#another giant snail

[lulublack90]

Prompt 10 - Favour

@jegulus-microfic January 10, Word count 253

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What the hell was going on? James yanked Regulus’s hand and forced him behind his back, shielding him from the enormous snail. Its beady eyes turned in their direction, its body still facing in the opposite direction. 

With a sickening squelch, the snail began to turn. It moved much faster than he’d expected. Thankfully, they both had quick reflexes thanks to years playing quidditch and took off back the way they'd come. 

“Why is it so big?!” Regulus gasped as James all but dragged him down the corridor.

“No idea,” He grunted as he made a sharp left, the snail still on their tail. 

They ground to a halt as they came face to face with another of the enormous shelled gastropods. “Fuck!” James exclaimed as he changed course, spinning Regulus around to go back the way they’d just come, but it was too late. The other snail had caught up with them.

James panted, spinning his head this way and that, looking for a way out.

“Do me a favour and stop trying to be the hero,” Regulus drawled boredly, as though they hadn’t just legged it down two corridors. He tugged at James’s hand, with a lot more strength than James had given him credit for, and opened a secret passage beside them. They fell into it just as the two snails collided with each other slimily. James shuddered at the sound and lit his wand, taking in Regulus’s scowl.

“We need to find my brother,” Regulus spat through gritted teeth.

Next part

[gullivertravelstowonderland]

Hey theoretically if you were an outdoor borrower with a bug farm in Central Florida what would you make a harpoon out of so it can be shot out of one of these things?

So its like... around toothpick size and it has to have a barbed tip so it latches into the target like a normal harpoon, preferably out of something natural but I'm not opposed to other options

No specific reason tho.

[darius-1]

In another world where Kurozu-Cho is a peaceful town without the City of Spirals, where Kirie and Shuichi are living their lives without the horrifying events that transpired around them. Everyone living normal lives without tragedy and horror. What if the City of Spirals never existed? With Shuichi's father not obsessed with spirals, Azami wouldn't have been corrupted and consumed into nonexistence alongside Okada. There would be no giant snails, no one being intertwined with each other, no hospital horror, no whirlwinds out of thin air, nothing. A world where Kurozu-Cho was never cursed by the Spiral.

[dilfslayer1080p]

I pulled this guy out of my pond thinking it was a huge bladder snail

WHO ARE YOU WHY DO YOU HAVE CAT EARS

[deathinfeathers-a]

.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

THE 5 WORST NEW ZELDA ECHOES

The new Zelda game, Echoes of Wisdom, is great fun and adds many new forms of gameplay to the Zelda world. But not every new summonable Echo is fun to play with. Here are the five worst:

5 - THE CHAIR

Not many people even find the chair echo as it's located in a storage room behind Sahasrala's pizza parlor. The chair is too small to stand on, too light to block anything, and doesn't even catch on fire. It's the most useless of all echoes in the game and considering the difficult and long puzzles needed to attain it, it's best to ignore.

4 - LORD ONEIROSIOSO

This optional boss is the only boss that can be used as an echo once defeated. Sadly, the dream lord just lays around sleeping, and will not get up out of any bed echo around him. Nothing can wake him and once created, it will not go away, robbing you of two triangles you can no longer use, and another 1-3 depending on bed he ruined.

3 - THE COLOSSAL SWORD

This giant sword is too heavy for Zelda or any of her echoes to lift. It just sits there. It can weigh down objects, but as it's 5 screens long, it's too large to summon in any dungeon with a switch to set it on. It also takes 14 triangles, and as your maximum is far fewer, you can't ever even do it.

2 - GIANCARLO ESPOSITO

The first real person possible to summon in a Zelda game, Esposito is most famous for his villain roles in Star Wars, Breaking Bad, and Spike Lee's film biography of Malcolm X. When summoned in Zelda however, he mostly just signs autographs and talks about acting with interested NPCs. Nice guy by all accounts, but not a great echo.

1- THE SPIRAL

The spiral or "Uzumaki" echo is a very powerful groovy thing that everyone wants to see, allowing Zelda to infuse enemies and items with the power of the spiral, obsessing them or turning them into snails. Unfortunately, it can also derange the villagers of Kakariko and lead to an eternal curse. It looks nice on fish cakes though.

[radiance1]

Okay guys.

Dragon Danny, this time not eastern.

BUT HEAR ME OUT, HEAR. ME. OUT.

He's made of....

GOO!

Not just any goo, obviously. But ectoplasmic goo :3

This au is gonna be disconnect from both the Ghost King and Ghost Prince headcanon I should say. Instead of being king of all ghosts, he's basically like...

A mega Blob ghost.

King of the Blob ghosts, even.

Like, basically the equivalent of those giant slime monsters or that King slime boss from Terraria but a dragon!

Whenever he's in dragon form, he can choose if he wants legs or not, if he doesn't, he basically just moves like, well, a snail. Obviously faster than a snail, but still. He doesn't leave a trail behind most of the time though, because he actually needs that stuff thank you very much and leaving a trail behind is pretty messy obviously.

Whenever he uses legs he just walks as any other two legged creature.

Because of his unique biology, he can basically shift between Eastern and Western dragon form at will. He can manipulate his body far more than that, but anyways.

So, Danny has outlived his friends and family, so there isn't much for him to really, well, do anymore. Like, at all.

The GIW was and still is persistent as ever though. Even if he's outlived the original members that were gunning for him.

Apparently, becoming a goo dragon and ascending to his status as King of the Blob ghosts bumped up both his valuableness and his threat simultainously.

Which he guesses is fair because if he saw a guy turn into a giant dragon and he doesn't have a positive relationship with he would see him as a threat too.

So, how did this lead to him being locked up inside of a heavily fortified base created explicitly for him to be contained within.

Well, funny story that (It's not).

He was just minding his business, having recently broken out of another containment facility by the GIW to try and contain him, and he went back to the forest near Amity Park to just chill as he always did.

A few... weeks? Months? He honestly couldn't remember, he was confronted by the GIW. Didn't take them seriously, got this gas/liquid thing shoved inside of him, knocked out, then woke up in contaiment.

Which is basically a giant hole in the ground.

Except that it's a high-tech hole in the ground.

Something, something, ectoplasmic suppressors or whatever that leave him less able to manipulate his own ectoplasm, which is a bummer. He can still manipulate it, of course, just to a far less degree than he could've before, along with that liquid that'll be pumped into him via some metal round in the ground directly below him whenever he gets too rowdy.

Well.

Consider him effectively contained.

So, time passes, how much he couldn't tell you since his concept of time is warped after living for so long plus, it's not like anyone there would really tell him if he asked now would they?

However, today seemed to be an exciting day, because something was happening.

He could see it in the way scientists scramble for an exit and how the guards run through his area. Of course, some still stay to 'guard' him, since he thinks he's some kind of priceless item.

A scientist's words, not his, but being referred to as priceless is nice.

And then wouldn't you know it?

That one scientist that said they would do their best to help him actually pulled through with their words! Thanks, Henry, he has decided that he will not kill you!

(He wasn't going to do it anyways, but it's fun to scare people.)

With both the guards gone, the ectoplasmic suppressors down, and no one to stick that liquid shit into his system.

Well.

You can say he finally gets to go apeshit.

And a dragon is a formidable foe any day. Add to that a rampaging, bored of his mind, petty, dragon that's able to manipulate himself however he wants?

Even better situation for him, how the facility is seemingly being raided right now!

Danny then, no warning, shoves Henry inside of himself. For protection, and then continues his rampage.

Meanwhile, the Justice League, the ones raiding said facility, is currently here because of the Anti-Ecto Acts.

A set of laws they do not, and will not, stand by.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Part two of my thing. Reader probably gives up at some point and just hops on doffys back. Saying something like its easier than trying to keep up with your walking speed. New problem has occurred now reader is now drowning in the soft fluffy feathers of the coat. But its probably better to deal with that over getting lost,running into his legs or booty all the time. Guarantee reader gets accidentally bounced back into the floor each time theyve ran into him. Just like i guarantee doffy sometimes thinks reader is bumping into him on purpose or he does actually stop suddenly just to tease them 🐦‍⬛

🐦‍⬛anon

You. Have deserved a little drabble. Bcs I love this idea, and YES, TOTALLY, WOULD HAPPEN, GET ON THE MAN'S BACK, HONEY. BEHOLD. A little drabble for you, 🐦‍⬛anon. Thank you for sending such great asks and ideas! 🥹 This is set in the Red Suit Doffy Fic ie North Blue Doffy x Rosinante's Wife!Reader. I hope you like it.

You fell to the floor. This time, the collision with Doflamingo's leg was too sudden, and you'd been walking three times your speed to keep up with him in the city — at one point, you’d started to pant because you started jogging to keep up with him.

Doflamingo looked over his shoulder. He noticed you lying on the ground on your elbows, groaning as your butt hurt.

He snorted.

The bastard.

Snorted.

“Sorry,” he said, flashing you his wide, large grin, not looking sorry at all. You were sure that this time, the bastard stopped on purpose. In fact, you were sure that this entire day, he’d stopped on purpose randomly just so your face would bump into the back of his upper thigh.

“That's it!” you shrieked, your shout startling the ignorant citizens walking down the street of the town. “I’ve had it with you! And your stupid long legs!”

Doflamingo was still smiling, even as he turned to you, looking down at you. “It’s not my fault you’re so short.” He reached down with his arm — he didn't even have to bend down — and patted your head condescendingly. “And slow.”

You growled. You knew he wouldn’t let you walk around town alone, and it would be a hassle if you got lost because he decided to walk ahead without checking that you were following him. For such a tall man, he could disappear unnervingly easily from sight.

“Look at you,” he cooed, the tips of his fingers ruffling your hair slightly, like you were a pet. “Already panting just from some walking.”

“Your walking steps are three times the width of mine!” you said, slapping at his wrist. Doflamingo chuckled. “And your legs are as tall as my entire body!”

“Actually, my legs are taller than you,” said Doflamingo, smiling widely at you.

You inhaled, your fists clenching, and you were about to punch him in the groin — it would be easy enough — or his knee, which would also be easy enough. Whether your punch would reach him was another thing entirely.

This time, Doflamingo did bend down, his upper body and face taking up your entire vision, his hands in the pockets of his red suit pants, his grin devilish and wide as an evil cat's.

“Well, you can always let me carry you in my arms like the spoiled thing you are. I wouldn’t mind.”

Your eyes widened. Oh. So that was his plan. You watched him, and his face. He was certain he'd won, and you feared that, too, until...

Your eyes settled on his large pink coat. Then, slowly, a grin unfurled on your own face, frighteningly similar to Doflamingo's.

“Actually,” you said, “I’ll ride on your coat.”

Oh. Oh. The way Doflamingo’s face fell as he realised he couldn’t say no without making it obvious he wanted to carry you bridal style across the city for the rest of the day was priceless.

You wished you had a Photo Snail to capture the moment for eternity.

You waved your index finger at him in a motion to turn around. “Come on, you giant menace. Turn and squat a bit.”

Doflamingo’s jaw clenched. He scowled, sneered, but relented, and turned around, then squatted slightly, bending his knees. Wasting no time, you jumped as high as you could, leaping right for the huge pink feather coat — which was also bigger than you — landed on it, and started climbing your way up it. Maybe you kicked Doflamingo in the ass and gave him a light shove on his lower back as you climbed, but he couldn’t say anything to it unless he revealed his true intentions.

So, he stayed quiet — fuming all the while, you were sure — as you clambered up his pink feather coat, popped your head up over the collar, gripped onto the underlayer, and settled yourself across it.

It was extremely fluffy, the feathers soft like clouds. They tickled across your face and brushed against your nose.

“You better not be clinging to the feathers.” he grumbled. By the sound of his voice, this was definitely not how he imagined this to go. “And don’t put your shoes on it.”

You scoffed. Saints forbid his perfect coat gets dirty. But... You brushed your fingers gently over the feathery softness, feeling a smile lift on your face.

“I’m holding onto the coat. Your feathers are fine.” you assured, rolling your eyes at him. Then, you gave him a little nudge with your feet in the back as revenge for all the times you crashed into his legs facefirst today. “Go, donkey.”

“I will throw you over, woman.”

You settled your head close to his ear, and whispered. “No, you won’t.”

Doflamingo didn’t say anything. Slowly — almost as though he was being considerate of the sudden height difference and surge of height you would gain — he straightened up.

Your eyes widened as you sat on the immense height, staring at the vision of the street before you. It was amazing, and so different from how you saw it. Was this how Doflamingo saw the entire city, and all the people? No wonder he thought he was a god on earth. Anyone who was this height must think something similar.

Doflamingo started walking, the pink feathers swaying with each move of his legs. The coat was so soft and comfortable... You could fall asleep like this, your face caressed by his pink feathers. Unconsciously, your hands climbed up, your fingers settling atop Doflamingo's shoulders — thick, solid and firm.

“Thanks, Doffy.” you said.

Doflamingo chuckled. He tilted his head to the left toward where your chin sat atop his shoulder, his feathers caressing your face, swathing you in their pink plumage. He couldn’t help it. He leaned down and nuzzled your cheek.

“You welcome, darling.” he purred.

He laughed when you groaned, your face getting red. You retracted your head back into his coat.

“I’m regretting it now...” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the feathers.

Doflamingo laughed victoriously. His plan might not have worked as planned, but you were still close to him, and he was still carrying you.

“You’re not getting off this ride now!” he crowed, laughing maniacally. “So better get comfortable.”

He sauntered down the street, and the more he moved, the more you understood how he had such confidence, because you felt a swell of it slowly pouring in your gut, too.

You chuckled, and rested your face against the feathers, on his broad, firm shoulder covered by soft, pink feathers.

“Aye, sir.”

***

Thank you for the ask, 🐦‍⬛anon!

Tag list: @fanaticsnail @queenmimi2817 @daydreamer-in-training

[normal-thoughts-official]

In the remote recesses of the world, north even to the great Maghreb, live a people with a weird and offputting cousine.

The French, as they're called, partake in the consumption of unique, and oftentimes alarming, ingredients, such as snails, frogs, fish eggs, and, on occasion, juice made of rotten grapes.

The most surprising part of this appalling cultural norm is that it is not, as no doubt thought our readers, the result of famine or lack of resources. Although mainly known for their violent culture, in which it is widely accepted to burn other people's cars, (and, before modern civilization made its way to the region, even take off helpless people's heads with a giant cleaver called the guillotine), the French also have access to rich resources often not exploited by the modern world. One such place is the Landes forest, home to the adorable rabbit, which recently has become a choice of pet for those leaning towards the exotic.

No, the French don't eat such slimy, questionable items out of necessity; it is by choice. As appalling as it may sound, they actually consider the foods derived from such ingredients to be high cuisine, and dishes containing them can be particularly expensive in the small region's economy.

With the blessing of my editor, and the guarantee that a medical team specializing in gastroenterology would be at the ready in case of an emergency, I agreed to travel to the faraway region to sample some of the so-called "delicacies". They were prepared by real, native Frenchs, although inspected by a health expert to make sure the hygienization was adequate. I've always been an adventurous eater, but even I must admit that the prospect filled me with aprehension. Would I be able to stomach the foreign dishes without getting sick, or worse, offending our arson-happy hosts?

My anxieties were initially heightened by the conversation with the French who hosted me; as is typical in their culture, he was offputting and rude, often commenting on the mistakes I made on the weird, twisting tongue I was doing my best to emulate. Still, in the spirit of cultural acceptance and not getting my head cut off, I accepted his socially inapt behavior with grace.

I must admit that the rotten grapes were what I was most curious about. The juice derived from them, known as wine, is considered a delicacy, and there are hundreds of different types of it. In French culture, there are even people whose entire job is to appoint the correct choice of wine to go with any given food; such men and women are caled sommeliers and held in high regard by French society.

I quickly learned that the making of wine is something of an art to the native Frenchs. As my self-important host dizzied me with endless descriptions of different wine varieties, I realized I may have gotten too deep into the turbulent waters of the unique region's palate. Out of the exhausting and oftentimes confusing technical detail, however, I was able to extract an important piece of information: the extent of the rot is important in the making of wine.

That's right, dear reader: they actually prefer it when the grapes are more rotten! Spanning not only decades, but sometimes whole centuries, the French's grapes are left to rot in humid wooden barrels - a tradition that's been kept alive since the Middle Ages -, becoming thoroughly ruined so that their juice may be extracted for the making of wine. And the longer they have been left decomposing with their local fungus, the more valuable the juice is.

I was simply too curious to wait. And even more delighted to find out about yet another culinary tradition I didn't know about: the social gatherings known as wine and cheese, in which wine is paired with a variety of solid, yellow, rubber-like wheels derived from fat extracted from cows' milk - the cheese.

Such unique, foul-smelling dishes are a frequent part of the everyman French's life, being consumed by rich and poor alike in a variety of different recipes from all sorts of French subregions. Among them, I found yet another that would delight my intellect and terrify my stomach: gorgonzola. To the reader not quite as deep in diving into the intricacies of French culture, I shall explain: gorgonzola is but a piece of the aforementioned cheese, left to mold.

I could not believe my ears. These people drank rotten grapes and paired them with rotten cow fat, and they enjoyed it. What to us would be a nightmare scenario in a case of extreme poverty, and a surefire way to earn a trip to the hospital, to them was a quite enjoyable meal.

I later learned that gorgonzola is actually from a neighboring nation close to the French - the Italians. Although officially considered a different tribe, Italians share much in common with the French, including the love for wine and cheese, a quite long border, and a language derived from the same roots - the long-dead Latin, ancient language in which their holy book, the "Bible", was once written.

I am happy to report that my experimentation did not lead to hospital trips, and the most I got was an unusually long carsickness. But I have taken with me much more than the curious experience: traveling to France has helped me expand my horizons, meet new people, and connect with cultures other than my own. Although violent and offputting, the French can be quite amorous, and I was even gifted a piece of cheese from a little girl. It is not an experience I would like to repeat anytime soon, but it's made for an interesting story that helped me grow as a writer, investigative journalist, and, most of all, eater.

I can only hope my stomach has taken some good lessons out of the experience, too.

Cremilda Castanho is a writer, cat-lover, and known foodie, with a knack for finding unexplored depths of cuisine across the world. Her book, What Weirdos Eat, was a Folha de São Paulo best seller, and paved the way for culinary exploration in journalism, earning her a Pulitzer prize.

[fanaticsnail]

Chapter 6

Masterlist here, Moodboard here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 7,353

The Storyteller - Sapsorrow"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

(Image Source)

Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner!

Song Accompaniments: Crumbling Dreams - Milo the Otter!, Moon Dance - Danny Elfman

Reopening the large double doors to the large ballroom, Mihawk ushered you through the threshold with his guiding hand placed on the small of your back. He allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes and taking a moment to compose himself as your perfume danced past him upon entering the room. Stepping behind you and reopening his eyes, his yellow hue was met with the intense purple gaze of the giant, reptilian man darkening your radiancy with his intimidating aura. 

“My lady,” Sir Crocodile addressed you at his side, “If I may be granted the luxury of taking your arm a moment. I have decided to rescind my invitation for your beau to view the creation I have crafted and allow it to be a moment for you to take with your eyes only.” You cocked your head to the side, turning your chin towards the lord of Kuraigana at your side, but continuing to hold firm your gaze onto the large man in front of you.

“I hope you are not suggesting I am to enter a room alone with you, unchaperoned, Sir Crocodile?” you quipped, your left brow arching and lips pursing at the suggestion. Sir Crocodile allowed the rumble of his chest to exhale his sour cigar through huffs of laughter. 

“Of course not, my lady,” he uttered once his laughter stifled. Mihawk bore his golden gaze into the smirking face of the dangerous reptilian man, baring his own intimidation onto his towering body, “There will be three others with me, one of whom I likely deem the most competent out of the bunch. I take it you know the Red-Hair Pirates a little more than you do the blue-haired clown?”

You sighed, nodding your head in confirmation before turning back around to face your intended. He was less than impressed at the notion you were to be spirited away by the three men he tasked with aiding him with his impossible tasks, with the potential notion of viewing you in a variety of states of undress. It was written all over his face: jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and brow angled down to depict his displeasure at the suggestion. As he was about to speak up, another presence with a familiar scent of dried tobacco leaves and gunpowder arrived at his side. 

“Don’t you worry yourself, Hawk-Eyes,” Beckman hushed his rumbled drawl against his shoulder, “If anything goes awry: I’ll shoot first, and apologize later for ruinin’ your marble walls.” Mihawk snapped his gaze over to the silver-haired first-mate of the red-hair pirates, continuing to hold firm his scowl and hissing in a firm breath through his nose as he eyed him.

“I take it you’re the competent member of this coup to pry my bride from my arms and away from our engagement soiree,” Mihawk snarled, his brow deeply furrowing in the center of his forehead. Beckman smirked, his lips ticking up at the corner of his mouth.

“Would you prefer to place the safety of your bride in the rat, the reptile, or the idiot?” Beckman shrugged his shoulders up in question. A crackly, sharp “Hey!” growled from behind the crocodilian man, followed by the chuckle of the red-headed captain you have come to enjoy. Mihawk tilted his neck sharply to the side, a short ‘click’ elicited from his spine as he processed the words. 

Mihawk unwove his arm from your back before claiming your right hand within his left, turning you to face him in an intricate and elaborate twirl. Stepping sidewards, he withdrew you from the towering and unwanted company without excusing himself and halted your movements. Gazing deeply and lovingly into your eyes, he drew your right hand up and placed a kiss atop the back of your knuckles. Your breath hitched in your throat, floating your gaze between focusing on each of his eyes as he broke the deep kiss against your hand. 

A thousand questions flew between the two of you internally. From you, mainly, was how long had he felt this way for you. Surely not for only the month you had stayed at castle Kuraigana, but a lord should not be turning his head to a governess at decorative galas. For Mihawk, he was questioning how deeply he trusted the four to be alone with someone so dear to his heart… Or how much trust you placed in Beckman in your interactions prior. 

Through the unspoken discussion, you fought an unwinnable battle internally. You chose to disregard your formal training and allow a moment of softness to overtake your stoic form. Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place. 

His eyes snapped up, meeting first with the brown hue of Red-Haired Shanks’ eyes, who shot him a playful wink as soon as he witnessed the small gift of affection. 

“I will not be away from your side if you are uncomfortable with this, beloved,” Mihawk uttered in a voice little above a whisper. You smiled against his cheek, withdrawing your lips from him and looking up at him through your eyelashes. He quickly drew his honeyed eyes back to meet with yours, softening as soon as he met your affectionate gaze. 

“These are the gentlemen you trusted enough to complete this task,” you whispered under your breath, a smile dancing at the corners of your mouth, “And I trust Beckman to handle it should it become too much for me.” 

“As do I,” Mihawk confirmed, leaning down towards you. He drew his hand up to your face, hovering it over your hair with a small apprehensive quake to his movements; invisible should one be not looking for it, “I would not see a single hair atop your head harmed.” He brushed your cheek with his fingertips gently as his hand found itself cupping your shoulder.

“There was a time I did not see eye to eye with these men,” he uttered his warning sternly, ensuring you held firm to each word he relayed to you. Allowing a small giggle to fall from your parted lips, eyes upturning in a taunting glee, you allowed your eyes to fall to rest on his mustache-topped lip. 

“My lord,” you uttered darkly, drawing your eyes up to meet slowly with his once more, “You are behaving as if you forget the true reason you invited me here in the first place.” Stepping your body closer to his had him drop his hand and draw themselves to your hips once more, head head angling down to meet with your approaching lips to whisper in his ear. 

“I handle the most undisciplined of pupils,” you sighed against his ear, Mihawk closing his eyes to resist the shudder of joy at your breath dancing against his lobe, “Getting them to behave,” you watched his shoulders finally give into the shudder, prompting your lips to curl up into a sly grin, “Is one of my strengths.”

You withdrew from his proximity, allowing your half-hooded eyes to meet his through your eyelashes. Mihawk was holding his composure to his regular stoic rigidity, but his slightly blown pupils held a different prose. He lightly ticked his lip up to the side, allowing a softness to rise within his eyes as he gazed at you. Although neither of you confessed to harboring deep affection on the balcony moments prior, you could tangibly feel how far Mihawk truly held fondness for you. 

“Perhaps we should draw this evening to a close,” Mihawk suggested, glancing past you and around the room, “It would seem the preferable option, considering it could look to others that you are abandoning me to flee into the night with four men you met moments prior.” Both Mihawk and you allowed a small laugh to fall between you at the notion. He retracted his hands from your waist and elevated his right hand in a gesture to the orchestral arrangement to halt their performance. 

“Honored guests,” Mihawk spoke up, his voice alerting the surrounding participants to halt their conversations and turn to face him, “My bride and I have been delighted at your attendance here this night.” Mihawk turned, interlacing your right arm within his left and presented you both to the crowd gathering.

“I trust you can all find your own way from the halls to take your leave,” Mihawk nodded to the great doors, aligned with rows of candelabras dancing and illuminating the castle’s exit’s. He smirked at the corner of his lips before adding, “Should you desire aid in your exit, I would sooner ask Perona to navigate you than Zoro. He has a knack for getting lost within the walls.” A small grumbled groan was almost audible to the side of the room, no doubt in your mind it was thrust from the lips of your green-haired gentleman in training. 

“We will be looking forward to accepting your responses regarding your future attendance at our upcoming wedding,” You curtseyed to the crowd, bowing your head respectfully; a gesture which was returned with equal enthusiasm by your prior students in attendance with their chaperones, “It has been a delight to make your acquaintance, and to see you all again.” You danced your eyes over your students, them all returning your smile with vigor. 

The guests began to file out of the open doors of castle Kuraigana, the large reptilian man once again extending his elbow in a gesture for you to take it. Paying one more glance to the side at your intended and meeting his eyes a final time, you unlaced your hand from within the crook of his elbow and interwove it within the arm of Sir Crocodile. 

“He doesn’t love you.”

Your brows furrowed, looking straight ahead and not sure where the doubts were coming from. Shaking your head to rid your mind of the thoughts, you engaged Sir Crocodile, Buggy and Shanks in polite conversation as they ushered you throughout the halls; the protective presence of Benn Beckman behind you aiding you in feeling safe with the two strangers alongside the red-haired rat. 

Perona watched your retreat with great interest; her wide eyes narrowed as she witnessed the exit with the four men. Zoro smirked, his brow arched up as he playfully gave his commentary on the situation. 

“What is it?” He smirked down, hovering over her shoulder, “Don’t like the thought of our Governess being without the great lord to protect her from the three burly men and that stupid clown?” Perona’s lips were tight in a firm line, her focus on the back of your head. She began to hover in the air, slowly finding her body drawing itself closer to your own, staring off into the distance.

“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.” 

—----------------

Beautiful. 

Everything was simply beautiful. The layers of satins, silks, chiffon, ivory, embroidered golds and silvers. The two dresses were everything your greatest fantasies could have ever dreamed up, and then exceeded the expectations tenfold. Each gentleman presented their designs to you; Sir Crocodile’s first. The hue alone was enough to make your eyes gloss over and a sigh pulled from your lungs at its mastery. Buggy the Clown’s presentation had the gloss begin to prick at the corners of your eyes and trail their diamond lines down your cheeks. 

But Shanks. Shanks. Shanks’ contribution had the change of pace from dreaminess to a bashfulness you had not experienced in some time. Excusing yourself from the other two men after bowing respectfully to the hulking Sir Crocodile, and encumbering the clown in and embrace for their efforts, you were chaperoned into a small room with both Beckman and Shanks to accompany you.

“Now, love,” he began, prompting your eyes to fall forward and dance over the mannequin’s bodice, “This is the concept only. I’m still working on the finer details, and I won’t leave the port of Kuraigana before it finally comes to me,” he took your shoulder beneath his palm and ushered you over to the bodice, the curtain draping behind you to shield the three of you from the other two gentlemen. Beckman continued to hold his eyes firmly against the sealed crack in the velvet curtains to ensure no prying eyes view the lingerie Shanks had made for you. 

“See, this is where it goes over your breasts,” he gestured to the torso of the onyx bodice of the mannequin, releasing your shoulder from beneath his palm and tugging at several robes of gold hanging limply, “And these tie everything in place. The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it, the rays,” he released the golden rope and adjusted the sheer robe over the shoulders, “The rays are bound by each of the knots tying it together.” 

“How would you ever expect me to remember how to assemble the knots and the strings myself?” you furrowed your brows, attempting to see the vision Shanks had for the outfit. Shanks chuckled, clasping the back of his neck as he winced a little in anticipation of your reaction. 

“Well, Exterminator,” he laughed at you, prompting you to arch your brow and seek him out in the corner of your eye, “Some assembly is required by another person. I’d never do anything you, yourself, are not comfortable with, but,” He drew himself in front of you, “If you’d prefer it just me, I can use my right hand and my teeth to bind you within it.” Your eyes widened at the suggestion.

“I do not desire your sharpened rat-teeth near me, Shanks,” you reprimanded him, your brow decreasing and resting in a straight and serious line. Shanks winced a little at your elevated words, but nodded to your boundary. 

“Would you prefer it if Beckman did the knot tying?” The usually stoic man had his ears pricked up at his name, still holding his eyes firmly against the line of the curtain but listening more intently to the conversation behind him, “What say you, Becks? You keen on doing some knot tying for our most precious and beloved exterminator on her big day?” Beckman sighs, shaking his head and takes a few moments to answer that very pointed and heavy question. 

The first moment you met him, he found you effortlessly managing the crew of Red-Haired pirates from their lustful advances on a menagerie of young ladies in silks and satins. This piqued his interests, him desiring to learn more about the protective exterminator and her role in shepherding the youthful gentlemen and women in society. 

After many years of running into you from port to port, he treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well. 

“If you would prefer me to complete this task for you, teeth free,” he smirked, placing a cigarette between his lips and igniting the tip with a lighter, “Wouldn’t wanna do nothin’ you’re uncomfortable with, my lady. This would be a rather intimate experience, and I wouldn’t dream of putin’ ya in a position you’d not deem appropriate.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, truly now realizing what task you placed on your intended when you initially requested the former warlord to complete.

“I require a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its intended purpose. A dress so scantily designed, that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance.”

Your heart panged with guilt, eyes wide but frown depending as you relayed your own words within your mind. Before your words had enough time to gather more thoughts behind their intentions, you found yourself murmuring below your breath; Beckman responding in a similar tone to your question. 

“Could you do it blindfolded?”

“I will do my best, my lady.”

“You better get to planning your wedding, love,” Shanks called up from behind you, prompting you to turn back around to face him, “I think I’ll have it for you sooner than you might think.” 

—----------------------

Tucked beneath the duvet after ridding yourself of your gown and scrubbing the night off your skin, you reminisced the words Shanks spoke over you. You shook your head, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation you had found for yourself. A small shriek allowed itself to exit from your lips as you hid your face beneath the covers; yourself devolving to a teenager encumbered by their own stupidity circulating within their minds. 

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.” 

Your ears pricked up at the voice, prompting you to throw the covers of your bed from your face and seek out its source. Slowly scanning the room, you found no such presence within the corners of your wing. The bothersome thoughts circulating within your mind seemed to have a physical presence; a presence that continued to watch over you as an executor would watch a prisoner place their head within the circle of a guillotine. 

Laying back down against your plush mattress, you began to be eclipsed by invasive and tiresome thoughts so tangible that your body felt more tired upon reawakening than it did attempting its slumber. Once again, no birds serenaded the morn due to its distance between breaking the daylight against the purple hue of cool nightfall. 

Sucking in a breath from your nose, you flung the covers back with your exhale and began to aggressively tug trousers and a blouse onto your body, alongside your socks and boots. Perhaps pushing yourself further to exhaustion may coerce your body to allow slumber to claim you. 

Attempting to furiously walk in silence was no easy feat. The desire to allow the remaining members of the household to enjoy their restfulness overcame your own need to behave erratically and childish in the moment, but you were looking forward to enjoying stomping to your heart's content to satisfy your inner angry teenager once walking among the grounds. 

After opening the cold, wooden door to the castle; you silently crossed the threshold and clicked the latch behind you as softly as you could muster with the iron-barred door’s affinity for squeaks and clanks. You turned and hastily embarked on your descent down the stairs and onto the footpath leading towards the vast grapevines throughout the castle grounds. The pebbles kicked up with dust beneath your heels, scuffing your shoes as you picked up your brief sprint to the winding and heavily fruited vines. 

Upon reaching the first row, your steps halted their motion as your mind began to process exactly what was happening before your eyes. Your fingertips began to shake at your hips, your jaw slackened and eyes wide. 

Dracule Mihawk, lord of castle Kuraigana and lands surrounding, former warlord of the seas, current world’s greatest swordsman, your betrothed and intended husband, was gardening. Hands holding firm to the base of a mattock and humming under his breath, he slammed down the iron tip to pry the earth of its rest. His brown trousers were stained with the waxy coat of the ground, cementing itself against his calves and leather boots. 

His shirt was hanging on a post beside a small, dirty triangle of cloth and a round, large brimmed straw hat, leaving his entire chest and back exposed to the sunlight as it began to share the radiance of the dawn. Beside the hat lay an intricately designed bouquet tied with twine and lace and laying carefully within the circle of the upturned hat. 

A grunt fell from his lips per impact of the earth, halting his hum as his body continued upheaving the ground to a point he deemed far enough to stop digging. His forearms and biceps shook upon impact, his pectorals and abdomen compressing upon retracting the object from its place embedded in the earth. As he turned away from the hole he dug, he rubbed his forearm against his brow to rid it of the sweat and grime. 

He sighed as he began retrieving a small vine with bare roots and placed it within the hole, kicking the dirt beneath his boot heel to place the earth securely around it, and stomping to resolidify the ground. Straw hat, ruffled pale shirt, covered in mud, gardening, flowers in a bouquet. 

It all began to swirl within your mind, watching as he sighed once more before placing the pale shirt over his head. He secured the face shield over the lower half of his face and began spraying the hole he had just covered with rain water. The earth began to splash up under the pressure of the nozzle of the hose, dampening his pale shirt and caking the top half of his body with sticks, mud and hay from the compost. More water began to splash up into his face, him shaking his head and grumbling below his breath, verbally reprimanding himself.

“Never messy in combat, never messy in gardening,” Mihawk yelled at himself in a hushed tone, “But you slip below the vines one time and now you’re this-this-...” He sighed again, raking his fingers through his exposed locks a final time before shaking his head, “This Farm-Hand. The creature from the earth created to serve as friend and confidant to your beloved. Why must she make me so-... so-...” He growled, intentionally now splashing his body with water, raindrops falling like glass from each curl attached to his radiant head. 

Hastily, you stepped as quietly as you could away from the scene in front of you, hearing the vocal chastations echo with each angry grumble exiting from his mouth. You placed your back against a nearby oak tree and took a moment to process internally what you had seen and heard. Clapping both hands over your mouth, you began to teeter into a giggle. 

The lord of Kuraigana, your betrothed and beloved, had intentionally been attempting to woo you all this time with flowers each day for a month. The first time you had caught him was when you were wandering the halls in your nightdress, apparently the first time he had ever fallen amongst the sludge while gardening: covering his body from head to toe in an amassment of the earthly elements. 

You risked a peek at him, witnessing as he shook his head further; now completely under the disguise as your friend: the Farm-Hand. Fur, feather, straw, clay, mud, sticks and stone cover all apart from his honeyed eyes and his straw hat. He has assembled his beastly persona, a caricature of the man you had come to adore through your time spent with him. 

A portion of you wanted to continue this torturous facade for him, not one to enjoy trickery or deceit and wishing to punish him in some way for his lies. Although immediately after that single thought, you smiled for your sweet Farm-Hand, adoring the extent he was willing to go to enjoy speaking with you with no filter apart from the muck and slop he adorned on his body. After toying with the notion within your mind, you decided on behaving in the former: not wishing to allow him the upper hand in this next interaction. 

“Farm-Hand?” You called to him, weaving your body from behind the tree and exposing yourself under the first light of the dawn, “Farm-Hand, is that you here so early?” You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level. 

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest. 

“Sir, are you alright?” you asked, beginning your hasty descent towards him and almost losing footing yourself. 

“I would not be so hasty-!” Mihawk called at a moment too slow, watching as you lost your own footing beneath the sludge of his own making and being dropped to a low crouch; managing to collect yourself at the last moment. “My lady, are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

“I am uninjured, my darling,” you reassured him with a small chuckle, bringing your eyes up to meet with his shielded face, “It is you I am more concerned. Do you tumble often? Must be very poor on the knees.” You silently hoped he both would and wouldn’t catch onto your vocal slip up, darting your eyes between his to check over his reaction to the name. 

“I try not to lose my footing often, my lady,” he confessed, reaching out his unoccupied left hand to you to ensure you were steady enough in your crouched position, by offering you additional aid should you need it, “Contrary to what you might think, I am actually rather competent at gardening.” You smiled, rising to your feet and collecting his left hand within your right to support him in his rise. 

“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his. 

You began to walk in silence, the destination of the castle steps once more in sight for Farm-Hand. You noticed his shoulders slouching and the weight of a mental burden begin overencomber him beneath the waves of thought. You furrowed your brows at his posture, unsure as to how to address such an issue. 

“Is there something the matter, Farm-Hand?” you asked him, slowing your step beside him to check him over. 

“All is well, Lost-Lady,” he uttered in a half-hearted manner. You purse your lips, a frown finding its home against the center of your brow as you looked him over once more. You decided against continuing this little facade further, and halted your steps all together as you both stood at the entrance of the doorway. Sighing out a huff of agitation, you shook your head before hardening your resolve in addressing the proverbial elephant in the room: although you were truly unsure as to how. 

You rotated your neck, a small crack produced from its circular motion in response. Drawing your eyes up to meet with his and stepping into his aura, you looked down at the floral arrangement in his hands. The hues were as vibrant and beautiful as each day prior, although this bunch seemed to hold an almost desperate apprehension and appreciation. There were so many intricate elements, it looked as if he absolutely scanned each leaf, petal, and stem within the greenhouse and beyond to draw each piece into it. 

“Will you be joining me for breakfast this morning?” you coyly asked him, trying to tease out whether he would give himself up willingly or continue with this little facade no matter how much it pained him to do so. He looked at you, puzzled and perplexed, and began to attempt to assemble a response to your question.

“I will be where I always am for breakfast, my lady,” he responded, his eyes looking very pleased with his retort. You hummed in response, nodding your head externally while internally agitated at his successful avoidance of the question. Your betrothed seemed to not desire giving himself up willingly; which spurred you on to push harder.

“Even now he hides his face from you. He intends to deceive you until the bitter end.” 

You shook your head of the thoughts whispering into your consciousness, casting them aside by closing your eyes and assessing your internal monologue. Reopening your eyes, you gazed back into his honeyed hues and smiled once more at him.

“Then I shall bid you farewell, sir,” you nodded politely and began to take your leave of him to only be halted by his firm grip holding firm to your right bicep beneath his left hand. You halted in your steps, turning back to look at him with your eyes filled with something Mihawk was not expecting to see from you. 

Sorrow. Doubt. A deep and upturned sadness eclipsed over your face and caused him to stumble over his next words to you. 

“I thought we were past all of those titles, Lost-Lady,” he attempted to reassure you with his words, only for you to pull away from his grasp. You apprehensively drew your right hand up to his face, hovering in front of his hat and mimicking the same movement over his features as he did the night prior. You sighed as your thumb brushed against his shielded chin before finding yourself cupping his shoulder beneath your palm. 

“Would you prefer me to call you ‘Farm-Hand’,” you sighed, a smile pricking at the corner of your mouth as you continued to watch his eyes stagger beneath your pointed look, “Or shall I return the title you bestowed onto me?” 

Mihawk was perplexed. Had you been spying on him? Did your ears hear the internal monologue he decided to relay verbally, actively mocking himself for his idiocy? Surely not. Hopefully not. He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours. 

“And what title may that be?” Mihawk whispered beneath his breath caught within his throat. His gaze followed your fingertips as they circled around the flowers within his hands, prompting him to release them into your grip. You slipped your hand from his shoulder and turned to begin your withdrawal into the manor with one final quip over your shoulder.

“Thank you for the flowers. I will cherish them as I do all of the others you have presented me each day.” Beginning your ascension to your wing, you couldn’t help but wonder why he decided to continue adorning the mask you had already seen slipping and cracking at the corners. 

“Perhaps it was truly because he does not truly love you.”

After retreating back into your designated wing, you shook the thoughts away from your mind and replaced the flowers atop your table with the fresh assortment he had crafted for you. You sighed out a small breath and began changing from your soiled clothes into your regular gown for tutelage of your two wards for the day. 

Breakfast was far from silent that morning. Perona had begun chittering away about which lord and lady had begun courtship. She provided her commentary on the dresses and suits adorning each member of the attendees, focussing on the amassment of silks and satins clinging to the infamous clown-captain of the east blue. 

“Did you see his frilly collar? Wasn’t it stunning?” her voice did little to hide her excitement regarding the frills and feathers, “And how beautiful his hair is! How does he keep his locks so silken on the seas, Mihawk? In fact, how do you keep them so-.”

“-Why must you continue to listen to the whining of the insufferable child? Flee from this land and find a suitor attuned to your interests and class-.”

“-And the amount of weaponry on the red-haired pirates! Did you see Yassop’s pistol, Zoro?” Perona continued with glee. Zoro grunted, reaching for a small rice-ball and placing it onto his plate before pouring himself a small, ceramic dish of tea from his ocha teapot. 

“And the green-haired boy? Do you think he truly need of your services? He is a swordsman, no mere gentleman in need of a few curt lashes upon his behind. You can do nothing to train him further in the ways you know best. Leave.” 

“I did see,” he grunted, rising the small mug to his lips and taking a sip, “I aim to tell my sharpshooting crewman about it when I get back to ‘em. Usopp would be keen to-.”

“Even now your intended ignores you. He has no interest in fostering the flames of your affection.” 

You inhaled a deep breath, a shaken hand reaching forward to grasp your teaspoon within it and stirring a spoon of honey within the mug. You placed the spoon beside the mug and began to raise it to your lips and take a small sip of the liquid within. 

Mihawk was not accustomed to this amount of silence from you. You often engaged with the wards in conversation over breakfast and went over the agenda for the day. Routine, structure and discipline were the three aspects alongside true professionalism he had come to enjoy with your mornings. Whatever plagued your thoughts held you completely in silence and unable to speak those words to life. 

“Beloved-?” Mihawk began, attempting to regain your attention, only to witness your eyes continue to stare at the teapot placed in front of you. 

“The moon, the starlit sky; they are beautiful dresses. But the golden assortment? Do you truly think that be enough-?”

“-My love, are you quite alright?” Mihawk attempted to gain your attention once more, only to become more concerned at the state of your daze. Perona halted her conversation with Zoro, looking over to Mihawk before drawing her eyes over your hunched form. 

“Why don’t you set them in a glorious blaze, hm? What would be the harm in setting fire to those beautiful gowns? It should save you both the trouble of going through this sham of a marriage-.”

“-Hey!” Perona’s booming and otherworldly voice held dominion over the room, prompting your eyes to immediately draw themselves up to your pink-haired ward in confusion. Her rounded, dark pupils were holding firm to a space beside your left ear, the internal monologue halting itself as you glanced up. Perona began to levitate above the breakfast table, her hands reaching forward with her palms presented outwards.

“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays. Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs. 

You felt a weight being shifted off you as Perona’s hands sunk into the air beside you and cast it upwards. Feeling the rush of wind beside you, you inhaled a shaken breath and closed your eyes in a tight squeeze and held your lips in a tight and firm line. Feeling alone of the inner monologue, your hands were taken within the cool hands of your betrothed; prompting your eyes to flitter open. 

“She is gone, beloved” he crouched at your left hand side, looking up into your eyes with concern interwoven within the once more amber hue of his irises. “Have her words bring you no hindrance nor whisper of worry. She can do no harm on this plane.” He reached up his hand and claimed your cheek beneath his palm, soothing you with his thumb rubbing circles within your smooth skin. “Her words are poisonous. The only harm she can truly do on this plane is with her words alone. I promise you, you are safe.” 

“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.” Mihawk continued to hold you within his sights, as he desired to ensure your emotional wellbeing after an encounter with the spectre of the witch that plagued him. 

“She has been here with me since the ring was placed atop our governess’ unity finger. I had heard her voice only once before such a time,” Mihawk informed the three of you within the room, “And it was when I commissioned the ring to be set within the woven band itself.” 

Drawing your eyes over to his, you danced your sorrowful eyes between his and allowed yourself a moment of weakness to lean into his palm with your cheek. He sighed at the small gesture, leaning his crouched body further into your and searching your eyes for any thoughts you desired to relay onto him. 

“She fled from me two days ago when I had began concluding the task placed on me,” Mihawk continued to confess, removing his hand from your cheek and collecting both of your hands within his own, “I thought we were rid of her, considering-,” he halted his words, continuing to leave them unspoken within the air, but written all over his face.

Considering I love you.

Your soft smile in return had Mihawk’s heart swell within his chest. He drew your hands up to his face, the knuckles on your hands brushing his mustache as his lips caressed each joint above your fingers gently and deliberately. Perona smiled an impish smile as her eyes met with the display of affection between her lord and her governess, prompting her to swiftly gather the arm of the swordsman and direct him away from the room with an echo of protestations: “Hey, but I didn’t get to finish my breakfast-!”

Mihawk used his right leg to hook beneath a chair at your side and draw it close to him. His cocky smirk continued to hold against his lips as he continued gazing into your eyes, prompting you to roll them and chastise him with a click of your tongue. He drew it close to yours, sitting directly beside you and released one of your hands to collect your teacup and present it to you. 

“My, my lord,” you smirked, taking the teacup from his hand and raising it to your lips, “offering to serve a lowly governess at breakfast?” It was his turn to chastise you with the click of his tongue, tutting you at your personal degradation. 

“I thought I told you,” Mihawk began, choosing his next words by searching within his mind, “What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” You giggled, watching the corners of his eyes gather as his lips drew up into a small smile, “And we are far beyond simplistic roles, do you not agree?”

“Like the roles we chose for ourselves?” you offered the first extension of the relationship between your alter-egos to unmask between the two of you. He sighed, closing his eyes and bowing his head down in deep thought. 

“I never thought of you as a lady who was ever lost,” he whispered, his tone low and deliberate, “I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.” 

Sighing your laugh, feeling the physical weight fall from your shoulders as your smile elevated your lips with its relief, you drew yourself closer to your beau and placed your forehead against his own with your eyes shut tightly. 

“Does this mean I will no longer be receiving flowers from my beloved Farm-Hand, adorning an assortment of mud and grime?” you quipped at him, taking your bottom lip beneath your teeth. He huffed out a laugh of his own, withdrawing his forehead from yours and replacing it atop your brow with his lips. 

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.” 

—-----------------------

“I-I think I’ve done it,” the redhead captain exclaimed, his shaken right hand gathering the material beneath his hand and looking over it one last time, “I’ve done it! Becks! Becks!” 

Shank’s cries of glee echoed throughout the red-force, his crew alerted to his excitement and began gathering themselves at their posts. Beckman rose to his feet, beginning to direct the crew in their duties to prepare to board the pier of Kuraigana once again. 

“All hands! All hands on deck!” Shank’s voice called, his right hand waving a piece of parchment paper in absolute delight, “Hoist the colors, sound the alarms! We got to get the word to Hawk-Eyes! He marries on the morrow! Beckman, Becks-,” Shanks halted his feet, thrusting the parchment into the awaiting and overworked hands of his first-mate, “You reckon you could do that blindfolded, mate?” 

Benn Beckman straightened the parchment with an assortment of intricately composed directions with diagrams and mathematical equations correlating with the design. He frowned, eyeing the minute details and beginning to commit their paths to memory.

“As I said, Cap’n,” Beckman confirmed, meeting the hazel gaze of Shanks’ awaiting and hopeful face, “I will do my best for the lady.” Shanks clapped his hand over his shoulder and began making his way to address his crew as Beckman began visually putting together the guide and its make within his mind, practicing several intricate knots with the strands of the rope beside him. 

“The Vile Exterminator is getting married to the Hawk of Kuraigana! What a match!” Shanks cried in glee, the red-haired pirates cheering as they readied themselves to exit the ship and leave it behind to once more celebrate with the former rival of the captain.

“I will find your ring, Red-Haired Shanks,” Shanks’ smile dropped from his face as he snapped his head to seek out the voice, “I will find your ring and I will claim your soul as penance for your aid in keeping Mihawk’s from me.”

Shanks’ rubied eyes met with the cursed and haunting spectre of the ghoulish witch haunting his former rival and his former sailing companion. 

“Do your worst, witch,” he addressed the spectre, “I would sooner lay down my life than see those two part from one another. You should be happy! You’ve got what you wanted. They will be unified and your curse shall be lifted. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?”

The spectral woman, her hair thrashing and wild, snarled at him before her form dissipated from its place in front of him. Shanks mockingly snarled in return at the position the ghostly woman was prior, opting to pay her warning no mind as he began prematurely celebrating with his crew by opening a fresh keg of ale. Gathering his den-den-mushi to inform the bride and groom of his success in completing the task, he dialed after placing the receiver against his shoulder and waited for the other end to pick up.

“It’s done, Hawks. Congratulations, you marry on the morrow!”

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

MY SNAILS FINALLY ATE ANIMAL PROTEIN SO HAPPY CAN CRY do u know what pain n suffering had to endure just to make these little shits act like the omnivore they are

put piece of raw meat in tank for experiment. partly for isopods bc they need protein (should have gotten type that need less protein but still do).

my snails also need animal protein but all past try in feed them dried meal worms de-salted [type of shrimp] they just refuse eat. so basically for past year they not had any animal protein. whichuh. issue

it tiny piece of meat compare to snail but it also too big for 6 isopods eat all so think at least some of it ate by snails!!! hopefully

hope all 6 isopods n at least some snail ate some

gonna feed them more meat tonight !!!!

(know need more isopods but uhhh expensive so hope they breeding)

snail tax

[id: picture of giant african land snails (brown shell white body) try reeaaaach n climb over ledge of white pot. there another snail in background. end id]

[ducks-in-crocs]

hi!! could you write a sturniolo younger sister where she's in the sam and colby video with them? 💙

The Elevator Game

Summary - The triplets sister plays the elevator games

Pairing - The Sturniolo triplets x Sister!reader

Warnings - Ghost, Swearing

“Well there are two elevators, so maybe we should try to do a duel elevator game. One person in this one and one person in that one” Sams says with a little too much excitement.

“I already agreed to go by myself, so who gonna get in the other one” Matt questions.

“I think (y/n) should go since she's the most scared,” says Nick quickly to volunteer me, Chris agrees almost instantly.

“Umm well uh I guess” I agree, trying to keep my nerves at bay.

“You don't have to do it” Colby is quick to assure me, Sam quickly nodding in agreement.

“No, it's okay. I'll do” I agree, twiddling my thumbs. “Alright, here we go” I whisper to myself as I step into the open elevator.

“Wow not even gonna say goodbye to your brothers. You might never see us again” Nick states sarcastically. Giggling softly to myself, I quickly flick them all off before rushing to embrace my brothers in a quick hug. Letting go, I turn around and take a deep breath before stepping back into the elevator.

“Alright guy, let's go. Please take me to another world” I speak into the camera as I hit the button for the fourth floor. The door makes a clinking noise as doors shut, and the elevator hums to life. Arriving on the fourth floor, I quickly scan the hall as the doors open before hitting the number two button. As the doors were closing, I could have sworn could smell the faint scent of a cigar.

“ Okay, now time for the sixth floor” I softly speak as the elevator doors shut on the second floor. As I go to push the button, my ears perk up as a faint giggle fills the air. Freezing in place, standing in silence as I wait for another sound to pierce the air.

“ I don't know if you heard that on camera, but I could have sworn that there was a giggle,” I tell the camera with a shakey breath. “Alright guys, here we go” As the elevator roars to life, I feel a gentle tug on the back of my shirt. Goosebumps fill my arms as I whip around quickly, only to find nothing there.

“ Why, why, why did I agree to this” I speak breathlessly “You all can't tell, but something just tugged in my shirt” Dread fills my stomach as I hit the button floor two. The hairs on my body are standing straight up as the elevator begins, which descends to the second floor. Holding my breath as I wait for something that never comes, the ding of the elevator causes me to blow out a giant breath of air. I'm feeling a little better now. I confidently hit the number 10 button.

“You can do this. you're almost done” I gently reassure myself. The doors open for the 10th floor, and once again, the hallway is empty.

“ Do you guys think Matt is experiencing the same things as me?” I ask the camera.

“ Alright guys, now it's time for the 5th floor. Oh no, isn't that the floor the lady is supposed to get on? Please, please, please don't let there be a lady” I plea as I press the button. The Ovilus at my feet suddenly squeaks to life, spitting out the word “lady” “Oh my god, are you serious” I whisper shout as I point the camera toward the device. My breathing starts to get heavy as the doors start to slide open at a snail's pace. “Out” the device speaks again as the doors finally open. Relief feels my bones when I realize nobody's there.

“Alright last floor to go now, wish me luck” To my surprise, as my hand hovers over the button for the first floor, the elevator doors suddenly close, causing me to jump slightly.

“Exit now” the ovilus speaks as the doors reopen, silently watching as the doors close once more only to fall backwards in fright as I see the face of a blonde little girl staring back at me in the reflection of the metal.

Sitting the camera on the floor, I curl myself up in the corner, hands covering my face as my tears start to flow. Going unnoticed by me but caught through the lenses of the camera, the first-floor button turns orange as the elevator starts to descend, I barely notice that we have arrived at our final destination over the sounds of the near-silent pleas I'm releasing into the air, the voices of my concerned brothers pull me from my trance, as Nick wraps his arms around slowly easing me out of the elevator and on to the hallway floor.

Matt and Chris are quick to join us, rubbing comforting circles onto my back while all three of them whisper soft words of encouragement. As I try to stop the tears from flowing.

“Is she okay?” Sam asked as he and Colby watched the four siblings.

“I'm not sure. She isn't saying much. Maybe check the camera and see if there are any clues on there?” Matt suggests. Colby nods before starting to go over the footage.

“ holy fucking shit” Colby exclaims as he turns the camera around to show the five others, in the still screen of the camera you could see in the reflection of the metal doors the faint image of a small blond child.

[ Thanks for the request, I apologize if this is not what you had in mind and that it mostly focuses on the reader experience and doesn't really involve the other people in the story that much. I would also like to apologize for how long it took me to write your request. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy - ducky ]

[bestanimal]

Round 2.5 - Platyhelminthes - “Turbellaria”

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Unfortunately, “Turbellaria” is a paraphyletic class and is no longer valid. Many of the orders within this group are more closely related to their parasitic cousins than to each other. While I am doing my best to avoid paraphyly in this tournament, there are many groups formerly within Turbellaria that have not been assigned a higher classification yet, and I do not want to leave them out. So for now, this is an oddball poll that includes the unrelated orders Bothrioplanida, Gnosonesimida, Polycladida, Prolecithophora, Prorhynchida, Proseriata, Rhabdocoela, Tricladida, Macrostomida, Dolichomicrostomida, the family Haplopharyngidae, and the genera Bradynectes and Myozona.

That being said, this is a group that encompasses the “free-living flatworms” that do not live parasitic lifestyles.

Like all platyhelminths, turbellarians have no internal body cavity and lack specialized circulatory and respiratory organs, so gas exchange is by simple diffusion. They are either microscopic or are flat and ribbon- or leaf-shaped, and vulnerable to fluid loss, so are relegated to aquatic or moist environments. Their body is filled with mesenchyme, a connective tissue that can regenerate injured tissues and permits asexual reproduction. The nervous system is concentrated at the head end. Most turbellarians are predators or scavengers, and terrestrial species are mostly nocturnal and live in shaded humid locations such as leaf litter or rotting wood. Carnivorous turbellarians usually have an eversible pharynx that can be extended by being turned inside-out, and the mouths of different species can be anywhere along the underside. However some are symbiotes of other animals such as crustaceans, and some are parasites. Small aquatic species use cilia for locomotion, while larger ones use muscular movements of the whole body or of a specialized sole to creep or swim. Some are capable of burrowing, anchoring their rear ends at the bottom of the burrow, then stretching the head up to feed and then pulling it back down for safety. Some terrestrial species throw a thread of mucus which they use as a rope to climb from one leaf to another.

All turbellarians are simultaneous hermaphrodites, having both female and male reproductive cells, and fertilize eggs internally by copulation. Some of the larger aquatic species mate by “penis fencing”, a duel in which each tries to impregnate the other, and the loser adopts the female role of developing the eggs. Unusually among animals, in most species, the sperm cells have two tails, rather than one. In most species miniature adults emerge when the eggs hatch, but a few large species produce plankton-like larvae. Many turbellarians can also clone themselves by transverse or longitudinal division, and others may reproduce by budding.

Turbellarians, or at least free-living Platyhelminths, emerged in the Middle Triassic.

Propaganda under the cut:

Planarian flatworms can regenerate new heads, tails, or entire bodies thanks to their vast amounts of pluripotent stem cells, cells that can essentially become any cell in the body.

Two planarian species were successfully introduced to the Philippines, Indonesia, Hawaii, New Guinea, and Guam to control populations of the invasive Giant African Snail (Achatina fulica), which was displacing native snails. (However, they ended up also being a threat to the native snails, who woulda thunk)

Some planarians are being used for mosquito control. These species can live in artificial containers that attract mosquitoes, so they are less likely to become invasive themselves.

Land planarians tend to get a bad rap due to several invasive species, but there are over 830 other species of land planarian who are just doing their thing

The freshwater species Microstomum caudatum can open its mouth almost as wide as its body is long, to swallow prey as large as itself.

Marine flatworms can detect approaching threats via light and dark sensitive cells on their pseudotentacles (the little folds on their heads that look like eyestalks.) They basically mimic having eyes and it works

Many marine flatworms mimic poisonous nudibranchs (which are molluscs) and some terrestrial flatworms mimic venomous snakes (which are chordates), both animals which are very very far removed from flatworms

Many tropical flatworms can be just so, so beautiful:

Flat Freak Fursday

[10piecechickenmcnugget]

(hi chat. i wrote a fic about oli cameo-ing in wild life. it’s about 1k words. lizzie jimmy and scar are in it. it gets a little sad. i hope you enjoy it)

Oli snickered at the absolutely dumbfounded expression currently being given to him by none other than Jimmy Solidarity.

“Hiya Tim. Did you miss me?”

Jimmy continued to stare with his jaw halfway to the void. “What- you- you’re not- how are you here?”

Oli just grins, sitting back and crossing his legs with what he hopes is an annoyingly smug expression. Judging by the way Jimmy’s eyes flash, it’s working.

“I’m just that special. Being practically god and all, I thought I should pay a visit to my sweet sweet boy.” Oli waves a hand, tilting his head. Jimmy looks cute when he’s confused.

“Does Grian know you’re here?”

Oli grins. “Who do you think invited me?”

If Jimmy wasn’t in shock before, he certainly is now. “Grian. Brought you. Here. To his death games.”

Oli swings his legs absently. “Someone had to write a song for that little trivia bot. 2 of them, actually. In one day. Not sure how I pulled that one off, not to mention the snails.”

Jimmy dissolves into a fit of nonsensical babbling, and Oli can’t help but it burst into laughter again. While Jimmy processes this, Oli decides it’s about time he takes a look around. He hops off the block he’s sitting on, spinning around slowly to take in Jim’s base.

It’s cutesy, he decides, and almost painfully familiar. The cherry theming, the hilltop location, the giant animal statues. It always comes back to death and canaries, somehow. Oli can’t figure out how Jimmy keeps getting away with this. He walks slowly, dramatically sweeping around to take everything in. Listening to cherry petals shift under his feet and trying to drown out the phantom sound of explosions in his head. Jimmy has stopped talking, and is staring at him as he wanders. Oli flashes him a smile. Jim just looks apprehensive.

Oli doesn’t blame him. He’s not supposed to be here, even by Grian’s standards. And mathematically, Oli has an infinite amount of kills per death games he’s been in. He’s not a player, and as such he can’t die. He’s immune to Grian’s wildcards and rules. He’s practically a god, in a way, which is not really something he’s ever experienced. It would be more fun if he was allowed to stay. Maybe he can write another song.

Deciding there isn’t much more to look at, Oli turns fully to Jimmy. It’s uncomfortably quiet. Oli is about to make another quip when the silence is broken.

“Oli? What on earth are you doing here?”

If Oli thought seeing Jimmy messed with his head, hearing Lizzie calling out for him is like a shot to the brain. Even so, he can’t help but smile as he turns around to meet her.

“Lizzie!”

She runs up the hill towards him, slightly out of breath, transparent wings twitching in an all too familiar way. She pauses a few paces away, shooting him a grin.

“I knew those stupid snails sounded familiar. Joel recognized you first. How did you even get here?”

Pretending the mention of Joel doesn’t make him want to explode, Oli just shrugs. “Grian invited me. Voiced some snails, made some songs, and thought I’d come by and cause problems before he kicks me out again.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “To be honest, I’m surprised he hasn’t.”

“Well, I am technically God now, so…”

“Is that right.” Smoothing out her dress, Lizzie moves closer, forming a small triangle with the three of them. Jimmy still looks befuddled and Lizzie has that same mischievous glint in her eyes she always does, and Oli is suddenly very homesick. Is that even the right word? Home is where the heart is, or something.

“Yep! 100%, genuine, certified, bona fide God. Can’t die, and my snails wreaked havoc like none other.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“So,” Oli claps his hands together. “This is your guys’s base? Very cherry-esque. Draw inspiration from anyone?”

Lizzie puts her hands on her hips. “Hey! Pink has been my thing since we were kids. Cherry biomes were made for me. I’ve been making cherry wood houses since before your stupid hog.”

“How dare you!” Oli gasps, putting a hand over his chest. “My hog was not stupid, he was magnificent. And pink was my thing too! I had pink hair for a while there, remember?”

“Yeah, cause of me! I’m the only reason you dye your hair at all! And besides, you don’t even die it pink anymore after-”

Lizzie cuts herself off suddenly, eyes wide, and Oli freezes in place. Jimmy looks taken aback by the sudden tension, looking nervously between the two of them.

After what feels like years, Oli exhales. “… Yeah. Alright. Pink is your thing.”

“Oli…”

Oli turns around suddenly, walking purposefully towards the large birds marking the front of their base. He adjusts the little green halo floating just above his hair, which is notably not pink. “These are cute.”

Lizzie, forever hyperaware of Oli’s incessant need to avoid his problems, just sighs. “Aren’t they?”

And just like that, it never even happened. Jimmy eventually realizes he’s never getting any answers, and joins in the banter, helping Lizzie take Oli on an official tour of their base. Eventually Scar returns, resulting in a 20 minute long argument that ends with Lizzie half dragging Oli down the hill and towards the cave BAM has claimed as their own. Lizzie bitterly shows him where her snail first made an attempt on her life, and Oli’s apology is ruined by the fact that he can’t stop snickering.

Eventually Lizzie drags him back up to the surface, and all too fast for Oli’s liking it’s nightfall. Scar unhelpfully comments that they’ll need their sleep to deal with whatever horrors will happen next session, and that Grian will probably be on Oli’s case soon.

Reluctantly, Oli says his goodbyes. And if he hugs Lizzie just a little too long, she doesn’t comment on it. And if his heart isn’t quite in the jokes he makes at Jimmy’s expense, no one says anything.

He doesn’t really know where he’s going. He’s not entirely sure how he got there at all, to be honest. He supposes he’ll have to track down Grian and ask. He doesn’t want to leave, he’s getting awfully tired of finally finding his friends just to lose them again.

Maybe Grian will add him to the next season.

[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates! - Complete

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3

Steve wasn’t gonna act on it. 

Eddie had just gotten out of a bad fucking relationship, he was still finding himself.

He was enjoying himself kissing strangers.

And Steve was around all the time so it was probably just a proximity thing.

A safety thing. 

Maybe. 

He didn’t know.

The only thing he did know was that if Robin heard him thinking like that she’d probably dunk his head in cold water and tell him to stop being purposefully obtuse.

He frowned. 

He wasn’t being obtuse.

He was just… he couldn’t make sense of why Eddie would be interested in him.

They were… they were roommates who had always been at each other's throats. 

Everything they did irritated each other. 

There was tension in the apartment, but that was because of the… because of the animosity.

Right?

Right.

Steve frowned to himself, leaning up against the counter of the coffee shop. 

It was a slow evening, things moving at a snail's pace and all he wanted to do was go home but he was stuck here for another hour at least.

Eddie was at home and while he would find it more difficult to figure things out between them when he was surrounded by him, at least he wouldn’t be at work.

“I can smell your hair frying.” Robin poked at him, passing by on her way out towards the staff room. She was finished her shift now. She got to go home.

Steve scowled at her. 

“Don’t say such terrible things about my hair.”

He couldn’t see it but he could feel her eye roll through the back of her head as she disappeared out the door. 

He turned his gaze back down to the floor, his arms crossed in front of him and he had nearly gone back to his glazed over thinking state when a figure passed by in front of the counter.

He looked up and felt a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hi Chrissy.”

Chrissy grinned up at him, golden hair bouncing around her shoulders, a vision in preppy pastels. 

“Hi Steve.”

“What can I get you?”

“Oh, um,” Chrissy’s face went a little red, “I’m not actually here for coffee. I’m here to pick up-”

“Chris!” 

Steve turned his laser gaze onto Robin as she bounced out of the staff room doorway, a wide smile on her face.

It was the tone of voice she used to say Chrissy’s name. 

That was her enamoured tone.

He narrowed his eyes at her, arms still crossed over her chest.

Well, well, well. 

He could see Robin’s shoulders tensing, her back to him and he knew that she knew that he knew.

He put on his best pathetic frown as she turned to face him, apprehension in her eyes that quickly dropped into an eye roll when she saw his face. 

Without another word she left him behind the counter on his own, her nose in the air as an over the top dramatic gesture to tell him she didn’t care if he knew now, but that was a lie, it was all a out on act, to keep the mood light and to try and offset any bad feelings about this.

Steve didn’t need to know why she had kept the relationship a secret. If he could take a guess and he would, it would be that both she and Chrissy didn’t feel like treading through the minefield that was telling their respective besties that they were dating, especially when those respective besties were roommates who hated each other.

Or well.

Roommates who pretended to hate each other but in actuality had big giant crushes on each other and were refusing to act on it for some reason. 

Well, Steve knew why he wasn’t acting on it. Whatever about Eddie’s reasons, Steve knew that he was still in a little bit of denial about it. 

They had been so contentious with each other for such a long time, where was the guarantee that it wasn’t all going to fall apart once the lust was gotten out of the way?

Say they did fuck about it?

What then?

Would they go their own separate ways?

Would they have to continue to live with each other and the awkwardness of what just happened until neither of them could bear it anymore and they went their separate ways never to talk again?

Or what if… What if it did work?

What if they actually… like… worked together. 

What then?

Steve would have to admit to everyone that he was wrong about Eddie, about how irritated he was about him and how much he didn’t pay attention to him.

But Eddie would also have to admit he was wrong about Steve.

Eddie would have to admit he didn’t find Steve as detestable as he had said he had in the past. He’d have to admit he liked Steve.

He’d have to admit that he was wrong.

Along with Steve. 

Steve tapped his finger against his bicep, arms crossed as he stared at Chrissy and Robin cuddled up together in a back booth, not really seeing them, things running too quickly through his head to really even be seeing them.

“You gonna jump on that yet, dude?” A hand came down to clap on his shoulder and Steve jumped. Mark cut his eyes over to Robin and Chrissy then back to him.

Steve had to suppress an eye roll.

“Yeah, I’ll jump right on it.” He replied, thinking of stupid brown curls and stupid big bambi eyes and stupid fingers and rings and tattoos. 

Okay, that may have been a lie.

He didn’t jump right on it. 

He had gotten home from work and found Eddie stretched across the couch with a book in his lap and a steaming mug of tea next to him and Steve could do nothing but frown.

He had stalked straight over to put his hands on his hips and glare down at Eddie who slowly dragged his eyes up from his book with the kind of laziness that screamed of him doing it on purpose just to be a bitch about it. 

“Can I help you, sweetums?”

Steve didn’t respond, just continued to glare, pointedly picking Eddie’s mug up and slipping a coaster underneath, never once breaking eye contact before gesturing to it with the kind of flamboyant limp wristed flare that was almost comical.

Eddie just watched him with a deadpan stare.

“Oh yes, of course.” He said with batting eyelashes. “We must keep the coffee table that I found at the side of the road in pristine condition.”

“It wouldn’t fucking kill you, would it?”

“Maybe not my body, honey. But my soul would be languishing.” 

“Then let it languish. And put a fucking coaster down. No one is going to take away your tortured poets card for it, Dickinson.”

Steve turned on his heel and stormed out to his room, ignoring Eddie’s scoff at his back.

Like, what else was he supposed to do after that?

Just kiss him?

He didn’t think Eddie would have reacted very well to him just climbing into his lap.

Though maybe he would have. 

Steve would never know, because he didn’t do it. 

And he wasn’t going to do it. 

“Have you kissed him yet?”

Steve closed his eyes and rapped himself a few times on the forehead with the handset of the phone before taking a big breath and bringing it back to his ear.

“No, Robert, I haven’t.”

“Don’t hit me with Robert, Stevana, just because you can’t get your dick out of your pants when you want to.”

“Who says I want to?”

“I do.” Robin growled through the phone. “I am the other half of your soul, bitch I know you want to.”

Steve frowned and though Robin couldn’t see it, he was pretty sure she could just sense it. Like he was sending vibes through the phone.

He heard her open her mouth again and he cut her off before she could continue to tell him things he knew but didn’t want to hear.

“Moving on. We were talking about how much I can tell my head-wrecking roommate about your current…” he gleaned around, even though he was pretty sure Eddie was still fast asleep in his room. “Situation.”

“Situation.” Robin huffed. “It’s not a situation, it’s a relationship.”

“Oh wow, really?” Steve snarked back, letting the sarcasm flow freely. “I had no idea. Oh my god, a relationship. Oh gosh-golly-gee. A relationship. Well let me ring the wedding bells, oh happy day, my girl is getting married.”

“Fuck off, Steven.” Robin snapped back, even though she was clearly smiling. 

“Who’s getting married?”

Steve jumped and turned his head to find Eddie right next to him. 

He could feel the heat radiating off his body, still sleep warm. His smell was concentrated, a hundred percent Eddie, strong from hours spent cosy under the sheets, smelling like comfort and cotton and something completely indescribable that only he had. 

His eyes were still a little heavy and a little dazed, his hair was a mess, somehow defying gravity and the oversized shirt he’d worn to bed was slipping down, exposing one shoulder, hanging loose off of his frame and Steve had the almost irresistible impulse just to hug him, as ridiculous as that sounded. 

He very quickly snapped his head back to stare at the wall and he said, almost robotically into the phone, “Eddie’s right next to me.”

“Don’t tell him anything!” She screeched out, so loud that Steve could see Eddie’s mouth curl up in a grin, latching onto information he now knew he wasn’t supposed to have.

“What can’t you tell me, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pressing himself closer, right up against Steve, trying to get his hearing within range of the phone.

Steve felt his breath catching ever so slightly, Eddie’s warmth was seeping into him through his clothes, how was he still so warm? The long line of his lean body up against him and a hand clasped around his wrist to pull the phone a little closer and Steve was going insane.

“Steven, hang up the phone right now!” Robin screeched again, knowing, somehow knowing that Steve was in danger of letting everything spill out if Eddie only asked right or that she herself, as nervous and jittery as she was, would accidentally blurt it out. “Hang u-!”

Steve slammed his free hand down on the switchhook, immediately cutting Robin off as the dial tone rang out.

Eddie dropped himself back down onto his heels. He had a little petulant frown on his face and he was batting those long fucking eyelashes again, but Steve was sure he didn’t even know he was doing it this time.

“You’re no fun.” Eddie said, with a pushed out bottom lip that Steve was suddenly and wildly desperate to get into his mouth. 

“It’s not my information to tell.” Steve muttered back, holding out the handset to Eddie. “You’re off work today, right?”

Eddie blinked at him, his eyebrows crinkled up in confusion and a little apprehension as he took it from Steve’s hand.

“Yeah?”

Steve nodded. 

“Call Chrissy.”

Eddie’s eyebrows immediately flew up in alarm and Steve had to rush to reassure him. 

“Nothing’s wrong!” He said, squeezing his hands around Eddie’s shoulders. “You just… she needs to talk to you about something.”

“That definitely doesn’t sound like nothing’s wrong.”

“No, it’s…” He rubbed his hands down Eddie’s arms until he was grasping him gently around the elbows. “It’s good news.”

Eddie searched his eyes for a moment before looking down at where Steve was still touching him and then looking back up with slightly pink cheeks. 

Steve felt his own face heating up and he snatched his hands back. When had he started touching Eddie, what the hell?

“Y- yeah.” He said, taking a step back. “Good news. So you should- just call her, I guess.” 

And with that, he turned his back, practically running back into his room and slamming the door behind him, throwing himself down on his bed and all but screaming into his pillow.

“They’re together.”

Eddie slammed his way back into the apartment and Steve had to press his fingers into his temples at the pure irritation coming out of him because remember to close the fucking door softly like a normal person for Christs sake!

“They’re together.” Eddie hissed again, throwing himself down into the chair at the dining table across from Steve. “And she didn’t tell me.”

“She just told you, you fucking drama queen.”

Eddie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve could hear him bouncing his leg, rattling the chains he constantly had hanging off of him. “Yeah. Because your good Judy told you first even though they both know you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Okay.” Steve sat up straighter, leaning his elbows on the table and pointed at Eddie. “One. Robin did not tell me. I saw what I saw when they were both in front of me at the coffee shop and I inferred. Correctly. So keep your hair on. And two,” he raised a second finger, “I’m great at keeping secrets-”

“No, you’re not.” Eddie snapped back with his hands flat against the table.

“Yes, I am!”

“Really, Mary?”

“Yes, really!”

“What secrets are you keeping right now?”

Steve sucked his lips into his mouth.

I’m keeping secrets like I want to stick my tongue down your throat.

I want you to rip the clothes from my body and devour me whole.

I want you to stick your dick in my ass or my mouth.

I want to bend you over the couch and make you scream.

They were leaning over the table towards each other, the both of them bent at the waist and snarling. Steve blinked before heavily lowering himself back down to his chair.

“Nothing.”

But Eddie’s expression was wild and bright, a grin spreading over his face and he leaned even further forward.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about! You look like you’re fit to burst. You’re hiding something.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Steve frowned, refusing to entertain the interrogation any further. He stood, bringing his coffee cup over to the sink.

“Are you mad at them for being together or for not telling us straight away?”

He could hear Eddie sit back down behind him.

“Me and Chrissy don’t hide things from each other.”

“And Robin and I don’t hide things from each other.” Steve said, scrubbing out the inside of his cup. “But what was going to happen if they did tell us? We’d all just sit around and kiki together, have a gay old time in each other's company? They know how we feel about each other.”

“And how do we feel about each other, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, digging in.

Steve felt his whole body stiffen up and he knew Eddie’s eyes were boring into the back of his head.

“We don’t like each other.” He replied, almost automatically. 

Eddie hummed in consideration and it sounded a little closer than it had before.

“We don’t like each other.” Eddie repeated.

Steve turned his head to find Eddie leaning up against the dining table, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes snapping back up to meet Steve’s own a little too late from where they had been resting, firmly on his lovely bottom, if Steve had to guess.

Eddie watched as Steve watched him, the both of them staring in hard and deep, tension pulling tight like a string ready to snap, the lie of we don’t like each other reverberating around them in the silence. 

Something was starting to catch fire between them, Steve was starting to feel like he could hardly breathe when the shrill ringing of the phone broke it.

He exhaled, actually exhaled like the breath had been stolen from his body when Eddie’s eyes finally left his and he turned to walk down the hallway and pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

Steve couldn’t hear what was being said on the other line but he saw Eddie’s body sag against the wall. 

“No, I’m not mad at you, Chrissy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted that way.”

Steve breathed in deep, clearing out his lungs and his head and left Eddie to have his conversation alone.

It honestly took a lot longer than he thought it would.

He could hear their quiet muttering for well over an hour and when he slipped out of the room to head out to the bathroom when he thought they’d finally finished, he found Eddie curled up comfortably on the floor with the phone cradled to his ear with the most bashful grin on his face, practically twisting his hair around his finger, like a stereotypical girl gabbing with her girlfriends. 

Eddie’s gaze snapped up to him, those wide brown doe eyes stared at him like he’d been caught out, his plush mouth going slack before snapping closed and his face lit up bright red.

He clutched the phone tight to his chest like Steve was about to snatch it out of his hands and find out his biggest secrets.

The hallway wasn’t terribly wide, so Steve was forced to step around Eddie, towering over him while he made his way around with one raised eyebrow. Eddie’s face got somehow even redder and Steve could hear him giggling down the phone as he closed the bathroom door.

The same thing happened just in reverse on his way back, Eddie still red faced and no longer able to keep his wide smile off his face while he hissed into the phone “Shut up, shut up.”

Just before Steve closed his bedroom door he could hear Eddie snap out with a false irritation “You’re gonna get me caught. And then what’ll happen, Chris?”

Steve didn’t know what Chrissy said in response but the screech that Eddie let out was enough to give him an idea.

He couldn’t help his own blush burning up his face after that one. 

If he was honest with himself he wasn’t brave enough to come out of his room for a while after that, but he did wrestle with the temptation to press himself up against his bedroom door and try to strain to hear anything that he could.

He eventually crammed a pair of headphones on and threw himself back onto his bed after the floor creaked loudly under him when he ventured a little too close. 

The rest of the week following… whatever it was that was happening between them had been a little stranger than usual.

There was the usual sniping and bitching but it almost always ended with one of them making a quick retreat after their faces got a little too red and they were staring at each other with blown pupils and short breaths.

It was driving him up the fucking wall.

He was playing it as cool as he could but he was getting to the point now where he was questioning why he was fighting it so hard.

Steve grumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses and snapping out the newspaper in front of him, comfortable and settled on the couch. 

He tensed a little when he felt Eddie hovering like he’d taken to doing before and he wondered if he’d have to put up with the disappointment of telling Eddie he looked good for another night out of kissing strangers when all he really wanted to do was tell him that he could stay home and maybe kiss Steve if that’s what he wanted.

He frowned down at the words printed in front of him and did his best to ignore the burning stare he could feel Eddie giving him, waiting to be acknowledged, even as he heard the little huff of irritation, the fabric rustling as he crossed his arms, Steve refused to look up.

He was forced to look up, however, when the newspaper was snatched out of his hands. He turned his eyes up to glare but it was undercut by his surprise when Eddie swung a leg over and planted himself directly in Steve’s lap, knees either side of his thighs and arms slung around his neck.

The look in his eyes was almost challenging,

“Tell me I’m reading this wrong.”

Steve chose to maintain his glare but he still reached his hands out to grab at Eddie’s ass and pull him closer.

“No.”

Eddie settled his weight more firmly down across Steve’s thighs.

“Well, are you going to do something about it then?”

“And if I don’t?”

Eddie’s face split into a grin. “Oh,” he cooed with a little bite to his voice, “she’s feeling catty today.”

“Jesus Christ, shut up.”

Steve surged forward, finally, finally being able to get his mouth on those fucking lips he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks now.

It had been a while since Steve had kissed anyone. Not that he’d minded, really. It was a choice he had made for himself and he’d been happy with it.

But kissing Eddie was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. 

He dove right in, nothing tentative or unsure about it, pulling Eddie’s body in close until they were flush with each other, pressing him in with enough force that it was surely making it a little difficult to breathe but he didn’t care and it seemed that Eddie didn’t either.

Eddie met him with just as much fervour. Maybe a little more, grabbing Steve by the hair and pulling him in, not giving him an inch to pull away.

His tongue wound its way into Steve’s mouth, dragging it over his own, licking in as deep as it could reach.

Steve closed his lips around it and sucked, pulling a surprised and ragged moan from Eddie’s chest that Steve quickly swallowed down along with the rest.

He felt feral, unhinged, like he wanted to devour him whole.

Which is probably why he chased after Eddie’s mouth with nothing short of a growl when he pulled away.

“Calm your tits, big boy. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not be.”

“I’m not. I…” Eddie’s fingers softened against the back of his head and he pulled his plump and shiny bottom lip into his mouth, a little hesitant.

“You..?” Steve prodded.

“I- you don’t do casual anymore, right?” He questioned, almost as if he expected Steve to turn around and say that he was just kissing Eddie for fun.

Which, like, he was. It was fun but that wasn’t the only reason.

“Right.”

“Okay. Good. Great, even.” Eddie looked down, apparently unable to handle looking Steve in the eye at that moment. “Because I don’t want casual with you.”

Steve removed a hand from Eddie’s ass, but only one. He was still human after all. He brought the hand up to brush along Eddie’s jaw, tipping his head back up to look at him. “I hadn’t intended on anything between us being casual.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him, a bright fire of confidence seemed to overtake him again. 

The two of them were always pushing and pulling at each other, but it was less snappish animosity now and more snappy playfulness.

“Oh, so you’ve been giving this thought, have you?” Eddie leaned in a little further, ghosting his lips over Steve’s, leaving tingles in his wake and pulling back when Steve moved forward. “How long have you been thinking of me, sweetheart?”

“Far too fucking long for you to be teasing me right now.”

“Awh.” Eddie’s fingers curled into the hair at the back of his head again. “What are you going to do about it, sweetheart?”

“Nothing you don’t want me to do.” Steve was trying to stop his eyes fluttering closed and giving into the urge to either slam Eddie back into the couch or completely melt under his touch, because he had to let Eddie know.

He had to make sure Eddie knew he was safe with him because he still hadn’t forgotten, could never forget the state Eddie had come home in all that time ago.

“I’m not- I want you to tell me what you’re comfortable with.” Steve would have preferred if it had come out more solid and not as breathy as it had been but the sentiment was still there.

Eddie had frozen up for just a moment, his eyes wide and mouth slightly parted but Steve could feel it the second he started to melt on top of him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Any time, baby.”

Eddie moved forward, leaning back in to continue kissing him but halted again, just a hair's breadth away.

“You’re not married are you?”

“No, Eds.” Steve grinned back. “I’m not married.”

“Okay good. Just checking.”

Any response Steve wanted to give was cut off when Eddie kissed him, hot and feverish and hungry.

Eddie was giving him all these little nips and bites, against his lips, over his jaw, down his neck. He sucked bruises into Steve’s skin like his life depended on it, always pressing a finger in as soon as he moved away until Steve was pretty sure he’d practically been given a necklace of hickies.

He had his hands under Eddie’s shirt, feeling the goosebumps rise up as he teased his touch over his skin, trying to find every little bump and divot he could figure out by feel alone.

Then he was being pulled away. 

Eddie’s hands were on his upper arms, spreading them wide and pushing them back until he had them stretched over the back of the couch.

“Keep those there for me, would you, honey?”

Steve blinked at him, trying to clear the fog from his head as Eddie stood. He dug his fingers into the back of the couch with a nod.

He was rewarded with a smile, a devious little thing that he knew would be the death of him, but he welcomed it regardless.

Eddie lowered himself to his knees, reaching for the buttons of Steve’s jeans before stopping.

“You okay with this?”

“Yes, yeah, Jesus fuck.” Steve dropped his head back, the sight of Eddie lording it over him while in between his legs was one of the most obscenely hot things he’d ever seen and he had no fucking idea how he was going to survive for longer than half a second inside his mouth.

There was a moment of relief as his zipper was pulled down, his painfully hard and dripping cock finally given some room to breathe, no longer constrained by denim.

Eddie dug his fingers into the waistband of Steve’s jeans and boxers.

“Up.”

Steve lifted his hips without complaint and in one swift movement, Eddie had his pants and underwear stripped down his legs until they were tangled around his ankles.

Leaning back in with a hungry look in his eye, Eddie placed a hand on either of Steve’s knees and pushed until they were spread as wide open as they could possibly be.

“Normally I’d tease you until you could barely remember where you were but I’m just feeling too damn impatient right now, big boy.”

With a merciless grip, Eddie wound his hand tight around Steve’s cock, licking a stripe up the length, digging his tongue into the vein at the back.

“As long-“ Steve gasped as Eddie started flicking his tongue over the head, “as long as I get to do this to you after.”

“Stevie-” he grinned, brushing his lips against Steve’s cock, “it would be my honour to let you suck my dick.”

“Eddie.” Steve breathed, letting his head fall back against the cushions, already so fucking close and barely holing on by a thread while Eddie continued to tease him.

Eddie sucked the tip of Steve’s cock into his mouth and gave a hum of a question, the vibrations crackling through Steve’s blood like an electric shock, jolting his hips upwards without his say so.

They were forced back down with a fiery glare and Eddie’s fingers digging into his flesh.

“Eddie,” Steve moaned again, unable to do anything else, squirming under his hold, “please.”

Eddie’s eyes rolled up ever so slightly, his own moan of pleasure following immediately after.

“God.” Eddie almost whispered out, letting his lips brush against the raw red tip of Steve’s cock. “Love hearing you beg, sweetheart. Do it again.”

Steve tried to swallow his whine down but it still came out, high and breathy and slutty.

Fine.

If Eddie wanted him to beg, he’d beg so pretty.

“Baby.” Steve whined, gripping at the couch cushions even harder. “Please. I need your mouth. Please, baby, please.”

Eddie grinned up at him. “Good boy.”

The words shot through him, hitting him right in the dick, the brain, the heart and he couldn’t help the “oh, fuck” that came out of his mouth when Eddie suddenly swallowed him down whole, right to the back of his throat.

With his hips pinned down he could do nothing but writhe in place, keeping his arms firmly across the back of the couch while Eddie sucked his entire soul out of his body through his dick.

“Baby, I’m gonna- if you don’t want-”

He was cut off when Eddie all but growled around him, taking him down as deep as he could, swallowing around him, locking him in tight and fuck it had been a while since Steve had anyone else’s hands on him, let alone their mouth and he fucking exploded.

With an embarrassingly thready cry, he came straight into the back of Eddie’s throat, hearing him gag a little at the suddenness of it which only made him cum harder.

Eddie’s eyes were closed in bliss as he rhythmically swallowed and Steve knew the feeling well. As soon as he was able to move his fucking legs again, he’d repay the goddamn favour and show him just what a reformed slut could do.

Eddie didn’t let up when he was spent though, continuing to suck and lick at him like he had nowhere else to be, until Steve had to squirm away, too sensitive and too eager to let it go on for much longer.

“How long has it been since someone touched you?” Eddie asked, resting his cheek against Steve’s thigh, a blissed out smile on his face. 

“A while.” Steve said, still a little breathless, running a hand through Eddie’s hair. “A good long while.”

“Shame.”

“Mhm. C’mere.”

With a gentle grip, Steve pulled him back up onto the couch, unable to stop himself from kissing him again, licking into his mouth and tasting himself there, though there was very little taste left. Apparently Eddie was diligent about getting all of it down his throat.

Steve kicked his pants off while Eddie unbuckled his own, lying back against the length of the couch, his hair fanned around his face and looking absolutely delicious.

The shape and size of the bulge in Eddie’s jeans slowly being revealed was already making Steve desperate to get his mouth on it. 

He let Eddie wiggle his own pants and boxers down without help. He didn’t want to touch until he was told he could. He still wanted to make sure Eddie knew he was in safe hands. 

Eddie met his gaze with soft eyes and a syrupy sweet smile. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

Steve grinned back, lowering himself down to his elbows in between Eddie’s legs, snaking a hand around each of Eddie’s thighs using it as leverage to pull him closer. He hovered his mouth over Eddie’s dick, just the suggestion of a touch, fanning his breath over him and copying what was done to him earlier.

He licked a stripe up the back and dug his tongue in before reaching up to grab at Eddie’s wrist and brought his ring-clad hand to rest over the back of his head. 

“Fuck my face.” Steve breathed up at him, mouth hovering over the tip, still not putting it in his mouth.

Eddie’s fingers tightened and his wide eyes, blown as black as they were, had somehow grown even wider. 

“Shit, okay. You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Eddie gripped his own cock in his free hand and held it steady while Steve opened his mouth waiting. 

He pushed Steve’s head down slowly, keeping his own hips still, testing the water, his breathing coming faster the deeper and deeper Steve took him without complaint.

He felt the tip of Eddie’s cock slip into his throat, settling there and Steve’s eyelids fluttered, his whole body going slack with the feeling, god he’d missed this.

Eddie only let him settle there for a second before he started to pull Steve back up about halfway, then began to move his hips up and down, fucking into his mouth and when Steve let out the most whorish of ragged moans, Eddie started to push his head down to meet his thrusts.

Steve considered himself a dick sucking champion. He’d mastered all of the tricks in his slut years and was determined to put them all to good use now, even as blissed the fuck out as he was he alternated between holding his mouth open and sucking, flicking his tongue around and keeping it flat.

Eddie was a mess of strung together curses above him and his rabbiting hips were quickly losing their rhythm, striking against the back of Steve’s throat with a force that had him sinking and sinking and sinking.

Steve’s head was forced back down one last time, his nose being crushed into Eddie’s pelvis and he could feel the cum shooting down his throat with a suddenness that seemed to take them both by surprise. 

Steve swallowed like a champ if he did say so himself, letting Eddie’s softening cock slip out of his mouth when he turned his head to nuzzle into the join of his hip while Eddie gently tried to smooth out the hair he’d tugged at.

“Come up here.” Eddie muttered, pulling lightly at Steve’s jaw to get him to look up. Steve groaned but did as he was told, slithering up Eddie’s body until he was squished in between his side and the back of the couch, face pressed into Eddie’s neck, sleepy and content, being held tight by arms locked around him.

He’d almost drifted off when Eddie turned his head slightly, brushing his cheek against Steve’s forehead. 

“Hey Stevie?”

“Mhm?”

“I really like you.”

Steve felt a sleepy grin pull at the corners of his mouth and he pressed a kiss into the thin skin at Eddie’s neck.

“Really like you too.” He yawned, coming out as more of a huff when Eddie squeezed him tight halfway through.

“Think you’d be more comfy in a bed?”

Steve shrugged, not really wanting to move but knowing his back would be very unhappy with him in the morning if he did sleep here. 

“Suppose.”

Eddie buried his nose into Steve’s hair for a moment, squeezing him tight again, just once before they both started to shuffle their way up, leaving their discarded pants by the couch and stripping off what was left of their clothes as Eddie led him by the hand into his room, where they fell naked and syrupy sweet into bed together, nodding off almost immediately.

Steve woke up to early morning light spilling in through a crack in the curtains, hair in his face and a warm body squirming against him.

He could feel Eddie’s heartbeat under his hand, rapid and jumping while he shifted his hips around, trying not to wake Steve up but Steve was now awake in every sense of the word.

His morning wood was pressed directly in between Eddie’s cheeks and Eddie was rocking back and forth like he couldn’t stop himself. 

Steve pulled him in tighter, feeling desire lick through him at the short gasp of air Eddie let out when he realised Steve was awake.

“You want something, baby?”

His voice was rough from sleep, low and rumbling and Eddie ground his ass back into Steve’s cock even harder.

“Y-yeah.” He breathed out.

“And what’s that?” Steve murmured back, pressing light teasing kisses along the back of his neck.

“Fuck me.” Eddie almost whined. 

Steve had no fucking idea what had gotten into him to get him into this state but he was hardly going to deny him.

“I-” Eddie hesitated, his face burning a little red, “I prepped. Last night. I… I had kinda hoped something might happen.”

Steve lifted himself up onto his elbow, rolling Eddie over so he was on his back and tilting his chin to face him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Eddie shrugged. “I dunno, I was nervous I guess.”

“Are you nervous now?”

“No.” He shook his head as much as he could under Steve’s grip. “Wanna be fucked.”

“Yeah?” Steve rolled himself over until he was lying in between Eddie’s spread legs, “Want me to take care of you?”

Eddie nodded again, his eyes glassy and pleading.

“Hold me down, make me take it.”

Steve pulled back a little from where he was running his nose across Eddie’s jaw, feeling the stubble there scrape against his skin. He looked him in the eye.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, Stevie. Sweetheart. I trust you. I want you to.” Eddie rolled his hips up, dragging a moan out of both of them. “Feel safe with you. Always felt safe with you.”

Steve’s entire heart was melting. His whole body sunk down and he pressed his lips to Eddie’s in a kiss that he hoped conveyed everything he was feeling right now. Sweetness and care and affection and warmth and all of the soft gooey feelings Steve had kept locked away for so long that were all being let out now and how on earth had he ever managed to pretend to himself that he didn’t like the boy directly underneath him.

“As you wish.” He muttered into Eddie’s mouth and Eddie huffed back out at him.

“Don’t Princess Bride me right now, sweetheart.”

“Why?” Steve pouted. “You don’t want to be my princess?”

Eddie hummed against him. “Not right now. Maybe another time.”

Steve grinned back down at him.

“As you wish.”

“So I didn’t manage to suck the bitch out of your dick last night?”

“Nope.” Steve dragged his mouth down Eddie’s neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin there. “But I encourage you to try as often as you’d like.”

“Later.” Eddie exhaled, his breaths coming shorter as Steve slipped a hand between them, bypassing Eddie’s hard cock and instead pulling his legs up around his hips. “Later. For now, I need you in me. Please.”

“Love hearing you beg, baby.” Steve shot back at him with a sharp grin. “Do it again.”

Eddie’s hips jolted up and his eyes started to roll in his head as Steve flicked his tongue over one of his nipples.

“Stevie.” He moaned. “Sweetheart. Please. I need you. I need you. Please fuck me.”

“As you wish.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie rolled his eyes in exasperation rather than arousal and he went to shove at Steve’s shoulder.

Steve grabbed his wrist before he could, pinning his hand above his head and waiting to see if it was too far. 

Eddie’s mouth was hanging open and his eyes were blown out again, heavy and on fire and without an inch of apprehension in them.

“Where’s your lube and condoms?”

Eddie blinked himself back, his eyes becoming a little clearer again as he looked towards his bedside locker.

“Top drawer. I’ll-”

He reached out towards it with his free hand but Steve caught his wrist again, bringing it up to meet the other one over his head, crossing them and holding them fast with one hand.

“I think I’ll keep your hands right here.”

Eddie gave his arms an experimental tug, his whole body seeming to light up when he found he couldn’t pull them free with Steve’s weight bearing down on him as he leaned over to rifle through Eddie’s beside locker like he hadn’t even noticed Eddie trying to escape and Eddie’s hips humped up against him again. 

Steve let go of Eddie’s wrists but not before telling him, “Don’t move. Your hands stay there.”

He slipped the condom onto himself first so he didn’t have to fumble with it when his hands were all slippery and had just managed to spread a healthy dose of lube over his fingers before Eddie brought his arms down with a petulant little look in his eye.

Steve snapped his dry hand back up, catching both wrists before they could get far and pinning them back over his head.

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that is it?”

Eddie stared up at him, defiant. 

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Steve grinned down, sharp and predatory, pressing a finger against Eddie’s hole and pushing in.

Eddie writhed underneath him, fucking himself down harder on Steve’s finger than Steve would have expected and weakly attempting to pull his wrists away, the noises coming out of him making something almost animalistic come alive within Steve, pushing another finger in and scissoring him open.

“Fuck me, Stevie. I’m ready. Please.”

Steve drove his fingers in further, finding that bundle of nerves inside him and pressing down mercilessly, making Eddie cry out.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Eddie hissed out, somehow desperate and irritated at the same time. “Split me open, come on.”

How could he possibly refuse a request like that?

Steve pulled his fingers out and used that hand to spread Eddie wide, hiking his knee up higher around his waist and lining himself up.

With a desperate kind of ferocity, he crashed their mouths back together, shoving his tongue into Eddie’s mouth, swallowing his moans as he pushed himself in.

Eddie apparently refused any adjustment period, almost as soon as he had bottomed out, he was rolling his hips, tightening his legs, trying to get Steve to move. 

“Hard-” He panted into Steve’s mouth, “Harder.”

Steve’s thread of control snapped, and he pulled out almost completely before thrusting back in, hard and fast, driving Eddie further up the bed with each punishing snap of his hips, the filthy sounds of their skin slapping against each other reverberating around Eddie’s bedroom while Eddie practically screamed out as Steve nailed his prostate.

He could feel himself getting closer and he refused to go over the edge before he wrung every last drop of cum from Eddie’s body. 

He grabbed at Eddie’s cock in a hard grip, while Eddie’s eyes rolled back in his head. It only took a couple of pumps before his back arched and he came all over his own chest, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

Eddie was twitching and limp underneath him and Steve finally let go of his wrists, using both hands to grab onto Eddie’s hips and drive into him like he’d asked him to, splitting him wide open as he came harder than he could remember happening in recent memory.

Steve just about managed to stop himself collapsing down on top of him, slipping out and rolling over, falling into the pillows next to him, the two of them panting into the early morning of the bedroom.

He pulled the condom off, tying it closed and leaving it on the bedside locker to be dealt with later.

He spotted his own shirt from the night before lying on the floor and he leaned over the edge of the bed, picking it up and using it to wipe Eddie’s chest down.

When he settled back next to him, Eddie turned to him with a sleepy, dopey smile and heavy eyes.

Steve brought a hand up to brush some hair from his face.

“You okay?”

Eddie closed his eyes, shuffling himself in closer and cuddling into Steve’s chest.

“Yeah.” He sighed. 

“Would you calm down?”

Steve shot a glare at Eddie over his shoulder.

“Forgive me for wanting to get the food tasting good. Would you prefer if I fed them spaghetti-o’s?”

They’d invited the girls over for, like, a dinner date thing. It was the first time he and Eddie were going to be observed by them as a couple doing couple things and being domestic and shit so sue him. He wanted things to be perfect.

Eddie plucked the teaspoon from his hand, hip checking him out of the way, dipping it into the sauce and popping it into his mouth.

“See? It’s perfect! It-” Eddie looked from Steve back down to the sauce where it was simmering away then up at Steve again. He took the spoon from his mouth and popped his hip. “Needs more sugar.”

“Oh, it needs more sugar, does it?” Steve snatched the spoon back. Of course his beef ragu needed more sugar, he knew that that was what he had been trying to fix. “Thanks for your genius assessment, Chef.”

“Jesus, what’s up your ass today?” Eddie asked while Steve sprinkled and stirred just a little more sugar in. “Oh, I forgot.”

Eddie pressed Steve into the kitchen counter from behind, grabbing him by the hips to grind up against him.

“I’m in there, aren’t I sweetheart?” Eddie breathed into his ear. “You’re all plugged up for me like a good boy.”

Steve was mercifully saved from what would have undoubtedly been an embarrassingly whiny response or a bratty retort by a knock on the door.

Eddie gave Steve’s ass one last squeeze with his hands before leaving to answer the door in a flurry of movement.

He could hear his boyfriend's overly enthusiastic greeting, probably accompanied by bows and kissed knuckles and whatever other ridiculously adorable nonsense he could come up with.

The girls were led into the kitchen and while Robin immediately broke away to hover at Steve’s side, gossiping with him while trying to steal bites of food, Eddie and Chrissy were by the fridge, getting caught up in conversation after getting drinks for themselves and their partners.

Steve eventually shoved Robin away when she started getting a little more brazen and he enjoyed a blissful eleven seconds of being left to his own devices.

“Steven.”

Steve took a big breath in.

“Edward.” 

“The ragu is fine. It’s finished.”

Steve turned his glare over to those stupid big brown eyes that could get him to do almost anything.

Fuck it, he would do anything.

He’d probably agree to kill someone if Eddie asked him right.

Didn’t stop the irritation mixed with white hot attraction that just seemed to follow Eddie around, that Steve couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of.

“You think I’m gonna trust your nonexistent pallet to tell me it’s finished?”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie placed a hand over his heart and closed his eyes while Steve dipped a teaspoon back into the sauce, “my pallet has been trained by only the most refined of sugars-”

Steve shoved the spoon into Eddie’s mouth who, true to everything he’d learned about Eddie in the last couple of weeks, took it like a champ, snapping his eyes upon and sucking around it, his gaze boring into him.

Hollowing his cheeks out, he slowly slipped it out from in between those plump lips.

“Delicious.”

Behind him, Steve could hear Robin mutter to Chrissy.

“Great. We’re gonna have to put up with this shit for the rest of our lives.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3

Fic Art by me! 😊

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut @eddielives1986 @releasethexbarakat @a-little-unsteddie @steddietogo @steddiehyperfixation @raisedbylibrarians @silver-snaffles @estrellami-1 @bookbinderbitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @marklee-blackmore

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation

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Schedule moving forward

Thank you all for coming on this journey with me!

[atlasscrumpit]

Bucky x Reader

Haircut

You were in your room in the tower, cleaning up.

Sunday's were always quietand you took the chance to tidy up and have some time alone.

You heard a knock at your door and opened it to see Bucky with chunks of his hair cut out.

"What happened to you?" You asked trying to hold back your laughter.

"I tried to cut my own hair..." He grumbled as you bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

"Bucky, would you like some help?" You asked as he looked at you and nodded.

"Why didn't you just ask me in the first place?" You asked dragging a chair into the bathroom and getting him to sit down for you.

"I don't like people touching my hair, I don't like talking when someone is cutting my hair it's just...uncomfortable." He said as you nodded a little and thought for a second.

"Alright, well... How about this?" You asked handing him a set of earphones.

"Put these in and just close your eyes and relax, you don't have to do anything but focus on the music while I give you a hair cut." You said as he took the earphones and sat down.

"I guess that could work." He grumbled as you smiled.

"I'll always keep a hand on you in one way or another so you know I'm here, okay? That way I won't scare you too much if I randomly touch you." You instructed as he nodded and put the earphones in and closed his eyes.

You brought out the scissors and a brush and began to gently trim him hair to the length most of the chucks were.

You moved rather slowly, making sure to not spook him whenever you had to cut a new section.

Once you were done you noticed he was in a completely relaxed state, you chuckled softly before tapping his shoulder and letting him open his eyes.

He took the headphones out and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Wow... I look so different." He muttered as you smiled.

"Good different?" You asked finally seeing a smile creep onto his face.

"Yeah... Good different, I feel like the long hair just reminded me too much of...you know." He muttered as you nodded a little and brushed the hair away from his shoulders.

"Expect Steve to get all emotional, you know he's a baby." You said making him chuckle softly.

He knew Steve would be emotional about something as simple as a haircut, but the more time went on the more Steve could see his old friend coming back.

"He's somehow more emotional then you, and you literally cried about a snail yesterday." He said as you looked at him through the mirror.

"He was so tiny!" You shouted making him laugh and shake his head.

"Yes, I know he was. I was the one to console you when Thor stood on him." He said as you faked cried.

"That giant oaf." You muttered making him laugh again.

"Would you two just date already?" A voice startled you both as you looked behind to see Nat sitting on your bed.

"How long have you been sitting there?" You asked as she shrugged and walked out.

"You know...I always wanted an older sister, Nat makes me regret wishing for that." You said as Bucky stood up and smile, brushing the hair off him.

"I mean...maybe she's right." He muttered, looking down at the ground.

"What do you mean?" You asked, obviously you knew what he was implying but you needed it to be clear.

"The first time we tried it we were both in a terrible place, of course it ended badly... Maybe, we could try again." He said, looking into your eyes as you smiled softly.

"I would really like that actually..." You said noticing his cheeks flush a little.

"How about I take you out on Friday? Dinner, dancing?" He asked making you smile with fondness.

"It's a date."