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fanaticsnail · 6 months

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Remember Me

Hello Shanks fans!

This work was requested by @aishabbbb, which I linked back to here for the full description of the prompt. This is my third (technically fourth because my thoughts ran away with me!) requested work that I've completed.

I'm not currently taking requests, but if you do want to see my writing style depict a specific idea, I will honestly most likely hyper-fixate on it until the idea consumes me if you do ask me nice enough. I do appreciate a good prompt! And seriously, who doesn't love an amnesia trope!

Word Count: 6,636

My Masterlist is here!

Echoes of gruff laughter lingered in the air as tankards of ale clanged against one another. It had been a while since the Red-Hair Pirates had made port and as they viewed a rowdy port full of lively music, contagious laughter and bursting at the seams with a variety of pleasurable company; they could not resist.

This port had been known for some time to be a lawless town, accepting of any journeymen as they resupplied their vessels, sailors selling their wares and even the odd Marine here or there had graced the town with their presence. The World Government paid no mind to the comings or goings, knowing should the port be shut down; their supply of rum would slowly dwindle away.

The Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates sat upon a stool at the rear of the room as he stared into the bottom of his tankard, watching the amber liquid slosh from side to side. He withdrew into himself; his former joy and carefree attitude no longer present on his features this night.

A woman with a painted face sauntered over towards the captain, swaying her hips as she overemphasized her intentions.

“Care for some company, sweetheart?” she asked him in a sultry tone as she took his hand in hers that still clasped the tankard. He made eye contact and smiled from the corner of his mouth before withdrawing the hand from her grip and drew his drinking vessel to his mouth.

“Not today, love,” he said, taking a drink from his tankard, “but I can point you in the direction of someone who would be more than happy to share your time.”

She smiled as Shanks gestured to his senior officer, who had a black bandana featuring a white jolly roger insignia atop his lengthy blonde hair. His expression was one of a displeasing grimace, black glasses concealing more of his irritation behind them.

“See if you can bring a smile to his face, would you?” he laughed slightly as she nodded as she made her way to her next target.

Plonking two fresh pints down on the table before him, Benn Beckman sighed as he sat on a stool facing his Captain; taking one of the pints and gesturing for Shanks to do the same.

“You turned her away?” Beckman questioned his Captain, “I thought you’d enjoy a pretty blonde giving you attention this time.”

“I’m not as open today as I have been any other day to the company of a painted lady,” Shanks laughed in response raising his pint and clanging it against his First-Mate’s, “or any other man or woman you’ve since such sent my way. You know this.”

“Oh,” Beckman uttered, eyes widening before looking down at the table, “I didn’t realise it was today. Sorry Cap’n.”

“Don’t apologise, Beckman,” he smiled at him before drinking from the tankard. He moaned slightly as the cool, bubbling liquid hit his lips and he tasted the bitter flavour of the hoppy amber ale.

“How long has it been since-?” Beckman began, halting his words in search for the more appropriate way of phrasing it.

“How long has it been since my bride was claimed at sea?” Shanks offered to complete his First-Mate’s sentence. Beckman nodded in response, gesturing with his pint for Shanks to offer his answer.

Shanks sighed and leant back in his stool, his back thumping against the small railing at the back.

“This day marks ten years,” he added with a sad smile. A silence fell between them as they reminisced the day the Captain of the Red-Hair Pirate’s wife was lost to him.

After a brief pause, they commenced their drinking as they surveyed the movements of the patrons and crew interacting with one another.

Beckman raised his tankard to his lips and begin to gulp with gusto at the frothing liquid. He trailed his eyes throughout the bar as he did so; looking to Limejuice as he grit his teeth tightly at the blonde woman’s incessant and unrelenting flirtation was thrust upon him.

He continued his assessment of the room before his attention was caught by a group of sailors laughing amongst each other, a woman throwing her had back at the joke uttered by one among them. Benn Beckman spluttered into his tankard, coughing as the amber ale entered into his wind pipe and corrupted his lungs with it. He continued to draw in his breaths while maintaining visual contact on the situation unfolding before him.

“Benn,” Shanks addressed his choking crewman, “you alright?”

The First-Mate continued coughing and spluttering, managing to relieve his lungs of the bitter substance and gasping in a long breath. His pigment all but fled from his face as he continued staring blankly at the bar in horror.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Shanks laughed, placing his tankard down on the table before clapping a hand against the upper arm of Beckman’s shoulder.

“I-I think I have,” Beckman stuttered slightly before bringing his attention to his captain, “look to the bar and tell me if you can see her too, Captain.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion, laughing lightly at the confession of his crewman before turning and immediately having the playful expression pulled from his lips.

“You see her?” Beckman asked him in a voice just above a whisper.

The Captain wordlessly rose to his feet, almost toppling the stool over in the process as he made his way to approach the woman. His bride, his queen. His whole world was carelessly and unaware of his presence as the melodical laugh fell from her lips; a sound Shanks never thought he would once again experience.

------------------

You tapped the chest of the older sailor in front of you as you continued to laugh at his joke.

“Harold,” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye, “and that’s the reason you only have three toes on your left foot?”

“Honest to goodness, lass,” he continued to rumble laughter, his eyes twinkling with utter mischievousness, “the bloody crab nearly carved the whole lot off, if not for my quick thinking!”

He imitated the pinching movements of a crab’s claw and crooked his head to make himself look as crab-like as he could, prompting another roar of laughter to erupt between the sailors and yourself.

“Alright, I’ll get you that drink then,” you teetered your laughter and turned to address the bartender you had come to know, “Mary, give us a couple schooners of ale- the pale stuff if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Right you are, my love,” she acknowledged your order and began pouring the foamed liquid into two smaller cups.

It had been ten years since you found yourself lying upon the shore with no recollection of who or what you were before your arrival. Thankfully enough, your body was strong. You knew how to hold your own when it came to unwarranted and unreciprocated attention, often brawling with men to assert yourself among them.

As you needed a job to afford food, you managed to bully Captain Harold of the Angelfish Shepherds Fishing Crew and would accompany them out to sea, bringing in several catches a day and selling their many items throughout town. It was only when the sun would disappear behind the horizon, you would come home to the tavern: "Mary’s Resting Track" and make yourself comfortable with your crew at the bar; drinking well into the night.

Just as Mary had finished pouring from the keg, you felt an arm placed upon your left shoulder, prompting you to turn to face it's source.

“My bride,” a tall, red-headed man gasped in a voice above a whisper as he drew you in to place his lips against yours. You squealed at the tender impact, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth at the sudden softness and passion you felt from the unknown man. You pushed on his chest slightly before creasing your brows in confusion.

“Steady on, Sailor. Save it for your wife,” you laughed at him, collecting the two schooners from the bar and placing one into the hands of Captain Harold, “or at least buy me a drink first!”

You laughed, prompting your crew to do the same as they raised their glasses and took a drink. You rose yours to your lips and drank from it, keeping playful eye contact with the sailor before you.

He was handsome, his red hair immediately drawing you in. He had a black cloak shrouding his left arm from view and a three-point claw mark over his left eye. His face held a shocked, sobering expression on it as if he was staring at something extra-terrestrial in make.

“Y-You,” he stuttered out, “Y-You’re.”

The words caught in his throat as he again reached his right hand up to attempt to secure a fallen strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You swatted his hand away from completing the action.

“No,” you said firmly, playfulness leaving your face as your eyebrows collected themselves with a frown, “no one touches my hair. It’s out of bounds to even those who know me, and know me; you do not.”

You swiped his arm away fully away from your face while keeping a warning, reprimanding look on your features. He continued to stare at you, his eyes swelling slightly as they fluttered between your own; pleading with you and searching within them for a small shroud of recognition.

“She’s saving it for her beloved,” your crewman mocked you in a high-pitched tone, bringing humour once again to the room. You laughed at his jest, prompting you to turn away from the red head to scold his imitation.

“I don’t sound like that,” you laughed at him, prompting your crewman to again mock you by wobbling his head from side to side and scrunching up his face.

You turned back around to see the man again gazing with a fierce intensity born deeply into your eyes and managed this time to tuck a strand of your hair behind your left ear with his right hand. At this, you brought your own hand firmly up and struck the side of his face, all humour once again leaving you.

At the crisp strike, chaos erupted at the bar. A crew of pirates drew their pistols, pointing it towards you; while your crew of sailors pulled their own from their belt and aimed it at them in response. You kept your eyes completely fixed on the red-haired pirate as his face continued to hold a yearning expression.

“She gave you a warning, Sailor,” your Captain spat at him, “I don’t care how much ale you consumed, you respect the wishes of a lady.”

This seemed to shatter whatever illusion was held on the redhead in front of you as he looked to the assortment of pirates behind him. He held up his hands in defence of himself, taking a step back from his proximity near you and nodding his head in a deep bow.

“Easy, lads,” he smiled, “put them away. We don’t bring out our guns at one little slap.”

The crew focussed their attention on you as you shook your head and creased your brows at his address. He again turned to you, and bowed his head slightly deeper as an apology.

“You’ll have to excuse me, miss,” he uttered, “I didn’t mean to cross your boundary. It was reactionary, and for that I offer my most sincere apologies.”

Your gaze softened at his words as you gently used your pointer finger to raise his chin to look at you once more.

“Apology accepted on the condition of buying me and my friends a round of drinks,” you scrunched your nose with a small wink. He laughed at your remark, shaking his head and smiling once more.

“I would have to agree, miss. Definitely the next one on me,” he continued to gaze into your eyes as you withdrew your finger from his chin and tapped his nose with it playfully.

-----------------

You didn’t remember him. That must be the only reason you didn’t hoist yourself into his single arm and cling yourself against him. Why you didn’t lean into the kiss and allow him to lace his hand into your hair and relieve your face from it shrouding your vision. The act so intimately solidifying your relationship in the early days, holding onto it as you spoke your wedding vows.

No-one was to ever touch your hair apart from yourself and your beloved were the words you spoke while dressed in your white, lace dress aboard the Red Force; Beckman performing the ceremony all those years ago.

You were married in your youth, relationship blossoming from friendship to something more on the Oro Jackson under the watchful gaze of Gol D. Roger. The subtle glances turned into subtle touches, turning into kisses stolen from within the hidden halls of the Oro Jackson as you would press each other against the walls and roam your hands along your bodies.

He was obsessed with your hair, and with each caress, each embrace, he would find himself absent-mindedly playing with it. You vowed alongside your commitment in matrimony that only he and he alone would be allowed to tuck your hair behind your ear in adoration; and you be the only one permitted to place a kiss atop the crown of his head.

Shanks had to contain himself as his soul screamed within the chasms of his chest to embrace you, to hold you against him and cry out in joy at your return. He didn’t touch another woman in the ten long years it had been since your last departure; the notion turning to ash in his mouth at the mere suggestion. It had only been until recently that Beckman prompted him to seek out someone to relieve his tension, but he felt it would’ve been an insult to the beautiful memories you shared with one another.

You were even in the process of early conversations on what starting a family would look like aboard the Red Force with his assortment of rowdy crew.

You would bicker at having the ship make birth permanently at a port, returning every two weeks to the solid shore as Shanks refused to halt his travels. He wanted you and the children aboard, rearing them alongside his crew; an idea you immediately shot down as you understood infants waking and crying at every interval and the disruption would not be fair to bring to the crew.

Shanks remembered Beckman adding to that conversation with: “We’re already getting sleepless nights from the sounds echoing the halls originating at your quarters!”

He chuckled at the memory before he remembered the fear on your face as the storm threw you overboard in your attempt to raise the sheet from the topmast and secure it in place. The black sky and torrential winds making it impossible to see your form as you struggled against the waves. He didn’t see what happened, only noticing your departure once they successfully made it through the storm and into the central eye of it.

The roar-like scream rumbling throughout the chest of the Red-Haired Captain still reverberating within the ears and memories of the entire crew as they recollect it every year. The pain shared amongst them as their captain bore his grief openly; drowning in rum every night before Beckman pulled him out of his rut with the reprimand: “this is not what she would have wanted.”

It mattered not what happened to him from that point. The pain of loosing you was far greater than any earthly injury could bring forth. He didn’t even bat an eye as his arm was claimed by a great Sea-Beast; consuming his flesh within it’s belly. He was more upset by the fact his golden wedding band perished at its disappearance.

And here you were, not a scratch upon you; laughing as if you had not a care in the world.

You had no memory. That was the only explanation Shanks had as he gazed lovingly at you, drinking your free ale at his expense.

----------------

You shook your head at a comment made by one of your crewmen as they suggested to hold a drinking competition between the red-haired pirate’s crew and your own.

“I don’t think I have enough booze in the house for that,” Mary laughed from behind the bar.

You smiled at her comment, turning back around to see the far off look in the red-head’s eyes.

“You know,” you nudged him with your shoulder, bringing his attention back towards you, “for someone that leads in lips first, you’re awfully quiet.”

He chuckled at your comment, expression softening but with a hidden depth you couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m not usually like this,” he scrunched his nose up with a smile.

“Rough time at sea, then?” you asked him, gesturing to Mary with two fingers to indicate your intentions of purchasing the next round for you and the red-head.

“Not particularly, its just-,” his words trailed off, prompting you to gaze your eyes; flittering them between his own two deep brown orbs before he took a deep breath and looked forward at his crew interacting with your own.

“You gestured for the good stuff, right?” she asked, placing two short, round glasses down on the counter; spiced rum swishing in the base as she did so.

“That I did, love,” you replied, placing down your berry on the counter and taking the glasses from it. You went to place the glass into the red-head Captain’s hands, noticing it was already occupied with a half-drunk tankard of ale.

“You keen on a rum?” you asked him, bringing his gaze up. He gasped out a quick hum, raising the tankard and downing the remainder of his ale with haste and placing the empty vessel atop the bar. He rose his hand to accept your offer and his fingers brushed against your own as he claimed the drink from your hand.

He looked down to your collar bone and noticed a single gold ring hung from a piece of fine leather around it. He furrowed his brows at it as to inspect it from his great distance.

“The gold band around your neck,” he gestured down to your left hand, “are you married?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sailor,” you laughed at him, “I was found with it.”

You sipped at the rum and creased your brows as the heavy alcohol entered your system.

“I apologise for slapping you,” you uttered, “I, uh. I made a promise, you see. I don’t really know what about or to whom, truthfully.”

He hummed at your comment, fixing his eyes on your face as you spoke. He trailed his eyes over your body, looking at you with an expression completely unreadable. Somewhere between: bewildered, surprised, great sorrow, relief, curiosity and apprehension.

“I don’t actually have a lot of that – knowledge, I mean,” you reiterated with a smile, “For the better part of ten years, I’ve been building back what I think I used to be like. I have no idea, though. I could’ve been some prissy young lass with a string of twelve children; or some standoffish, uptight cow-.”

“-You were never like that,” the red-head interrupted you, prompting you to snap your gaze up to meet with his.

“Do you know me, Sailor?” you asked him, your brows creasing together.

“Shanks,” he corrected you, “my name is Shanks.”

“Alright, Shanks,” you corrected yourself, “Do you know me?”

He sighed, drinking a small amount of liquid from his glass and looking to the rowdy crowd as their boisterous laughter echoed throughout the walls.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m going to need two things,” he said, downing the remainder of alcohol from his glass in one quick swell, “another drink, preferably a bottle this time.”

You laughed at him, before asking; “and the other thing?”

“Privacy,” he uttered with a small hint of sadness. You expressed concern within your eyes before patting him on the back and rubbing small circles in comfort to him.

You weren’t sure why you brought your hand up to comfort him, it seemed almost reactionary. A natural instinct of familiarity; organic.

“Alright, Shanks,” you began, making eye contact with Mary once more, “I’ll buy you a bottle under one condition.”

“And what might that be?” he chuckled warmly.

“That you give me a small glint of information before we proceed to the beach,” Mary placed the bottle on the counter and you placed down more berry in response, “I need to know if you are threatening me with a good time, or if you plan on executing me to reclaim some debt.”

“Were we enemies?” you asked him, bearing your gaze at the wall behind the bar.

“Sometimes,” Shanks shrugged his shoulders, prompting you to snap your gaze back to his. He erupted a full belly laugh from his diaphragm at your reaction. He let out a deep sigh before he suggested; “let’s make to the beach and I’ll fill you in.”

Mary smiled, looking between the two of you before the beckoning of Captain Harold and several bottles of the cheapest rum called her from her place before you.

You nodded, neglecting to collect glassware while you grasped the neck of the bottle; not once removing your eyes from the red-head next to you.

You made your way down towards the beach, walking in step with Captain Shanks, as the crew bid him goodnight. You noticed several members of his crew gawked at you as if they had seen a phantom or something of the make.

Once gazing into the open sea, the Captain plonked himself unceremoniously on the sand, legs spread wide as he sat with his knees bent upwards. You smiled at him before crouching down to sit beside him, uncorking the fresh rum bottle in your hands and offering it to him. He smiled as he took it from your grasp and brought it to his lips.

You trailed your eyes over his form, trying to conjure a whisp of memory from the recesses of your mind. After having no image return to you, you rose up your voice.

“So-,” you began, only to be cut off my Shanks.

“You were – are,” he started to relay, laughing at the fact he spoke over you. You nodded to him to continue.

He paused, sighing before again voicing what he was attempting to confess to you.

“It’s been ten years to the day since I lost you,” he sighed, looking down to the sand near his knees, “and not a day went by that my thoughts were not drawn to you.”

You looked at him, puzzled at what he was telling you.

“Your gold band,” he gestured with his hand towards your neck grasping the bottle, keeping his eyes fixed on the sand below him, “was gifted to us by our former Captain we served under: Gol D. Roger. He had a lot of love for you and I.”

“The King of the Pirates?” you asked him, eyes wide before adding, “and us. What do you mean, us?”

He sighed again, this time bringing his head to slouch back as he gazed at the dark and cloudless sky above you.

“I can’t tell you what happened right now. It’s-,” he paused between the words, prompting you to inch forward and look at his face. He turned his face away from you as you attempted to gaze into his eyes; “-it’s too painful today.”

You frowned and instead reached down to the hand placed upon his hand, and swiftly reclaimed the rum bottle from within his grip. He turned his head towards you at this and trailed his eyes up to yours as you placed the lip of the bottle and downed two large gulps of the liquid. You squeezed your eyes as the strong alcohol burned its way down your throat and into the pit of your belly.

He laughed at your actions, finally the forlorn expression eclipsed by glee.

“You haven’t changed,” he uttered, reaching his hand up to your hair before recoiling it back again. You watched him do this, as processing the boundary you expressed earlier still lingered within his thoughts. Instead of reaching your hair with his hand, he fell his grasp to your hands as they held the rum bottle.

“Is there truly nothing you remember of me?” He asked you, looking down to where his single hand rested upon your own. You furrow your brows and search your mind through closed eyes, willing yourself to remember any aspect about him. You hissed out a growl in frustration as you found no recollection.

“I want to,” you whispered to him, “you seem a decent kind of man, if not a little forward with the kiss and all.”

He chuckled at your comment, his laughter building to a rumble. His shoulders began to quake lightly as his laughter died and morphed into soft sobs. He attempted to conceal them from you by raising his hand up from where it rested atop his knee and turned to face away from you. You were overwhelmed slightly by this man becoming wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, bringing yourself to rest on your knees as you pulled yourself closer to him.

You opened your arms and shimmied your legs forward, hoisting them over his bent knees and found a comfortable spot on the sand to rest between them. Your arms circled his shoulders as you felt his right arm wrap beneath your waist and hook up your spine. He held his face flush with your stomach and squeezed his hand to grasp at your body as if you were to slip away at any moment. You felt his shoulders begin to relax into your embrace while inhaling your scent. You looked down the top of his head before absentmindedly bringing your lips down to place a chaste kiss against his hair. He flinched slightly at this impact, tension building in his shoulders before he slumped them forward.

You heard him sigh into your diaphragm as you did so, bringing his face away from its hidden position against you and resting his chin atop your chest to bring his sights to look up at you. For some reason, this man as he held you in an intimate proximity did not have you thrusting him away from your with excessive force as you did with so many others.

You unwrapped your left hand from around his shoulders and set it against his cheek. His youthful smile returning as you caressed him. You warmly smiled in response, feeling the gruff of his stubble against the palm of your hand before he turned his head and placed a brief kiss atop your inner hand.

“I am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to getting you to fall in love with me once again,” he whispered against your hand before turning his head to meet your gaze, “this I swear.”

Your eyes widened at the comment with a small smile toying at your mouth.

“I gather my undying devotion is overwhelming for you,” he chuckled, prompting you to move your hand away from his face and place both hands atop his shoulders.

“It is, to be perfectly candid with you,” you giggled at him, smoothing your arms over his shoulders and tracing circles against them with your thumbs, “I have tried everything to bring a small fragment of the person I once was to the forefront of my being.”

He trailed his hand from its place at the small of your back and rested it atop your left hip, grasping it firmly within his palm and kneading the flesh beneath it.

You brought your attention to the gold ring on your leather necklace as you held onto his shoulder, narrowing your eyes at the metal slightly; pleading within your own mind to bring forth any memory of the man cradling himself against you.

“To put myself in your hideous sandals,” you uttered, prompting him to quirk his head slightly to the side, “you found me, and it’s almost as if you did so only to lose me again.”

“Aye, it is,” he nodded, looking down again and meeting his eyes with the flesh of your forearm. He ghosted his lips over your left arm, dragging it higher within the crook of your elbow. Your hair follicles stood on edge under his ministrations, as he continued to not kiss your skin; but rather feel the way your body tasted below his lips.

“And you looked lovely in my highly practical sandals, last time you wore them,” he smirked his lips against your flesh before placing a kiss against it. He trailed kisses varying in intensity back down your forearm and against your wrist, prompting your breath to hitch in your throat.

That comment was it. After a variety of interpersonal and intimate words shared regarding your prior relationship with the man beneath you; it was the ugly sandals that brought a flitter of memory to grace behind your eyes. Any other comment; the hand in your hair from earlier, the wedding ring gifted by Gol D. Roger before he was executed, anything else; it was the ugly sandals he found in the run of the mill town that he purchased and, much to your horror, wore in public.

You remember taking them from his room and fleeing above deck with them in an attempt to throw them overboard to rid yourself of their ugliness forever, only to have your waist caught by your husband as he twirled you around to face the deck again with playful reprimand in the process of doing so.

At the request of your husband, you placed them on your feet and experienced the absolute comfort they bore you; almost shrieking in disgust at yourself for relishing in the feeling; as he belly-laughed at you.

“We’ll get you some at the next port” you heard his voice within your mind, “then we can be matching.”

You remembered him wiggling his eyebrows, prompting you to place your closed fist against his chest and tap him slightly.

“We can even get tiny little ones for when you relent and let me put a child in you,” you remembered his tone, causing a blush to rise presently to your cheeks.

“Something the matter, love?” Shanks' voice brought you from your singular memory and back into the present moment you were sharing so intimately with your husband.

No other memory sprang forward, only a few whispers of certain smells: sea water, spiced rum and stagnant drinking water with the natural smell men aboard a boat. You circled your arms around his shoulders and again pressed him against yourself, smothering his face against your sternum between your breasts. Your mouth fell slack as you pressed your face into his hair and inhaled the aroma of the fragrance he favoured to utilise in his red locks: sandalwood and ginger prominent with his natural scent lingering beneath it.

You began to feel a rough flurry of taps from the man beneath you as he indicated for you to release him. His laughter was unrestrained as his eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“As happy as I am to once again have my face pressed between your breasts,” he heaved his laughter, “I do require air to sustain me.”

He brought his eyes to meet yours as you stared your eyes on the crashing waves of the beach as the tide began to come in further. Your eyes remained wide as you continued to will a semblance of recollection to come to you.

Once you offered no rebuttal at his comment, he again reached his hand up towards your hair only to halt it once more.

“What is it?” he asked you, now placing his right hand atop your left arm, holding it lovingly.

“I-,” you began, the words now halting between your lips. You brought your eyes down to look down and you continued to flitter them between each of his own.

“I-,” you again said, leaning in closer to him; prompting him to have a sense of seriousness overcome his features, “-will never own a pair of those ugly sandals.”

Immediately his seriousness fell away and his face split into a wide grin as his laughter rumbled within his chest one more.

“Yes, you always hated them. I think they’re wonderful,” he gasped while stifling his laughter. You continued to hold his shoulders as his laughter teetered off into a dull rumble.

“I tried to throw them overboard,” you uttered almost inaudibly, “and you threatened me with buying more of them.”

“You remember,” he gasped out a breathy sigh, “you remember me.”

He brought his torso up further to bring your foreheads to rest against each other. He nuzzled your nose slightly at the impact and squeezed his eyes shut with delight. He began to lean in to graze your lips with his, only to be halted by your gentle touch to bring him back.

“I don’t remember anything else aside from your disgusting sandals,” you whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them again and looking at him half-lidded, “and the way you looked at me when you suggested we begin trying for a child.”

A small gasp left his lips as a single tear fell from his right eye. Immediately he pulled your head against his further, seeking out your lips with his own. He moved his hand from its place at your hip to snake around your waist and hold you firmly against his lap. You felt him moan against your lips as you reciprocated his enthusiasm by lacing your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly at the new growth at the back of his neck.

As your proximity was so flush against one another, you had no choice but to press your full weight against him as he laid with his back against the sand; his hair sprawling out atop the course surface. He expertly maneuvered his right leg beneath yours without breaking the kiss, gasping into it as he darted his tongue out to meet with your own.

A soft whimper flung itself from your lips as he relentlessly attacked your mouth with his own; flittering deep and hungry kisses while trying to taste as much of you as he could with his tongue. You unlaced your fingers from his hair and raked them down his shoulders to his chest, massaging the hard muscle beneath them as you continued in your exploration. He gently rose his hand from its place around your waist and drew itself beneath your shirt and groaned when he felt your tender flesh beneath the material.

Placing your right hand below his cloak, you raked your fingers further along his ribcage and drew them up towards his left arm – halting your movement as you found none residing there.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling him smirk against your lips. You attempted to break from the kiss, only to feel his hand climb higher beneath your blouse and lie flat against your spine between your shoulder blades and continue passionately exploring your lips.

“Shanks,” you murmured a warning reprimand against his lips. He smiled while maintaining his lips against your own, feeling the soft pearls of his teeth as they made contact with your mouth. He continued to chase your lips each time you attempted to flee from his embrace.

You brought your hands up to ball the material of his white shirt within your fists and held him further against yourself, prompting him to let down his guard as he whimpered into your lips at your sudden domination. As soon as you felt him relinquish a small spectrum of control, you pushed hard on his collar bones and pried him from your lips. He first groaned in frustration before his body was wracked with uncontrollable laughter. He collapsed against the ground, prompting you to roll your body from above him to onto your own back in the sand as his laughter became contagious.

And as earlier, the heaving of your shoulders in fits of laughter evolved into heavy sobs from the both of you as you mourned the time lost between you.

“My bride,” Shanks called from beside you as he placed his right hand upon his eyes in an attempt to control his emotions.

“Yes, my groom,” you said as more of a whimper than an address.

He rolled over onto his side and hovered his face above yours, as the tears freely fell down the faces of the two of you; the moonlight cascading over your lover’s hair. Hesitantly, he reached his right hand up to your hair and slowly brought some loose strands from your face and wove it behind your ear. He sighed in relief as he watched you close your eyes and lean into his touch, taking your quivering lip between your teeth as you did so.

“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he whispered with a slight hitch of his voice. You reopened your eyes to watch him smiling through his sorrow. You returned his expression and caressed his chest and ghosting your fingertips over his left shoulder.

“And you are one arm less than I remember,” you beamed a wide smile and giggled a little at your prod. He joined you in your laughter and pressed a chaste kiss against your hair before rising to his feet and offering you his right hand to hoist you up to meet him. You took his hand and allowed him to hoist you to your feet, before he dipped his shoulder down to make contact with your waist and lifted you over his right shoulder. He secured you in place with a crisp slap upon your left ass-cheek as he effortlessly crouched down to retrieve the forgotten, half-drunk rum bottle. He rose again to his feet and began to walk with you over his shoulder, using his teeth to uncork the rum bottle and spitting it against the sand.

“Is this quite necessary?” you asked him, mock annoyance in your tone.

He laughed and took a long swig from the rum bottle and gasped in joy as the liquid burnt its way down his throat.

“Not only is it necessary,” he called to you over his left shoulder, “it is also compulsory.” You laughed at him as he almost jigged back towards the tavern, him joining you in your laughter upon arriving at its steps and flinging open the door with his feet.

The arrival of the two of you had cheers erupting and reverberating from every corner and crevasse of the wooden building. Tankards were thrust into the air, foam sloshing carelessly from the top and onto the floor; much to the many protestations of Mary.

Shanks placed you on the floor after setting aside the bottle of rum atop a cylindrical raised bar table.

“Alright lads,” he addressed the room, “let me reintroduce you to my wife!”

He extended his right hand out for you to place your left hand within. As soon as you did so, he effortlessly spun you into him, your left arm laced over your front as he cradled you against himself.

You looked up to his face, your neck laying against his shoulder as he brought his lips down to meet your own for the first time publicly in a decade. Applause, shouts of glee and delight, more sloshing of ale and verbal reprimands from the tavern keeper echoed the hall as you smiled against the lips of your beloved. Your husband, and his bride.

#one piece #opla #x reader #shanks opla #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #one piece live action #opla fic #amnesia trope #my playlist broke me #angst #angst with a happy ending

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nekomori-art · 1 year

Photo

The Burrowers 🐰

Available as a free desktop wallpaper for my Ko-fi supporters!

[ID: Illustration by Nekomori Art, depicting a colorful and crowded kitchen countertop backed by lush, green tiles. Sitting on the countertop, from left to right: a bright red microwave, a pink utensil jar holding wooden spoons and forks, a yellow tea kettle with a strawberry motif, a pair of orange drinking glasses, a green fruit bowl filled with apples and pears, and a blue milk jug just off to the side. There are also hanging racks above the countertop, which house some napkins, an old mug, more wooden utensils, and a mitten. Among all these wares are tiny white bunny characters with big, round heads and pink cheeks. They climb, sit, play, and run around, kicking up dust particles around them.]

#illustrators on tumblr #artists on tumblr #cottagecore #grandmacore #bunnies #gallery

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firsttimewriter92 · 1 year

Text

My haven could be you

Joel Miller x f!reader Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Tommy´s brother arrives in Jackson and turnes your hormones upside down. Unbeknownst to you, your mere presence makes Joel absolutely feral.

Word count: 4.235

Warnings: angst, small panick attack, pining, feelings, hidden desire, dirty talk, masturbation (male and female), pining, cursing, MINORS DNI!!!

Authors note: I was playing around with this idea of Joel going nuts because he doesn´t know what to do with his feelings and his desires. I hope I made it as juicy as I imagined it to be :P

The moment you arrived in Jackson the weight that´d pulled your shoulders down and forward lifted almost instantly. You couldn’t believe it was actually real. A functioning society, running water, supplies, regular hot meals. As long as everyone pulled their weight, this place was paradise. Even if someone didn’t have particular skills, there was always something to help with. So after resting and healing your weather-beaten and all in all almost broken body, the usual knot in your stomach returned with force and you went to find Tommy and Maria. You found them having a bowl of stew in the big community barn.

“I want to help” you said with a tight voice and looked directly at them. They shared a questioning look before Tommy answered. “We appreciate your vigor,___. It´s just…are you sure you´re up for it yet? How´s your foot?” he nodded towards your right shoe. Your lips formed a tight line. You knew your foot wasn’t fully healed yet. “It´s fine” you said lowly, still holding Tommy´s eyes. He sighed and his lips twitched slightly upwards. “It´s fine, huh?” he leaned forward onto his elbows. “When the Doc took a look at it when you arrived I distinctly remember him saying you needed to take it slow for at least two weeks. And it´s been, what? Four days?” Why was he smirking? The knot in your stomach began to burn uncomfortably.

“Tommy…please,” you started to plead, you patience waring thinner and thinner. “I can´t sit around anymore without doing anything to be helpful. I can look after the horses, I can help cook or harvest the gardens. I can….I can´t keep eating your food, taking your medication and taking up space without…without at least paying something back!” You didn’t even realise when the panting began. Swallowing big gulps of air, your pulse ran amok underneath your skin.

“Whoa, hey. Hold on” Tommy quickly stood by your side and helped your shaking body onto a chair. Without realizing it you began to pick at your knuckles again. Angry red marks appearing yet again. “___, breath. It´s okey. We´ll find something for you, don’t worry. Come on, breath. That´s it.” It was a small attack but still it had an effect. Tommy looked worriedly at you while Maria got up to get a glass of water. His hand lay itself calmly and warm onto your neck while you tried to control your breathing again. When Maria handed you the glass of water you tried to smile at her briefly and mumbled a quiet sorry. She shook her head vehemently and patted your head.

“I didn’t mean to be condescending,___. Really” Tommy said gently. You shook your head quickly. “That´s not…I didn’t think you were. I just…I need to pull my weight” you whispered almost desperately. Tommy nodded and smiled at you. “Okey. Let´s get you something to eat and then we´ll talk, alright? We´ll find you something, sweetheart.”

You gave a grateful smile when he returned with a steaming bowl and sat it in front of you. Having held back on how much you ate in the last couple of days, the delicious smell that invaded your nose made you dig in immediately, burning your whole mouth in the process. Hissing slightly you gave Tommy and Maria a sheepish look as they grinned.

“You know” Tommy said slowly while you eyes took him in. His eyes looked at you fondly. “You remind me of someone. He´s just as hardheaded, stubborn and eager to help as you.” His fond smile turned slightly bitter. “At least he used to be.” You raised your eyebrows in question. “My brother” Tommy explained with a sigh. “Haven´t seen him in ages but…you two have a lot in common.” Swallowing your mouthful of stew you gave him a smirk. “Seems like a reasonable character, your brother.” Tommy threw his head back and laughed throatily. “Yeah” he mused and looked at you amused.

“Yeah, you two would get along great.”

________________________________________________________

One year. One beautiful, blissful year in Jackson and you were your old self again. Sure, some of the worries that lingered in the back of your head would never really disappear but the knot in your stomach, the panic…it had been months since the last time you felt either. You were happy. The people of Jackson helped each other out wherever they could. Monty helped you renovate your kitchen and made sure your stove was working. In return you helped out at the school for three days so his wife could have some time off. Lauren fixed all your ripped clothes and even knitted you some sweaters for the winter. And again in return you helped her with making different kinds of pickles and jerky. That´s how it worked and you loved it. Community. No one needed to be alone.

Tommy and Maria made sure you had a comfortable little flat right above the bakery. They even gave you a small patch of land on which you grew several different kinds of herbs and flowers. Not just for cooking purposes but also some that were helpful with small medical issues. You had a good life. It was warm in winter, in summer there was running water and a small lake.

On one particular nasty winter day you were just on your way to the big kitchen in the community barn to help out when a small commotion caught your attention. The patrol was back but there were two more people riding through the gates. Your eyes caught onto a young girl with brown hair and a stoic expression. Her head however snapped from left to right when she took Jackson in for the first time. You smiled. You knew how she felt exactly. The other person was a man. Slightly greying brown hair and a patchy beard. His dark eyes moved quickly over the gathering crowd as the horses halted and the men and women got off. When the mans eyes twitched in your direction they zeroed in on you for longer than a few seconds. They looked surprised and confused.

He was handsome. Very handsome in fact and you could feel your cheeks heat up but you tried quickly to make it the biting colds fault. It seemed like several minutes that he held your gaze. Unwavering and confusing. He was definitely older than you but you couldn’t help but notice his beautiful features and big frame. Attraction. You felt immediate attraction towards him and your heart began to pound in your chest like it hadn’t done in years. Something searing began to crawl into his expressive eyes when he slowly tore his gaze from you.

Cold. When his eyes left you, you felt cold again instantly and shivered for several reasons all at once. How strange. And then to your shock and delight, the mysterious, gorgeous stranger got off his horse with a shout of Tommy´s name. No way, you thought. It´s his brother. The one Tommy had told you about several times and whos stories that he told you made you giggle or outright snort with laughter. Joel.

As you saw the two bothers embrace in happiness and relieve you couldn’t help but smile as well, happy for your friend.

And then you saw it. Joy made itself onto Joel´s face. It was like the sun was breaking through heavy clouds in early spring. Bringing with it a form of hope for better weather, warmer days, prosperity and abundance. He smiled and you immediately felt your knees weaken when the laugh lines around his eyes appeared. He huffed out a laugh and then pulled his brother back into his arms, still grinning.

An unfamiliar sensation spread through your body when you saw Joel like this. You´d seen him for the first time just two minutes before and yet his smile seemed like the most precious thing in this broken world. It warmed your toes and fingertips, made your heart go ballistic and your brain felt like it was vibrating in your skull. You knew you were staring at him but you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to.

“He doesn’t always smile like that, you know.” Screeching you jumped half a meter to the side and looked confusedly over to the young girl that had crept up on you. She was grinning from ear to ear and wiggled her eyebrows. “Huh?” you said lamely. She rolled her eyes but was still smirking. “You were staring at him like you´ve never seen a man before” she giggled. “Pretty pathetic.”

You raised your eyebrows at her choice of words. “First of all: Rude!” you pointed at her. “At least give me your name before you call me pathetic.” She looked to the ground and kicked a frozen piece of mud away. “Ellie” she said and looked at you again sheepishly. You smiled slightly. “Ellie” you repeated. “Second of all” you dared to look over to Joel and Tommy quickly. Tommy was talking to his brother animatedly but his brothers eyes were trained on the two of you. Heat reached your face again when you whipped your head around and continued. “I wasn’t staring. Just…looking.”

Ellie snorted sarcastically. “Aha. Yea, sure. Hey, Joel!” A little panicked sound made its way up your throat when Ellie raised her arms and gestured wildly towards the two men, beckoning them over. Tommy caught your eyes and pulled Joel with him to meet you. A huge shit eating grin on his lips.

When the two of them were standing right in front of you, you saw that Joel had only a couple of inches on you. His expression was still curious but a little careful as well. He turned his head towards Ellie and raised his eyebrow in question. Oh boy…

“Joel, look. I already met someone. Please, meet…uhm…” Ellie began to chuckle. “Can you believe it? She didn’t give me her name yet” her head turned towards you and with a smug expression she continued. “How rude.” Your mouth dropped open and all you could think was little shithead. Though in the next moment you realized that your thoughts were anything but hostile towards the quick mouthed teenager. It was impressive, really. She winked at you and took several steps back and moved towards Tommy so Joel´s attention was now fully on you.

Your eyes met again and with an embarrassed chuckle you extended your hand. “I´m ___. You must be Joel. Tommy´s told be a lot about you.” He shook your gloved hand with his own and again raised his eyebrow making your stomach twist with excitement. “Has he now?” he rumbled. His voice deep and smooth reminded you of honey. His eyes twitched towards his brother for a second but returned quickly to look back into yours. A slither of mischief making his dark irises glitter. “Only good things I hope?” His mouth twitched a little and you were about to melt on the spot. “I´m just goin´ to say yes for now” you said with a grin. Joels eyes squinted as if he tried not to smile.

A few feet away, Ellie and Tommy stood side by side, observing the two of you. “Wow” Ellie said and wrinkled her nose is mock disgust. “That´s actually way too cheesy for my taste. Jesus Christ.” Tommy too was staring at the scene in front of him wondering when the last time was he saw that expression on his brothers face. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “What happened to him?” Ellie shrugged. “The fuck if I know, man. Never seen him acting like that. They should get a room.” Tommy looked at the teenager. “Let´s not jump to conclusions. Maybe it´s just a glitch in the matrix.” Ellie looked at Tommy as if he´d just turned into a unicorn. “A glitch in the what now?” Tommy sighed and shook his head. His gaze returned to his brother and you, his friend, watching as the two of you held a small conversation without realising that none of you had let go of the others hand yet.

____________________________________________________________

Weeks flew by incredibly fast. Tommy had given Ellie and Joel one of the bigger houses and you had a feeling that at least Ellie was growing more and more comfortable in Jackson. She found some friends that didn’t mind her swearing and actually saw it for what it was, she helped out at the stables and always had a smile or a wink for you whenever you passed her in the streets. Joel however seemed to have some difficulty to settle down. Relax. He would go out on patrols whenever he could and mostly kept to himself. He did however have at least one meal a day at the barn. Most of the time dinner. He was usually accompanied by Tommy or Ellie, ate his meal, maybe had some whisky and then got back to his house. Your eyes would wander after him more times than one and you couldn’t help but wish for him to relax a bit more, enjoy the safety Jackson provided. You wanted to know him more.

It was almost laughable how quickly you had developed a massive crush on the handsome brunette. You felt yourself sigh from time to time when your eyes were once again trained on his neck, the curls on his head, his greying beard or his wide shoulders. There was an unusual attraction to him. Something that went further than mere physical reactions to a pretty face. It was quite strange. Especially because you knew exactly what it was. You had crushes before but they almost always only ended in physical outbursts for one or maybe several nights. And then there was either a parting of ways, a fleeting of attraction or even death. None of them devastated you though.

The way your gaze would flit to the gates whenever he was out and the constant nerves that pulsed through your body until you saw him return made you second guess yourself this time around though. You worried about him. You cared about how he felt. You even caught yourself whishing you could be the reason he would be happier in Jackson. Wishful thinking. After your initial meeting and some mundane conversations here and there, he´d taken no other actions to get to know you. His answers were one worded, his small smiles didn’t reach his eyes and you hadn’t seen him look at you once since that day when he and Ellie arrived. It was slowly driving you nuts.

So there you sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whisky and staring after the man that had just left the barn yet again. He´d worn a black shirt and a light flannel over it as the weather was slowly getting warmer. The way the material had hugged his waist and slight tummy pouch almost made you whimper with need. The alcohol coursing through you didn’t make it any better. You closed your eyes momentarily and there he was, looking at you with pure desire in his eyes. That´s it!

You threw back the rest of your drink and got up from the bar. Waving at different familiar faces you lightly stumbled outside and took some deep breaths of the still winter crisp air. Turning down the road towards your flat you felt the desire in your belly boil stronger and stronger. A small high pitched grunt escaped your throat as you forced your jelly like legs to move faster. You needed something to release the tension tonight. And the one thing you wanted more than anything to release it was not obtainable at the time. So, you had no choice than to do it yourself. You stumbled up the flight of stairs at the side of the bakery building and clumsily fished out your keys.

Once the door was closed behind you, you kicked off your shoes and stumbled into your living room overlooking the town square below. Soft light from the streetlamp offered enough light to find your cosy couch. Flopping down on it you immediately lifted your hips and got rid of the denim. Getting rid of the rest of your clothes you were a panting, desperate mess the moment you lay your body back onto the couch and got comfortable. The moment your fingertips brushed over your nipple you knew this wouldn’t take long. Your insides already clamped down around nothing by the time your hand brushed over your mound.

Images of Joel invaded your mind without you having a chance to stop them. You imagined his wide shoulders above you, his calloused hands brushing against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Whimpering and biting your lip you pinched your nipple again and lightly tapped your clit. Your legs shook and tried to close around your hand already but you forced them open again. The slightly cold air of your apartment stroking your wet and heated lips, making goosebumps appear all over your arms. “Fuck” you whispered out of breath. Your finger circling your clit faster and faster while your hips bucked upwards. Throwing your head back you felt the coil in your stomach. Just a little more.

“Fuck, please” you breathed while pushing two fingers inside of you. “Oh shit, oh shit. Ahh, Joel! Fuck. Fuck, please.” Your wrist began to hurt a little the way you so quickly tried to get to that sweet release. You screwed your eyes shut when you felt your orgasm approaching. A few hurried strokes over your clit later, combined with a hefty circling of your stiffened nipple a small shout left your lips. Your back arching into your hand as your body convulsed with Joels voice in your ears. That´s a wonderful girl. That´s it, baby, come on. Come for me, come for me! “Oh god….oh fuck!!” It seemed to go on forever. Several moments later you were still twitching and a strangely sad yet satisfied heaviness washed over you. The itch was halfway gone but you knew you had to do something about your feelings for Joel. This was getting a little out of hand and he didn’t even know about his effect on you. With a heavy sigh and still a bit tipsy you blindly reached for your blanket und pulled it up to your chin, falling asleep almost instantly.

Several houses down the road Joel was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands trying yet again to get the images of you out of his head. The images that where currently the reason for his raging erection that he couldn’t seem to be able to control. Hissing when your sweet innocent smile appeared behind his eyelids and his dick pressed even more against his zipper, he grunted and covered it with one of his hands. This was getting ridiculous. Damn coward, he was. The moment he lay his eyes on you there was something aching in his chest. An itch he couldn’t remember ever having. It wasn’t just sexual. Although he gave up on counting how often he´d already touched himself for just a tiny bit of relief whenever he´d been in your presence.

He felt dirty. Not just because you were probably a good chunk younger than him but because he felt his resolve and patience crumble by the day. He already tried his hardest to not be close to you, to not finally snap, pull you into an alley, hoist you up and kissing you neck. Not to hear your sweet whimpers when he´d finally touch you, caress your silky skin and pant praises into your ear.

“Fucking hell” he grunted and once again gave up on not relieving himself from the tortures pleasure you enveloped him in day after day. He pulled his shirt over his head, stood and kicked his jeans away. Clad in only his boxers he lay down on his bed and once again tried to take control over his body. To no avail. The moment his eyes closed he could see your glittering eyes, you enticing mouth. The beautiful shape of your body making his head spin every time he saw it. You´d worn a V-neck top today. The gently slope of your collarbone burned into his memory. The perfect swell of your chest more revealed than he´d ever saw it.

His hand brushed his bulge and he clenched his jaw shut, pulling his boxers down. His erection hitting his lower stomach gently he could already feel the wetness of precum smudging the angry red tip. Joel drifted away. Thinking about your body underneath his own he began to stroke his cock languidly. His toes already curling slightly he thought about how you´d react to his body. His slight squishiness. Did you like that? Or did you prefer stone hard muscles? He wasn’t weak by any means but age had slowly begun to wrap its fingers around him. Imagining you´d find him as irresistible as he found you, his thumb moved over the slit, gathering the wetness there and circling it around the head.

A deep rumble echoed in his room as he opened his mouth slightly. “God, sweetheart” he breathed as he could feel the heat travel up his spine. Squeezing his cock harder and moving his hand faster up and down he felt a drop of sweat run down his neck. He imagined licking your neck, kissing your pulse point and gently biting at your ear. The sound of your sweet whimpering and breathless pleads invaded his mind. It drove him closer and closer to his end. Where you quiet in bed or would you voice your desires to him? Oh how he hoped you´d do that. He wanted nothing more than to know what made you feel good, worshipped, wanted. Loved.

By the end of that thought he almost lost all control as he felt his balls tighten. Jesus, when was the last time that feelings like returned affection got him going this hard? He was panting by now and murmuring into the darkness. “What do you like, baby, huh? T-tell me.” He gasped when he squeezed the base of his cock hard as to not come too quickly. “Bet you like my tongue, don’t you? Bet you like it when I explore every inch of you with just the tip of it.” Goosebumps covered his whole body at this point and he felt like he was drunk. His head was reeling with every possibility of having you scream his name. “I bet you have the most sensitive nipples, don’t you? Oh fuck! Hggnn…h-how long has it been for you, darlin´? God, I bet y-you´re sensitive all over. Oh, good god. Oh, fuck.” He tried to keep his voice under control but it was shaking and rough.

One hand moved to his mouth and he quickly spit in it. Still moving his other hand up and down on his shaft he covered the head with his slick palm and began lifting his hips with every stroke. He was completely gone at that point. Huffing and moaning he began to fuck his own hand imagining his hips slotted between your legs and looking down at his cock disappearing into your wet and hot pussy again and again. A high monotone sound rushed through his ears as he got lost in the sensation and imagination of fucking you deep into his mattress.

“Ah, shit, baby. That´s it. So fucking warm. Hmmpf, wanna feel you so bad, wanna make you cum for me so bad. P-Please,___. ´M coming. Fuck, fuck,___. ´M coming, c-comi…com…HMMPHH!!” His hips lifted off the bed the moment he felt an overwhelming orgasm crush into him, making him groan and releasing pent up air quickly and loudly. Still gently tugging on his spent cock he rested his head onto his pillow and tried to calm down. His heart almost beat out of his chest as he registered his sticky cum not only covered his hand but had also landed on his stomach and chest. After several minutes he grunted and got up. He walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower.

As the hot water cascaded over his shoulders, back and ass, dribbling down his strong legs he tried to make a plan on how to approach this problem he had with you. Not that it actually was a problem but he couldn’t go on like this. He needed to solve this somehow. Problem was, he hadn’t found himself in this kind of situation with these kinds of feelings in over 20 years.

Either you put him out of his misery or, for some unforeseen, ridiculous reason you desired him too. Wanted to see him smile just as much as he wanted to see you smiling every second of every day.

Grow a pair and at least next time stay long enough to have a drink with her, he scolded himself. It was a start. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was Marias birthday celebration at the barn. He actually hadn’t planed on going, seeing as Maria didn’t really seem very fond of him yet but…you´d be there. You´d be there and it would be a party of sorts. He´d get you a drink. He´d try to have a conversation with you. He´d try, damn it. Maybe Jackson was his new beginning with Ellie.

Maybe Jackson was his new haven…with you.

_________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading <3 Please consider interacting with this post. I´m really happy about every like, comment or reblog. I´d really aprreciate a written feedback in a comment or a reblog so I know if this is up the alley of my readers and followers. :) It would make my day.

I appreciate all of you, stay safe and healthy <3

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sugawhaaa · 2 months

Note

how would you feel about writing a Jiung x Fem!Reader fic where her long time boyfriend cheats on her, she goes out to drink with Jiung who's her best friend (and has a crush on her), he finds out about what happened and because they're a little drunk they decide Jiung will help her get revenge and have a little too much fun together ;) it's up to you to decide if reader and bf will stay together and Jiung will be her secret affair OR reader will dump her bf and start a new story with Jiung OR they're scared of what they did and end the friendship or whatever finale you think would suit best the main plot

JIUNG X READER

Strawberry

🍓Warings::smut!mentions of alcohol!mentions of abusive relationships!

🍓Pairing::switch!jiung x switch!fem!reader

🍓Genre:: multiple positions, cream pie, some food involved, blowjob, handjob, praise, hair pulling, degradation, orgasm denial, he calls you a slut like...a few times but not much, squirting

🍓A/N:: I'm so close to 3k and I can't believe it like 🤯 never thought my little writing hobby would take me this far...

"So let me get this straight. He had been cheating on you for a few months and he filmed them uh doing it and thought it'd be a good fucking idea to post it?" Jiung said with his right arm leaning on the counter of the bar. You threw another shot down your throat. It burned so good. You put the glass down on the counter.

"Yeah, pretty much," you look into Jiungs big eyes. He shakes his head.

"I mean seriously," he leans back and turns his chair to you. "After like three years of dating and going out all the time he gave up all of you for someone like her?" He said as he gestured to you.

"Yup, she's so fake and plastic like ew," you say as Jiung takes a sip of his margarita. "I gave him everything he ever wanted. Can we go out this weekend? Well, I had plans but sure babe! Can you do the laundry for me I hurt my back at the gym. Sure babe! Can we fuck I'm stressed? Of course babe!" You impersonated his manly voice in a mocking tone. Jiung laughed.

"You know, I never really trusted that guy," Jiung starts as you take a swig of your wine. You shoot an eyebrow at him. "Of course, I was happy for you! You found a guy who loved you as much as you loved him! It was great but after a while, I started questioning him. He had some red flags pop up and I was a little worried," Jiung explained before taking another sip of his margarita. You nodded. It looked like Jiung had one more thing to say so you let him continue. "He even talked smack about me to my face," he said as he lightly spun his margarita.

"Wait what?" You were taken aback. That didn't seem like something your ex would do to Jiung at all.

"It was after Christmas I think. You gave me a more expensive gift than him and he got pissy about it. He said 'Don't try me punk' or something like that I dunno," Jiung shrugged before taking another gulp of his margarita. His Adam's apple flexing.

"Wow, I didn't know he said that...well, I'm glad I spent my good money on you anyway," you said as you crossed your arms. Jiung finished off his margarita.

"So, I know now might not be the greatest time but remember how anytime you and him did it there were things you were gonna tell me about it but your ex said not to tell anyone?" Jiung said as he put his glass on the table along with his elbow.

"Well...it might not be for everyone's ears. Why don't we head back to your place, it's kinda getting late," you suggested as you stood up.

"Sounds good," he nodded his head and stood up as well. You chugged the last bit of your wine and paid for all your drinks. Splitting the total between Jiung. You leave the bar and walk to Jiungs Place. You were a little tipsy but not enough to make walking around town a scare. There was some idle chit chat and making you flustered when he'd ask about what you were gonna tell him at his house.

You finally got to his house and leaped onto his couch. Jiung took off his jacket and hung it up as you stretched on his couch. The sweet smell of him filling your nose.

"So, shall we continue our conversation," he smiled as he sat on the couch with you. You huffed.

"Well, he was a little bit of a jerk when it came to sex. Whenever wherever he wanted to do it, it would happen. But if I asked to do it he would reply with some bs like 'Can't you just wait?' But he said in such a rude tone," You complained as you laid down on the couch, barely giving Jiung any room to sit. "Not to mention he had no rhythm," you say with a swing of your hand. Jiung chuckled. "The amount of orgasms I had to fake just to get him to piss off is pathetic," you sigh as you play with your hair.

"Wait what? How do you fake an uh orgasm?" He asked with pink cheeks.

"It's pretty easy really, it's kind of a girl thing," you look at him ignoring his flustered state.

"I still don't get it," he shrugged.

"So when a girl cums she gets tighter it goes like woosh," you demonstrate with your hands how it works. Jiung looks like he understands but is also concerned. "But women can intentionally get tighter, we can control it," you demonstrate with your hands again.

"Ohhh," a light bulb ignites in jiungs head. "So you just do that and act like it feels really good right?" He says as he watches your hands, his cheeks pink.

"Yeah pretty much," you shrug. "Do you have any strawberries?" You ask suddenly.

"Uh maybe? Why?" He answered and watched you get up and go to the fridge. You find the package of strawberries and take them out to the living room. You open the package and lean over the arm rest.

"Open~" you say as you hold a strawberry above Jiungs mouth. He hesitates but he opens his mouth. You slip the strawberry into his mouth and he bites down on it. You pull the stem off from his mouth and clean the juice off his lips. He blushes madly. Without thinking clearly you put your lips against his. Jiungs eyes widened. No words could be spoken. You set the package of strawberries down and break the kiss. Jiung swallows the strawberry.

"Y-Y/N?" He said as he watched you closely. Trying to read your confusing body language. "I...we should talk," he says with a quivering voice, his body shifting.

"I find actions speak louder than words," you hold his cheeks with your gentle grip. You kiss him passionately, adding tongue this time. He moans softly into the kiss. He leans back onto the couch and you rest on top of him.

"I've loved you for so long," he said between kisses. You look up at him slightly shocked.

"You were always a hottie," you chuckle before biting his neck. He moaned quietly as his hand went to his mouth. You slid your hands up his shirt and feel up his abs, tracing each one of his muscles. Occasionally you kiss and bite his neck and shoulders, leaving little marks. His long hands soon followed suit. His hands inching up your stomach. The touch of his cold hands makes your stomach fluctuate. His hands went around your back as you continued to lick his neck. You tug at his shirt. "May I?" You look at him through hooded eyes.

"S-Sure," he blushes and lets you pull his shirt off. You lick his chest down to his nipple. You feel his body jerk up into yours and he pulls at your shirt. You wanted to drag this out, tease him, graze over his cock a few times before actually jerking him off. Edging him until he screams out your name but you couldn't wait. It felt like you'd already been waiting years to feel him inside you.

"Jiung..." you say softly as you remove your hands from him, sitting on top of his thighs. He tilts his head to show you he's listening. "I know how sudden this is but...I'm so horny I can't do this," you whine as you curl up on his chest. He pats your head as he listens to you. "I need you inside me..." you whisper and wait for him to reply.

"Are you sure you want that? This early?" He takes your chin to make you look up at him. You nod with doe eyes. "As long as you're okay with it..." he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. "I don't have any condoms on me though..." he says as he looks at the living room table, the strawberry pack still on it.

"No, no condom it's fine," you shake your head and take off your shirt. He looks at you surprised.

"As long as you're sure..." he seems a bit skeptical but whatever you want goes in this situation. The two of you stand up and take off all remaining clothes. When he sees you take off your bra his cheeks flush. He never thought he'd be blessed enough to see this view. Once prepared you lay down on the couch and waited for Jiung. He crawled on top of you and pumped his cock a few times. "Are you sure?" He asks one last time as he looks down at you, biting your lip.

"I'm sure baby, please, put it in," you whined as you grabbed his hand to stop him from prepping anymore than he had to because all he was doing was killing time. He took a deep breath and agreed to do what you pleaded. You bite your lip and watch as he teases his tip against your soaked folds. You buck your hips slightly in anticipation. He finally slowly slides inside you. You jump and grab his shoulders. He was much bigger than your ex...you felt your walls stretch to engulf all of his length.

You moaned loudly and arched your back. "So deep," you whimper draggily.

"Your so much tighter than I thought," Jiung groans as buries himself inside you. He takes a deep breath. "Can I move?" He asks as he looks down at you.

"W-Wait just a bit longer," you say hoarsly. You took a few deep breaths before nodding. "Okay," you look up at him and wait for him to start. One last deep breath between the two of you rings in the air before he slowly pulls out a bit and ruts back into you.

All the built-up tension between you and him throughout the years was finally being let out and you felt like you could see the light right then and there. He slowly continued to thrust up into you. Slow but consistent. Nothing like your ex but...your ex never made you feel like heaven anyways.

You whimper as he hits that gummy spot buried inside you. Your legs jerk up and a shiver runs down your body. This doesn't go unnoticed by Jiung of course and he continues to abuse that spot. He chuckled and threw his head down.

"Fuck you feel so good," he said raspily as he continued to hit your G-spot. Jiung's speed started increasing and you couldn't help but wrap your legs around his waist. He leaned down and kissed you. Your lips collide and tongues interlock. You break the kiss to hoarsely speak.

"I think I'm getting close," you whimper out before biting your lip. You feel your walls tighten around his length but it doesn't slow him down one bit. If anything it persuades him to go faster. You throw your head back and let out an aching moan, your nails clawing at his shoulders. Jiung shakes his head, his platinum hair hanging in front of his eyes. He's unable to move his hair due to his hands being glued to your hips.

One final hit to your g-spot and your body lunges forward. Your body shakes lightly as you cum all over him. He quickly pulls out and sprays his load on your stomach. His arms shake as he tries to hold his body up. You tuck back his hair to see his eyes glistening. You chuckle lightly as your chest heaves.

"I have never," he starts before taking a minute to breathe. "I've never felt so good," he chuckles before placing one of his hands to his chest.

"I can make you feel even better," you say as you sit up. He looks confused before you push him to lay on the couch.

"W-What are you-Ah!" He moans as you put your lips around his tip. You can see the shiver run down his body. "Wait, wait, wait, fuck!" He tries to squirm out of your hold but he ends up moaning and throwing his head back. Your hand is around the base of his cock while the rest is in your mouth. His fresh semen tingled on your tongue. Jiung grabs your hair as you roll your tongue around his sensitive tip. He swallowed hard and whimpered quietly.

You twisted your hand up and down from his base to your lips, bobbing your head as well. Due to all the blowjobs your ex wanted you were basically an expert with no gag reflex. "Y/N-ah, please god," he rambled nonsense as you started going faster. The orgasm he just had hasn't fully settled yet which made him extra sensitive and prone to cumming early. Your goal was to make him cum back to back and by the looks of it, it was going good. He tugged your hair one last time before cumming in your mouth.

You slipped your lips off of his tip and watched as he came on his stomach. Just like he did to you. You smirked and swallowed the semen in your mouth. He threw his head back and relaxed. You licked up his stomach and sent shivers down his spine.

"You little-!" Jiung tried to sound angry at you for not giving him any warning for giving the best blow and hand job but in reality, he was seeing stars. You smiled up at him with some of his cum dripping down your lips. His heart skipped a beat and he sighed. "Don't look at me like that, I'm still gonna get back at you," he said as you laid down on the couch, stretching. "Don't act so coy with me!" He grumbled before picking you up swiftly. He rolled you over on your stomach and you decided to comply with whatever he was doing. He lifted your hips into the air as you grabbed onto the armrest for support.

He spread your folds and licked up your pussy. You jumped and covered your mouth, the sudden motion catching you off guard. You then hear the leather couch squeak as he goes on his knees. He then smoothly pushes his dick inside you. You moan loudly and grab onto the armrest. This new position made every inch of your desperate cunt more sensitive. He started to thrust into you relentlessly. You moaned out mercilessly, it was like you couldn't stop yourself. Every time he thrusted back into you your voice cracked.

"You like that you little slut?" He grunted as he continued pounding into you. You nodded your head with a whimper. "Hm? I couldn't hear you, use your words baby," he smirked. 5 seconds ago he was whimpering beneath you but bow he was in charge of you.

"Y-Yes!" You shouted into the empty living room.

"Anytime you think about running back to that dick head remember this hey?" He snickered before pulling your hair back. You whimpered with a little nod. "How deep inside you I am, how I just abuse your little pussy," he groaned before letting go of your hair, drawing his attention to your hips. Grabbing them to move you up and down his length even faster.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm c-close," you stammer out as you claw at the couch.

"Your not gonna cum until I tell you," he cooes in his velvet voice that makes your legs shake. At this point he's pounding your G-spot so hard it's moving the couch. You don't know how much longer you can handle this denial and degradation. Tears poke at your eyes, your hair a mess in your face but you're too distracted by his cock buried inside you to care.

"Can I cum!? Please!" You whine breathlessly. Jiung stays silent before finally replying.

"Cum now," he says raspily. He continues to thrust rhythmically as you cum which causes you to squirt all over the couch. You moan loudly before biting your lip. This rush tips Jiung over the edge as well, his cum fills you up as your body shakes. He pulls out of you carefully and you lose all strength in your body. You lay down on the couch and Jiung lays on top of you, hugging you. "Did you just?" He asks in a soft voice. You nod your head.

"Sorry about the mess," you flutter your eyes shut and rest your head down.

"No, no, don't worry about it," he says as he pats your head. He kisses your head and plays with your hair. Jiung looks at the strawberries on the table. He reaches for the package and opens it up. He picks out a strawberry. "Open~" he hums as he holds in above your mouth.

#p1harmony #p1harmony smut #p1h jiung #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony imagines #choi jiung #p1harmony jiung #jiung #p1harmony fluff #requests #request #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #fanfic

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redsquidface · 19 days

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When informed about your transfer off planet, you were not worried at first. After all, it was a normal practice for The United Earth as a means of cultural exchange with other interstellar civilizations. But then you discovered that you'd be sent to a remote space station, as far away from Earth as possible. When you arrived, you found out that none of that station's inhabitants were humans. Your translator couldn't even fully understand some dialects and accents.

The first time you visited the food court, you were stunned by the variety and foreignness of the presented food. There were kitchens from all across the galaxy, but none familiar to you.

One of the stands caught your gaze. Mostly because some of the dishes on display were still wiggling and squeaking. Despite everything being overspiced and slimy, it was your best option. For a minute, you braced yourself and prepared to order, but then you noticed a dusty replicator standing in a corner. You have used these machines before and knew that they could create human food or you could teach them how to. Postponing the probe of the alien cuisine, you rushed to the machine, eager to taste the familiar.

The chef of the kiosk, whom you left in a hurry, followed you with the gaze of their red eyes and angrily growled. Their warrior culture saw every aspect of their lives as a battlefield. War, love, sword fighting, sewing, engeniring, cooking - all were competitive and passionate. The fact that you eyed their dishes and not only chose not to buy anything, but rushed away was interpreted as personal defeat of the cook and an insult to their honor. The large alien gracefully hopped over a glass counter and followed after you, furious but collected.

By this time, you had alredy uploaded a human food pack into a replicator, ordered a burger, and paid for it. When the machine dispensed your order, somone quickly took it away. Without wasting a second, alien chef threw your burger into their wide opened maw and began to chew.

"Plane. Too plane. Do you really trade this over my perfectly spiced food?"

"H-hey! I've paid for this!"

"And I will refund your money at my stand tenfold. My food is much better than this replicated crap."

Indeed, the taste of replicated food was always a bit off, but you ware not in a mood for squirmy food. You also weren't eager to argue this day.

"No thanks, I don't like living food."

You pretend to ignore the angry alien and ordered a plate of spaghetti from the replicator. But this portion was also devoured, even with a paper plate. The chef was stubborn and refused to let go of a customer.

As the alien chef was staring you down, you began to get angry. Suddenly, an insidious idea slipped into your mind. You ordered again. This time, it was a big, ripe lemon. Suppressing a giggle, you watched as the rude chef sent the yellow fruit into their mouth and began to loudly chew. As the red eye opened wide and the alien grunted, covering their mouth, you began to regret your little revenge. What if lemon was poisonous for that species? What if the alien is now pissed off even more and will try to kill you?

But when the chef looked at you, in their red eyes were no traces of rage or vengefulness, but only curiosity.

"Do you humans eat this?"

"Yes."

"Really? "

"Yes, but doses are usually smaller."

"And there I thought that your spicies were fragile."

After that remark, you felt obliged to brag. For the next half hour, you were talking about hot papers, acidic pineapples, and poisonous fish dishes, while the alien chef was cooking food for you at their stand, sometimes interrupting you with questions and remarks. They seemed to be at awe of human culinary habits. The chef prepared your dish with extra care, making sure that seasoning is not too intence and all ingredients are dead and fried.

After the chef handed you the finished food you were so hungry that you began to eat without hesitation. Surprisingly, the taste was good.

When you finished eating, you thanked the chef for the food. Approvingly nodding at the site of a clean plate, they said that it was repaiment only for their first theft and invited you in this kiosk again. The alien promised that the next time their menu will include new ingredients from the Earth.

As you both said your goodbyes, you and the alien chef parted ways. You both made a new friend today.

#alien #short story #humans are space orcs #well not really #scifi #scifi story #i wrote that at 5 am

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acphengene · 2 months

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Chapter 26 - Dining room table

₊ ⁺ pairing: Jay x fem!reader

₊ ⁺ genre: brothers bestfriend!au, college!au, neighbors/strangers to lovers!au

₊ ⁺ warings: smut, fingering, voyerism, dirty talk, use of good girl, reader is afab

₊ ⁺ synopsis: you move from sydney australia to seoul to get your degree, what will happen when you spill coffee on a handsome stranger?

₊ ⁺ taglist: open - updates every monday and friday - might update on other times if i want a chapter out sooner rather than later

₊ ⁺ note: it's finally here! Please let me know what you think of the smut, its not something I'm used to writing, which is also why it have taken so long to get published.

₊ ⁺ word count: 4120

₊ ⁺ masterlist

You were seated in the restaurant, leg bouncing off the ground as you bit your bottom lip. You were nervous, something you weren’t used to being around Jake.

He had always been the one to have your back, even though the two of you grew up on different continents, he always had your back. That was until that night, where it all came crashing down.

You’d never expected him to react like that, to lash out at you. It had broken you to an extent you never thought possible, it had highlighted every insecurity you’d ever had. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was what he really thought of you.

You knew Jay had explained your past to him, but had that been enough to change his mind? He had apologized, but had he meant it? The anxiety had been eating you up from the inside out.

Deep in thought you didn’t see him as he entered the small restaurant. He was as nervous, if not more nervous than you. He had hurt the one person he loved more than anyone else.

Whereas you wanted nothing more than to forgive him, all he could think about was how he could show you that he deserved that forgiveness.

“Hey” he said with a small voice as to not startle you. You looked up, tears already threatening to spill.

He had spotted you the second he entered the restaurant, and he had never seen you seem so small. You’d always been a force to be reckoned with, but this? He felt how his stomach twisted by the mere thought that he was the reason for it.

“Hey” you answered, voice shaking.

You were glad you had requested a booth in the far end of the restaurant. It was hiding you from prying eyes.

Jake sighed as he sat down. “Come here” he said as he opened his arms up. A sob escaped your throat, and you had quickly thrown yourself into his arms. He rubbed his hands up and down your back as you sobbed silently into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry” he kept repeating like a mantra he was determined to teach you.

It had been hard, you wanted to be strong for Jay and Sunghoon, and you knew the men would have your head if they knew you’d kept your emotions hidden from them, but you didn’t want to burden anyone. Least of all them with everything they’d gone through had been because of you.

“Sit down lil’ Sim, and let’s get you some wine to calm down that head of yours, yeah?” He ruffled your hair the same way he had done when you were a little girl, it earned him a laugh as you tried to wipe away your tears with your napkin.

Jake didn’t speak, he just held your hand until the waiter brought over a bottle, and as soon as he had gotten a glass of his own he chugged it.

“Easy there” you said as you sipped on the red liquid, a small smile on your lips. But he noticed instantly how it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Red wine was somewhat of a tradition for the two of you, whenever you’d talked about your childhood, you had always done so while sharing a bottle or three. So it only seemed fitting that was what you were drinking.

You had both hoped you could meet in a more private setting, but because of your recent move that hadn’t been possible.

He ran his hands up and down his thighs. “Sorry, I’m just… nervous I guess” he said and you nodded in response.

“I really am sorry Y/N. If I’d ever known…” He began.

You held up your hand. “Stop that, okay? I chose not to tell you for this exact reason, I knew you’d blame yourself” You said, your eyes as kind as they’d always been. Leaving him feeling even more guilty.

“I talked to mom” he said. Confusing you a little by the statement. “Well talked might be the wrong word. But I texted her, so I guess I’m gonna cut her off too” he shrugged.

“You don’t have to do that Jake, I know what she means to you” you said, but you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his loyalty to you.

He shrugged with a small smile on his lips, eyes as gentle as ever. “I know I don’t have to, but honestly I should’ve done it a long time ago. I should’ve kicked and screamed before letting her take me away from you. I should’ve insisted on staying behind, so that I could shield you from his schemes”

He squeezed your hand a little.

“I mean it Y/N” his gaze was firm, almost cold. “I should’ve stayed behind with you, I was your best friend, your big brother, I should’ve know you wouldn’t wanna stay behind”

“It’s okay” you said with a small smile, this time squeezing his hand. Gaze locked on your fingers, you feared meeting his eyes. Afraid of them spilling the truth behind your words. Yes, you should have …

“It’s not, and I’ll do my best to earn your forgiveness” he bent his upper body, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Okay?” he said as his grip tightened around your fingers.

You just shook your head as to get the lingering thoughts of your father, your time alone with him, out of your mind. “I want to apologize too,” you said, voice small.

“Sis you have nothing to apologize for…” His voice sounded almost disappointed.

“I do… The second I started catching feelings for Jay I should’ve sat you down, then this whole thing could’ve been avoided.”

He nodded. “That's true. But I think I at least needed it to happen like this. I know he can protect you now, I know he’s willing to risk everything to be with you… Even me” A small smile crept onto his lips, you saw how he looked down at his glass as he blinked furiously, desperate to get the tears that were now held in his eyes to disappear.

“Don’t say that” you said, voice almost a whisper.

He sighed. “It’s true though… I’m not saying it to be spiteful, and I’m not jealous, well I am but not like that. He deserves love as pure as the one you provide, just like you deserve love that I’m sure he gives you. And love like that should be allowed to come first, it should always come first”

His voice was stern, but it was in a loving manner, he meant every word he said, you had no doubt about it.

“Thank you” you didn’t know what else to say in respons.

“Or I assume you love eachother, right?” He said, as he raised his brows, wiggling them. It earned him a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s love,” you said as a blush spread on your cheeks.

“Good” he took another sip of his second glass of wine. “Oh did Jay tell you that mom wants me to break the two of you up?” he said.

Your brows furrowed. “Why?”

He shrugged again. “I have no idea, but she was very passionate about it”

A whirlwind of red was now to be seen in your glass as you groaned. “This isn’t over yet, is it?”

He pulled you close before he kissed the top of your head, resting his cheek there afterwards. “No, I don’t think it is… Dad still need to find out we went against his direct orders”

A dry laugh escaped you. “Don’t remind me” you looked over the menu, weighing your food options as the two of you sat close to one another.

“Do you think he’ll be as mad as the time we played in the mud while at that, what was it? Flower event thing, in Sydney?”

A laugh escaped you as you were suddenly reminded of you and Jake, 6 & 8 years old, bored out of your mind at some event your mother hosted and had insisted you join. You had at one point decided that the best way to pass the time would be to jump and throw mud at one another. In your pretty dress, in your pretty shoes, in Jake's first fitted suit.

“He was as red as a tomato!” You almost couldn’t breathe as you remembered your fathers face as you strolled through the white hall of the building who laid on the grounds, soiling it with your dirty shoe prints.

Luckily for the two of you, the babysitter had whisked you away before your fathers wrath had hit, and she had been replaced the next day.

Jake smiled. A genuine, happy smile. And in that second, you knew you’d be okay.

The two of you spend your meal and most of the night sharing memories of your childhood, laughing and crying, but only the good kind. And somehow you left the dinner, closer to one another than you had ever been.

_____________

Jay had texted you after about an hour into your dinner, the texts were somewhat cryptic, not making a whole lot of sense. That was until that one message.

I wanna bury my head between your thighs.

The Uber ride back to the apartment had you bouncing one of your legs once again, but this time it was in excitement. You couldn’t help the biting of your lips or the fiddeling of your fingers. You were nervous. He made you nervous.

You could feel how blood rushed into your cheeks by the mere thought of it. Is this really happening?

You were no virgin, but the dating scene in Sydney was something else completely than that in Seoul. Much more conservative, so you didn’t wanna just jump into bed with Jay in case he’d be uncomfortable.

The two of you had taken everything so painfully slow that your vibrator had been working over time when he wasn’t home. And you knew that he was as desperate as you were. His showers had gotten longer, colder, and the thought of him touching himself to the thought of you was enough to make you squeeze your legs together to get some sort of relief.

You took a deep breath before you pressed the code to the door, finally letting you see the man of your dreams.

The room was dark, only candle light, lighting him up. He couldn’t help but smile at you. You looked so pretty. Long coat, bare legs, little skirt. You were leaving so little to the imagination, and he absolutely adored you for it.

As soon as you’d dropped the jacket, and tried to remove your stilettos he was right by your side.

“Don’t.” He whispered as his cold hand came in contact with your warm cheek. “Keep them on” he said, eyes locked on your lips before he kissed you.

He was needy, his tongue was instantly asking for permission to enter your mouth, as your hands got lost in his locks, pulling the roots, leaving groans to escape his mouth in between kisses.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“Such a tease, huh?” He said as his hands finally traveled down the back of your thighs, urging you to jump into his arms.

“You have no idea” you said, kissing his nose before you did exactly that.

His hands were big, holding you up by grabbing your thighs, fingertips teasing your bare skin. He walked you over to the kitchen counter, sitting you down on the cold marble, earning him a choked moan as your skin came into contact with the stone.

He smiled at you. Mouth finally traveling from your lips to your neck. Nibbling and kissing your skin on the way.

He always knew you would sound pretty, but the moans leaving you at this moment were enough to make him lightheaded. Dizzy. Drunk on you.

“The boys aren’t here, so I want you to be loud for me. Can you do that darling?” His voice was in his lower register, and it lit a fire under you, desperately wanting to do whatever he asked of you. So you nodded, violently.

He couldn’t help but smile at your enthusiasm. “Good girl” he praised as his hands slid up your back, pulling your top from your torso, leaving you in your small lace bra. Nippels perky when suddenly exposed to the cold.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered into your neck, before his hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

Your mouth fell open as he pressed himself into your core, earning you both a loud moan.

“I love you” you whispered in between kisses and grinds.

“I love you too” he whispered back, as he kissed your neck, down your chest, cupping one of your breasts, teasing your nipple with two of his fingers. He smirked at your reaction, as his pupils dilated even more.

He held you close to him, hands caressing your hips as he kissed from the top of your breasts down your stomach.

He then quickly picked you up from the kitchen counter, the sheer height of it making what he had planned impossible.

You couldn’t help but smile as he threw you around without a care in the world or any kind of struggle. It turned you on, him being as strong as he was.

Before you knew it he had placed you on the dining room table. “What a fitting first meal” he said before kneeling in front of you. His hands caressed your calves as he kissed the inside of your thighs, urging you to spread your legs for him.

“Let me help you out of those” he whispered, eyes trying to look up under your skirt to catch a glimpse of just how wet all the teasing would’ve made you. His hands snaked up underneath your skirt, pulling the useless piece of fabric that was your panties from his most prized possession.

He then moved your skirt up around your hips finally revealing you to him. The way he was staring down your dripping core, you couldn’t help but feel self conscious and tried to close your legs in front of him.

“Don’t.” he said as he spread your legs out in front of him. He couldn’t help the low curse escaping his lips.

“You’re so pretty darling. Look at you, all wet and clenching around nothing, so fucking eager for me to touch you” he licked his lips, eyes never leaving your dripping core.

He helped your legs over his shoulders, the back of your knees now resting on them. He steadied himself between them, giving the flesh a little squeeze. “Are you ready?” he said, waiting for the smallest indication of consent before he would lose himself in you.

It felt like he had been starving his entire life, all of it leading up to this. You let out a whiny please, just before he starts kissing up between your thighs as his grip tightened on them.

You feel how your breathing became heavier, as he got closer to where you needed him most. He’s so dangerously close you can feel his hot breath on you, but he doesn’t put his mouth on you yet.

“God you’re beautiful” he says as he looks up at you with blown pupils, almost drooling at the sight of you so close. If you had your phone on hand, you would’ve snapped a picture of him, he has never been more beautiful or pussy drunk than in this exact second, and it makes your whole body tingle with anticipation.

Before you knew it he dived in, tongue slowly licking circles on your clit. Your eyes close, as your body reacts instinctively to the sudden feeling of him. Your head falls back as your hands instantly find their resting place in his hair. It earns you a low hum from the depths of his chest, sending vibrations through your whole body.

“God you taste so good darling, I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner” he says as he comes up for air before diving back in.

His hands pull you closer to his face, forcing you to lay back on the giant dining room table, arching your back as his tongue starts to drift up and down between your folds, slowly teasing your aching hole.

“Please Jay” you moan out, as his tongue comes in contact with it. He stops and looks up from his hiding place between your legs. The loss of contact with his mouth making you whine in need.

“Are you needy, huh? Need to be filled?” he says as if his voice has been dipped in honey.

“Please” you just repeat as you lay your head back down on the table, expecting him to begin again. But to your dismay, he doesn’t.

“Use your words like the good girl you are darling, no need to be rude now” he says before he tsk’s at your manners.

Jay had always been respectful with good manners, and the fact that he brought that with him into the bedroom, somehow made him even hotter.

“I need you to use your fingers Jay, just give me your fingers?” You asked as you finally looked at him with pleading eyes.

“As you wish” he said before removing one of his hands from your thigh, before putting two fingers into his mouth to wet them. You moaned before he even touched you, the mere sight of him being enough to send waves of pleasure through your body.

“You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he said, an open question he didn’t expect you to answer.

His wet fingers slid up and down between your folds, collecting as much wetness as they possibly could before he entered your hole with one finger.

“God you’re so tight and warm darling, I can't wait to bury myself inside of you” he said in a sinister tone before he once again latched on to your clit while he curled his finger inside of you. Earning him a loud moan.

“Can you take one more finger? Need you to get used to the stretch if I’m ever gonna fit” he states as you whine out yes's before he adds another finger.

“Fuck you’re taking them so well, you’re being so good darling, so fucking good for me” he says between his low moans as he pumps his digits in and out of you as you come undone on the table.

You can feel the build up in your lower stomachs, and he feels it too, how you tighten around him with every push of his finger, with every brush of your clit or touch of your g-spot.

The two of you are so lost in each other you don’t hear the door being opened, so lost that you don’t even sense the entering of your roommates.

The two of you stop for a second as you hear the sudden sound of bags hitting the floor.

“That table is for eating?!” You hear Jungwon scream out.

Jay quickly removes his head from your core, drying his mouth on his t-shirt's shoulder as he pulls down your skirt to hide your body. Jay was smirking, he was kind of happy he hadn’t pulled your bra off with his teeth now, as it at least covered some of you.

He looks at you with a sinister sparkle in his eyes.

Jungwon quickly turns around to give you your privacy. But Sunghoon just shakes his head at his best friends as he can do nothing but smile at him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he’s doing,” he says with a small laugh.

“If you don’t wanna watch my girl come all over my face I suggest you leave now, because I’m diving back in, in like 5 seconds” Jay says as he finally looks at the two guys, sending his best friend a smirk as he lift a hand with glistening fingers, as he starts counting down-

Sunghoon rolls his eyes as he grabs Jungwon by the neck to pull him away from the obscene scene that is splayed out in front of them.

As the door shuts to one of their rooms, Jay stands up between your legs, and starts to draw circles on your clit with one hand, as the other once again start pumping in and out of your heat.

“You like that darling? Like that I’m showing them who you belong to? Like that people know I’m the only one who's gonna make you feel like this?”

He says it all in between kisses of your stomachs and boobs, before he bites down on your bra and pulls you up in a sitting position. Finally allowing you to grind on to him.

“Answer me darling” he whispers into your mouth. The circles of your clit growing sloppy, which somehow just makes him hit the right spot.

“Yes, I love it. Want everyone to know I’m yours” you almost cry out.

“I’m glad, thank you for not lying. My darling likes being caught, huh?”

He adds a third finger, stretching you out so perfectly it makes you wonder how big Jay is if he needs to get you used to this.

“God you’re squeezing me so tight, fuck!” He says as he looks down on his fingers as they get painted with your fluids.

“Can I come Seong? Please? Please let me come” you whine out as you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

“What have I ever done to deserve you? Such a good girl asking me for permission and everything… yes darling, come for me”

As he finishes his sentence you grab onto his shoulders as you kiss him hard. Rocking yourself on his fingers, chasing your high, and when you reach it he looks at you as he moans out.

His hair clings a little to his forehead. Pupils still blown, as he smiles at you with both need and adoration.

And as your breathing is steadying, he pulls himself from your core, right before he shoves his fingers into his mouth, cleaning every single one of them as he holds eye contact with you.

“Park Jongseong, you’re fucking amazing” you say between breaths.

He kisses your forehead. “So are you”

You laugh a little as you look down expecting to see a massive tent in his pants, the lack of it worrying you a little.

He picks up on your somewhat disappointed expression quickly. “Don’t worry, seeing you in that much pleasure is more than enough” he says as he pulls you closer to him, helping your skirt to cover you up once more.

“Do you mean…?” You ask with big eyes.

“Yes darling, the taste of you is enough to make me cum” he smirks.

“Fuck” you whisper out before you lay back pulling him with you. He’s suddenly laying on top of you on the table, kissing you as you’re trying desperately to get him out of his clothes.

“No, nope, no no no!” You suddenly hear as a door shuts with a loud bang in the other end of the apartment.

“Eating her out is one thing, but you’re not fucking on the dining room table!” Jungwon yells as he comes right at the two of you, forcing you to stop the moment you were both riled up again.

“A little help?” Jay says as he looks towards his best friend.

“If you don’t wanna be watched or interrupted, don’t fuck your girl in public places” Sunghoon says with a grin as he leans against the doorframe.

You laugh as you hide your face in your hands.

“It’s a little too late to be embarrassed!” Jungwon groans as he buries his face in the couch pillows.

“Oh she definitely has nothing to be embarrassed about” Jay says as he looks at you with a loving smile, all the while he pulls a strand of hair from your face.

He kisses your lips so tenderly you’ve never felt anything like it.

“I love you” you once again whisper to him.

“Come darling, let’s get you cleaned up” He picks you up bridal style and carries you to your room.

“I’m totally gonna regret moving in with those two aren’t I?” Jungwon asks as he finally looks up from the pillows.

Sunghoon plops down next to him before he turns on the tv. “Well if you think this is bad, just be grateful you aren’t living with Jake, he’s a lot worse. Like a lot!” he says laughing, before Jungwon screams down into a pillow.

₊ ⁺ Taglist: @addictedtohobi @deobitifull @blackhairandbangs @eclipse-777 @luvnicho @aerivrs

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heyiwrotesomethings · 10 months

Note

yor x femaler reader. friends to lovers

so yor is on an undercover mission on ball?and is almost caught by the bodyguards of the target when she is dragged into an alley way,after being chased, by reader and she keeps her quiet before a gunshot is heard near them and they are found.

Things happen and yor is knocked out and bound in a ware house were they try to interrogate her.

KEY WORD: try

Reader goes and commits h0moc!d3

Ballroom Blitz

Yor Briar x She/Her Reader

A/N: I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I was unsure how to best carry it out so I tried to make it a little easier for myself. I can promise you that Reader does commit homicide though! For added fun, I thought about the song The Ballroom Blitz by Sweet while writing this, so if anyone wants to give that a listen, feel free. Thanks for reading! Word Count: ~1,465

“The target is in the back of the room in the burgundy suit, see him?” (Y/n) murmured into the minuscule communications device tucked snuggly in her ear. She hid the movement of her lips behind the champagne flute in her hand.

“Yes, I see him.” She heard Yor reply.

(Y/n)’s eyes drifted to the opposite corner of the busy room to find Yor navigating between the dancing couples in her signature black dress.

“Use caution, those men around him are trained bodyguards.”

“What would I ever do without your help (Y/n), thank you.”

(Y/n) could hear the genuine gratitude in Yor’s voice and smiled behind the lip of her champagne flute.

“Any time, partner.”

(Y/n) stood vigil in her corner and watched Yor slowly make her way through the dancing and chatting aristocrats, politely denying any offers to dance along the way. She briefly turned her eyes back on the man in the back of the ballroom. Well, it was supposed to be brief, but looking at the man, she saw how nervous he looked as he nursed another glass of wine. A red rather than a white this time around, he must have finished off the previous bottle on his own. No one would think anything was amiss if he suddenly toppled over once Yor slipped the poison into his never-ending drink.

Yet his nervous behavior concerned (Y/n). Was he expecting something to go wrong for him tonight? Had someone tipped him off?

(Y/n) saw movement at the target’s left and peered over at the well-dressed, snooty looking woman stiffly walking over with a large binder in her hands. On closer inspection, (Y/n) noticed it was the guest book and silently cursed as the woman hung over the target’s shoulder and pointed out Yor from the crowd.

“Yor, we’ve been compromised. Retreat and regroup—“

“Everyone attack!” The man shrilled over the fanciful classical music that filled the ballroom, jabbing a desperate finger in Yor’s direction as he practically crawled over the woman with the guest book to run away with his hands raised to the sky.

The bodyguards and even more men who had been disguised as waitstaff leapt into action and began lunging and shooting at Yor, flinging the ballroom into chaos.

“Shit—” (Y/n) pulled her gun free from its hiding place and aimed it at the ceiling, firing off a single shot. “Everyone who doesn’t have a stake in this fight, get down!”

Most of the people fell to the ground in an array of screams and shouts before they began scuttling away like cockroaches. How undignified. For some reason the small orchestra was still playing though, and for that (Y/n) had to give props. That, and they seemed to switch to something more energetic to match the hectic scene.

“(Y/n), go after the target!” Yor yelled into her mic, making (Y/n) wince, “I’ll hold them off here.”

(Y/n) wanted to disagree, but they really didn’t have another choice. If their target got away, then that wiggly little mole would never be seen again.

“Don’t die on me, Briar!” (Y/n) warned, dodging a bodyguard’s punch before elbowing him hard in the stomach and sending him to the ground with the bridge of his nose crushed into his skull.

Yor sent her a wink from the other side of the ballroom as she sliced another man’s jugular open while dodging a spray of bullets. It was strangely artistic, almost like a dance with the music still playing, a very bloody, violent dance.

But now wasn’t the time for (Y/n) to ogle her best friend, she had a cowardly little mole to catch up with.

She disposed of a few more bodyguards on the way out of the ballroom and kicked the double doors open, catching sight of the target as he scrambled around the corner. She ran after him and the ballroom’s double doors swung shut with a heavy thud, muffling the music and gunfire within.

After littering the halls with a few more bodies, she had cornered the target. She almost felt bad for the man sniveling and cowering beneath the elegantly carved mahogany table and red velvet table cloth, an expensive antique vase smashed against the ground and scattered around him in his hurry to hide underneath.

“Please, don’t kill me! I’ll pay you triple what you’re being paid!” He pleaded, eyes red from crying.

“Afraid I can’t do that, sir. This is the risk you run when you deal in selling sensitive information,” (Y/n) reloaded her gun and took aim, “No amount of money can save you when you piss off all the wrong people.”

She ended it with one shot, putting the man out of his misery quickly and only taking the time to check that he was truly dead before rushing back down the maze of hallways back to the ballroom to assist Yor in anyway she could.

“Yor, I eliminated the target. Retreat.” (Y/n) spoke through the communicator. She waited a few moments, but heard no reply, “Yor, respond… Yor? Shit.”

(Y/n) picked up the pace, becoming more worried the closer she got without word from Yor. She couldn’t hear the orchestra anymore, they must have wised-up and split. She slammed the doors open and her eyes were immediately drawn to the middle of the room where Yor was struggling beneath a mob of bodyguards while one stood in front of the dog pile, breathing heavily.

They all looked in pretty bad shape, Yor had given them hell, but they had overpowered her with their numbers and the one left standing was fumbling with his gun, spilling bullets onto the floor as he hurriedly tried to reload while his comrades yelled at him to work faster while trying to keep Yor down.

(Y/n) trained her gun on the man, “Drop it!” She warned.

But the man only tried to load it faster, earning him one of (Y/n)’s own bullets.

“(Y/n)!” Yor called out.

She looked happy enough to see her, but the weight of the people on top of her made her voice sound strained and (Y/n) could already see a bruise forming on her cheek and that made her furious. The time for offering warnings was over, now they had to pay.

(Y/n) fired off the last of her bullets to take out a good portion of the pile before running up on them and striking another man with the barrel of her gun with incredible speed and accuracy. It was then that the rest of the dog pile caught up with what was happening and tried to retaliate by fighting back or putting more pressure on Yor, but (Y/n) was swift in painting the ballroom floors with their blood. So swift in fact, that she hadn’t realized she had moved at all, the only thing waking her from her trance of violence was Yor’s hug.

“(Y/n), it’s over! You did it!” She beamed.

“I… did it. I did it—!“ (Y/n) cupped Yor’s face in her bloody hands, “Are you okay? What am I saying, of course you aren’t, you’re all bruised and scratched up!”

Yor didn’t seem bothered by (Y/n)’s bloodied hands at all. In fact, she cupped her own hands over them to press them even closer to her face.

“I’m okay,” she assured chipperly, “you don’t need to worry so much!”

“I love you, so of course I’m going to worry if you’re hurt! No matter how superficial the wound—“ (Y/n) stopped abruptly, had she really just said that out loud? Looking at Yor’s expression, she definitely did.

In the past, she had let a few things slip that she had later fretted over, a few actions too, but Yor was mercifully oblivious. However, (Y/n) had never flat out told her she loved her before! Even Yor couldn’t be that oblivious, not while they stood so close together with their fingers threaded together against her cheeks.

“I- I mean—“

“I love you too!” Yor blurted passionately despite how flustered she appeared, “I was worried about you going after the target alone, and when we get separate assignments I get really worried too! I can’t go to sleep until I hear you enter the apartment.”

“You too?!”

“Yeah!”

They heard the sound of someone’s throat clearing and they leapt into defensive stances until they realized it was the orchestra organizing themselves back into position. The conductor led the orchestra into the first few notes of a song before craning their head back to give the women an encouraging nod. An unflappable bunch of musicians to say the least.

“Want to dance?” (Y/n) asked.

Yor’s eyes shimmered and she nodded excitedly, bringing (Y/n)’s hands to her waist before eagerly bringing her arms around her neck as the music began to pick up.

#spy family oneshot #spy family x reader #yor x reader #yor briar x reader #yor forger x reader #spy x family oneshot #spy x family x reader #requests #anonymous

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dj-bynum3718 · 1 year

Text

Newbie

Melissa Schemmenti X Reader

Summary: Melissa finds out that the reader is Italian also.

Words: 604

Notes: this is my first go at a fic, but it’s been bouncing in my head for a couple of days.so it is short and sweet I might continue if y’all think this is any good

Warings: none

You have been a teacher at Abbot Elementary since the beginning of this school year, a new 1st grade teacher. You were a first-year teacher after finishing up your student teaching at another district the previous year and after a long search you ended up hired here, the students were your run of the mill kiddos no harder than any other kids and you loved your class. Your coworkers, however, ... anything but especially a certain elusive red head. From day one Melissa made it clear to you that she had no interest in “baby sitting” so you simply kept to yourself eating at one of the couches instead and taking over the coffee table to grade occasionally.

This afternoon, however, was different when Janine called out to you. “And what about you (y/n)?” “Wait what was the question?” you ask clearly not used to being part of the conversation. “See this is what I'm talking about these new teachers don’t take this seriously” Melissa speaks to the whole room while making direct eye contact with yourself.

“I’d hardly consider that fair Ms. Schemmenti, I wasn’t a part of this conversation previously how was I supposed to know that I needed to listen in” she rolls her eyes at you as Janine tries again. “I was asking how your class was handling the family tree projects” you nod in response “great I've reached out to the parents to get ahold of pictures for their posters. The kids are all excited! Are any of you going to be making a poster as well?”

“Oh yes my students were very insistent on me participating” Barbara responds to you as the rest simply nod in response. “Well, I look forward to seeing all of your trees” you say gathering all your belongings heading back to your classroom for the second half of your day.

---

It wasn’t until all the posters were finished and put up along the hallways outside of the respective classrooms that Melissa came into the staff room addressing you first.

“You’re Italian?” you look up from where you were grading in your normal spot. “yes?” you respond not seeing the issue. “why didn’t you say anything?” you look up at her deadpan “You didn’t ask” looking back down to finish your grading. She huffs out “but your last name is (L/N)!” she is clearly distraught by this, but you don’t look up this time simply nodding your head.

By this time Babra is snickering at her friend. You have a smirk on your face now looking up over your glasses, “would it have changed anything if I did tell you? If I remember correctly you didn’t want anything to do with me when I got here.” “yes, it would have changed a lot!” she moves her bag come sit with us it's about time I have someone to back me up on some things” she chuckles you hesitate before deciding you have nothing to lose as you sit with them. “Fine but just for today.”

It was in fact not just for that day and became a regular occurrence, especially when she realized just how pleasant your company was and just how much of an old soul you were. That began a beautiful friendship that none of the others quite understood but it made sense to the two of you and that is what mattered.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #wlw fiction #lisa ann walter

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aylish91 · 8 months

Text

Nagamob/Nagamafiatale ; )

Realizations

This was all those Snake bastards' fault. You should have never agreed to take on this delivery. You could have been relatively safe back at the Den or with the S.F. Brothers, but no! You thought you could handle this job in order to win back your freedom. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. Difficult, maybe. Dangerous, no. A simple and straightforward drop-off. Navigate through the northern district of the downtown area without being mugged or stopped and give the package to someone by the name of Dacio.

Easy!

And yet here you were...

Waiting just inside the loading bay of the old Wetherford’s Brick Factory, you had thought Dacio was just taking his time showing up. It was a common problem with people who chose to pick up in these types of areas. So naturally, when a black car with tinted windows showed up, you assumed it was him.

You were only half right.

You should have run the moment more than just Dacio stepped out of the car. You should have run faster when, after dodging being grabbed, several more vehicles cut off your escape. Now you were stuck, forced on your knees while a group of hostile suits surrounded you. Each one sporting the same silver pin on their left pocket.

A mongoose devouring a snake…

The approaching crunch of loose concrete and brick had your heart clenching.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the little Rocket!” A man with handsome blond hair and green eyes grinned down at you, Dacio not too far behind looking smug. “People used to pay a lot of money to use your service. Quite quick on your feet. It was a mistake making yourself the Snake’s personal pet. A real shame.” His grin turned sinister as he knelt on your level. “You would have been untouchable if you’d have stayed neutral.” Patting your cheek, he took the package from your now loose grip.

Sharp bitter feelings of betrayal swirled around in your guts. You hadn’t planned to be pulled into all of this mess. You didn’t start doing courier work to transport illegal wares or shady packages and it was not by choice that you ended up among the Snakes. You thought there was a need in the city for your work. With the rise of inflation and rent, you simply needed the extra cash. You never would have thought it would cause you to be kidnapped by the mafia!

That made the blond bastard’s words sting that much more. You were never truly going to be free after this job, were you? Not with a target painted on your back. Were you even meant to make it out of this alive at all?

You forced yourself to look away. Blondie gave an amused huff at your defeated look, standing to investigate the box. It was blessedly quiet while he cut it open.

A click.

“Bomb!!!”

It was impressive how fast he was able to throw it.

The box barely landed before exploding, causing your ears to ring and spots to cloud your sight. The man behind you yelped along with everyone else, pulling you up from the floor towards the general location of the car.

Disoriented and terrified, you fought. The more you struggled, the tighter the bruising grip on your arm became until you found yourself slammed against the side of one of the cars. It was at this point that your vision finally started to clear enough to notice the new bunch swarming in.

Snakes blocked the truck entrances into the factory, shooting several of your captors and scattering more further into the building. Don Red could be seen giving orders, cackling through a crazed grin behind walls of bone and magic.

The blond-haired man crouched behind the car next to your pinned form, carefully taking shots as others joined beside him. Cursing, he grabbed another man's gun out of his hands, pushing him out of the way to continue shooting.

“Idiots! Start the car! They won’t be able to shoot through the glass!”

Everyone shuffled as they followed the command, someone sliding through to the driver’s side while others piled in the back. You only fought harder once the pressure on your back loosened, smashing the back of your head into the nose of the man holding you. A few yards away, you felt the familiar push of heavy hands tackle you to the concrete floor.

Your head hit hard enough to stun you, the flash of a gun and the growled threats barely registering to your hazy mind. Movement high above seemed far more tolerable to watch as you tried to regain yourself.

You wanted to laugh.

Wrapped around the old scaffolding at the very top of the building, was the massive iridescent form of a sleek black and scarlet naga monster. It was satisfying watching them expertly glide down and under the walkway to hang from old supports. Then, with the glint of a self-satisfied smirk, its red eyelights flashed.

They dropped, sharpened bones forming to fall with them.

You were lucky you had managed to get yourself away from the car. The Massive coils of the naga weighed heavily against the car they landed on, partially crushing down the top. Anyone not already inside was not only assaulted by the angry naga, but also the falling bone attacks.

The man on top of you didn’t stand a chance. Attempting to flee, he was promptly grabbed by the sharp claws of a large skeletal hand before getting unceremoniously bitten and tossed.

You were probably going into some sort of shock from all the excitement and possible concussion. Remaining on the ground, you didn’t feel the need to run from being scooped up, staring up instead into the scarred socket and fire-like eyelights.

“RED!!! I’VE SECURED THE TARGETS. TAKE YOUR LITTLE HUMAN SO THE REST OF US CAN TAKE OUT THE TRA–”

His body jerked with a snarled hiss, rearing up and swiveling. Hanging part way out of a now open and cracked window was the blond. Judging by the useless pressing of his finger on the trigger, his ammunition was gone.

Your neck prickled.

“PATHETIC WORM!”

With one smooth motion, you were dropped amongst the safety of agitated coils as the naga lunged. You could hear pained yelps and garbled choking from your place between the rolling scales. As the wrestling subsided, the Don slithered to stand next to his brother, the gunfire blessedly silent.

Thick red smoke exhaled around the butt of a cigar. “Ya ight? Yer bleed’n.”

The coils tightened.

“SHUT UP, I’M FINE. I CAN’T SAY THE SAME FOR MY PATIENCE. NEXT TIME YOU AND SANS MAKE ANOTHER RIDICULOUS PLAN LIKE THIS, KEEP ME OUT OF IT. I DON’T APPRECIATE BEING PUT ON CLEANUP. MORE SO WHEN THERE ARE DISTRACTIONS.”

Red chuckled, carefully extracting you from being squeezed. “Didn’t see ya complain’n when ya got ta rain hell from above like some hero ‘n shit. Yer just cranky ya got yerself stung.”

The hellfire lights blazing in his brother’s sockets had Red backing up, his firm grip holding you to his chest. You were still too in shock to care.

“GET OUT BEFORE I KILL YOU MYSELF! I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO TAKE CARE OF.” With a shake to the choking blond, he turned to direct the Snakes in extracting the survivors within the car.

Another chuckle rumbled through Red’s chest, a downright lecherous grin pointedly sent your way as he spoke. “Don’t mind if we do. Heh. Time ta head home, Dollface.”

…

There really wasn’t any form of freedom outside of the Den, was there?

…

Something wasn’t adding up.

Grand Master Post Mafia Master List

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cuprohastes · 8 months

Text

The Black Market

Space is big. I mean... really big. Like even bigger than a really big rock.

And boring.

But sometimes you get an encounter...

Boring is the worst part.

You can go into space and there's all sorts of cool stuff like the microgravity, the amazing view... and after a while it's just dark and the computer goes 'Boop' every quarter time unit, and this amazing experience collapses into the same space as e.g., being in a nursing home until someone tells you that you've arrived, and you can go look at cool stuff again.

Hence Interstellar Cruise Liners.

Space travel is still not cheap - even a run up and down a space elevator needs paying for, so you want to take as much cargo and paying passengers as possible.

With automated shipyards, you can just pour money and resources into building a truly huge passenger module, stack it on top of some cargo modules and clamp on as many drive units and crew modules as you need.

Load everyone in, let them ooh and ahhh at the view for a day then spin up a gateway and fire the whole thing into superluminal space and drop it out around any world you have a beacon for.

The really great thing is even if you lose the beacon in transit, you are a beacon. Just drop out and wait. Anything goes wrong, the home office can send a rescue ship after you.

In the meantime, there's the ship's amenities: The lush mossy jungle deck, the galactic beach, the games rooms, the dining groves, the on-board university - Even the theatre for live and recorded entertainment.

Still passengers like to have an experience, and so the Sunward Sail out of Ggxcha with seven hundred passengers dropped out of Superluminal space, the bow wave of exotic particles heating the backstop up to a glowing red.

The Sunward Sail dropped into a lazy orbit around an ancient planet, orbited by a big station trailing glittering wreckage - Obviously something dramatic had gone down here.

The lights were on though - So not a derelict station - and the docking was smooth, so the first set of tourists stepped onto the station, onto the Market deck.

So much to see! So much to do!

Madam Shi-shi's bakery run by a happy Tsin selling classic Tsin pastries, and exotic purple rolls with various filling and other goods.

The Top n' Charmed Quarks Bar with the scarred Atrix obviously a veteran of some war or calamity, serving exotic and colourful drinks:

"Dare you try the Human Menu?" she suggests, pulling it out. "Watch out, the Temple of Shir-li is banned in twelve systems..."

They even have a chance wheel!

Then there's Honest Gar's Genuine Human Antiquities, the wares spilling out from the shop in a riot of colours and patinas, where one can buy a genuine antique reproduction Victorian Empire TV, or a genuine Human Made Brown's Kitchen Imp that can tell you how to make a thousand and five human style recipes with a little sheet glass projection hologram of a human in glasses and red horns. So quaint!

And if you get to the end of the market, or one of the traders tips you off, you can find...

The Black Market

There's someone there, a weathered old... unless they were young... spacer, in a patched and scuffed EVA undersuit with 43 on the chest, who'll spin you unbelievable tales for a couple of creds dropped into the old cracked space helmet he keeps on the table next to him and if you ask, he'll let you in -

The back rooms are dark, rowdy, and full of the coolest stuff. There are lots of humans here, and there's an Atrix little guy, with a set of goggles, riding low on the belly of this Atrix Mech.

If you're lucky you can see one of the humans with some grudge square off agianst the little guy. He's surrounded by switches and levers, with a little pair of waldos.

The mech lurches to life, an angry display on its faceplace, growling in a rattling synthetic voice:

Combat mode! Engaged! Polaron Claws. Charging.

It's claws glowing white hot as it swings into motion, and the Human pulls a little cobbled together blaster out and takes a pot shot. The Mech lurches and sparks, warning lights flashing ominously...

Reactor. Overheat. Reactor. Overheat. Emergency. Venting.

The stricken mecha whirls, the little guy screaming in rage and flipping clunky archaic controls... And then when everything seems to be about to go wrong, the mech begins to spray clouds of vapour from it's vents and the alerts wind down, while the scurrilous human takes the opportunity to flee.

It's very dramatic.

And after that you can buy a souvenir arm patch of Cat Fantastic's Mecha with glow in the dark Polaron claws, before it's time to head back - Don't forget to pick up a packed lunch from Madame Shi-Shi's!

"Ugh." said Dave, "I don't mind the tourist run but it ruins my appetite" she muttered.

"You shouldn't snack on your own stock." says Big Ma, touching up Gondy's makeup.

Phalanges, helmet off, chin up and enjoying the cool air blower form the converted life support rig that they'd modded into the mecha grunts noncommittally.

"How are we doing boss?" Raxy asks, potting up souvenir Tsin fungus with Atrix moss and human basil.

O'Patel flashes an OK hand sign. "We are... hitting the funding goals. One more shift - This time it's for the bonus pay." he says with satisfaction and Big Ma looks around, checking everyone's ready as someone helps Cat Fantastic back into his cockpit basket and Gondy makes sure there's enough grenadine left.

"OK people... Showtime!"

#station stories #dave the human #phalanges mittens #cat fantastic #humans being weird little guys #atrix #tsin #humans are space orcs

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the-lonelybarricade · 1 year

Text

As the River Flows - (7/8)

Summary: As Feyre lamented quietly over the misfortune of her life, there, in the marketplace, she heard a merchant instruct to its patron: Place a butterfly wing under your tongue before you sleep, and you will dream of your true love.

A gift for @sideralwriting 💕

Read on AO3・Previous Chapter・Series Masterlist

Magic always comes at a cost.

Feyre couldn’t count how many times she had heard that warning from her governess. From Nesta. Sometimes, even from Elain.

She supposed the evidence of their warnings now laid on her skin in permanent ink, binding her to the man who stood just over her shoulder. Magic did come at a cost. And that cost, apparently, was three copper coins.

“What does it do?” She asked the shopkeeper, staring at the glossy surface of a translucent sphere. It shaped perfectly to her palm, small enough that she could close both hands around it. No larger than a ripe apple.

“It allows you to share memories,” the shopkeeper answered.

Feyre raised the orb higher, watching it catch and twist the sunlight, throwing a multitude of colors against the cloth drapes of the stall. When Feyre turned, she could see the reflection cast on Rhysand’s cheek. Red and blue and green. And sparkling violet, staring at her with open delight.

She quickly flitted her attention back to the shopkeep and the velvet-clad table of magical wares. On one end, there was a jar with several thin sticks of wood, wafting a thick, fragrant smoke. Smoke—but no fire. She wanted to ask if that was magic, too, but held her tongue. It was enough to take a deep breath, inhale the scent of rose and jasmine that she wished she could bottle and take with her when they left.

Oh, how she never wanted to leave.

“How does it work?”

The shopkeeper shared a grin over Feyre’s shoulder, at Rhysand, who was undoubtedly preening at Feyre’s enthusiasm. The elderly woman held out a wrinkled hand, adorned with rings and bangles and sharp plum painted nails.

Feyre placed the orb delicately into the shopkeeper's palm, watching with fascination as the glass emitted a soft, misty glow. Like a deep fog was trapped beneath the surface, and someone had lit a lantern from within its center. She swore smoke lifted from the orb and as she stared, images began taking shape. A man and a woman, undetailed at first, but then she could make out the blue-black hair and winning smile of her husband. And spinning in his arms, eyes sparkling with unfettered joy, was… herself.

“You made quite the handsome pair, on that stage,” the shopkeeper said.

Had she really looked that… happy? Feyre blinked, staring at that laughing girl, hardly recognizing herself. The image faded, drifting back into shapeless clouded glass. And the orb was just an orb again.

“Focus on a memory,” the woman said, handing the sphere back to Feyre. “The veritas will show it to you.”

“Does it have a cost?”

“Three copper pieces.”

“No,” Feyre said, a bit bashful. “I mean the magic. Is there a consequence to using it?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “Some memories are better left unvisited. You would be surprised how many people become trapped in their pasts.”

An arm stretched over her shoulder, and the proximity of Rhysand’s body warmed Feyre’s back, making her feel again as breathless as she had felt dancing on the stage. Perhaps she still had yet to recover from the exertion.

He dropped three copper pieces into the shopkeeper's hand, murmuring behind her, “We’ll take the veritas.”

Rhysand had been doing that all day. Indulging every whim, whether Feyre asked him to or not. It was how she’d earned herself a sugar covered apple and a cup of spiced rum and now, a magical orb that could revisit any memory.

As they wandered out of the women's draped stall, Feyre wondered how many times she’d revisit this one. Her cheeks bloomed from the contrast of the sudden cold. It had been warm in the shop—through magic, Feyre was certain, since aside from the thick fabric of the tent, there was nothing in the shop that could have fought off the winter air.

“Is it time to go?” She asked, solemnly.

Rhysand had been making passing glances at the sun, and at the carriage parked on the other end of the market. She supposed they had wasted most of the morning; the sun was at its peak.

“We could stay here another night,” he suggested.

Delaying their arrival to the Northern Kingdom was a tempting offer. But it also added another day to their journey—another night at an inn, a far more intimate setting than a palace where she imagined they would stay in separate rooms.

She mulled that over, before shaking her head. “We can go.”

“There are plenty of markets like this in the North,” he said, reaching for her hand. She let him take it, surprisingly compliant in allowing him to raise her gloved fingers to his lips. That was becoming a habit of his.

Their eyes met. She again seized the opportunity to relish the sight of him in the daylight. There was more blue in his eyes. They were so much darker at night.

“I’ll take you to all of them,” he promised.

Feyre couldn’t imagine a prince and princess roaming around the street markets in a place they would be recognized. His words were simply a condolence, a means of coaxing her back into the carriage. She was tempted to tell him her older sisters used to play the same trick on her. But perhaps it was to her benefit that he thought her naive.

And maybe the little girl who climbed to the treetops, risking injury and more importantly, her smart clothes, just so she could peer over the manor walls to see what laid beyond—maybe that girl wanted to believe he was telling the truth, despite every rational reason she had to believe otherwise.

Feyre breathed, “Are they all like this?”

She thought she could see the memory behind his smile. The veritas hummed in her hand like it could sense it, like it wanted her to place it in his palm so it could shape the images in his mind. Feyre was tempted, if only for the opportunity to reveal what he kept beneath his mask. She wanted to measure the light and darkness that warred inside of him, to know which side won, and how closely it mirrored her own.

“In essence,” Rhysand said, elbow looping through her own to guide Feyre through the crowd of bellowing merchants. He murmured at her ear, “Though you’ll find some are more exceptional than others. Ones that are held in jeweled caverns, obscured beneath waterfalls. Some, even, are held at the bottom of lakes.”

Feyre scowled at him, “Don’t make fun.”

“I’m not.”

He said it off-handedly, more concerned with turning to pluck a flower from a passing wagon piled with red and purple asters. The merchant’s back was to the prince, calling to the market that he was selling the flowers for one copper a bunch.

“And I’m supposed to trust a thief?” Feyre asked, raising a brow at her husband. Rhysand ignored the accusation in favor of sliding the aster stem into a notch of her braid.

“Hold on to that,” he said. “Asters are a key ingredient for most love potions.”

“And praytell, what use do I have for a love potion?”

“As you said, there aren’t many butterflies in the North.”

It was remarkable to Feyre how easy it was to suddenly lose her footing on the ice, especially when Rhysand said things that made her chest feel little more than a wooden cupboard he’d pried open, exposing her heart to the cold elements and his careful scrutiny.

Did he know, then? That her true love had visited in her sleep? The stone wall around her mind was still in place, but he could have simply guessed. In all of his charm and sweet whisperings, she’d nearly forgotten how he’d attempted to deceive her at the ball by pretending he was her true love.

The rumours are true, that you have eyes like stars. They are the most beautiful color I have ever seen.

He’d known about it then, and even in their argument that morning he’d attempted to assume his identity.

You presume I’m not your true love?

He wasn’t. He had known the phrase because he’d plucked it from her mind. Tamlin had known without magic, though Tamlin had also arrived empty handed, where Rhysand had brought a necklace laden with blue gemstones, just as her true love had promised.

Feyre’s head spun. What on earth was she thinking? She had met her true love just last night and he had been utterly distraught at their circumstances. Why would Rhysand have reacted that way? He’d gotten what he wanted.

It was evident by the curve of his mouth as he caught a stray strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger, whispering, “Perhaps if you get tired of longing for your true love, you can learn to love your husband instead.”

And there—confirmation from the liar himself. His violet eyes flickered to the flower in her hair and Feyre resisted the urge to pull out its stem and throw it to the ground.

A stolen aster for a stolen bride.

“Let’s get in the carriage,” she said, mood now soured despite the lovely time she’d had at the market.

Rhsyand sighed, clearing sensing the shift. He led her away regardless, the two of them dodging shouting vendors and aimless shoppers.

Molten chocolate—two for a copper.

Come see the spectacular Koschei juggle six daggers!

Newlyweds, having trouble sleeping? I can brew a special potion—

—break any spell or bargain.

Feyre grinded to a halt, cocking her head towards the hunched man sitting at an empty table. There were no trinkets, or any signs, but he grinned when he saw Feyre. A serpent's smile.

“Bound by bargain or law?” He asked. “I can only assist with one.”

“You can break a bargain?” Feyre asked.

They were just on the outskirts of the market, within seeing distance of the carriage. Rhysand pulled at her arm, urging. “You can’t. He’s trying to swindle you.”

“An interesting accusation, given you have just lied, and I have yet to make a single promise—false or otherwise.” The man’s beady eyes turned to Feyre. He crooned, “Yes, madam. Bargains can be broken. But doing so requires powerful magic.”

“Feyre,” Rhsyand said. Not a warning, but a plea.

“What kind of magic?”

The man leaned forward, eyes sparkling in a way that caused the hairs on her arms to stand on edge. He turned his head like an owl, before licking his lips and answering, “That will depend on the bargain in question. A small debt is more easily broken. How has this man bound you?”

Feyre glanced over her shoulder at Rhysand, studying the way he held himself still. He was staring at her, not the man, his expression so guarded she couldn’t say if it was anger or fear that held the tension in his back.

She held his gaze as she answered the man, “an eternity of obedience.”

The vendor laughed, an awful wheezing sound that stretched long enough to transcend into mockery. “What a foolish thing to promise.”

Her cheeks burned. Rhsyand touched her arm like he was intending to comfort her, but his jaw was clenched tight, and the anger burning his eyes was far from consoling.

Feyre forced her pride to heel, turning herself to the man still laughing at her expense.

“Can it be broken?”

“Not by any spell I can offer you.”

“But it can be broken?”

The man gazed over her shoulder, at Rhysand, and smirked. “Yes.”

It was clear he wasn’t going to provide any more information. Not for free, and clearly nothing that he believed would be helpful to her. Feyre huffed, pulling her arm out of Rhysand’s grasp to shuffle the rest of the way to the carriage. She would have stomped, if she wasn’t afraid of slipping on the ice. Rhysand trailed after her, maintaining the quiet in what she suspected was his own ire—but was it directed at her, or the shopkeeper?

He opened the carriage door for her, regardless, and she climbed in without looking at him, arms crossed over her chest. Rhysand said something to the footman before stepping in across from her, and the carriage jolted forward. Onwards to the North, once again.

She could feel him staring. But Feyre was still sifting through all her thoughts, trying to reconcile these different, confusing fractals of her husband. A liar and a thief and a prince who was gentle and cruel and manipulative and devoted. Which pieces were real? They couldn’t all be, could they?

“Feyre—“

“Do you know how to break the bargain?”

Rhysand slumped forward, running his hands through his thick, frost-dampened hair.

“As one of the five questions—“

“Feyre.”

“—do you know how to break the bargain?”

“You only have two questions left.”

She gritted her teeth. “Answer it.”

“Yes.”

Feyre exhaled, waiting for more. But that was all Rhysand would say. His lips were pressed tight, his brows bunched together.

“Tell me how,” she demanded hotly.

His golden brown skin had been flushed from the cold, but now she watched it drain of color. “That would be another question.”

Feyre shrieked, wanting to throw something at him and, having nothing besides the veritas, she lobbed it at his head.

He caught it between two hands, lips twitching to hide a smile that only kindled more of her rage. “This would be your final question, do you still want me to answer?”

“Tell me every possible way,” she amended, learning her lesson. “I want to know precisely what I must do to break the bargain.”

Rhysand sighed, staring at the veritas like he hoped it might transport him away from the carriage, towards a memory that did not involve angry wives who shouted and threw things in his direction. She quietly felt smug that the veritas could do nothing more than show Rhysand his own dastardly reflection.

“There are two ways,” he said, finally. “The first is to see the bargain through to its terms. Since each of our bargains is a lifelong commitment, I’m afraid you would need to see it through to your death. The second way is to break the bargain’s spell by using a more powerful magic. The only thing more powerful than a lifelong bargain is…”

Rhysand swallowed like he was trying to push down the truth as it rose in his throat, but the magic forced it to his lips, until he practically spat the words: “A kiss from your true love.”

Feyre’s heart sunk into her stomach.

It’s rumored that true love’s kiss is the most powerful magic in existence.

Her true love had said that, hadn’t he? But… he had kissed her last night, and the bargain remained. Did they need to kiss with the intention of breaking the spell? Perhaps it had not worked because they had kissed inside a dream.

“I don’t need to be in your mind to see what you’re thinking,” Rhysand said. “And I’ll remind you that regardless of bargains, you are my wife. No magic will change that.”

Feyre stared out the window, not wanting to let him see how much that thought deflated her. She knew he was right. He had already told her that if she ran, he would stop at nothing to find her again. Knowing the bargain could be broken changed very little, especially if true love’s kiss didn’t work in her dreams.

The silence between them stretched, becoming a heavy, tangible thing. She could hear Rhysand shift, felt his legs—so much longer and more constrained in the small space—bump hers. He was trying to get her to look, and Feyre refused.

Until she saw something shining in the window’s reflection. Then, she turned to find Rhysand cupping the veritas in his large hands. He was looking at her, and she wished she didn’t notice the way his face lit up at her attention. The soft glow of the veritas left two silver disks shining around his pupils, and the contrast with the violet made his eyes look impossibly wider, more childlike than she’d ever seen him, but still filled with mischief.

“Can I show you something?”

Feyre hesitated. He was leaning toward her conspiratorially, and the smile he wore offered no hint of the man who had warned her, just a mere moment ago, that she was to be his reluctant bride for life. Was this his attempt at smoothing things over?

He leaned his broad shoulders forward to extend the orb into the space between them. It was humming—no, roaring. Feyre jumped as a spray of white mist burst out of its surface, crashing over her.

“It won’t hurt you,” he said, gently. “It’s just a memory.”

Indeed, the mist was intangible and brushed straight through her, then retreated, folding back into a pool of rock and water just beneath the vantage point. Then, a dark wave rose in the distance, curling at the top before it, too, crashed against the rocks, its momentum more violent, causing the white-tipped water to shoot towards the sky.

Feyre reached out a hand, trying to feel it. “What is this?”

She recognized the soft call of birds, nearly drowned out by the sound of the powerful push and pull of water. She could guess what it was.

“The ocean,” Rhys said, his eyes shining.

“It’s…” she frowned. “It seems so dangerous.”

And it was louder than she imagined.

“It can be,” he murmured. “But it can be gentle, too.”

The vision shifted, and Feyre could see a smooth, beige beach where foamy water rushed to the shore like a playful lover, clinging to the blushing sand, reluctant to return to the sea, but always rushing back. She could see the low light of sundown, reflected not just against the water, but on the wet, polished sand, gilding everything in sight in bright orange and gold. And if she shut her eyes, she swore she could feel a warm breeze tangling in her hair.

“It can be warm in the North,” he said. “I used to take my little sister to the beach in the summers. The water stays cool, even with the sun shining against it all day long.”

Feyre studied the surface of the glistening water, awed and fascinated that something so majestic could truly be real. “What’s it like?” she whispered. “Swimming in the ocean?”

“It’s wonderful,” Rhysand said.

And then the image rippled, like they’d dived beneath the surface. The sound of the lapping tide immediately muted, replaced with the soft, lulling sound of bubbling air, rushing to the shining surface above. But below… Below was deep, beautiful blue water, crowded with schools of colorful fish and the most curious rocks Feyre had ever seen. She hadn’t known there were plants that could live underwater, but she could see their long vines swaying leisurely to-and-fro as striped fish darted by. The backs of her eyes stung. Feyre raised a hand to cover her mouth, uncertain why she was crying, just—that it was so beautiful. So tranquil and vibrant, flush with a diversity of life that Feyre had never even imagined, could never fully describe, it was so outside of her exposure to the world.

“I’ll take you there,” Rhysand promised softly. He offered her one of those rare, sweet smiles. Devoid of any mockery or pride. He said, “You’d need to let me teach you how to swim, first.”

Feyre fought a sob, but it came anyway, bursting out at her first attempt at speaking when she asked, “Is it hard?”

“No,” he soothed. “You’ll love it.”

Bashful, Feyre sniffed and brushed away her tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Rhysand shifted the orb to one hand so he could reach forward to cup her face, chasing away the tears he could reach with his thumb. “There is a great, beautiful world that has been waiting for you, Feyre, and I intend to show you all of it.”

She should have pulled away. She was angry at him, wasn’t she? Feyre grabbed his wrist and instead of pushing, she tugged him across the carriage until he was seated beside her.

“Show me more,” she said. “Show me the North.”

He made a quiet noise, something she interpreted as compliance though it sounded more as though he’d been punched in the stomach. But when Feyre turned her head to gauge his expression, he was wearing his usual sideways smile, nothing more than pleased she’d taken an interest in his kingdom.

Feyre nearly asked for him to forget it, not wanting to offer him the satisfaction, before the image changed again and she could see a city nestled between ocean and mountain and sprawling river. They flew past boats and piers, past homes and streets and theaters. Past a colorful plaza teaming with stalls and restaurants and artwork. People wandered about, happy and thoughtful, kind and welcoming, and they waved to the memory’s observer—to Rhysand, their Prince. Waved, not bowed.

“This is Velaris,” Rhysand said. A note of warmth in his voice, one that wasn’t entirely foreign. “This is the heart of the North, the city that you will call home.”

Moment after moment, images of marketplaces and townhomes and the glistening river that ran through it all. And though Feyre could not explain how, she could have sworn there was love in the images. She did not understand how the veritas conveyed it, but the colors, the light… They were rooted in something deeper, something linked to Rhysand and his memories.

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, still waiting for the sight of the castle and walls that would contain her.

But they never came. Instead he showed her a townhouse and a palace carved into a mountain and he walked her through each section of the city, and she realized, with every passing citizen who greeted him by name, that the walls wouldn’t come. Her eyes began to sting again. And even though she fought the tears, Rhysand must have noticed, because he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she didn’t stop him. He was warm, and he smelled like she imagined the ocean might. Salt and danger and freedom.

“Do you want me to keep going?” He asked.

She would never admit it, but she tilted her head to move closer, so she could let his scent soothe and steady her. When she nodded, Rhysand swept his cape over her shoulder, settling into a position they both knew they would stay in for the indefinite remainder of the carriage ride. Her head fell against his shoulder, and she could feel the quiet exhale of his breath at her temple. She could hear his pulse, and she nearly joked that she was surprised he had one at all. But somehow, through the combination of his warmth and his scent and that ever-beating metronome, Feyre drifted to sleep in her husband’s arms, while his memories of their kingdom continued playing.

She woke to darkness.

Feyre sat up in bed, waiting for the sound of strolling footsteps.

They didn’t come, and slowly she pushed through the disorienting haze of sleep to realize a hearth was crackling in the corner of the room, and she could still see its light.

She wasn’t dreaming, then.

The lighting was dim, but slowly her eyes adjusted until she could make out the details of the inn’s bedroom. She didn’t remember leaving the carriage, which surely meant her husband must have carried her in. Thankfully, she was still wearing the elegant navy dress she had put on that morning.

Slipping quietly out of bed, Feyre measured each footstep against the old wooden floorboards, unaware if Rhysand was a light or heavy sleeper. He again had chosen to occupy an armchair in front of the hearth.

Feyre reminded herself, sternly, that it was not charming he’d decided not to share a bed with her when she was not awake to protest otherwise. But… it’s what other men would have done. He was a prince, and it was the second night in a row he’d claimed the armchair without complaint, without her asking. It was a little charming.

It was the least she could do not to wake him up now as she searched for a nightgown. He’d placed their trunks in the window bay across the room, and Feyre was able to easily find a silken negligee at the top of the folded clothes—short and delicate and pink and certainly not one that she had packed for herself. With a sigh, Feyre threw the fabric aside and began digging for something more suitable. She pushed past the heavy cloaks and dresses, searching for the unmistakable feeling of silk.

While she searched, her hand brushed against something thin and solid, which made a crinkling sound beneath her fingers. Parchment. She froze, head swiveling over her shoulder to see if Rhysand had overheard, but he remained still. Holding her breath, Feyre carefully pulled the parchment from beneath the heavy piles of clothes—buried so deep he had clearly been trying to hide it.

Thinking perhaps she had finally unburied one of his secrets, Feyre eagerly held the paper to the moonlight. The moonlight, which was always honest with her. It was hard to read the black ink in the dim lighting, but as Feyre pulled the crumpled parchment close to her face, she immediately recognized her own handwriting.

My dear rake,

At first, her mind couldn’t truly make sense of what she was reading. Had he found the letters she had kept from her true love? But—no. This letter hadn’t received a reply.

Perhaps this will be the last letter I ever send you.

Feyre dropped the parchment back into the trunk, trying to make sense of this. Had he… had he been intercepting their letters? Is that how he’d known about the identifying phrase, and the gift, and—and when to intercept her, before she made it to the Archeron gate? Had any letter ever reached her true love? Did her true love exist at all? Or was he… was he…

She scrambled to rearrange the trunk to its original state, burying the letter and her fears beneath the heavy piles of cloth. With shaking hands, she tore at the eyelets on her back, leaving her bodice and skirts as a heap on the floor before shrugging into the indecent nightgown.

Rhysand stirred as she walked past, but he didn’t wake. Which was just as well, because Feyre had no intention of letting him see her in the nightgown—ever. She crawled back into the large bed, still reeling at what she had discovered. At what it could mean.

Feyre only knew one thing for certain: she needed to trap a butterfly.

#Feysand #Feysand fic #Feysand fanfic #Feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre #AtRF #As the River Flows

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niqhtlord01 · 10 months

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Humans are weird: Humans are weird: Privateers for Hire: Part 2

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord ) The doors to the command center opened and the final member of central command walked through.

“Hemlock Grieve, you are late.”

Grieve bowed towards the speaker. “My humble apologies; my shuttle was caught in an ion storm that forced us into standby mode until it passed.”

Viceroy Cartage listened to Grieve’s explanation but said nothing. As the silence drifted on the Viceroy eventually nodded as if accepting the reason and motioned the Hemlock to take his seat.

Gathered at the table were seven of the twelve Hemlock’s of the Hash’tu Conglomerate; each one overseeing large swathes of territory with full authority over both civilian and military assets within the borders of their territory. The remaining five Hemlock’s were either in the midst of the day to day running’s of the Conglomerate or were continuing the war effort with the humans. Regardless, the seven present were enough for what Cartage had to say.

As Grieve took his seat Cartage activated the holographic projector at the center of the table. The lights surrounding the room went dim as the projector came to life showing a map of the Hash’tu Conglomerate. Cartage pointed to a rash of red icons that appeared along the border territories and slowly crept inwards like a crack in glass.

“I have gathered you all here to address the recent increase in attacks on our shipping routes.” Cartage began. “At first these attacks were limited to isolated merchant vessels and convoys, but now they have escalated to attacks on military assets enroute to the front lines.”

“With respect Viceroy,” one of the Hemlock’s spoke up, “even with these attacks we have only seen minor reductions in both material and profits.”

“Oh?” The Viceroy casually entered in several keys and a portion of the frontline increased in magnification for the hologram. “So the thirteenth column was not forced to halt their advance due to fuel shortages?”

“Well-“the Hemlock began but the Viceroy cut him off as he continued. A new section of the front line highlighted itself for the hologram showing several human and Hash’tu fleets.

“And do you mean to tell me that your own war fleets were forced to retreat from Federation forces as they lacked sufficient numbers after you dispatched several vessels to escort convoys?”

The Hemlock who had spoken up looked awkwardly at the table and said nothing.

“In the grand scheme of things Hemlock Gro you would be correct that isolated acts of sabotage are beneath our notice,” the Viceroy continued as the hologram expanded outward again, “but they have been left unchecked for too long and now have grown from an annoyance to a threat; and we do not tolerate threats to our plans.”

“Are we entirely sure that these attacks are related to the war with the Cosmic Federation?” Hemlock Grieve spoke up. “It is true that several vessels were carrying supplies to the war front, but from the reports I have read the majority have been against our merchant fleets conducting business.”

He pointed to a cluster of red icons far separated by several systems to the war front with the Federation. “These here for instance were against vessels hauling nothing more than exotic silks and expensive wares to the inner core worlds.”

“And your point?” the Viceroy inquired.

Grieve shrugged. “These attacks, while a hindrance to our war, may be nothing more than pirates seeing an opportunity to strike us while we are distracted for profits.”

The Viceroy frowned at Grieve as if he was stating the obvious. “Once again you all are missing the point.” He berated the gathering collectively. “These attacks must stop, regardless of who is carrying them out; and that is what we are here to discuss.”

Each Hemlock sat in silence as they collected their thoughts. Their positions were in jeopardy should they speak next without a clear answer to the problem at hand.

“We may be able to lessen the risk by reducing the number of convoy runs we make.” Hemlock Marklin pitched. “If we condense the smaller fleets into one or two larger fleets we allow ourselves concentrate our escort capacity.”

“That would mean further slowdowns along the front lines.” Go added begrudgingly. “But Marklin is correct that with such defenses protecting the merchants these pirates would be foolish to attack.”

As the Viceroy was about to speak he was cut off by several sirens blaring out in the room; red lights descending from the ceiling showering the room in warning lights.

Annoyed the Viceroy opened the communication line built into the desk and contacted the station master. “What is happening?” the Viceroy demanded.

“Apologies Viceroy,” the station master replied nervously over the comms, “but we have just received a communication from a nearby merchant ship that they are under attack by unknown ships.”

“Impossible!” Hemlock Marklin all but shouted. “We are in core space above a military garrison world; who would be stupid enough to strike here?!”

“Show me.” The Viceroy commanded, ignoring the outburst of Hemlock Marklin.

The hologram changed to reflect the system they were in now, highlighting the grade five station orbiting Dirithy Prime. There were long trains of blue icons showing the standard trade lanes in and out of the system. It took only a moment to find the one merchant ship under attack. It was approaching the station between the trade lanes while at least three red icons were right behind it.

“How did they get past our sensor grid?” the Viceroy asked as he observed the situation.

“The pirates hid in the trade lanes and snuck through the sensors.” The station master replied, his communication filled with background voices. “We’ve already dispatched patrol ships to intercept the attackers.”

“What is that ship carrying?” Hemlock Grieve interjected.

“Excuse me?” The station master sounded confused over the question given the miniature war unfolding just outside his station.

“These attackers are not stupid, what is on that merchant ship?” Grieve asked again.

“We must save our ship first!” Marklin cut in before the station master could reply. To their surprise it was the Viceroy that spoke next.

“Hemlock Grieve is correct; these attackers would not attack so deep into our territory unless the prize was worth the risk.”

“One moment while I verify.” The line went silent as the station master left to speak with one of his staff. “The ship is the Radiant Star and is carrying twelve kilotons of spice grain.”

“Spice grain?”

Perplexed the Viceroy clasped his hands as the contact icons drew closer to the station.

“The Radiant Star is requesting docking permissions.” The station master announced. “They’re under heavy fire and need the station shields for protection.”

“Let them in and train all station guns on the attackers.” Hemlock Gro ordered. “We’ll wipe them out in one fell swoop.”

“It just doesn’t make sense.” Grieve said softly as he watched the shields surrounding the station lower as the merchant ship came in. No sooner had the Radiant Star passed under the shields did Grieve notice that the enemy ships had suddenly broken off….and that the Radiant Star had not slowed down.

“Oh no…..” -------------------

‘Not too close Mr. Fig.” Captain Amelia laughed as an energy burst nearly tore through one of the engines of the Radiant Star. “That ship was a pain to capture intact and we want this little piggy to come home.”

The Predatorian grumbled and had the firing crews adjust their aim. She knew this cat and mouse game they played was beneath Mr. Fig, but the prize they were after required such subterfuge.

“If we don’t at least graze them they won’t believe this.” Mr. Fig said as another barrage from their guns missed their target. “Hash’tu are mindful, not stupid.”

From her command throne Captain Amelia could not help but understand his reasoning. Three pirate ships chasing down a lone merchant and not landing a single hit? Even she would not take those odds.

“Have the next shot take out their communications relay.” Amelia reluctantly obliged. She turned to her third in command who was buried deep into his terminal.

“Mr. Tipples, send off a request for docking with the station; making it sound urgent with a hint of desperation.”

“Aye, aye; captain.”

The tiny alien quickly sent a coded message via his remote control terminal which was then relayed through the Radiant Star to the station. No sooner had the message had been sent did the next volley indeed disable the ships communications relay.

“You could have waited for me to confirm the message was sent.” Mr. Tipples snarked at a smirking Mr. Fig. Before the situation devolved into another shouting match between the two pirates Amelia cut in.

“All ships break off and get ready for the fireworks.”

With her command all three of the pirate ships broke away from their attack as the station cannons finally lined up and began firing at them. The Radiant Sun was now within the shields and safely protected from any further attacks from the pirates ships against it or the cargo it was hauling.

All twelve kilotons of military grade explosives…..

Still running at full speed from, the Radiant Star crashed straight into the docks of the Hash’tu space station and set off the deadly cargo it held within.

Captain Amelia watched as the massive explosion ripped the station in half. The hull cracking and tearing as if it was made of paper while secondary explosions dotted across the surface sending additional fireballs into space. Several nearby Hash’tu ships had not even powered up their engines and were caught in the debris cloud from the station adding to the carnage as Captain Amelia watched with delighted glee.

“It was a shite plan to begin with, and I’m still impressed you pulled it off captain.” Mr. Fig said as he walked over to his captain. “Using one of their own ships to sneak in? That’s down right devious.”

“You can thank the Greeks for that, Mr. Fig.” she remarked with a smile as the explosions slowly died down. “They may know jack about an economy, but by the gods did they know how to be sneaky.”

Not knowing how to respond to the captain’s human outbursts many just nodded and chuckled sympathetically.

“Ah, Captain.” Mr. Tipples spoke up to break the mood, “I don’t mean to kill the mood but it appears what’s left of the station is caught in the gravity well of the planet.”

The smile from Amelia’s face faded as Mr. Tipples continued. “We underestimated the force of the explosion would have, and it appears that as a result it was pushed deeper into the well then we first anticipated.”

“And what does that mean?” Mr. Fig replied dismissively. Mr. Tipples took a glance at his monitor again to confirm the readings.

“Within Four hours what is left of the station will impact the planet’s northern continent, with enough force to shatter said continent and trigger devastating natural disasters across the entire planet.”

The bridge was silent. You could hear a bead of sweat running down a face as the crew even stopped breathing at the news. None of them had expected to be the harbingers of planetary destruction when they took on this job. They’d expected one hell of a pay day from the Federation for sacking Hash’tu ships and their space station, but no one had said anything about killing a planet.

“Are you telling me,” Captain Amelia said softly and directly to Mr. Tipples, “that we may have just killed a planet?”

“Not may have, captain,” Mr. Tipples corrected, “we have killed this planet; it’s only a matter of time now.”

Hearing this news the pirate queen sat back in her chair and watched portions of the space station already starting to ignite as they touched the atmosphere.

“We should have asked our Federation friend how much they’d be willing to pay for one of those.” She remarked as the devilish grin returned.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #ai generated art #stable diffusion #space pirates

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ratethisalbum · 17 days

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#80) Uroboros

Dir En Grey

Suggested by: @vapordruid

Spotify ~ Youtube

(Remember to listen first, then rate!)

Tracklist:

1 SA BIR 2 VINUSHKA 3 RED SOIL 4 慟哭と去りぬ (Doukoku to Sarinu) 5 蜷局 (Toguro) 6 GLASS SKIN 7 STUCK MAN 8 冷血なりせば (Reiketsu Nariseba) 9 我、闇とて… (Ware, Yami Tote…) 10 BUGABOO 11 凱歌、沈黙が眠る頃 (Gaika, Chinmoku ga Nemuru Koro) 12 DOZING GREEN 13 INCONVENIENT IDEAL

#rate this album #dir en grey

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carolmunson · 2 years

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perfect penmanship (steddie x reader)

Fill for this prompt: ‘What if reader accidentally found eddies book and saw all of the things he wants to do to her and planned for her when steve was gone for that weekend. She would be on edge every time he was near her and she would get a funny feeling in her tummy anytime he so much looked at her. Eddie probably takes notice and does little things to get her reaction.’ This is an Eddie focused fic with some Steve cause I’m in my Harrington era and takes place the summer before Good Cop x Bad Cop (why am I creating lore???). I took some liberties on this. And also gave our reader a little bit of back story on how she met Steve. Sorry for the wait here, things are kind of all over the place while I get ready to leave for a job. This incredibly long one shot is also a little all over the place, but WHO CARES. I’m tired! Anyway, hope you love it. You can tell I started this fic while I was watching 'The Bear’. warnings: f!reader, MEAN!EDDIE, jealous!eddie, angst, sweet angel steve harrington who is always nice, mentions of a lot of different kinks including kn*feplay and p*ss (but not written out), smacking with a ruler, D/s dyanmics, use of 'daddy’ in sexual context, use of 'master’ in sexual context, p in v sex, degredation, humiliation, smoking, all that jazz oh yeah and if you’re under 18 don’t read my content.

Summer, Hawkins, 1990

Eddie kept himself busy in the kitchen, if there was something he was good at outside of music, it was cooking. Now that Steve was on vacation he could put in a little more effort now that he was just cooking for two.

It was 90 degrees, hot and steamy in the kitchen with pans and pots going on the stove and the oven cranked. Eddie shook a sauté pan, sizzling aromatics, his back muscles outlined by a heather grey t-shirt drenched in sweat. He had his hair tied up on itself in a bun at the nape of his neck. His bangs still fluffing in his eyes, other stray hairs sticking to his face. His cheeks blushed red from the heat outside and the flames on burners.

You walked into the kitchen, looking much less frazzled since you’d spent all day in the air-conditioning upstairs. You wore an old Camp Hawkins t-shirt from when you were a kid. The kind of camp shirt that would be too big for your whole life, that got softer with every wash. You pulled open the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke, letting the chill flow over you, shutting your eyes.

“Hey, hey, close that. I have dough in there,” he called over his shoulder, “Can you grab me the red wine on the counter, sweet thing? It should be open already.”

You look over at him lazily and offer a bored reply, “Yes, chef.”

You put your can on the table, shutting the fridge door lightly (even though you wanted to slam it). The bottle clinked as you pulled it by the neck off the counter, he reached back for it without turning around – pouring the contents into the pan that flared with a quick flame.

“Careful,” you chided, he looked over his shoulder and winked.

“Will you go put this in the recycling?” he asked, now quickly stirring with one hand, the bottle outstretched to you in the other. You plucked it from him by the base.

“Yes, chef,” you said with a smile, washing the bottle out in the sink that was already starting to over flow with mixing bowls and other kitchen ware. This morning it was cakes, tonight it was duck, tomorrow you were sure he’d want to smoke a whole pig. You gently dropped the bottle into the glass recycling (Eddie was very serious about separating cans and bottles) with a little ‘clang!’, going back into the kitchen to grab your abandoned Coke can on the table.

“Can you also go grab one of the big box fans out of me and Steve’s room and bring it down here? I’m sweating buckets, baby,” he said, turning half way at his waist. You blushed as his shirt lifted – the tattoos on his hips peeking out from the tops of his jeans, the bottom ridge of his defined oblique being brushed by the gray fabric – it drove you wild.

“Yes, chef,” you said, walking out of the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said, you turned your head, your brows raising to silently ask ‘hm?’

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he gushed, his boyish grin breaking across his face.

“Thank you, chef,” you grinned back, hurrying up the stairs to grab the fan. You sighed as you got in the room, the fan resting on a splay of books and comics on top of the low makeshift book case Eddie made from an upright shelving unit. The other one was clamped down in the window to let fresh air in. From the looks of it, Eddie had left both of them on last night, letting it them all day – Steve was gonna throw a fit when they got the electric bill this month.

As you go to turn the nob on the fan, it falls on the floor, splaying the books everywhere – papers fanning themselves out across the room. “Shit, shit!” you say to yourself, turning it off and putting it up right, unplugging it from the wall behind the bookcase. You turned around, hurrying to pick up and re-organize the books on the ground. Even if Eddie wouldn’t totally care, you didn’t want to get anything reported back to Steve that wasn’t absolutely glowing. In your efforts, you came across a composition notebook – clearly getting plenty of use, tucked neatly part way under the couch.

The cover was crudely scrawled on in penmanship that could only be Eddie’s: 'Crime :) & Punishment >:(’

You huffed a laugh, and opened the cover, but instead of finding Eddie’s diary, you found the beginnings of a list of things Eddie wanted – from and to do to you:

Tie her up and keep her in the bedroom for free use whenever we want for a few nights, maybe after she’s too handsy on a date or something. (Steve loves this.)

Tie her up the next time I make us dinner and put her on the center of the table and eat her. eat her out. (Update: this went great and she came six times like a fucking whore, fell asleep before she could even try the eclairs I made which was kind of annoying)

She asked for the 'Dungeon Master’ when she came to drop off my dice at Hellfire and I would kill a kid just for her to call me Master in the house on her knees

Slave Leia costume????? (Steve said he won’t be Jabba, I think he’d be great)

Get leather cuffs, the steel ones hurt her even though she won’t say they do.

Bathroom denial? Am I into piss???? Or do I just like to watch her cry and get embarrassed? Might be into piss or watching her piss herself. Steve said no :(

Start ashing my cigs in her mouth when she talks back to me or cusses. Put my cigs out on her thighs. note ^^ Steve said be careful not to trigger her asthma :( but otherwise okay

fake kidnap her when she’s getting out of work and put her in the trunk and fuck her in the woods like a worthless whore. measured steve’s trunk and she wont fit and she’ll know its my van if we use my van :( ^^ update: Steve said no. :(

Make her hold a quarter or a nickel (ridge side) to the wall with the tip of her nose and use the leather strap every time she drops it. (Steve wants to do this ASAP!!!!!)

More rice kneeling, MORE RICE KNEELING

fuck her in those little skirt suits she wear to work fuck her in her skirt suits BEFORE work and mess up her hair and makeup and make her go to work like a used fucking slut after she gets out of line

need more soap for when she runs that stupid pretty mouth

kind of wanna piss in her mouth??? maybe in the shower or something

wanna dress her up as arwen

anal training (update: steve said he doesn’t think she’s ready but what the fuck does he know)

ren faire date, she’d be such a cute bar wench (not inviting steve)

saw her play with my switchblade the other day, why did it make me hard?

do you think she’s start letting me bring knife play into punishments? steve said that’s an accident waiting to happen

“Babe, I need that fan!” you heard him call from the kitchen. Your heart raced, some of these were scary. “Coming!” you called back, quickly tossing the notebook into your desk drawer in the man-cave they commandeered. You grabbed the fan and hurried down stairs, a little out of breath.

“Sorry, chef,” you smiled, “I knocked over some books and I wanted to put them back nicely.”

“That’s thoughtful,” he said, not turning around yet.

“Did I hear something come out of your mouth upstairs that I shouldn’t have?” he asked, stepping away from the oven and leaning against the counter. He tapped a cigarette out of his American Spirit box and held it in his lips, looking at you.

Your heart raced, he was gonna ash in your mouth. Holy fuck he was gonna do this cause Steve wasn’t home. He was gonna– “Baby, answer me,” he said, a huff of impatience slid on his words while he took a drag of his cigarette, “Too hot to wait for you to figure it out.”

“Yeah, but I was just startled,” you said, rounding your eyes into his favorite look, “It won’t happen again.” His heart melted when he looked at you like that, all flushed and nervous. He went to the sink, reaching under the cabinet first and your breath hitched as he pulled out some liquid hand soap.

“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” he hummed, rinsing and then washing his hands in the sink. You tried to make your heart rate slow down. “Everything’s just simmering down here sweet thing, so I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, peeling his t-shirt off to reveal his tattooed chest. His jeans hung low on his hips, the band of his boxers slipping with the slick of his sweat – your mouth filled with spit. You wished he’d bend you over the counter and fuck you right there. “You wanna come with me?” he asked.

’kind of wanna piss in her mouth??? maybe in the shower or something’

“Um! No thank you,” you said, “Plus, Steve said he’d call and I wanted to make sure that–” Ring, ring. Ring, ring. “I’ll take it in your room,” you said, bounding up the stairs past him and closing the door behind you. You eagerly picked up the phone.

“Hi, Harrington residence,” you said with a perfect, clean voice. “Well if it isn’t the prettiest girl I know,” Steve said on the other end of the line. You swooned at the sound of his voice.

“Hi Stevie,” he could hear your smile through the phone, “How’s it going over there?”

“Well my dad got a sunburn so we’ll get to listen to him complain about it for the next three days,” he grumbled, “How are things at home, where’s Ed?”

“He’s in the shower, he’s making us dinner tonight,” you answered.

“Well, that’s sweet.”

“Yeah…I guess. I miss you, though,” you mumbled, fumbling open your desk drawer and taking out Eddie’s notebook.

“I miss you too, babe,” he said, his voice soft and needy, “Spent my whole time here so far thinkin’ about our date night. The boat’s not the same without you. -ugh- Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her. My dad says hi, by the way, if you can’t hear him from over my shoulder.“

Your heart swelled at the memory of his little ‘last day’ stunt before he left for vacation. He made a big show of taking you out shopping the night before, making sure you had a new dress for where he was taking you the before he left. He loved when you got all dolled up for him, but you weren’t his plaything those couple of days. You were you, like you used to be — like old times.

He brought you into town for a nice dinner, like a nice one. The kind of restaurant Eddie wouldn’t be allowed into at a glance. You shared a bottle of wine, you got dessert, he kissed you on the street while you waited for a cab to take you home. And home?

Home was heavenly. The first time in ages he didn’t just bend you over and take you. The first time in a while he said your name while he pushed into you. He held you close and desperately on his lap while you rocked on top of him – it was slow and sensual. He never wanted you to forget it. "Hi, Mr. Harrington,” you called through the phone, “I don’t know if he asked, but could you let your dad know I got all the filing done yesterday. So I just have to go through his messages tomorrow and make some calls.”

“Don’t talk business with me, honey, I’m on vacation,” he whined. It was the only time Steve got grumbly in a boyish way, when you talked about work. It’s how he met you, at a holiday party at his dad’s firm, Mr. Harrington’s fresh new secretary. He didn’t know whether to love you for looking so professional and precious at your desk, or hate you for his dad trusting you more than he ever trusted Steve.

A few months into dating Steve wanted to impress you by bring you to the lake house. He got it together for that weekend and took you out on his daddy’s boat every day because you liked being out on the water. He’d melt every time you’d call him 'Sailor Stevie’ and giggle. But things were different now, and that was okay. You’d make it back to the lake house eventually.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, “Do you have anything fun planned for later? Are they doing fireworks or anything?” “I don’t know, I have to man the grill – wish Ed would fit in with my parents so he could cook instead. We have some family friends coming over so, you know, same old as every summer. Rich people talking about how rich they are,” he said.

“Steve you’re one of the rich people at the party talking about how rich they are,” you teased.

“Baby, I work at Family Video,” he grumbled. “You’re a manager at Family Video,” you corrected, “And you know your dad is proud of you for that. He said that after another year of this you could apply to the fi–” “I’m not working for my fucking dad,” he said shortly.

“Okay, okay,” you soothed, “I’m sorry.” “S'fine, I’m sorry for snapping,” he said, his voice getting a little husky. You couldn’t hear anymore shuffling behind him in the background, everyone must’ve gone outside, “You bein’ a good girl for me at home?”

Your body tingled, your chest feeling heavy, slickness immediately forming between your legs at the question. He could hear you get breathless, a little chuckle comes out of him, “Honey, I asked you a question, are you being good for me?”

The dominance creeping into his voice made you shiver. The shower was still going in the bathroom, it couldn’t hurt if you just…

“Yes, I’m being such a good girl,” you confessed, your hand sneaking past the waist band of your cotton shorts and slipping between your legs. Offering yourself slow and lazy circles over your panties – you didn’t want him to find out you were doing anything you’re not supposed to. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said, “I’ll be home sooner than you think, pretty girl. I’ll take you out again, just us.”

“Just us?” you smiled, a blush forming on your cheeks. You pulled your underwear to the side, the cool air from the fan in the window shocking your body against the slickness. You let a finger glide over your opening up to your clit, stifling a huff of pleasure so Steve wouldn’t catch on. “Yeah, I wanted to take you to the new place dow–” Dial tone. You frowned, your hand snaking out of your panties, “Steve? You there?” “Steve?” you said again, turning around towards the door only to see Eddie standing over your desk. His fingers pressing down hard on the receiver. “You havin’ fun in here?” he asked. Your body went to ice. Even with a towel around his waist, dripping form the shower, he looked menacing.

“No,” you quickly responded, straightening up in the chair. “You know I don’t take kindly to being lied to, sweet thing,” he said, taking the phone from you and hanging it up, “If you were feeling a little pent up, you could’ve just asked. But now that you had to go break the rules…” Guilt swirled in your chest, knowing how this looked to him. Not only were you breaking a pretty hard rule, but it was for Steve. Ed had been seething the whole time Stevie had you out on his arm, while he took you to dinner, while he made love to you in the bed you shared. “C'mon, get up,” he said.

“But I was on the phone,” you said, “Steve was telling me something and he’s gonna think I hung up on him.” “I don’t give a fuck that Steve is gonna think you hung up on him,” he hissed, “Get. Up.”

You did what you were told, following him to the bedroom, asked to kneel at his feet while he got changed. He shook out his hair, showering you in little water droplets that smelled like the shampoo you bought him. “Stay,” he commanded, going back into the other room. You hear something rustle and then, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He stomped back in with the notebook in his hand, “Does this belong to you?” “No, sir,” you said in a soft low voice. “So what is it doing on your desk?” he asked, “I know I didn’t put it there. Did you read it?” Tears welled in your eyes, you nodded, “Y-yes. Just one page, I promise.” Eddie sighed, tapping the corner of the book on the top of the dresser, “You’re really outdoing yourself, here.” “I’m s-s-sorry,” you choked out.

“Don’t cry,” he glowered. A phrase he usually said when he was wrapping you up in his arms after a spanking from Steve, but this was harsh and bitter – biting. “Since this whole thing is about self control, try it out,” he said, “Don’t fucking cry.” You sniffed, your eyes wide at the demand. You took a deep shuddering breath to try to self regulate. “That’s better,” he chided. He pulled you up for your kneeling position and brought you downstairs back into the hot kitchen. “Not in herrrreee,” you whined, “It’s too hot.” He roughly sat you down at the kitchen table, “I still have to finish making dinner for you, in case for you forgot what I’ve been doing all day.” Your heart sunk, you were ruining his whole big gesture – which was honestly Eddie’s favorite thing to do. Always one for theatrics. He slapped the notebook down in front of you and swiped through a few pages, leaning over you like your dad did when he was helping you with homework. “Let’s see…” he mumbled to himself, “Since I’m busy, it needs to keep you busy.” “There we go,” he said, pointing to a bullet on the list, “Read it out loud to me.” “You don’t have to keep admitting you don’t know how to read, Ed,” you smirked.

He wrapped your hair around his hand and yanked it back, “Don’t get cute with me. Do you want me to call Steve and have him come back here?”

You shook your head no and he let go of your hair, pointing back down to the bullet point on the list. “Have her write 40 lines with her right hand, supervised, use a ruler on her hands the moment her composition isn’t perfect. Make her start over every time. Put all the bad composition on the fridge to remind her how worthless she is,” you read out loud, your voice getting smaller and smaller with each word. “But I’m left handed,” you said to him. “Are you stupid? We know that,” he asked, his face annoyed and quizzical, “That’s why you have to use your right hand. It’s like Catholic school.”

You whined and huffed, the heat starting to get to you. The fan on the counter just blowing more hot air around. He pulled a wide wooden ruler out of the junk drawer and a pen, slamming them down on the table in front of you. He turned closer to the end of the notebook to a clean page and smoothed it out. “Since I have more shit to do, you only have to do ten, go,” he said, back in his position over you. They always had you write 'I will learn self control,’ when it came to touching yourself without asking, so you didn’t need the clarification. The pen felt wrong and uncomfortable in your right hand, you fumbled when you saw Eddie pick up the ruler. “Maybe it’s the heat, or because you’re ruining dinner, or because I don’t really like sharing my toys very often,” he said through gritted teeth, “But I can’t wait for you to fuck up.”

A tear spilled out of your eye at the fear of knowing it was gonna hurt when he got use out of that ruler. You put the pen to the paper, trying to smoothly write 'I’, but it came out more diagonal than anything. CRACK! The sound of the ruler on your knuckles made you jumped before the stinging pain bloomed. “OUCH!” you yelped, “That hurts, Ed.” “It’s. Supposed. To hurt,” he said, another crack of the ruler after every pause in his sentence, “Or else you don’t learn anything.” You looked up at him again, your eyes round and swimming with tears, “What if I was just really sorry? I’m so sorry Ed, you don’t have to be mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” he said, “And I told you not to fuckin’ cry.” Your knuckles were already welting, “And what do you say after we punish you?” he asked. “Th-thank you,” you whispered. He ripped the paper out so a fresh one was in front of you.

“Start over,” he hissed. His jaw was tight while he watched you, eyes dark and brooding. He wasn’t just mad, you could tell he was hurt about something. You did start over, again, and again, and again. He barely spoke, just whacked that ruler down with vigor every time your hand merely slid wrong. Your knuckles were starting to break at the skin, little droplets of blood started peeking through the creases. “I said, perfect penmanship,” he growled after the seventh attempt, “What about that do you not understand?” “It’s h-hard after you hit my h-hands,” you responded, still doing your best to keep your tears in. “We’re gonna be here all night, aren’t we? Can’t even do this simple thing,” he grumbled, sighing and turning the heat down on the oven. He grabbed the oven mitts on the counter and took out the duck, letting it rest on a trivet over by the sink. You felt your nose burn at how stupid he made you feel. “You know I put in all this effort for you and you just like, you don’t even care,” he muttered, not really expecting you to hear him. “Hm?” you started, “Whad'you mean? Of course I care.”

The dominance in his stance was faltering, he leaned against the counter and looked at you, “I’ve been trying to keep you happy this whole week, and you’re still so hung up on Steve. It’s like I’m not even here unless you need to be put in your place.” “Ed–” you started. “And I get it, you were his girl first and you’re Daddy’s precious princess but, you’re my girl, too y'know?” he said, “I wanna take you out, I wanna get you a new dress…” “You can still do those things, we can do those things,” you said, finishing up your fourth line on the new page.

“Just forget it, stay focused,” he said while he came back to lean over you and watch, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his bandana. “You’re making me nervous,” you said, “It’s easier when you don’t watch me…” “Do you talk this much when you do lines for Daddy?” he asked, “Shut up, and write.” You flinched at his harshness, scared and sad about him, “Yes, Master.” “Hm?” you caught the blush burn his cheeks, a bashful grin peeking out from his hardened look, “What was that?” “Yes, Master,” you repeated, focusing your eyes on your lines but smirking at your own cleverness. “Baby, you can’t go around saying that to me when I’m supposed to be mad at you,” he mumbled, standing upright and pushing his hair out of his face. The heat of the kitchen had mostly dried it and he tied it back up in a bun at the base of his neck. His bangs were still puffy and wild against his face. You surveyed him, seeing the bulge growing in his jeans. “Can’t we do something else, sir?” you grinned, “I know how to make you not mad at me. I promise I learned my lesson.” You got on your knees in front of him, reaching for his belt. “I just wanna make you happy,” you really laid it on thick, undoing his belt with a clink and unzipping his jeans. He didn’t stop you from taking his cock out, still a little overwhelmed from his new nickname. “Fuck, kitten, you’re supposed to be in trouble,” he said, leaning back on his hands on the bar cart behind him. You let your hand glide with his skin, soft and silky, still smelling like his body wash and clean laundry. He peered down at you, catching your beaten knuckles as you stroked him, and pouted. He stopped your hand, taking it in his gently and pulled you up for your knees. “Did I do something wrong?” you asked, he was never one to pass up on a blowjob.

“No, no,” he said, he leaned in to kiss you, wet and aggressive. “Juss really needa fuck you right now,” he mumbled, kissing and biting at your neck. He pulled your shorts and underwear off with one fell swoop, hoisting you onto the kitchen table. You let out a squeal that turned into a deep moan while he pushed into you. His ringed hand hoisted up your leg to give him more access while he gripped your hip hard with the other, driving into you at a steady pace. Your breaths hitched at every thrust, he was hitting every spot just right. Your mouth hung open at his rhythm, sweat building on both of you. “It’s gotta be quick baby,” he said, panting, “I have to strain the au jus.” You whined into his quickened pace, feeling yourself get close. “M’ gonna…oh fuck, Ed,” you groaned, digging your nails into his shoulder, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” “Cum for me princess, come on,” he muttered in your ear, tilting you back a little, letting his thumb slip over your clit. That soft sensation did it for you, sending you yowling in the center of the kitchen with the curtains open. Eddie pulled out, sending hot wet seed all over your Camp Hawkins shirt – luckily missing the table as a whole. You both caught your breath, and you slid off the table. “That was, wow,” you said, “Wow.” “Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah.” Eddie shook his head, getting himself back together. “Are you okay?” he asked, while you put your short back on. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said. He came over and laid a gentle kiss on your forehead, lifting your hand and kissed right above your aching knuckles. “We’ll put some ice on it, okay?” he said, “You did so good for me.” You blushed, “I’m gonna change first.” “Can you do two more things for me?” he asked. “Yes.” “Can you clean this table, and then clean yourself up nice and pretty for dinner? It should be all ready when you’re done.” “Yes, chef,” you smiled, walking into the pantry to get your supplies. The phone started to ring and you paused, looking at the phone on the wall and then at Eddie. “You gonna get that? It’s probably Steve,” he said, turning his back to you and reaching for the sauce pans. “No,” you said, at the pantry door, “I’ll just call him tomorrow.” While you didn’t see it, Eddie flushed, his heart racing. His girl, at least for the week, just his girl.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #dom!eddie munson #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x readder #steddie x reader #steddie x you #stranger things fan fiction #dom!steve harrington #dom eddie munson #dom steve harrington #eddie munson fan fiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader smut #the steddieverse

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