#if i see any shipping between then its on fucking sight

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (Interlude): Like A Record Scratch

a/n: ok so this is a lot less lovey dovey than we are used to with cass and john and i am not at all sorry about it because we are building up to the big wisconsin fight moment between them. this fic has them in wyoming for the wedding of gale and marge and its our first glimpse into how they are doing post-war and how they are so not dealing with the trauma of being prisoners of war. please come yell at me for the beating i put them through in this interlude. love you!

tw: discussions of miscarriage

There was something exhilarating about walking into the lobby of a hotel. Cass had never been to Wyoming, or anywhere out West really, which aided in her excitement at every sight and sound and smell. She had resisted the urge to hang her head out the window of the taxi from the airport but had smiled at the scenery the entire way and squeezed John’s hand with every glimpse of a mountain or a horse to make sure he saw it too. It had been so long since she’d seen the rolling fields of America and the freedom that came on the back of a horse and she was feeling the sensation of life breathing back into her lungs with every inch traveled.

“Oh, John, isn’t it lovely?” There was a fire roaring to her left, exposed wooden beams along the ceiling and antlers lining the balcony above the reception desk. “It’s just as Marge described.” Cass turned to see her husband who was carrying two large suitcases. Perhaps a quarter of one contained the minimal items he would need for the weekend wedding of his best friend. The rest was a portion of what Cass would require.

“It is lovely, baby.” He kissed her cheek once he reached her. “You want to sit by the fire while I check us in?”

“No, I need to ensure my packages have arrived.” 

“Packages?” he asked the back of his wife’s head as she was already strolling confidently towards the desk. He had to admire the sway of her hips for a beat before following. She walked like she owned the place. Damn did he love her. “Good morning. Reservation should be under John Egan.” He made sure to catch up to her before she could check in. A husband should always take charge of things like this. At least, that is what he thought. Being a husband felt new to him even if it had been almost two years. There had been no time to learn or try and fail just to try again. Nothing about their marriage had been conventional and John felt he was on a tight rope in his efforts not to fuck it up. If that meant being a bit more forward, a bit more assertive, leaning into the traditions of the role a bit heavier then so be it.

“I see your name right here, sir. We’ve also received the trunks you had shipped and have already delivered them to your room.” He blanched at the word trunks.

“That is wonderful to hear, thank you. There are a few items in there that will require ironing,” Cass said. John had seen her iron before. He didn’t think there was any reason she’d need a member of housekeeping to assist her.

“Yes, ma’am. I can send a member of housekeeping up after you’ve settled in to collect those items from you.” 

“Wonderful, thank you!” John made sure to hand over the requisite bills to cover their stay before Cass could even think of opening the checkbook she had been reunited with recently. Her personal line of accounting to the Cooper family fortune. John still didn’t completely understand the vastness of their empire and the generations of wealth that resided at the other end of those account numbers. He doesn’t think he would until he went to South Carolina and saw it for himself with his own two eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were having things mailed here,” John broached as they boarded the elevator and it rose slowly to their floor.

“Everything that I considered wearing to the wedding was still in South Carolina. And then I started thinking about all the events around the wedding and making sure I had back up outfits for each possible outing and it led to me asking my mother and sister if they wouldn’t mind packaging a couple trunks for me.” 

“Trunks? Then what I am holding in here?” He looked down at the bags in his hands. 

“Simpler items. Toiletries. Nightwear. My curlers. Things only you will ever see me in and therefore I can wear on more than one occasion.” She didn’t understand why all this was so confusing to him. He had grown up with sisters and a mother, surely this was all par for the course in their lives as well.

“Cass, my love, I don’t think you’re understanding the differences between the society of where you come from back home and the one that is attending this wedding.” John knew for a fact it was no frills. That the wedding only costed exactly what it needed to. That Gale and Marge were just happy to be able to celebrate together and in one piece with all the people they loved. No one would care if Cass wore the same dress twice or didn’t have more than one shade of blue dress at her disposal. It was a concept so foreign to him and where he had come from, he couldn’t even imagine anyone noticing or minding such a thing.

“It’s our first…event as Mr. and Mrs. John Egan. Our first trip together. I just want it to be perfect.” He dropped the bags in front of the door that was theirs and held her upper arms in his hands, cascading his thumb across the skin to soothe the anxiety bubbling out from her. 

“I’m here in a beautiful hotel with my beautiful wife celebrating my best friend marrying the love of his life. We survived hell to be here, Spook. It’s already heaven.” Cass smiled and pulled him in for a kiss by the collar of his shirt and his arms wrapped around the small of her back and held her close like it was second nature.

“You sure you don’t mind me going a little overboard?” Was she already failing as a wife? Was she already too much for him to handle just as her mother had warned? Was there a reason no other man had ever wanted to put up with her until one as insidious as Sidney Landry had come along?

“I don’t mind anything as long as you are happy.” And he stood by that as they opened the door and he was, in fact, greeted to two trunks that looked to be made of real leather and were the color of an expensive bottle of cognac. “Cass…”

“What? I’m certain there is more in here than just clothes, probably even some items for you.” It was also the first tangible piece of her life in South Carolina that was back with her after all she had been through. Of course she had exchanged letters with them as often as possible and had managed to sneak in a brief telephone call once she had arrived stateside, but this was a trunk that had been packed by her mother and sisters. It contained articles of clothing she had left behind all those years ago. Clothing Cassandra Ann Cooper had worn. It had never been touched by Captain Cass “Spook” Egan. For the first time, her worlds would be merging. There was something much deeper than just opening this trunk going through her mind.

“Maybe we save the unboxing of the trunks until after the cocktail hour tonight?” He was looking at his watch and trying to do the math on how long Cass might need to get ready, how much time he might need to get ready without overlapping in the powder room with her and then any leftover time he wanted for breaking in the hotel bed. It was the first night together since London that they were sharing a bed that was issued by the United States military. He wanted to take full advantage of the opportunity to take his time acquainting himself with his wife.

“No, I think there is a dress in here I’d like to wear tonight.” A beautiful tan number with buttons up the front with an impossibly cinched waist that was decorated with embroidered flowers there, along the sleeves and the collar. “See? What did I tell you?” Cass opened the trunk to find it was partially full of men’s clothing. Dress shirts, pants, blazers and ties. If her nose was to be trusted, they’d find bottles of cologne tucked in between the fabric as well.

“Baby, I don’t need all this,” he said gently as he thumbed the material and looked at the tags. A brand he had heard of from the mouths of generals and Milwaukee businessmen. Never something he would have thought he’d own himself.

“Look, my mother wrote that she curated each trunk to ensure we don’t clash at all for the entirety of the weekend and she requests we mail her photos of her success,” Cass said with a roll of her eyes as she read the letter that had been enclosed. She wasn’t deliberately ignoring the discomfort in John’s tone but he took it that way anyways. 

“I might just fiddle with the radio then while you sort this all out.” He was certain she didn’t even register the words he was saying, too busy taking each item out with meticulous care and placing them in piles corresponding to categories that existed in that wonderful mind of hers. John opened his mouth to check she had heard. To make sure she didn’t want to change her mind and roll around with him in the sheets instead. But he saw the way her eyes were misting at the other trinkets in the trunk; photos, letters from her siblings, a pair of earrings that looked old enough to be a family heirloom. He didn’t want to interrupt that. This avenue of healing and reconciliation he knew she wanted and knew she needed and knew she now had. He didn’t want to interrupt that. No matter how much he missed her.

----

John was right to have been concerned about trying to share a powder room with Cass while they were getting ready. There were elbows everywhere. His toothbrush had been knocked from his mouth when she had leaned as close to the mirror as possible to apply her mascara. Her curlers had been jostled out of their meticulously placed arrangement when he had tried to nibble her ear playfully before shaving the stubble across his cheeks. “John.” Her scolding had sliced through him like white hot coals. It was a tone he hadn’t heard her direct his way before. He wanted to call her on it. Ask why she sounded tired of him. Why she seemed bothered by him wanting to love on her after he had accepted her indifference towards him the entire day. 

For two people who had learned to view the jagged edges of their heart as the edges to a puzzle only the other knew how to match, for two people who had thought nothing would ever test them again after the Stalag, a hotel room in Wyoming was proving to be a puzzle they might not be able to solve.

----

It had been wonderful, bringing her near to tears, to see John standing next to Gale during the ceremony’s rehearsal. It reminded her of the bond that had kept the man she loved alive through a war. The bond that was stronger than brothers tied together through blood. It reminded her of their wedding, if one could even call it that, back in London. Just them and a priest and mother with her daughter as witness in the nave of a blown out church. That wedding had signified the last moment of her life where she had that version of John Egan. The last moment of her life where she had thought they would escape this war unscathed and all in one piece. The last moment of their lives where their love was untouchable.

“You may now kiss the bride!” Cass laughed and cheered with the rest of the small group that was participating in the rehearsal and wrapped Marge in the tightest hug when she came to greet her. 

“Gosh, you are going to be the most beautiful bride ever tomorrow if this is how you look tonight!” Cass exclaimed as she admired the blue and white floral dress that Marge was currently donning. They had only first crossed paths a couple of months ago when they’d first touched back down in the states but the girls had become thick as thieves faster than John or Gale had even predicted. Cass had divulged to John that she didn’t have many friends back home, no one truly wishing to associate with the girl who broke the mold. So to meet Marge and feel a connection, a kinship, so quickly had sparked such joy within her. Another person for Cass to wish to never let go of.

“Oh, stop. It’s just a warm up for everyone before the showstopper you’re throwing in South Carolina.” Cass shook her head. 

“You and Gale…they try to write your kind of love into books and they can never get it right because there are no words to describe it. At least, no one’s invented them yet.” She squeezed Marge’s hands tight and tried not to cry when she saw her friend’s eyes welling up with tears. “An incomparable love. I’m so honored you’ve allowed me here to celebrate with you both.” Marge wrapped her in a hug instantly and they could both feel the other smiling into the crook of their neck. There would always be something special about two women who would never tear each other down and only ever boost the other up. It was something powerful. Something fierce. There was a reason they had survived all that they had. 

“What’s going on over here? Happy tears I hope,” John asked as the two men walked up to their sides. “Otherwise, Spook, I hope you’re ready for me to sing and dance a smile right back onto your face.”

“It’s my wedding weekend, Bucky, you have to sing?” Gale groaned at the mere thought of his friend gaining access to a microphone. 

“If my wife needs a little serenading to wipe those tears away, then I am afraid you have no chance, Buck.” 

It turns out the threat was unnecessary because the presence of her husband alone always brought a smile to her face. They danced and danced and danced and only took breaks to run and hide in the bathroom for a few kisses that bordered on indecent. John completely forgot about the tension from the day. Completely forgot about the lack of belonging he had felt while they were together earlier. The feeling of being on a different page than his wife when they were speaking earlier. He sighed as they danced to the softer music that was now flowing from the record player. His puzzle piece. Back in his arms once again.

“Miss Cass?” The peaceful bubble around them was shattered briefly as a tiny hand was tugging on the hem of her skirt. 

“Hi, William,” she answered. The little boy was the ring bearer in tomorrow’s affair, his mother a bridesmaid to Marge.

“Can we dance?” Cass giggled at the earnest look on his face and looked to John. 

“I think you should ask Mr. Egan, William.” 

“Mr. Egan, can I dance with Miss Cass?”

“You get one song, William. Only one.” The smile from the little boy was missing a tooth as he nodded and took Cass�� hand with a blush to his cheeks. She couldn’t help but smile as he held her hands and watched his feet to make sure he didn’t step on her, his happiness at such a simple act bringing a feeling to her chest that she couldn’t quite place. 

“You’re a very good dancer,” she mused as he found the courage to look up into her eyes.

“Thank you, Miss Cass,” he whispered. She squeezed his hands once and bent down for a twirl as he lifted their joined hands. Cass couldn’t help the laugh that sprung from her. It was so simple, so freeing, so perfect, to be the light of the night for little William. “You are very pretty.”

“And you are very handsome.” They matched unbridled smiles and she kissed his chubby cheek as the song came to a close. “Thank you for the dance, William. Maybe we can do it again tomorrow night after the wedding?” He nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yes, please!” He turned as a woman was calling his name off to the side and waved his goodbye before running to be collected by his mother. 

“You’re going to be the most wonderful mother one day, Mrs. Egan.” Cass turned to see Gale’s mother looking at her with admiration in her eyes.

“Thank you, ma’am, I hope I can be.” Something stirred in her chest at the topic of conversation. She thought back to bloodied sheets and a racing heart. The feeling of being alone and empty, her other half behind enemy lines where she couldn’t reach him. Half of him was stored inside her before the universe chose to rip it from her so brutally. A secret she was still keeping from her husband.

“Have you and John discussed that next chapter of her life? Found a place to settle down now that things are mostly back to normal?” 

“No, we are visiting our families before we settle.” She prayed their families wouldn’t push too deeply on little Egans. Not until she had the courage to tell John about the one they had come close to having but lost. Not until she found the courage to remember that night herself and realize everything she had lost. All the ways in which she had failed him while he had been fighting for his life in a German POW camp.

“Well, with the way you and John care for each other and the way all the little ones have just been gravitating towards both of you, you’ll have nothing to worry about as you grow your family.” Cass forced a smile onto her face and offered her thanks, just as she had always been taught to by her mother, before excusing herself to use the restroom.

She made sure the door was locked before she allowed her breath to escape in the pant that it wanted to. It was ragged and hoarse as her fingers found purchase on the side of the sink and she squeezed until her knuckles were as white as the porcelain. Why now? Why after she had pushed these feelings and those memories as deep into her soul as they would go? Deeper than even a Nazi interrogation or the image of her husband being dragged to his death through the woods.

“Pull yourself together, Cass, come on. You’re better than this,” she whispered to herself after sparing a glance in the mirror. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Not here, not tonight. Don’t ruin this time of happiness for him when you haven’t been able to give that to him in so long. 

“Spook? You in here love?” His voice was accompanied by a gentle knock on the door. Almost timid. When had John Egan ever been unsure of himself when it came to his wife?

“I’ll be right out!” Her fingers twisted the sink on quickly and she cleared her throat of the apprehension and dread residing there before physically shaking her muscles loose. 

When the door opened, the frame was filled by the wide expanse of his shoulders. There was no way out for her even if she tried. And it took all her training in emotional regulation to not complete fray into pieces under his gaze. 

“You seemed to leave the party in quite a hurry,” he mused as he leaned against the wood. John was settling in. He had nowhere else to be other than right here. With the woman he loved, his wife, who was slowly slipping through his fingers.

“Dancing and having conversations doesn’t leave much time to touch up,” she teased back with a little laugh. He didn’t return her laugh and instead lifted his arm to show that he held her purse. Her purse that housed her compact and mirror. Her lipstick and mascara. Everything that she would have needed to actually touch up in the mirror. 

“I know we’ve haven’t…we haven’t been great at just talking and checking in recently-”

“That’s my fault. Getting back and traveling and planning and trying to keep it all together. I’ll be better once everything settles,” she promised as her hands pressed to his chest. Because there was that word again. Settle. Settling. Settled. Would she ever find a place where it could be used in the past tense? Would they ever find such a place?

“It’s not on just you or just me.” He reached for her hand and brought her ring to his lips. The thin gold band was barely noticeable unless someone was looking for it. It had been all they could find on such short notice. And they’d told each other he would put his grandmother’s ring on her finger when they made it to South Carolina. “I think we’ve both felt a little lost recently,” he whispered.

“How do we fix it?” Cass had always been good at identifying things that weren’t right. That didn’t fit with her. But she had never gotten the hang of bending to their will in order to make it so.

“I don’t know,” he swallowed around a lump in his throat, “but I know I love you more than anything. I know that will never change.” A tear tracked down her cheek in anticipation. She had to tell him. There would be no forward without this last secret coming to light. They couldn’t begin to work through the ways Germany had changed them if he didn’t know that she had never been the same since that night in the hospital. If he didn’t know that it was that night that led her to that camp in the first place. For if she had lost the piece of him he had left her, the piece of him he should have been able to trust she would keep safe, then she didn’t deserve to live on the other side of that chain link fence.

“There is something I have to tell you, John. Something that happened before I made it to Germany-”

“Not here, love,” John stroked his thumb over her cheek, effectively silencing the confession that was on the edge of her lips like a plea. “Let’s go somewhere we can have some privacy.” She squeezed his hand like a lifeline as he led her out of the bathroom and down the hallway, her heart seizing as the sights and sounds of the crowd began to take shape. Her muscles twitched and she wiped at her face and forced a smile as she readied herself for battle. Readied herself to face a room full of strangers that she couldn’t show such a weakness to. That was not what a married woman of society did. Emotions were meant to stay behind closed doors. 

They turned away from the music and went through a door. Her worry had been for nothing. As he always had a habit of doing, John had assuaged her fears without her needing to voice them. Had taken care of her as easily as breathing. Her worries over telling him would be for nothing too. Her worries over this growing distance between them…he would fix those too. Nothing could ever break them. “We could go back to our room, if that would make you more comfortable.” He kissed the center of her forehead and looked into her eyes like they held all the answers. Cass just hoped they held more than fear.

“Maybe it’s silly but I always have considered my bedroom, wherever it may be, to be the most sacred place. A place to protect. And now that I have you, the space where we talk before we fall asleep, the space where we wake up in each others arms and make love and plan how to achieve our dreams…it is even more important to me that we protect that. Even in a hotel where it is temporary.” Her smile could probably be described as meek as she looked at him like she was awaiting his approval. 

“Cass, everywhere you are is a sacred place to me. The ground you stand on is the only ground I care to protect.”

“Even this dirty stairwell?” she sniffed.

“Especially this dirty stairwell, my love.” It was hard to pretend every nerve ending between them wasn’t completely and utterly on fire. But he wasn’t going to push her. The admittance of a secret between them, something they normally didn’t keep, was enough to worry him to the edges of his sanity. He would always be patient with her. Her love would always be worth waiting for.

“After London, after we were separated, I woke up one night with blood on my sheets.” John froze. His eyes traced over her face as if he could read or see beneath her skin and into her mind. “Mary helped me to the field hospital and…and they told me I was having a miscarriage.” There it was. Out in the open. No longer a secret for her to keep. 

“London. In London we…” The rest of his thought was choked off as silver lined his eyes. Cass nodded.

“We made a baby. And on that night I lost it. I’m sorry. For not telling you sooner. For not knowing and not protecting them and ruining something I know we both want so deeply.” His eyes were no longer looking into hers. They were focused on the wall behind her head. If his shirt was between the whites other knuckles, she would have thought he was trying to mist away. 

“It’s not your fault. The stress of the forest that day and the travel…that couldn’t have helped.” John spared her a glance before he stepped out of her grasp and cleared his throat. “Did you want to say goodbye before we go?” She was stunned for a moment before she internalized the words he was saying. 

“That’s all you have to say?” No words of comfort? No angst or sadness over the loss of the unknown? No anger over her inability to protect something as precious as their child?

“I think we should get back to our room.” God, he was cold and evasive and emotionless and all the things Cass had described previous lovers as but never John Egan. Never her husband. The man who so thoroughly brought her to life. “It’s Gale and Marge’s weekend. I don’t want to distract from that.” Slapping her would have hurt less. His words packaged all her emotions into a little box and prevented them from escaping. From relieving the pressure on her heart that had been weighing her down. That she had started this conversation in order to release. Maybe she had been wrong to think John Egan was the kind of husband, the kind of man, who wouldn’t mind if his wife enjoyed dancing and laughing and letting her hair down while she experienced life. Maybe she never should have assumed the freedom he had said he loved about her all this time carried back to America. A ruthless mistake.

“My coat-”

“I’ll grab it. You stay here, so they don’t have to see you like this, and I’ll be right back.” Shame crawled right up her throat and squeezed until she thought it would be her undoing. 

“Why was I so stupid?” she whispered to herself. “I should have known better.” She should have known better than to think she would be able to be a wife on her own terms. To think she could be a partner and an equal and never have to change the elements that made up her core. To think she had found the person, her person, to do all that with. To shield her and protect her from the overwhelming judgement of those around her. 

It had been time for her to learn John was just a man. And he was the same as they all were.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 ONLY U hanni pham x reader

↳ warnings: yn from paparazzi, and many other works under my masterlist, idol au, lesserafim member reader, hanni is jelly, swearing (of course there is its firecracker!yn)

hanni wasn’t a jealous girlfriend.

if anything, yn was the more jealous one between the two. there had been multiple times where hanni had to show up at the lesserafim dorms because yn, being petty after seeing a ship edit, refused to answer her phone all day.

it was honestly pretty funny to watch yn get jealous. the hothead never really showed those type of emotions like that, so whenever hanni got the rare chance to see yn pouting, she savored it.

“you were jealouuusss,” hanni teased, looking at yn, who was sitting on the floor with her nintendo in hand, completely ignoring her. hanni had barged into the lesserafim dorms after yn ghosted her all day..

“fuck off,” yn muttered, eyes glued to her game, while hanni sat down beside her, resting her head on yn’s shoulder. “just wait until the day you get jealous.”

“i don’t get jealous,” hanni replied playfully, earning a nudge that knocked her head off yn’s shoulder.

it was all fun and games between them—at least for hanni. she knew yn didn’t have an insecure bone in her body, so there was nothing to worry about.

and neither did she.

or at least, that’s what she thought.

hanni wasn’t lying when she said she doesn’t get jealous, so the feeling she had in her chest at the moment was very foreign.

she sat beside hyein who had a big ipad in her hand showcasing a live on weverse with yn and eunchae.

she was originally in her room but then she heard a voice that sounded a lot like her girlfriend so she went to investigate only to see a giggling hyein who had her eyes stuck on the screen.

“yn was so nice to me today.” eunchae said to the live smiling brightly at yn who just rolled her eyes.

“shut up.” the girl mumbled squinting her eyes to see the chat since she didn’t have her glasses on her which made hanni shake her head in a scolding way at the screen, she was definitely gonna bother yn about that later.

“she got us matching bracelets!” eunchae exclaimed showing her wrist and picking up bus as well. a chrome hearts bracelet being around both of their wrists, yn was an ambassador for the brand.

yn snatched her wrist from muttering curses under her breath but anybody could tell that she was more flustered than angry which made hanni shift uncomfortably at the sight.

“has yn gotten you a matching jewelry from chrome hearts?” hyein always felt cool just saying yn without unnie ever since yn told her she didn’t have to.

“she has… plenty of times” hanni trailed off watching eunchae wrap her arms around yn who didn’t make any effort to push her off this time, “but not matching.”

“you guys are like kuromi and melody,” eunchae read the comment before turning to yn with a big smile, “are we?”

“no.”

“that means yes guys.” eunchae said interlocking her hand with yn who just ignored the girl keeping her eyes on the chat, but she didn’t argue.

a frown made its way to hanni’s face, her and yn’s relationship obviously wasn’t open to the public but their friendship sure one, and it was an ongoing joke between the two fandoms that yn and her were kuromi and melody.

she watched as this time yn didn’t pull her hand away from eunchae and let the younger girl keep their hands interlocked, a sick feeling making its way to her stomach.

she doesn’t know why this was bothering her so much, maybe it was fact that even when yn tried her hardest to act like she was annoyed by her, it was obvious that eunchae will always be someone who had a soft part for.

and hanni wasn’t gonna lie she wished she was the only person that yn had a soft spot for.

“I’m going to my room.” hanni announced not wanting to watch the live anymore, “I forgot to finish cleaning.”

“oh yeah, yn is sleeping over, you begged her.” hyein teased.

oh right…

“what the hell is your problem?”

hanni looked up from her phone to look at a clearly annoyed yn who pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose which made her look less intimidating, both girls sat beside each other on hanni’s bedroom floor.

“what?” hanni replied looking off to the side to avoid yn’s gaze.

“don’t what me,” yn said aggressively, “you’re the one who begged me to sleep over and you’re not even talking to me what the hell is your problem?”

“there isn’t a problem.”

there was definitely a problem, after watching the live hanni had spent the last hour watching yn and eunchae ship videos on youtube.

“so you think I’m stupid.” yn asked when deeply offended that hanni would even think that she would take that as an answer.

“maybe I will if you don’t believe me.” hanni said with an attitude, “I said there’s no problem, leave me alone.”

as soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it. before she could even process it, she was flat on her back against the fluffy carpet, yn straddling her, one hand firmly pinning hanni’s wrists above her head.

“let go of me!”

“I will after you tell me what’s wrong!”

”there’s nothing wrong you short stack of pancakes! let me go!”

“what the hell did you just call me?!”

“nothing! let me go!”

“I can do this all day, just communicate with me.”

“since when did you become a therapist, let me go!”

“I guess we’re staying like this.”

five minutes passed.

hanni stopped struggling breathing heavily looking up at yn who looked down at her unimpressed, “ready to talk.”

“you.”

“huh?” yn asked confused, her grip on hanni’s wrists loosening.

“I said you!” hanni exclaimed sitting up fast causing yn to fall off of her.

yn groaned as she sat up, “what are you talking about,”

“ask eunchae.” hanni grumbled.

“can you get to the point!” yn snapped, her patience was always slow, her pinning hanni down earlier was a great example of that.

“I’m jealous!” hanni snapped back, before covering her face with her hands, “ I’m jealous, alright?”

yn genuinely looked shocked at her girlfriends words, “you? jealous? why?”

“you and eunchae in your live today and you getting her matching bracelets and then letting her be all over you and then I went into this deep hole of watching ship edits of you guys,” hanni rambled.

“and YOU allowing her to call the both of you melody and kuromi when WE’RE melody and kuromi.” hanni exclaimed gesturing to their matching pjs hers and melody on it while yn had kuromi on hers.

there was silence for a couple of seconds before yn let out a small giggle.

“why are you laughing?” hanni asked in shock.

“because I never thought I’d see the day where you would be jealous and of eunchae? she’s like an annoying pet, but you’re my girlfriend.”

“this isn’t funny,” hanni grumbled shoving yn’s shoulder.

“it is!” yn replied, “because you have nothing to be jealous of its only you.”

“really?”

“yes,” yn rolled her eyes, “now please stop pouting it’s annoying.”

hanni wrapped her arms around yn who groaned, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” she teased, “and please never let eunchae call the both of you melody and kuromi that’s our thing.”

“ugh get off of me.”

[vivwritesfics]

Rock The Ship

Pirate Captain Norris has something very special in his possession. Until its stolen from him. He'd do anything to get it back, and I mean anything

Viv's AUgust Event

Warnings: smut, p in v, rough lando, public stuff, oral (male!receiving)

Captain Norris drained the tankard she placed in front if him. Oh, this was going to be so easy.

Rumoured swirled around the pirate captain. He had a girl at every port, more treasure than anybody could ever need. Stealing from him was going to be a peace of cake.

The barmaid placed another tankard of ale in front of him and he drained it in one go. She could see why the towns ladies of the night gathered around him. He was obviously attractive, and he could pay a pretty penny.

She placed another tankard down and he drained that one, too. All of his men were getting just as drunk as he was. They were no longer keeping an eye on him, instead groping at the eager women on their laps.

When she placed the final tankard of ale down, she stole the locket from his pocket, and disappeared out of the tavern.

She had it, she really had it! Shoving the locket into the pockets hidden between her skirts, she hurried through the empty streets, heading to the Inn.

But she didn't make it very far. A hand grabbed her, pushed her against the nearest wall. A gasp left her lips as her face was pressed into the cold stone of the nearest building. "Fuck," she groaned and tried to push away from the wall.

The hand held her in place. "You've got something that belongs to me," an unfamiliar voice said. His other hand touched her, felt over her skirts for the pocket.

She turned her head as much as she could and caught a glimpse of the man holding her against the wall. "Captain Norris," she smirked and pushed against him. "I think some of the ladies in the tavern will be more... appreciative of your company."

"Give me the locket."

"Make me."

He flipped her over, so that her back was pressed against the cold wall of the building. His eyes moved over her face, took in every feature. "You know, you're pretty," he said, hand coming up to squeeze her cheeks. "It's a shame you're so much trouble."

And then his hand moved down, fingers wrapping around her throat. He squeezed lightly, not enough to cut off her air. Just enough for her to enjoy it.

When he worked at unlacing her skirt, she realised his plan. She let him work, let her skirt fall to the floor, and then kicked it behind her. "Really, Captain Norris? That's your plan to get your locket back?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked a leg around his waist. "Shame you have no idea where it is," she whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek.

"I'll find it."

His mouth was against hers, pushing her back against the wall as his knee came between her legs. She shifted against it slightly, desperate for the friction his knee was providing. But she didn't moan, didn't make a noise as she stared into his eyes.

Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she pouted. "Are you going to take me back to your ship, Captain Norris? Or are you going to fuck me against this building?"

An involuntary groan left his lips. Lando tore off her shirt as his head fell forward, lips roaming over her neck. He kissed and sucked, leaving dark bruises that made her look like the town harlot.

But his hands were methodical as he felt over her bra, searching for any sign of the locket. "Where did you hide it?" He asked between kisses. "Do you even know what it is?"

Nodding, she pushed him away. With a little distance between them, her hands worked at unbuttoning his shirt, at opening his trousers and freeing his cock. Just keep him distracted, make him forget all about the locket.

She dropped to her knees, ignoring the burst of pain as she wrapped her lips around him and kissed his tip. It was such a pretty sight, a direct contrast to the grimey alley they were in.

"You know what's inside of my locket?" He asked, his voice shaking as she took all of him into her mouth. "Fuck," he released, his fingers pulling at his hair. "Shit, this is incredible."

Locket forgotten about, she thought as she sucked him off, worked her mouth around him. His hips moved slightly, but she held him still, pulling back to swirl her tongue around his tip. "Shit, I'm-"

She pulled her mouth away from him and wrapped her fingers around his base. Moving her hand up and down his length, she opened her mouth and worked him until he spilled onto her tongue.

Lando pulled her to her feet as she swallowed down all he had given her. "About that locket," he said and she rolled her eyes.

Her leg hooked back around her waist. "Just fuck me, Captain Norris," she said as her fingers danced cross his chest.

He mumbled something under his breath, something she didn't quite catch before he pushed into her.

His cock nestled between her spongy walls and he let out a breath, forehead against her shoulder. Fuck, he was big. She hadn't been prepared for the stretch that came with him. "Captain," she gasped and rolled her hips against him. "Fuck me, please."

He obeyed and pulled back. Her walls squeezed him, sucking him back in. He pistoned in and out of her, hips snapping as if they had a mind of their own.

She threw her head back, hitting the wall. "Shit," Lando grunted, reaching up to cradle the back of her head. If her head hurt, she was too lost in the feeling of his dick to notice.

"Holy fuck, I'm-"

It wasn't fair that he was this overstimulated. One hand left her head, came down to toy with her clit as he tried every trick in the book to stave off his own orgasm. But the way she was clenching around him, squeezing him as she got closer and closer, it was an impossible task.

When he came, he didn't stop. He kept moving, kept playing with her clit until she came around him. "Shit," he grunted as he pulled around. His hand moved from the back of her head, carefully left her to rest against the wall.

"Give me the locket," he said through gasps of breath as he readjusted his clothing.

She obeyed, fishing through her pocket for his locket. Holding her breath, she watched as he shoved it in his pocket and turned on his heel, leaving her there.

She was slow in getting dressed, silent as she fastened her skirt and did what she could with her torn shirt. She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the real locket, the one with the map to her father's treasure inside. The decoy one Captain Norris had was a perfect replica.

This was too easy.

[toxycodone]

i want swansea to finger me. i ❤️ fat men

ship. swansea x reader

content. fingering, reader is gender neutral but they do kinda ride his face

Jesus Christ.

Swansea’s had enough of this. Pony Express in general has always been on his ass, making him scoff and roll his eyes at every idiotic new rule or exception they make with hauls. But this one really takes the cake.

Having his fellow crewmate spread eagle on his work bench is fucking ridiculous.

Why do they keep hiring young people? He supposes it’s because they’re cheap, and this company’s the most penny pinching business in the game. But the costs surely outweigh the benefits.

They’re stupid, inexperienced. They can’t keep it their pants, and the effects of the haul start doing numbers on their psyche much quicker that the others. The tension between you two was palpable. Swansea could see the way you eye fucking him clear as day despite all his attempts to keep you focused on work at hand.

Fuck it. He huffs. He’ll take care of this himself. He’s not dying to some stupid mistake you make because you’re two busy imagining getting your guts rearranged to actually focus.

“Can’t believe this shit…”

Swansea hisses. His thick fingers trail down the expanse of your thigh, causing you to shudder.

Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh? He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so preoccupied with annoyance. But he can’t fully blame you. Swansea’s been there before. The hormones pumping through your body are begging you to fuck. Going without a good orgasm is torture to someone your age.

Good thing he’s here. A rugged, experienced individual like him. Yeah. Making a young thing like you fall apart on his fingers will be a piece of cake. You probably don’t know any better, anyways. Years of experience have polished him into quite the lover.

The thick callouses on his fingers force your thighs open, spreading your sex out in clear view. Swansea tsks, trying to fight back the heat that flares through his body at the sight.

“Not only do I gotta watch over you. Show you the ropes, keep you from killing yourself every ten damn seconds—but I gotta get you off too? The fuck does Pony Express think I am, some kind of prostitute?”

The least they could do is give him a raise. Fucking cheapskates. They probably think putting some young, hot piece of ass glued to his hip is a favor for him. Fuck it, they should’ve just been transparent and invested in a barracks bunny. It would save him the constant headache of having to train you.

“You better not take this for granted, kid. Once you’re spent, I’m expectin’ you to work twice as hard next shift.”

It’s a serious declaration. You better haul ass once he’s done this for you. Swansea’s large hand hovers right near where you want him. You feverishly nod in agreement. Whatever it takes to get those digits inside you as soon as possible.

“Good. Lay back and enjoy this, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it often.”

He would, though. If you asked again. Swansea’s hand moves down the expanse of your thigh, settling over your sex. He trails his thumb down your outer lips a few times, humming in acknowledgement at the wetness that coats your pubes and spreads from his movements.

“Already wet too? God, you’re easy. Or have you been waitin’ for a chance like this?”

His question is rhetorical, obviously, because the way his thumb starts to round your clit has you throwing your head back—blocking any answer that would’ve come out. Swansea knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s had his wife spread like this plenty of times, so it only takes a few movements and studying your facial expression before he finds what pressure and movements have you grinding back into his touch. He’s even sure to pay attention to the underside of clit, poking the sensitive head from its hood just enough to make you jump.

The attention makes you embarrassingly wet. Just from the older man stroking your sensitive bud, he’s already got your hips bucking and wanton moans leaving your lips. Is this how guys feel when they jerk off? Because the way Swansea’s got you coming apart with ease has you inching closer and closer with each passing second.

And when he stops, you whimper. It’s pathetic. But you’re too damn horny to give a shit at this point. Being stuck on the Tulpar has left you at the mercy of your own hand and imagination. Having someone else touch you for once is electrifying.

“Don’t bitch.” Swansea commands gruffly, adjusting himself in his work chair. You notice there's a gentle flush to his cheeks, but his eyes remain focused on your bottom half. His fingers stroke your slit again. The way he’s eyeing the slick that coats it is a little embarrassing—as if he’s assessing something. His middle finger pushes past your entrance, and at the sign of little resistance, the older man smirks. He adds his index finger in the midst of the third stroke, but keeps the pace slow.

Good Lord, his fingers are thick. Almost as thick as he is. They’re rough, thoroughly calloused from years of working with his hands. You can feel that texture on your inner walls as they split you open. Swansea’s thrusting them into you slowly still, but deliberate. Yes, he’s trying to get you closer and closer to that pending orgasm, but—

A choke moan escapes your lips when he finds it, that one spot inside you that makes your stomach drop.

“Right there, eh?” He’s smirking.

Those wide fingers curl around your g-spot, hitting it just right with each movement of his hand. He’s relentless, thumping against the area and speeding up his strokes. Your eyes roll back, vision blurred by stars as your orgasm comes tumbling towards you.

And you think that’s it, but the feeling of stubble against your thigh has you second guessing. Before you know it, Swansea’s lips seal around your slit. His other arm wraps around your thigh, fingers resting above your slit and pulling upwards to make the bud poke out at him for easier access. Your own hips involuntarily start to buck and grind against the older man’s face, smearing a mix of slick and saliva over his mouth and nose as you fuck yourself against it.

You cum quicker than you ever had in your life on his face. Never, ever have you been more thankful for Utility being so secluded from other parts of the ship. The sounds you make echo from the walls as you tense up and shudder. Vibrations from Swansea chuckling between your thighs make you whine as he continues to fuck you through your own release.

Your chest rises and falls with shaky pants as you fall limp onto the cold steel of the bench. With a hazy mind tingling body, you lie there, trying to recollect yourself after your superior just made you cum like that.

Swansea, ever so eager to stay on task, kicks back from the workbench, idly licking his fingers clean.

“Now you better pull yourself together, kid. We gotta job to do, y’hear?”

He tosses your clothes from the floor back at you. You take a few moments to gather yourself, before attempting to straighten things up. Swansea’s left the Utility room now—likely on the way to the bathroom to wash his own hands and start on his next task.

But on reflection, before you can tug your pants back on and get to work, you notice something off.

Your underwear’s gone.

(And somewhere, Swansea’s enjoying his new prize.)

[gabrielapazlima]

Why do i ship Cuddlejump⚡️❤️

(Hoppy hopscotch x Bobby bearhug)

And how i see their dynamic being like!

if you guys follow me for a while you guys may already noticed my very normal adimiration for the ship between hoppy hopscotch and bobby bearhug from the smiling critters...its not like they are 90% of my art gallery and that i cannot shut the fuck up about this ship hahaha right?

well,yea,i really,really,REALLY like them- its a ship that i pratically came up with first than anyone and somehow other ppl ended up found of them....but why? Why does Gabriela da paz lima is so normally obcessed with the ideia of a green tomboy rabbit n a red carebear being a couple?

At fist you may think "Uhh it is probally because of the classic tomboy tough girl x soft girly girl archetype right?" and yea,i can see why ppl think that is a very famous lesbian ship dynamic i respect ppl that are solid into them bc of it.... but its deeper to me than that...first i want to talk abt hoppy n bobby's solo characters first!

Hoppy Hopscotch⚡️🐰

ngl when i entered this fandom she was like,my favorite...i still love her tho

she is basically the energetic tomboy of the group acording w her official descreptions,she is also know as THE big motivation force of the critters,always pushing them out their comfort and have a very adventuous n positive spirit-

BUT she have very noticeble characters flaws as well,not only she is quite loud but she tends to be bossy n really impatient,being described as someone that can be "handful to deal with",and before the book release she is literaly the only critters with her character flaws listed-

i always liked how her personality is kinda complexish in comparassion to other critters,she is clealy have a good heart,very loyal n likes to help the others (which we can see in her cardboard line) but she can come up as rough n "overwhelming" in the way that she does it,she doesnt have the intention of hurt or being mean but she still comes as rude due her lack of patience n understanding( cof cof autism) of ppl's limits-

i really like her i feel like she is SO underrated:( you guys have to STOP make her a bully,she is NOT like that.)

Bobby bearhug🐻❤️

i love bobby so much that is not even funny,she is my kin baby-

she seems to be the typical shallow love girl at first sight but...theres so much more abt this carebear....

in her descreptions she is basically the mom friend of the group,she is here to keep her friends together not matter what,she is very phisically affecionate,she is emotional inteligent being very patient n understanding ( which is kinda of what hoppy lacks 👀) n her compassion don't limits itself to only hed friends but to things,places n basically any living thing-

she seems to be pretty much the perfect girl right?...well yea almost....and then theres her voice lines that give a very tonal shift to her character....

"i love you to the moon and back!im CRAZY about you...im lost without you...i been lost a long time....please take me with you this time....you'won't leave,will you?!"

at first it seems some kinda yandere shit but reading more and more deep in that,it sounds so desesperate n sad tbh...i seems like she is not thay confident by herself n DEEPLY fears the abandoment...which is...very ironical for HER character...

"But these lines are about the bbis destiny" yea i know but these lines are ALSO reflected in their cartoon personalities,like kickin being scared n hoppy being impatient...it very likely that is ALSO linked to her canon personality as well...which also makes me think in what amber said about her...

Damn thats....so relatable...i always try my best to be there for other ppl but im always so hard to myself when i know that i should not....thats a perfect irony to the "love character"...

she does not have that much of strong will for herself,she does not love herself in the same way that she loves everyone...she feels weak and defenceless n unwanted being at her own because she doesnt feel enough...

fuck,im crying...They will NEVER make me hate you,bobby bearhug.

🐰⚡️About Hoppy n Bobby's relationship🐻❤️

you see...they are both are very complex girls that love to support people on their own distinte ways,hoppy is the more of phisical support crittet while bobby is the emotional support critter- they deeply care about their friends and they want see them trying news things...i would say that they both valorize support over anything,thats their main atribute-

but they are also deeply flawed in very different ways,hoppy is impatient,bossy n can come off as rude bc of her lack of caring side....also very reckless as consequence....(kinda the reason of why she died) Bobby is very emotional dependent which causes her to panic over the ideia of being alone n doesnt like trying to push herself to do anything when she is feeling too alone( that also can be the reason of why she died)...

they flaws n qualities...weidly compliment each other well...hoppy needs more emotional inteligence n more understanding,not only of other ppl's limits but her own limits.... Bobby needs strengh will and motivation due her deep insecurities and self loath,she can be stronger than she is at her own,and hoppy can show that to her-

i feel like they dynamic is really strong and be summarized as "Besides all our differences,we value the same thing and in the end of the day,i really need you"

i just REALLY love comprimentary duos + opposite atract sorry- call me basic bitch.

💚More of their dynamic plus personal headcanons❤️

i like to think that hoppy would be sighly unconfortable with bobby's affection fowards her at first but she is slowly beggins to enjoy it and reciprocate it-

i also like to think that they would be the ones to come up with the group's activities together,hoppy tries to do batshit insane stuff but bobby tones them down to be safier-(they MIGHT go into lil fights abt it)

also hoppy really enjoys bobby's anger/tough moments because she is surprising REALLY strong but she always never show it-

hoppy also tends to be emotional but she nevr shows it util bobby find it by her own and she ended uo breaking her tough girl persona in front of her(which of course bobby accepts)

Bobby,hoppy n kickin were kinda of a trio and they basically the over loving girl,the cool "chill" guy and the hyperative dumbass...it fits them...

i have a MILLIONS of stuff to say about them but i would be here forever sooo i hope you guys have enjoyed my yapping about cuddlejump:)

BYE!!!

[agent-44mc]

a mission of liberation. 1995. part one

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Red Guardian

Warnings: none, so far.

Summary: Four years after meeting the Winter Soldier, Alexi Shostakov finds himself face to face with the man he once knew. SHIELD assigns him the mission to find and liberate him.

Word Count: 1k

notes: I don’t know where exactly this is going, I usually don’t do this, but I’m so excited about this ship I had to do something. I'm shrugging right now but in a way that i definitely know instead of what the shrug implies. tee hee. because it's so clear they should fuck so it will happen, trust. also this is unedited. i don't have time for that.

edit: why didn’t any of you tell me I was spelling Alexei wrong? I am betrayed and hurt. next chapter postponed.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Alexi had a good life, doing what he loved. A nice house, a dog, a job that he loved more than anything in the world, students that maybe hated him, even a potential girlfriend. Everyone knew him to be a kind spirit, maybe annoying at times with his loud personality, but after he walks through the doors of his beautiful house, feeds his dog, eats his homemade all american meal, and lays down to sleep in his goose feather bed, he thinks of someone he misses so dearly. 

Someone he knew as his best friend. 

And it didn’t feel good to think about him , like Alexi would die for it to be. His chest eroded anytime his existence was uttered by his subconscious while his mind was at rest. His “good life” kept the thoughts of him at bay, but every night, the guilt only made it worse. 

A smile shouldn’t haunt a man. Often, when the Red Guardian thought of the brutal brainwashing his lost friend had been subjected to, he couldn't help but think of his smile when he resisted it. 

The worst part, somehow, was that he didn’t even know his name. Neither of them did- but at least “The Coney Island Hero” wasn’t subjected to remembering that someone had given him that nickname. Alexi was left to suffer that. 

But there are many distractions from this- one being that he now leads a double life, working for SHIELD, doing hero-work, an umbrella term to describe anything from shutting down Nuclear Cold-War weapons and saving people from burning buildings- sometimes even cats. The bastardly things. 

Until one day, on a mission, he saw someone he’d been dreaming about. 

Alexi never went a day without seeing the shadow of The Coney Island Hero, which is why he almost brushed it aside, but then, he slapped him right in the face- which proved nothing. He was seeing The Winter Soldier now. The Shadow of The Coney Island Hero laid in him, even if he might not remember it. 

There’s one who does though, and Alexi knew that this time, he wasn’t going to lose him. He was going to liberate him, in a true American fashion.

 Brainwashing goes both ways. Alexi was going to brainwash the winter soldier back to the man he knew. The man that deserved to live a life free. 

And for reasons unknown to him, there was something deeper stirring under the surface of this fundamental belief. Something… personal. 

MISSION REPORT. 1995. 

“Get that crying baby out of here, I’m trying to talk to the woman,” Alexi ordered, slamming a fist on Peggy’s  desk with a scowl. “This is important, little girl!”

The baby mirrored his scowl. “I’m thwee,” she said, sticking out her tongue and holding her Dad’s hand a little tighter.

“You are a  very cute baby, I cannot stay angry for long,” Alexi gave in, waving as she walked out, grinning ear to ear at the sight. “Goodbye baby.”

Silence wavered between them as Alexi smiled silently, staking in the sights of the stuffy brown office that overlooked the streets of New York City, various noises fading into white noise as he let himself drift away to another place. It was subconscious at this point. 

Coney Island. He’d been there several times hoping to run into its hero. 

He stayed there until a British accent woke him back up. “Alexi, you came here very passionate about something, would you like to… elaborate further on what you saw?” 

“Uh, what?” Alexi stuttered, “oh, yes. The Winter Soldier. I saw him there, Agent Carter. I knew him, yes I knew him well. He liberated me.” 

“The Winter Soldier? He’s a myth.. An urban legend. What makes you think you know him?” Peggy inquirered, grabbing her reading glasses from the desk in front of her, holding her files out far enough to see. 

Alexi laughed. “You cannot fool me, Agent Carter. I know you know what you say isn’t true. You may be the supreme leader of SHIELD, but I was a supreme leader of the Red Room. I knew of the Winter Soldier. But then, I knew him. He didn’t know himself though.”

She looked at him through her glasses. “Alright, fine. He does exist. But you aren’t supposed to know that. It’s what we’d all like to keep a secret.” Peggy became somber, setting down her files. “What do you mean he didn’t know himself?” 

“I mean,” Alexi began. “We bonded. He got us French fries, we had jokes, and I tried to help him remember what his name was. The best he could do was Coney Island. That means he was the hero, no?” 

“The hero? I doubt he was ever a hero. I don’t know who-“

“But he doesn’t remember. He used to be someone! Someone who is no one wouldn’t remember Coney Island,” Alexi said in confidence, his eyes traveling to outside the window once more. “Even if he wasn’t, he deserves to live free.”

“You’re saying that the Winter Soldier was brainwashed?” Peggy asked, practically in disbelief as her soldiers squared, only slightly looking down at her feet when Alexi earnestly nodded his head. 

She got up and walked around the room, seemingly deep in thought about something, in such a manor that made him twist his fingers anxiously in wait for whatever she was going to say next. Perhaps “you’re crazy, we’re taking your job and your money.”  or worse, “there’s nothing we can do.”.

 Finally, she said, “Alexi, I’m giving  you a mission.”

Alexi shot up like lighting to his feet, turning around the face Peggy, who had her hands neatly clasped behind her back, a serious look of final determination on her aged face. 

“Yes ma’am?” Alexi asked, his heart practically breaking through his ribs. 

“Find and free The Winter Soldier.” 

<> part 2 out now

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 26 - Lavender 7

Okay. Another update! This chapter has been in the works for a bit. Working on it on and off when I can between other parts.

Shanks gets his turn with our lovely devil fruit user. This is filthy, and I introduce some kinks I've never written for.

Warnings! SMUT! SMUT! Shanks is kinda rough. A little mean? Spit kink. Face fucking. Alcohol. Cum eating

Masterlist

Two days after he calls the cottage, Shanks arrives at your island. He relaxes the moment his chocolate eyes land on the white beaches and the familiar mountains to the west. Benn rolls his eyes at his Captain but can't find it in himself to be too upset with the other man. The first mate enjoyed your island, too. Its peacefulness was unparalleled.

A smile curls his lips when Shanks spots a ship in the shape of a coffin moored at the end of the white sands. He knew that Mihawk would be here. The other man had been the one to answer his call the other day, after all. It wasn’t often that the three of them had the chance to spend time together. Mihawk, while aloof and sarcastic about it all, still had his duties as a warlord.

He had explained to Shanks that the position kept him in the know-how but still allowed him the freedom he desired. The redhead had shrugged and nodded, assuring Mihawk that it was a smart choice, but he wasn’t about to let something like the World Government get in his way if it became a problem. Dracule had blushed and spluttered that He did what he wanted, regardless of what those pigs said, and then stormed off to find you and soothe his irritation with the Emperor.

Shanks smirks at the memory, coming back to himself in time to help his crew unload before Benn waves him off, a fond look on the older man’s face. The redhead doesn’t need to be told twice and quickly disappears up the well-worn footpath, shoulders slumping, and an invisible weight lifting when your cottage comes into sight. A delighted laugh breaks from him when he catches sight of what greets him.

You and Mihawk are elbow-deep in the front garden, dirt staining both of their hands. Hank jumps up the moment he spots the redhead, running over to greet his second favorite human with a happy woof. Shanks pets the shaggy dog, greeting him with a little bit of baby talk and telling Hank how good of a boy he is. When Hank is happy, he flops back to the ground with a long sigh, and the Emperor continues to the garden.

Shanks is careful where he steps, not wanting to have both of his treasures on his ass if he were to trample the garden. You stand and greet him, smile wide and radiant, and Shanks doesn't waste any time in pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips welcome him, and the Emperor sags, invisible weight leaving his shoulders as you kiss him back.

Mihawk is next, facial hair scratching against the other man's for but a second before the bird pulls away far too soon. Shanks pouts a bit and gets flicked in the forehead for his troubles.

“Welcome home, trouble,” Mihawk murmurs, and despite his uninterested tone, Shanks can see the pleased look in the hawk’s golden eyes.

“How was your trip?” You chime in and press yourself into his side, and Shanks’ heart could explode from how adorable you look.

“Not bad. Good weather, and the sea must be in a pleasant mood,” He comments and looks down at you. He takes in your appearance, brows notching up when he realizes that you aren't as cold, and you have less on than usual. Actually, “Is that my shirt?”

“Yup. It's very breathable,” you pop the p, but your admission just makes him grin, greed shining in his eyes as he gently tugs you away to get a better look. His shirt swallows you, the front dripping low and giving Shanks an excellent view of your perky tits. You look different, but in a good way as if a light was shining from within. He glances at Mihawk, curious if the other man had noticed the change, and relaxes when the warlord comes to his side, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“She's been practicing like we said to. How did you explain it to me, Angel?” Mihawk says, and you blush at having both of their attention on you.

You tell Shanks about practicing your devil fruit and how you began to feel better once you started to use it more often. You explain how your body evened out, as you liked to put it, and Shanks could hear the excitement lining your voice. It makes him happy to know that you had practiced your powers and seemed to be better than ever.

“That’s great, sweetheart,” Shanks grins down at you, reaching out to slide his hand along your neck, gently cradling your jaw. His grin grows when you nuzzle into him, and he strokes his thumb over the line of your jaw, “How about you finish up here, and then you can show me what you can do?”

You nod, joy erupting inside of you at the suggestion, “It won’t take too long, we are almost done,” you assure him, and Shanks nods then carefully steps out of the garden to mosey inside the cottage.

It doesn't take long for Mihawk to join him in the house. He goes straight to the kitchen, washing his hands of any dirt before he puts the kettle on. Shanks steps into the kitchen, coming up behind the older man, reaching out to curl his hand around Dracule's hip. He molds himself along the warlord’s back, tucking his face in the crook of his neck.

“She really okay?” Shanks murmurs, and busies himself with pressing kisses to the back of Mihawk's neck while he waits.

Mihawk slowly relaxes against the other man, still getting used to being able to do this with the other man after so many years apart. His hand finds the one his hip, and he gently squeezes his wrist in reassurance, “She is. She's gotten stronger and would be formidable with real training.”

Shanks hums, disliking the thought of you having to fight. Dracule tightens his grip around his wrist, and Shanks knows that the warlord agrees with him. Mihawk sighs softly, head tilting back to rest against Shanks as he continues, “Mhm. I'd rather not, but if she wants to learn, then I won't hinder her progress.”

“You? A teacher?” Shanks teases gently and pinches his waist with a smirk, “Couldn't imagine it.”

Mihawk scoffs at the redhead, eyes rolling skyward, “Considering Roronoa is well on his way to being second to only, Me. I think that already proves that I can be one.”

Shanks snickers at the miffed pride that laces his treasures’ voice. Mihawk was always so fun to rile up. He gently turns the other man, he reaches up, tucking his knuckle under that perfect beard, and kisses the other man, a gentle push and pull that had Mihawk sighing and sliding one hand into Shanks’ hair.

He has missed the warlord. How had he allowed so much time to pass without finding the other man, Shanks didn't know, but now that he had him? Shanks would never let him go again.

Dracule rests his brow against the Emperor’s, breath mingling with the other man's. He licks his lips and catches the taste of sweet sake. He searches the other's dark eyes, and Shanks catches sight of the devious, smug look that swims in Mihawk's own.

“What's that look for, Baby?” Shanks murmurs curiously, brow ticking up at the other man.

Mihawk leans in, kissing the redhead again, and Shanks can feel the smirk that lingers on his lips. The redhead feels like he is missing something here, especially when you appear in the kitchen, a mischievous grin playing on your face. He watches you wash your hands and then takes the kettle from the stove when it begins to whistle, eyes following you even as he continues the kiss with his warlord.

And then Dracule is pulling away, and leaving Shanks standing there like a knot on a log as his treasures dither about, moving past one another with a close familiarity that the redhead silently envies. He does get the chance to pout about it, not when you step in front of him and grab his lonely hand, “Come sit, Shanks. Mihawk brought your favorite while he was out.”

Shanks allows himself to be pulled to the table, and he sits, eyebrows shooting up when you follow him, sitting on his lap and leaning into his chest. Mihawk comes around and places a steaming cup of sweet chamomile beside the shallow bowl full of sake. You help yourself to your tea and then sit back again, head pillowed against The redhead’s pecs.

“Alright you two. What is this about?” Shanks rumbles, and he reaches for his sake, sipping most of it down in one go, “I'm being left out here.”

Dracule shares a look with his angel, and you look so excited that he dips his head, and you say, softer with a voice so full of affection that it makes Mihawk blush.

“Mihawk and I had sex.”

Shanks looks at Dracule and now realizes why the man had looked so smug earlier. In fact. He looked even more so now, those beautiful ringed eyes glowing with it. A slow smile begins to form, sharp white teeth gleaming in the light of your kitchen. His sake dish is sat down with a click that seems to echo in the room, and Shanks curls his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to grind his already hardening dick into the soft cheeks of your ass.

He presses his face against yours, lips finding your cheek, and Mihawk speaks up, making the grin on the Emperor’s lips grow, “It's only fair you have your turn, Red.”

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

“Suck my cock, treasure, and I'll give you exactly what you want,” Shanks orders, voice rough and dangerous. He grabs your chin with two fingers, pulling your mouth open, “I'll even help you out, Sweetheart. Stick out your tongue for me.”

Mihawk watches from where he sits in his armchair in the corner of the room. He sips his red wine, the alcohol staining his lips. His golden gaze never once leaves his two angels, and despite his cock hard and aching in his pants, he does not touch it.

You are hesitant to do as ordered, cheeks darkening, but you see the expectation lingering in his dark gaze. You do as ordered, jaw clicking as you stick your tongue out for him. You blush furiously when Shanks leans closer and opens his mouth, pink muscle lolling out and dribbling an obscene amount of saliva onto your tongue, “Don't swallow that.”

You breathe heavily through your nose, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, and focus on not gagging.

“Take my dick outta my pants, Baby,” Shanks instructs quietly and licks his lips, enjoying the way that you are struggling with his orders. Your hands are shaking when they land on his pants, you feel your way up to the elastic and then pull them down, whining when his cock slips out and smacks you in the cheek.

“Shanks,” Mihawk warns quietly from his corner. He had given his word that he wouldn't step in, but that wouldn't stop him from speaking up if he deemed the redhead being too rough.

“She's fine, Hawkeye. She can do it,” Shanks dismisses easily when he glances down to see a new light of determination in your eyes, “Right, sweetheart?”

Shanks moves your head down in a nod before tipping your face towards his length. He groans when you grab the base, and then you are leading his cock past your lips, tongue sliding wonderfully alongside the bottom of his shaft. You take him down to about halfway before you start to choke. Shanks is thicker than Mihawk, making your jaw ache already.

“Relax your throat, Angel,” Mihawk speaks up from his spot and you flick your eyes over to see him uncrossing his legs, and it gives you a good view of the tent in the seat of his pants.

You work to do as he says, glassy eyes closing as you concentrate on your task. Shanks slips another inch down, and then another until the tip of his cock slips past the muscles at the back of your mouth and into your throat. A muffled whine leaves you at the painful stretch and the ache in your jaw gets worse, but your free hand grabs the fabric of his pants to keep him from pulling away.

“Fuck, Treasure,” Shanks snarls lowly, and his hand find the back of your head, And he tangles his long fingers in your hair, “Doing so good for us, listening to Mihawk so well.”

The praise feels good, and you feel yourself growing wet, slick clinging to your exposed folds. You swallow around Shanks, sucking in a sharp break when he humps forward, pressing your face to his pelvis. You work your tongue along the bottom, and Shanks pulses in your mouth when you hollow your cheeks and suck as best you can being so stuffed full.

Spit and precum leak and bubble past your lips, and soon your tears mingle with the mess when the Emperor grows impatient with your slow pace. You can do nothing but relax your jaw and breathe through your nose as Shanks fucks your face. He moans and groans above you, the sounds that leave him are lewd, and listening to him has your cunt clenching longingly around nothing.

Dracule watches, golden eyes heavy lidded, and swirling with lust and want. He wants to step in. Wants to stand behind Shanks and wrap his hand around the base of his cock, and help the redhead paint you with his seed. His hands ache, and he occupies himself by playing with the stem of his wine glass.

Your eyes flutter, jaw on fire, and time seems lost to you. Shanks uses you for his own gain, seeking his pleasure until that coil snaps low in his stomach. The sound he makes is more animalistic than human, and you aren't expecting him to pull out so suddenly and angle your face up. You gasp when you feel the first splash of hot cum on your cheek, and quickly close your eyes when more rushes toward you.

Shanks never looks away, dark eyes full of adoration for you. You look beautiful like this, all painted up and dripping with his cum. He milks himself, not wanting any of it to go to waste. He presses the head of his cock to your lips, and you automatically open your mouth for him, “Clean me up, Sweetheart.”

You flush as you do as ordered, cleaning his softening member until nothing but your spit remains. Shanks watches with a smirk, and then glances over at Mihawk, expression turning greedy once more, and he crooks a finger at the other man, “Come clean her up, Baby I know you want to.”

Dracule licks his lips, tempted by the offer. He sets his glass aside and then stands to lope closer, taking in the delightful sight of you covered in the other man's semen. Mihawk leans down to help you stand, and then he takes your face in both hands, holding you still.

“Keep your eyes closed, Angel,” Mihawk murmurs, and then he is leaning in. The wet drag of his tongue makes you jump, and you hear the warlord hum at the taste of cooling cum. Dracule takes his time, hot tongue lapping at the cloudy fluid, until nothing remains. The act is lewd and intimate, and it's enough to have you whining and clutching at Dracule's loose shirt. When he is finished, Mihawk seals his lips to yours, and you moan at the taste of the wine and Shanks that still clings to his tongue.

Shanks moves behind you, hand sliding between your legs and fingertips finding your clit. He massages the sensitive nub, smirking when he hears a muffled moan leave you. He slides past your clit, calloused digits gliding through your folds and slicking them with your juices. He finds your entrance, and slides in one soaked finger to the knuckle.

“Can't believe that you let Mihawk fuck you without me here, Snowflake,” Shanks croons, tone full of disappointment, “Couldn't let me be here to watch him take you for the first time.

He slips another finger in beside the first, stroking and rubbing your velvety walls. Your hands tighten, nails digging into the thick muscles of Dracule's abdomen. Those skilled, sinful digits find your sweet spot, and Shanks proceeds to bully that spot, making you cry out and bow forward. The pleasure is immense, almost too much. His thumb catches your clit, and that heat winds and winds until it breaks and you gush all over his hand.

It's an embarrassing amount, but this isn't the first time that Shanks had shoved his fingers inside you this evening and ripped an orgasam from your body. Your body is overworked, cunt sore, and you are so glad that Mihawk is there to hold you up. His hands support you, and he pets your hair as he leans in to kiss the top of your head.

“Look at that. At least your body knows how to tell me how sorry it is for not letting me watch,” Shanks croons, tone still cruel, but the way he removes his fingers is nothing but gentle.

The Emperor gathers you close, and Mihawk steps away when he is sure that you are able to stand without help. Your legs still shake, tremors make your thighs gently jiggle, and it only gets worse when Shanks carefully leads you over to the bed and then bends you over the side of it. He shucks his pants off and kicks them to the side before draping himself over your sweat slick body.

“I'm going to fuck you now, okay, Sweetheart,” Shanks coos in your ear and nudges your legs apart, spreading you nicely for him. He takes his cock in hand, rubbing it though your puffy folds before he begins to push forward. You whine at the intrusion, walls stretching more than they are used to as Shanks presses in.

“Slower, Shanks,” Mihawk rumbles from his seat. His eyes track the way the other man's cock slips inside your heat.

For once, the redhead listens to the other man and slows to a crawl, Shanks doesn't want to hurt you, and he is thicker than the average man.

“She's like a vice, Mihawk,” Shanks grunts above you and sinks another two inches, and you feel like you're being split open for half a second before the pain bleeds into pleasure. The Emperor groans when he bottoms out, brow pressed to the middle of your back as he rocks back and forth. He is already so fucking close, having edged himself twice when you'd been on your knees, so Shanks knows that he isn't going to last long, but he will feel you come on his cock.

A shout tears out of your throat when your Emperor suddenly ruts forward, and pleasure zings up your spine at his brutal pace. His hand finds your hair, tangling in the stands and forcing your face down into the mattress.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” Shanks snarls against your back, and his pace falters, going erratic. The tip of his cock drags against your sweet spot, and it sends you over once again, dragging Shanks with you.

Shanks swears as he comes, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder blade, hips stuttering as he empties his load. He stays there for a long time, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex before he rises and carefully pulls out. You hiss at the feeling, feeling sticky and fucked out. You don't have the energy to say much of anything as Shanks lifts you the rest of the way onto the bed.

“You okay, baby?” Shanks murmurs, and you muster up enough willpower to nod before your turn to snuggle into the closest pillow. He smiles and gently strokes your hair, pushing it away from your face and admiring your tired beauty.

Mihawk stands, stepping behind Shanks and grabbing the edge of his loose gray shirt and pulling it up and off the other man. He pushes his redhead to the bed and then swiftly undresses himself. Now that Shanks had gotten his fill, Dracule was feeling just a little left out, and he intended to rectify that right now.

You open your eyes enough to see Mihawk pressing Shanks down, long fingers wrapped around the other man's tan throat. Interested, you roll to your side, grabbing the sheets and pulling them around you, a soft smile playing on your lips as you enjoy the show that your boys put on for you. You are noticed eventually and are dragged between them, but no one would ever find you complaining.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat

[ashen-char]

so good to me 🔞

ship: river (all souls) x gender neutral reader

warnings: explicit smut so minors get out. canon-typical mentions of drug dealing and police.

summary: river's stress relief is making you feel good.

word count: 1600+

notes: service top river, as requested here <3

River leads a busy life. Being a young single mom in an expensive city is already hard enough, but ever since she got caught slinging she's had to deal with the police breathing down her neck and telling her what to do.

It's a blessing that she can find the time to meet with you and you treat it like it is. To thank her, whenever you see her not too worn out from juggling everything, you want to help her relieve her stress.

It's the afternoon. Jade's still off at school, so you have the apartment all to yourselves.

River had hit you up the second she got back from her own classes at Valley. The second you were at her door, no words were spoken. Just her hot, inviting lips. Her hands slipping down to your hips. River pulled you inside with her thumbs tucked in your belt loops, lost in the feel of her kisses.

Your knees buckle underneath you when you realise you've been pushed all the way to bed. Her hands feel like they're everywhere. On your shoulders, pushing you down until your back hits the mattress, then at the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and off in a smooth motion.

"Woah," you say, a little breathless, "well, hello to you too."

It's cold. But you don't think your instant goosebumps have anything to do with the lack of heating: instead ignited from River's searing hot hands as she gropes and explores your chest. River's hands, her body against yours, make Hell seem cold.

And the way she looks at you? You can tell that the only thing keeping her sane is you when she's this insistent, when she looks at you like you're her salvation. "Mm," River responds, your bottom lip tucked between her teeth, "hey, baby." 

Pulling back, she takes the time to appreciate the sight of your shirtless frame.

River can't help but smile as she sees you. Her gaze lingers, appreciating your physique, and she lets out a low whistle.

"Shut up," you laugh. Your arms go up to cover yourself, but River doesn't let you.

"Ah ah ah," she says, taking hold of your wrist. You can feel her breath as she leans down to lightly kiss along your jaw, and down your throat.

They're slow, teasing kisses. Like she thinks every inch of you needs its own moment, needs to be praised and worshipped. You wonder if you'll go crazy before River actually touches you in any meaningful way. The kisses are way too soft.

When River's hot mouth is at your collarbone, you let her move your arms away. "That's it, baby," she praises. "Let me see you."

She knows the power she holds over you. She's a little devil like that, enjoying the way she can make your body beg for her with the barest of touches. River could get you to do whatever she wants.

"Fuck." Your jaw clenches. You get that this is something she likes to do - to take her time enjoying you to her heart's content. But you can only take so much anticipation. "Whatever. Fine, just touch me."

Her hands roam slowly over your chest, appreciating the body beneath her fingertips. You're all hers. She'll remind you of that. "Mm, aren't you forgetting something?" she whispers, a cheeky grin appearing on her face, her brown eyes dancing with mischief. "A please?"

You glare up at her, and River laughs. "I was joking, it's alright. I won't make you beg."

Her kisses drift down even lower. You don't usually notice River's septum piercing when you kiss, but with how she's teasing you tonight you feel everything more intensely. And the metal dragging along your skin with her is no exception, like a slight scratch. A breathy moan escapes your lips as she sucks at your pulse point.

You tilt your head up, allowing better access to whatever River wants. A lick at that sensitive spot behind your ear and you are putty in her hands. You want her grip tight on your neck. You want her to bite down. You want her to do fucking anything but this stupid slow shit.

"River-"

"Shhh, baby," she whispers. You can't tell if it's the way she's saying it, soft and sweet but still so so teasing, or if it's the sensation of her breath against where she just licked, but you just want to melt into her hands. "Let me make you feel good," she tells you.

With that, her hands finally do touch you. River's thumb rubs a quick circle around your nipple, which makes your body jump. The heat between your legs is screaming at you. Aching for some relief. As if she hears your silent plead, her other hand travels down, until she's cupping you.

As much as she's enjoying making things drag, enjoys how cute you are when you're frustrated and your little noises of discontent, that's not what she's here for. What River loves most of all is making her baby melt in pleasure. Her tongue ventures out, exploring the hollow behind your ear, her breath hot and moist on your skin. When that makes you yelp, River squeezes down against your centre. 

Finally, some fucking relief. The friction of her palm is almost, almost what you need and you can't help but to grind up into her touch. The sounds you're making must be pitiful but you don't fucking care. Not when she's rubbing at you like she wants to make you cum through your jeans.

River's grin widens as she hears it, pleased to hear the satisfaction pouring out of you. That little whimper you let out sends chills down her spine. You can feel it when she grazes at your nipple again, her movements shakier. Both of you want to speed things along now. You hear a low moan coming from her as you grind against her hand.

"That's it, baby," she says, "you sound so good." From her voice, you know that River is absolutely loving this. Loving the power she possesses over you.

You feel the need to do something, anything, as River has her way with your body. And when her fingers trail down your bare skin until she's at the waistband of your jeans, you realise you want everything off. Every barrier between you two should just stop existing.

You reach out and grasp at her baggy shirt. "Off," you gasp out, "get this off."

She says something under her breath, probably another tease about you making requests without a 'please', but you don't catch it. Not when River's more than happy to oblige you.

"So impatient," she murmurs as her fingers slip beneath the hem of her shirt, pulling it off to leave her in just her sports bra.

Your heart is pounding at every new inch of perfect pale skin that's exposed to you. How can she be so sexy without even trying? "I'm not. You're just a tease," you tell her.

The shirt falls on the ground behind her. But she gives you no time to enjoy the view. River shoves you back down, your head hitting the pillow. She grins down at you as she moves to straddle your waist. Her lips find your neck again, and her fingers continue their journey down, finally unbuttoning your jeans.

"Would a tease do this, baby?" River asks, as her hand slips into your underwear.

You gasp. You grip at the sheets until your knuckles go white, eyes closing. The sensation of River's hand moving between your legs is nothing short of delicious. 

"Mm, yeah, you like that don't you?" River grins, watching your reactions. She continues to pump at a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. Just right.

You can't find the words, too busy trying to cling onto your sanity as River expertly plays with you. 

"Tell me you like it," River urges, voice low and raspy.

"I love it!" You squirm up, moaning as her hand deals with your heat.

She can't help but smile at the reactions she gets from you, making her feel powerful for once in her life. The young mom can't control her hectic life, her finances or the danger around them, but she can control this. She can control your body, your pleasure, you're River's perfect little toy. She tells you this, cooing, whispering praises into your ear as she lets you fuck yourself with her hand. "You're so perfect, baby. You're all mine," River breathes out. "I want you to feel so good."

A broken "y-yeah," escapes your lips. Her mouth returns to your throat.

Her dark eyes watch you for each reaction, making mental notes of what you like the most. What makes your hips buck up. What makes you whimper. There's nothing like hearing your breath hitch and your groans, getting loud and urgent, when she touches your nipples.

You don't know how long it takes. River speeds up her pace, her fingers rubbing at the most sensitive part of you, and you feel yourself break. Her other hand rubs your back, telling you how good you are. "That's it, baby." A kiss to your pulse point. "It's OK. You're OK." She guides you through your high, her hand rubbing slower and slower.

You're breathing so heavy once your orgasm is finished wracking your body. "Love you," you pant out, because she deserves to hear it.

River cuddles into your side, smiling softly. "I love you too." A gentle kiss gets pressed to your lips. "And I love touching you. Obviously."

Giving you pleasure makes her feel wanted, and she's never been that before. With you in the picture, there's something more to life than just barely scraping by, something more than the rough streets.

[beesbiteandwillowrites]

DP x DC Prompt: "City of Ghosts"

Gotham is a part of the Infinite Realms.

It's a bit of a mythical place really. Ghosts don't go there, and Gotham ghosts don't venture out of their city haunt. Everyone in the Infinite Realms knows that Gotham is a lawless place. They avoid it like the plague. Skulker doesn't hunt there. Walker ignores all the violations of the rules and laws of the Infinite Realms that happen within city limits. Pariah Dark didn't touch that area with a ten-foot pole, in spite of being king of everything within the Infinite Realms. Even Dan hadn't bothered with that place in his own timeline, its inhabitants too twisted and feral for him to fight (he had scars from when he fought some fucked up guy with a shadowcore that somehow powered bright flaming swords bc what's the logic in that?). Gotham is its own brand of crazy not even the bravest and most power-hungry ghosts touched.

Unfortunately, nobody thought to tell Danny this.

Now, you can go so many ways with this. Danny could catch the attention by everyone's favourite serial adopter who sees a baby ghost in need of training and make him a ghost-bat. You can have shipping fics between Danny and any of the bats. You can have Gotham's insane rogues set their sights on the new halfa and enter Amity Park through the portal.

I'm a ho for Jason Todd and I love to ship him with just about anyone, so what if when Danny enters Gotham, he meets a ghost boy by the name Robin, who talks about reading books and protecting people and who saves Danny from a mob of feral city ghosts and is just generally really cute and oh shit, Danny might have a crush.

And then Robin's existence is wiped away by a crazy clown who tortures the boy and shatters his core into so many shards he fades away, and Danny believes the love of his life death is truly gone

Jason's resurrection would be fascinating to explore bc what kind of bullshit could damage a core so beyond repair and what cosmic fuckery actually pulls all those shards back together? (my shipping heart says "Danny accepting the crown caused a power surge and brought Jason back" for drama)

Or maybe Red Hood already exists, and you can pair him with Dan, do an enemies-to-lovers kinda fic, where they were at each other's throat in the initial timeline, but end up falling for each other in the second timeline

Or explore the first timeline and write a tragedy in which Jason has to watch how his partner gets more twisted and warped as time goes on and ends up becoming his enemy

Just Gotham as a ghost town. Literally.

(I may be hyperfixating on this a little at the moment)

[violettduchess]

Perhaps I could request Silvio x Leyla + Colours of Sunrise? >:)

A/N: Here you go @lorei-writes! Thank you for your support of Leyla from the beginning!

This fic is a continuation of the Leyla x Silvio part of these OC Kiss Headcanons (I'll repost their part below)

An entry for my and Lorei's Sunshine and Starlight CC

WC: 2.6k

From the Headcanons:

The overcast sky matches the expression on Silvio’s face. He watches as the last of the crates are loaded onto Siren’s Call. Leyla’s ship. The one getting ready to leave the royal Benitoite port. “That’s the last one, Captain.” First Mate Kai clamps a large, reassuring hand on Leyla’s shoulder and she nods at him. He inclines his head towards Silvio, a begrudging sign of respect, before heading onto the gangway. The silence between Silvio and Leyla hangs as heavy as the gray clouds above. “I don’t get why you gotta go. You know I could–” Leyla cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head, her gold hoop earrings swaying with the movement. “I won’t be a kept woman. You know that.” She sighs heavily, brushing aside several wayward strands of hair that the wind has plucked free of her dark braid. Silvio’s fingers ache at the sight. He curls his hands into fists, fighting the burning need to touch her. “Besides,” she continues, “It’s not that long. Just a few months.” Her words are hollow with forced optimism. Silvio looks down at his boots, jaw clenched. “Fuck.” His voice is ragged. “Captain!” Kai’s deep baritone calls from the ship. “The tide!” “I know!” she barks back, her own voice scraped raw with emotion. Trying to ignore the vice squeezing her heart, she turns to Silvio. He lifts his head and in his eyes she sees all the words his mouth can’t form, all the storm clouds churning in his heart. At the same time they stumble towards each other. The kiss is messy and desperate, tinted with anger and sharp with longing. It’s Leyla who pulls away first, afraid she won’t be able to take a step towards her ship if she holds him a moment longer. “Good-bye.” He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He only watches as distance shrinks her figure, taking her away from him, with her kiss still lingering on his aching lips.

Colors of Sunrise: Red

Silvio leans on the ship’s railing, closing his eyes, the ones that match the color of the sea he is sailing swiftly across. The wind whips at his pale hair, makes a musical tinkling of his gold jewelry. It’s too dangerous, they had said. The storms around Ammolite are swallowing ships left and right. But Silvio had scoured Benitoite from end to end until he found a captain whose fear could be bought by enough gold coins. And so despite the danger, he is making his way ever closer. Even now as the sun begins its slow descent, it feels as if the ship is flying across the ocean…and still it doesn’t feel fast enough.

He is not a patient man. His ringed fingers grip the wood hard enough that his knuckles blanche. His muscles are tensed, energy coiled within him like a champagne cork that may pop at any moment. He breathes in deeply, the smell of salt water powerful and comforting. Every second that passes is another step closer, every gust of wind into the billowing white sails above presses the ship forward on its journey. Closer to seeing her again. 

She may not appreciate his rash decision. Their last real conversation, before the heart wrenching good-bye at the royal docks, was held under a sky streaked with the first rays of dawn, on the balcony off his royal bedroom. Gripping the balcony much like he is now, she had told him that she would write him when she was finished with her business on the tropical island of Ammolite. When he had demanded to know how long it would take, she had dropped her gaze, a pained expression on her face. “I don’t know. Months, probably.”

Not wanting to hear another word, he had pulled her into his arms and silenced her with his mouth, dragged her willingly back to his bed and kept her there, desperate to fill every last possible minute with the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin.

And then she had gone, leaving him pacing the palace like a wild dog, frenzied with longing, mad with missing her. Weeks went by without word, and those weeks grew into agonizing months until one day, the answer hit him, plain as day.

She may be tied to a single place for a while. But he wasn’t.

He would make sure he wasn’t.

And that revelation has lead him to this moment in time, right now, to the railing of a ship known for its reckless crew, greedy captain and record-breaking speed, rushing across the turbulent sea to find her.

Leyla tries hard to concentrate as the guild leader drones on, his monotone voice lulling her brain into stagnancy and she finds herself desperately wanting to close her eyes and sleep. She shifts in the wooden chair, wondering how the others are still awake. Kai’s eyes are heavy-lidded and one of the shipwrights has literally slumped down in his chair, chin touching his chest. If only her ship hadn’t been so damaged. Siren’s Call had gotten them to Ammolite but just barely. A wild storm had raked its claws across her hull, sunk its teeth into her sails and damaged her so badly that weeks of repair were needed. And that particular storm had only heralded the beginning of the stormy season. Leyla had hoped to leave the tropical island before the season really began in earnest but it seems fate had had different plans. 

“And unless there is any other further business–” Thank fuck, he’s finally done.

Leyla leaps up from her seat. “Nope, that all sounded great. The guild is doing a fantastic job. Nothing more to discuss today. See ya.” She yanks Kai by his massive arm, jerking him awake and pulls him out of the meeting room, through the double doors of the government building and into the fading light of evening.

“My God, he loves the sound of his own voice.”

The main street market is slowly winding down. Vendors are closing their stands, bundling up their wares. In the distance, the local pub’s doors swing open as it welcomes its first visitors. 

Her First Mate glances at the sky as they sidestep a man carrying a large basket of oranges on his head.

“He blathers on but his guild is doing a good job with the ship.”

They pause as they reach the beginning of the docks. Siren’s Call has been repaired enough to be in the water. The shipwrights have left for the day but Leyla’s keen eye spots where they have finished their work on the hull and what is still left to do on the mizzen mast.

Kai nods his bald head towards The Gray Gull which sits cozily at the edge of the docks. “You comin’ for a pint?” 

Leyla sighs. “Not tonight.” Her voice sounds soft and blue, a sad wind trailing its fingers listlessly across the water. Kai places a large hand on her shoulder, comfortingly.

“We’ll be able to leave soon, Captain.” 

“I know. I just….” She shifts her weight from one booted foot to the other. “I just really want to get back to–” She stops herself, clearing her throat. “Back to business as usual.”

Kai smiles knowingly, dark brown eyes amused. “Is that what we’re callin’ him now? Business?”

She shoots him a Look, pale blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Oh shut it, you big sea slug.”

His baritone laugh barrels out of him like the deep clang of a gong. “Aye Aye, Captain.” He pats her shoulder once more before taking his leave.

His absence makes her aware of the ache in her chest, the one that she has been fighting ever since she left Benitoite all those months ago. It's a dim throbbing that hammers its way into her dreams, filling them with Silvio. Nightly, she sees his blue eyes and silvery hair. His slow, arrogant grin and sharp cheekbones that flush shockingly fast. His long fingers, bedecked in gold, and surprisingly coarse palms. 

People rush past her as another ship in the distance comes into view, heading for the harbor. It's likely looking for permission to dock. The commotion of readying a spot for the ship is enough to pull her out of her gloom.

Again she glances at her ship at the western end of the dock. She’ll sleep in her cabin tonight. Maybe being surrounded by the things that comfort her will help keep the sharp sting of her longing at bay.

Colors of Sunrise: Orange 

Silvio leaves the captain gleefully clutching his bags of coin, more coin than he has ever seen at once, his long legs taking him down the gangplank and onto the docks. Her ship is there, at the far end. Just the sight of it sends his heart thundering. He notices several shipwrights, wrapping their tools up carefully, tying down their workstations for the night. So her ship was damaged…..

He frowns, noticing the still damaged mizzen mast. Is she ok?

Turning, he hurries as fast as he can without running, towards the small town center. The markets are slowly closing down as sunset’s prologue begins, a darkening sky, a cooler wind. He ducks past a man carrying an enormous empty basket on his head and catches the scent of oranges before heading straight for the local boarding house.

Inside, he finds a woman with dark curls wrapped up in a colorful orange turban behind the desk. She welcomes him with a warm smile, her observant eyes immediately noticing his rich clothing, his fine jewelry. 

"Welcome, traveler. May I offer you-"

“I ain’t lookin’ for a room. I’m lookin’ for a woman.”

The proprietor raises her thick browns. “This isn’t that kind of establishment, Sir. You need to head to the other end of town for that kind of pleasure.”

“No…no that’s not…” Leyla is so close, he can feel it in his blood, the way it’s rushing through him like untamed rapids. He just has to find her. “The captain. Of the ship at the end of the docks. A woman with black hair and eyes kinda like the sky."

She shakes her head. “No, Sir. She hasn’t been in tonight. You could try The Gray Gull. I believe she often takes a drink with her crew in the evening.”

The woman’s face breaks into a warm smile, fondness glowing in her round cheeks. “Captain Quinn?”

Just her name has him leaning forward, gripping the edge of the counter, nodding eagerly as his gold earring sways in the warm lamplight.  “Where can I find her? She here?”

Silvio reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out another small bag of coins, dropping it with a thud onto the counter.

“Thanks for the help.”

He leaves the boarding house and its wide-eyed proprietor behind, determination pushing him along the dusty street, towards the tavern.

The sun is stretching its artistic muscles, streaking the darkening sky with bold reds and glowing oranges. It paints the underside of the clouds pink and outlines them in shimmering apricot. The cool wind tugs on the strands of her black hair playfully, as if enjoying the fact that she has released it from the prison of her tight braid. The armor of her daily clothing, the stiff jacket and leather pants, has been replaced by the soft, white linen of her nightgown, the luxurious midnight blue velvet and silver of her robe. Absently she runs her fingers over the sleeve, remembering when Silvio presented it to her, nearly throwing it at her in his hurry to be done with the embarrassingly sweet gesture of giving her a present, for no reason other than she once commented how cold it could get in her cabin at night. The deep blue reminds her of the Benitoite sea in the earliest hours of the morning, mysterious and beautiful, dark and inviting. 

She misses him. Her fingers curl into the velvet and her eyes close. She misses him so much and it hurts. Now, alone on her wounded ship, underneath a sky exploding with color, she allows the feeling to wash over her, giving the beast full reign of her thoughts. It tramples across the tender plains of her heart, its bellowing echoing in her mind. Not a day has gone by that she hasn’t thought of him, hasn’t tried to remember the feel of his kiss, the smell of his cologne, the strength of his arms as they pull her close. She even misses his snark, the flustered fluttering of his eyelashes, the hollow sound of his bark that contains no bite, not for her.

A hard lump forms in the back of her throat, a burning tangle of her yearning and regret and desire. Almost angrily she knuckles at her eyes, wiping away tears that have yet to fall.

All this fuss….just because she hasn’t seen him in a few months. 

Inside her chains rattle as she readies herself to capture the beast of her longing and conquer it, to hide it away in the shadows of her heart as she usually does. There’s no use in allowing it to continue its rampage. 

What good are tears? They won’t bring Silvio here.

Sighing, she squares her shoulders and turns from the ship’s railing.

Colors of Sunrise: Yellow

The tavern doors are flung open with a bang. Silvio barges in, scanning the room, his heart clamoring with impatience. It’s smokey inside and lit only by greasy orange oil lamps. Could she be–

“She’s on the ship.” A deep voice from behind has the prince jerking away and spinning around like a marionette in the hands of a startled puppeteer. Immediately he recognizes Kai. The large man raises a heavy tankard of ale to his lips and jerks his head towards the doors. His gold hoop earring glints in the warm light. “Go on then, yer Highness. Get outta here.”

The fact that the First Mate isn’t the least surprised to see him doesn’t even register until much later.

Silvio nods once and hurries out of the tavern, practically running as he heads towards the docks. The heels of his boots thud with every frenzied step across the wooden boards, battling with the sound of the waves as he rushes towards Siren’s Call. 

He’s close enough now to see a figure standing at her railings and his breath catches in his lungs.

She turns, and in that moment, the thought of watching her turn away, of watching her leave him, yet again, sends panic through his veins, like lightning cleaving his heart in half with its merciless heat.

Her name is torn from his throat, lobbed in despair towards her even as his legs bring him closer. 

“LEYLA!”

She freezes at the sound of her name as it cuts through the air, striking her heart like a flaming arrow. 

Could it be….

“Leyla!!”

Again her name.

And she knows that voice.

Spinning back around she sees him rushing towards the ship, his blue cloak with its Dalmatian trim fluttering behind him like a wild phantom. 

In an instant she is flying towards the gangplank, bare feet barely touching the ground. Down the incline she soars, her heart hammering a riotous concert in her chest. 

She’s on the dock now, tearing towards him as he bolts towards her, two hurricanes in motion. 

And then they crash into one another, a tangle of arms and lips and grasping hands. 

He’s here, her heart sings, he’s really here. 

She pushes her fingers into the pale radiance of his hair, curls them into its soft strands. He holds her in arms, crushes her against him like a vice as he kisses her over and over and over and over, a drowning man finally given air. She meets him, stroke for stroke, gasping as she drinks her fill, as the cool taste of his mouth soothes the scorched earth of his absence. 

Above them the sky is golden, the sun’s final masterpiece before it sinks to its rest.

Colors of Sunrise: Pink

“The sun’s coming up.”

Her voice is rough, hoarse with the evidence of last night’s pleasures. Behind her, Silvio buries his face into the dark waves of her hair, tightening his embrace. He never wants to get up, never wants to leave the comfort of her bed, the cocoon of her ship’s cabin. He never ever wants to let her go. His only vocal reply is a grunt which somehow makes Leyla laugh.

She shifts, maneuvering herself around within the circle of his arms. His eyes are closed but she knows he is awake. Leaning forward, she presses a chaste kiss to his chin, a cool raindrop of a kiss in comparison to last night’s storm.

“C’mon, sea pup, let’s go look at the sunrise. I feel like stretching my legs a bit.”

The Prince of Benitoite scowls as she wiggles away from his embrace. He jerks his head to move his hair out of his face as he pushes himself up in the bed. He leans back on his palms, watching with a mix of admiration, lust and regret as she finds her discarded nightgown on the carpet and pulls it over her bare body.

“I thought I stretched ‘em enough last night.”

She laughs, loudly and brightly, no false modesty here. Tying her velvet robe tightly around her middle, she leans down, catching his chin in her fingers and kisses him hard, murmuring, “That you did and maybe, if you come along without anymore growling, you’ll get a chance to do it again.”

He needs no more encouragement.

Now, they stand together at the ship’s railing, arms wrapped around each other’s waists as they watch the sun’s yellow rays caress the morning sky into blushing prettily in soft pinks and corals. 

Leyla sighs, leaning into Silvio’s body, reveling in the feel of him.

“I know I said it before but I still can’t believe you’re here." She shakes her head, watching the undulation of the water. "Fucking hell, Silvio, it was such a damn risky thing to do.”

His hand at her waist clenches.

“I knew I’d make it. Besides, missing you was takin’ up all the room in my head. I had to come before it drove me nuts.”

She grins slowly. “I guess I missed you too.”

His eyes flash as he looks down at her. “Whaddya mean...you guess?!”

She shrugs nonchalantly, enjoying the way indignation and annoyance are waging war with his desire to keep holding her. “I mean...you know.... if I think about it….you may have crossed my mind. Like, once or twice.”

"Why you......" Without warning, he scoops her up into his arms. “You’re in so much trouble, sea witch.” He marches back in the direction of her cabin, her delighted laughter ringing through the air, a compliment to the bright colors of a tropical sunrise.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

@mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton

@ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea

@chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja

@starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss @keithsandwich @ikeprinces-stuff @bestbryn

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

<<Previous Chapter <<

**Masterlist**

>>Next Chapter>>

Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: With the storm well under way, Izzy resigns himself to a tumultuous night of self-loathing. Little does he know that something- or someone- will interrupt his not-so-peaceful evening...

A/N: Ooooooooh, boy! Hello, all! Did you miss me? This chapter. Wahoo! This chapter took a hot minute to write. Fun fact, it has the largest word count to date within this series. Isn't that crazy? Anyhoo, enjoy and I'll see you in chapter 4!

Content Warning: Angst, ANGST, aaaaaaaaangst! Self-deprecating feelings and blood. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

=================================

His world was violently swaying or more precisely, the Revenge was being pushed this way and that by the violent waves of the expected storm. But the weather beyond the porthole did not concern the silver-haired pirate. He had lived his life on the seven seas long enough to know when he was in a life or death situation and what lay beyond the glass, was not even worth his concern.

No, no, the only tempest that plagued the great Israel Hands, was the tempest that brewed within his mind. His earlier interaction with you played on repeat, tormenting and mocking him for how incredibly unforgiving he had acted towards you. The only crime you had commited had been caring about his wellbeing and being the bastard he was, Izzy had reacted poorly. Surely making you regret even acknowledging his feelings or perhaps ever acknowledging him. The words, 'I'm sorry' would definitely not suffice in repairing the damage between you he had caused.

In some ways, he wished that Edward had underestimated the severity of the storm. If the Revenge sunk, the First Mate would never have to face the consequences of his actions come daybreak.

A sudden loud clattering sound, followed by a string of muffled curses peeked the pirate's attention. At such an hour, he had assumed everyone, bar those on watch- had retired for the night, planning to try and sleep through the worst of the sea's displeasure. So, who the fuck exactly was roaming the halls?

On unsteady feet- well, foot- it took a major effort on Izzy's part, to make it to the door in one piece. Every extreme rocking of the cabin threatened to trip him up and the last thing he needed was to inelegantly become acquainted with the floor.

Upon opening the door, the sight before his every eyes was one that he did not wholly unwelcome but met with a certain degree of reluctance. He could never be disappointed to see you splendid self. However, after his antics in the morning, Izzy did wish he was not the one to discover your angered self.

Noticing something moge in your periphery, you quickly turned to face whoever had stumbled across your moment of distress but when you took in the unusually dishevelled and sleep deprived appeance of your First Mate, you could not resist the annoyance that bubbled up within your chest. "Oh, good. It's you."

Yeah, he deserved that kind of reaction and more, Izzy mused. "Nice to see you too, (y/n)." but then, as was custom with him, th silver-haired pirate frowned, confused as to why you were not tucked up in bed. "What the fuck are you doing still up? I thought you were playing roomies with your friends?"

"I was but then everyone got seasick." your grumbled, wishing your crewmates possessed a stronger constitution. The smell of vomit was sure to haunt you throughout the entirety of the night.

"Define 'everyone'."

"Be easier to list who isn't throwing up." the fallen cup rolled and tapped against your foot, as the ship violently rocked once more, reminding you of the unattended spillage. "Fuck, there's tea everywhere."

"Careful, you'll slip." Izzy was quick to hold out a stabilising arm for you to hold onto, as you ducked to retrieve the cup. Despite your earlier annoyance, you were grateful for his presence beside you. Taking a hold of the offered arm, you managed to grab the cup before it rolled further away, though there was not much you could do about the tea.

"Thanks."

During the day, it was not often that you strayed into this area of the Revenge. Your dyties generally lay within the confines of the storage hold, kitchen or rec room, should you wander away from the deck. If younwere not sharing a cabin with your friends, nor were you attending to one of your crew mates, that could only have meant... "The rec room is in the opposite direction. Who needs tea in this part of the ship?"

It was wishful thinking on his part, to assume that you had been bringing him tea as a sort of olive branch, after his earlier outburst. Perhaps you had known how horrible he was at making amends unprompted and were taking matters into your own hands. Izzy's misplaced hopes were dashed with your response. "The Captain."

The First Mate should have known better than to be an optimist. Had life not already proven to him time and time again that this was no fairytale, that he did not get a happy ending? Upon hearing that the tea was intended for one of the ship's commander, he could not resist a sneer. "Oh, of course Stede fucking Bonnet can't keep his stomach contents down when there's a storm, that fuc-"

"The tea was for Ed." you interrupted with ease, effectively cutting Izzy's rant short. You were in no mood to listen to his tirade about The Gentleman Pirate.

You could have laughed at Izzy's horrified expression. Stede Bonnet was many things but a terrible leader? You could never share the same sentiment as the First Mate. You liked the co-captain a lot and to see Izzy failing to believe that it was his captain, that had forced you out of bed in the middle of a storm, well, you were going to have to ask Lucius to recapture the moment with charcoal and paper. "What? Edward..."

"Yeah, your beloved Blackbeard is currently vomiting his guts up." you scoffed in a similar Izzy fashion. "I'm supposed to be delivering ginger tea to anyone who's even looking remotely green, while Roach tries to not set the kitchen on fire." as if on cue, you entire world kiltered to the right, slamming you body first into the silver-haired pirate."Fuck!" you cursed loudly.

Thankfully, Izzy was not quite as uncoordinated as you. Years of life at sea had improved his balance greatly. "You're okay. You're alright." he reassured you, as he held onto you tightly, making sure to keep you upright. "I've got you. Just...hold onto me." he did not know whether to thank or curse the God's. Obviously, you were in great distress. However, he could not deny that he was thankful for the excuse to hold you close. Hell, his pining was downright pitiful. Never had he been so grateful for just the opportunity to hold someone. If you could have read his mind, no doubt you would have pushed him away in an instant. Probably called him a fee choice phrases too, as you struck his face with you palm. Now there was a mental image...

Izzy's arms were wrapped around you. Izzy's arms were wrapped around you! Thank the heavens above! You could not help but lean into his hold. If only it were under different conditions, the snide voice in your head reminded you with a cruel laugh. Still, you had to enjoy the rare moments of closeness you both shared. They were so far and few inbetween. Call you pathetic, call you deranged- no, seriously, that was what the First Mate would call you if he knew just how in love you were with him.

Another tilt of the ship sent you both tumbling into the opposite wall. This time, Izzy had you caged between his arms, carefully not to accidentally crush you with his form. In the low light, it was impossible to see the mutual blushes that burned scarlet on your faces. "How the hell am I supposed to move around the ship when it feels like we're about to capsize at any moment?" you fretted, knowing that you Captain was waiting for his tea.

"We're not gonna capsize."

"Tell that to Poseiden when he drowns us."

With an uncharacteristic laugh, Izzy was quick to settle your racing mind. "We're not going to-"

He never had a chance to finish his sentence. A crash of thunder and a particularly vicious wave, had you both on the floor in an instant. The little light that allowed you to see went out in a second, plunging the hallway into complete darkness. In the confusion of the moment, Izzy lost his grip on you.

Which way was up and which way down? He panicked, fumbling around for your form. "(Y/N)? (Y/N)!" he called out to you, listening intently for any sort of a reply over the weathering cacophony.

"Iz?" where was he? you questioned, desperate to be reunited with the First Hand. You could feel a wall behind your back, so at least you were still in the hallway and had not tumbled too far. "Iz, where are you?" you gave an involuntary jolt when you felt a hand grasp onto your shoulder. "Izzy?!"

"It's me, sorry." he apologised, as a wave of relief snuffed out his main concern. He had found you. "Anything broken?" he could feel you trembling against his hand. No doubt if the lights were working, you would look equally as terrified. His heart squeezed at the mere mental image.

"Don't think so." you were running on pure adrenaline, any aches or pains would not fully present themselves until you were out of harms way.

This was ridiculous. You were going to get injured- gravely wounded- if you were forced to continue with your task and Izzy could not stand by and let that happen. You were more important to him than most on that damn ship. No, all the seven seas. "Abandon your post, crewmate and get in the fucking cabin. Right now. Edward is just going to have to fetch his own fucking tea!" Izzy commanded, keeping you cradled against his chest, as he helped you both to stand.

"I heard that!" the echoed voice of the once feared Blackbeard reverberated above the booming thunder.

While the voice sent a shiver of worry through you, there was only one- well, two men- who did not flinch in the presence of the myth, the legend. Luckily, you were clinging to one of those very men. "Good, you selfish bastard!" Izzy called back without hesitation, before he called out once more into the obsidian black, "Roach!"

"Yeah?" the voice of the cook replied, unsure who was summoning him. "God?"

"Fucking give it up man and get back to your bunk. That's an order! Everyone else, stay where you are! Understood?"

He did wait to hear any of the replies, there was only one person on his mind now, you. "Come on, I've had enough of this."

When Izzy had previously fantasised about taking the journey from the hallway to his bed with you in tiw, it had usually been under very, very different circumstances. For starters, you were wearing too many clothes. "Have a seat." he offered before something caught his eye. Before you could question his sudden look of concern, the First Mate was already gripping your chin and tilting your face towards his.  "Shit." he gasped, eyes roaming over your face.

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, as you did everything in your power to not let your eyelids flutter shut. It felt as if every fibre was screaming, kiss me kiss me kiss me.  "W-What?"

"You're bleeding." he stated as a matter of fact, dropping his hand.

Well, that proverbial cold shower of a revelation was enough to cease your desirous thoughts and refocus your mind. "What, I am? Where?"

"Your lip." the First Mate admitted with a strained voice, the thought of kissing you running rampant through his mind. Why did you have to cut your lip of all things, as if you had chosen that area specifically just to torture him.

Your hand instantly rose to feel for the wound. "Oh." despite it's minimal size, your fingers drew away bloodied, as you felt a spike in pain. "Ouch!"

By pirating standards, your cut was nothing more than a scratch and yet, seeing you bleeding rattled Izzy's internal calm more than he was willing to admit. Life at sea was a dangerous one. Whether it was the elements, the blade of another's sword or even the lack of oranges- death was always nipping at your heels. The reality of your fragility was just too much for him to process at that time, Izzy needed to focus and at least prevent the cut from becoming infected. "I haven't got a med kit in here." he murmured, looking around his sparsely furnished room. It had become common place to have Roach patch up all and every injury that, Izzy had become lax with his own medical supplies. He had used the last lot of bandages to tend to his leg.

"It's fine, I'm sure it'll stop bleeding in a moment."

Thinking quickly on his foot, Izzy reached over for leather waistcoat, which he had hung up earlier on a nearby chair, before he had called it a night. Reaching inside on of the pockets, he produced a rectangular piece of brilliant white cloth. "Here, use this. It'll have to do for now."

You tried not to think about how your fingers brushed together, as you took the material from him. If only you had known that Izzy's mind was working double time, focusing on the same preoccupation. Unfolding the square, you noticed something unusual sown into one of the corners. "This is a monogrammed handkerchief." you chuckled.

His cheeks warmed to the sound. He was really in for it now, Izzy thought glumly, as he prepared himself for the onslaught of mocking that would ensue from you and undoubtedly, the crew when you eventually told them. If you told them. Had you ever divulged one of his secrets? Izzy could not recall a time you had indeed betrayed his trust. Perhaps he was overthinking things? "Congratulations, you have functioning eyes." he grumbled.

"Since when does the great Israel Hands own lacey doilies with his name on them?" your tone was interwoven with that familiar playfulness. Devoid of all and any malice. Just a sign that, for the time being, you were going to tease the ever-loving life out of the First Mate.

"Oh, fuck off. I was a gift from that twat we have to call a co-captain." it a moment of boldness, hecdared to gently nudge your side with his elbow. Not enough to jostle your too much, as you regarded the dove white fabric.

It was the finest handkerchief you had ever laid eyes upon. The thin accent of lace around the perimeter edge, screamed of intricate artistry. The fabric alone must have been worth a fair bit. Woukd probably buy a pint or five at Spanish Jackie's tavern. You were surprised that he had kept the pretty item, instead of trading it for an item he would actually prefer.

"You sure you want me to get my blood all over it?"

"I'd rather you just stop yapping and start trying to lessen the amount of blood on your face." there was no anger to be found in Izzy' words. He just wanted to see the wound temporarily treated. Thankfully, you complied with his request and soundlessly applied the handkerchief to your lip, wincing at it made contact with the inflamed area. Out of sight, out of mind, Izzy could relax somewhat and not have his gaze permanently fixated to your lips and his mind constantly begging the question, what would they feel like against his?

The quiet that ensued was comfortable, not awkward. Much like the many times you had spent the night shift together, simply stood side by side on the bow, playing witness to the inky midnight blue wonder, that was the sea and the sky. "Thanks, by the way. Not just for the handkerchief but for letting me stay in here." you eventually murmured, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the night.

"Well, it's better you're here." and he meant that wholeheartedly. Things were always better when you were around, but true to his nature, Izzy quickly added, "Can't have you knocking yourself out or some shit. I'll need every competent pirate on deck first thing in the morning. Someone's gotta make sure this boat stays afloat."

"Right, yeah. Of course." did he dare delude himself into thinking he heard a slight inflection of disappointment in your tone? After another pause, you pulled the handkerchief away to examine the amount of blood. Hell, even injured, you looked exquisite. "Do you think it'll scar?"

"No, I think your pretty little face will be just fine." he responded without thought.

As soon as that familiar grin lit up your face, Izzy knew he was in trouble. Why had he used that word to describe you. Colleagues did not call each other pretty. Well, Stede fucking Bonnet's crew did but they were hardly atypical pirates. And you knew Izzy better than most, maybe even better than Ed, you woukd know immediately it was not just a turn of a phrase. You woukd see through any facade he put up to downplay the situation. You would know his little secret and surely be disgusted by him. "You think I'm pretty?"

"I..." his cheeks and neck burned a furious beetroot red. Not like this, he cursed his careless tongue for it's betrayal. Please don't let them find out like this.  "I, um..."

Little did the First Mate know that his fumbling response put a kibosh on any hope you had that the silver-haired pirate shared any of your feelings. It had been a fool's dream to believe that the great Israel Hands could ever fall for a mediocre sailor as yourself but still, you had put your faith in a hurtful delusion and you only had yourself to blame for the pain you now felt. 

Immediately, Izzy noticed your face drop in disappointment. His stomach twisted and knotted itself with anxiety, as he misconstrued your crestfallen expression to be the result of embarrassment at his accidental admission of admiration of your beauty. "It's fine, Izzy. I was just teasing you. You don't actually need to answer me." you mumbled, half-heartedly trying to reassure the man that you were not dispirited by his lack of interest in you.

"No, I-" he needed to explain himself, needed to make amends but why, oh why, would his brain not engage with his mouth. He was Israel Hands, damn it! Not some bumbling fool, like that moronic so called co-captain and yet, that imbecile had managed to secure himself a somewhat steady- if not, whim-prone- relationship. Why was it so difficult for Izzy to be as equally successful in matters of the heart?!

As the seconds slipped by, he was losing you further and further into your spiral of self-doubt. "It's late. If you've got any spare bedding, I'm happy to take the floor." you conceeded, wanting the night to be over and done with now. The fortuitous opportunity to spend the night in Izzy's cabin had become your very own cursed suit. You should have just told him to 'piss off' and spent the night failing to deliver tea to your fellow crewmates but nooooooo, fate had decided that that was too kind at situation for you. Instead, you had had to play witness to revelation of Izzy's disinterest in you and now, all you wanted to do was pretend to sleep until the storm had passed and then, you would flee to a new ship and change your identity at the earliest opportunity.

"You can have the bed." he offered, knowing it was only fair to offer you tge one comfortable place to sleep, after he had made you feel so uncomfortable, that you were dismissing him completely and wanting to hurry to sleep, so you could leave immediately once the storm had settled.

"No, this is your room, that wouldn't be fair."

It was late and in all honesty, Izzy too just wanted this ordeal to meet it's end. There was only so much discouragement one man could feel before he decided enough was enough. "Just take the bed, (y/n)." he sighed wearily, hoping you would not argue further.

Oh, how wrong he was. "But your leg-"

Just as you had only hours before, you made a comment about his wellbeing and without control over his response, he was quick to snap, "-I'm still capable of lying down on the fucking floor with one leg." Izzy sneered, sick to the back teeth of people assuming that because he was one leg down, that he was now incapable of living the arduous life of a pirate. That his disability had made him soft now.

But you just had about enough of his tumultuous temper. "I know that, Izzy! Fuck, you make me feel like I can't ever say the right thing to you." you spat right back at him, arms folded crossed over your chest as you hugged yourself. You used the gesture as a a form of protection from whatever vile response he would say in rebuke to your confession. "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable., that's all. I know your leg still hurts sometimes." the final part of your defense was mumbled, as you will to fight died on arrival.

You were tired. Not just physically but mentally too. He exhausted you  to no end. All you wished was to one day have a civilised conversation with this man, without fear that he would suddenly snarl at you in anger at the drop of a dime.

Despite your preparation of the onslaught of curses and vulgar language you had come to expect from talking back at the fearsome pirate, all you were met with was contemplative silence, as Izzy mulled over your words.

He had always known his short fuse would push you away one day. In fact, he was certain of it. If he were a better men, he would risk his entire savings on those odds. He would be a winning man while losing you forever. "Do you mean that?"

"What?"

Hearing you admit your frustrations, made the silver-haired pirate's heart sink into the pit of his stomach. Looking at you now, as you refused to return his gaze, made Izzy wish he could get on his knees before you and beg for forgiveness. "About me making you feel like you never say the right thing?"

"Well, yeah." you shrugged. Stede always preached that honesty was the best policy and as much as Izzy might have wanted to run thr man through with his blade, you had to admit, the co-captain made some good points. "I feel like I'm always walking on eggshells around you. One minute we'll be having a normal enough conversation and then the next, you're telling me to 'fuck off'. And I get that's just how you are and that's fine, I guess but it makes me really anxious. Like I'm just waiting to say something that'll accidentally make you angry."

You thought back to your time on deck that morning. How a perfectly fine conversation had ended with you humiliated and fighting back tears, as you had finished the dregs of your one hot tea. Knowing the crew had played witness to your talking down, had planted the seed  of an unshakeable sense of shame within your very core. You had felt Lucius's eyes boring a hole into the back of your skull, as you had fled the scene. You thanked your fair weather stars that something had compelled him not to follow you. The last thing you had needed was pity. "You know what, this was a mistake. I'm sorry, forget I said anything. I'm gonna go."

You had planned in that moment to make a quick exit. Well, as quick as the violent swaying of the ship would permit you. As you stood on unsteady legs to leave, you felt something catch your wrist and prevent you from fleeing into the night.

Izzy's grip was not tight enough to hurt you. As a matter of fact, in all your time in knowing him, the word gentle was not a word you would have ever associated with the First Mate. Yet, the hand that encircled your arm was not only warm to the touch but could even be considered as tender in it's gesture. "Sit down." he softly commanded.

You hated how the tonal change made you feel weak at the knee. For goodness sake, the man did not even think you pretty! You should most definitely have not been feeling flushed at him calmly ordering you around. "I'd rather not." you said, voice strained, as you prayed he would not notice how fucking whipped you were for him.

"Just...sit down, (y/n)." he implored, regarding you with an expression that crumbled your resolve to runaway. So, instead, you sank back onto the bed, trying not to get distracted by the feeling of his hand still touching your flushed skin. The sensation threatened to send a shiver down your spine. This, this was what the man was capable of doing to you. If only he knew the power he had over you. You were melting with only a gentle hold.

He should have let go. Izzy was fully aware he was pushing his luck. Letting his fingers linger around your wrist, even though you were no longer a flight risk but he could not help himself. He was not an indulgent man. In reality, he was deprived, hollowed out and starving for all and any scraps of closeness that came his way. So, he held on...just for a moment longer. Relishing in the feeling of having you beneath his fingertips. In another life, he may have even been permitted to hold your hand. What a privilege it would be, to lace your fingers with his. Oh, how he yearned for such a simple touch. "I know that I'm a fucking nightmare to be around-"

And right on cue, you jumped to your defense. "-I didn't mean it like that!"

"Will you just shut the fuck up for a moment?" he started, quickly stopping himself once more. Was that type of talk not the exact reason he was trying to make amends? With a weary sigh, Izzy wiped a hand over his face, finally freeing your wrist. Much to your mutual disappointment. "Please?" he all but begged, causing your heart to skip a beat. "I never meant to make you feel that way. Out of all the morons on this ship, you...well, you actually make my life a little less shit. I can't promise I'll totally change but," this was a completely new side to the pirate you had hoped but could not ever confirm actually existed. "I'll try to make it feel less like eggshells around here." "That good enough for now?

After years of fighting tooth and nail for survival on ship after ship, any shred of vulnerability had been locked away, out harms away. With a heart turned to stone, harmful habits had been acquired and for a long time, that had been fine. Acceptable, even. Then Stede fucking Bonnet with his 'talk it through as a crew' had come along and turned Izzy's life of piracy upside down. Threats, fights and all sorts of vulgarity were no longer the standard upon the vessel and truth be told, Izzy was struggling with the adjustment. He knew he needed to change for the better but he had never had to motivation to do so. Not until you.

Then the silver-haired pirate waited with bated breath for your reply. Half-expecting, half-wanting you to completely reject his offer. It would be easier for him to remain set in his ways, to not put in the work. Your refusal would only fuel his terrible mood. It would be easier for Izzy to accept your hatred, than your kindness. Such tenderness woukd only ever leave him question, why?  A wretched dog as he deserved only to be put down, not cared for by someone so conscientious and hard-working as yourself. You were the best of all of them.

So, when your tearful, "Thank you", left your lips, Izzy knew he was a goner. From the moment on, he would put in the work and strive to be worthy of your friendship. He had a long, arduous road ahead of him.

Maybe he could wait to start his self-improvement in the morning, he thought, as a yawn threatened yo spill from his lips. "That being said," he added, noting the way your glassy expression hardened, as you looked at him warily. "You're still taking the bed." he smirked, as unsurity morphed into incredulousness in an instant.

"Izzy!" your yell of exasperation only made his smile widen.

"That's an order, (y/n)."

Gently shoving his arm, you pouted. Glad the tense moment between you had passed. "You're not sleeping on the floor, you twat!"

Rolling his eyes but daring to lean into your side playfully, he scoffed.  "Oh yeah and what's your bright idea then, that we both share the bed or something?!"

=============================

A/N: Guess what happens in the next chapter...

[queerplatonicshipshowdown]

Quarterfinals, Match 1

Balloon and Suitcase (Suitloon) from Inanimate Insanity vs. John Doe and Arthur Lester (Jarthur) from Malevolent!

Propaganda for Suitloon:

I think of them as queerplatonic, because theyre incredibly close and are pretty much each other's support systems. Balloon is Aromantic (technically canon? one of the creators said he was so im rlly hoping it is canon) so this is NOT a romantic ship. They dont have any romantic interactions, but you can spin every scene how you want. I just think they're in a QPR and are heavily supportive and understanding to each other. (Since like. half the people in the show fucking hate Balloon, and not many people seem to like to let Suitcase speak for herself)

Propaganda for Jarthur:

The inherent intimacy of having a guy (John) inside your (Arthur) head who you don't know the history or goals of but still bond over the atrocities you go through in your shared body. And sometimes he's an arsehole but you know that he wants the best for you and it's so much more than any other relationship they could have and in the end they always have eachother and I'm jealous of a sad British man and the voice in his head. They're friends and each others world and everything and I want what they have. OH DID I MENTION THAT ARTHUR IS FUCKINF BLIND AND JOHN IS HIS ONLY ACCESS TO SIGHT? IT'S BEAUTIFUL. Like John always takes such care to describe their surroundings (no seriously he starts waxing poetic). I mean yh he withholds it sometimes but every door has its issues. Anyways yh I love them and they deserve the world.

They are extremely close, both literally and figuratively. John is inside of Arthur's head, and they often fight in ways that have been referred to by the fans as 'divorce moments' but they still very clearly care about and love each other, in a way that is explicitely non-romantic. Their love is desperate and aching and they're not just friends, but they are definitely not dating, and a LOT of the fandom interprets them as queerplatonic.

Oh, the special kind of affection and friendship that can only bloom between a 1930s private detective and the eldritch entity that ends up possessing his eyes and left arm. 95% of this show is Arthur (the detective) bickering with John (the eldritch entity) like an old married couple, and falling in and out of trust with each other. Despite that they are both fiercely loyal to the other and by the point the podcast is at now they seem to trust each other implicitly - Arthur has to rely on John to guide him since John can see out of the eyes of their body and Arthur can't, but when they fall into an abandoned mine and are reunited (long story) they immediately fall back into that old, trusting rhythm. They share a body and their initial goal in the podcast is to be separated, but by the point we're at now they're not too fussed about it. They're making plans to go out to dinner and the movies. Also, Arthur is aro-coded - there's a big emotional arc that involves him accepting the fact that he never had romantic feelings for his wife, even during the birth of their child or her death, and how that doesn't make him a bad person or diminish the love he felt for that child.

They have fought gods together. Also they're positive plural representation. What is there not to love????

[blitzwhore]

Circus AU for the WIP ask game

Aaaaah, this is a wip that is currently on stand-by because it's also a multi-chapter fic idea and I can't work on two of those at the same time. My plan is for this one to be my main fic after I wrap up the tattoo shop AU!!! So if everything goes according to my plan, this should be the next big fic I work on ❤️

This is an AU in which, before the fire takes place, while they're all still teenagers, Blitz finds a passed-out Stolas buried in a stack of hay in the horses' stables. They remember each other from when they were kids, but they never met again, and Blitz has no idea how or why Stolas ended up here. All Stolas will tell him is he has nowhere else to go.

My plan for this fic is actually for the main ship to be Fizz/Blitz/Stolas! I'd love for both Fizz and Stolas to love Blitz fiercely, and help Blitz learn how to let himself be loved. It's a journey in which Blitz comes to understand that he doesn't have to choose between just one of the two boys he's fallen in love with, and that he's worthy of both of them, and they all can make each other happy in a way that works for them.

Here's a little snippet:

He couldn’t even remember the last time Cash had complimented him. Every single day, after every act, his dad congratulated all the performers on their work, smiling widely at them, sometimes even hugging them if he felt particularly affectionate. He hugged Barbie and Fizz more than anyone else, endless streams of praise falling from his lips as he took them outside to meet the crowd. He loved showing them off for everyone to see. Like they were jewels he was collecting. Like they were precious. 

But Blitzo couldn’t remember the last time his own dad had congratulated, or smiled at, or much less hugged him.

He loved to tell himself he didn't care—that he didn't need his father's approval. But the tears that streamed down his face even as he thought about it told a different story. 

In the cozy quietness of the stables, Blitzo cried, pressing his face against the mare’s soft flank to muffle his sobs.

He really didn’t want to hold any of this against Fizz or Barbie. He loved them more than anything in this world. It was him that was the problem. Him that made things worse. Him that was a fucking waste of space.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

He was sniffling and carding his fingers through the mare’s soft mane when the spikes at his back shivered and stood. A moment later, he realized why: something had moved in the far corner of the tent, just within his blurry line of sight. 

Straightening, Blitzo quickly wiped away his tears and scanned the area. 

Stacks of hay were haphazardly spread over the area. Blitzo had been insisting on getting some hay nets for some time now, to no avail. Nothing seemed to be amiss, at least not until—

A black leg poked from under a stack and dragged across the ground, its sharp claws twitching.

His heart jumped. Without thinking, he grabbed the nearest object he could find that could serve as a weapon—a rusty old rake with a half-rotten stick—and approached whatever, or whoever, was hiding under the hay. 

“Who’s there?” he asked, holding the rake in front of himself. When no reply came, he poked the foot warily. It retracted back under the hay, leaving behind a single, gray feather. 

Blitzo frowned. With careful movements, he poked the hay with the rake, revealing a long, black leg, covered with light brown trousers—a person. Alarm turning into worry, he dropped the rack and pushed more hay aside, uncovering another leg, a black blouse of some kind, a dark gray, silky cape, a long, feathered neck, a white face—

Stolas.

It was him, wasn’t it? The Goetia prince. Blitzo had only met him once forever ago, but he distinctly remembered the owl having a heart-shaped face with four eyes.

What the fuck?

This needs some editing, and I know this fic won't see the light of day anytime soon, but I'm still really really excited about it! ❤️

[wordy-little-witch]

Hiiii i hope im not annoying u or anything w my frequent asks dksjzjzjz if so pls dont feel pressured to answer it, it do be tiring esp in this heat n economy 😬

i just saw another great post abt buggy having oblivious survival clown rizz and im like that victorian era boy with a bowl saying "pls sir" CUZ i need more of it😭🥹🤲🥣 i never knew i needed it but now my eyes are opened,,, so im guessing buggy has rizzed more than half of the entire pirate population and the landlubber population, but does dis also extend to the enemy/marines? 😳 also can i ask for more buggy accidental rizz headcanons n ideas? Actually any ideas u have r rly great, its extra dopamine or feels when u update lmao

thank u for replying to my questions🥹

Hiiiii~ don't worry about being annoying, love, I love hearing from you! Honestly, having asks makes me all fluttery and happy, it's like digital tumblr penpal friendship hehe~

As for Accidental Rizz Buggy, BABES I have TOO MANY THOUGHTS

On the Marine topic, ABSOLUTELY and I am LOSING IT over the mental image of Buggy having a fan club in the Navy and he just Doesn't Know.

I already ship Rosinante/Corazon and Buggy ANYWAY and so I am so down for pirate/marine ships bc it's so good ong-

Specifically speaking, I can see Buggy accidentally doing some accidental charming either by showing some of his rarely touched on moral ambiguity. Like. Dude does not subscribe to the general populace, he marches to his own drum and we love him for it. The world of One Piece has a recurring theme of Morally Gray and No Such Thing As Good Or Bad type of stuff. Especially with Pirates vs Marines.

So like. Imagine Buggy being involved in some sort of mad wild bullshit hunt/fight, he's escaping the Marines, he's cackling, making a show of it and between one taunt and the next, he catches sight of movement in an alley way.

Two pairs of eyes stare back, wide, terrified, and he freezes.

Immediately all fight and threat drains, and he turns to the alley. "Hey," he greets softly, not too gently but with care dripping from the vowels. "What are you brats doing out here, huh? It's dangerous."

The Marines try to cut in and Buggy disengages at best, forces them back at worst.

"Time and a place," he tells them, "change of plans, there's kids here. Time out, buddy."

He's soft with them, but not alarmingly so to their wild eyes. He recognizes the signs there, and he simply lets them choose their pace.

The officers there view a new side of a fierce pirate, one who would quail under a sharp look one moment and glare back, hissing in fury thr next to a commanding officer with two little ones to protect. He is multifaceted. He is complex. He is.....

Really pretty.

Uh oh.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Bonus, Buggy absolutely accidentally charms the FUCK out of Sengoku, both in a CoraBug sense and in a non shipping sense. I feel like Buggy would annoy his way into being Sengoku's beloathed favorite. He's suffering through it all. Very much "unfortunately, I like you" type of deal.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy: does something surprising/cute/attractive/competent

The world: oh I guess I gotta kiss this muppet senseless

[addisonstars]

"mornings with you"

written for day 29/30 of september for @jegulus-microfic with the prompts "permanent/draw"

565 words

Regulus had already gotten up by the time James had awoken. His side of the bed was cold and made, just like typical Reg. 

Feet quietly sounding on the hardwood floor, James walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he knew that Reg would be. He came up behind him and hugged his hands around Regulus' waist, fingers brushing the James tattooed right above his waistline, in between his hips. It was another permanent, not so subtle reminder that he was James’ and nobody else's. 

A while ago, Regulus had asked James to draw his name out for him on a little piece of paper. James didn’t question it, happily complying with whatever his husband wanted. But later, when Regulus came home with a new tattoo, James probably should have. Seeing James in black ink in that perfect sight had James drooling. 

It was all that James could do to shag him right then and there in their living room with Teddy, who they were babysitting for the afternoon, napping in the guest bedroom. However, James had enough self-control to wait until Sirius and Remus came and picked Teds up and they had left the driveway. Then, it was all over for him. 

“Good morning love,” James drawled, voice heavy with sleep. It was a noise that made Regulus weak in the knees. 

“‘Morning.” Regulus replied. He handed one cup of coffee to James, loaded with creamer and then kept the other one for himself, black. “Hey, Sirius called earlier this morning and he needs to watch Teddy again today. He should be over to drop him off in a couple hours. I already set up his crib, we just need to Teddy-proof the rest of the house.” 

James laughed. “”Kay love. And you're not gonna come home after work with another surprise like you did last time right?” He added, referring to the tattoo. 

It was Regulus’ turn to laugh. “Not unless you want me too, love.” 

James smirked. “Well, if you make any plans on a whim, call Sirius and Remus to pick Teddy up when you're done, so that way I don’t have to wait.” 

“Wait for what exactly?” Regulus asked, feigning innocence. 

Rolling his eyes, James said with total confidence, “Wait to fuck you upon every surface of this house. You don’t know how fuckable you looked with that tattoo. With my name, right there, just begging, pleading, for something. I think I’d take you first on the couch, start soft, then move-”

“James.” Regulus cut through his sex fantasy with a stern look. “Don’t start that this morning. I have to get to work and I really don’t want to be late because you're acting like a teenager who can’t control himself.” 

“It’s not my fault that you look like, well you, every day.” 

Regulus smiled and left to go to take a shower and get to work. Just as he was leaving the kitchen he called out to James. “Jamie! Teddy-proof the house while I’m getting ready please!” 

“I can’t join you today?”

Of course James would want to join Regulus in the shower, even though he just got onto him for not having self control. But alas, Regulus wasn't going to complain if James wasn’t. 

“Fine. But only because I love you.”

James hurried after Regulus, not wanting to waste any moment of his time.

well well, its the end of the month and the last day of september microfics! we made (i missed a couple days whoops, but i have a life lol) hope you guys enjoyed reading these!! i enjoyed writing them! i wont stick to any one specific ship next month, it'll be a whenever i want to type of thing lol. have a great rest of your saturday lovelies, take care. <33

-a.s.

[abbonation]

Lost Apprentice, Chapter I: Get Clean

Admitting you have a problem is the hardest part.

Explicit, 18+ content ~1.9k words

A/N: Welcome one, welcome all to the first full length fic of mine that isn't only smut! Blame it on the anti-depressants, blame it on the times but a bitch is needing some story goddamnit. Something with some bite to it. Which is something I've honestly never written before; that being said- feedback is welcomed and encouraged! This first chapter is shorter but I have the next few started and will hopefully update a couple times a week as I have time between work and school :)

CWs: accidental voyeurism; like 1 (one) horny thought?? It's light asf this chapter but let me know if you notice other necessary warnings I didn't include!!

Chapter I: Get Clean

A loud sight of relief escapes you upon stepping over the threshold of the combination bar and inn located— where the fuck are we? Eriadu? Ahh right, a small town on Eriadu. The jungle planet known only for its proximity to both the Hydian Way and Rimma trade route.

It had been nineteen, yes, nineteen full day cycles since your last shower, and technically you didn’t start feeling really nasty until about the seventh cycle mark, seeing as the first three were spent in hyperspace, but still. Over two full galactic weeks. No shower. And of course the Crest didn’t have even a sonic shower, yet Mando wondered why you seemed to be feeling stressed. Certainly it had nothing to do with the utter stink that was surely wafting off your body at this point, knowing full well he had the credits to install a complete fresher on the ship.

But, you were here now, a few warn down buildings, most covered in moss, but civilization nonetheless, where Mando had said We’ll refuel and rest up- then I’ll take you home.

He approached the bar where a Trandoshan man stands, wiping the counter. 

“Are your bathing stalls private?” Mando asks, hands on his utility belt. 

“Well, there are no bath stalls, but we have a bath house; it’s 5 credits a person, you get an hour. It’s public but there ain’ been a soul in there all day, so it’s all yours.” He smiles and you nod in thanks.

Mando turns to you, you can almost see the raised eyebrows on his face through the visor.

“I don’t mind sharing, I mean, if you’re okay with it.” you throw your hands up, honestly you’d wash in a mud puddle at this point if it meant feeling any less dirty than you are right now. 

He turns back to the bartender, passing him 10 credits and walking where he points, they’re just down the stairs and behind the double doors. Enjoy. You glare at his smirk.

—

“I don’t, uh, want to make you wait so you can go first,” Mando stumbles out, holding his towels. 

“Nah, it’s okay, you are the captain and all,” you respond- even if what you’d like to say is ‘Sounds great, if I have to smell like hot garbage for even one more minute I may implode.” 

“No really, I insist, it’s my fault we’re late getting back anyway.” He looks down at the tiled floor.

You think about how he insisted you stay by the treeline as the group of criminals passed by. There was no bounty catching or murdering scheduled for this trip, you were just supposed to be helping him find a pre-galactic war era ruin that was rumored to be in the jungle on this planet. Yet, there they were, and there he went. You had ended up intervening, shouting some shit like, “Oh no Mando! I’m so scared!” Trying to distract the attackers. Four armed men looked like they should’ve been a struggle, but he handled it no problem, especially with your distraction. They turned and two began running towards you, and Mando had to duck and weave between the other two to reach them. You had your dagger out and at the ready, slicing at one of them when he got you up against a tree. When he lunged towards your neck, you dropped your weight, stabbing the dagger into the meat of his thigh and pulling up, slicing through his flesh. He shrieked and fell in pain, blood dripping down your arms. You quickly removed the dagger, turning to run from him, when you looked back to see Mando stomping on his face. You swallow and stare at the boot shaped hole he was making, growling in effort, the other three men lay surrounding Mando. You hold the knife out again when he turns towards you, an unintentional move following what you just bared witness to. 

He stepped forward, “Why did you do that?” He’s angry. 

“I-I’m sorry I was trying-” you sound weak, and you hate it.

“I don’t care about ‘trying to help’. You could’ve been killed. Or worse, and you know it.” He’s closer now, still angry, but less yelling in your face.

“I thought I could help.” You say to the ground. 

He releases a breath and turns, resuming the trek back out of the forest towards the Crest. 

—

And after the small amount of back and forth, here you are. Sharing the deep stone bath, overflowing with steamy lavender and salt scented water, the stained glass inlaid in the ceiling casts a spectacular light on the room and a thin divider made of spindly, vine-like woven reed material separates you and Mando. 

You’re sure he won’t take the helmet off, that’s his prerogative, though. For now you let the hot water loosen your tight muscles and bones, cramped from the lack of moving room on the ship. There’s a tense silence between you, save for the trickling water and distant sounds of the bar beyond the doors.

“Listen, uh, about the jungle,” You hear his voice, and confirm that he still has the helmet on from the tune of his vocoder, and peek over to your right to see his blurred outline through the divider. 

“It’s.. nothing. Let’s not mention it.” You don’t want to think anymore about his over-protection despite your barely being what you might consider ‘friends’. Or the fact that you liked watching him kill the person who meant to hurt you.

“I just- don’t want to be the reason you get killed. That’s all.”

The water splashes when he puts his arms back down.

“Why did you ask me to come if you didn’t want all the help I can offer, Mando?”

“You know I didn’t ask you to come to be my bodyguard. You’re better at the, y’know, the smart stuff. And I’m better at the.. Killing stuff. They weren’t going to get the chance to mug us.”  You laugh at him then, he’s right. 

Silence overtakes you both again and you can’t seem to keep the anger at his actions at surface level when the water feels this good and he doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.

You brush your fingertips over your scalp and down the front of your chest, brushing over your nipples and shivering when the chilly air hardens them. Too risky for now, though you are keyed up from the last couple weeks. You sink down until just your nose and the top of your head rests above the water, and blow bubbles on the surface.

“What’s that?” His voice turns towards you.

“Blowin’ some bubbles,” you hope he hears your smile, this really is a luxurious place, even if it came after a lot of suffering. “So, where to after this?”

You start to shampoo your hair, working the suds over your head.

“Like I said, I’m taking you back to Obroa-Skai.” 

“No pit stops this time, Mando?”

You’re rinsing your hair and smoothing in the conditioner now. 

“Well- I actually did calculate in a stop on Nevarro for some bounties, if that’s okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s on our way right? I don’t mind, nothing to do back at home except examine more rocks,” you laugh and lean towards the divider to grab the bar of soap when you inadvertently get a glimpse to his side of the bath through the divider.

His bare thighs with wet hair slicked to them stick out of the water, he’s leaned back on the same wall you were. His sun kissed stomach slopes down to a delicious happy trail, and you breathe out, blinking hard to snap out of your trance. “Sorry what?” 

“I asked if you like your job.”

“Yeah, um, I mean, as much as anyone likes their job, I guess. It’s nice to enjoy what you do even just a little bit.” You lather the bar against the sponge and begin washing your feet and legs, up towards your thighs.

“Why haven’t you been bounty hunting recently?” You knew there had to be a reason he needed your help on this trip, he hadn’t divulged it yet. 

The water sloshes on his side, he’s washing himself now too.

“Remember the uh, the kid I had with me last time we stopped on your planet?” 

“Sure, the green baby? That was a bounty though, right?” 

“Yeah, he was, he sort of became more than that though. I ended up.. keeping him.” 

Your scrubbing comes to a halt and you turn to the divider, “Wait, you what?”

“I kept him. He’s my ad’ika, my son.” 

Your eyes close and you shake your head, trying to make sense of things. “So you just kept this child? And whoever put the bounty out let you?”

“Not exactly, it’s a long story. I’ll explain eventually, but I asked because you helped me a lot- finding this remnant, it would be nice to have your help more readily available in the future… and I’m looking for him, I need to know he’s safe.” 

“So someone took him?” 

“No, just.. Okay. He’s a Jedi and he’s training with his master. I gave him over willingly, but I don’t know where he is now.”

“Mando you’re fucking crazy.” You have to laugh at the situation. 

“Excuse me?” He sounds wounded almost.

“I mean, not to be mean but we don’t talk, or see each other for like what? A year and a half? And you’ve had this crazy life changing journey, a child, new armor, new everything! It’s just.. wild. How do I know it’s even you under there? And now you want me to do what? Quit my job and surf the stars with you?” 

He’s quiet. 

“You’re- you’re right. It’s foolish of me.” 

You hear him start to get out of the water, splashing as he covers up in a towel. 

Fuck. That’s not what was supposed to happen. You stand up too, quickly reach to wrap up in your towel, and run-walk as quick as possible to meet him where he’s headed for the doors back to the changing room.

“Wait, Mando, that’s, that’s not what I meant.” You stop, and place your hand on his bare shoulder to turn him to face you. The T of his visor tilts down to look at your face, and where your hand rests on his skin. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of your search for your son. It’s just crazy how much has changed since we last saw each other, y’know?” 

You look up at him and notice his adam’s apple bob as he swallows and nods. 

“I didn’t say no. Or that I don’t want to, it's just.. insane, but that doesn’t always have to be a bad thing.” You smile and look down at his chest. 

The gentle trickle of the water spouts is the only sound, and the steamy heat of the room must be getting to your head when you move your hand down his clavicle to skate just your fingertips over the hair on his chest. He shivers. “I think I might want to. Just lemme think about it.” You move just your eyes up to meet the helmet and he clears his throat before he answers, nodding “Okay.”