually attacked whoever was closest. And you had caused this whole mess. You stood between Berk and Sanji, unable to move forward but too headstrong to retreat.
Berk stood to his feet, breathing heavily. If looks could kill, you were fairly certain they would already be planning your funeral.
“Choose,” he snarled. “Your crew or him.”
“Choose?” you glanced back at Sanji, unsure how to proceed.
The chef was calm and relatively unbothered, opting to smoke a cigarette instead of acknowledging your captain’s words. The only hint of concern was in his eyes, which were stuck to you, watching you carefully.
Your family, or a man you barely knew? No, that wasn’t an accurate depiction of the choice you had to make. Your crew had taken you in and been kind enough to you, but despite your captain’s overuse of the word, they weren’t your family. They barely knew anything about you. You were just the person who helped them out around the ship and who made robbing other pirates easier.
Sanji, on the other hand…you weren’t sure. He knew more about you than anyone else on this planet, but you weren’t sure if he wanted you to come along with him. What if you chose him and then he left you? You would be left with nobody, forced to fend for yourself on an unfamiliar island.
“I-”
Berk spat at you. “The fact that you're hesitating proves you aren’t loyal.” He turned and began walking away. “Your belongings are now property of the Buckaneers, since it’s on our ship. Have a good-”
Sanji was next to him in a second, kicking Berk down to the ground. Sanji put his foot on your ex-captain’s chest to hold him down.
“We’ll be getting her stuff. If you have a problem with that, then we can fight like men instead.”
For a long time, Berk said nothing. He kept his eyes locked with Sanji, and you could feel a battle of wills occurring between the two.
“She has thirty minutes,” Berk finally said, cutting his eyes away.
“She has as long as she needs.” Sanji spat back, and then lifted his foot from Berk’s chest.
When Sanji looked back at you, he was a different man than the one who was staring at your ex-captain. His features instantly softened under your gaze, his warm smile returning. He held a hand out to beckon you toward him, and your body moved on its own. You walked to him and took his hand, and the two of you walked to the ship together.
When you could see your ship again, you couldn’t help but grip Sanji’s hand a little tighter. You didn’t want to have to face all of these people alone.
Sanji squeezed your hand and you were reminded that you weren’t alone. He was there to protect you and fend off anyone who gave you problems.
“I never even asked if you wanted me around,” you whispered, letting out a light laugh to ease the tension of your words.
“My darling, I always want you around.”
You gave a half-hearted smile at his words, and then lowered your voice to a whisper. “Are you really a part of the Strawhat crew?”
“How did you…” he trailed off, and then gave a bold smile. “I am. And you can be too, if you’d like. You’ll never have to cook again. You’ll never have to do anything.”
You doubted that. Surely you’d have to pull your weight, but you understood what Sanji was saying. You’d never have to do something you didn’t want to do. You gave a small nod, and the two of you started toward the ship.
It was empty. You didn’t see anybody onboard. They must’ve all gone to rob their target, whoever it was. You wondered how that was working out for them, since you hadn’t distracted the captain.
You quickly went to your room and packed up the essentials: your clothes, important memories, other small things that were easy to pack away. Your wrist still ached, so Sanji packed as you instructed him around the room, all without a single complaint.
Lastly, you popped into Berk’s captains quarters and grabbed 50,000 berries. Your payment for the free labor you had given him against your will. He probably wouldn’t miss it too much. You didn’t care if he did.
Sanji carried all of your bags and still managed to hold your hand as the two of you departed your old ship and headed for his ship. It was his home, and hopefully it could be yours too.
“This is the Sunny. Nice ship, isn’t it?”
Their ship was similar to the size of your old ship, but you could tell it was crafted by an expert. The wood alone was a hundred times better than the quality of the Buckaneers’ ship. Whoever had created this ship truly had a vision.
Sanji squeezed your hand. “A new journey awaits you, my dear.”
You smiled at him, and then looked up at the Sunny. “A better one, now that I’m with you.”
#one piece#one piece imagine#one piece scenario#one piece x reader#one piece x you#cozage#sanji#black leg sanji#sanji x reader#sanji x y/n#sanji x you#✧˚sanji✧˚
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Got a spoilery ask about SLARPG regarding Melody's character arc and, to a lesser extent, the ending, so I'll put this below a read more!
Anonymous asked:
Heya! I adore adore adore SLARPG, and have latched pretty hard onto Melody and Harmony's dichotomy for a while... I was wondering whether you saw Harmony more as an obstacle to Melody's growth, or something to be worked on and reconciled with more like Madeline and Badeline from Celeste? Unless it's spoilers of course. It's one of the few threads left open after the game, and as a plural woman myself I was just curious. X3
I'll say up front that I've generally avoided stepping in and telling people what The One Correct Interpretation is for a lot of things in SLARPG. I didn't intend for Melody to be read as plural, since in the story Harmony is a parasitic outside force, but I also understand where that interpretation comes from and won't tell folks they're wrong for relating to her like that. That's just the beauty of art. We can relate to things however we want. I just wanna make sure my personal framing is clear before I talk about the thought behind Melody and Harmony's relationship
Harmony is more of a literary device than a character. While she's not an alternate personality for Melody, she's also not really a full person in her own right. I don't think about Harmony having her own arc. She's a magical force that occasionally externalizes Melody's darker, more self-critical thoughts for the audience, where normally she would keep them to herself. She has her own design and name to make the dialogue boxes easier to follow. I also keep it intentionally vague whether or not other people would be able to see Harmony because I find that understated uncertainty more fun.
On a literal level, Harmony is a magical parasite, and therefore an obstacle to be overcome. She's not supposed to be there, straight up. But because she's just the embodiment of dark thoughts that Melody is already having, there isn't really much point in "defeating" Harmony to me - which is why things play out the way they do.
Even if Melody got rid of Harmony, she would still have to deal with those feelings. It would be a purely symbolic victory. And symbolic victories like that are often satisfying as hell in fiction, but in real life you can't defeat your shadow self to stop those 3am "what if my friends are only pretending to like me" thoughts. So instead, Harmony is something Melody needs to cope with and minimize. It's not about getting rid of bad thoughts forever, but rather learning how to deal with them better. And that's an active, life-long process. And so Harmony remains, but Melody is working on having healthier relationships with both her loved ones and herself.
I'll also say that, while I love Celeste, Madeline and Badeline's arc is mostly irrelevant to the way I write Melody and Harmony. (I don't think this ask is accusing me of plagiarizing Maddy Thorson or anything, to be clear. I'm just on a tangent since the comparison was brought up.) SLARPG began development in 2015, so the Harmony scenes, and Melody's arc as a whole, were already planned before Celeste came out. While I worried about getting compared to a much more popular game, I stuck to my guns, knowing that my story was different enough to stand on its own. If anything, I just avoided specific phrases like "reflection" or "I'm a part of you" to try and keep people from just pointing and going "Celeste reference!"
Unfortunately the "wow this is just like Celeste" comments were unavoidable, as were the newfound generalizations about what all indie games about trans girls with anxiety must be like because there are two (2) whole games that share some common story tropes, and it seems like the ending may have thrown some people off because of expectations created by Celeste. But what are you gonna do? I at least avoided my absolute nightmare scenario of Deltarune Ch.2 doing glitch aesthetics or giving Susie and Noelle a kiss mechanic lmao
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Bestiaryposting Results: Glugreng
My apologies for posting a bit later than usual -- I was on the road most of the day for eclipse-viewing purposes, so it's already nighttime as I start this. (Update: and also Firefox crashed multiple time over the process of writing this post.) Anyway, we've got another vaguely-described bird, but one that I think has some interesting details.
If anyone isn't sure what this post is about, you can find an explanation at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. If you want to see the entry from which the artists are working, here is the link:
And in general you can see all of this stuff as it posts at the tag "maniculum bestiaryposting", assuming Tumblr's search function wants to show it to you.
Art below the cut:
@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) continues to post very impressively-rendered beasts. Here, since the only physical detail we have about this bird is "white", they've decided to take inspiration from the fact that it is kept by royal households. Medieval nobility did keep birds, usually for falconry, so here we have a raptorial design. And look, it's caught a fish! Good work, bird.
@pomrania (link to post here) observes that cataract-curing excrement is probably pretty valuable and worth collecting, so here we see a bowl with a dollar sign placed under the bird's perch. Honestly my favorite part of this is the very intense, extremely-close-up eye contact depicted in the middle there. Something about the bird needing (or just choosing) to get really up in one's personal space in order to do the curative "looking in the face" thing is charming to me.
@kaerran (link to post here) also went in the direction of "what kind of bird would be hanging around royal households" and landed on peafowl. There are a couple really clever design decisions here: it intentionally has very visible eyes so it's extra clear whether it's looking at you, and the "burning off the sickness" thing is represented as the feathers from its train being shed. (And thank you for including alt text.)
@sweetlyfez (link to post here) went in an interesting artistic direction, I think: since the entry was very clear that the Glugreng is "white all over", she rendered it entirely in thick white paint -- I think the texture is quite cool. Also I love the crown-collar-thing; SweetlyFez notes that she's only seen that in heraldry, and I think that is the only place it really appears. (I've seen at least one piece of marginalia that had an animal wearing a crown as a collar, but I'm like 80% sure that's someone's heraldic device being put in the illustrations for whatever reason.)
@cheapsweets (link to post here) jumpscared me a bit with this one. More very intense eye contact, but this time directed at the viewer. They also made the connection royalty -> falconry, and drew a bird of prey. For more details on their thought process, please see the linked post. I like the very intense eye contact conceptually, but also I keep scrolling down so it stops Looking At Me.
@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has again drawn something that makes me smile -- the art style is of course amazing, and the straight-on view of the pelican just looks so charmingly goofy. They note that pelicans have "so much convenient space to store all your pesky illnesses," and now all I can think of is a medical version of that "Put Baby In Pelican Mouth" post. (And thank you for including alt text.)
@strixcattus (link to post here) was inspired by the bestiary's decision to state that the bird is "white all over" and "has no black parts" in the same sentence. Weirdly specific, right? So they decided to explore in their post why this repetition might be necessary -- regular readers of these posts may recall that Strixcattus writes modern-naturalist-style reinterpretations of these animals. I'm not going to tell you what they came up with. Go read the linked post. Do it.
In fact, you should read all the linked posts, and consider following any or all of the wonderful artists who choose to participate in this weird little exercise.
All right, Aberdeen Bestiary time. A couple people said in their entry that they think they know what this one is, and I am excited to learn what their guesses were.
Now, since this artist tends to draw raptors in a very standardized way -- this just looks like their eagle but all white -- it's probably not possible to recognize the bird in question from this illustration. However, of course, there's a much larger problem in the way of recognizing this species:
This entry is the caladrius, which does not exist. It's another one of those mythical critters that didn't really catch on in the modern era -- or a strange misunderstanding of a real animal, like the salamander was, but honestly those aren't so much distinct categories as far as I'm concerned.
On the other hand, if you have similar Internet Experiences to me, you might have recognized it just now -- as soon as I saw the Aberdeen Bestiary illustration, I had a moment of "hang on, is that..."
The above is from the 2015 article "Two Medieval Monks Invent Bestiaries" on The Toast. You can check it out here:
(The author is now Daniel M. Lavery, but the byline on the linked article still says "Daniel Mallory Ortberg", probably because The Toast has been defunct for several years so nobody is updating these things.)
Anyway, the "bedbird" is indeed the caladrius. I was able to find the image from the Two Monks article by looking through the gallery attached to the "caladrius" entry on bestiary.ca (which has 94 examples, so it's clearly reasonably widespread). The bedbird comes from British Library MS Sloane 3544. And... I'm going to leave it up to y'all whether you think this should end with the "i've connected the two dots" gif or that quotation about the mystery no one thought was a mystery. It's late, goodnight.
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Puppy Love 5
Find the series masterlist
The first puppy playdate, with bonus Sasha! A talk is had.
Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff.
Word count: 2k
“Ready for a playdate today, buddy?” Gaz murmured to Cupid, rubbing the puppy’s ears. It had become quite common in the last two weeks to see the puppy everywhere Gaz went. Morning run? The puppy would run for as long as he could and then Gaz carried him the rest of the way. (He didn’t weigh even a fraction of what his gear weighed.) Training? Cupid was harnessed and Gaz kept the leash around his waist to keep his hands free. Even at mealtimes Cupid got to sit on Gaz’s feet.
Needless to say, everyone on base was enamored with the puppy. Including Soap.
“Sure you don’t want me to watch ‘im for you?” Soap dropped down next to Gaz, grinning.
“I’ve got him.” Gaz huffed, shaking his head. “I’d say you should get your own but I think Cap might kill you.”
“Nah, don’t want to have my own dog.” Soap reached over and booped Cupid’s nose. “More fun to play with yours.”
Gaz’s phone buzzed and he shifted Cupid to one arm to check the message.
I’m coming down the road to the gate, please tell me you’re not pranking me.
Grinning, he stood. “I’ve gotta go greet someone,” he said, being intentionally vague because he knew it would drive Soap crazy.
“Who?” Soap scrambled to his feet to follow.
“You’ll see.” Gaz waved him off and jogged down to the gate house. This would be fun.
–
You didn’t hear what Kyle said to the gate guard, but the gate opened for you smoothly, so you didn’t question it. Just thanked the guard and drove through, pausing on the other side to let Kyle hop in the passenger seat.
“I see you brought Cupid.” You smiled at the puppy in his lap.
“Of course I did.” Kyle grinned. “He goes everywhere with me.”
“Well, that’s definitely one way to get him used to things.” You drove slowly, letting Kyle direct you to a guest parking area. “I’ve got Sasha and Ginger with me today.”
“You named the puppy Ginger?” Kyle hopped out once the car was parked, following you around to the trunk.
“It suits her, with her coloring.” You opened the trunk and let Ginger out of her crate first, double-checking her harness and leash before setting her down. Kyle immediately took her leash, letting her get reacquainted with her brother. “I’m hoping to find a few people who will let Sasha say hi. She needs socialization practice, but she needs to not be approached, she’s still pretty wary of men especially.”
“We’ll find some people.” Kyle sounded quite confident in that.
You let Sasha out and kept a tight hold on her leash, even as she started sniffing. “Alright. Where are we heading?”
“This way.” Kyle nudged the two puppies into cooperating (more or less) and started off towards an open field. You followed with Sasha, letting her sniff as much as she liked.
The field was a pretty perfect space, you had to admit. Big and empty and grassy, there was plenty of room for the two puppies to sniff each other and wrestle a bit. You left Kyle with the pups while you took Sasha walking around, letting her cast in search of game to flush for you. (Not that she’d have any idea what to do if she found a bird to flush beyond bark at it, but. She was from a hunting line, and you weren’t about to discourage the behavior.)
"Is this your mystery guest?"
You looked around at the voice, gaze quickly landing on a man with a mohawk.
"This is Soap," Kyle introduced, giving your name as well.
"Nice to meet you!" Soap grinned, starting forward.
"Oh, wait!" You tugged Sasha's leash as she started barking. "Sorry, she's nervous. Just wait there, I'm gonna walk her to you. She might bark but she'll only sniff you, I promise."
"Will it help if I sit?" Soap looked quite earnest, looking between you and Sasha.
"No. Well, not yet. After she's greeted you, if you feel like being tackled, maybe." You smiled, moving Sasha to your side. "Okay, Sasha, you behave. Be gentle. Okay? Gentle."
Her tail started wagging as you two approached Soap, and she immediately started sniffing his feet, moving quickly up his legs.
"Good girl," you praised, giving her more slack on the leash. "That's the way, good job."
Soap reached one hand down for her to sniff and then scratched under her chin. "Well, look who's a sweet thing?" He crooned. "All bark and no bite, aye?"
"Thank you for being so calm." You couldn't help your relieved smile. "So many people hear her bark and get nervous, which doesn't help."
"It's fine. Seen a lot scarier than her." Soap chuckled when Sasha rose onto her hind legs, one front foot balancing delicately against his belly as she sniffed him.
"Sasha!" You yelped, tugging her back. "No! We do not jump on people."
"Ah, she's fine." Soap plopped himself down on the grass, and Sasha happily attempted to tackle him, licking his face all over with her tail wagging a mile a minute. She finally toppled him all the way to the ground, his laughter muffled as he attempted to pry her off.
"Well, this is going well." But you were beaming.
"Is she always like that?" Kyle brought the two puppies over to you, looking at his friend in the grass.
"Mostly, yeah. She's wary of people at first but once she's had a chance to sniff someone she's really friendly." You smiled, a little sadly. "I don't know why she's nervous around people."
"Keep bringing her 'round and you'll have volunteers lined up to play with her." Kyle put a comforting hand on your shoulder.
"Thank you." You smiled at him. "Well, she's happy. The pups really should be able to run around but I don't want them running off or getting underfoot."
"They're fine here. Or we can find an unused office to let them frolic in."
"Did you just say frolic?" Soap demanded, sitting up half-way with Sasha still standing on his chest. "The fuck? You been swapped with a changeling, then?"
"Fuck off," Kyle said, laughing. You just smiled, content to watch the two verbally assault each other.
Since you weren't part of their antics, you spotted John first, and you smiled widely.
"Gaz didn't mention you were coming today." John stopped a few feet away, though he smiled at you.
Sasha barked and launched herself off of Soap (you really tried not to laugh at his pained groan) to run straight to John. She wiggled right up to him, tail wagging so hard she couldn't walk in a straight line, and shoved her nose against his leg until he started petting her.
"Oi," Soap groaned, sitting upright. His face was red from laughing. "Why does Cap get special treatment?"
"Guess she remembers you," you said with a soft smile, inwardly melting over the sight of the gruff man leaning over to rub Sasha's ears.
"Smart girl." His eyes were very blue and full of humor when he looked at you, and you warmed in response.
"You should show her around, Cap," Kyle interrupted before Soap could say anything else. "She hasn't seen much yet."
"I don't want to interrupt you," you murmured, though you never looked away from John.
"It would be my pleasure." He grabbed Sasha's leash and then held out his other hand for you. "If you'll do me the honor?"
Distinctly warm under the collar now, you walked over and took his hand. "I'm glad to see you," you whispered, just for him.
"Likewise." His lips crooked in a smile. "Are you fine if I keep her?"
"Of course. Just watch out, she casts. She thinks she's a hunting dog."
John chuckled, keeping hold of your hand as he started to walk. "That so? She ever been hunting?"
"No, I have no interest." You shrugged, tightening your grip on him as the two of you started walking. Although he seemed to be taking you around the back, you noticed with some amusement. "But she is from hunting lines, and her breeder took all his dogs hunting."
"Hmm." John gave her more loose leash, watching her cast back and forth through the grass. "She's a beautiful dog."
"She is, and I am lucky to have her, despite all my grumbling."
"Pretty sure that goes both ways, love. She's lucky to have someone as kind as you."
You ducked your head, quite warm again. John just chuckled quietly and squeezed your hand, continuing the leisurely walk around the compound with you.
It felt so… wonderful. Almost normal (except for all the military detritus). Sweet.
Extremely tempting, too.
"John," you started slowly, holding his hand a little tighter. "Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but… I'm not interested in a, uh… dalliance. I know we both have busy lives, and I don't want to waste anybody's time. If all you want is something physical, then–"
"No. No, love, that's not all I'm after." He smiled at you, gentle and warm. "You're not presumptuous. I'd rather know what you want out of this now. I'm not an easy man to be with, I know that. I'm busy and I put my work before most everything else." The look he cast at you was so warm you felt like you were basking in a ray of morning sunshine. "But I want to try, with you."
"Good." You stepped closer to him. "Because I want to try, too. I really like you.”
“I like you, too.” He chuckled softly, eyes warm and happy. “Haven’t done this in a while, might be a bit rusty.”
“You’re not the only one.” You grinned at him. “We’ll figure it out as we go along, how’s that?”
“Fine by me.” He squeezed your hand, keeping you close as the two of you walked. “Next time I can come out to you, if that’s easier.”
You laughed quietly. “Well, might be easier on my blood pressure. Even though I had an invitation, I was still nervous talking to the gate guard.”
He rumbled a quiet laugh. “I hope he was polite, at least.”
“Oh, very. Wasn’t his fault at all.” You shrugged. “Just me being weird, I suppose.”
“Not weird. This is outside your normal.” He shifted closer to you. “Don’t feel ashamed of that.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re going to be good for my self-esteem, aren’t you?”
“I hope so.” He pressed closer, tugging you to a stop. You were well-hidden from prying eyes, behind the buildings and away from the bustle of the main compound. He held your gaze for several moments, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand.
And then he kissed you. It was soft, sweet, and short. Just a chaste meeting of lips. His facial hair tickled against your skin, a pleasant if new sensation. You blinked slowly at him and smiled.
“Wouldn’t mind doing that again,” you murmured, rather hopefully.
His lips twitched into a smile. “Yes ma’am.” He leaned in again.
And Sasha ran in between the two of you, wiggling happily, wanting to get in on whatever fun this was. You laughed, dropping your head to look at the furry black menace currently standing on one of John’s feet.
“Maybe without Sasha, next time,” you said, shaking your head. “She’s a menace.”
John huffed. “Next time, I’ll make sure there are no interruptions,” he murmured, low and intent.
You couldn’t help the little shiver that inspired, but it was the good kind of shiver. “I look forward to it.”
John started walking again, letting Sasha go back to sniffing everything around her, and you stayed close to his side.
“What’s your schedule like for this coming week?” you asked him as the two of you walked around a building.
John shrugged. “Unless something changes, I’ll be here.” He glanced at you, curious.
You drew in a deep breath. “Would you like to come over for dinner one night? I’ll cook for us.”
“When works best for you?”
“Wednesday?”
“Then I’ll be there Wednesday night.” He leaned in closer, and his breath at your ear made you shiver. “Won’t have any interruptions then.”
Which, of course, was when Sasha started barking at someone. With a little huff, you took her leash back, tugging her back to sit next to you.
Wednesday could not come soon enough.
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I recently got my first office job where I am interacting with my coworkers regularly. do you have any evil conversation skills that you think i should learn first
1. Figure out the easiest/most comfortable ways to say the whole spectrum of soft no’s to hard no’s from a scale of ‘genuine regret (invites future attempts if scheduling allows)’ to ‘polite deferral (respectful and evasive, somewhat firm)’ to ‘stone-cold shut down (professional Fuck You)’; you gotta know them all and you gotta be able to deploy them as needed. or at the very least, you gotta know how to give yourself time so you don’t automatically say ‘yes’ when you don’t want to.
2. The easiest way to make a good impression on people is to balance being useful and making others feel useful, which means offering some of the specific knowledge/insight you have and also asking for/acknowledging the knowledge/insight of others. offering/asking can be a weird balance, sometimes for some people in some contexts it comes pretty naturally, other times I find myself parsing out one (1) resource bit by bit to gauge whether someone’s actually looking for it or if it’s received in a lukewarm way. If ‘useful’ can’t really be a selling point at the moment (e.g. starting with zero experience rather than having an established knowledge base in a new environment) then you can always swap out ‘useful’ for ‘interesting’. know a charm point you have that can hook other people’s interest, know how to find and highlight other people’s charm points. If you want a mutual relationship it’s better to make an effort to share equally (for some people that means intentionally holding back, for other people that means intentionally speaking more), but if you’re just trying to coast it’s usually easiest to keep turning the conversation back on them and track topics the other person can get chatty about (pets, kids, shows, how they’re doing, etc).
hang on those are too reasonable and not evil but I’ve typed it all out so I’m not deleting. so, there’s a bunch of worksheets about ‘rules for fighting fair’ and if you ever meet a coworker you fucking hate then you wanna take those rules and do the opposite of all of them in order to have an on-purpose bad faith conversation and to make it as miserable for everyone as possible
1. If the coworker you hate is trying to talk about one specific problem, disagree with whatever their definition is and refuse to compromise
2. Bring in as many stupid tangential asides as possible so their original point gets buried
3. If you want to be legit evil, always imply or directly state that whatever they’re going through is a personal problem and a Skill Issue
4. Always find a way to vaguely disagree with your coworker. If they have a good point, say ‘Well, no, it’s actually like [basically rephrasing their point]’; you can either be subtle about this (negging) or blatant about this (The Mansplainer)
5. There’s a limit to how disrespectful anyone can be as a new employee. Find that limit and keep just short of it.
6. Always deflect and blame someone else, or if there isn’t someone to blame, have different excuses at the ready for anything that anyone might take issue with.
to some, evil communication skills is to win. but I think the most successful (insufferable) application is when the point is to make everyone as miserable as possible. I’m not trapped here with you, You’re Trapped Here With Me. also I wouldn’t actually recommend doing many of these things if you want functional working relationships. but it’s good to keep in mind if you’re ready to go nuclear! but more seriously, I do think these are important evil communication skills to learn because if you recognize someone using them against you, it gives you the chance to make strategies based on their behavior. 1. If someone is disagreeing with you any time you try to express a problem, shut down the conversation and reengage with a mediator that will be fair to you; 2. if stupid tangents keep showing up, it’s up to you to be the terrier with its teeth sunk into the mailman’s leg; etc. anyway this has gone too long and someone else should probably be giving more legit advice
#ask#anonymous#whoops this got long#oh almost forgot#congrats and good luck! hope you don’t have to use the evil skills!
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Heyyy I'm the person who left a whole novel review about your Field the Expanse fanfic in the comments :) I was wondering if you have any of your own designs for the iterators that you thought about while writing that fic?
Mostly that Suns has nice legs. Also, I assume Iterator puppets are soft/rubbery on the surface (how Moon looks in the base game art) to keep gunk out of their seams.
When I write I’m intentionally vague about certain kinds of visual details since I don’t want to limit readers’ imaginations. But for anyone curious about what I personally envision, it’s nested below.
⬇️ Art (cw suggestive) ⬇️
I picture Suns’ legs as very glam, femme and sensual. I honestly spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about Suns’ legs. Sometimes with red backseams… because a bitch is thirsty
I like to give Iterators feet because they’re a very expressive body part (same as hands) so it compensates a little bit for them having no mouths or brows. Also I like to give Suns louboutins. Enby slay ❤️
Here’s an older illustration I made for Red Tassels aside Four Dots:
Thighs = squeezable.
That’s pretty much how I envision them when I write! Usually still attached to their arms, though.
#rain world shipping#rw shipping#rw sunstone#my fic#my art#suggestive#sunstone#five pebbles#seven red suns
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