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smileysuh · 1 month ago

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siren's song

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “That’s the funny thing about trust, isn’t it, Pirate King?” you ask, stepping closer to him. You look up into Johnny’s eyes, and he’s blown away by your natural beauty. “You’ll only find out if the trust is solid, when you’re in a moment of need.” A moment of need… watching your lips right now, Johnny’s in a deep moment of need.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, wing kink, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, dirty talk, praise, worship, pussy eating, slight roughness, size kink, Johnny has a massive cock, inklings of captain kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) Princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Pirate au, siren au, Captain!Johnny etc…

☀️ mlist + an. so I did a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon last month, and I'm a huge One Piece fan, and I wanted to tackle a pirate au :) I'm super pleased with how it turned out, and I hope you guys can appreciate this fantasy au too!

Prologue:

When Johnny had first become a pirate, he’d been taken under the wing of the most extraordinary man he’d ever known. The Pirate King had seen something in Johnny, who at that time was just a young man of thirteen. This King set out to teach Johnny everything he knew- and despite the fact that he was being groomed for the pirate crown, something in the back of Johnny’s mind felt as if the old King would ever die.

The two of them sailed for sixteen years, and Johnny watched his brave Captain and King cheat death more times than either of them could count or keep record of in their log book.

It feels unreal for Johnny now, as he sits next to his Captain’s bed, watching the most fearsome man he knows dwindle before his very eyes.

One good slice had been all it took to do him in, a slice, and a gruesome infection that followed, taKing a toll on the old pirate’s heart in a way Johnny could never have imagined possible.

“Before I die, there’s more I must tell you,” the Pirate King insists, reaching for Johnny’s wrist, which he holds in an iron grip despite his weakened state.

Johnny doesn’t have the heart to argue, he’ll hear his adopted father’s dying remarks if it’s the last thing he ever does.

“Confidence is key, my boy,” the Pirate King insists, a shiver running through him. There’s a sheen of sweat across his prominent brow, a sign of the fever that’s been killing him for days. He takes in a ragged breath before continuing. “The secret of the sirens is that they only prey-” he coughs, “only prey on pirates and sailors who have sins and baggage. This is a secret you too must pass down to your successor one day.”

Johnny’s not sure what to think as he grabs a cup of water to hold out to the old man, helping him drink. Sure, Johnny’s heard of sirens and mermaids, but he’s never actually seen any with his own two eyes. These must just be tall tales that his Captain’s exhausted mind is clenching at in the end- looking for something mythical to soothe him before he makes the leap into the great beyond.

“Regrets can’t have a place in your life, John,” the Pirate King continues, pushing the cup of water away and sending it clanging to the wooden floor of the ship. “You can’t be King if you feel regret, tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Johnny assures his Captain, reaching for the cup. There’s no use wiping the water up, afterall, the wooden decks of the ship are worn and speckled with the signs of years of use. It’s a ship that has been thoroughly loved, and Johnny is already considering the option of getting one of his own to note the start of his pirate reign.

“You don’t understand,” the Pirate King sighs, relaxing back against his pillows, “but that’s alright. You’ll understand soon enough.” He takes a haggard breath, and Johnny watches his old weathered hands clutch at his bedding. “There’s a rite of passage every new Pirate King must take. You’ll sail to the Forbidden Island Chain, the Selkie Islands, where you’ll find the sirens and mermaids from the old tales. You’ll have to prove yourself once you’re there, prove your lack of regrets. Only the one true Pirate King, who is confident in all of his doings, can withstand their deadly songs.”

One:

When the old Pirate King had first told Johnny of his task, he hadn’t quite believed it. However, after his passing, Doyoung, the scribe/navigator/book keeper had approached Johnny to tell him this was very much a real rite of passage, and that he’d been gifted with explicit coordinates as well as reading materials to use to complete the journey.

Johnny had been an avid reader growing up, and while he’d read the stories of mermaids and sirens with extreme interest as a lad, he’d thought of the contents as more fiction than fact. It’s interesting now, to be a man of twenty-nine, rereading the books of his youth with a newfound view of reality.

The islands they’re headed to are a no man’s land. For as long as recorded pirate lore can remember, the Selkie islands have been home to mermaids and sirens. While many don’t believe in these mythical beasts, pirates can be a superstitious lot, and any who have risked the voyage, haven’t returned to tell their story. It’s as they always say, dead men tell no tales.

Sure, sirens and mermaids have supposedly ventured away from the islands, looking for men and sailors to drown, but the reports of that have been few and far inbetween in these past years, especially since the British Royal Navy has made a larger foothold as far as pirateering is concerned.

In the last leg of their trip, Johnny calls his men to the deck of The Neo. “This is our maiden voyage,” Johnny calls above the familiar sound of the sea. “We’re a new crew, and I don’t expect to have full loyalty yet, despite my standing as the future Pirate King. Some of you must be wondering about our destination. I’m sure you’ve all heard the tales of mermaids and sirens- and for the safety of everyone, I want to make sure we go into this with a full arsenal, which means, we all must know our enemy.”

Johnny turns his attention to Doyoung, who steps forward carrying a few of Johnny’s top reading materials.

“There’s a difference between sirens and mermaids,” Johnny starts, picking the first book up, “they’re not the same thing, although, that’s been lost as common knowledge in the past years. Mermaids are the easy ones, half fish, half woman, and as alluring as anything we’ve ever seen. They will draw you to the water, whether that be the edge of the boat, or the edge of land, and when you’re close enough, they grab you and drown you.”

“Do they eat us or fuck us?” one person calls, and Johnny looks up to see Lee Donghyuck blinking up at him. “I just mean, I’ve heard both,” the youngest pirate says, defending himself as a chorus of agreed murmurs erupts through Johnny’s new crew.

“That’s a good question,” Johnny admits. “One that is undetermined, as no survivors have ever come back from being dragged under the sea, and all other opinions are just conjecture.”

“Pff, conjecture,” someone scoffs.

Johnny knows he’s a lot more well read than anyone on his crew. He spent many many voyages as a young man in the old Pirate King’s library. The Pirate King had always been grooming him for the top position, and there’s a certain amount of smarts that have to be shown in order to excel at the role. Johnny is no ordinary pirate, which is what sets him apart from all others.

“Sirens, on the other hand,” Johnny continues, “are said to have been ladies in waiting to Persephone, from the Greek myths. When she was snatched away by Hades, her mother, Demeter, gave her ladies in waiting wings to search for her. Sirens are angelic creatures, in beauty, and in voice. They lure not with good looks alone, but with songs that bewitch. If they can, they’ll steal your soul right from your own mouth.”

Johnny knows now that a siren’s power has to do with the regrets you hold, which is why he’s spend the past two months forgiving himself for any and all misdemeanors.

“In the ancient Greek texts, they tell of beeswax used in The Odyssey, shoved into ears to make you unable to hear the siren’s song, that’s what we’ll do now as we approach the final day of our journey.”

“What?” someone bellows.

“Doyoung will hand out the beeswax, and you will all hopefully be immune to death unless you decide to wander to the ship’s edge and give yourself to the sirens and mermaids.”

“What about you, Captain?” Mark Lee speaks up. God, he’s too soft to be a pirate at times, but Johnny had hand picked him for a reason. He’s more thoughtful than most- in fact, the whole crew was chosen for a variety of reasons, and Johnny wouldn’t sail with anyone else.

“Part of my trial is to face the siren’s song unprotected, to prove that I’m the one true Pirate King,” Johnny explains.

Doyoung has begun to hand out the beeswax, and one look at his unamused face tells Johnny that his faithful scribe doesn’t believe in this whole little farce. It’s more than likely that due to a lack of belief, numerous men will fall under the spell of a mermaid of siren, and that’s something Johnny had accepted before they set sail.

No, Johnny loves his crew already, but he’d be lying if he said they were anything other than exactly what they are: pirates.

Two:

There’s a flurry of commotion among the palace halls today, whispers of the death of the old Pirate King, and the rise of a new one.

This isn’t something that happens frequently, and you’re at an age where the arrival of a new Pirate King can impact you directly.

You’re a Siren Princess, and out of all of your sisters, you’re your fathers favourite. As you walk to the great hall, you’re aware that the likelihood is you’ll be chosen to sing a song to the new Pirate King, as your mother had before you.

The new ship is approaching with speed, and soon, you’re being whisked off by your ladies in waiting to get dressed the part. A silky white dress is strewn upon your form, hugging all the right curves, and accentuating all that your womanly body has to offer. The siren’s song is more than sung lyrics, it’s an entire performance, and the jewels that are set to adorn your form are part of it.

“He’s here!” one of your sisters declares as she barges into your room, a mischievous look on her face.

Everyone erupts into a fit of enthusiasm, and you’re ushered outside, where you join your father in the palace’s temple courtyard that looks down to the cove.

It’s true, there’s a large pirate ship just entering the bay, bearing the skull and crossbones symbol of pirates on it’s proudly waving flag.

Your wings waver at the notion of flight, and you lick your lips in preparation, feeling a flurry of excitement beginning to build within your breast.

“Be good, my sweet,” your father encourages you. “Test the man.”

“I will,” you promise, allowing him to squeeze your hand as one last sign of affection before you take flight.

This first contact with the new Pirate King is a solitary mission, and you feel naked as your large, strong wings carry you from the mountain top and toward the pirate vessel in the bay.

As you approach, your eagle eyes narrow in on a man waiting by the bow of the ship. He’s leaning on the rail, a grin on his face as he watches you draw near. He’s handsome, something you can’t deny as you hover just a few meters away.

He doesn’t look like a typical pirate. There’s no beard or missing eye. No, he has chiseled features, and a mischievous smile that almost threatens to take your breath away. His white tunic is open, and you sneak a glance at chiseled abs and skin that’s beautifully worn and tanned from years spent in the elements.

Despite his good looks, you have a job to do, and the man is patient as you begin your song.

You’ve been preparing for this for years, and The Sister’s Song you’ve practiced is one of loss and grief, however, there’s a haunting beauty to it too, one that even your own people find hard to resist.

You sing your heart out, watching the new Pirate King carefully.

He smiles at your song, however, he doesn’t flinch a muscle. When your words die off, he lifts his hands to clap, and with that, you know that he’s fit to be the next pirate ruler. He’s a man with no regrets, a man who lives by the beat of his own drum, and he’s earned your respect.

“That was a lovely song,” the man calls out to you.

“And what is your name, new would-be King?” you retort.

“I’m Captain John, but you can call me Johnny,” he grins. “And you?”

“I’m the Siren Princess, y/n.”

Johnny nods. “I know the past Pirate Kings have come for a song and left, however, I was hoping for more than a blessing today.”

“That’s presumptuous of you,” you note, feeling a smile work its way onto your face.

“Being presumptuous is part of being a King, I suppose,” Johnny muses. “I was hoping for a banquet. We’ve brought food and booze.”

“A banquet,” you repeat. Never before has a Pirate King dared come to your shores- this man is something different, and it intrigues you in a way you’ll never be able to express. “I accept. You can follow me to the water’s edge palace.”

“I do have one condition though.”

“And what is it that the new Pirate King suggests?” you enquire.

“Only that my men will be keeping their earplugs in. Many a pirate banquet have ended with blood in the water, but tonight, I’m hoping to be more civilized.”

“A civilized pirate,” you laugh. “That’s new.”

Three:

Johnny knows that he’s bringing his men deep into danger, but this is something that he feels will be an important stepping stone. While past Pirate Kings have had an understanding with the mermaids and sirens, none had fed the flames to keep the fire going. No, in contrast to his past predecessors, Johnny thinks it’s important to have a better connection with sirens and mermaids, perhaps even diplomatic relations.

Sure, it also helps that you’re absolutely stunning, and Johnny would be lying if he said he didn’t want to spend more time with you- but his plans for a banquet had been set in stone before he’d laid his eyes on you, so Johnny has no regrets there.

As Johnny is taken to shore and shown into the waterside palace, the new King notes the way siren’s have different wings.

While yours are white an angelic, others have more fairy like protrusions, and Johnny would bet his life that your wings are a sign of royal blood. They’re certainly the most durable, the largest, and the strongest, that he’s able to see, and when any others appear with similar wings, you’re quick to introduce them as family.

“I’m interested to meet your father. You said you’re a Siren Princess, so your father must be King,” Johnny notes as he follows you through the palace. It’s old marble, and while parts of it are eroding, Johnny can’t help but marvel at the way the structure straddles the lines of nature. There are all sorts of growing greens, as well as harmony between both earth and water elements- with streams interweaving below white marbled bridges.

In these waterways, are mermaids, who look up at him with curiosity, their hair always falling just so- protecting their modesty, if creatures such as they even possess such a thing.

“He’ll come down from the mountain palace,” you tell Johnny. “You have to understand, no Pirate King has ever dared set foot here. This is not something we are accustomed to.”

“I can see that,” Johnny nods, turning to find Donghyuck leaning over the edge of the bridge, eyes locked with a particularly gorgeous mermaid, who’s creeping closer and closer from the stream below-

Johnny grabs the younger pirate by the scruff of the neck, tearing him away from a beautifully savage fate. He pushes Donghyuck towards Yuta, and the mermaids giggle. “Keep an eye on him,” Johnny warns the feral looking pirate. “And keep an eye on yourself while you’re at it.”

You smile at the interaction, and Johnny sighs.

“You think this is funny, do you?”

“Just a show that we don’t need to be heard to be alluring, mermaids never rely on their voices, so your beeswax will do little to ward them off.”

“I guess I thought my men had more control,” Johnny admits, falling into step with you and casting a glance at the crew that follows, “although, I guess at the end of the day, they’re just pirates.”

“And you’re not?” you counter.

“I’m a pirate, it’s true,” Johnny confesses. “But I think we both know, no Pirate King is ever just a pirate.”

“I will agree with you on that,” you nod. Although you’ve not met many pirates in your life, it’s clear that this one has a better head on his shoulders than most- in more than just the looks department. “The great hall is this way,” you continue, showing him through an archway that brings you to the outdoor meeting place.

It’s a true wonder of water and earth, a courtyard exposed to the night sky above. The moonlight illuminates the space, and littered throughout are pools with glassy water, mermaids perched like poised, picturesque, marble statues along their edges. Eyes that shine in the nightly gleam watch as you draw the Pirate King’s crew deeper into the lion’s den, beautiful predators, assessing every movement.

You hope this new Pirate King knows what he’s doing.

Four:

By all accounts, the feast is going well. Roaring fires are cooking multiple boar that Johnny had brought specifically for this trip, as well as fish and other provisions they’d packed. The sirens and mermaids had provided more of the perishable items, and even though there are wooden bowls of salad littered here and there, it’s clear that everyone has a preference for the meat.

The mermaids in particular are quite savage with the way they eat, grabbing leg straight by the bone and tearing in with teeth that hadn’t looked as sharp before as they do now.

Johnny is on alert, despite his attempts to exude a calm and happy countenance.

He feels as if he’s in a den of angelic looking demons, and he’s already caught numerous crewmates wandering just a little too close to the water’s edge. Hyuck in particular has been reared back by the scruff of his neck a grand total of five times, and Johnny’s beginning to think the young man simply has a death wish… that, or his brain resides in his cock.

From the way the mermaids giggle with each close call, it’s clear to Johnny that they’re testing him as the new Pirate King. They’re testing his trust in them, his wits, and Johnny’s not quite sure what to make of it.

“Pirate King,” your voice distracts Johnny from his internal musings, and he turns to you. “Come with me,” you bid him, standing and reaching out a hand. “I have something to give you.”

Your words draw not only Johnny’s attention, but the attention of those around him, and Yuta lets out a loud wolf whistle. It’s no shock that his crew would have filthy thoughts about why you’re whisking him away, but Johnny gets the suspicion that this interaction isn’t just about getting in his pants.

You’re a Princess after all, and so far, you’ve been nothing short of a gracious host. It’s clear that the two of you share alliance goals, and Johnny had watched you take your father to the side and passionately argue the importance of a connection between pirates and sirens.

“Watch Hyuck,” Johnny warns Jaehyun as he stands, allowing you to gently guide him by the hand away from the festivities.

Mermaids watch curiously as you lead Johnny over a number of small bridges, moving farther and farther from the main courtyard until you’re back at the edge of the sea. Johnny can hardly hear the sound of loud pirate laughter anymore, and he realizes how serene this new location is as he studies your winged form in the moonlight.

“I have two gifts for you,” you tell him, reaching into your dress. Johnny hadn’t realized the fine white material had included pockets, but then again, most of the night he’s been staring at your pretty face and your angelic wings. You pull out a conch shell, handing it to Johnny. “This one is to call for mermaids, and this one,” you place a halloweed reed style whistle next to the shell, “is to call on sirens. They’re in case you need help in battle, a way to contact us, to solidify an alliance of sorts, although- I warn you not to use the shell if you have any men in the water, mermaids are not the most discerning of saviours.”

Johnny looks down at the two items. At first, he doesn’t know what to say, and his voice cracks when he finally finds the words. “Thank you.” He swallows thickly. “I appreciate these, uh… tokens.”

You let out a giggle. “No need to be so formal, Pirate King.”

“Says the woman who just used the word discerning.”

“I’m more educated than you, pirate,” you grin.

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that, Princess.”

“Touche.”

Johnny enjoys this back and forth, it feels natural, and without the eyes of countless others on the two of you right now, the Pirate King feels comfortable to just be himself. “I guess, as much as I appreciate these gifts, I’m still wondering if I can trust you, if you’ll come when I call.”

“That’s the funny thing about trust, isn’t it, Pirate King?” you ask, stepping closer to him. You look up into Johnny’s eyes, and he’s blown away by your natural beauty. “You’ll only find out if the trust is solid, when you’re in a moment of need.”

A moment of need… watching your lips right now, Johnny’s in a deep moment of need.

From the way your own gaze dips down, Johnny’s sure you reciprocate the attraction, and with one final ‘fuck it’ that he sends to the wind, Johnny cups the back of your neck with his large palm. He draws your mouth to his, kissing you gently on the edge of the sea as the moonlight bathes you both in light. The winds carry the smell of salt, a constant reminder of Johnny’s true commitments.

He’s a man with no regrets, a Pirate King, and nothing could ever make Johnny regret this shared kiss, this shared confirmation of a newly blossomed union between pirates, mermaids and sirens.

Five:

It’s been a full year since the Pirate King arrived at the Selkie Islands, a full year without hearing a whistle or the blow of a conch, and in that time, you’ve begun to worry about him.

Sure, he’d been strong, and tall, and handsome- but in your opinion, he’d lacked the savagery that had been so clearly evident in those who had come before him, not to mention excessive facial hair, bad teeth and body odor.

You’ve done your best to distract yourself with your studies, as education is important for a Princess such as yourself, and you’re in your library one afternoon when your ears pick up that distant call.

The reed you’d given the Pirate King is a magic reed, and it’s fine tuned to your ears. You’re able to hear it from a vast distance, and with your natural bird like homing abilities, there’s no way you’d miss Johnny’s location.

It’s been a year, but finally, you’re being summoned.

You’re quick to rally a small force of sirens to go with you, your Princess’ guard, which consists of your best female fighters with the strongest wings for flight. Despite your father being the King of the sirens, that’s only in the stead of your mother, who had died of an illness many moons ago. The sirens, as well as the mermaids, are naturally maternalistic societies, and when you need something done right, you send a band of females.

The journey is a long one, but with your wings, you’re able to cover vast distances. You make it to Johnny’s pirate ship and the cove it’s anchored in just as the evening sun is setting. The Neo is still alive and well, and there are hardly any new marks on it, something that reassures you as you and your small band of sirens touch down on the deck.

Pirates watch you, and your eyes find Johnny as he steps down the stairs from the helm to greet you.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admits, stopping just at the bottom step to assess you with a half grin on his face, his Captain’s hat tilted just so.

“Travel takes time, as I’m sure you know,” you retort. “What’s the emergency?”

“I’d like to speak to you, privately.”

With a nod to your companions, you follow Johnny into the Captain’s quarters, curious as to what this call is about if not an attack.

“On the island, we hold pirate council,” Johnny explains. “Seeing as you’re my new ally, I’d like for you to speak, as a Princess, as the head of the sirens- and I’d like you to have a say for the mermaids as well, although, I can call upon the mermaids too if you’d rather they have their own representative.”

“Pirate council?” you ask in shock. “I wasn’t aware pirates were so democratic.”

“I am King of something, Princess,” Johnny grins.

“I suppose that’s true,” you smile back at him slyly. “I can speak for the sirens, and the mermaids, at this council at least. When I return to the Selkie Islands, I can discuss a mermaid representative for further collaborative efforts.”

Johnny nods. “Works for me.”

“So when is this council, exactly?”

“We were waiting for you.”

Within minutes, you’re following Johnny into the largest beached pirate ship vessel you’ve ever seen. Despite it’s outside appearance, the inside is remarkably well kept- and you suppose it’s worn down exterior acts as a camouflage of sorts for the importance of what takes place inside this aged wooden skeleton of the sea.

You feel very important as you walk with Johnny, and he pays you the respect of holding you at his arm, making you equals as you enter the large council chamber.

Whispers erupt at the sight of you, and you suppose many of the pirates present have never seen a siren in the flesh.

“I told them I’d be bringing you,” Johnny whispers in your ear as he takes you to the head of the table, pulling out the seat at his right hand for you to sit in. As you get settled, he leans close, his lips just brushing your ear. “You could ensnare the souls of every person in this room if you so much as breathed a note of your siren song, don’t be scared, and speak from your heart.”

You’d always thought of yourself as a confident Princess, but walking into this pirate’s den had shaken your foundations. Hearing Johnny’s praise of you, the facts that he’s pointed out- it helps you calm down, your shoulders falling, body relaxing.

“Today, this pirate council has been drawn, because we need to discuss the increasing threat in our waters,” Johnny’s clear Kingly voice rings out through the room. “The British Royal Navy. they’ve been imposing their laws, sinking ships, taking prisoners, and killing every man, woman, or child who has ever had anything to do with the likes of us.”

This is all news to you. You’ve heard whispers of a new type of sailor in these seas, of more regimented water crafts- but your kind generally sticks to your own islands these days, you’d had no clue that this ‘British Royal Navy’ had become such an imposing force.

You listen as Johnny continues his speech, and then he opens up the floor for other pirates to speak.

It’s a heated debate, a debate of which you’re not necessarily inclined to be a part of. There’s talk of attacking ports, jail breaking prisoners-

It’s clear to you that although they view themselves as somewhat democratic for throwing a council such as this, that many of the pirates who are here to represent their crew and fleat, are very much in it only for themselves.

It’s also evident that Johnny takes his role as Pirate King extremely seriously, and you find yourself most and more enraptured as you watch him take control and keep things peaceful. Not only does he understand what others are saying, but often, he’s able to reword concerns so that others can understand as well. He’s like a Pirate King translator, and it’s a very attractive quality.

There’s a bit of infighting between two rough looking bearded men, and when Johnny breaks it up, he sighs, turning to you. “Do you have any opinions, Princess?”

“I’d like to spend the night thinking on it. I’ve taken in a lot of information, and I’m tired from my travel.”

“That’s a good point,” Johnny nods. “I think we should all take the night to think things though and consider other perspectives, we can reconvene in the morning.”

The Pirate King stands up, not giving any time for protest, and as you rise to join him, you take a survey of the room. You can see the respect that the others have for him, and everyone stays in their seat as Johnny takes your arm and leads you back outside.

The two of you are quiet as you return to his ship. It’s clear there’s a lot on both of your minds, and you kind of enjoy the peaceful quiet that blossoms with the strong man at your side.

“Well,” Johnny says finally, “I’ll give you and your companions my cabin, and I’ll find somewhere to sleep below deck.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him. “I’m going to send my companions home, it’s clear they’re not needed here tonight, and after our council meeting tomorrow, I’ll return to the Selkie Islands as well.”

“Almost sounds like you trust me to be on my best behaviour, Princess,” Johnny grins.

“As you said before, one note of song from my lips and your entire crew could be under my spell. I have nothing to fear.”

“Not even from me?” he toys.

“Not even from the Pirate King himself.”

“Well,” Johnny licks his lips, taking in your form, “I’ll let you say your goodbyes, and then you can meet me in my quarters.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“That’s King to you, Princess.”

You can only scoff, turning and leaving the Captain to join your ladies on the deck of the ship. You fill them in on the council meeting, and although two of them are reluctant to leave your side, you reassure them that you’ll be okay. This new strengthening of the alliance with the pirates is founded on trust, and if anything happens, the sirens alone could take out the entire pirate fleet sans Captain John himself, who’s impervious to your songs.

Soon, you’re the lone winged creature on the deck of the ship, and you can feel eyes on you as you make your way to Johnny’s Captain’s quarters.

You’d been in here earlier when Johnny had taken you aside for a private chat, but you hadn’t taken the time to fully appreciate his home.

While there are wooden accents everywhere, it’s a very lavish quarters. There are lots of red velvet- royal colours that draw your eyes. It’s a masculine space, but the full walled library betrays the erudite mind of the new Pirate King. A large table is littered with maps, and it’s clear that’s where Johnny does most of his work, however, tucked into a wall pocket by his books, is a massive bed, with the same scarlety fabric drapes to make the sleeping section more private and cozy.

Johnny’s standing by the windows that look out the back of the ship, and while the candle flames lick light at the walls, it’s the reflection of the moon that truly illuminates the space.

“And so all the pretty birds fly home for the night,” he says, watching your companions disappear into the inky sky.

“All but one,” you muse, locking the door behind you.

“And the prettiest one at that.” Johnny turns to you. “Are you sure you don’t want me to find somewhere else to sleep tonight?”

“I’ve been thinking about our last meeting for a year, Captain, I think it would be a disservice to both of us to not indulge further, after all, we’ve been good and patient, haven’t we?”

“Too patient, even for a Pirate King,” Johnny groans, moving closer.

“Even for a Princess,” you agree, wetting your lips as you stay still, allowing Johnny to be the one to close the gap.

Like that night by the water’s edge, Johnny doesn’t ask permission, you can tell that he reads your need for him as easily as he had a year ago. His large hand cups your cheek, drawing your lips to his own, and it’s such a familiar feeling-

Something about him just feels right. It feels natural. As if you’ve done this a hundred times before, even though this is only really your second kiss with the young Pirate King.

Regardless, you allow yourself to get lost in him. Your hands begin to explore him as if by muscle memory, and you push at his long dark jacket, exposing the white unbuttoned tunic below. Fucking pirates and their fashion sense- he’s too much of a slut in this fucking shirt, it’s making you feral.

“Someone is eager,” Johnny muses, breaking the kiss to look down at you with a grin.

“Someone is dressed like a whore,” you retort, flicking his hat off his head with one sharp movement.

The Pirate King lets out a whistle. “Wow, Princess, didn’t expect to hear words like that coming out of such a pretty little mouth.”

“Maybe being around you has some of your piracy rubbing off on me,” you suggest, hooking your finger in his gun holster belt to tug him closer.

“Princess, if I’d rubbed one off on you, you’d know it.”

You can only scoff, and Johnny’s smile widens. He tugs you closer, looking down at you with dark eyes that have suddenly turned serious.

“I’ve got a question for you, Princess.”

“Yeah, and what’s that, Captain?”

“I was just thinking…” he looks past you, and your wings twitch under his inspecting gaze, “are they as sensitive as they look?”

You breathe in a harsh gasp, a shiver running through you at the thought.

Johnny grins again. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

Siren wings are extremely sensitive, especially ones like yours.

“They’re just… so pretty,” Johnny continues, reaching out. “You’ll let me touch, right?”

“You can touch,” you whisper, watching him while frozen in place. All your bravado and confidence are gone, and although you’re the siren, it feels as if the Pirate King has put you under a spell of his own now.

He’s ever so gentle as he brushes his fingers against your wing, looking down at you to watch for a reaction.

You close your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, and you can tell from the way Johnny grabs your hip with his other hand, that he enjoys the effect this is having on you.

He traces down your wing to the base, where your human skin becomes feathers, and he toys that spot with a circular motion. It feels so good- you have to bite your tongue to stifle a moan.

“It’s okay, Princess, let it out, I wanna hear you,” Johnny encourages.

“You might, but what about your crew?” you ask, looking at the door just a few meters away. If you moan- even if it’s a moan and not a purposeful siren song - it could still bewitch anyone close enough to hear it, and you’d hate to lose composure, damaging your alliance, because you’re too horny to keep it in your pants and in your mouth.

“That’s a good point,” Johnny concedes. In one motion, he’s lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips as he carries you toward the bed nook. He gently puts you down, carefully of just flopping you onto the mattress and damaging a wing, then, he draws the curtains closed, clearly hoping to muffle any sounds that come out of you. “Now… where were we?”

“I think you were about to get me naked and eat me the way you ate that fucking wild boar last year.”

“I was trying to be somewhat clean that night, you know,” Johnny laughs.

“I don’t mind messy, in fact, part of me might prefer it.”

“Are you sure you’re a Princess?” Johnny asks, kissing up your calf as you adjust against the pillows, making sure your wings are in an alright position for him to eat you out.

“I’m as much of a Princess as you are a King,” you point out.

Despite you both having titles, it’s clear there’s more to you than your respective stations in life. Sure, the fact that he’s a Pirate King and you’re a Siren Princess is making this whole interaction possible, but there’s a desire to know him on a deeper level- and it’s one of the reasons you’re reluctant to refer to him as King. You’d rather see him as a Captain, a leader of men in that capacity-

Johnny’s hands push your dress up your thighs, and you let out a small exhale at the feeling of cool cabin air on your exposed skin.

As a siren, you’re somewhat of a wild being. No matter how civilized you might look, with your long flowy dresses, and monarch system- you’re still not fully human, and you hate restrictive clothing, which is why, the dress is the only piece of fabric covering your body. As Johnny pushes the fabric up, he realizes your nudity under the silk, and you watch his pupils dilate with interest.

Johnny licks his lips, looking up at you one last time, as if asking for permission. You nod to him, a smile working its way onto your face as you realize how soft he’s being with you.

He’s the big bad Pirate King, but consent is still a must- God, he’s truly an enigma, and you’d be happy to spend years figuring him out.

Johnny dives into your pussy. Two large hands grab your thighs, spreading you open for the tongue that begins to lap at your core.

“Shit-” you groan. No one’s ever eaten you out like this before. You’re not a virgin per se, but your number of sexual experiences is severely limited. As far as mythical races go, the sirens aren’t the horniest of creatures, but there’s something about this Pirate King that changes everything.

You can feel Johnny grin against your pussy, and it turns you on even more as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking at it repeatedly.

Your hands are grabbing at the lush bedding, trying to keep you grounded on a ship that’s gently rocking from the sea. There are so many textures, the velvety fabrics, your silky dress pushed up to your waist. The smells of the wood and sea, the sounds of The Neo and the water lapping at her sides-

You’re overwhelmed in the best possible way as sounds of desperation escape you, spurring on the Pirate King as he works you over with his mouth.

You reach down, threading your fingers through his soft hair. God, some pirates are unhygienic as fuck, but this one seems to know how to take care of himself, and that’s an attractive quality in a man.

Johnny growls against your pussy, sucking your clit even harder, and your toes curl. You can feel an orgasm rising in the pit of your stomach, and Johnny’s steady pace is drawing that release closer and closer-

His grip digs into your thighs and you throw your head back gasping-

Your eyes clench shut as your orgasm washes over you, throbbing through your entire body unlike any high you’ve ever had, even those you’ve given yourself.

You ride out the orgasm, and Johnny continues to worship your core until you’re spent and sweaty. You push him away gently, and he looks up at you. As the Pirate King rises, he licks his lips, and you enjoy the view of him getting every last drop of your taste.

“You taste as angelic as you look, Princess,” Johnny muses.

“And I feel even better,” you say lazily.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Johnny shrugs off his white tunic, baring his washboard abs and broad chest. He’s got scars, battle wounds most likely, but nothing too gnarly. No, he’s quite beautiful, for a pirate.

Your dress has a low back, the type that you step into so your wings aren’t damaged or put in any awkward positions, so as Johnny strips himself, you tug the silky fabric of your own clothing down your body.

You love the feeling of the velvety bedding against your exposed skin, and you spread your legs for Johnny, an invite.

He drops his pants to the ground, and his heavy belt acts like as a weight, creating a loud thumping sound against the worn wooden floor.

Fuck. The Pirate King is packing. You’d noticed his affinity for a pistol over a sword, but you suppose that’s only because he has a sword sized cock inside his breeches.

Johnny reads your expression, and he lets out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll go slow with you.”

“You better. Being fatally impaled by the Pirate King was not in my nightly plan.”

“Just… pleasantly impaled by the Pirate King, right?” Johnny jokes, getting onto the bed with you, his large biceps bulging as he holds his weight overtop of your body.

God, he’s so handsome, and playful for a Pirate King too. There’s something to unique about this Captain John, and it takes your breath away. The familiarity makes you uncomfortable in some form, so instead of responding, you grab the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours.

Johnny immediately kisses you, rolling his hips so his cock can drag against your pussy while you wrap your legs tight around him. His mouth is so distracting, but you simply can’t take your mind off of the massive length that’s toying by your clit with each rut of his hips.

How are you even going to fit this man inside of you?

To your surprise, Johnny is true to his word about not rushing anything. He simply makes out with you, rutting gently, working you up until you’re a gasping mess. You can feel your pussy practically crying onto his cock now, can feel how wet you’ve made his length with each pass of it through your pussy lips.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you tell him, adjusting slightly against his pillows, one wing stretching out to steady yourself a little.

“You sure about that?” Johnny taunts, bringing his lips to your throat, where he teases past your skin.

You moan desperately, tightening your grip on his hips, urging him to just fuck you-

Johnny’s nose grazes up your neck, and he pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, suckling on it gently.

“Please,” you whimper, all composure lost.

Johnny pulls away, looking down at you with an expression very much like concern while you grab at his broad shoulders. “Did you just say… please?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

The Pirate King grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to his again. “That actually sounded really cute coming from you, Princess.”

“If you don’t want to fuck me, then don’t fuck me,” you snap, getting irritated in your impatient lust fueled state.

“Does it feel like I don’t want to fuck you?” Johnny counters, rutting his hips so you can feel his massive cock, all enlarged and throbbing- “I just don’t want to hurt you, Princess. Remember, I have to be a man without regrets, and if I hurt you, then I’d have something to regret, and I couldn’t effectively be King of the pirates.”

Your heart melts for him, and it’s the best explanation he could have possibly given. You smash your lips to his, moaning into the kiss as desperation continues to take over your entire body.

Johnny adjusts his cock, pressing just the tip to your aching hole. He’s as gentle as ever as he slowly pushes it in, waiting patiently as you get used to the stretch.

The Pirate King continues to kiss you, distracting you from the feeling until it becomes pleasurable, then, he pushes deeper into you, repeating the slow build up. He takes his time, and it’s as if he knows your body inside and out, as if he’s reading every little reaction to make it the best possible experience for you.

Johnny is now completely inside of you, and you gasp at how deep it feels. You’re shocked he’s flush to your body, your chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, lips parted, staring into each others eyes.

God, this connection feels unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced.

It’s as if he’s staring into your soul, which is an uncanny feeling given the fact that siren’ are the soul collectors of the mortal world. You feel so bare for him, so susceptible and weaponless- but there’s no fear with this knowledge. You trust the young Pirate King, you’re not sure why, but you do. It’s this deep knowing- one that you can’t put into words.

“You ready?” Johnny asks, swallowing thickly.

You nod, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m ready.”

Johnny leans down, gently pressing his lips to yours as he begins to move his hips, slowly rutting into you, allowing your body to get used to his size with each motion.

You moan desperately against his mouth, kissing him harder, gripping his strong shoulders desperately as his pace builds-

One shift has your wing caught under you uncomfortably, and you break the kiss. “Can I be on top? My wing-”

Before you can even finish your explanation, Johnny is grabbing the small of your back, keeping you tucked to his chest, and rolling you so you’re now in the dominant position. He looks up at you, and you stretch your wings out. Your hands fall flat on his chest, your head thrown back as you enjoy the feeling of freedom now that you’re on top.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Johnny breathes.

“You and your wing kink, mister Pirate King,” you laugh, looking down at him.

“There are worse kinks to have,” he suggests, stroking your hip.

You don’t bother to agree with him, you simply start to move, rubbing back and forth a little, getting used to how deep his cock is inside your core now that you’re in the power position.

“The way you’re taking me is fucking heaven,” Johnny groans, pressing his thumb to your clit to rub gentle circles that set your skin on fire.

“Maybe we were made for each other,” you offer breathlessly, intending it to be a lighthearted joke of sorts, but the growl Johnny releases at your words tells you he takes them seriously.

“Maybe we were,” Johnny agrees, rubbing your clit even harder. His other hand finds your hip, and he begins to half bounce you up and down on his cock, leveraging the bed so he can make his own shallow thrusts, coming up to meet you with each motion.

The thought of the two of you being weird, two sides of the same coin soulmates has your stomach twisting into knots, or maybe that’s just the massive cock rearranging your guts, you’re not quite sure.

God, he looks so pretty like this too- a thin layer of sweat on his broad chest, his pouty bottom lip caught between his sexy teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. The scars on his tanned skin truly don’t bug you, in fact, the intricate lines are almost a type of art all of their own. You could spend hours tracing them-

Your toes curl as Johnny’s thumb works your clit, combining with his cock in your tight hole, working you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Come on, Princess,” Johnny groans, “almost there, and then I can flip you over and fuck you stupid.”

You’re pretty sure he’s already fucking you stupid, and you’re not quite sure why he’s encouraging you when he’s doing practically all the work- so you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling that’s building- getting to the edge in record speed is the one thing you can control right now.

Each breath feels almost like a type of meditation now, your body thrumming with an eclectic energy that you know is almost ready to explode-

“That’s it, cum on my cock.”

His words are the trigger that has you short circuiting, your body jolting as your orgasm slams into you. You cry out, eyes clenching shut as your pussy clamps down on his cock, your clit pulsing deliciously.

Johnny doesn’t let up, he continues to gently rub the sensitive nub, fucking up into you to prolong your high-

Soon, you can’t take it anymore, and you collapse down against his chest, breathing deeply.

Johnny cradles you for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re gonna let me cum too, right, Princess?” he asks.

“Yeah, cum in me-” you whisper, too delirious to even think straight.

Johnny helps you off of him, adjusting you onto your stomach. He gets behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you up into doggy position. “This view is amazing,” he tells you, gently stroking one of your wings and making a shock of pleasure run through your body. “If it’s too much, just tell me to stop.”

You can only nod, bracing yourself as he lines his cock up with your soaked hole, pushing into you as easy as ever.

His hands find your hips, and he begins to rail into you. Gone is the gentleness from before, but you don’t mind it. No, there’s an enjoyment in this raw, animalistic savagery- or maybe you should classify it as pirate-like in nature. Regardless of specification, it feels fucking good, and each smack of Johnny’s hips against your ass has you clawing at his bedding.

Then, one of Johnny’s hands is smoothing up your back, and you let out a strangled squeal when he grips the base of your wing, using it as a type of leverage as he fucks you.

There are no words to truly describe the feeling of having your wings being touched, and there are even fewer metaphors to encapsulate the ecstasy that comes from having Johnny utilize your wings to fuck you absolutely stupid. All you can do is take what he gives you, muffling your sounds with his pillow as he draws you closer and closer to the edge yet again, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“These are sensitive, huh, Princess?” Johnny asks, stroking his pointer finger up the section of wing in his grasp. “Almost feels like you’re gonna cum again.”

“Fuck, I am- I will, just- don’t stop!” you beg.

“If that’s what my Princess commands.” In fact, Johnny fucks you even harder, fingers digging into your hip with each rough motion.

He draws circles on the base of your wing with his thumb, and your body begins to twitch-

“I want us to cum together,” Johnny breathes heavily. “You’ll cum with me, right?”

“Yes, yes-”

“Almost there,” the Pirate King warns you.

Your own high is balancing on the edge of the knife, and as Johnny releases a raw grunt of satisfaction, the sound sends you toppling into the pleasure abyss.

You can feel him filling you up with cum as your pussy milks him for every single drop that the Pirate King is worth. All you can do is lay there, face buried in the pillows while wave upon wave of ecstasy washes over you like an all consuming, destructive, sea tempest.

Despite how powerful and intense it is, there’s never been anything as good as this before either.

Soon, Johnny’s slowing down, breathing heavily against your back. Your wings twitch at the feeling of his exhales, and he releases the base of your appendage, stroking his fingers down your spine gently.

“Give me a second, then I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You can only whimper, in a daze from three hard orgasms.

Johnny is true to his word, slipping out of you a minute later and returning with a cloth. He cleans you up, and then, he wraps you in his arms, drawing you under the blankets so you can cuddle even closer.

The two of you fall asleep like this, a Siren Princess, and a Pirate King, two beings without an ounce of regret.

Six:

Johnny’s happy with how things are going with council. He’d thought long and hard about not incurring an all out war with the navy, while also not leaving a single pirate behind. Prison breaks with the purpose of salvation over bloodshed, that had been his primary goal, and while many of his fellow pirates had seemed a little less than enthusiastic about the idea, he’d gotten them to agree.

He can’t govern them at all times, it was clear to him that sooner or later, pirates would begin their own brand of revolutionary vigilantism, but without any specific boundaries prohibiting the excessive use of force and weapons, things would turn into an all out war faster than Johnny would have ever been able to manage.

No, the agreement to tone down the violence is a good one, and as all the pirates begrudgingly agree, Johnny turns his attention to you. “What do you think, Princess?”

You release a sigh, one large wing twitching behind you. “Unfortunately, unlike the rest of you, who are a fact of the seas, my kind isn’t as well known, especially not to this new British Royal Navy. To be part of this encroaching threat would only put my people in danger. I can’t actively condone or participate a war, even on a small scale like this. I think as pirates you should do what you’d like, but my people will keep to our Islands and hopefully remain unnoticed by the Navy.”

Johnny nods. “I understand your concerns,” and with that, he leaves you be. He’d wanted you to be part of this council, but he’d known there would be times where the topic at hand wasn’t something that would affect you. He’s just happy to have your voice here, to have his alliance with you be glaringly obvious to all those who might oppose him or question his legitimacy as the new Pirate King.

The council completes its dues, and soon, Johnny is walking back with you toward his ship.

His men get scarce, something that he doubts is a coincidence, and Johnny leads you to the bow of the ship. The Neo’s large winged figurehead looks out at the sea, and the pirate Captain gazes as well, noting the oncoming storm that’s brewing in the distance.

“I guess I should be going home,” you sigh.

“Those clouds don’t look very friendly,” Johnny points out. “You can stay another night if you’d like.”

“Storms don’t phase me, Captain,” you tease. “Although, before I go, I have something to give you.”

Johnny turns to watch you pull a small reed from your pocket. It’s like the one you’d given him a year ago, but more dainty in a way.

“This reed is different from the other one,” you explain. “This one is a frequency just for me, so you can call when you need anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” you confirm with a sly smile. “If you play these three notes,” you demonstrate, “it will alert me that it’s not a life or death situation.”

“I’ll be sure to call for you if you’re needed,” Johnny muses, accepting the reed and playing the three note tune as easily as anything.

“And if I’m not needed, then I’m not needed,” you shrug.

Johnny likes this. He likes that you’re not trying to control him. No, you have an understanding that he is who he is. He’s a Pirate King, a man who more than anyone else, belongs to the sea. You’re not going to hold him down, and he’s pretty sure neither of you would enjoy it if you tried.

The flip side of that, is that you’re your own elusive being. You’re a Siren Princess, and he’s confident that you have your own things to do. He’s not sure what your life consists of, but he’s never going to be the man to get in the way of that and endeavor to cage the prettiest bird he’s ever seen.

The two of you have an understanding, and at the end of the day, that’s the best the young Pirate King could have ever hoped for.

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🔮 preview. There are all sorts of milestones he wants to have with you, but he supposes at the end of the day, the main thing he wants is tangible progress.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, body worship, fingering, grinding against Johnny’s hand, big dick Johnny, size kink, pussy stretching, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, wing kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) Princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 215

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

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When Johnny had first begun to see you, it had been every couple of months. It was a no strings attached, easy sort of connection- but somehow, he’s not sure when, it began to blossom into something more.

Every couple of months became once a month, and now, in the time between seeing you, Johnny struggles. He has your special reed in his hand, and many nights are spent with him fighting the urge to call you to his side.

It’s not just the sex anymore- although, the sex is great. No, it’s an inner peace that comes when you’re near, a comfort that gives him the best sleep of his life and the clearest mind. You simply make him better, and it’s a fact that is getting harder and harder for the Pirate King to ignore.

As much as he hates to admit it to himself… it’s beginning to feel an awful lot like the Pirate King is starting to have regrets.

He’s beginning to regret his commitment to the sea, to the ship, to the crew that follows his every word. He’s starting to imagine what a life less free would look like-

If there was ever a woman who could tie him down, it would be you, and he knows it.

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signoferoda · 1 year ago

Text

TAUGHT WELL - HS

summary: the kids go into protective mode after someone flirts with y/n at the beach

Novie was the first to notice. Her little eyebrows furrowed as she tugged on her oldest brother's top. At only 6 years old, she was the youngest and only girl out of the styles family, she was a replica of her mother was what Harry said the day she was born and has said every day since then.

“Yes, Vivi. What’s up?” Theo asked, raising his eyebrow and looking ever so lovingly at his youngest sibling. His eyes were a darker shade of green and his hair dark brown, he was his father's twin. Standing a little over six foot at just 18 years old, he towered over the little girl.

“I don’t like that guy” Novie pointed, directing her brother's attention to the man standing a tad bit too close to their mother, who was currently standing in line to get some ice cream. “He’s looking at Mama weirdly” she states. This gets the attention of the two other styles boys, Blake and Indi, who lift their sunglasses and look over at their siblings.

They were on holiday, somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoying the last few days of the winter break before they had to get back to England to go back to school. Harry was on his stomach, snoozing away, his back smothered in the suncream y/n put on him earlier before she decided to get the kids ice cream.

Blake scoffs as he gets up from the beach towel, giving it a minute, watching the way the guy continues to ogle their mother despite the massive rock on her ring finger and the “Harry” tattoo on her collarbone. Blake was the hot-headed one, at 16 years old, he was slightly taller than Theo, his hair slighter longer. The perfect mix of his parents, definitely getting his dad's temper.

“If he as much as touches mum it’s game over” Blake states.

“I bet he’s going to ask her who we are” Indi speaks, he was the quietest out of the four. A lot more into his books and video games, and more of an introvert. He was 12, and already wise beyond his years.

“He’ll shit it when he finds out she’s our mum” Blake replies, his dark eyes staring intensely at the way the guy laughs, y/n looks over and the kids give her all a wave to which she smiles widely and waves back.

“Here we go,” Theo says, chuckling as he hears the guys gasp.

“No way you’re a mum” the guy gasps, his hand coming to lift his sunglasses off his eyes. “To an eighteen-year-old?! What! You look insanely good”

“We had him young” y/n chuckles awkwardly, looking over at the kids.

They watch on as the guy points to the ice cream that was just placed in her hand, assuming he asked to pay for it. “He’s tryna ask her out”

“That’s messed up, she’s clearly married”

“Her rings the size of Novie's head, can’t he see” Blake scoffs making Theo chuckle.

“Some guys are just divs and like married women” Theo replies, shrugging.

“That’s so fucked up”

“Right? So fucked up” Novie says making Theo sigh.

“Don’t say that Nov. Blake, watch your mouth” Theo says, before clapping his hand on the back of his brother's backs, “it’s time guys” he states as they watch the guy's hand brush over y/ns as he hands her some tissue to clean off the melting ice cream in her hand.

Theo ducks down to Novie. “You know what to do right, Novie Bear?” He fist bumps her.

“I’ve got it, Teddy Bear. Project rescue mum is underway” Theo chuckles at her nickname for him. He nods at Indi to follow her and the two set off to their mother, an innocent-looking adorning their faces.

“Mama” they hear Novie say as she wraps her hands around their mother's middle, Y/n smiles at her daughter as she hands the ice cream off to Indi who takes a lick. Y/n knows her kids like the back of her hand, she knows what they’re doing and it makes her chuckle softly to herself, just like their father she thinks. Harry was the one that instilled the project rescue mum into them, telling them to take care of their mother whenever he wasn’t around.

“Yes, baby girl? Are you alright?” Y/n asks as she ruffles her hand through her daughter's locks before looking over at her son who leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Can we go get some coconuts?” She looks up at her mother, with an innocent smile.

“Do you like coconut water?” The guy asks, causing Indi to scoff. “I could go get it for you? Would you like that?”

“No no it’s fine, truly thank you” Y/n replies just as her two older sons join her. The two boys tower over the guy and he has to look up to see them. They’re big, just like their dad, looking a lot older than their actual age.

“Hey mum, you nearly done?” Theo asks as Y/n is handed another ice cream from the man making them. Theo takes it off her with a smile.

“Nearly, just got another two left” she replies.

“It’s fine, Blake and I could wait for them, why don’t you go take Vivi to get her coconuts?” Theo offers and y/n nods before smiling.

“Thank you, angel”

“Make sure to get dad some as well, you know how he gets when he has to share his coconut water, he’s obsessed” Blake sniggers as everyone catches onto what he’s trying to imply. Harry hates coconut, especially coconut water, but that’s not important.

“Just like how he’s obsessed with you, right mama?” Novie asks, tugging on her mum's hand.

“Oh yeah, dad's insane about mum, he loves her so much” Indi speaks up, “oh look he’s awake, wave at him guys” The whole family waves at Harry who looks over with a smile, his hand up in the air. His hair was just growing back, so they stuck up awkwardly making him look so endearing. But as he gets up, his muscles flexing, it causes the guy to swallow before he excuses himself.

“Some men are disgusting, flirting with a married woman” Blake can’t help but say and without a doubt the guy heard him but he chose not to look back.

Harry comes up to his wife just as the last two ice creams are handed over to Theo. “How’s my perfect family doing?” He asks, snaking his hands around his wife’s middle before leaning in to kiss her cheek. He ruffles the boy's hair before pulling away and kissing Novie's cheek.

“Oh alright, just scaring off men as usual” Y/n laughs.

“men that have no shame” Theo adds.

“Who blatantly flirts with a woman whilst her whole family is there” Indi says and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Men who need their di-“

“Ok we get it Blake” Harry chuckles, before leading his family back.

“I swear, they’re just like you” y/n smiles, as Harry tugs her closer.

“I’ve taught them well, they know you’re our number one priority babe,” he says as he kisses her cheek before taking a quick bite out of Blake’s ice cream. The family chuckles and go back to enjoying their time under the sun.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing

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cheriladycl01 · 5 months ago

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Type of Holiday Brit? - Lando Norris x Reader

Plot: You and Lando, try and book a holiday with something you both want to do.

“Okay, but you don’t understand” you groaned to Lando as you were scrolling through multiple different travel agents on your laptop.

Tui, Virgin, British Airways.

“I think i do underhand baby” Lando chuckles back, looking over your shoulder at the tab your currently scrolling through.

“Just because your the Impulsive type of Holiday Brit doesn’t mean we have to do just that” you say, closing your laptop lid, so it’s ajar the screen still lighting up the dimming room.

“Type of Holiday Brit? What on Earth do you mean?” He chuckles having no clue what you are going in about.

“There are four different types of holidayers in the UK!” You exclaim as if it’s common knowledge that Lando should know and it’s almost appalling that he doesn’t.

“Okay and what are the four types, talk me through them” he grins placing his phone down on the sofa which would get lost in the next five seconds and he’d complain about later in when he couldn’t find it, before placing his full attention on you.

“Well there’s type one which is the UK Enjoyers where they go to different places in the UK on holiday, whether that be like … CenterParks or a Caravan down in Dorset and don’t own a passport and have never been or thought of going outside the UK” you explain and Lando nods, trying to keep himself from smiling too much but hearing you speak like this he can’t help it.

“Right okay, yeah I’ve never ever done that” he nods guessing he isn’t that type.

“Yeah that’s because you’re a rich kid holidayer!” You exclaim only for him to cock his eyebrow in amusement.

“Sorry?” He laughs asking while crossing his arms.

“Okay, so rich kid is like the kids I was always really really jealous of because they would go anywhere. Even if that means staying in New York’s finest hotel that is a room only room while paying for all your food while you are there! Or they go caving in Vietnam over winter break before going skiing in Finland after clubbing in Bali with Martin Garrixs” you prod at him, making him playing hit your shoulder knowing your were right.

“Okay okay, so I have some cool holidays! But what’s the issue with them! Why don’t you want to go on the rich kid holidays” he laughs.

“Because I’m an All Inclusive Holidayer” you say as if it’s obvious.

“Right! Of course of course” Lando laughs again before waiting for your explanation.

“I was brought up being used to all inclusive holidays in Greece, Italy, Spain, and then sometimes we’d get to go somewhere real far like the Caribbean. Beach holidays purely for relaxing. And your holidays don’t seem very relaxing… you’re always and I mean always doing something on them. And I don’t know how you can’t just relax” you chuckle explaining why you love your little beachy holidays so much.

“Okay okay. And the last one?” He asks.

“You have the Re-occurrers. They have their set destination and just keep going back because it’s the in budget comfortable choice. Like they keep going back to Disney World, or Mallorca or New York because they know it, don’t get bored by it and it’s the safe option” you smile having it all sussed out.

“Mmmm I think i would find that rather boring, wouldn’t you? There’s so many places but you stick to the same one?! Crazy” he joins in, in an almost teasing voice.

“I know right, like my parents when we would go on holiday, they’d never take me to the same place twice so that I could see as much of the world as possible!” You exclaim not realising he is in fact mocking you.

“So what, you want to do an all inclusive holiday?” He asks pulling back open your laptop and looking at some of the destinations you had in the search bars.

“We’ll maybe not just all inclusive but I would like to see you relax a little. You know loud around a pool in a hot country with a cocktail by my side and some beachy music to go along with it. But then maybe afterwards we can go do rich kid travelling for the rest of the summer break? If you aren’t needed in Monaco or Woking?” You ask, looking over his expression.

“Mmmmm so how about we book a nice 2 week all inclusive holiday. We come back to the UK. We see family and friends for a little bit while I get some work stuff done, and then we can do my type of holiday and invite Max and Pietra with us?” He asks, and you make a thinking face for a second before a big grin spreads on your face and you nod excitedly.

“I love that plan! Let’s start looking at the all inclusive first, I definitely think we should upgrade our tickets wherever we go. I know you’d struggle in economy” you poke at him and he nods, not because of the comfort side, even though he will never complain in first class or on Max’a private jet but it’s more for security reasons than anything.

“So I was thinking that maybe we could look at going …” you start but Lando gets lost halfway through distracted by the way you look right now. Excitedly talking to him about holiday destinations, a new sparkle in your eye at the prospect of some uninterrupted time with Lando.

He loved your more than anything and would do just about anything to have this look that you’ve got right now constantly on your face.

“Oooo look this one looks good! In the Maldives and look Lan there’s even a little slide going into the sea” you grin looking at the fancy and expensive looking hut in the middle of the sea.

“And look at this! Underwater dining, have you ever eaten with a shark above you?” You ask excitedly making Lando laugh and cuddle into you as you skim through the pictures to get a better look.

Eventually Lando tells you not to jump the gun on the first one you see and to continue you’re search.

“Or this one in Antigua, woah look at the beach! ITS MASSIVE” you say as you point at the white sandy beach.

“It’s nice but I think the bathroom looks a little small, I prefer the one in the Maldives for sure! Onto the next” he grins.

“Oh look at this, it’s beautiful” you say looking at the location where the palm trees hang over the Villa and the pool looks like it’s been built into the beach itself.

“Now I like this one! Where is this?” He asks clicking the pen.

“Wait when did you get a pen and pad” you ask looking at him.

“Well we need to write down the ones we like right?” He says pinching your side making your squeal in high delight that he’s helping and getting involved and from the sensation of his pinch.

You turn round fully, focus completely off your laptop and now into your loving and doting boyfriend.

“I love you so much” you say looking into his eyes, and a sigh of pure happiness escapes him as you guys hold into eye contact. You lean in after a while placing a soft kiss of his lips, gripping to the back of his neck, playing with the loose curls at the base.

“I love you too baby, now, where was that last destination. The quicker we choose somewhere the quicker we can get to bed” he winks and you shake your head laughing before sitting back in his lap leaning against him re-opening your laptop lid showing the last location that there was.

“It was Mozambique, I’d never have thought of going somewhere this beautiful when i was younger” you smile.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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chibinasuu · 2 months ago

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Ghost Ship | Straw Hats x Reader

★ requested by @supernatural-hunter1 (see here)

Summary: There’s no need to fear Davy Jones and his ship of ghosts. After all, it’s just a myth… or is it? Tags: sfw, platonic straw hats x reader, GN!reader, no use of y/n

Disclaimer: There are many myths and legends about Davy Jones and the Flying Dutchman, but the one here is my reimagined version, borrowing elements from One Piece’s Flying Dutchman lore (Fishman Island Arc, ch. 606) and some from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise.

It was a festive night onboard the Thousand Sunny.

Earlier, the Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates had begged the cook to prepare a feast tonight, without any reasons whatsoever. The cook was hesitant at first, as he was not one to use excessive ingredients when unnecessary, but with the last of the fresh supplies they got at Water 7 on the brink of losing their quality, Sanji had relented and cooked up an extravagant banquet for the crew.

Not wanting to waste a beautiful moonlit night, the Straw Hats set up picnic blankets on the Sunny’s lawn deck to enjoy their dinner. Franky had busted out his ukulele, playing a cheery tune that transformed the quiet night into a lively one. A portable metal fire pit sat in the center of the lawn, the flames providing light and warmth as the crew partied the night away.

It was not uncommon for this particular crew that a night of drinking would evolve into a night of daring each other to do stupid things. Luffy’s face was currently caked with Nami’s makeup, Zoro and Sanji were reluctantly interlocking hands as per Robin’s dare, and Chopper had one of Franky’s (clean) underwear strung between his antlers. The dares were getting more and more ridiculous as the game went on, to the point where Usopp had just challenged you to skinny-dip off the side of the ship. One glance over the railing at the dark, cold, and uninviting waters had you sitting back down on the deck.

“Yeah, right,” You scoffed and downed a shot in lieu of doing the dare, “That’d get me sent straight to Davy Jones’ locker!”

“Whose what now?” Usopp asked with his head tilted in confusion, the phrase unfamiliar to his ears.

It was such a common saying in the South Blue, where you were from, that you just blurted it out unthinkingly. There were no Southern seafarers who didn’t know about the mythical pirate Davy Jones and his ship full of ghosts.

“The Davy Jones’ locker.” You repeated matter-of-factly. Surprisingly, none of your crewmates seemed to show even a hint of recognition. You eyed them one by one, but all of them sported similar blank looks, “Oh c’mon, Davy Jones? The Flying Dutchman? Ring a bell?”

“Robin, you must know it.” You turned to the archaeologist, certain that she must have read about the legend before in one of her books, but she merely shook her head.

“No way,” you looked at your crew in disbelief, “And you call yourselves pirates?”

“Hey!” Luffy protested indignantly, “What’s a flying locker got to do with being a pirate?”

“Huh,” you shrugged, “Guess the story’s only popular in South Blue then.”

“Ooh, a story?” Chopper leaned forward toward you in anticipation, “I wanna hear it!”

“Alright then, listen up.” You looked at your friends with a sly smile, “But beware, this tale is not for the fainthearted.”

You started the story, lowering your voice in a mediocre attempt to sound spooky, “Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, a pirate crew was sailing on troubled waters when its captain – by the name of Davy Jones – suddenly fell ill and lost his mind. He killed his whole crew, chucking them off the ship one by one into the angry sea.”

Robin’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, while Zoro looked unbothered, but was listening intently nonetheless. Luffy was munching on some meat, only half paying attention. Franky had put down his ukulele, and Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette, eyes never straying away from you. Usopp, Nami, and Chopper had started to huddle together, never ones to enjoy scary stories.

“When he came to, Davy Jones realized what terrible deed he had done and blamed the gods for his madness, throwing curses at the rulers of the seas and the skies.”

The silence that now shrouded the chilly night only added to the tense atmosphere, broken just by the low whistle of the winds against the sails and the faint crash of the waves against the hull. No one dared breathe a word to interrupt as you continued your tale.

“The gods were furious and punished Davy Jones to roam the seas for eternity aboard his ship, the Flying Dutchman, doomed to ferry the souls of those lost to the sea to the world beyond, far deep through the oceanic abyss, which sailors came to know as the Davy Jones’ locker.”

Unbeknownst to the crew, a shroud of unnatural mist has started to surround the ship. Its tendrils snaked through the gaps and crevices, slowly infiltrating the deck.

“They say the Flying Dutchman still roams the seas to this day, never able to make port.” You paused for dramatic effect, “People say, that if you’re unlucky enough to encounter it, you could hear the lost souls onboard the ghost ship sing; Dead men tell no tales, dead men have no desires. Dead men don’t need jewels on their–”

“ENOUGH!!” Usopp yelled, covering his ears, “That’s enough, I don’t want to hear it anymore!”

By this point, the fog had gotten so thick that it was impossible not to notice. The crew was suddenly overcome with a sense of dread, goosebumps creeping on their skin.

“Wh-what is this mist?!” Nami shrieked, “What’s happening?! I don’t like this!”

Zoro and Sanji stood up, whipping their heads around in search of enemies or threats, but nothing emerged from within the murk. Nami and Usopp were now clinging to each other, screaming their heads off when suddenly, Chopper pointed at something in the distance and squealed, “Wh-wh-what’s that?!”

A silhouette of an old, rickety vessel materialized from beyond the mist, sailing head-on toward the Thousand Sunny. Its tattered sails swayed in the winds, a faded glow cloaking its body.

Screams of panic filled the air as Usopp, Nami, and Chopper ran around in terror.

“That’s it, I’m going inside! You guys deal with that!” Nami exclaimed, rushing towards the safety of the sleeping quarters.

“Oi, Nami, wait for me!” Usopp ran after her, Chopper closely following behind, “Can I sleep in the girls’ room tonight?!”

“Nah, man.” Zoro shook his head, “Give me monsters or devils, and I’ll fight them. But, I don’t fuck with things I can’t cut with my swords.” He said before hightailing it to the boys’ quarters.

Sanji stammered that he was “definitely not scared of ghosts, unlike the cowardly mosshead” but claimed that he wanted to make some midnight snacks and speed-walked to the kitchen. The mere mention of a midnight snack had Luffy following Sanji like a puppy, all thoughts of ghosts or whatever vanishing from his mind, and so he too, was gone.

With most of the Straw Hats cowering inside, the deck was once again plunged into a thick silence as the mysterious ship crept closer and closer.

A sudden slow clap permeated the stillness.

You looked behind you to see Robin smiling knowingly, “Incredible.” She chuckled, addressing you and the only other remaining Straw Hat on deck, “How did you two do it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Robin.” You deflected unconvincingly, trying to hold back a smile.

“Yeah, Robin, what do you mean?” Franky added with a cheeky grin, “That’s totally a real ghost ship comin’ right at us.”

“Alright, keep your secrets.” Robin said with a laugh, “I’m going to bed. Make sure you clean up nicely, hm?”

Once Robin was out of sight, Franky offered his big metal hand to you, and you slapped it in an enthusiastic high-five. The two of you broke out in laughter, ecstatic at the success – for the most part – of your harmless but elaborate prank.

“Ah, that was a good one.” He sighed, wiping a stray tear from his eye, “Did you see their faces?”

You grinned at him, “I thought we fooled everyone, but Robin’s a tough one, isn’t she?”

“She’s super smart,” Franky laughed, “I knew from the beginning that she wouldn’t buy it.”

He took out a remote from his shirt pocket and pushed the big red button on it. Instantly, the mirage of the ghost ship disappeared as the light projector hidden inside the lion figurehead’s mouth was deactivated. The smoke machines mounted through the side portholes also died down, and the thick fog surrounding the ship gradually dissipated.

Since no one was around anymore, you and Franky took up the job of cleaning up the lawn, considering it as a way to make up for the fright you gave the rest of the crew. You stacked the dirty plates, gathered all the empty booze bottles, and folded up the blankets. The big, yellow moon provided ample brightness even as Franky killed the fire.

“Franky,” You called out as you noticed something in the horizon, “I thought you shut off the machine.”

“Yeah, I did.” The cyborg replied without even looking at you, still focused on cleaning the fire pit.

A chill of uneasiness ran through you at his answer, “Then… what’s that?”

Franky looked up at your shaky voice and turned to the front of the ship, eyes bulging in shock at what met his sight.

A curtain of thick, black fog coated the ocean and sky ahead, swallowing the stars from the sky and plunging the waters into total darkness, where no moonlight reached it.

And the Sunny was sailing right at it.

You and Franky could only stare at the unfathomable phenomenon as you stood frozen side-by-side.

“Oh, we are super fucked, aren’t we?”

a/n: bonus points if you got what the thick fog at the end was supposed to be! anyway, i had so much fun writing this!! it might be a bit early for a halloween post but i hope you all enjoyed this silly little fic nonetheless 🧡

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puckinghischier · 1 month ago

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Taking Nico to Disney: Headcannons

i know this is a little…specific, but as someone who has both grown up going to and has worked at disney world…HEAR ME OUT!!!

- you’ve always wanted to go to disney with nico, but the timing has never been right with off-season training, play offs, his trips back home to visit his family, and whatever else comes up. but this time? this time you’re making it happen.

- the trip has been booked, flights arranged, and your glorious week of magic and quality time with nico was finally upon you.

- he’d be just as giddy as you are. the minute he found out about your love for the theme parks, he told you how he always wanted to go as a kid, but obviously a trip to orlando is hard for a swiss kid.

- he insisted on buying themed luggage, themed shirts, themed hats, and he even bought themed socks.

- when you mentioned matching shirts as a joke, his eyes lit up, excited at the idea. he’d search for hours for the funniest pairs, buying a couple of sets, but not telling you what they were until you were there.

- your first day, of course you’d go to the magic kingdom. you were so excited to see nico’s reactions to all of the fairytales come to life throughout the park.

- you made him walk in front of you as you walked backwards around the corner on main street, wanting to see his reaction to the castle for the first time. you were lucky he was so distracted by the large structure to notice your crying, his amazed eyes and small “wow,” as he stopped walking to take it all in really got your emotions stirred.

- he’d follow your lead all day, trailing behind you with a map while you yapped and explained all about your favorite things to do as a kid. eventually you’d take the map from him, telling him you know exactly how to get around the park. “schatz, i’m trying to see what rides i want to do, give it back,” he’d argue with a huff. “neeks, we’re doing everything, don’t worry about it.”

- you loved watching his excitement and wonder with every ride the two of you went on. your heart melted at his giggles at the scenes on pirates of the caribbean, him singing along to the german (and french) section of small world, his bewilderment at the special effects of haunted mansion, his foot taps to the beat and amusement during enchanted tiki room, his screams on space mountain, his competitiveness on the buzz light year ride, his need to lift dumbo to the top for the whole ride, and his genuine cackles at every joke during jungle cruise.

- he’d also make you stop every time he saw a photographer, wanting every picture he could get from this trip. you’d happily oblige, loving all of the different fun and cute poses the photopass photographers would have you do. and the pictures where they added little effects and characters? nico has every one saved to his phone.

- and the food? good lord nico was in calorie heaven. “what do you mean i can get a foot long hot dog?” “i read about this big ice cream sundae in a mickey sink, can we get one please?” “i can’t eat this pretzel…mickey’s looking at me!”

- speaking of mickey, when it comes time for the two of you to meet the famous mouse? nico is as excited as a kid (more than child in line in front of you, honestly). he’s nearly bouncing up and down by the time it’s your turn, speed walking to the small mouse and engulfing him in a crushing hug. mickey would point out your matching shirts, ‘laughing’ silently at his “we finish each other’s” shirt and your “sandwiches.” shirt. you’d watch nico’s chest puff out, proud he got a laugh out of mickey. your lock screen from that moment on is a candid picture of you laughing and nico’s own dimpled expression while both of you look at the mouse, amused with his implied words.

- when it comes to the fireworks at the end of the night, you’re camping out to make sure nico has the absolute best possible view. guarding your spot with your life as he goes and gets something for to two of you to snack on while you wait. “god, i’m glad you’re back, this women tried to sit her four kids down right in your spot!” you’d sigh in relief while he handed you a fried corn dog. “y/n…you should’ve just let the kids sit here, it’s fine,” he’d laugh out. “no! your first fireworks experience is going to be perfect,” you’d huff, crossing your arms in a pout.

- when the fireworks started, nico would do the cliche of standing behind you while wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder while your own hands rested atop of his wrapped around your waist. you’d hum along to the various songs incorporated into the show while nico watched intently, eyes sparkling with the images in the sky. he’d give little kisses to your cheek and neck during the section that showcases all of the different disney couples, whispering a small “thank you so much for bringing me here, i love you,” into your ear.

- the other parks? nico loved just as much. he spent hours in the star wars section of hollywood studios (and rode tower of terror as many times as you wanted). he enjoyed drinking, and more importantly eating, around the world in epcot, not caring about the amount of time he’d have to spend in the gym once the two of you got home. at animal kingdom, he’d keep dragging you from animal exhibit to animal exhibit, obsessively play carnival games in the dinoland section to win a stuffed dinosaur, and talk about how amazingly intense the avatar ride was for the rest of the day.

- and the second you two got back to jersey? immediately on the phone with his family, already planning a trip next off season to fly them out and take them with the two of you, wanting to experience the whole thing with his family like he wanted to when he was a little boy.

- and the next summer, when that trip came around, you got to watch him play tour guide to his parents and siblings. explaining to them everything you explained to him during his first trip. of course, like you always do, you started and ended your trip at magic kingdom. the last day of the trip with his family, though, he dropped to one knee during the fireworks and proposed to you right then and there. you always told him how even though people say it’s cliche, you always loved watching people get engaged in front of the castle, and now you were the one people were cheering and clapping for.

- and a year later, when the two of you were able to have the wedding of your dreams, the first place he flew you to was disney. you had booked an all inclusive, tropical island getaway for your honeymoon, but nico wanted to surprise you with a couple days in your his favorite place first.

- in true fashion, you started off your honeymoon in none other than magic kingdom. this time, however, any time the two of you would pass the spot where he proposed to you, he’d stop and tell anyone and everyone that walked by “this is where i proposed to her! and now she’s my wife!” while taking your wrist in his hand, holding your own up to show off the shiny ring on your finger. he’d even make you two get the matching bride and groom ear hats, customizing them with your wedding date. and the second he found out about the ‘happily ever after buttons?’ he was rushing to guest services to get a set for the two of you to wear (and he did, proudly, right on his chest).

- don’t even get me started on when the two of you decide to start a family, and your pregnancy is timed up perfectly with your (now annual) trip. you’d not only announce your pregnancy with a recreation of some themed announcement picture you found online, but also do your gender reveal the same trip. you’d take the sealed envelope to mickey, giving him the honor of revealing the gender of your unborn child.

- and the first trip the two of you take as a family of three?? oh god. nico is just…over the moon. he’s showing them everything, as if they’ll actually remember the trip. “and this is where your daddy proposed to your mommy, and this is where we told the world about you, and this is where your daddy ate a foot long hot dog for the first time, which is a really bad idea and he doesn’t recommend it,” he’d speak to your infant in a carrier strapped to his chest, bouncing and bobbing them along.

- and the year he lead the devils to a stanley cup win? you had the BIGGEST surprise waiting on him during the trip he still insisted your family go on. you arranged with the team to fly the stanley cup down to orlando for a day, and managed to get into contact with disney management, ensuring nico and your kids get their own, private meet and greet with mickey and the stanley cup. you worked with tom and the equipment managers and disney wardrobe experts themselves to special order a customized devils jersey for the mouse. so when nico rounded the corner into the large room, thinking it was your normal mickey greet, only to see mickey standing there, in a devils jersey beside of the cup sitting on a large table, the look on his face made all the planning and hassle worth it. the league had even sent representatives out to get their own promo pics, having nico pose with a stick in his own jersey beside the character. to this day, you still laugh at how it’s the league’s most liked picture on instagram.

- and as your family grew, the trips became better and better each year, but you always appreciated the times you and nico got to go without your kids, thinking back to that first trip you were able to show him your love for the place and watching his childlike wonder. he still tells everyone he proposed to you there every time you walk across your spot. he still points it out to your children every trip. he still makes sure your entire family is wearing matching shirts each trip. and he still has that first-trip wonder on his face each trip, still in awe of all the disney magic. but most of all, he’s in awe of you, the life you’ve built together, and your love of this place you poured into him resulting in the memories it holds for the two of you and your family.

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follows-the-bees · 2 months ago

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Stede's journey screams demisexuality to me. (And as someone who is demi, I love it.)

I've posted about a reading of Ed as demiromantic as well.

Stede doesn't leave to find (romantic) love. He set out to find himself, to find a community. And he finds that! His crew becomes his family (it's also part of why he starts crying and really starts to self-destruct in 2x7 when they start to leave.)

Along the way he finds not only a best friend, but the love of his life: in that same person. Stede's journey is a blatant queer allegory: a man who has never fit into society, who is treated poorly for not fitting into *pick your societal norm*, who finds himself through community, fixing some of his past relations, but also discovering his sexuality: gay and demisexual.

Stede and Ed's connection is based on friendship — their emotional journey. We see an instant connection in 1x4 where both of them are fascinated by each other.

Stede tries to be open with the crew beforehand, an open door policy to the cabins, various other rooms, and the library. He tries to form that connection with others (to varying degrees at first.)

But when Ed enters the picture, they immediately have that connection. They are interested in each other and their idiosyncrasies.

We see their friendship grow over the course of the next few episodes. They remain equal in all things, learning and teaching each other. We see the deepening of friendship of course in the big scene of the bathtub.

Ed shares his biggest secret (secrets technically), trusting Stede with it. And Stede responds in kind, using the term friend for the first time. Their emotional intimacy grows deeper here.

We also see their connection and friendshio in the small moments. From how well they match each other with playing/riffing off of each other, finding in one another a partner. Something they always wanted. Someone who gets them for who they are, but also meets them at that level, letting them unmask and have fun.

And in small gestures such as learning basic things about each other: Stede knowing exactly how Ed likes his tea. That Ed will be cranky that he has sand in his beard. That Ed would set the world on fire or die trying, etc.

So much of Stede's s journey is having an emotional connection to Ed, and from there a sexual one. But it takes him a while to figure it out. I don't read his season one trek as repressed but rather not ever having that connection with another human being before — particularly a man. He knows about same sex relationships (he presumably went to boarding school and is on the queerest pirate ship in the Caribbean🌈) but I don't think he ever attached it to himself.

Their friendship crosses the line at their first kiss. But the focus of the kiss isn't sexual, it's emotional. It's that sigh at finally finding the thing you always wanted but simultaneously didn't know you needed. That feeling of oh, there you are.

We don't see Stede show (romantic/sexual) interest in anyone else. (Same thing with Ed in a way, but Ed's journey is another topic.)

Even during their time apart, they are both pining for each other, no hints of feelings or acts with others.

Stede is having sex dreams about Ed at night and writing gorgeous love letters during the day. And when they finally connect again, Stede and Ed take it slow. Stede tells Ed exactly how he feels about him, and it isn't about how he wants to jump his bones. He tells him he just likes being near him. And respects Ed's boundaries, never crossing them and telling him he doesn't have to say anything back.

One of my favorite things about their relationship is their consent and bodily autonomy respect in each other. He knows Ed and respects Ed. Ed knows and respects Stede.

They are friends first and lovers second.

At the surface his dreams may be about becoming a pirate (not really being a pirate but rather using the stories of pirates he read in books to achieve his dream of getting community), but ultimately, his dream is just really getting to be himself, love himself, and in the process, he picks up a found family. It's mutual.

Stede no doubt knew about sexual attraction, particularly others having it, but not so much himself having it nor acting on it. Not until Ed at least. And when he does discover and puts into words those feelings, everything going on with his sexuality, Stede does not hesitate, he does not doubt. He goes after Ed, after love.

Watching Stede discover love for the first time, a deep emotional friendship that then evolves into a romantic and sexual one. His demisexual journey over the two seasons (so far) has been wonderful to watch and connect with.

That's my demisexual king! And queen! Everything!

I've written pieces of this before, but I wanted to combine all of it together into one post.

Happy Asexual Awareness week, loves! 🖤🩶🤍💜

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #demi!stede #demisexual #demisexual stede #edward teach #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #happy asexual awareness week #happy asexual sunday #ok i may be a week late on it #but I've been super busy and sick this week

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cherryblossompink303 · 2 months ago

Text

Patience: ~The Job of a highschool host~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: when the host club sets out to save the relationship between two students arranged to marry, you question whether or not there is hope for your own arrangement. ➼ what to expect: “Do you think that if there is hope for them there is hope for us?” ➼ warnings: none ➼ Part one | Part three

“Oh, yes. I almost forgot to mention to you ladies; next week, the Ouran Host Club is sponsoring a party."

Haruhi leaned over to you as you passed by the table that she was hosting "We're throwing a party?" you shrugged, this also being the first time hearing this, although will be questioning it afterwards.

As the current guests of the host club descend in questions and squeals at the idea of a host-club party Haruhi approaches the tiki bar where you and Kyoya are standing "The girls seem more worked up than usual" she comments, leaning against the bar.

Kyoya shrugs, not fully looking up from his clipboard "Showing some skin proves popular with the ladies" he comments flippantly, as if it were the most obvious thing on earth

Haruhi turns to you "Let me guess, you came up with the tropical paradise idea?" upon learning what your actual role entails within the host club, Haruhi has slowly started to catch on that you don't just sit around and enjoy coffee with Kyoya, despite the fact that it may look like that.

You semi-dramatically place an open palm on your chest in mock horror "Me? Never, I have no decision-making authority as a consultant, Tamaki makes all the decisions around here as president of the host club"

Slowly you drop your hand, smirking slightly "But I may or may not have left a few photo books of Bali and the Caribbean on his desk" In the corner of your eye you could have sworn you saw Kyoya smirk smugly but it must just be the heat of the host club that day.

Haruhi eventually returns to her duties as a host, sitting with the girls and drinking tea while they question why she is still in uniform. "She's doing well, don't you think?"

Kyoya finally glances up from his clipboard "She's a natural, from what I've found she had someone falling for her every month in middle school, so it makes sense that she has a natural charm here" you shouldn't be surprised that Kyoya has done a full background check on her, but you are mildly shocked on how he managed to get that information of all things.

Before you could comment you catch gaze of Kanako approaching Haruhi.

"Excuse me.”

Haruhi shakes herself away from her guests and turns to look up at the new guest, whose hands are politely folded in front of her as she gazes down at Haruhi expectantly.

“I hate to disturb, but I think it’s time for the hosts to switch clients.”

You look over to check the time on Kyoya's watch, it wasn't quite time, Haruhi still had five minutes left and not even another appointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You must be my next appointment. Miss… uh-”

“My name’s Kanako. Kanako Kasugazaki.” Kanako slots her finger under Haruhi’s chin and tilts her head upwards, catching everyone by surprise. “You’re even cuter than I expected. I’ve decided. From now on, you’re going to be my new favorite host, Haruhi.”

Oh Tamaki is going to be pissed.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“I can’t take this anymore. Hey, Boss? Why don’t you eating that commoner’s ramen and come over here to help us with the party plans?” Hikaru suggests bluntly, getting tired of the slurping sounds coming from the corner of the host club as Tamaki sulks over his 'stolen' client.

“Does it really bother you that Princess Kasugaza has taken a liking to Haruhi?” Kaoru interjects.

“He shouldn’t be surprised, she’s had the illness for a while now, hasn’t she?” Kyoya chimes in, busy typing away at his laptop, pulling in the attention of Haruhi.

“What illness?” Haruhi voices her concern. You quickly intervene. “It’s not a real illness, Haruhi. It’s metaphorical.” you assure. She breathes out a sigh of relief.

“She’s got the host hopping disease.” Kaoru slides out from behind him, mirroring him. “A.K.A. the ‘never the same boy twice’ disease.” he clarifies.

Kyoya huffs a little as if it is a great inconvenience to explain“Usually our guests pick a favorite host and then see them regularly. However, Princess Kanako tends to change her favorites on a regular basis.”

“That’s right! Cause before she chose you, she was with Tama-chan!” Honey smiles widely. You nod shortly.

“Oh. So he’s upset because I took her from him?”

“SHUT UP! I COULDN’T CARE LESS!” Tamaki makes a sudden appearance, startling Honey. “Ugh! I’m running out of patience! Haruhi, it’s time you started dressing like a girl!” he pushes a very demanding finger in her face.

You sigh in the corner, pinching the bridge of your nose "Tamaki you can't just do that" You mutter but no one seems to take notice.

"I don’t understand how you could be so popular with the ladies when you yourself are a lady!” Tamaki fusses childishly. You sigh and begin to zone out on Kyoya’s laptop screen. “No one in the entire school knows the truth accept for those of us here!”

“Yeah, she opted out of taking gym classes.” Hikaru pipes in obnoxiously from Tamaki’s side, his left hand raised.“And the attendance numbers are all mixed up together so no one can tell.” Kaoru is stationed on the other side of Tamaki, his right hand raised.

Tamaki disappears and reappears within a second with a large chest. He throws it open and begins digging inside for something. “That’s enough, Haruhi, now you listen to Daddy!” He pulls out a large framed picture of Haruhi in middle school back before she had cut her hair.

“DADDY WANTS YOU TO GO BACK TO THE WAY YOU WERE!”

“DON’T GO BLOWING UP MY PHOTOS WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST!” Haruhi retaliates angrily as she acknowledges the photo. "Where is everyone getting these photos from?" You muttered in what was meant to be a throwaway line but instead it earns a chuckle from Kyoya, he didn't say anything but it made the answer to your question glaringly obvious. You should have known.

Tamaki places the photo on the wall, sobbing before it like its an altar to be worshipped. The rest of the host club, you included, gather around the photo and stare at it in awe. “Wow, that doesn’t look like her at all. Haruhi, I like your long hair.” You lean forward to inspect it further.

“The more I look at this picture, the more amazed I am.” Kaoru comments, knowing it will get on Haruhi's nerves.

“How could this…” Kaoru continues, turning to Haruhi from her photo, “possibly become that?” He points to her in what you hoped was faux disgust.

“The day before school started, one of the kids in my neighborhood got some gum in my hair. It’s a real pain to get gum out of long hair, so I decided to cut it all off. I didn’t care if I looked like a dude, you know?” Haruhi shrugs it off.

“A girl should never refer to herself as a dude! MAMA! Haruhi’s using those dirty boy words again!” Tamaki wails pathetically. You let out a puff of air, exasperated.

“I’m sorry, but who is mama?” Kaoru turns to Kyoya with a bored expression. Kyoya sighs. “Well, based on gender I’m assuming it’s Y/N…” He groans. You choke on air at the assumption.

“Me? No Kyoya I think he's talking about you, if he's referring to himself as daddy" You watch as the colour drains from his face in realisation. “Look, I don’t see what you’re crying about. Working as a host, I can pay back more of my debt. It’ll never happen if I’m just an errand boy.”

"do you have formal dancing experience? You’ll need it at the party.” Hikaru attempts to distract from tamaki's sobs. Haruhi’s face goes blank at the question.

“Hah… no, but the part doesn’t have anything to do with my quota, right? I’m not interested in going to events so if I could be excused-” Haruhi’s nervous rambling is cut short by Tamaki, materializing out of thin air with an idea forming quickly.

“Definitely not. A refined gentleman must know how to dance. If you want to live the life of a host that badly, you’re going to have to show us how far you’re willing to go, Haruhi.”

Tamaki straightens and positions himself as if he were dancing with a partner. “I order you to master dancing the waltz in one week; And you will demonstrate it for us at the party~” Tamaki spins elegantly, and finishes with an accusing finger in Haruhi’s direction.

“Or I’ll tell the entire school that you’re a girl and knock you back down to errand boy!”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You had zoned out on watching Kanako teach Haruhi to dance a while ago, fingers mindlessly tapping against the side of your tea cup. "What is it about this party anyway? Why did none of you tell me?" Kyoya shrugged, returning to scribbling whatever observations he was taking in that day "Must have slipped our minds, we don't need you there as a consultant but Tamaki wants you there as a guest"

"A guest? I'm not a client" Kyoya laughs a little under his breath "No, you are not, but he feels like it may be handy to have you there just in case anything happens" You supposed it made some sense, there always seemed to be something going on with the host club, although you weren't too sure whether or not it was Kyoya's wording but that logic seemed to be strangely unfit to come from Tamaki.

After a while Haruhi finally sat to have tea with Kanako“Thank you so much for allowing me to practice with you, I really appreciate it.” Haruhi beams gratefully.

“Oh, no problem. I heard that you’re not seeing any customers today so that you can practice dancing. I’m glad I got to spend this time alone with you.” Kanako places her chin delicately on her folded hands to stare at her.

“Oh, my. This is a new tea set, isn’t it? It’s Ginori…” Kanako lifts a tea cup to inspect it carefully as Kyoya is positioned near her.

“You have a keen eye, mademoiselle. In fact, we just received them yesterday.” Kyoya confirms.

“Y/N decided that it was about time for the club to upgrade it’s tea sets.” Kyoya adds further. You wave it off "You'll be surprised how big of an effect it has"

“I see. What a pretty color… lovely…” Kanako’s voice seems to fade as she speaks about the tea set. Her excitement is much less than it was a few seconds ago, though she still seems to be wearing a sad smile.

You did not get the chance to stop Haruhi from commenting“You must really be into tableware, huh?”

Kanako anxiously places the tea cup back down“Ah! Not really, I mean no of course I’m not! Whatever would give you that idea?”

You glance at Kyoya with concern, and he affirms your suspicions with the subtlest of nods.“Hello? I’m here with the new teacups your ordered!”

Kanako’s nervous fidgeting comes to a halt at the sound. She doesn’t dare turn to face the newcomer.

As you turn to see who it was you smile and approach him “Thank you very much.” You gently accept the box into your grasp and hoist it up so that you’re carrying it comfortably.

“Every item that you’ve chosen for us has been extremely popular with the ladies. I’m quite impressed.” Kyoya appears at your side.

“Well, that’s good to hear.” the boy smiles.

Haruhi abandons her place next to Kanako, who tries to pretend that she doesn't exist. “So, do you sell tea sets?”

“No, I’m just a regular student. Can’t you tell by the uniform?”

An anxious chuckle sounds from where Kanako is seated.

“Oh, Haruhi. You’re so funny.” Kanako’s laughing draws the attention of all of you.

She seems out of character, a certain haughtiness to her voice that confuses you. “I can’t blame you for not knowing, after all, he doesn’t really look like an heir to a first class company.”

The comment seemed to catch him off guard despite the fact that it was fairly common knowledge. “First class company?” Haruhi breaks the silence.

Kyoya begins his explanation. “His family business, the Suzushima Trading Company, deals with primarily in the importing of tableware. They currently have the top market share in the country.”

"He has a great eye for fine china, don’t you, Suzushima?” Kyoya finishes.

“You think? I’ve still got a lot to learn. But, thank you.” Shuzoshima blushes at the compliment.

“Aren’t you leaving next month to study abroad in England?” Kyoya bluntly inquires.“Kyoya.” You hiss in a hushed whisper. He pays you no mind.

You look over your shoulder to observe Kanako, her head hanging dismally as she listens to the discussion.

“Yes, I am. Well… I better go now.”

Kanako is seated oddly silent in her chair, unmoving as her hair moves to cover her face, still gripping the teacup with both hands.

“I get the feeling you and that guy are kinda close.” Haruhi arrives behind Kanako. You straighten and grip her arm tightly, a warning.

“Ah! Don’t be ridiculous! We hardly know each other! What makes you say that, Haruhi!?” kanakao frantically waves away the idea as if it were absurd.

She desperately stood from her seat in search of escape. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me… take care.” she scurries out the door without another word.

“Haru-chan!” Honey appears from thin air, jumping onto Haruhi's back“Guess what? They do know each other! Suzushima is Kasuga-chan’s fiancé!”

“Kyoya. How long have you known about this?” Tamaki asks as if its not known that Kyoya knows everything about everyone at this point.

“About the two of them being engaged? Well, as you know, I conduct general searches on all of our customers. The two of them were childhood friends, it seems that their engagement was arranged by their parents. I didn’t think the information would benefit us so I disregarded it.”

“I see.” Tamaki glares.

Kyoya broke out his notes of Suzushima which you attempt not to question why he just so happens to have them on him “Toru Suzushima. Outstanding grades, fair social status. He’s ordinary looking, but he’s reliable. If I had to fault him for anything-”

The twins appear over his shoulder “He doesn’t have much presence.” Hikaru interjects. “And he’s faint hearted.” Kaoru adds.

“In other words, he’s painfully boring.” Kyoya claps the book closed.

Honey sits with his legs wrapped around Mori’s neck atop his shoulders. “Suzushima’s a good boy, right?” he asks, Mori responding with a blank 'yes'

“Alright, everyone. We’ll have to work on our strategy.” Tamaki announces.

“Which one?” The entire host club choruses.

“Men, it is our responsibility, as members of the elite Ouran Host Club, to make every girl happy!”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You quickly found yourself as a wallflower at the party, not wanting to take any attention away from the actual clients. You hadn't worn this dress in a while, you weren't even sure it fit you right.

Kyoya slowly wandered over to you "Tamaki has a plan." You already know what he actually meant: Tamaki has a plan and it requires you to do something that you're not going to like. You look up to him in question, silently prompting him to go on."It's better if you just come with me"

You nodded, knowing by now that you probably weren't going to get an answer anyway. However what you didn't know was that the Hitachiin twins was in the room next-door with an entire makeover kit.

You can't even get a word in before the twins pounce on you, attempting to make you unrecognisable "Agh! Why are we doing this!?"

"In order to push the two of them together we need something drastic to happen, Suzushima needs to realise that he doesn't want to be with anyone if it's not Kanako" Hikaru explains matter of factly while Kaoru fits you with a wig "Surely this isn't going to work, I've met the guy so many times, he'll know it's me!"

"We are hoping that he'll have too much on his mind to notice"

The next thing you knew you were in an admittedly better-fitting dress and a wig that is making you consider the possibility of dying your hair. "Well you certainly look different" Kyoya spoke up, looking upon you with a look you can't exactly place but it was almost one of unsettle.

"I must admit, if nothing else the twins have an eye for fashion, I prefer this dress much more" you shrugs, Kyoya's brow lifts slightly "Really? I preferred the other one, purple suits you" It was not often that Kyoya paid anyone compliments, let alone one of aesthetics, not unless it puts money in his pocket. "...thank you?"

Kyoya didn't let the moment carry on for much longer, informing you that Suzushima is in the classroom opposite them.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"You're the one who wrote this letter? You're totally different than what I imagined" on one hand a sense of relief washed over you upon finding that he did not recognise you, it was quicky replaced by the fear of what on earth the boys think a love letter from a teenage girl sounds like.

As Suzushima passes over the letter your fears are realised and you become extremely glad that they had disguised you for this.

"Excuse me. Have we met somewhere before?" Shoot he's catching on "No! No of course not, I think this is the first time we've ever spoke" you frantically waved your arms in dismissal.

"I'm sorry, I'm flattered by your letter but I'm afraid I don't feel the same way. You see, another girl already has my heart"

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know you had a girlfriend" Suzushima stares out the window "Unfortunately she's not my girlfriend, in fact I think she's completely over me. In full honesty, she'd be happier with someone more self-confident than me"

"That's why I decided I need to change. I want to see the world, and hopefully, become a better man. I know it's selfish, but I wonder if she'll wait for me"

You didn't know what to say, you couldn't help but feel a degree of envy, you knew that the difference between your engagement and theirs was that they were in love. But the effort and lengths the two of them were going to for the hope of making their engagement work was enviable.

But if there was something you knew well, it was that arranged marriages take time, and patience.

"I don't know, but she might wait, but you need to give her some hope that there is something that she is waiting for. You'll never know if you don't tell her how you feel."

Before you knew it Kanako was stood in the open doorway, Suzushima chasing after her.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

As the couple waltzed as the final dance of the night you leant against the wall of the patio overlooking the school gardens. You barely noticed Kyoya approach you, his footsteps near silent. "Their situation is not dissimilar to ours you know"

He joined you in leaning against the wall next to you, also watching he dance. "Well, they met a lot younger than we did" you noted, knowing that apparently the two of them had known each other since childhood. He hums in agreement "that's true"

"Unless this is the moment you're choosing to confess your love to me Kyoya" you shot him a sly smirk, knowing that Kyoya was not that type of romantic. He hummed out a laugh "You know what I mean"

"I do" you pause for a moment, watching the final moments of the dance "...Kyoya?" he adverted his gaze from the gardens below to you "Do you think if there is hope for them there is hope for us?"

His eyebrows raised in shock, not expecting you to be so forward. "Are you confessing your love for me now?" you laugh, shaking your head "No, but I mean... I think that neither of us would take offence to saying that we are not close, we don't know how to talk to each other unless its about business. So far that's been fine, but after we graduate we won't have the host club in common anymore"

Kyoya didn't know how to react, the concept of an arranged marriage leading to friendship or even love was somewhat foreign to him, he didn't even know that you had felt that way. But maybe that could change.

"I think there could be hope"

Next time on patience 'Beware the physical exam!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor

#kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya ootori #kyoya x reader #ohshc #ohshc x reader #ohshc kyoya #ouran high school host club #ouran kyoya #ouran highschool host club #ouran host club #ouran hshc

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thoughtportal · 1 month ago

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A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear: The Utopian Plot to Liberate an American Town (and Some Bears)

PublicAffairs, 288 pp., $28.00

But don’t worry—it almost never comes to this. As one park service PSA noted this summer, bears “usually just want to be left alone. Don’t we all?” In other words, if you encounter a black bear, try to look big, back slowly away, and trust in the creature’s inner libertarian. Unless, that is, the bear in question hails from certain wilds of western New Hampshire. Because, as Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling’s new book suggests, that unfortunate animal may have a far more aggressive disposition, and relate to libertarianism first and foremost as a flavor of human cuisine.

Hongoltz-Hetling is an accomplished journalist based in Vermont, a Pulitzer nominee and George Polk Award winner. A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear: The Utopian Plot to Liberate an American Town (and Some Bears) sees him traversing rural New England as he reconstructs a remarkable, and remarkably strange, episode in recent history. This is the so-called Free Town Project, a venture wherein a group of libertarian activists attempted to take over a tiny New Hampshire town, Grafton, and transform it into a haven for libertarian ideals—part social experiment, part beacon to the faithful, Galt’s Gulch meets the New Jerusalem. These people had found one another largely over the internet, posting manifestos and engaging in utopian daydreaming on online message boards. While their various platforms and bugbears were inevitably idiosyncratic, certain beliefs united them: that the radical freedom of markets and the marketplace of ideas was an unalloyed good; that “statism” in the form of government interference (above all, taxes) was irredeemably bad. Left alone, they believed, free individuals would thrive and self-regulate, thanks to the sheer force of “logic,” “reason,” and efficiency. For inspirations, they drew upon precedents from fiction (Ayn Rand loomed large) as well as from real life, most notably a series of micro-nation projects ventured in the Pacific and Caribbean during the 1970s and 1980s.

None of those micro-nations, it should be observed, panned out, and things in New Hampshire don’t bode well either—especially when the humans collide with a newly brazen population of bears, themselves just “working to create their own utopia,” property lines and market logic be damned. The resulting narrative is simultaneously hilarious, poignant, and deeply unsettling. Sigmund Freud once described the value of civilization, with all its “discontents,” as a compromise product, the best that can be expected from mitigating human vulnerability to “indifferent nature” on one hand and our vulnerability to one another on the other. Hongoltz-Hetling presents, in microcosm, a case study in how a politics that fetishizes the pursuit of “freedom,” both individual and economic, is in fact a recipe for impoverishment and supercharged vulnerability on both fronts at once. In a United States wracked by virus, mounting climate change, and ruthless corporate pillaging and governmental deregulation, the lessons from one tiny New Hampshire town are stark indeed.

“In a country known for fussy states with streaks of independence,” Hongoltz-Hetling observes, “New Hampshire is among the fussiest and the streakiest.” New Hampshire is, after all, the Live Free or Die state, imposing neither an income nor a sales tax, and boasting, among other things, the highest per capita rate of machine gun ownership. In the case of Grafton, the history of Living Free—so to speak—has deep roots. The town’s Colonial-era settlers started out by ignoring “centuries of traditional Abenaki law by purchasing land from founding father John Hancock and other speculators.” Next, they ran off Royalist law enforcement, come to collect lumber for the king, and soon discovered their most enduring pursuit: the avoidance of taxes. As early as 1777, Grafton’s citizens were asking their government to be spared taxes and, when they were not, just stopped paying them.

Nearly two and a half centuries later, Grafton has become something of a magnet for seekers and quirky types, from adherents of the Unification Church of the Reverend Sun Myung Moon to hippie burnouts and more. Particularly important for the story is one John Babiarz, a software designer with a Krusty the Klown laugh, who decamped from Big-Government-Friendly Connecticut in the 1990s to homestead in New Hampshire with his equally freedom-loving wife, Rosalie. Entering a sylvan world that was, Hongoltz-Hetling writes, “almost as if they had driven through a time warp and into New England’s revolutionary days, when freedom outweighed fealty and trees outnumbered taxes,” the two built a new life for themselves, with John eventually coming to head Grafton’s volunteer fire department (which he describes as a “mutual aid” venture) and running for governor on the libertarian ticket.

Although John’s bids for high office failed, his ambitions remained undimmed, and in 2004 he and Rosalie connected with a small group of libertarian activists. Might not Grafton, with its lack of zoning laws and low levels of civic participation, be the perfect place to create an intentional community based on Logic and Free Market Principles? After all, in a town with fewer than 800 registered voters, and plenty of property for sale, it would not take much for a committed group of transplants to establish a foothold, and then win dominance of municipal governance. And so the Free Town Project began. The libertarians expected to be greeted as liberators, but from the first town meeting, they faced the inconvenient reality that many of Grafton’s presumably freedom-loving citizens saw them as outsiders first, and compatriots second—if at all. Tensions flared further when a little Googling revealed what “freedom” entailed for some of the new colonists. One of the original masterminds of the plan, a certain Larry Pendarvis, had written of his intention to create a space honoring the freedom to “traffic organs, the right to hold duels, and the God-given, underappreciated right to organize so-called bum fights.” He had also bemoaned the persecution of the “victimless crime” that is “consensual cannibalism.” (“Logic is a strange thing,” observes Hongoltz-Hetling.)

While Pendarvis eventually had to take his mail-order Filipina bride business and dreams of municipal takeovers elsewhere (read: Texas), his comrades in the Free Town Project remained undeterred. Soon, they convinced themselves that, evidence and reactions to Pendarvis notwithstanding, the Project must actually enjoy the support of a silent majority of freedom-loving Graftonites. How could it not? This was Freedom, after all. And so the libertarians keep coming, even as Babiarz himself soon came to rue the fact that “the libertarians were operating under vampire rules—the invitation to enter, once offered, could not be rescinded.” The precise numbers are hard to pin down, but ultimately the town’s population of a little more than 1,100 swelled with 200 new residents, overwhelmingly men, with very strong opinions and plenty of guns.

Hongoltz-Hetling profiles many newcomers, all of them larger-than-life, yet quite real. The people who joined the Free Town Project in its first five years were, as he describes, “free radicals”—men with “either too much money or not enough,” with either capital to burn or nothing to lose. There’s John Connell of Massachusetts, who arrived on a mission from God, liquidated his savings, and bought the historic Grafton Center Meetinghouse, transforming it into the “Peaceful Assembly Church,” an endeavor that mixed garish folk art, strange rants from its new pastor (Connell himself), and a quixotic quest to secure tax exemption while refusing to acknowledge the legitimacy of the IRS to grant it. There’s Adam Franz, a self-described anti-capitalist who set up a tent city to serve as “a planned community of survivalists,” even though no one who joined it had any real bushcraft skills. There’s Richard Angell, an anti-circumcision activist known as “Dick Angel.” And so on. As Hongoltz-Hetling makes clear, libertarianism can indeed have a certain big-tent character, especially when the scene is a new landscape of freedom-lovers making “homes out of yurts and RVs, trailers and tents, geodesic domes and shipping containers.”

If the Libertarian vision of Freedom can take many shapes and sizes, one thing is bedrock: “Busybodies” and “statists” need to stay out of the way. And so the Free Towners spent years pursuing an aggressive program of governmental takeover and delegitimation, their appetite for litigation matched only by their enthusiasm for cutting public services. They slashed the town’s already tiny yearly budget of $1 million by 30 percent, obliged the town to fight legal test case after test case, and staged absurd, standoffish encounters with the sheriff to rack up YouTube hits. Grafton was a poor town to begin with, but with tax revenue dropping even as its population expanded, things got steadily worse. Potholes multiplied, domestic disputes proliferated, violent crime spiked, and town workers started going without heat. “Despite several promising efforts,” Hongoltz-Hetling dryly notes, “a robust Randian private sector failed to emerge to replace public services.” Instead, Grafton, “a haven for miserable people,” became a town gone “feral.” Enter the bears, stage right.

Black bears, it should be stressed, are generally a pretty chill bunch. The woods of North America are home to some three-quarters of a million of them; on average, there is at most one human fatality from a black bear attack per year, even as bears and humans increasingly come into contact in expanding suburbs and on hiking trails. But tracking headlines on human-bear encounters in New England in his capacity as a regional journalist in the 2000s, Hongoltz-Hetling noticed something distressing: The black bears in Grafton were not like other black bears. Singularly “bold,” they started hanging out in yards and on patios in broad daylight. Most bears avoid loud noises; these casually ignored the efforts of Graftonites to run them off. Chickens and sheep began to disappear at alarming rates. Household pets went missing, too. One Graftonite was playing with her kittens on her lawn when a bear bounded out of the woods, grabbed two of them, and scarfed them down. Soon enough, the bears were hanging out on porches and trying to enter homes.

Combining wry description with evocative bits of scientific fact, Hongoltz-Hetling’s portrayal of the bears moves from comical if foreboding to downright terrifying. These are animals that can scent food seven times farther than a trained bloodhound, that can flip 300-pound stones with ease, and that can, when necessary, run in bursts of speed rivaling a deer’s. When the bears finally start mauling humans—attacking two women in their homes—Hongoltz-Hetling’s relation of the scenes is nightmarish. “If you look at their eyes, you understand,” one survivor tells him, “that they are completely alien to us.”

What was the deal with Grafton’s bears? Hongoltz-Hetling investigates the question at length, probing numerous hypotheses for why the creatures have become so uncharacteristically aggressive, indifferent, intelligent, and unafraid. Is it the lack of zoning, the resulting incursion into bear habitats, and the reluctance of Graftonites to pay for, let alone mandate, bear-proof garbage bins? Might the bears be deranged somehow, perhaps even disinhibited and emboldened by toxoplasmosis infections, picked up from eating trash and pet waste from said unsecured bins? There can be no definitive answer to these questions, but one thing is clear: The libertarian social experiment underway in Grafton was uniquely incapable of dealing with the problem. “Free Towners were finding that the situations that had been so easy to problem-solve in the abstract medium of message boards were difficult to resolve in person.”

Grappling with what to do about the bears, the Graftonites also wrestled with the arguments of certain libertarians who questioned whether they should do anything at all—especially since several of the town residents had taken to feeding the bears, more or less just because they could. One woman, who prudently chose to remain anonymous save for the sobriquet “Doughnut Lady,” revealed to Hongoltz-Hetling that she had taken to welcoming bears on her property for regular feasts of grain topped with sugared doughnuts. If those same bears showed up on someone else’s lawn expecting similar treatment, that wasn’t her problem. The bears, for their part, were left to navigate the mixed messages sent by humans who alternately threw firecrackers and pastries at them. Such are the paradoxes of Freedom. Some people just “don’t get the responsibility side of being libertarians,” Rosalie Babiarz tells Hongoltz-Hetling, which is certainly one way of framing the problem.

Pressed by bears from without and internecine conflicts from within, the Free Town Project began to come apart. Caught up in “pitched battles over who was living free, but free in the right way,” the libertarians descended into accusing one another of statism, leaving individuals and groups to do the best (or worst) they could. Some kept feeding the bears, some built traps, others holed up in their homes, and still others went everywhere toting increasingly larger-caliber handguns. After one particularly vicious attack, a shadowy posse formed and shot more than a dozen bears in their dens. This effort, which was thoroughly illegal, merely put a dent in the population; soon enough, the bears were back in force.

Meanwhile, the dreams of numerous libertarians came to ends variously dramatic and quiet. A real estate development venture known as Grafton Gulch, in homage to the dissident enclave in Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged, went belly-up. After losing a last-ditch effort to secure tax exemption, a financially ruined Connell found himself unable to keep the heat on at the Meetinghouse; in the midst of a brutal winter, he waxed apocalyptic and then died in a fire. Franz quit his survivalist commune, which soon walled itself off into a prisonlike compound, the better to enjoy freedom. And John Babiarz, the erstwhile inaugurator of the Project, became the target of relentless vilification by his former ideological cohorts, who did not appreciate his refusal to let them enjoy unsecured blazes on high-wildfire–risk afternoons. When another, higher-profile libertarian social engineering enterprise, the Free State Project, received national attention by promoting a mass influx to New Hampshire in general (as opposed to just Grafton), the Free Town Project’s fate was sealed. Grafton became “just another town in a state with many options,” options that did not have the same problem with bears.

Or at least—not yet. Statewide, a perverse synergy between conservationist and austerity impulses in New Hampshire governance has translated into an approach to “bear management” policy that could accurately be described as laissez-faire. When Graftonites sought help from New Hampshire Fish and Game officials, they received little more than reminders that killing bears without a license is illegal, and plenty of highly dubious victim-blaming to boot. Had not the woman savaged by a bear been cooking a pot roast at the time? No? Well, nevertheless. Even when the state has tried to rein in the population with culls, it has been too late. Between 1998 and 2013, the number of bears doubled in the wildlife management region that includes Grafton. “Something’s Bruin in New Hampshire—Learn to Live with Bears,” the state’s literature advises.

The bear problem, in other words, is much bigger than individual libertarian cranks refusing to secure their garbage. It is a problem born of years of neglect and mismanagement by legislators, and, arguably, indifference from New Hampshire taxpayers in general, who have proved reluctant to step up and allocate resources to Fish and Game, even as the agency’s traditional source of funding—income from hunting licenses—has dwindled. Exceptions like Doughnut Lady aside, no one wants bears in their backyard, but apparently no one wants to invest sustainably in institutions doing the unglamorous work to keep them out either. Whether such indifference and complacency gets laundered into rhetoric of fiscal prudence, half-baked environmentalism, or individual responsibility, the end result is the same: The bears abide—and multiply.

Their prosperity also appears to be linked to man-made disasters that have played out on a national and global scale—patterns of unsustainable construction and land use, and the climate crisis. More than once, Hongoltz-Hetling flags the fact that upticks in bear activity unfold alongside apparently ever more frequent droughts. Drier summers may well be robbing bears of traditional plant and animal sources of food, even as hotter winters are disrupting or even ending their capacity to hibernate. Meanwhile, human garbage, replete with high-calorie artificial ingredients, piles up, offering especially enticing treats, even in the dead of winter—particularly in places with zoning and waste management practices as chaotic as those in Grafton, but also in areas where suburban sprawl is reaching farther into the habitats of wild animals. The result may be a new kind of bear, one “torn between the unique dangers and caloric payloads that humans provide—they are more sleep-deprived, more anxious, more desperate, and more twitchy than the bear that nature produced.” Ever-hungry for new frontiers in personal autonomy and market emancipation, human beings have altered the environment with the unintended result of empowering newly ravenous bears to boot.

Ignoring institutional failure and mounting crises does not make them go away. But some may take refuge in confidence that, when the metaphorical chickens (or, rather, bears) finally come home to roost, the effects are never felt equally. When bears show up in higher-income communities like Hanover (home to Dartmouth College), Hongoltz-Hetling notes, they get parody Twitter accounts and are promptly evacuated to wildernesses in the north; poorer rural locales are left to fend for themselves, and the residents blamed for doing what they can. In other words, the “unintended natural selection of the bears that are trying to survive alongside modern humans” is unfolding along with competition among human beings amid failing infrastructure and scarce resources, a struggle with Social Darwinist dynamics of its own.

The distinction between a municipality of eccentric libertarians and a state whose response to crisis is, in so many words, “Learn to Live With It” may well be a matter of degree rather than kind. Whether it be assaults by bears, imperceptible toxoplasmosis parasites, or a way of life where the freedom of markets ultimately trumps individual freedom, even the most cocksure of Grafton’s inhabitants must inevitably face something beyond and bigger than them. In that, they are hardly alone. Clearly, when it comes to certain kinds of problems, the response must be collective, supported by public effort, and dominated by something other than too-tidy-by-half invocations of market rationality and the maximization of individual personal freedom. If not, well, then we had all best get some practice in learning when and how to play dead, and hope for the best.

#article #new hampshire wildcats #the new republic #bears #ecology #economics #urban planning

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sturn-saturn · 4 months ago

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suntans and popsicles

pairing: fem!reader x husband!matt

warnings: just fluff :) not proofread

it was mid august. the sun shining and beaming down. a vacation that’s much needed after months of work that exhausted you and matt.

you both decided to book a 5 day trip to aruba with your three year old daughter mara. you’ve been dreaming of coming here since you were 13. the beautiful, blue, caribbean beaches, the delicious food. everything about this island seemed enjoyable.

seeing as this is an island, going to the beach everyday is essential. family time is extremely important to you so this trip is a great way to spend time with the two most important people in your life.

“DADDY, DADDY. BEACH!” mara yells out as she starts running on the sand.

“yes! we are at the beach!” matt says running after her, picking her up and placing her on top of his shoulders.

you set up your beach chairs and umbrella for some shade because the heat here is unbearable sometimes.

“matt, honey! could you bring mara here!” you call out.

your daughter runs into your arms and hugs you. “mommy the water is blue!”

“it’s very blue, isn’t it?”

“mhm!”

“matt. could you pass me the sunscreen?” you ask your husband “okay mara, mommy’s gonna put sunscreen on you so it can protect you from the sun.”

“mommy i thought you say sun was good for you?” she says a little confused.

“the sun is very good for you, but sometimes the sun can hurt you if you don’t protect your skin from the heat.”

“which is why sunscreen is important, sweet girl.” matt adds on.

you start to apply the sunscreen on her arms, legs, back, neck, and some of your face sunscreen on her face and putting her arm floaters and life jacket on.

“there, all done!”

“ALL DONE!” mara repeats.

you and matt finish applying your sunscreen and take mara hand in hand and walk towards the blue caribbean waters.

“oh yeah. this is nice.” matt says. “thanks for suggesting this place baby.”

“yeah thanks baby!” mara giggles.

“no thank you mara.”

“for what mommy?”

“for being the best gift to mommy and daddy.”

matt looks at your daughter then looks at you you and has a wide smile on his face.

“alright who’s ready to swim?” he asks.

“ME. I AM!” mara yells.

as you get a bit deeper into the water, you and matt hold onto mara and let her splash around.

“babe, really, thanks for suggesting aruba, i already love it here.”

“i love it too, matt.” you give him a quick kiss. “so should we get a vacation home here?”

“alright, don’t push it lady. but we can talk about it.”

“okay, we’ll talk.” you smile.

“talk about what mommy?”

“we were talking about how we’re getting you a popsicle after!”

“popsicle! mommy, daddy, can i get purple?”

“honey you want the grape one?” matt asks softly.

“mhm! grandpa loves purple one so i like purple one too!”

“oh, you are definitely your grandpas granddaughter.” matt laughs.

you, matt, and your biggest blessing make your way to a little shop on the beach to get your daughter a sweet treat.

“you’re the best mommy and daddy ever!”

“you’re the best mara ever!” matt picks her up and blows a raspberry on her cheek as she bursts out in a fit of giggles.

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qbdatabase · 1 year ago

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Daily Book - The Human Origins of Beatrice Porter and Other Essential Ghosts

The Human Origins of Beatrice Porter and Other Essential Ghosts Soraya Palmer Adult Fiction, 2023, 288 pg Jamaican-Trinidadian female mC; Jamaican-Trinidadian butch nonbinary lesbian female MC (sisters); older Trinidadian female MC with cancer and migraines (mother) Sisters Zora and Sasha Porter are drifting apart. Bearing witness to their father’s violence and their mother’s worsening…

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#200 pg #2020s #adult books #bookclub #coming of age #female protagonist #fiction #lgbtqia #literary fiction #magical realism #queer books #setting: Caribbean

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saintvainglorious · 11 months ago

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My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

#bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #my books #black sails #silverflint #fanfiction #bsanniversary #10yearsblacksails #10bsfest

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madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

Chapter 002: Wing Man

You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020

word count: 7.2k words

NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol

pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)

author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl<3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

“With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

#the babyboyification of steve harrington #daddy eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson smut #Steve #steve harrington #Steve harrington smut #Steve and reader #Eddie and trader

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