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summermp3 · 2 months ago

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"𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇" (𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇!𝖾𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

→ in which you and Eddie become rivals after an illegal street race led to you breaking an arm and being locked up for a few months, what happens when he see's you again at one of the biggest races of his life?

Chapter two: DAY TWO

→ wordcount: 1.7k

→ warnings: Strong language, past childhood trauma, parental abuse, reader goes to prison for a little, reader crashes on her motorcycle, eventual smut, minors dni

→ Pairings: modern!streetracer!eddie x streetracer!fem!reader

lowkey boring chapter..

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At first, you wake up in a cold sweat. Your eyes dart around to get your eyes to focus on anything that will help ground you from the nightmare, they find a glowing red alarm clock the numbers read; 1:21am. The couch had begun to feel. not so comfortable throughout the night, but Eddie had offered you to stay with him regardless of knowing you for less than a few hours.

So you weren't about to complain.

You had tried getting to sleep again, but after tossing and turning and sighing after the way your back felt for about ten minutes. After a while, you just gave up on your rest and went to get a glass of water from the kitchen instead.

The floor creaked under the sudden pressure and at first, you thought it might've woke Eddie from his own sleep.

Fortunately, there were no signs of an awake Eddie Munson.

The tap water filled in for all the liquid you lost in the night, you now also realize that you could probably see through your shirt. Your feet carried you towards all the figurines on the shelves of the living room, various dungeons and dragons characters, and what you assumed was Lord of the Rings.

They were cute items, and as you picked one off the shelf you began to think how much he spent on an item like this.

"Put. that. down." His croaky voice had scared you so hard, you almost dropped his figure in your clammy hand.

"God...Edd—wait—do you have spidey senses or something, how did you know I was touching your shit." Slowly and carefully, you put his belongings down back on the shelf with all the others.

“My hands start tingling when people touch my stuff." He joked, only then did you take in his appearance.

Curly brown hair in a ponytail, baggy pants, and a tank top that was much too short...it showed a lot to the imagination.

You turn away.

"Couch isn't all that comfortable is it." Was he a mind reader or something? "I've spent a few nights there" he adds.

"It's better than what I'm used to lately, I'm really not in a position to complain." You reassured, turning back around to face him.

"Now...why are your clothes wet?" He rubs his eyes in case he's seeing what isn't there, however...

Your shirt was indeed showing more than you thought earlier, now your chest was almost on full display. "Sweat, it's kinda hot in here." You lie, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your breasts from showing even more. "It's lukewarm at most." He argues, pulling up his arms to show zero pit stains on his body.

"Maybe I have overreacting sweat glands."

"I love how you have excuses for everything, really makes these interactions between us more enjoyable." Eddie walks past, ever so slightly accidentally brushing his hand against yours as he shimmers past the small space to get behind you to the kitchen "I don't have excuses, just...it's...difficult." You sigh, sitting back on the uncomfortable couch.

"I figured that, by the way, you haven't told me anything about you. I took an estranged woman home after meeting her at a bar...For all I know, you might kill me." He grins, taking a cigarette off the marble kitchen counter.

"Mhm, very possible. I'd watch out if I were you. I'm known for being very 'dangerous'" You smile using your fingers for quotation marks.

Ring

"That must be your phone." He yawns, pointing to where your phone sat on the coffee table screen down, meaning neither of you had any way of knowing who exactly was calling.

Regardless of how long it rang, you ignored it.

"Avoiding someone?" He sits down next to you on the couch, leaning back on the couch pillows opposite you. "I avoid someone? That doesn't sound like me at all! I'm just talking to my new best friend Eddie...right?" He stares ahead into your eyes.

"Best friend hm? Here I was thinking I actually meant something to you." He passes you the freshly lit cigarette as he goes to open a window nearby. "Oh yeah, you mean everything to me. I love it when they've known me for less than 24 hours, it really gets me going" you joke, speaking seductively.

"Good to know" he smiles and you swear you see his tongue hiding behind his teeth "Now don't kill me, but I do actually have a spare bedroom" Your eyes widen. "You have a spare room and you let me sleep on your dumbass uncomfy couch?!" You yell, Eddie immediately 'shhhhing' you as your voice rises.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to complain?” Eddie tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

“That was until I knew you had a spare bedroom!”

"Old people live in this apartment building Toots!" He covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, you notice his ringed hand fits perfectly around your face…he listens for any indication of his neighbors waking up.

Although there is nothing.

"Are you trying to get me evicted? Then neither of us have a place to stay." Whispering, he removes his hand and points towards the hallway, indicating he wants you to follow him towards the corridor.

The carpet in the hallway and the wood in the living room are rough on the bottoms of your bare feet, but you’re willing to go through it to have a place to stay and a now…comfy bed.

Eddie stops outside of a doorway opposite his own bedroom, he twists open the door knob. Waiting for you to enter first then flicking on the lights.

“God that bed looks so comfortable Eddie, I'll never forgive you." You mutter under your breath. At first, you thought he hadn’t heard you but you knew he had when you by the sigh he let out shortly after. "I hadn't expected you to actually fall asleep on it." Eddie flicks the light switch so you're both surrounded by the dark.

"Time for bed...for real this time, sweetheart."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say" you fall onto the bed, sighing in actual pleasure of the linen sheets and pillows.

"Goodnight.." he expected to get a short and sweet, 'goodnight' from you, but when he turned around to inspect why you hadn’t.

He’d seen you had already fallen asleep, star-fished on the bed filled with white clean blankets.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Voices. voices were originally what had woken you, however, the exhaustion of last night drifted you back to sleep fairly quickly, and only woke up when Eddie had thrown something at your sleeping figure.

"Wake up idiot" a hard object connects with your clothed body underneath the blanket covers. "God it's like seven AM!" You groan.

"It's twelve PM—also, you missed breakfast." He states, walking out of the room. Upon inspecting what was thrown at you, your hand directly matched Eddie's motorcycle helmet.

Gathering on your clothes, you walk down the hall to meet Eddie who seemed to be packing away items from the coffee table. "What is this for?" You ask holding up the motorcycle helmet, and then your eyes immediately connect to the kitchen coffee machine. "That is for a motorcycle." He says bluntly, fixing items on his shelf.

"No shit, why did you throw it at me?"

"You're coming with me today; I don't trust you in my house alone." The whirring of the coffee machine drowns out everything else Eddie says. "Sweetheart?" He lightly grabs your shoulder. "I heard you, just thinking," you reassure.

You bring the cup of coffee to your lips and close your eyes in pleasure. "I already have a house...I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes." Holding the mug, you turn to face Eddie, whose expression is unreadable.

"And before you say anything, I'm taking myself. I have stuff to do first...anyway." He slowly nods as you speak. "But thank you for letting me stay last night, seriously I appreciate it more than you will ever know" You stroke Eddie's arm lightly.

"Of course, come back anytime you need a place to crash."

"I'll see you around?" You ask

"Maybe dead in a river somewhere." He adds

You both smile as you walk out the door.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It hadn't been a far work, around an hour or so.

The house looked the exact same as it had six months ago when you left it, although the grass and flowers were overgrown. It was still home.

Nothing had been locked and the windows had been open the whole time, walking in absolutely nothing had changed and you weren't sure if you would've preferred it had.

Really the only thing that had changed.

Was you.

The electricity and water were still on, meaning somebody must've been paying the bills that wasn't you. The nerves were surging through you, eyes flicking in confusion when the garage door was open at the end of the hall.

Slowly pushing the door open, your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat.

Your bike?

You were sure it had been impounded months ago by the police, so why was it here and why did it look like someone had been tending to it. Just when you were about to reach out and touch it, almost convinced this was all a dream.

Your pocket vibrated.

Eddie: make it 'home' safe?

You: yeah I made it to the brothel alright, few cuts on my feet...no biggie.

Eddie: send pics

You: of the brothel?

Eddie: I was thinking your feet actually.

You: "Mr foot-fetish Munson"

Eddie: Mr foot-fetish Munson was my father, please call me Jr foot-fetish Munson.

You: apologies.

Eddie: stay safe ㅤ♡

You hearted Eddies Message

The rest of the night was spent cleaning the house, not that it was messy but just old.

And by the time it was seven pm, your phone vibrated again.

Robin: Party tomorrow...you better show up!

You: I'll try make an appearance.

Having friends was for sure going to kill you.

TAGLIST: @mykuup

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader

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sparrowrye · 5 months ago

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, Act 3 part 18

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous Part

Part 18: the prelude

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alastor..."

Alastor dipped his head as he cut through the library to the kitchen. He locked eyes with mine half a second before they scanned the form my body was currently taking: legs more than shoulder width apart, hand grasping the counter, and other hand holding my stomach. On the floor was a glistening of water between my feet.

"My water just broke..."

His shadow was in Althea's room in a moment's notice. The healer was forced to give her task to her assistant so she could sprint up the hill. She met us trying to walk down the porch stairs. My hand was on my stomach from the contractions. Sweat was already coating my head as we walked down the makeshift wooden staircase on the cliff. Alastor kept insisting I let him carry me but I refused. I was doing this myself. That went out my mind halfway down the stairs.

His tentacles were careful as he carried me the rest of the way down. We passed the decoy cavern, Alastor making sure to light the lantern, and walked up a stone path. The cave I had carved out and prepared was small and narrow. Easy to defend. A small chute had been carved out in the back corner if anyone needed an escape. I wouldn't fit until I gave birth.

A small pool had been dug in the floor and filled with water. Alastor used magic to make it lukewarm and lowered me down. My clothes disappeared save for something to cover my top half. A carpet had been draped directly on the edge of the pool and little carved pieces of wood when I needed to grip something. Anything softer wouldn't survive my claws and teeth.

Alastor's magic was unable to soothe my fear of what was about to happen.

Vivian and Vilcin arrived by Alastor's shadow. They immediately kneeled beside Alastor who was allowing me to grasp his hand as tightly as possible. Althea was standing beside me in the water, sleeves rolled up. Now...the hard part.

****

Hours passed with nothing but pain. Alastor was trying his best to distract me, to give me something to focus on, but nothing helped. I was so tired and I hadn't even given birth yet. Alastor kept asking if I wanted his energy but I declined, waiting instead to use it for when I actually needed to give birth. I was tired, hot, uncomfortable, and in so much pain.

Vilcin had a basket of my favorite snacks, food, and drinks at the ready for afterwards. The treat was alluring and helped when I occasionally glanced at it behind my owl friend. They had been sending me their guinea pig recipes and plenty of my favorite sugary sweets ever since Alastor disappeared.

Vivian and I never had much time to talk. She was always on call during the school hours--being the head of our education system--and I was always busy defending the city or parenting the two rug-rats I called my children. After giving birth, I think I preferred having children unrelated to me.

My cries from pain echoed loudly off the walls. A boulder had been put in place to keep anyone from entering and to keep my howls from reaching curious ears. According to our sources, people still didn't know that I was pregnant--defenseless. I felt guilty for the ear piercing cries my friends were suffering from but one utter of an apology was silenced by Alastor. He was using magic to subdue my screaming. I was grateful because I could never imagine having anyone other than Althea, Vivian, Vilcin, and Alastor with me for this.

I was positioned in a frog-like position in the water. My elbows were on the carpet and grasping onto Alastor's red claws and a single piece of wood. We had planned it all. Once I started to actually give birth, Alastor would lift me up so I was standing on my own two feet. Gravity would help take the baby the rest of the way.

Something loud and something big shook the earth. Alastor and I locked eyes. Something wasn't right. Something was here. Something was here for me. For my baby.

People screaming and running crashed through my mind like a huge wave. The people were in danger. Something was attacking our city. Someone had gotten inside our city. Families were dying on the streets and loved ones cried for them.

Alastor gripped my shoulders but I couldn't pull myself out of it. Their pain was as evident as mine, their cries as loud as mine. I climbed my way back through our connection and gripped his arm. I met his eyes. "Go."

"You're mad. I will not--"

"People are dying, Alastor."

"You think I care? You are the most important thing right now."

"Charlie can't handle what's happening," I yelled.

"She's the princess of Hell."

"She's Charlie." I turned my claws on his sleeve. "They're looking for me. If you don't distract them, they will find me."

His eyes looked me over. I knew I was asking something hard of him. I could hear his thoughts. I was right. And he knew it. He had to give up this moment to save the city so he could in turn save me. I could feel the sadness and anger building as quickly as a summer storm.

"Please, Alastor. I'll be fine. I've got them." I nodded to my friends and they returned the sentiment.

He let out an angry, animal-like growl that contrasted the softness of his kiss on my forehead. The ground shook again. "I will bring a head on a platter as a gift." The pain briefly disappeared as I laughed. So long as we had Charlie and Alastor together, they stood a chance against an Angel. We would likely have Lucifer to help soon.

Alastor's shadow engulfed his form and whisked him off to battle. Our minds remained as separate as we could make them to allow each other space to focus on our own tasks.

Contraction after contraction rocked through my body. I was just so tired and ready to be done. Why couldn't I just give birth and be over? Why did it have to take so long? Why did it have to be so painful?

I gripped the carpet and shifted my sitting position. Vivian kept rubbing circles on my back while Althea held a pan nearby for when I got sick. I had had so many conversations with my friends in an effort to lessen the embarrassment of giving birth. All kinds of things were coming out of my body but they didn't once wrinkle their nose in disgust. They pitied me, sure, but I'd take that over disgust.

A cold presence came uncomfortably too close.

I opened my eyes to see a figure slipping past the boulder. I growled and pushed myself to my knees. The others turned and immediately stepped in front of me, blocking my view. I didn't have to wait long to see him.

I heard the horrible, sickening sound of flesh being stabbed and blood spattering on stone. I didn't hear my own screams as Vilcin's body fell into the wall. They rolled awkwardly to the ground and remained there, lifeless. Vivian slid beside them, desperately trying to roll them over and stop the bleeding. It was useless, though, as I felt Vilcin's spirit unraveling from their body.

Althea still stood in front of me. Her eyes jumped between her friend and the man who had murdered them. She withdrew a knife from her sleeve and took a step back to stand closer to me.

"Who are you?" she demanded, ears pinned back and canines on full display. Tears streamed down her face.

"Don't recognize The Butcher?" the man's voice echoed off the cave walls. I leaned around Althea's foot to observe him. He was wearing a bright white uniform with gold trimming. His skin was an ash grey and made his red eyes glow brighter. His long, wavy brown hair matched his short facial hair.

"I know who you are," I rasped. Althea shifted to reveal more of my disheveled state. My claws dug into the carpet, barely containing my anger. "You're Vox's champion." I vaguely remembered Vox mentioning his champion had suddenly disappeared. Well, I found him.

"I thought a ring fighter might recognize me." He planted his hands on his hips.

"Ex-fighter," I corrected after another contraction. "You have sixty seconds to tell me what you want?"

"Or else?"

"Or else I'm repaying the favor. Vilcin would love to see me rip out your—" Another contraction cut me off. I pressed my cheek into the carpet to keep him in my sights. Can this baby just hurry up?

"How close is she to giving birth?" the man asked Althea.

"I'm ready to take your life in exchange for Vilcin's," the healer hissed, pointing the knife directly at his chest. He still stood at the end of the tunnel, hands behind his back. His bloodied weapon must be in his hands. He was a hit and run type of fighter.

"The real name is John." The man bowed briefly. "And I'm here to murder your child."

Everyone snarled at him. Vivian abandoned our friend's body to stand beside Althea, shielding me. I could feel Vilcin's soul swim around my body before melting with my mind. I separated them from the other souls in a special, safe place. The grief lessened—however slightly—now that I had their soul safe in my own hands.

I pushed myself to my feet, teeth bared. My magic remained locked away on orders from Althea. I couldn't risk anything with the birth so magic was strictly forbidden during the process. Now, I may need to risk it.

"I've killed so many souls, but you know," John took a few steps in, "none of them will ever be as satisfying as this. I kill a new soul, the Dragon Demon, and the Radio Demon. All of Heaven's problems will be solved by none other than me. A single hand."

"Why work for Heaven?" Vivian demanded. Her lamb hooves tapped on the stone floor as she frequently shifted her weight.

"You're an Angel," I answered for him. I knew an Angel's 'soul' when I saw it. He gave an ugly smile.

"Heaven isn't what people think and down here it's so much better." The way he said it, the tone I managed to pick up, made it sound sad; almost tragic.

"So why work for them?" Vivian asked again.

The conversation was giving me enough time to rack my memory of my research. When I first learned about Vox's champion, I naturally tried to do my own research on the fighter. It had yielded almost nothing. He appeared one day and has been through various fights for years. His style of fighting was a hit, retreat, hit, retreat type. It was the most annoying one I ever had to fight.

"They tried to quite literally erase one of their own and now they're asking for my help. I have all of Heaven on their knees begging me to kill you."

"You're talking too much." The voice came from John but it wasn't his—it was much deeper and more raspy, as if it was painful to speak.

"My apologies, I know I can go on, sometimes." John's normal voice came back. Althea and Vivian exchanged looks.

Then he moved.

Vivian slammed her fist over his arm but his other one came from behind his back. He stabbed a knife in her hip and she screamed. The force threw her legs out from underneath and landed her hard on her shoulder.

He turned for Althea. Her hand grazed his shoulder and he let out an ear piercing yell. He dropped to his knees half a second before scrambling away. Althea took the retreat to heal Vivian. She shoved one of the wood biters into her mouth before withdrawing the knife and starting the process. Vivian and I screamed together from different pains.

Blood. Tears. Screams. Cries. Death.

John looked at his shoulder, shocked to see a lack of blood staining his white uniform. His appearance briefly changed in the blink of an eye. I saw shorter hair and a more disheveled version of John. Then he was back. Something wasn't right here. It was like a mirage of some kind, never fully here but never truly gone.

"Nice trick," John said after our screams had abated. He put his hurt arm up and slammed his weight into the wall. He was trying to pop his shoulder back in place.

"Don't bother," Althea laughed. She helped Vivian back to their original positions in front of me. The teacher looked worn but angry. "Your muscles are torn and you won't be holding anything any time soon."

Testing her words, he found himself unable to move his fingers. I reached under Vivian's feet to grab his lost, bloodied knife.

A little magic couldn't hurt right?

"I've had worse injuries, sweetheart." The term came from his opposite voice.

"What's wrong with you?" Althea's disgusted tone made me feel embarrassed for him.

"A little bloody thirsty," he replied. "Surely you can relate to that, Demi-Demon."

I threw my hand out and watched the knife hit his knee with magic-preciseness. The sound and his scream made me grimace. Even Vivian and Althea turned their heads. Alastor was no longer the only person on Heaven's radar. And my ethnicity wasn't a secret. Heaven was trying to prevent a child being born from an Overlord Demon and a half Angel.

Blinding white pain struck my chest. I fell under a breath holding spell as the pain spread to my lungs and into my shoulders. I couldn't see anything. There was only the empty whiteness and horrible pain.

Air was forced into my lungs. It felt like it traveled through my head and nearly caused my head to explode. I breathed the air out then sucked in my own. My heaves were half whines as I grasped my chest. Althea was talking but I couldn't understand her.

The pain was gradually fading away. Tears fell down my cheeks and I pressed my face into Althea's sleeve. Vivian rubbed my back with reassuring phrases. I sobbed for a reason I couldn't understand.

It wasn't until a contraction stopped my crying that I was able to read what had not happened.

"He's hurt." I grabbed Vivian's arm. "He's...he got hurt really bad."

"But he's alive," she told me. "Otherwise you'd be dead."

I let go of her and leaned on the carpet again. She was right. Alastor and I shared the same fate. He was alive. But for how long? He needed to come back so either I or Althea could heal him.

But what about the threat? If they nearly killed him, would they come looking for me? Did they know where I was? How much longer did I have? Could Alastor even defend me if they found me?

I yelled from another contraction. Breathing suddenly became very very difficult.

"Lift her up, now!" Althea snapped. Both women grabbed my arms and hoisted me to my feet. I started to scream again. This was all too much. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

"You gotta push, come on. Get it done." Althea was trying hard to encourage me. I wanted Alastor. I wanted him here. Why could nothing ever go right? My eyes peered open to make sure John was still cradling his injured knee.

"I've got him. You focus on the baby," Vivian said in my ear. They were holding half, if not most, of my weight. Tears streamed down my face.

"That mark." His other voice.

I opened my eyes again. This time John looked completely different. His hair was cut back really short, like the kind our guards used, and his white uniform was ruffled and dirty. His eyes were black with red pupils, the complete opposite of John's.

"Shut up!" John slammed his head against the wall and the old appearance returned. I couldn't risk magic again but something felt strange here. Alcine suddenly appeared behind him and covered both feet with a near pitch-black shadow. She was trying to keep him anchored to that spot.

I screamed again. I feared I would break my friends' hands as I pushed through the pain. Their encouragement grew and I took that as a sign. I couldn't feel anything down there anymore and just kept pushing and screaming. Almost there. Almost done.

"You're..." the other voice. I spared a fleeting glance at the man's second appearance. It looked as if a shadowy curtain had been placed. I wasn't using magic but Alcine had conjured a wall for privacy. She must work like Alastor's shadow. It felt better with the curtain up.

My wings sprouted and jammed into the rock wall. My screams melded into an animalistic howl. I heard splashing sounds a moment before the heavy pain disappeared nearly all the way. A high pitched cry reached my ears.

"You did it! You did it." Althea lifted the newborn so I could see. The thing was all curled up and stretching its limbs out. Its toothless mouth hung wide open to air out its cries. "It's a baby girl."

My sweaty face couldn't stop the smile. She was still attached to me via the umbilical cord and a velvet color soul string.

A contraction pulsed through my body.

"Althea?" My voice shook.

"Hold on." She finished detaching the girl and wrapped her in a nearby blanket. She gave the newborn to Vivian then took her place beside me. Vivian stood with her back to the wall but in front of me so I could still see my newborn and she could watch the enemy. I used the wall as her replacement.

"What's happening?" I was sobbing at this point.

"You're having another."

"Another!?"

"One more time."

"I want to be done!" I cried. My girl—my girl—was crying in Vivian's arm. Wasn't one enough? How did we not know I had twins?

"You can do it. One last time then you're done."

Alastor! I cried, knowing that he couldn't hear me. We were keeping each other out for a reason. I wanted him here. I wanted his support and for him to see our daughter. I wanted to know if he was okay.

"Push!" Althea yelled right in my ear. I snarled at her to shut up and felt the same pressure moving down my stomach. I felt the baby slip out right as Althea bent down to catch it. More stuff plopped into the water as Althea stood. The baby in her arms was silent.

"What's wrong with it?" The lack of pain was replaced with the horror of a silent baby.

Althea grabbed a towel and wiped its face and ears. It had short, small, flexible little ears on the side of its head. It's nose was a little flat and its body was more than half the size of its sister.

"What's wrong with it?"

Althea flipped the baby over and started rubbing its back. She made small, quick circles over the slickness still covering its skin. Its sister continued to cry in Vivian's arm, her other hand covering her mouth as she looked at the still body.

Fix it. Fix it. Please fix it.

My legs were shaking. I wanted nothing more than to sit down and enjoy my rest. But why wasn't the baby crying? Did I do something wrong? Was it because I used magic?

Magic.

I opened my senses just enough to sense everyone's soul and energy in this cave. The stillborn's soul was faint and stretched out between me and its body. I was careful as I gently ran my fingers along the thread that connected our souls. It felt like I was pulling little strings of hair from my body and watching them float into its little form.

My love.

My head snapped up as Alastor finally connected our minds. I felt the pain in his chest and the bruise in his ego. Most of all, I felt worry. He was on his way back.

"Alastor's coming." I felt dread as soon as I said that. What would happen if he saw the baby lifeless? I couldn't let him see that. I needed to show him two healthy babies and if not, at least a single healthy one like we had been expecting.

"Shit." John dragged himself to the edge of the cave but Alcine had his legs rooted to the stone floor. His knee was still sporting the knife...and it was sticking halfway through the bone.

"You're paying for Vilcin," Vivian said through the curtain.

"Take it easy," Althea told me. The energy had gotten muddled and the strings looked like a knotted mess. I silently cursed myself and leaned all my weight into the wall. Althea helped me kneel in the dirty water so I could rest my upper half on the carpet.

I needed to start the process over. I pulled all the strings back, mushed them together with my energy, then strung them out and slowly sent them to the frozen baby. More tears fell down my cheeks from the sight of it.

Please don't do this to me. After everything? Please move. Please cry.

"Who are you?" Alastor's voice was a blessing and a curse. I dared a glance down the cave to see him towering over a very terrified John. Eyes wide, mouth agape, and hands up in surrender.

"Don't kill him. He has information," I said from behind the curtain. Vivian protested but was quickly silenced when Alastor glanced over his shoulder to take in the state of the cave. His shadow took over for Alcine and the man disappeared.

"Don't come yet!"

Alastor stopped a breath from the curtain. "Why?"

"Because...because I said so. Just...give me a minute."

I should've known he wouldn't listen. He passed through the curtain and it fell away. His eyes found the baby girl in Vivian's arms and the still one in Althea's. Then he looked at me. I could feel excitement, disappointment, and concern all at once.

"What's happening?"

"N-nothing—"

"Shh, let her focus." Althea brought everyone's attention back to the baby. I kept Alastor out of my peripherals as I went on, trying desperately to match the amount of lines to the firstborn's but by half. My hands were shaking as I did the motion. I could feel its body warming up the more soul that reached it. I noticed a small, faint line connecting it with its sister. I wasn't sure what that meant but I let it be.

I touched its smooth, tiny body and carefully—slowly—transferred a small amount of energy through its fingertips. It sucked in air, limbs seizing, then breathed it out through several coughs. Once it stopped coughing, it started to cry.

I let out a sob and dropped my forehead on the carpet. I grabbed at the material and let out an ugly kind of sob. Alastor's hand rested gently on the back of my head as he kneeled beside me. I turned my head to the side and he placed a kiss on my sweat and tear streaked cheek. "You are so talented my love." I noticed he had abandoned his coat and was in a tight, black long sleeve and his usual slacks. Had he purposefully changed for me?

"We need to lay you on your back," Althea gently instructed. "A couple more things then you can rest."

I groaned obnoxiously, earning a chuckle from Alastor. He didn't understand what I had just been through. But I let him pull me out of the water and lay me on my back. Althea positioned my feet on either side so my legs were spread wide.

She handed me the small newborn wrapped in a blanket then Vivian did the same with the firstborn. She messed with the fabric and asked Alastor to remove my shirt. My children's fronts were now touching my chest. I took a deep, soothing breath from the skin to skin contact. I could feel their tiny heartbeats. These were my babies. I had done it.

Completely bare before my friends and my lover—and bringing Vilcin's soul to the front of my mind—I now had to finish the last steps of childbirth. I had to push out the placenta (which I had no idea I needed to do) then I had to let Althea massage everything. The pain wasn't as bad as childbirth but it was pain nonetheless.

I couldn't stop sobbing for so many reasons.

Alastor had positioned himself behind me and let my head fall in his lap. His smile was close-lipped save for a tooth or two poking out. His red eyes were addicting and the way his hair fell around his face made me want to kiss him. He was overly careful as he used his claws to pull away stray hairs from my sweaty face.

I noticed he was sitting more rigid than usual.

Are you okay? I asked.

Why wouldn't I be?

You got hurt.

It's not a bad injury.

I felt it, I said punctually.

I'm sorry I wasn't here.

Say it again.

Say what? His head tilted sideways. Gosh I loved it when he did that.

Say you're sorry. I never hear you say that.

He rolled his eyes then carefully extended a hand to our girls. He eyed me carefully, as if afraid that I would bite off his arm. To be fair, the urge to do so was currently being shoved down. I kept wincing and crying as Althea continued. I just wanted to be done.

Twin girls? he asked. He used the pads of his fingers to rub their foreheads. There was such an obvious size difference between them. Would the smaller one have troubles later on?

I wasn't expecting twins. Are you happy?

Of course I am.

No. Are you happy with girls?

His eyes returned to me. Yes, my dear. I am very happy we have girls.

Whatever Althea did hurt really bad. I stifled a loud yell and bit my lip. Alastor wiped the tears that constantly fell down the sides of my face. This needed to be over and done.

"I'm so proud of you."

My eyes snapped open. Then looked at him. "W...what?"

"I'm proud of you, my love. Not just for giving birth, but for everything you've done."

I'm not sure why but that sent me over the edge. I started to sob and had nothing to shield or wipe my face. My hands remained fastened to my babies as I cried with them.

My love, what's the matter? He said it in a way that told me he knew why I was crying. He continued to wipe away the tears as I cried from making Alastor—the most important person in my life—proud of me. For the first time ever, I had made him proud and I believed it.

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Author's Note:

This was one of the chapters I rewrote so let me know your thoughts!

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Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @martinys-world @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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clubdionysus · 9 months ago

Text

[THE FIRST BAD DECISION] Prologue

warnings: alcohol, partying, kissing strangers

wc: 2.4k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

Jeon Jeongguk looks devastatingly pretty with cherry-red lips. Smudged and a little faded, they leave the faintest mark on the end of his cigarette—a bad habit, he knows, but one that he picked up as an excuse to flirt with a girl whose lips are far more crimson than his.

Of course they are, though. How else would she stain him in evidence of her existence if they weren't?

Even when he's tarnished in her, there's no evidence of him on her. Nothing to tell new acquaintances to stay away—and Hayun loves making new friends.

A bottle of Jack rests by his feet. Neat. A little lukewarm. Ass perched on the curb outside a house just off campus, he's in no mood to get himself embroiled in the debauchery he knows his friends are partaking in. Just wants to clear his head.

Foolishly hopes she'll do the same. That she'll notice his absence. That her heart will ache like his currently is.

In their final year of studies, his friends are all letting loose for the final time before they have to cram for finals. It's a night of celebration. Of last-chances. Of opportunities that won't present themselves again for a good few lunar orbits.

And so while he may not have the same restrictions, having started his studies a little later than scheduled, he's been making the most of it with them.

Quiet kisses hidden from his friends are fun. He likes them. Loves them, even.

But to then watch her very publicly let a guy make moves on her? To make moves back?

Feels fuckin' awful.

"Oh, you know what?" A voice echoes from the porch of the house behind him. "You can take her violin and shove it up your ass, you ostentatious, pseudo-intellectual prick."

It's a little twisted, but it brings Jeongguk comfort to know he isn't the only one with a shitty excuse for a love life. Knows he shouldn't listen in—but fuck it.

"Where does she keep her violin, huh? In your trousers? 'Cause that's the only way that what I just saw and what you're saying could even possibly correlate," the girl continues, unrelenting in the way she dictates her speech. Barely lets her partner get a word in edge-ways. "No? She not a tiny violin specialist? The rooms aren't that dark, dickhead."

He thinks the tirade is over, but finds himself laughing when he hears, "And not to brag, but my last eye exam went exceptionally well, so don't you dare try and tell me I was seeing shit. Twenty-twenty vision, baby."

It's easy to tell whoever is speaking is deliberating adding a little dramatic flare to their words. Is definitely drunk. Is also definitely not afraid of standing her ground.

Glancing over his shoulder as he stubs out his cigarette, he's surprised to see the girl—you—on the phone instead of confronting someone in person.

In a pretty little party dress, you're just the right combination of hot mess. Even from a fair distance away, he can notice the glitter all over your skin. Not really his type—so different from Hayun—but there's something about you. Something that intrigues him. Makes it hard to look away.

"She could be fuckin' Vivaldi for all I care!" You seethe into your phone. "Does it sound like I give a shit if she's the best in her class? You want me to give her a gold medal or something? Don't piss me off. Prick."

Jeongguk would argue that you're already pissed off. With a tone of voice like that, you must be.

There's a final curse, and then your phone is almost thrown across the front lawn. Almost. You know better. Know that you can't afford to replace the screen if you shatter it. Instead, you have to grit your teeth and scream.

It's only once you finish your venting of frustration that you notice a pair of starry eyes on you.

Raising your brows, you shake your head in his direction. "Can I help?"

And then he fucking laughs. Shrugs. Is pleased to see it makes you smile, too.

"Really hate violin, don't you?"

Shaking your head, far kinder this time, you sigh. "Don't have much of an opinion on them. Not unless it's the strings in the intro of Untouched by The Veronicas. In that case, the violin is the greatest instrument known to man."

"Untouched? The Veronicas?" he laughs, suddenly reminded of a song he hasn't heard in years. "Didn't realise it was still 2005."

"Hey, don't be judgy," you say as you walk towards him, perching down on the curbside, too. "It's a classic."

"Never said it wasn't," he defends, reaching down for his bottle of Jack and offering it over to you. "Boyfriend trouble?"

Shaking your head, you decide that unloading your problems onto a stranger is exactly what this night calls for.

"Girl I've been seeing. Wasn't that serious." Nodding towards the bottle you add, "You first."

"Seemed pretty serious," he mumbles, before swigging down his whiskey. Jack is shit, in his opinion, but it's cheap and it gets the job done. Clearing his throat with a small 'ah', he holds it back over for you to take. "Satisfied?"

You don't vocalise a response—but you do take the bottle from him and ignore the burn as it races down your throat. Of everything you'd choose to drink, Jack Daniels would not be it. You like fruity things. Had been on vodka cranberry juice all night.

"Wasn't serious," you double down, then shrug. "Can't let people think they can get away with bad behaviour, though. Let them do it once, and they'll do it again and again."

It's something you're adamant about. Something you'll do well to remember.

"Anyway, you know why I'm out here like a miserable bitch," you continue as you pass the bottle back. "What brings you here?"

"Something similar."

It's only now that you really take him in for all that he is.

Same age as you, you think, judging by his build. Though his shoulders are broad, he hasn't properly filled out yet—he's trying, though. You can see the definition in his arms. His shoulders. Clearly is trying to shape himself into a man. No longer a teenager, but not really an adult. With eyes like that, though, he'll always look a little younger than he is. His dark hair waves around his features, so casually undone you know he must have put a lot of effort into it. It's sweet.

He tries, and that's more than can be said for most of the boys at the party.

"It doesn't suit you," you tell him.

"Hm?"

"The red lipstick," you nod towards the sheen on his lips. There's a little on his neck, too. His T-shirt is black, but you imagine there's some there, as well. "You'd look better without it."

"It's not mine."

"Guessed as much," you softly smile. "So what, then? Your girlie pissed all over her territory? So no one else would approach you? Then decided she wanted to play elsewhere?"

"Something like that."

"Girlfriend?"

Jeongguk just shrugs. Tells the truth, even if it feels like a lie. "Just friends."

"You kiss all your friends?"

"Just one."

"Ouch," you wince. Friends-with-benefits situations are dumb, you think. Wouldn't ever wanna end up in one. Know they end in unbearable heartbreak. "That's rough."

He nods. Knows how it'll end, too, even if he's been trying to tell himself otherwise.

"Well, we're friends, now," you declare, definitely too drunk to be making good decisions. "You and me. Have bonded over terrible people doing terrible things."

He wants to tell you that Hayun isn't terrible.

Instead, he raises a brow at your fledgling—and fleeting—friendship.

"If she's off making new friends, then maybe you should consider kissing your other friends," you playfully shrug, knowing better than to get involved in a situation like this. "Y'know... make it even."

And Jeongguk is well aware he shouldn't indulge in your flirt, but he's hurting. Wants to feel wanted—and the way you're looking at him? He can't remember the last time Hayun looked at him like that.

The way you see it, you'll never see this man again. You could both do with a little pick-me-up. Confirmation that life goes on, even if the people you date are awful.

A kiss is just a kiss.

Or at least, for now, it is. One day, you'll develop a complex. Blame Seokjin.

But you're yet to meet him. Yet to unlearn all your rules and make far feebler, more pathetic ones in their place.

"Y'know, you're kinda cute," you whisper, edging closer ever so slightly.

"Kinda?" He tweaks a brow, eyes not on yours, but on your lips. There's a little glitter in your gloss. Think maybe it'll suit him better.

"Mhmm," you hum, reaching up to lightly trace your thumb across his bottom lip, ridding him of a little bit of his very own red flag. "Kinda. Never kissed a guy with a lip piercing."

Just a stud, he's only had it a little while. Was trying to make himself look a little older. Sharper. Light from the house catches in it as your thumb pulls back - but Jeongguk pulls closer. Nudges his nose against yours. Holds it there for a second.

"Maybe I should take one for the team," he husks, lips brushing yours. "Just so you know what it's like."

Nodding, you let your nose stroke against his. "You'd be such a good friend if you did."

Lips parted, the end of your sentence grants him permission to sink his lips between yours. Slow as he does so, Jeongguk's scared of fucking it up.

Hasn't kissed anyone that isn't Hayun for months, now. Isn't even sure he knows how to.

And yet as soon as you press down into the kiss, his mind is void of her. Totally blank. Pitch black, until the faintest of stars begin to appear. Sparkle. Shine.

There's a sweetness to you, even despite the whiskey. Maybe it's the cranberry juice. Maybe it's your lip gloss. Jeongguk doesn't have the mental capacity to decipher it, for he can feel your tongue stroking across his bottom lip—and then he's granting permission. Inviting you into his mouth. Stroking his tongue against yours, as if he's in the privacy of the party bathroom—not out front for everyone to see.

Shamelessly, he almost wants Hayun to see—but as quickly as a thought of her intrudes, it's replaced by the way you feel. It makes him pull you closer. Gets him whining into your mouth. Makes you smile.

It's confirmation that there's nothing wrong with you; that the girl you were seeing really was just a dickhead.

Pressing your hand to his chest, you slowly push him away. Are reluctant to finish kissing him. In fact, even as you push him back, your body follows, until you force yourself to pull back.

"There," you smile, a little infatuated with how sparkly his eyes appear. "Now you're even."

"We can make it odd, again, if you want," Jeongguk offers, far bolder than even he realises. Just doesn't wanna stop kissing you. Maybe it's just the whiskey. Yeah. He'll blame it on that.

"That's a bad decision waiting to happen," you laugh, getting to your feet, because you don't trust yourself to stay. "My purpose is served. Friends don't fuck you over. Stop wasting your kisses on people who are gonna fuck you over."

Your message is clear: she's not your friend.

It's a lesson he'll learn far too late in life.

"But you're ditching me?" He says as you begin to walk away. "That's not friendly!"

For a girl who should really be wallowing in self-pity, you're surprisingly chirpy. Jeongguk envies it. Wishes he could stop caring in the way that he does —he just doesn't realise your situationship really was as simple as they're supposed to be. The feelings were yet to fully develop.

If love is a choice—which you think, to a degree, it is—then before it can develop, choices have to be made. Your partner is supposed to choose you. The girl you'd been seeing has just demonstrated that she wouldn't choose you, and so why should you choose her?

Life is simpler before Seokjin; before you really know what it is to love.

Or, to love, and to not be chosen.

To choose, even when you're never chosen.

Sort of like how Jeongguk is, now.

"I'm doing you a favour!" You call back, tipsy smile just as radiant as you seem to be. You're jovial in your tone, and the attitude rubs off on him. Gets him smiling, too. "Saving you from yourself. If I kiss you again, you'll fall in love, baby. They always do!"

The way you jet off is spritely. Happy. Abundantly clear that you're yet to know what heartbreak really feels like.

The girl getting a little too friendly with the star violinist will be long forgotten by the time you meet Jeongguk once again, and so will he. In fact, the scar left by Seokjin manages to mangle just about all of your romantic memories prior to him.

You'll become folklore; a girl Jeongguk doesn't know the name of, but who Hayun is pretty sure is legally named 'Desperate Skank'. Someone they argue about on a few too many occasions. A memory he barely remembers, but in the heat of their drunken fight later that evening became a permanent sticking spot in their situationship.

'Cause while Hayun was off making friends, that's all she was doing. Getting numbers. Getting a little touchy-feely. Getting her ego stroked. Getting zero kisses, because she had been reserving them for him.

Why she was only making friends with six-foot-something muscle pigs with more protein powder in their system than common sense is another thing they'll argue about—but he's the one in the wrong this time, or so she makes sure to tell him.

He'll think of you sometimes. The memory will be hazy. Blurry, like driving down a midnight highway with astigmatism.

He'll think of you, and he'll see stars.

And when he sees you again in the dark of Dionysus a few years later, with no recollection of who you are, his brain will scream at him. Beg him to remember.

He won't.

But he will, inevitably, see stars once more.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

#by holly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk #jungkook x reader #jeongguk fanfic #bangtan #jungkook fluff #bartender!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #jeongguk fic #bad decisions #dappleddaisies

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the-real-treasure · 7 months ago

Text

Treasure Treasure!

An OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Previous Chapter: Shipwrecks and Hopeless Dreams

Chapter Two: Straw Hats and Treasure Maps

Summary: There's a boy looking for a map, and his dream echoes through you like his ringing laughter. His orange haired thief and green haired swordsman look less then infused.

Trigger Warnings: Threats and descriptions of violence, swearing, torture, threatening language and behaviour, Reader's Devil Fruit power is overwhelming and overstimulating, blood, Reader becomes animalistic and violent Word Count: 7,042 **Edited 12/09/24**

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The music and the sounds of the bar around you rattled through your brain. The dull light cascading through the smoke addled air along with the pungent tang of beer made you grit your teeth hard enough to grind fine powder, and the man across from you drawled with such a lack of enthusiasm he may as well have been dead. Your canines, unnaturally sharp in your mouth, nicked the inside of your lips and the metallic taste filled your mouth.

"I tolds your boss, I wouldn't be negotiating no more when yous got here. I said 700 berry per lot, he said no, I said yes, I gots no response so that means yes. Now it's 700 per lot or you don't get nufink."

(Anotherbeerplease)(Letmetryletmetry!)

You want to rip your face off. You instead drop your head into your hands and started to knead at your scalp with your fingertips. The scratch of the clean dry bandages on your face was a soothing balm to pounding of your skull as everything around wished for something else.

"You got your response. It just so happened, I'm the one delivering it, not the mail coo. If you would take the damn letter you could read it yourself, and take the order while you're at it."

(Mostfamousmarine,that'llbeme)(Moneymoneymoneymoney)(Prettyladyatthebarwon'tyoulookatmeagain)(Moneymoneymoney)

You whack your hand down to the letter resting on the table and once again, push it over to his side, nudging it against his pint of lukewarm beer and cooling curry buns. Reeling back away from the table, you let your back arch over the back of the chair, face up towards the ceiling, listening to his scuffs and snuffles as he finally, finally rips open and reads Zeff's letter.

Why does he always send me?

You lean back further.

I am no negotiator.

Further still.

Maybe because he wants me to stop hovering at the kitchens. Says Sanji doesn't need me watching him like a hawk.

Further. Skin scraps over paper as the letter is flipped.

Could be right. Could be wrong. I made the promise, he doesn't know that.

You pushed away from the table fully, stretching your back out as far as possible, the tips of your toes just barely grazing the floor beneath you still. The very top of your head awkwardly grazes a red clothed back of the person sat behind you, straw hat perched on a nest of curly dark hair, head buried in a bowl. The dream, the wish, hits you so hard it's like a lightning strike, pure intense white hot energy coursing through you, sending you toppling fully into the boy in a shock.

(I WILL SAIL TO THE GRAND LINE)

(Your head throbs as energy cascades through you, the line ringing the centre of the world screaming with power and energy)

(I WILL FIND THE ONE PIECE)

(Something, something, pulses through the world's energy, a ringing echo cascading through mountains and islands and beasts and boats as something on the Grand Line wakes up)

(AND I WILL BECOME)

(Oh)

(KING OF THE PIRATES)

(Oh.)

You land on the floor with a thump. The boy flailed in his chair, knocking a plate over his pink-haired friend as he whirled around to look at you. You lay on the floor, eyes wide and arm outstretched and pointing to the south, heartbeat echoing in your ears.

He stared at you. You stared back. The liquor merchant sat across the table from you quietly dropped the letter on the table and shuffled out of his seat to the door.

"How do you plan on finding the One Piece?"

You sounded breathless even to your own ears, voice barely even a whisper, and as your blood finally started to move again, you watched his and his companions eyes widen.

"How do you know that?!" The frantic whisper poured out of the pinkette as he began to shake in his seat.

"I heard it." The straw hat boy cocked his head like a pup.

"Where?"

"In you." His eyebrows furrowed and he offered you his hand to help you up. You take it. "I ate the Treasure Treasure fruit. If someone has a dream, a really true wish I can hear it and guide them to it." You grimaced and rolled your shoulders in an awkward shrug, "In a roundabout sort of way."

His eyes gleamed as a smile erupted over his face. He hadn't released your arm and started pumping it up and down enthusiastically and talking quickly and what you assumed was quietly for him.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy!" He gestures behind him, "This is Koby! We're going to steal a map of the Grand Line, get a ship and find the One Piece!" He released your arm and pointed a finger directly into your face. "JOIN MY CREW!"

You blink. The sounds of the bar around you dull as you roll the offer around in your head.

"No." His face falls. "Well," It brightens again immediately, "No." It falls again. "I, uh-I have important people, that I need to stay with." A beat. "I owe them a lot, I can't just leave them."

"They can't come with us?"

The pink haired boy waffled for a second and you blinked.

"N-no, he, they'd never leave the restaurant. Now, excuse me, I have to do my job here...?" You eye him as he shuffles the chair back in place.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Your people, who are they, what do they do?"

"A cook, he's a chef!" You smile, but grab it in between your teeth to gnaw on your lip for a second. "He's the best in the East Blue. He has a dream and I'm gonna help him find it one day. I can't leave him to join some pirate crew. Not forever." You looked back up, eyes meeting Luffy's and you pause. His beaming grin had diminished, shrinking into a softer more thoughtful smile, crooked at the edge.

"Ok, you sit, we eat, we steal the map, we go get your friend and we set sail to find the One Piece." He nodded in decisiveness.

"That's-? What? No, I said no!" He pulls you to the table to sit with them.

"Come on, sit!" You fumble for a minute, he had completely dismissed your argument, but your heart and head thrummed with his energy and your feet wouldn't carry you away.

You sit.

The lady, the owner of the bar sets another plate down at your hand and you pull it away sheepishly.

"W-we already have our food.." Koby mumbles and Luffy shakes his head, lowering the plate he was licking clean.

"No, more is better, more is better, and our new friend hasn't eaten!"

"Y/n."

"Hah?"

"My name, it's Nakayoshi Y/n."

"Ah." Again, the smile stretches across his face. "It's good to meet you! Eat, you gotta feed the brain!" He leant forward and took one of the rice balls of the plate and looked down at the table contemplatively. "I can't get inside the base through the gate, but maybe... maybe... maybe what if I get inside flying? I can grab on to a bird or something."

Oh no.

"That's a terrible idea."

Koby looked around nervously at the marines at the surrounding tables. "Keep your voice down."

Hearing a thunk, you look over Luffy's shoulder to the door as a green haired man with three swords walked in, pulling a bloody sack behind him. You keep eyes on him as he approaches the bar, leaning back in your chair to keep him in eyeline.

"A bottle for me and one for my friend." His voice is completely monotone. He sounds exhausted, or maybe bored. "He's had a rough day."

You smile as she leaves to bottles on countertop, her daughter rounding the corner away from him giggling. Your eyes trail her as she comes back around carrying a plate of oddly coloured rice balls.

"What's this?"

She smiles up at him. "Rice balls! For you."

"You made them yourself?"

"Mm-hmm!" She pushed the plate closer to him.

"What's the brown stuff?"

"Chocolate! Makes everything taste better." You cringe internally, but perhaps that was the 'growing up surrounded by hoity toity customers in a fancy floating restaurant'.

Her mother calls her away, but as she turns she collides fully with a tall lean man with long blonde hair, knocking the plate out of her hands and on to the floor.

"You stupid stupid girl!" He snarls, and mushes one of the rice balls under his shoe. You pulled yourself up straight and saw Luffy watching as well. You knew Helmeppo. Most everyone who deals through Shells Town knew the spoilt bratty son of the Marine's captain. Most everyone also dislikes Helmeppo, the boy leaving a sour taste in the mouths of basically all who make contact with him. "Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"Rika, apologise to our guest!" The little girl shrinks into herself and does so.

"I'm s-so sorry."

Helmeppo mumbles and mocks the girl's apology, lip quivering fakely. "Next time, I won't be so nice."

"You dropped my food." The green haired man stands from the bar and crouches down beside the spilled plate and smashed rice ball. He pulls a mangled morsel off the ground and eats it slowly. Your stomach twists for a moment, memories of eating far worse driving to the forefront of your mind. "Mm. Delicious." The little girl smiles at his compliment. He puts the remaining rice ball back on the plate and leaves it on the counter top between himself and Helmeppo. "Now you eat one. And apologise to the girl."

Helmeppo is laughing his dimwitted, open mouth laugh at the audacity of the situation. "Do you know who I am?" Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head as everyone's attention drops. No one wants to listen to his 'my father is important and that makes me important' schlick. The man's response has you whipping round to attention though.

"A shithead Marine with a bad haircut." Helmeppo snarls and pulls his sword from its scabbard as the man rests back on the bar counter. "I wouldn't do that."

"Oh come on, tough guy. Three swords?" He calls mockingly, cackling at his own humour. "I only need one."

"Okay. But its gonna hurt."

Helmeppo swings his sword down at the man's back, but he's easily blocked by the man's sheath. He pushes the sword back and knocks Helmeppo once in the side, pulling back and striking him across the face, all without drawing a blade. The hit easily knocks Helmeppo to the floor and he scrambles away whimpering. More Marines begin to circle as he easily knocks over a bar stool, kicking it into the legs of one and knocking him down as the other tries to advance on him. Using the Marine's own momentum, he sends him face first into the lip of the bar counter knocking him cold to the floor.

Koby had scrambled under the table you were all sitting at as the fight broke out, yourself and Luffy standing watching as the man launches a tankard into the gut of another oncoming Marine. Helmeppo attempts another strike from the side, but he dodges and sends him careening to the bar, lodging his sword in the wood. He disarms yet another Marine knocking him down and using another to block Helmeppo's third strike before kicking both in the gut and dropping them to the floor.

Jumping on to a table nearer the door, he drops two more with no effort. Stamping down on a sword, he leaps over the Marine's back and somersaults him over the bar. Luffy breathes out a "Wow" beside you.

"Good fighter."

"Yeah!"

Helmeppo whimpers pathetically as the man advances on him, yanking him off the ground and pushing him up against the bar.

"You shouldn't draw your blade unless you're prepared to use it." Sweat was already beading on the blonde's forehead.

"Don't kill me, please. My father will give you anything you want."

"Who's your father?" He really didn't know?

"Captain Morgan. He's in charge of the Marine base."

"Then he owes me money." He yanks Helmeppo up and leaves the bar, dragging the sack with him, leaving a thick layer of silence coating every person as the Marines begin to awkwardly lift themselves up and sort themselves out.

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Luffy and Koby lie side by side in the smaller sail boat you brought from the Baratie. You were only meant to place ingredient orders and confirmed the delivery periods, then head to final port of call but now you're sitting in the dark wondering when you'll arrive back if this loon is going to loop you into shenanigans without your say-so.

"I can't stop think about that fight." You weren't the only one laying awake thinking. The lights of Shells Town glowed behind you and the moon cast long shadows across the harbour water.

"That guy was amazing." Still Luffy's optimism persisted, a trait you were beginning to enjoy despite yourself. "And what's with the third sword?" You let out a snort.

"Yeah. Where does it even go?"

"Right?!"

"No!" Koby cut you both off. "He had to protect that little girl from the Marines, who were supposed to be protecting her." Your mouth drew into a thin line. You knew they were both younger than you, so you supposed this might be his first time meeting the reality of how the world worked sometimes. You don't blame him for his shell-shock, it must've been hard to consider.

"If there are good pirates and bad pirates, then... there are gonna be good Marines and bad Marines too." Luffy turned to smile at his friend. "You'll be one of the good ones."

"Maybe Alvida was right. I don't know anything about the world."

"But you were her prisoner."

"Yeah, but I knew who I was. Now I have no idea."

You stretched out and nudged the top of his head with your shoe, gently pulling his eyes away from the inky darkness of the sky.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve gone through, especially if you’ve under the command of that Iron Mace Alvida, the weirdo she it, but I do know people like her. Trust me, they don’t do much else but talk themselves up and not prove it when given the chance. It probably won’t mean much to you, but don't ever take someone's word as the only truth there is. Nothing out there is just black and white. Not Marines, not pirates. Not the sky or the sea or any of the people you’ll meet. You'll never know nothing about the world, same as you'll never know everything. Make some piece with that. People who think they know everything will try and take advantage of you for it, because they’re the worst. Don’t give them the chance.”

His lips wobbled in the darkness and Luffy began poking at his shoulder.

"Hey. Hey! I need to get into the base and find that map, and I could use some help." Koby sat up, looking appalled.

"You want me to help you steal from the Marines?"

"No." Luffy claps a hand on to his shoulder. "Of course not. How about you help me..." He looks up to you, perched at the sail rigging and you shrug, "Get the boat ready. You can handle that, right?"

"I guess so?" He looks round at you as well, wide eyed. "What are you gonna do?"

You follow Luffy's eyeline to the wall of the harbour, a small pipe empty out into the sea.

"I'm working on that."

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Lifting Luffy up on your shoulders, you let him push up the grate in the middle of the yard of the Marine base, wincing as it clatters while he climbs out. Following behind him, you spot the green-haired man tied to stake in the sun.

"Oh hey. You're that guy from the bar."

"Get lost."

"I am lost. I'm trying to get inside the base." You look around the confines of the courtyard.

"There are doors all over. We may just have to start looking, try to stay lowkey." Luffy spins to face you.

"Can't you just magic point me in the direction of the map?" Both you and the (still unnamed) man looked at him in confusion.

"Huh?" "What."

"With your compass, the-uh, the Treasure Treasure fruit?" You blink and look up to the sky, sighing.

"That doesn't, that's not how it works, it can't do steps, it's like, the main focus of your dream, and that's it. It's that way by the way."

"How far?"

"I have no idea." Luffy looks down, pouting.

"Oh. That sucks." He looks around him. "Hey," He approaches the tied up man, "I saw the way you fight. How did they even arrest you?"

"They didn't. I gave myself up." Luffy looked at him gobsmacked for a moment before turning to look around the courtyard again.

"Interesting choice. I'm sure you had your reasons." The bound man glared up at him.

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know that you protected that little girl from those Marines last night. You're a good guy." You could hear more than see the smile on his face as he spoke.

"I'm Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter."

"Well I'm Monkey D. Luffy and I will be the King of the Pirates." Zoro's eyes flicked over to where you stood, bemused and watching the pair.

"And who's that." Luffy looked back at you and gestured for you to introduce yourself. You sighed but obliged.

"I'm Nakayoshi Y/n. I kind of just got roped into this, so I'm helping him now and then going home."

"They're my crew!" Luffy chimed helpfully,

"I'm not."

"And I think you should join it as well." Zoro laughed to himself.

"What makes you think I'd wanna play pirates with you?"

"You're a great fighter!" Luffy's reply was immediate. "I'd say that together, we'd make a pretty good team."

"I kill your kind for a living. Pirate. Hunter."

"We heard you the first time."

"Yea, you keep saying that, but is that all that you are? Is that all you want? What do you think Y/n?" A smile grew across your face.

Maybe he isn't as silly as he seems. You walk leisurely across the yard and stop, crouching down to make eye contact with Zoro.

"I think," you said, leaning forward, "that I want to know..."

(A forest made up of tall thin trees, dappled sunlight and a sticky wet heat clinging to your skin)

"...Why you dream of becoming the greatest swordsman in the world?" His face whips up to glare at you, through the sweat and the sun.

(A bright eyed girl with a white-hilted sword standing in a leafy clearing)

His eyes slid shut and he turned his face away. "I made a promise to someone a long time ago..."

(A memorial ceremony. A shrine)

"...To become the worlds' greatest swordsman."

(A tall man in a long black coat, an ornate cross mounted on his back, with yellow eyes like ring targets)

"Impressive." Luffy was stood behind you, a grin on his face as he looked at your arm, raised and putted, again, to the south. He moved around you both to begin untying Zoro's arms. You rose from your crouch to help him.

"You can untie me, but I'm still not gonna join your crew."

"Okay." Luffy answered plainly.

"I mean it. I don't owe you anything."

Luffy shrugged his response. "I just think it's a waste of time for you to be hanging out here when there's something you want," he pushed his finger up beside Zoro's face, pointing it in the same direction you had gestured to earlier, "out there. Good luck on the sword thing!"

"Hey, can you close this thing behind us?" You and Luffy began to drop back down into the drain.

"Thanks!"

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"WOAHHH!"

"LUFFY!"

With a great smash, he tumbled through the grate, landing on and destroying a table directly below. You stuck your head through, peeking around for anyone who might have heard.

"You're awful at this whole sneaking around thing!"

"How was I supposed to know it wasn't safe to climb over?!" As you swung yourself down a tad more gracefully than him, he looked round and made eye contact with a girl in a Marine's uniform a few rows over. He ducked, pulling you with him and saw she had as well. Standing back up right, and nearly knocking you over, he hummed to himself and rounded the corner to find her, only for her to lift a staff and swing it around towards his head.

"Woah! Hey, hey, hey! No! Don't do that."

You both stared at him wide eyed as he tried to wave her staff down.

"I'm taking you both into custody for trespassing on a Marine base."

"I knew this was going too well." You began to remove your aqua coloured jacket, but Luffy raised a hand to stop you.

"Better take yourself into custody too, 'cause you're not a Marine."

"Am too." Oh she's definitely not.

"No, you're not. We heard everything. You stole that guy's uniform. And now you're looking for my map." You look at him incredulously over his shoulder.

"You heard that while falling through that grate in the ceiling?"

"Yes."

"Fair enough."

"Your map?"

"Yep! Our map to the Grand Line. Y/n can only point us so far, literally." You wrinkled your nose at him and knocked him on the top of the head with your fist. "AYE! It was a joke!"

"I'm still not part of your crew, remember?"

"It's my map, and I'm not leaving here without it." Luffy pushed passed her, heading for the stairs, you following closely behind.

"Suit yourself."

"Hey." She called after yous, but Luffy wasn't stopping, so you weren't either. "Hey! Get back here!"

Walking through a corridor decorated in blue and cream with shields and weapons across the walls, the orange haired girl finally caught up with the both of yous.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" She clung to both of your arms as you walked on.

"Looking for that Morgan guy's office."

"That's where the map is, so if you want it, that's where you need to be." You nodded along to Luffy's reasoning. You didn't notice, what with the girl clinging to your arm and your eyes on the windows, that Luffy had stopped and pushed open a random door. She pulled you back and pushed you both in through it.

All three of you attempted to peek out the small square window at the passing marines. Sneaking back out into the hall, you moved on.

"That's your plan?" She hissed at yous. "Just walk into Axe-Hand Morgan's office and ask him for the map?"

"We may have to fight him for it." Luffy walk sideways beside you. "Why do they call him Axe-Hand anyways?"

"Because-" She shushed you so aggressively you flinched away.

"You are going to get us all caught if you keep stomping around this place."

"He doesn't understand the meaning of stealth." You hushed to her, "Or subtlety."

"You're one to talk. Shush, we need a plan." Just as she finished speaking, you ran slap bang into the chest of the man himself.

Captain Morgan was tall (a trait he gifted his son), well built (one he did not) and generally intimidating demeanour. (Helmeppo wishes.) With the open tunic vest showing off his broad chest, his size alone would make most people hesitate to cross him. Add to that the metal lower jaw, the epithetical axe for a hand and the fact he was the marine to take down Captain Kuro of a Thousand Plans, and he was beyond a trifle terrifying. For you however, it was the cloying reek of

(famepowergloryfamepowerglory)

that turned your stomach, so overcome with his egotism that you nearly blacked out.

He glared down at all three of you, gaze shifting to the girl between and behind you, you and Luffy, whose quiet revelation of the name's meaning wasn't lost on you from your position beside him.

"C-Captain Morgan, sir, I was just escorting these prisoners to the brig." You squinted gently at her stutter. Big as he may be, between yourself and Luffy you were half sure he would be no problem to beat. "They were arrested for causing a disturbance in the square."

"Yeah, prisoners." The sigh that you caught in your throat was large at Luffy's addition. Once again, no subtlety.

"You're that one from Baratie. The dishwasher who does the orders. I better not have any of those cooks come and start something for putting you away for causing nonsense, you understand?" You give a quick nod as he leaned over the pair of you to peer down at Nami. "I've never seen you before." Her nerve held.

"I'm a transfer from the 77th, sir." He lifted her chin with his axe.

"What's your name, Private?"

"Nami, sir. I put in a request to serve under your command." Appealing to his ego, very clever. Morgan pulled away.

(FAMEpowerGLORY)

"Wise choice. I expect great things from you."

"Yeahhh. She's the best!" As Luffy whacks Nami's shoulder good naturedly, you grind your teeth and blow your breath out through your nose. You could pummel him. "I-I mean, she's the best of the worst. I hate Marines."

Morgan looked between yourself and Nami disbelievingly, and you hope the snarl on your face was convincingly directed at him and not your idiot idiot captain-to-be. He straightened and nodded to the orange haired girl. "Carry on."

He pushed down the centre of your trio, knocking you all out of the way as he passed. Luffy sighed with relief.

"That was amazing. Admit it, we do make a pretty good team!"

"We are not a team." Nami set off at a brisk pace, and you and Luffy followed.

"Whatever you say- Ah!" Moving past him, you gave him a firm whack on the back of the head. "Now all we have to do is figure out a way to get to Axe-Man's office." Nami pulled you all to a dead stop and took something from her pocket. You both stared at what was in her hand.

"Are those... his keys?"

"How'd you do that?!" He asked excitedly. Nami smiled at him shortly.

"I'm a thief."

"Ahhh. You know!" And off you set again, "You're really good at thieving... and a good talker too. You should think about joining my pirate crew."

In a flash, she had grabbed him and pushed him against a wall. You lunge forward and grab the shoulder of her uniform but stop as she does.

"Let's get one thing straight. I am never joining anything with you. I hate pirates. HATE them!" Luffy smiled after her as she stomps away down the corridor.

"That's because you don't know me yet!"

Finally reaching the giant wooden doors, Nami unlocked them and you all quietly pushed inside.

"This guy really likes himself." And that was an understatement. On both walls were giant, nearly floor to ceiling, portraits of the man and in the corner stood a giant statue depicting his likeness.

"I'm going to find the map. Pretend neither of you are here." Luffy answered as he spun about the room and you moved to look out the two large windows.

"But we are here."

"Why do you want the map so badly anyway?" He turned away from inspecting the paintings and came up behind her.

"I'm gonna use it to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates." She scoffed.

"Figures."

"What?"

"Every idiot dreams of finding the One Piece. People like you believe in something and you don't even know what it is." Luffy spun the telescope at the window round and looked through it.

"Well yeah! Don't you?" Turning to direct the telescope at her continued searching, he asked "So why did you decided to become a thief?"

"I didn't decide. I needed to eat. You do what you have to, to survive."

You hummed in agreement and advanced on to the desk with her. "You're right. Nothing more important than food." Luffy grinned at you as she sighed.

"Just find the map." Luffy moved away from the window and inspected the collection of axe-hand-attachments mounted on the wall behind the desk. Twisting and pulling one, a loud clunk sounded and the entire desk rolled to the side to reveal a safe encased in the floor. You hummed.

"Clever. I thought safes were normally hidden in walls."

Nami lay on the floor ear pressed to the safe as she tried to crack it when the alarm claxon started blaring.

"Uh... Do you think they know we're here?"

"No, I think they're after the other thief and two idiot pirates trying to steal a map."

Luffy sniggered. "What are the odds of that?" He stopped as Nami glared at him. "Kidding! But you might wanna work a little faster."

"And I'm not a pirate!"

"No," she agrees pointedly, "You're a dishwasher. Which is so much more helpful."

A loud banging started echoing from the door.

"OPEN UP!" Morgan roared from the other side. "BY THE AUTHORITY OF THE 153RD MARINES!"

Luffy dropped to the floor beside Nami. "You need to hurry!"

"I can't rush this!"

"Please hurry!" A crack sounded as Morgan struck the door with his axe. "I have an idea." Luffy took hold of both handles and began pulling straight up.

"That's your idea."

"Genius. Absolute genius." Your flat face said otherwise.

"Yeah." As he pulled he began to step back and his arms...

Began to stretch.

You and Nami stare in shock horror for a second before moving to wrap your arms around him, helping to pull.

The rivets wedging the safe to floor finally gave way and all three of you were launched out of the window, down into the courtyard below.

Dust blew up around you as you all rolled away from the safe and tried to stand.

"How-how did you do that?" She turned on you as she threw her Marine jacket off, "Did you know he could do that?"

You shook your head, eyes still swimming from the fall as Marines swarmed the yard.

You all three began to attack any Marine around you, Nami knocking them back forth and down with her staff as Luffy launched his body around like a high powered slingshot. You, as always went for the 'claw nails across face and kick in the chest' method and, if that didn't do the trick, you lunged your teeth into arms and wrists and shoulders as Marines tried desperately to throw you off, shrieking about the 'rabid manic' scratching or biting them. There was blood under your nails, blood staining your bandaged hands, blood in your mouth and blood dripping down the outside of your newest aqua jacket with the glorious gold three detailing you had received only a few months prior from the whole staff of Baratie for your birthday. If it didn't come out, this place would burn.

Glancing up, you watch the sprinting figure of Zoro running past the chaos in the yard towards the wide open front gates. With a snarl, you race after him.

Rocketing down the narrow archway after him, you fail to spot he had stopped just before leaving and end up barrelling straight on and into the street outside. Stumbling to a dead stop, every person turns to look at you.

You strike a menacing figure. Your brown work pants and darker brown boats are coated in dust and dotted with the blood dripping from your nails, your hair whipping around you wildly in the long ponytail, pulled back with a winding strip of gold fabric. Nails unusually sharp, but able to scale and gut a fish with no knife. The shirt and belt you wore were dark already anyway, so nothing but a layer of dust showed on them. It was the gleaming of light of the aqua jacket on to your blood splattered face that really caused pause. Your lips, dry and cracked at this point from heat, were stained wet and red, with smears across the coat dripping on to the ground below. But it was your eyes.

Misty pale eyes with gold specks for pupils, swirling rings of glowing aquamarine surrounding them as the energy of Shell Town’s wishes echoed through you, and one oh-so-familiar whistled past you.

You glare around as whispers started and the crowd closed ranks. And out of the throng stumbles…

(MoneyMoneyMoney)

Zeff’s fucking liquor merchant.

You lunge forward, fighting inside the Marine base forgotten as you grab a hold of the skulking man and lift him square off his feet.

”You coward. You don’t ever run off on the crew of Baratie, do you understand?!” He gave a quivering nod, sweat beading on his forehead. “Listen to me now, and you listen good.” You pull him close to your face, blood and spit flicking on to his face. “You will get five. Hundred. Berry. Per lot. And not a coin more. If I get back, and those shipments haven’t been delivered, I will come and I will find you. No matter where you run, no matter where you hide. I will find your miserable excuse for a salesman arse, and I will skin you alive, pulverise your body into mulch and feed you to every Mail Coo across the entire ocean so that your remains will be shit from here to the furthest reaches of the West Blue. Do I make myself clear to you little man?!”

His head had been nodding almost the entire time, only speeding up when you had finished. You dropped him back on his feet and turned back to the base. Zoro was still standing at the door.

”That was a bit intense.”

”Zeff always says, 'be thorough with merchants if they try to back out of deals.'" You give a rough, raspy imitation of his voice, "I would have done that in a quiet dark alley last night normally, but you know.” You gestured into the yard and he nods in understanding as you speak as one.

”Luffy.” You shrug helplessly.

”What can you do. Don’t think I'll get the chance to come back here for a bit if Mr Straw Hat intends to lug me about like he's been doing, so thought I’d at least get my job done before accidentally abandoning them for who knows how long.”

”You sound hopeful.”

”And you sound like someone ready to mess up some Marines. You coming, or are you gonna stand there like a sorry sack of shit with a dumb outfit and an even dumber look on your face?” And you start to walk back in.

”You’re wearing an aqua jacket with gold accents, you don’t get to judge outfits.” He follows anyway.

”No comment about the face though, interesting.”

“Sorry I was too busy being blinded by the awful tack wafting off you.”

”This was a birthday present from my family!” You sprint back in to rip a Marine off of Nami, but you hear him yell over the din of battle.

”I’m so sorry they hate you!” You snort. Nami spins round to you and jabs a Marine in the face over your shoulder.

”Have a nice chat?” She grunted twirling her staff and knocking one to the ground.

”Oh yeah!” You duck under her swing and claw at a mans chest as he sprints past, only for him to be knocked forward by an elasticated arm. “Just tying up some loose ends.”

”LESS TALKING, MORE FIGHTING PLEASE!” She screams over the yelling. And you do, taking down Marine after Marine until you stumble back into your group just as Nami asks “Aren’t you that drunk from the bar?”

”Glad I made an impression.”

Morgan walks forward into the yard, most of his men back away as their leader finally appears.

”The imposter, the pirate hunter, the dishwasher and the prisoner. Fancy that, the four of you working together.” You, Nami, Luffy and Zoro straighten and glare at the oncoming captain.

”Yeah!” Luffy calls. “We’re a crew.”

“I didn't mean to get roped into this.” “We're not together.” “Nope, not a crew.”

Luffy looks back at you all disappointed.

”No enemy has ever escaped my wrath. I alone defeated the Black Cat Pirates. I alone captured Kuro of the Thousand Plans. And I alone keep Shells Town safe from the scum of the East Blue.” You scoff as he pulls his waistcoat off revealing the dark blue no sleeve shirt underneath.

Dropping it in the dirt, he raises his fist and axe. Zoro and Nami twirl their staff and sword through the air, and you and Luffy crack your knuckles. You were ready.

Zoro strikes first as he and Morgan move towards each other. Metal twangs of metal as his blows are blocked by Morgan’s axe. As Luffy swung at him from behind, Morgan catches his fist and attempts to chop of his arm, Luffy pulling away just in time from each of his swings.

You move with Nami back to the unguarded safe, leaping from advancing Marine to advancing Marine, bounding across the court yard the air electrifies with want to

(WIN WIN WIN)

The Marines scatter once more as you and Nami finally slow your assault, turning to watch as Zoro wields all three of his swords, one in each hand and the third in his mouth (so that’s where it goes.) and Luffy with his rubber gumminess, send Axe-Hand Morgan flying with a shout of ��Gum Gum WHIP!”

Luffy lets out a whooping cheer and Nami and Zoro retract and sheath their weapons.

”Gum Gum Whip?” Zoro asks incredulously.

”Yeah!” Luffy replies with breathless cheer. You shrug and agree.

”All great fighters call out finishing moves.” Zoro and Nami turn their frowns on you as Luffy cackles and twists his rubber arms around your chest once, twice, three times in a hug that leaves you gasping but laughing along. Zoro sighs as you’re released.

”No they don’t.”

“Hate to break up this beautiful moment, but we need to get this safe out of here. Maybe if we find some rope or something.” You give the metal a gentle kick, and she raises her eyebrows at you as you shrug.

“Or we can do that…” as Zoro lifts the incredibly heavy safe on to his back and starts walking out of the yard.

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“Why are we using your boat and not mine?” Nami frowns at you from the mast.

”Because I don’t like your boat, now get over here.”

”You haven’t even seen it!”

”It looks like a sardine!” Luffy supplies cheerfully as Zoro drops the safe on the deck.

”Careful with that! And yeah, that confirms that I don’t like your boat Y/n, come on.” You growl but make your way on board.

At least the Harbour Master was a regular of the restaurant and would hopefully get word to the crew of the Guppy’s current location. You’re sure Patty would come and collect it, he was always good for putting things back on track. Or making an even bigger mess. It's a toss up.

”Whatever you say,” growled Zoro, “Oh wait, I don’t work for you.”

”I’m sensing a little bit of tension amongst the crew!”

”Not a crew,” Nami and Zoro called back to him, but you stayed balanced between the dock and the boat as Luffy looks up and down the wharf.

”I can’t leave without my friend.” He calls back absentmindedly.

”Can’t wait. The Marines will be here before you know it.” Speaking of the devil, Helmeppo, with the worst haircut you had seen in a while rounds the corner wielding two pistols.

”The Marines are here already. You’re under arrest.” You both begin to laugh as Luffy turns to Zoro.

”What’s wrong with his hair?” Zoro smiled smugly.

”Yeah, I might’ve done that.” In anger, Helmeppo fires off a round into the pillar beside Zoro.

”I won’t let you make a joke of me.” You snigger.

”It’s a bit late for that, genius.” He turns his nose up at you.

”Laugh while you can, dishwasher. I’m taking you in and handing you over to my father. I’ll be the hero. I might even get a medal, or something.”

That something ended up being a punch to the face as Koby launched himself around the corner at him.

"Koby?!”

”Well done! That was good!”

”God that hurt. It also felt really really good too.” Luffy grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him along the dock.

”No time to explain, but we gotta go. This whole island is trying to kill us.”

”I’m not coming with you.” You peered around Luffy as he stopped and turned.

”You sure?”

”Before we met, every choice was made for me. But now I’m gonna do what I want to do. I’m gonna be a Marine. I want to help people that can’t help themselves.” You stepped down on to the dock beside Luffy. “Next time we all meet, we might be enemies.” Luffy smiled.

”But for now, we’re friends!” Luffy clapped him on the shoulder and leaped on to Nami’s boat. Koby looked up at you shyly and gave you an awkward smile. You returned it and made a great show of pulling him in for hug before releasing him with a tight squeeze.

”Don’t let them get to you like they got to the likes of him.” You nodded your head towards the strewn body of Helmeppo. “Look for your own truth in that place, and I’m sure you’ll be fine. Take care Koby.” You follow Luffy on board and, after helping Koby push you away from the dock, you look back at Shell Town, skimming your eyes across the boats until you spot the Guppy and you smile. You doubt you’ll be coming back here. But that’s fine.

It’s not the first time you’d left a familiar sight like this one to the horizon behind you.

Next Chapter: Whispered Wishes and Demanded Dishes

48 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Say No to This

Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader, Original Male Character x Reader Word Count: 5.8k Kink: Table Sex Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, masturbation, mentions of death, Joel is mean, cheating, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, slight degradation, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie... A/N: Sorry this was posted late today. I just finished it! That said, I will not be posting tomorrow but hopefully I will the day after. I can make no promises, but I hope you can stay patient with me. Thank you!

Joel's heavy boots echo off the walls around him as he opens the door to his apartment and steps inside. Ignoring the dirt trailing behind him, he kicks his shoes off at the door and sighs as he trudges into his dark house.

He stretches his arms above his head on the way to the bathroom, turning the shower on and grumbling when it never gets hot. Another lukewarm shower it is…

He huffs as he strips and stands under the water, letting it wet his hair and slide down his back. All the dirt and mud from working washes away, being rid of one stressful day to get ready for another.

Taking in another breath, he groans at the tension still resting in his body and shakes his head. He might as well do it now.

A sigh leaves his chest as he takes himself in his hand, his heavy cock resting his palm as he closes his eyes and rubs his thumb over the head. He strokes himself, too rough with himself in an attempt to finish himself off as quickly as possible so he can go to bed. He grunts as he gets closer to his release.

And then he hears the near pounding on his front door.

With a deep groan, he forces the water off and steps out of the shower with a towel around his waist.

"Joel," a voice said as another knock came to the door.

With a gruff frown, he pulls the door open and ignores the way water droplets fell from strands of his hair. He leans on the door frame and nearly glares as he lays eyes on you.

You're not looking at him. Your eyes are glued to the dirt trail on the floor, exhaustion clear in your face as you begin speaking. "Joel, I know it's the end of the world, but it doesn't have to look like it. Marcus and I just swept the walkways today and–"

You look up and are cut off by the sight in front of you. You nearly flush as your eyes fall on his towel around his waist, his chest dripping with water, his hair darker and just as drenched.

"Oh," you clear your throat, taking a step back as your gaze avoided the towel slack around his hips and the prominent V-line headed toward uncharted territory. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were busy…"

"No, please," he grunts. "What was so important that you had to come tell me at eleven at night instead of waitin' till morning?"

You scoff lightly. "Look, I was just coming to tell you that we don't live in a pigsty."

"We basically do."

"Will you–" you sigh. "Just stop leaving dirt on the floors, please. Goodnight."

He watches you walk away and suddenly notices what you're wearing. Your shirt is thin with little spaghetti straps and your shorts are basically decoration. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

You sigh and turn back around to face him as you raise a brow. You cross your arms over your chest. "They're called clothes."

He scoffs, "They're called scraps. You might as well be naked." He goes to close the door, but you stop him as you hold it open. He turns back to you expectantly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said," he continues, too frustrated to care about chivalry, "you might as well be naked. Does your little boyfriend know you came over here dressed like this?"

You lick your lip. "First off, why the fuck does it matter what I'm wearing? Second, he's my fiancé?"

"I'm just sayin'," he shrugs. "He's got a lot of trust in this place if he thinks someone ain't gonna snatch you up lookin' like that. 'Specially this late at night."

You smirk, frustrated as you lean on the doorframe. "Maybe he just trusts me to take care of myself."

He scoffs again, turning around to walk into his apartment. You follow after him, closing the door behind you with your foot.

"He's gonna have to, ain't he? He can't do it himself."

Your lips part as you tilt your head. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

His back is turned to you as he speaks, grabbing a cup to fill with water. "It means he can't take care of you. He doesn't do most of the jobs around here. It's a wonder he can afford anything. He's slow and soft, and he can't protect nothing and nobody."

You huff. When the outbreak happened, Marcus lost nearly his whole family to runners or the infection itself. After making it out alive with his baby sister, who was only six at the time, he lost her a year later. They'd finally made it to the QZ in Denver when the pandemic broke out there and took her. After that, he fell into a depression and he's been that way for years. Then he met you…

"You don't know anything about Marcus," you mumble.

"I know enough," he says.

You walk up to him quickly, shoving his shoulder to make him turn around and face you. "What's your fucking problem?" you ask, frowning at him and his insults.

"I ain't got no problem," he mumbles, taking a sip from his water and setting the cup down disinterestedly.

"Clearly, you do. So spit it out."

Frustrated and tired, he decided he would. He took the next couple of steps to get in your face, his body towering over yours as he stared down at you with a dark glare.

"Maybe my problem is you comin' in here complainin' to me about dirty floors in this shithouse while you coddle your little pet and yell at me about how hard he's got it while I'm just tryna go fuck myself and go to sleep."

You're speechless, your lips parted as you stare at him in shock. His hair is still dripping, tiny droplets of water dribbling onto you. You have all this space behind you, but it feels like he's backed you into a wall. He's staring at you like a hungry wolf would a rabbit that made him chase it.

You gasp when his lips crash down against yours and his hands hold your head to him. Your legs give out and you push him away, using more force than you thought you would have to pull apart.

"What the fuck?" you insist, wiping your mouth clean of his and feeling your heart beating against your ribs like a bird desperate to be out of its cage.

He's catching his breath as he watches you recuperate. "Felt different, huh?" he asks, his eyes dark with lust and something darker. "Better than kissin' that sap you call your fiancé?"

Your blood is boiling as you bite back, infuriated by his gall and frustrated with yourself for the way your legs trembled. "Don't you fucking dare," you point sharply. "I love him."

"Never said you didn't," he says, taking a few steps closer so he towers over you once more as he continues to stare at your lips. "Admit it… You want to know what it's like to be with a real man."

You shake your head, "You are not a real man."

He does the same, a dark smirk falling over his lips. "No… I'm much worse." And then he's on you again.

He's like a viper, his kiss venomous and sharp but so consuming you want more of his poison. It seeps into your skin and makes you burn. You want to remove it as fast as possible, be rid of the toxin that's infecting your body, but there's something so delicious about the burn. You can't help but want to wait it out, see how far it could go.

He attacks you as he pulls you close by your head and by your waist, locking you in and keeping you there. Even if you wanted to break free—which you do, of course, you do—you couldn't.

Joel's palms grip your ass tight as he backs you into the table, and you whimper against his lips. A dreadful feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you pretend it's fear as your legs go weak and you have to hold yourself up on his shoulders.

He is strong as you backs you into a table, and he is demanding as he finds your neck and begins to suck and bite at the skin. "Joel," you breathe. "No, you're gonna leave a mark."

He chuckles darkly. "That's what you're worried about? You're not gonna push me away?"

You'd forgotten fighting this was an option. You remember yourself and move to shove him away by his shoulder, but he hardly budges.

"It's too late now," he taunts. "I've already got you, and I got you willing."

He's on you again, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and insistent fingers on your waist. You peel them away from your skin as they ride up under your shirt, but he's determined.

"Joel," you sigh.

He pulls away from you to take your neck in his hand, not squeezing, just securing you as he makes you look at him.

"You and I both already know you don't want me to stop. When was the last you were fucked nice and hard, huh? When was the last time Marco took care of you?" he asks, and you huff at the fact he said his name wrong. He knows his name.

"I can take care of you," he breathes, his voice deep and dark. "I'll take good care of you…"

You stare at him wide-eyed and anticipating. You don't know what, but you're anticipating. He sighs and steps away from you, letting you go.

"But, by all means… if you wanna go, I'll give you ten good seconds to walk out that door. If you haven't crossed that threshold before then…you're mine, and I ain't lettin' you go."

You stand there, standing between him and the door at the other side of the room. He's started counting, a silent count in his head as he watches you debate. And you hate that you're debating.

You should turn around and leave, go to your fiancé and forget this night ever happened. Forget that Joel kissed you, and you were two steps away from being bent over his table and fucked.

You move, turning toward the door to leave after making the final decision in your silent contemplation.

Just as you breach the kitchen, Joel's fingers wrap around your upper arm and he's pulling you into his chest. His grin is almost primal, animalistic as he stares down at you. "Time's up."

He devours you, swallowing you whole as he bites and licks and sucks at any skin available to him. At first, you push him away and press your lips in a fine line. But as his lips keep kissing yours, as his hands grasp your flesh and his knee separates your thighs, you just decide…it's enough.

You kiss him back and condemn the dull fire in your chest still lit for Marcus. It kicks and flickers, but it's such a dying flame in comparison to the roaring blaze of Joel that you can feel it snuffing out.

You grip his arms and let it happen as he kisses you roughly. Joel grabs at your shirt, sliding his hands underneath to bring it over your head and off your body. He grunts, your lack of bra revealing your breasts instantly to see how they've peaked within the last few minutes. He picks you up, and your legs wrap around his waist as he sets you on the table.

He dips his head down and kisses your chest, his tongue laving over the skin of your collarbone and his teeth grazing the flesh there to cover you in his marks, his claim. You sigh at the feeling of it, feeling your core throb when his hand comes up to grope your tit.

You arch your back into him, gasping when his lips wrap around your nipple and sucks. "Fuck," you choke, your hands holding his head to your chest.

He's so different from Marcus, his insistent kisses and bites are a stark contrast from your fiancé's tentative licks and pecks. He's so soft with you, gentle, afraid you'd shatter in his hands if he raised his voice above a whisper or held you tighter than he would fine china.

Joel is not like this. He doesn't care if you're frail or soft, he doesn't care if you're brittle as glass. He gropes and grabs and bites and sucks and uses you as he likes as his erection presses against your thigh. One of his hands is on your thigh, traveling under your soft and worn shorts to tease at the cotton of your panties.

You clench your thighs when he goes to pull your shorts from your legs, stopping his attempts and making his lips curl in a smile. Without pulling away from your chest, he places his hands on your thighs and pries them open. He pulls them down your legs, ignoring your nervous whimper as he does it.

He pulls back, looking down at your panties with an appreciative hum. He smooths his hand over your ass to feel them. "Don't find material this soft much anymore," he mutters. "You do somethin' for it?"

"Marcus traded some rations for them," you mumble. "It was my birthday…"

He chuckles again and kisses your breasts again. "Lucky me, gettin' to see 'em on you before they were ruined…"

"What…?"

He grabs the material and rips them off of you with a terrible snap. You feel your heart aching as he lifts the material to examine it before tossing it away indifferently.

"What the fu–"

He shuts you up with another kiss, one that steals your breath with its force and renders you absolutely speechless. "You look better without it anyway."

He keeps you distracted well enough, kissing you and sucking on you and marking you up like you don't already belong to someone else…

When his hand cups to bare cunt, you jolt, a tiny whimper escaping you when he presses his fingers between your folds. He curls his finger inside of you, scoffing when you clench around it. "You're so wet already. Is this all for me?"

You shake your head weakly, and he just raises his brow, pushing his finger in deeper and adding a second just to make you moan.

"No?" he hums. "You're thinkin' of your boy toy? Bet you're thinkin' of him walking in and seein' you with my fingers in your cunt. Do you think he'd forgive you?"

You think he'd die. You don't want to think about that…

Fortunately, Joel takes your mind off it as he starts pumping his fingers inside of you a little faster, collecting your arousal on his digits and curling them against that spongy spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling back. You grip his biceps, sliding down to his wrist and deciding whether or not you're trying to pull him away or make him go faster as you guide his hand.

When his towel falls off, you have to convince yourself that it wasn't your own hand that did it as you find it already pressed against his hip.

He's hard and thick and you don't think you can take him. He's dripping precum, and it looks painful as it jerks, eager to be inside you as you clench around Joel's fingers again.

"Like what you see?" he smirks. "Much bigger than Mike, huh? But don't worry…" You shudder as he gets to his knees, spreading your legs even farther apart to fully display yourself to him. "...I'll get you nice and ready to take me."

He doesn't waste any time. As soon as the last word leaves his mouth, his mouth is on you. Your head falls back as your eyes close. You moan, wrapping your thighs around his head and grinding against his face. His nose presses against your clit as he licks his tongue inside of you, groaning at your addictive taste.

He grips your thighs to keep you where he has you. Your hand finds his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands and tugging as he sucks on your clit and laves his tongue through your folds. As he brings his fingers to your cunt again, he pushes two of them inside once more and massages them into you as only an expert could.

"Fuck, Joel," you breathe, trying to catch your breath as he keeps working his fingers in and out of you in a punishing pace as his tongue flicks and licks at your clit. You think you're going to explode, the twisting pleasure building in your belly and tensing in your thighs and stomach as he pushes you closer.

His thick fingers stretch you out as he fills you with them, and you keep clenching as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. You try to stave it off, even as your hips grind against his face, you try to keep control and refrain from giving in completely to Joel's terrible influence on your body. What about Marcus? The man you're promised to….

However, when the coil snaps, Marcus is not on your mind as you throw your head back and moan. Your brain is all foggy, and your body tingles with each little sensation. You're going to burst as he continues to suck on your clit through your release—and a little bit after that, too.

When you come down, squirming away from him and his mouth, he pulls away with a drunk smile. "You loved that, didn't you? I could tell." He stands and kisses you insistently—you can taste your pussy on his lips. His voice is low and gravely when he speaks again. "Bet you don't moan this loud when you're with him."

Your emotions are already running high, but that's making tears threaten to well in your eyes. He kisses you roughly again, grabbing you by the back of your head and tangling his fingers to guide you to kiss him a little deeper. He doesn't do it like he wants to make you kiss him, he does it like he craves the intimacy and just needs more of it.

You break apart when you feel his cock press against the inside of your thigh, hard and angry. He grunts lightly.

"You know…" he breathes, licking his lips, "I've always wanted to know what that mouth of yours could do."

You swallow thickly, sliding off the table slowly and moving almost lethargically as you prepare yourself to take this step. This is an entirely different step than him kissing you or him spreading your legs and eating you out. This is you getting to your knees to wrap your own lips around his cock.

And you do get to your knees and wrap your lips around his cock as you hold him with shaky hands. You close your eyes as you suckle gently around the tip of him before slowly allowing yourself to go a little farther. His eyes flutter and he grunts almost silently as his hand finds your hair. He doesn't guide you, at least not yet, letting you go at your own pace.

His tangled fingers stroke your scalp gently, and the sensations bloom through you too well. It's when he leads you down on his cock, making you take his cock a little farther inch by inch until he's down your throat and you can't breathe. You try not to panic, feeling your chest tighten with the lack of air as you Bob your head as much as you can.

He groans, rolling his hips into your face before pulling you away. You gasp and instantly choke on your breath a moment, coughing until you get yourself under control again. You take his cock in your hand and pump the length of it in your palm, squeezing here and licking there and ignoring how cock-drunk you probably look.

"Fuck," he sighs. "I shoulda done this sooner if it meant a mouth this good…"

He holds you down on his cock again and you sputter around him, your eyes watering as you swallow around him. Your jaw aches, and your mouth is beginning to water.

"I think you enjoy this, shit," he says. "You like suckin' me off, on your knees like a little whore." You can taste precum dribbling onto your tongue as his hips stutter against you. "Just like that."

He guides you as you bob your head and suckle and pleasure him like you really shouldn't be doing. You feel him throb and jerk in your mouth as he gets closer, and before he can spill onto your tongue, he grips your hair and pulls you off of him, gripping the base of his cock and squeezing his eyes shut with a heavy groan.

He curses under his breath as you catch your own, thankful for the reprieve.

"Get on the table," he commands. You move quicker than you should, standing to your feet and sliding onto the table with your legs closed.

Prying them apart once more, Joel stands between them and cups your neck with his hands. Your face is creased in a frown, even as he kisses you again and you respond in tandem. A tiny whimper slips through your lips.

What would Marcus do if he found out? What would you say? What could you say? The questions fluttered in your mind but you could do nothing to answer them, your focus stolen and muddled by Joel and his touch.

He pulls back and smiles at you. "You're thinkin' about him, aren't you? What he'll think, what he'll do? Bet you're feeling real guilty."

He kisses you again, biting your bottom lip. You shudder, "Please get it over with."

He shakes his head. "No, no, no," he mumbles. "Don't you pretend you don't want this. I know you do. You've been kissin' me back this whole time, holding your legs around my head, sucking on my cock like a good girl should." He licks his lip, staring at you and your watching eyes.

"I want you to beg me," he says in a low voice. "I want you to wrap your legs around me and beg me to give you what you want."

He's right, and you hate that he's right. You want so badly to leave and forget this ever happened but you're in way too deep, and you can't pretend you don't want him as much as you do. If you had your way, you would turn back time and never have shown up to his apartment. But you didn't have your way, and you couldn't turn back time. You're here, sitting on his kitchen table, your arousal leaking out onto the wood and his precum smearing against your inner thigh. You're here with the taste of him on your tongue and your lips swollen with his kisses.

And you wouldn't leave if he gave you another chance.

"Please," you start quietly, the word barely a word as you mumble it from your lips.

He shakes his head. "No, you're gonna do it right or you can stand up and leave right now."

And there's the out. There's him telling you that you can walk away and forget about this whole thing. This is him letting you go. This is him giving you another chance.

You tighten your legs around his waist and bring him to your face, your noses bumping. "Please, Joel. Fuck me like I want it. Please, I need it."

The look on his face shines with pride. "Alright, alright," he hums, his lips pressing against your neck and nudging your ear. He pulls you off the table just to grab your ass, squeezing it tight as his nails dig into your flesh. He groans, turning you around and bending you over the table. He uses his foot to knock your legs apart, spreading them farther and farther so you're nice and open for him.

You whimper when you feel his cock slide through your folds, teasing you as he coats himself in your slick. He whispers in your ear, and his voice is so slow that it echoes off your chest and has your legs shaking with anticipation. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that boy. How does that sound, honey?"

You whine breathily. "Please."

"There ya go," he breathes. He takes his cock in his hand, stroking himself a couple times as he spreads your folds.

In one push, he buries himself to the hilt inside of your hot cunt. He bottoms out, groaning roughly as you clench around his cock and moan.

"Mm-fuck," you moan, burying your face in your arms as he presses his hips into your ass.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he huffs. "Maurice doesn't stretch you out as much as I do, does he?"

You shake your head, whimpering as he grinds deep inside of you. "N-No."

"No?" He pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in roughly, a surge of pleasure shocking through your system at the feeling of it as you let out a startled moan. "Does he fuck you as hard?"

He's building a pace, a rough, steady, quick pace that has you gripping the edge of the table. It's hard to stay quiet. "No."

"I didn't think so," he chuckles.

He grunts, his hips snapping into you as you cry out. You're a mess, entirely incoherently as you moan and whimper and mumble. You can feel the frustration he's taking out on you: the pent up stress, the internalized anger, all the lost sleep. He fucks you with the rage of a beast, his nails digging like claws into your hips as he does it.

"Ah– Fuck! Mm-yes, please," you cry out, your brain muddled. "D-don't stop, Joel, please!"

He keeps fucking you, relishing in the sound of his hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically wailing at the feeling of him fucking you so roughly.

"These walls're thin. You keep screamin' like that and someone's gonna walk in and see you," he says, smacking your ass once.

You don't let up, hardly even hearing him over the sound of the blood roaring in your ears. "Ahh, Joel," you beg. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

He smirks darkly. "Listen to you," he huffs, thrusting harder into you. "I'm beginning to think you wanna get caught. You want him to find you here, gettin' fucked by me like the little whore you are."

Your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the table so hard, but you cry for him and you beg for more, your fiancé far from your mind as you do. You chase the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you take all that he gives to you.

"Fuck, your little cunt's sucking me in so deep," he breathes.

Again, you moan his name. "Please let me cum. I needa cum. Joel, please."

"I love it when you moan my name like that, honey." He slides his hand up your back, carding his fingers through your hair before grasping a handful at the base of your head. You moan at the feeling, the gentle bite swarming your clouded mind. "Do it again."

He encourages you with another snap of his hips. "Joel," you cry. "Don't stop."

"Do it again."

You choke when he presses his finger to your clit. He doesn't rub or move, he just presses it there. Your thighs tremble, your knees are weak. "Joel, please."

And when he starts circling your clit in a fast, crazed paced, commanding you to say his name a third time, you gasp and tighten around his cock.

"Fuck, Joel!" He grunts at the feeling of you fluttering around him. "Oh, fuck, Joel. Yes, I'm gonna cum."

His pace is faltering, his rough thrusts becoming erratic as he groans a little more, the sound not as deep the closer he gets to his own sweet release.

"Fuck, baby," he grunts with each thrust. "I'm gonna cum inside-a you. Send you home drippin' with my cum, so you'll—fuck—you'll have to explain to your boy what happened tonight."

His grasp on your hair tightens. “You’ll have to tell him–mmh–how Joel-down-the-hall spread you open and ate out your pretty little pussy, how you got down to your knees and sucked his cock. Have to tell him how you begged me to fuck you nice and rough on the kitchen table till you were crying for me.”

You clench around his cock and grasp the edge of the table and mewl as you get closer and closer. His finger rubs insistently at your clit and his cock is twitching deep inside of you with the signs of his own release.

“Beg me to cum inside of you, honey.” He holds you down on a harsh thrust, a fire in your belly at the pleasure building there. “Beg me.”

“Please cum inside of me, Joel,” you gasp. “Please, please, cum in me. I need it. I need you.”

He bends over you, his front pressing against your back as he wraps his arm around you and fucks up into you. The coil in your belly snaps and you shout as you cum, your body tensing as you cry out his name. Your body is tingling with ecstasy, the eye-rolling pleasure crashing down on you in waves as you suck him into your cunt and squeeze.

“Oh, fuck, Joel! I’m cumming!” you tell him.

You feel the warmth spread in your belly as he spills inside of you, thrusting his hips against you and shoving his cock as deep as he’ll go. “There ya go, my good fucking girl. Cum on my cock, milk me like you want to.” His words break off into a broken moan.

You ride your highs for as long as they last, your minds cloudy and your bodies slowly becoming weak with the physical exertion. He grinds his cock inside of you a little more before pulling out, your mixed releases seeping from you and slipping down your thighs in a huge mess.

Joel sighs heavily, steadying himself and collecting his thoughts again before he picks up your ruined panties and starts wiping down your thighs but not your dripping cunt.

You lay limp on the table, spent and tired and so, so guilty, but also too fucked out to care. The realization is going to come crashing down soon though… The scary part is that you don’t know how much you’ll regret later when it does.

With the tension eased and his mind a little clearer, a bit of Joel's sympathy returns. A bit. He scoops your clothes off the floor and folds them up, setting them by your head on the table.

He lays his eyes on you and sighs. Your thighs are still shaking and your sighs are still little whimpers you can't hold in. He walks over to you, lightly smacking your side before wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you to stand. You moan as he does it, trying to steady yourself but relying on him to carry the weight you couldn't.

He brushes some hair stuck with sweat to your forehead. You look up at him, your eyelids heavy and almost sad. His nose bumps yours, and he kisses you. It's much different from all the others. It's gentle and soft and lets you keep up with him.

When he pulls away, his eyes stay closed a moment longer before he looks at you again. He sighs gently. "Go home to Marcus."

He says nothing else.

Joel lets go of you, looking you up and down thoughtfully. He picks up his towel before walking away from you and down the hall to his bedroom.

You let out a heavy breath, thinking over the night you'd just gone through. A shudder runs down your spine in remembrance of the forbidden bliss he'd given you, though your blood runs cold at what you had to do in order to reach that point. Marcus…

You dress yourself, tossing the ruined panties in the trash and bracing yourself as you step out of Joel's apartment to get to yours.

You step silently down the hall, opening your door and walking inside to close it just as silently behind you. You clean yourself up in the kitchen, deciding to simply throw away the rag now covered in sweat and cum.

And when you get to your bedroom, there's Marcus sleeping peacefully in your bed, entirely oblivious to what his fiancée had been up to all night…

Your lips press tentatively again Marcus' as you kiss him goodbye. He's off to work, one of the simpler jobs he attends often. As he turns to leave, waving at you with a warm smile, you return it as much as you can. When he's gone, you frown, letting that dreadful feeling wash over you as you rub your arm.

Your worst fears had come true: out of every emotion you're feeling over the situation you'd put yourself in, regret is not one of them. You feel guilty, yes, of course you do. You'd betrayed your partner's trust, a person who's only hope rests in you and your love for him. You feel so guilty about it that you could die.

But you don't regret what happened. Not like you should. Because you know you would do it again if the opportunity presented itself.

It felt so good. The tension and stress that you'd relieved last night, laying it all out bare on Joel's kitchen table as you let it all go…it was like nothing that Marcus had ever given—like nothing Marcus could give you. You love him, you do…but Joel was right, he couldn't give you what you needed.

And as you stand in the doorway thinking about it, you catch sight of Joel stepping out of his apartment, dressed in a worn button down and worn jeans and work boots. He looks up and locks eyes with you, more sober than he was last night as he takes you in.

You swallow thickly, folding your arms over your chest. You grab your door and open it a little wider and feel the heat pooling in your belly.

He considers your silent invitation. And once it's considered, he walks over and stops in front of you. Joel looks at the way you look up at him, watching him.

Licking your lips, you step to the side. He breathes the smallest chuckle, not smiling as he does it. Looking over you once more, he takes a step inside.

You turn your back to the door as you let him in…

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sodamnradd · 2 years ago

Text

Draco’s chest radiates yellow when he’s with Theo, green in Harry’s vicinity, grey most every other time, and red when he looks at her. At first, Hermione isn’t certain what the colours represent. She follows Harry around with a notebook and asks him how he’s feeling now when he’s orange (hungry), and now gold (exuberant), and now as he turns pink (none of your business, Hermione) and she watches him trail off after Ginny into the locker rooms. But what could red possibly mean?

Does Draco still hate her? Could red mean anger? But the Slytherin Quidditch team turned shadowy black after they lost against Gryffindor and she was certain that was rage.

“Ms. Granger, care to share your Potion with the class?” Slughorn stands over her with a clipboard and an eager gleam in his eyes.

“It’s a type of Synesthesia Potion, Sir. It allows the drinker to observe emotions in colour. I’ve formulated a list of what I think each colour represents, at least the ones I’ve managed to identify.”

“Fascinating!” Slughorn lifts the beaker and sniffs.

Glass shatters on the floor behind them. Metal legs screech against stone. A resonant thump-thump-thump as textbooks tumble. “Ow!” yelps Draco, knocking his head on the edge of the table, scrambling to clean up the mess he made. His cheeks are full of colour. He flicks his hair over his eyes in a feeble attempt to shield himself from the attention.

“Alright, dear boy?”

“May I—” He clears his throat. “May I be dismissed? I’m feeling lightheaded.”

Slughorn waves him away and the class resumes, with no further interruptions.

Hermione is unconvinced. Draco had the audacity to apologize to her earlier this year, insisting he’d changed. They’d even started studying in the library together. Only because she was generous enough to give him a chance. And all this time, he’d hated her. Red hot hatred.

She corners him in the courtyard before Herbology, pointing her wand in his direction. “You, you!”

Draco retreats in a panic until he has nowhere else to go. Pinned against a birch with Hermione’s wand at his throat. “You foul, you evil—”

He lifts his palms innocently, turning his face away, wincing. “I can’t help the way I feel, Granger!”

“You told me you’d changed!”

“Things happen, alright! I never expected to get close to you this year.” He’s paler than the bark behind him, a bead of sweat trickling over his brow.

The words land like a swift punch to the gut. “Your feelings changed after you got to know me?”

“I mean… how could they not?” He swallows deeply. “I don’t devote hours of my time to those I feel lukewarm about. I thought maybe you knew.”

Her throat feels tight. She blinks hard, wishing she wasn’t such an easy crier. “No, you just spend time with the people you hate. What were you trying to do? Trick me somehow? Win back popularity points with your Slytherins?”

His mouth opens, shuts, opens again. He utters a single syllable. And then stops talking. His eyes flick down to the tip of her wand. Then up to her. He looks helpless. If she weren’t so wrecked, she might have felt sorry for him.

Finally, he says, “I don’t hate you.”

Her wand lowers fractionally. “Then what does red mean?”

As if summoning the colour by name, Draco’s face blooms full of it. He takes her wrist cautiously and lowers her wand all the way. His grip is gentle, the edge of his thumb running over her pulse.

“It’s better I show you,” he says in a low voice.

The racket behind them is gone. The bell rang five minutes ago and now they’re officially late. For once, Hermione can’t be bothered. Instead, she nods tentatively, thinking maybe she’s so upset because she’s grown fond of his eyes. The way they look at her. Not lukewarm at all.

The hand still holding her wrist tugs her closer. One step forward and they’re pressed right up against each other—and she feels it. He’s hard.

Her heart begins to race.

Draco caresses her jaw, watching his fingers in fascination, touching her skin.

Her eyes flutter shut.

Their lips meet.

Oh, she determines, somewhere in the back of her mind, That’s what red means.

(717 words, prompt: neptune & somewhat inspired by the full flower moon last night 🌸🌕)

#sodamnrad #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dramione drabble #drabble #sodamnraddrabbles #dhr

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fyodior · 3 months ago

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hello flora, m anon here. how are you doing?

the age play drabbles you wrote had me FROTHING AT THE MOUTH AAHAJVAOVNIOANVIOAVGIOAENGV M CLAPPING MY HANDS LIKE A JOLLY VICTORIAN CHILD. but anyways... it fit so well with mama!dazai i just COULDNT. STOP. DROOLING. OH. MY. GOODNESS.

not only would he have you refer to him as 'mama' in public, but i would NOT put it above him to start taking his role of mama a bit more... to heart.

like i can totally see him not really cooking(as we all know how hes too good for the kitchen) but maybe starting with something small... a glass of milk for you whenever youre down or about to head to bed.

of course, at first you give him a suspicious side eye. but;

"oh? why wouldn't i help mama's baby get ready for bed?"

he knows just how to make you flush and squeak with just those two little words. and so. you take the milk.

its good. warm. smooth. and obviously sends you to sleep with osamu in half the time it usually takes.

over the next weeks, the glasses transition into mugs, which turn into sippy cups that youre getting far too sleepy to fully poke fun at or question.

after all, its not just the milk hes pampering you with.

the handholding in public, the whispers to stay close to him, the cooing kisses on the couch...

theyre all enough to make you feel smaller and smaller and smaller. in the best way possible.

youre already lying in bed, tummy missing its favorite drink, when your brown-haired lover steps into the dimly-lit room with a jolly hum. after all, youre so cute when youre all wrapped up in your futon -- gnawing at the blankets whenever hes not around to coddle you.

"baby?"

"uuhn."

late at night, with only osamu and nothing else in the world to stir you back to rationality; everything feels so much softer. so much safer. so much easier.

"mama's got you your milk. it seems like you were just a bit too tired to come get it yourself, huh?"

your favorite edge of the futon blanket is getting soggier and stickier the more you absently chew.

"mm... sorry, mama."

"ah, ah, ah! wrong words, darling. what did mama teach you to say instead?"

the futon dips with the weight of your caretaker. your protector. your nurturer.

"thank you."

"thank you, what?"

your eyes flutter up to just barely catch ahold of his own chocolatey ones. twinkling in the darkness as the warmth of your bedtime drink approaches.

"thank you, mama."

lukewarm fingers wind their way through your hair. it reminds you of how he brushes it every morning. teasing and giggling at your stories of whatever dreams you had tat night. but always, always, always gentle.

"good baby. now, can you open wide for mommy?"

of course, your lips part with a wet sound. the futon corner now disregarded and lying soggy and cold.

"good baby."

a funny, soft, squishy material finds its way between your teeth's front rows. its not hard like the mugs your osamu used to give you. but also far easier to gnaw on than the sippy cups you were used to.

brown eyes locked onto every twitch of your face. eager ears perked for any little noises you would make. and of course, his grip was always gentle while holding your head up to drink.

"... mnh."

sweet, silky, and soothing hot milk pooled in your mouth as you began to suck. slowly, hesitant at first. but as the first few gulps went down, and as your mommy cooed a breathy; "there we go, baby..."

everything melted away.

sucking, gulping, and occasionally gnawing on the rubber nipple had become your new favorite drink. and you were sure he knew it too.

rustles of fabric rippled your mind languidly. the crickets outside were a melody in the back of your head. and as you just kept on nursing and drinking and whining for more whenever mommy's hands shifted just a bit -- you hardly even realized when the bottle was empty. with how glossy and laden your eyes had become after all, it was no surprise that you were still totally entranced.

"all done, baby?"

another whine fell from your lips. louder now, since the nub had slipped out of your mouth.

you wanted more.

shushes and hums circled overhead as the brunette fully crawled into bed with you, his lanky body just shy of being entirely laden atop yours.

"n-noo! gnooo...!"

but seeing as it didn't work, he opted for another way to make you stop crying.

warm lips pressed tenderly against yours.

pulses of electricity rippled through your entire head. your entire body. everything. it was so hot, like you were about to explode --

just as you were about to start whimpering again, a faintly familiar sensation tickled the bridge of your lips. once. twice.

"nnh."

and on the third time, they pushed through.

lukewarm hands were beginning to easily heat up under the sheer feverish heat of your head now. still forever entangled in your locks as his tongue swam greedily over the pliant pink of your own.

overwhelmed, overstimulated, and oblivious to everything else -- you fell limp. only whining and whimpering with the shuddering waves of fuzzy happiness mommy was giving you with every prod of his tongue.

at least you weren't crying anymore.

wasn't your mama the best?

i….. oh…. my GAAAWWDDDDDDDDDDD WHAT THE HELL !!!!! i’m like. on the floor over this holy SHIT

i LOVE the concept of him slowly warming you up to the idea of him babying you and taking on that mama role, because just shoving a bottle in your mouth wouldn’t have gone well. he had to be strategic about it which is SO dazai. starting with the glass to the mug to the sippy cup to finally the bottle is actually genius. also how he brushes your hair every morning is so sweet and gentle i AGGHHHHHH

the gnawing at the corner of the blanket…. falling into that little mindset like dazai taught you to do so as you so anxiously wait for mama’s return… PERFECT

of course you’re still lovers though, and osamu can’t keep himself from kissing you silly, especially when he sees you in such a fragile state so desperate for love and comfort. it’s just how mama shows his love!!!!

all of the dialogue in this literally had me on the floor this was so wonderful and perfect and delicious i need so much more of mama dazai he’s so … why is the concept of a man being referred to as mama/mommy so sexy i can’t understand but MMMMMMMMMM wow. THANK YOU!!!!!!

#m anon #voices in my head #mama dazai #tw mommy kink #tw age play

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ilektrasteam · 2 months ago

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A few (possibly?) controversial takes that I have regarding boku dake ga inai machi (mainly rhe manga), starting from lukewarm to more hot takes:

1. This story is way deeper than people give it credit for, and while there are flaws in the writing, I think there's tons of themes that are sadly not talked at all by fans, such as childhood trauma, depression, existentialism and religion.

2. The story should be labeled thriller or suspense instead of mystery. One of the main complaints I hear from people who watched the anime is that it doesn't try to be a mystery at all.

3. Kayo is not a shallow character. She is a traumatized child. Also enough with the "she is just a plot device and does nothing, only to leave the cast". She is an abused 12 year old, she should not be getting involved in solving a serial killing case.

4. Kayo not ending up with satoru is great. I will never forgive the anime for trying to push a romance narrative. Not only is it a great subversion of the "hero gets the girl trope", but it's also incredibly creepy. It doesn't matter that satoru is biologically a child. There's several scenes that point out that he still has the experiences and viewpoint of an adult.

5. If this series had a different audience, it'd be appreciated way more. Sorry, but most if not all mainstream anime have such an "in your face" storytelling, that it doesn't promote thoughtfulness. All people I've seen criticize the anime always have the exact same takes, like "the story is very childish, the killer is predictable, the implied romance is not endgame". While even mainstream anime I personally consider shallow are capable of complicated theming too, the fast pace, overacting and loud sense of humor doesn't leave room for the audience to sit down and process the undertones of the plot. Erased (the anime) has a different energy. The characters don't have exaggerated expressions and despite it being a drama and thriller series, the atmosphere is visibly calmer and cozy. It's not about a grand adventure. Most of the scenes are about every day life. If it was a western cartoon it would probably have better perception because 1) plenty cartoon fans love overanalyzing and 2) unlike adult shows, they are more forgiving of the more "kiddy" aspects of the story (power of friendship and all).

6. After reading some of Kei Sanbe's other and more recent works, I feel more confident to say this:

Yashiro is an underrated villain and is a great antithesis to satoru. Also I genuinely don't think he is a pedo, despite it being a fairly popular consensus. I interpret their relationship as a toxic found family one. It's even stated that satoru views him as a father figure. While yashiro's crimes ARE messed up, there hasn't been any implication that the motive was pedophilia.

Both are pushed to depression and emotional detachment through childhood trauma (satoru with survivor's guilt and feeling responsible for the deaths of kayo and hiromi, with yuuki being accused)(yashiro and the dangerous household he grew up in). Both cannot connect with other people, a common trauma trait. Both tried to find thrill or enthusiasm for life to cope with depression and/or emotional constipation, but they used different means: satoru by helping others, reconnecting with his mother and forming friendships, yashiro through risk taking, scheming and killing. I wish their dynamic was explored a bit more, I think there's potential there. Satoru seems like yashiro's foil to me.

And this is not the first time Kei has written about an unhealthy, complicated (PLATONIC) relationship of villain parent-son.

Yashiro is the only one who believes satoru's revival, while satoru is the first person to see through him and survive. I'll step on english teacher grounds of overanalyzing here, but I see the whole spice thing as a metaphor for the spider, just not sure what metaphor exactly. Satoru and spice survived hell, which may give hope to yashiro he has a chance too. Or maybe spice and satoru ARE the spider. Or maybe spice and the children are hell dwellers, while satoru is the spider who saved them. Or- okay I will stop.

I'm open to discusssion or different opinions, in fact, I encourage it, just please be respectful about it. What I love about fiction is the different interpretations people can form

#erased anime #erased #boku dake ga inai machi #overanalyzing #I swear #this manga has me on a chokehold

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago

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A time before DB and JK meet officially where they crossed paths but don't remember or almost but missed each other by seconds. You know, typical kdrama missed meet cutes lol.

🪩 WORDCOUNT | 2.4k 🪩 NOTE FROM HOLLY | so... that thing about me and finding it impossible to write anything short.... yeah that. lmao. this is bd lore in the BEST possible way imo. something that neither of them remember and likely never will. this is set about four years before the events of BD. JK would have been 20-21, and B would have been 21-22 (give or take a year). thank you SO much for this request. i had so much fun with it!!

🪩 BD DRABBLES MASTERPOST 🪩

Jeon Jungkook looks devastatingly pretty with cherry-red lips. Smudged and a little faded, they leave the faintest mark on the end of his cigarette—a bad habit, he knows, but one that he picked up as an excuse to flirt with a girl whose lips are far more crimson than his.

Of course they are, though. How else would she stain him in evidence of her existence if they weren’t?

Even when he’s tarnished in her, there’s no evidence of him on her. Nothing to tell new acquaintances to stay away—and Hayun loves making new friends.

A bottle of Jack rests by his feet. Neat. A little lukewarm. Ass perched on the curb outside a house just off campus, he’s in no mood to get himself embroiled in the debauchery he knows his friends are partaking in. Just wants to clear his head.

Foolishly hopes she’ll do the same. That she’ll notice his absence. That her heart will ache like his currently is.

In their final year of studies, his friends are all letting loose for the final time before they have to cram for finals. It’s a night of celebration. Of last-chances. Of opportunities that won't present themselves again for a good few lunar orbits.

And so while he may not have the same restrictions, having started his studies a little later than scheduled, he’s been making the most of it with them.

Quiet kisses hidden from his friends are fun. He likes them. Loves them, even.

But to then watch her very publicly let a guy make moves on her? To make moves back?

Feels fuckin’ awful.

“Oh, you know what?” A voice echoes from the porch of the house behind him. “You can take her violin and shove it up your ass, you ostentatious, pseudo-intellectual prick.”

It’s a little twisted, but it brings Jungkook comfort to know he isn’t the only one with a shitty excuse for a love life. Knows he shouldn’t listen in—but fuck it.

“Where does she keep her violin, huh? In your trousers? ‘Cause that’s the only way that what I just saw and what you’re saying could even possibly correlate,” the girl continues, unrelenting in the way she dictates her speech. Barely lets her partner get a word in edge-ways. “No? She not a tiny violin specialist? The rooms aren’t that dark, dickhead.”

He thinks the tirade is over, but finds himself laughing when he hears, “And not to brag, but my last eye exam went exceptionally well, so don’t you dare try and tell me I was seeing shit. Twenty-twenty vision, baby.”

It’s easy to tell whoever is speaking is deliberating adding a little dramatic flare to their words. Is definitely drunk. Is also definitely not afraid of standing her ground.

Glancing over his shoulder as he stubs out his cigarette, he’s surprised to see the girl—you—on the phone instead of confronting someone in person.

In a pretty little party dress, you’re just the right combination of hot mess. Even from a fair distance away, he can notice the glitter all over your skin. Not really his type��so different from Hayun—but there’s something about you. Something that intrigues him. Makes it hard to look away.

“She could be fuckin’ Vivaldi for all I care!” You seethe into your phone. “Does it sound like I give a shit if she’s the best in her class? You want me to give her a gold medal or something? Don’t piss me off. Prick.”

Jungkook would argue that you’re already pissed off. With a tone of voice like that, you must be.

There’s a final curse, and then your phone is almost thrown across the front lawn. Almost. You know better. Know that you can’t afford to replace the screen if you shatter it. Instead, you have to grit your teeth and scream.

It’s only once you finish your venting of frustration that you notice a pair of starry eyes on you.

Raising your brows, you shake your head in his direction. “Can I help?”

And then he fucking laughs. Shrugs. Is pleased to see it makes you smile, too.

“Really hate violin, don’t you?”

Shaking your head, far kinder this time, you sigh. “Don’t have much of an opinion on them. Not unless it’s the strings in the intro of Untouched by The Veronicas. In that case, the violin is the greatest instrument known to man.”

“Untouched? The Veronicas?” he laughs, suddenly reminded of a song he hasn’t heard in years. “Didn’t realise it was still 2005.”

“Hey, don’t be judgy,” you say as you walk towards him, perching down on the curbside, too. “It’s a classic.”

“Never said it wasn’t,” he defends, reaching down for his bottle of Jack and offering it over to you. “Boyfriend trouble?”

Shaking your head, you decide that unloading your problems onto a stranger is exactly what this night calls for.

“Girl I’ve been seeing. Wasn’t that serious.” Nodding towards the bottle you add, “You first.”

“Seemed pretty serious,” he mumbles, before swigging down his whiskey. Jack is shit, in his opinion, but it’s cheap and it gets the job done. Clearing his throat with a small ‘ah’, he holds it back over for you to take. “Satisfied?”

You don’t vocalise a response—but you do take the bottle from him and ignore the burn as it races down your throat. Of everything you’d choose to drink, Jack Daniels would not be it. You like fruity things. Had been on vodka cranberry juice all night.

“Wasn’t serious," you double down, then shrug. "Can’t let people think they can get away with bad behaviour, though. Let them do it once, and they’ll do it again and again."

It’s something you’re adamant about. Something you’ll do well to remember.

“Anyway, you know why I’m out here like a miserable bitch,” you continue as you pass the bottle back. “What brings you here?”

“Something similar.”

It’s only now that you really take him in for all that he is.

Same age as you, you think, judging by his build. Though his shoulders are broad, he hasn’t properly filled out yet—he’s trying, though. You can see the definition in his arms. His shoulders. Clearly is trying to shape himself into a man. No longer a teenager, but not really an adult. With eyes like that, though, he’ll always look a little younger than he is. His dark hair waves around his features, so casually undone you know he must have put a lot of effort into it. It’s sweet.

He tries, and that’s more than can be said for most of the boys at the party.

“It doesn’t suit you,” you tell him.

“Hm?”

“The red lipstick,” you nod towards the sheen on his lips. There’s a little on his neck, too. His T-shirt is black, but you imagine there’s some there, as well. “You’d look better without it.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Guessed as much,” you softly smile. “So what, then? Your girlie pissed all over her territory? So no one else would approach you? Then decided she wanted to play elsewhere?”

“Something like that.”

“Girlfriend?”

Jungkook just shrugs. Tells the truth, even if it feels like a lie. “Just friends.”

“You kiss all your friends?”

“Just one.”

“Ouch,” you wince. Friends-with-benefits situations are dumb, you think. Wouldn’t ever wanna end up in one. Know they end in unbearable heartbreak. “That’s rough.”

He nods. Knows how it’ll end, too, even if he’s been trying to tell himself otherwise.

“Well, we’re friends, now,” you declare, definitely too drunk to be making good decisions. “You and me. Have bonded over terrible people doing terrible things.”

He wants to tell you that Hayun isn’t terrible.

Instead, he raises a brow at your fledgling—and fleeting—friendship.

“If she’s off making new friends, then maybe you should consider kissing your other friends,” you playfully shrug, knowing better than to get involved in a situation like this. “Y’know… make it even.”

And Jungkook is well aware he shouldn’t indulge in your flirt, but he’s hurting. Wants to feel wanted—and the way you’re looking at him? He can’t remember the last time Hayun looked at him like that.

The way you see it, you’ll never see this man again. You could both do with a little pick-me-up. Confirmation that life goes on, even if the people you date are awful.

A kiss is just a kiss.

Or at least, for now, it is. One day, you’ll develop a complex. Blame Seokjin.

But you’re yet to meet him. Yet to unlearn all your rules and make far feebler, more pathetic ones in their place.

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute,” you whisper, edging closer ever so slightly.

“Kinda?” He tweaks a brow, eyes not on yours, but on your lips. There’s a little glitter in your gloss. Think maybe it’ll suit him better.

“Mhmm,” you hum, reaching up to lightly trace your thumb across his bottom lip, ridding him of a little bit of his very own red flag. “Kinda. Never kissed a guy with a lip piercing.”

Just a stud, he’s only had it a little while. Was trying to make himself look a little older. Sharper. Light from the house catches in it as your thumb pulls back - but Jungkook pulls closer. Nudges his nose against yours. Holds it there for a second.

“Maybe I should take one for the team,” he husks, lips brushing yours. “Just so you know what it’s like.”

Nodding, you let your nose stroke against his. “You’d be such a good friend if you did.”

Lips parted, the end of your sentence grants him permission to sink his lips between yours. Slow as he does so, Jungkook’s scared of fucking it up.

Hasn’t kissed anyone that isn’t Hayun for months, now. Isn’t even sure he knows how to.

And yet as soon as you press down into the kiss, his mind is void of her. Totally blank. Pitch black, until the faintest of stars begin to appear. Sparkle. Shine.

There’s a sweetness to you, even despite the whiskey. Maybe it’s the cranberry juice. Maybe it’s your lip gloss. Jungkook doesn’t have the mental capacity to decipher it, for he can feel your tongue stroking across his bottom lip—and then he’s granting permission. Inviting you into his mouth. Stroking his tongue against yours, as if he’s in the privacy of the party bathroom—not out front for everyone to see.

Shamelessly, he almost wants Hayun to see—but as quickly as a thought of her intrudes, it’s replaced by the way you feel. It makes him pull you closer. Gets him whining into your mouth. Makes you smile.

It’s confirmation that there’s nothing wrong with you; that the girl you were seeing really was just a dickhead.

Pressing your hand to his chest, you slowly push him away. Are reluctant to finish kissing him. In fact, even as you push him back, your body follows, until you force yourself to pull back.

“There,” you smile, a little infatuated with how sparkly his eyes appear. “Now you’re even.”

“We can make it odd, again, if you want,” Jungkook offers, far bolder than even he realises. Just doesn’t wanna stop kissing you. Maybe it’s just the whiskey. Yeah. He’ll blame it on that.

“That’s a bad decision waiting to happen,” you laugh, getting to your feet, because you don’t trust yourself to stay. “My purpose is served. Friends don’t fuck you over. Stop wasting your kisses on people who are gonna fuck you over.”

Your message is clear: she’s not your friend.

It’s a lesson he’ll learn far too late in life.

“But you’re ditching me?” He says as you begin to walk away. “That’s not friendly!”

For a girl who should really be wallowing in self-pity, you’re surprisingly chirpy. Jungkook envies it. Wishes he could stop caring in the way that he does —he just doesn’t realise your situationship really was as simple as they’re supposed to be. The feelings were yet to fully develop.

If love is a choice—which you think, to a degree, it is—then before it can develop, choices have to be made. Your partner is supposed to choose you. The girl you’d been seeing has just demonstrated that she wouldn’t choose you, and so why should you choose her?

Life was simpler before Seokjin; before you really knew what it was to love.

Or, to love, and to not be chosen.

To choose, even when you’re never chosen.

Sort of like how Jungkook is, now.

“I’m doing you a favour!” You call back, tipsy smile just as radiant as you seem to be. You're jovial in your tone, and the attitude rubs off on him. Gets him smiling, too. “Saving you from yourself. If I kiss you again, you’ll fall in love, baby. They always do!”

The way you jet off is spritely. Happy. Abundantly clear that you’re yet to know what heartbreak really feels like.

The girl getting a little too friendly with the star violinist will be long forgotten by the time you meet Jungkook once again, and so will he. In fact, the scar left by Seokjin manages to mangle just about all of your romantic memories prior to him.

You’ll become folklore; a girl Jungkook doesn’t know the name of, but who Hayun is pretty sure is legally named ‘Desperate Skank’. Someone they argue about on a few too many occasions. A memory he barely remembers, but in the heat of their drunken fight later that evening became a permanent sticking spot in their situationship.

‘Cause while Hayun was off making friends, that’s all she was doing. Getting numbers. Getting a little touchy-feely. Getting her ego stroked. Getting zero kisses, because she had been reserving them for him.

Why she was only making friends with six-foot-something muscle pigs with more protein powder in their system than common sense is another thing they’ll argue about—but he’s the one in the wrong this time, or so she makes sure to tell him.

He’ll think of you sometimes. The memory will be hazy. Blurry, like driving down a midnight highway with astigmatism.

He’ll think of you, and he’ll see stars.

And when he sees you again in the dark of Dionysus a few years later, with no recollection of who you are, his brain will scream at him. Beg him to remember.

He won’t.

But he will, inevitably, see stars once more.

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gattmammon · 3 months ago

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Mildly hot to lukewarm take here but I think part of the problem with cryptobros and the like is the obsession with monetizing every single instant of their life.

Like there are a whole series of activities out there that exist entirely to give you a sense of accomplishment even if technically you are not accomplishing anything. Completing a card solitaire. Cheering on a sports team. Playing videogames is a huge one. Hell, this is how most people practice their creative hobbies. You don't make a crochet afghan because you NEED a crochet afghan, you do it because you want to feel the satisfaction of doing something.

When you are actually trying to achieve something that you need there's the possibility of failure, which reflects badly on your own self-perception. Those kind of activities give you the chance to feel accomplished when things go well but lose nothing when they go bad. It's zero stakes, it's only to fulfill the human wish to see Number Go Up. It's understood that's how those things work. We enjoy partecipating in making things exist that weren't there before. Be it art or virtual cookies. It's not about the product, it's the process.

These finance/crypto/investor types are also obsessed with Number Go Up, except the number HAS to be their bank account. The problem is. Everyone needs money. That's why so often monetising your hobby ruins it for you - suddenly your livelihood depends on something that was zero stakes. That's why they keep falling for the same scam over and over. They keep searching for that holy grail Number Go Up activity that will make them money AND give them that sense of realisation both, without realising that what makes the Number Go Up activity function is the fact that it doesn't make money. Thats why they also got obsessed with AI art. They have lost the ability to enjoy a process, be it an actual creative process or just the press of a button in a cookie clicker. They think we are ALL trying to accomplish ACTUALLY making the number go up, instead of the result being just incidental to the process. If the point is having one more image of a big tiddy anime girl then sure prompting an AI is the same as drawing. But like. That's only part of why people practice art. Most of it do it because they enjoy the process of drawing the big tiddy anime girl.

Basically what I'm trying to get at is if we switched the entire stock market with a cookie clicker type game in the night nobody would notice until like a year in

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barbiecrocs · 2 years ago

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Hard to hate.

Eddie Munson

tags! enemies to lovers, no piv, no spoilers for s4, oral (female receiving), fingering, teasing, pet names (princess), name calling (dingus), hair pulling, cumming in pants, underage drinking

I think that's it. Lemme know if I missed something.

WC.5433

Barbies note...So I mention the Cityman Nokia but that came out in 87 so the story is set really early 87 and they are abt the graduate. Ik the time line doesnt make sense, but dont worry abt it😝. Anyway, enjoyyyy

You loved your friends, and it's been a while since you've last hung out, but what you wouldn't give right now to be home alone with a bag of hot fries and some horror flicks. Yeah, sure you said, "Steeeeeeeevie, we should kick it at your house tonight." Making finger guns at him while everyone piggybacks off of that thought. Robin butting in, "Fast times?" She nods with two thumbs ups directed at an unamused Steve.

"Ugh, again?" Nancy complains, rightfully so.

"What, it's a good movie." Robin gestures to you as back up, but you put your hands up in defense, not wanting to pick sides. It was a good movie though, but at the same time, it was worn out.

"No, that movie is so run through by all of us. How many times have we rented it from Family Video now? For heaven's sake, I'd rather watch a horror movie at this point!"

"Wow, Nancy. Daredevil, you. Maybe we a porno instead or something. Eddie wouldn't mind, nor would Steve." She teases.

And that's where you exit the convo. At the name drop of Eddie. Your eyes flicker around the video store, eye catching titles such as Nightmare on Elms Street, Sixteen Candles, and Fame pop out at you before you catch Steve mouthing a Fuck you while giving you the jack-in-the-box middle finger. Cranking and cranking until it pops out. You give him a playful smirk and an eyeroll, typing in the 'F•r•i•e•n•d•s' group chat that's name was always being changed to some joke like 'Brad's bud-lings' or Linda's Bralette. All Fast Times references made by Robin, each one deserving an eyeroll. "HANG OUT AT STEVE'S TONIGHT!!" you relay. Even though the only person you'd be informing is Eddie and maybe Chrissy if she reads the group chat. Only popping in to say hi every few weeks. 'What could possibly be keeping her so busy?' The question always circles your mind before being brushed off.

Steve's phone pings, looking down at it in hopes that it doesn't say what he thinks it says. Nope, it says exactly what he didn't want it to say. He glares at you, gently bumping shoulders with you when he walks over, inching his way down to your ear. "I hope you know that you're driving them." He taps your shoulder for fake comfort, not understanding the big problem.

—

The feeling of a headache coming on from the noisy car says it all. You should've taken the warning when Steve dished it, too bad you didn't know. Nancy and Eddie talk loudly in the backseat, trying to hear each other over Madonna's 'Material Girl' that Robin put into your car's DVD player.

'A couple more blocks. Just a couple more blocks and I can just chill at Steve's house and watch movies or whatever he has planned this time. Maybe we'll watch Fast Times again, it never gets old. Or something new like Pretty in Pink, yea that came out recently.' The thought relaxes you before Robin brings back all the stress, placing a lukewarm beer on your skater denim thighs. Your favorite low-rise jeans. They were a dark wash color, a perfect fit and were tattered with embroidered stars with a little distress.

"Care for a beer?" She asks, a tad too loud for your close proximity, "Oh my god Robin, for the last time, NO. And you reek of beer, get back." She rolls her eyes at your order, "Ugh rude! Don't be such a bummer, just take the beer. See? Here, I'll help you since your hands are full." She drunkenly puts the unopened beer can to your lips, tipping it up and down. "Huh, nothing's coming out, strange-", you grab both of her wrists with one hand and turn down the volume, "Robin! For heaven's sake please put it down, you're blocking my vision. Gosh, who the hell let her sit in the front! Guys mind giving me a hand? Geez!" You continuously swat Robin's hands away while trying to keep a steady steering hand. "Princess, you let her sit in the front. Remember? So, you did that to yourself."

"Okay well, I wasn't expecting much help from you anyway. And stop calling me princess, dingus."

"Stop calling me dingus, princess." He retorts with a chuckle in his voice. That motherfucker, he probably gets off on stressing and teasing you.

Nancy grabs onto the back of your seat, pulling herself towards you, "Nuh uh, no, not today. Both of you shut up. You're acting like children. Why do you hate each other so much anyway?" You both shut up, waiting for the other to give a response.

You didn't answer because you didn't actually hate Eddie. You only acted like this because he hated you first. Well, you interpreted it as hate. He would just straight up ignore you. You used to have a crush on him, giggling like a little schoolgirl when he'd pass you in the halls. You thought that maybe he was just dense, but then your best friend Chrissy exposed your little crush to him. Yet, he still did nothing about it.

None of that mattered your junior year though. You decided to put yourself out there like Chrissy did. You were social, prettier, and had the school's hotshot, Jason Carver on your arm. He wasn't your type, but everyone kissed the ground you walked on so why complain? Why complain about the times he would chew with his mouth open? Why complain about the times he'd brag about how your tits bounced when he fucked you? Totally leaving out the part where he only lasted 30 seconds of the "pounding" he gave you. You'd always rant about it to Chrissy, both of you rolling your eyes and snickering when he'd talk about it.

Through Chrissy, you met Steve, Nancy, and Robin, all your best friends to this day. Y'all would go out for milkshakes, watch movies, go to the mall and have a blast. Things were settling down nicely for your senior year.

But then, Eddie wormed his way back into your life through your shared friends and classes. Suddenly, ignoring and hating him was starting to get exhausting. How could you hate someone with good music taste? You'd act disgusted when his trashy drug den of a van pulled into the school's student parking lot or Steve's driveway. Then you'd notice Metallica's 'battery' pouring out the speakers of his car and can't help but bob your head.

Then there was his sweet and smile. His smile was angelic. All the leather studded jackets and band patches in the word couldn't dim the brightness that is his smile. It was a little crooked, but his lips were perfect.

And his hair– God, his hair. How much you longed to curl your fingers in his soft frizzy locs. Run your fingers through and grip it at the scalp while he devours you like a starved man– No. You are past that phase and over him. But as you'd like to think, none of that mattered anymore. You broke up with Jason, still had your friends, and still didn't like Eddie. If only you knew that Eddie never actually hated you either.

–

You swallow hard at the question that sits tensely in the air between you two. He notices your silence on the topic, a smug grin easing its way to his face, "Cat got your tongue?" You can hear the teasing sarcasm in his voice, practically oozing out his mouth. "Oh yeah? Why don't you answer it? You have a mind and mouth of your own." Glares exchange through the rear view mirror before you break away.

"Nancy, please." You plea, not waiting for Eddie's clapback. Nancy sighs, not wanting to hear you both argue like kids anymore. "Okay. Come on Robin, you've had enough time in the front seat." She skillfully maneuvers Robin out the front seat and buckles her into the back with them, all in the blink of an eye. "Thank you." You give her a sickly sweet smile and shoot Eddie a nasty look. A couple more turns and you arrive at Steve's house.

"We're here, kids. Get the hell out of my car." You joke. "Let me remind you to never have kids." Eddie chuckles. You try your hardest to seem indifferent from that and the banter you had with him in the car, but your demeanor still slips from under your hands. "Right, says the druggie and seller. Plus, I don't think your house is in living condition for kids or anyone ever." You slam your car door, locking it and marching up to Steve's door with a tired look plastered on your face.

"Hah, she called you a druggie. Me personally, Eddie. I wouldn't take that." Robin laughs, leaning on Nancy's shoulder as she pulls her out the backseat. Eddie punches her arm, "Yeah whatever. And you know damn well that you'd take that."

"Yeah, I would." She bites her lip in thought.

You bang on Steve's door again, pulling out your phone to call him since he still hasn't answered the door. You guys have been standing out on the porch for what, 5 minutes? "Knock again, maybe you didn't do it hard enough." Nancy suggests. You knock again, putting your ear to the door. "Oh wow, look at Sherlock over here." He taunts and you flip him off. "Shut up. There's music blasting through the door. No wonder he can't hear us." "Okay well, can you make him hear us, because Robin's really heavy." Nancy readjusts Robin on her shoulder while you dial Steve's number on your Cityman Nokia. "Well, aren't you updated with the times?" Eddie glares at your phone. It had just dropped at the beginning of the year. Within seconds of it ringing the door flies open with a casually dressed Steve leaning against the doorway and a turkey sandwich in his hand.

He takes a bite, "So how was the drive?" A genuine question that you can't help but lean into his chest, head first. "Haha, very funny. You knew damn well what you were doing when you said I was driving." You put more of your weight onto him and he pats the top of your head for comfort. "Oh haha. Lemme guess, Robin road in the front?" You nod, "Damn, drunk?" You nod again as he looks up from the top of your head to Robin. "Damn, want a sandwich?" You nod once more. "Can we please hurry this interaction up or give me a hand." Nancy gestures to Robin. Steve finishes his sandwich and shuffles you inside.

——

"Mhm! Oh my god, Steveeeee." You moan, dancing in your seat. "This is so good!" Eddie rolls his eyes at your chipperness. The entirety of bacon, lettuce, tomato, avocado, and turkey all toasted on one sandwich. Steve laughs, enjoying your enjoyment. "Glad you like it. I usually have mine with chips, but I ate the last bag yesterday."

"That's fine. Got any pop?" You bounce happily in your chair before your mood is abruptly ruined by Eddie interjecting from the other side of the island. "I'm sorry, what? Pop? You mean soda? Hell, I'd even take soda pop or fizzy pop, but just pop?" You stop dancing to give emphasis to you not liking his tone or the fact that he was talking to you in general. "Yes, just pop. Steve knows what I'm talking about anyway. Isn't that right?" You put a hand out waiting for said drink to be put in your hand. The refrigerator opens and closes and the cold drink is placed into your palm then you shove it in his face. It was Coca-cola. Eddie sighs, fingers rubbing the space between his eyes, not bothering to continue the argument. "Dingus." You say under your breath, cracking open the can.

"So, what do you guys want to do?" Steve pauses, rounding the counter and plopping down on the floor across from Nancy and Robin. "Because I don't have a movie planned."

A sharp gasp comes from Robin. "No Fast Times?"

"No? That movie is worn out anyway. Maybe another day though." He says, getting up to look at his movie catalog before Nancy excitedly jumps up. "YES! THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING. IT'S SO WORN OUT." She says, earning a silent laugh from you. You catch Eddie glaring at you once more. "Why can't you ever take your eyes off of me? I always catch you staring." You say, finishing your sandwich. "Because, I'm just so in love. Your beauty is captivating, my love." He says, almost making it sound genuine, but the hint of sarcasm gives it away. "Oh, watch out. You almost made me fall for it." You finish your sandwich and join the others in the living room.

"How about marry, kiss, kill?" You suggest, taking a memory foam pillow from the sofa and sitting down at the coffee table. Robin suddenly takes interest in the convo ever since getting shut down for the movie. "Ooooh, good one. How about we add fuck, too. Just to spice it up."

Eddie joins the rest of you in the living room, plopping down on the sofa between Nancy and Robin as she starts the game. "Hmm. Nancy, you first. Jason, Fred, Chance, and Steve." Her face scrunches up with every name drop, the look of disgust written all over it. "Fred?! You just had to put that one in there." She pauses, shooting Robin a devastated look as you snicker. Oh the betrayal. Robin rolls her eyes, finally starting to come back to herself after all the cups of cold water Nancy shoved down her throat. "Oh come on, spit it out."

"Alright, fine. This is speaking as if me and Jonathan aren't together, okay? Marry Steve. Kill Jason. Kiss Fred. Fuck Chance." The group's eyes go wide with surprise. "Have you always thought about killing my ex?" You tease, looking offended, but you really weren't. Hell, you'd help with the murder. "Yes! Oh my god he's such a dickhead. I talked to him for the newspaper and he was sunshine and smiles during it, then turned around and tried to tell me how to do my job after. Saying stuff like," She pauses, clearing her voice to mimic his dopey voice. "Oh, don't forget to add the part where I'm captain of the basketball team and how many shots I scored in the last game." Mind you, the question I asked him was, "How do you feel about the bullying incidents and what would you do to prevent it?" Since he's supposed to be one of the school leaders. Ugh, he just gets on my nerves. I'm so glad you dumped his ass because I cannot stand by and let one of my friends date a literal piece of shit on the floor." Her manic rant stops as she places her hands back on her lap, not realizing she was using them to talk in the first place.

"So…Um, fuck chance huh?" Steve says, picking the conversation back up. "Yeah. I've talked to him a couple of times for the newspaper club and he's really nice. Plus he's got nice hair and facial structure." She waits for responses, but everyone just looks around in agreement. "Okay, Y/n." From the way she says your name, you know she's about to fuck you up with this one. "Gareth, Eddie, Andy, and Patrick." "Ugh. Two people each from the 'freak' and 'dickhead squad.'" You ignore the glare from Eddie and put your elbow on the coffee table in front of you, leaning into your hand in thought. "Okay, I think I got it. Marry Gareth. Kiss Andy. Fuck Patrick. Kill Eddie." You close your eyes and list all of them on one hand, some laughs, some eye rolls, specifically one from Eddie. "You'd fuck Patrick but Kill me?" "Yeah, I was shocked. Eddie is very fuckable." Steve says while Robin agrees, getting a sideways look from Nancy. "Not fuckable by me of course. I just meant that as a compliment if I was straight. You know?" She clarifies. "He's got a cute face, nice hair, and he's the perfect height. I wouldn't mind being married to that cutie pie. I feel bad though because he's probably so innocent, he looks it too. I'd ruin him with our relationship." You laugh. "Oh well. It's not like I wouldn't love doing that anyway." "Yeah right. As if my princess could ruin anyone." Eddie stares you down from the couch, thighs clenching from his whole demeanor and 'my princess'. "Don't call me that and I'm not yours." You say in a hushed tone. "It's fun to watch you deny that nickname. I know you love it, princess." He inches closer to you.

"I don't." You inch.

"Do." He inches.

"I hate it as much as I hate you." You inch.

"I also find that hard to believe." He stops inching closer, anymore and you'd be kissing. You totally didn't want that. Robin would've joked around and said 'Kiss already!', but she didn't want the death glare and possible death that would come with it. She could see it now, both of you hovering over her as Eddie chokes her out and you high five him. Her face going blue and vision fading to black before going to the light or who knows maybe she was going to hell. She prayed she wouldn't. But this isn't about her, and that never happened, only in her drunken coming sober thoughts. Where it shall stay.

You both hover over the coffee table as the rest watch. He leaves you speechless, no clapback, not even a huff. Only a broken glare, but your silence says all he needs to know. You slam your hands on the table and walk away, visually startling everyone, but Eddie. He doesn't even flinch. "Don't you walk away from me!" Eddie follows after, his long legs mindlessly stepping over Robin's feet with ease as you two bicker. "Don't tell me what to do! You're not my dad." You storm the hallway, stepping into the closest room, being a guest bedroom. You try to shut the door in his face, but he's right behind you, hot on your heels. He gets a foot in the door as you shut it, luckily for him, his platforms are thick so it didn't do much damage. He flings the door open forcefully, sending you back into a dresser. He slams the door loudly.

"Should we do something?" Steve looks down the hallway from where he is. "Can you see anything?" Robin askes, but he shakes his head. "The door is closed." Nancy rubs her temples, "I feel like we should do something, but I don't wanna be the one to get hurt. Like what if they turn on me because I get in between their 'lovers quarrel'? I don't wanna find out." They both nod their head in agreement. "Yeah, I say we step in if we hear stuff being thrown or like actual violence. Right now we should be on standby." Steve announces as if it was a real plan. In reality, they just didn't want to interfere.

Eddie cages you between the dresser and himself, so close you could feel his uneven breath on your face. Your bodies glued against each other, his leg separating both of yours, and brushing against your cunt. His hands on the outside of yours, chests almost touching if not the height difference. Both of you stand idly in this position, calming your breathing, taking a moment to assess the situation you've gotten yourselves into. You try to move from under him to clear your head, accidentally rubbing your cunt with the thigh that separates your legs. A moan almost slips, but you bite your lip, hoping he doesn't notice. He does. "Hm? Got something to say princess?" He hunches over you, easing down to your level. "Fuck you!" "You'd like that wouldn't you?" His leg shifts again, feeding your entrance and clit that delicious friction it hasn't had in a while. You let out a muffled curse, "You want my attention so bad." Eddie's face contorts into fake confusion, trying to brush it off. "What?" "You heard me. Always making little quips even when I'm not talking to you. When I am talking to you, you always tease me. It seems like you love talking to me. You can't get enough of it. If you hated me as much as you say, you wouldn't call me princess. It seems like I'm not the only one that enjoys that nickname." You smirk, seeing his composure crack before quickly recovering. "So, you do like that nickname?" Your face turns hot from embarrassment. Oops, you didn't realize you had let that slip out. You got ahead of yourself and your mouth ran faster than your brain. Now it's at the finish line and you're sitting there looking dumb at the start. "I, I don't." You don't even know why you're still lying at this point. You've been found out.

"We both know that's a lie." His lips find your neck as he lifts you onto the brown hardwood dresser you've been pressed against. He settles his hips between your legs. "Fuuuuuck. Fuck you." You begin to trip on your words, every sentence comes out with a stutter in it. "Just say the word and this can all end." Your train of thought evaporates when he finds that sweet spot on your neck, stamping hickeys that will definitely show with your clothing choices. He notices your silence and starts to pull away, afraid that he overstepped. "Don't! Don't stop, please." Your begging goes straight to his groin and your arms wrap around his neck, ensuring that he won't go anywhere. "Oh? You sound so sweet for me, princess." You give in, not complaining about the nickname and focusing on the growing heat between your legs. It was just a stupid nickname that you might or might not think about in the shower while you imagine his head between your thighs.

He takes his hand from your hips and slides it under your shirt, groaning when he's found with a bra. "What, can you not get it off by yourself?" You reach a hand behind to help him before he slaps it away. "No, I got it." He skillfully unhooks with one hand, your eyebrows lifting in surprise as he laughs. "I'm not a virgin and a loser. I pick and choose my struggles, okay?" He pulls your shirt above your head to be met with your breast. They sit perfectly on your chest, perfect size, perfect for your body, perfectly soft. He groans lowly while teasing your nipples, your tits fit perfectly into his cold ring-clad fingers. He plays with them like a kid with their first slinky, completely mesmerized, squeezing and squishing them together. His hot mouth encases one of your taunt nipples as you fight the urge to slip your fingers into his hair. "Go ahead. I know you want to." It's almost as if he read your mind. "I know you love the curls, all the girls do." You roll your eyes. "So, grip it if you need to." He smirks up at you through full black eyelashes, trailing his kisses lower to the waist of your jeans, which you didn't know he unbuttoned. His fingers slide against the skin of your hips, looping around your jeans and tugging them down your legs. Leaving the wet area on your panties exposed to him. "Well, would you look at that? You've soaked right through them." His words fluster you, but before you can reply, he's grabbing you by the back of your knees and pulling you closer to the edge, your ass only half way on the dresser now. He drops to his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, clutching one by the back of your knee again. He levels with your soaking cunt, giving it an experimental lick, not for you, but for himself. He slides your panties off, letting out a groan from the sight. Your beautiful pussy, glistening because of him. He runs a thick finger up your puffy folds to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as he watches your chest heave from pleasure.

Eddie continues to mindlessly tease your sensitive clit. Pulling muffled and bitten back moans from you. You hoist yourself up, trying your best to roll your hips farther onto his face, but he holds you down. "Eager now, are we?." He nips around the area you need him the most. Kissing and licking your thighs. "You must want to get your hair pulled, whore." He bites at your thigh harder than before. "Says the one getting her pussy eaten by her "sworn enemy". Isn't that ironic?" "Oh shut up. You haven't even-" Your tongue gets caught in your throat blocking the moan that dares to leave your lips.

It was supposed to be a petty lick to make you shut up and appreciate what he was giving you, but he couldn't believe how sweet you were. The lust clouding his brain, his dick hard and leaking precum, pressing impossibly hard against his jeans, all factors working together to drive him more crazy. He starts to lap at your pussy, slurping and suckling the juices as you try to pull away from the sudden pleasure, but the grip on your thighs tighten possessively. You glance down at him to see his eyes, pupils blown wide and clouded with lust. He's eating your pussy like a starved man, sloppy and the bottom half of his face soaked with your juices. He's wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking kisses to it when he slips a finger in you. God, your walls are so velvety soft and what he wouldn't give to be in them. His fingers could be in you for hours, past the wrinkling stage.

Loud moans and curses erupt from your throat, hoping your friends in the other room didn't hear. That somehow the loud noises went unheard or they were suddenly deaf. They didn't. They can and did hear everything.

"So… So, I guess they're not fighting anymore." Nancy pauses, picking stubborn threads from the old couch. "Um, yeah… So uh. PIZZA! Yea pizza, y'all wanna go get some pizza? I mean I didn't make either of you a sandwich earlier. You must be hungry." Steve tries to carry the convo while Nancy and Robin nod their heads in agreement. "Yup! Haha, absolutely famished." Robin says, really playing it up. "Yeah! I mean, like when was the last time we ate? Three days ago? Haha!" A heavy silence sits between the three of them, then Steve grabs his keys. "So! Um, let's go get that pizza!" Fake smiles emerge from all of them, trying to act like two of their friends weren't in the next room fucking. "Oh, Shot-"

"No Robin. You're not riding shotgun."

"Aw man."

The loud shutting of the front door can be heard by you and Eddie, but you didn't care and apparently he didn't either. He begins to give your pussy little kitten licks. Fuck, is he teasing again? What is his problem? You're already dripping and desperate for him. He is enjoying this all too much.

You grab him by the hair, eliciting a moan and shove his face in your cunt. "Eat." You demand as Eddie looks up at you through those fucking eyelashes again. His hands resting on your marked up inner thighs. You weren't the only one enjoying the view, though. You thought you looked absolutely crazy right now, chest heaving unevenly, a sheet of sweat coating your body, your shirt sticking to your breast from the sweat and pupils blown out just like Eddie's, but he was loving it. If only he could pause time and save this image forever or had the artistic ability to paint this moment how he sees fit. The image alone could make him cum in his pants. You panting over him, fed up with his teasing and finally putting him in his place. He obeys, using the tip of his nose to rub circles on your clit as his tongue plunges in and out of you. Your head falls back against the mirror behind you.

Both of your hands pull his hair as you roll onto his face, desperate moans pouring out of your mouth. He continues to moan into your pussy, coaxing you closer to your orgasm with vibrations. Your eyes shut when he slides two fingers in you, not wasting any time on delaying your orgasm. His efforts have your legs shaking in his grip as you gush on his face. He watches intensively, eyes flickering between your fucked out but satisfied face and your spasming pussy. Your precious moans turning into whines of his name as he fingers you into overstimulation. He slips his fingers out and slurps up the rest of your essence.

Your eyes open when you feel his lips on yours, tasting a bit of yourself on him. You moan into the kiss, giving his tongue the opportunity to explore your mouth. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him back to slide off the dresser. You push him backwards towards the bed and drop to your knees. Placing one hand on the wet tent in his pants before he grabs it.

"I want to." You assure him before he says anything.

"But you don't have to."

"But I want to."

"I said you don't have to."

"I said I want to."

"Fine! I don't want you to then." You look at him in confusion before he continues.

"I don't consent. I won't let you." You narrow your eyes at him before dropping the topic. "You're a weird one, Eddie Munson." You start to gather your clothes and head to the bathroom. "Oh, can you change out here?" He says, ushering ahead of you and shutting the door. "Oh, okay?"

Eddie shuts the door behind him, his eyes falling on the situation in his pants. He manically searches the bathroom for a rag he can use to clean the cum out of the inside of his pants, luckily it didn't soak through yet. Yet. He undoes his studded belt and lets his pants fall to the floor, finding a rag and scrubbing the best he can with hand soap. He can be heard huffing and puffing from outside the door, "Hey Eddie. Lemme ask you a question." He nearly jumps out his skin. He thought you already got dressed and left. "Um okay? Shoot."

"How come you hate me so much?"

"Oh princess, I never hated you." He tries to multitask, but fails terribly and almost slips on the bottom of his pants. Luckily, he grabbed onto the sink.

"Oh yeah? Well, you always ignored me. Chrissy told you I had a huge crush and you still didn't make a move or try to talk to me."

"Oh yeah. That. To me you were such a sweet girl. I thought you were too good for me and you'd leave me in the dust with nothing but my heart to hold." He stops scrubbing, reminiscing about the said times.

"You were too good to be true. You were too good for me. You were top of our class and you already had colleges knocking at your door. I didn't have dreams that big. I didn't want to dim your light." He trails off, starting back to scrubbing.

"Why didn't you let me make that decision? I should get to choose who I hang out with." He can hear you stepping closer until you finally lean against the door, back first he assumes.

"I just wanted the best for you." He takes a dry towel and soaks up as much of the wetness as possible. Almost dry. He fits his pants back on, opening the door slowly to ensure you had enough time to move.

Then he feels a fist against his chest. "I hate you, you know." He smiles down at you, "From someone that was rubbing their pussy on my face, I don't believe that." You both walk out the door into the hallway to be met with the smell of pizza and your group of friends plus Chrissy. "Oh hey! I ran into these guys at Domino's." She grabs a slice and holds it out to you two. "Pizza?"

#smut #eddie munson #eddie #stranger things #stranger things smut #enemies to lovers #eddie x fem!reader #eddie smut #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #y/n smut #eddie x y/n smut

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repeatsquared · 2 months ago

Text

A Life for a Life - 7

Chapter 6 Recap: Seeing someone's face isn't always as relaxing as it could be. Being one of the only people to truly know who a big-time villain leaves a lot of room for danger, or so Claec believes. After laying out a series of promises, explanations, and threats, Alex is sworn into secrecy about the earlier events of the week. Then, sent home, anxious and mortified about what is to come.

Word Count: 1,621

Trigger Warning: Depression, stalking

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

The weekend was a drag. On Saturday, Alex spent the rest of their time curled on the couch with an ice pack on the swell of their eye and a hot water bottle tucked against their aching ribs. The TV played on and on, only background noise receiving little to no attention from the individual on the couch. They barely moved, only getting up to use the bathroom. Eating was the last thing on their mind, resulting in no lunch when the cab dropped them off and no dinner when the sun got close to setting.

Their mind raced and head spun as they considered the possibilities of the day. Or week. Or month? It wasn't until then when they considered how long this "arrangement" would last. Would they have to prove that they were trustworthy? Or would Claec just wait until he felt secure enough that his face wouldn't matter? And how would he keep an eye on their actions? Through cameras, or goons, or checking in and kidnapping and threatening them?

They weren't sure. They had no idea on any of the fronts, what may or may not have happened. All that Alex knew for certain was that they would not be taking a taxi anywhere for a long while.

Sunday was a bit more entertaining. At the threat of their stomach clawing at their chest, and the incredible displeasure of having to slave over a stove due to the lack of instant meals available, Alex clawed their way off of the couch, away from the now-cold bottle and the lukewarm icepack, and into the shower to clean up.

The steaming water was welcome against their skin, still coated in sweat from the beating and stress of the days prior, and wafting a stale stench from the abandoned hotel. Their hair lay greasy and flat against their head, but sprung to life once scrubbed clean. A shower could make someone an entirely different person, it was certainly a welcome sensation.

Alex stood in front of the floor length mirror hanging on the back of the door, wrapped in a towel and investigating their visage. The bump on their head was no longer swollen, but was still decorated with yellows and purples around their eye. When they opted for glasses instead of their usual contacts, the color was apparent but less noticeable than before. The bruising on their ribs was still dark and violent, and had they not been staring at it for a week it would have made them cringe. A new bruise decorated their stomach from the punch received only a day prior, just under the solar plexus, not nearly as dark but plenty visible.

Time seemed to slow as they took care of themself, brushing their teeth, drying off their hair, picking up the long forgotten skincare routine their mother had gifted them, and taking daily meds. Monotonous work, but it kept them busy, and made them feel like they had accomplished something.

The sight of the bedroom, however, did enough to destroy that sense of accomplishment almost immediately, when they realized how little clean clothes they had available and how desperately they needed to do some laundry. After dressing in sweatpants and far too large of a hoodie, laundry became their top priority. It didn't take long to gather up all of the stray garments, throwing them into a cheap, white plastic bin tucked into their closet and hauling it down the hallway. Half an hour and a few quarters later, the clothes began to spin around the machine, and Alex was out the door with their keys, heading for the parking garage.

Their mode of transportation was nothing special, just a small black sedan. Two doors, a slight bit of rust decorating the bottom, one tire suspiciously low to the road, and a rear door handle taped down to avoid it popping off. They had owned the car for years, since they had returned from being abroad, and despite its state it had never let them down.

They weren't exactly sure what was planned for the trip until they arrived at the local animal shelter. They stared up at the door, taking far too long of convincing themself to go inside before actually getting out of the car and making their way to the door.

It was a small building, and it didn't seem to match the surroundings of the city. It only appeared to be one story tall, with an angled roof and a cozy, welcoming entrance. Immediately to their left was a desk, attached to another room they wouldn't be allowed to enter. An older woman sat there, chatting away with a hidden individual through another door, until she noticed them waiting.

"Hey, sweetie!" She called, her voice gravelly but warm. "Welcome in, if you're wanting to look just let yourself in. Dogs on that side, cats over there. Got any questions, come ask." And she was back to her conversation. Alex could hear the invisible person laughing as they made their way towards the door mentioned for dogs.

Barking was evident before even stepping inside, hesitant but forcing themself to pace the kennels. It was sad, seeing so many of them, most barking for attention, or maybe annoyance at the noise of the others. Nevertheless, Alex had a hard time being around dogs anymore, and pushed away any of the resurfacing memories.

They were quick to leave the room, a hand on their chest to help steady their breathing. After a few moments, they made their way to the other side, pushing the door open and looking around.

Similar to the dogs, the walls were lined with small metal cages stacked on top of each other, though many of the doors were open and only a few of the cats seemed to be inside rather than exploring the floor and playing with various toys scattered about.

No one else seemed to be in the room, most were apparently drawn to the playful and energetic dogs. But Alex melted into the silence, only interrupted by playful hisses and the occasional meow to grab at attention from themself or another feline.

They knew that adopting a pet wouldn't be an option. Their apartment had a no animal policy, but that didn't mean they couldn't stop in and admire the small creatures for a time or two.

There was one that always caught their attention, an older cat named Gimpy. He clearly favored one of his front legs, and was always cautious to approach whenever they entered. It took a few moments before the cat would wander up to them, but at that point he would be purring, and took very little encouragement to rub against their shins and let out craggly calls for attention.

Leaving the building was always a struggle, even more so than going inside, and Alex was usually left with a cold feeling of loneliness. It was difficult to go through life without companionship, but they could barely take care of themself properly, let alone a cat. Or even a human. It was why their most recent partner broke away and moved back to the other side of the city. It didn't hurt as much as before, they understood every bit of reasoning. Though it did leave a sting if they focused on it for too long.

After a quick drive to the store, they held a bag of six frozen meals and some packets of ramen. They still lived like a college student, but found comfort in the simplicity of meals such as those. College was an easier time, and a far more comfortable one at that. They would do almost anything to be back in that headspace.

They stopped in the laundry room first, moving the wet clothes into the dryer before returning to their apartment. Alex paused just inside the door, looking around, as was usual. Everything seemed the same. Dusty shelves, TV running with the pointless news, plastic water bottles tossed carelessly onto the coffee table and floor. What made them hesitate this time was the sound of their radio in the kitchen. It certainly wasn't on when they left, and they couldn't really think of the last time it was turned on.

They rounded the corner, glancing around as they moved, pausing and staring at the device emitting some sort of news report about another fight in the city, before twisting the knob and being met with silence once more. Another pause, almost like waiting for something to happen, as they eased the plastic bag as silently onto the counter as possible.

And... nothing. They couldn't notice anything astray on the kitchen counters, no sign of someone breaking in. Nothing.

Maybe there was a power surge. Or they bumped a button while putting the ice pack away earlier. They had been fairly spaced out, it wasn't unbelievable that they would have made a mistake such as that.

It took far too long to ease their mind, but they eventually willed themself to put the meals into the freezer, leaving out the ramen so they could toss a pack of it into the microwave. They found themselves humming as they worked, removing a bowl, filling it with water, dumping the brick of noodles inside and covering with a plate.

Then they were frozen again, staring into the microwave, their hand still holding onto the handle, keeping it held open. They were shocked they didn't drop the bowl in their hand, with the icy shock that ran up their spine and blurred their vision.

Inside was a bowl that didn't belong to them, filled with a still-steaming soup. The smell didn't process in their mind, and all they could do was stare at the small note that set in front of it.

Said I'd keep an eye on you. Enjoy. -Claec

Chapter 8

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

I know I mentioned writer's block, but after @claec-stan sent me some inspiration I was write (haha bad pun) back to it, so enjoy a quick and short update on Alex's weekend! I also just want to thank everyone again for the support, you guys are the absolute best! <3

#hero oc #oc #original character #short story #villain oc #villain x civilian #writing #a life for a life #enemies to lovers #fiction

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radiowallet · 2 years ago

Text

Eyes Open - Chapter 5

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: Marcus takes a shot in the dark. WC: 2.1K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, single parents, DID I MENTION THE YEARNING?

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

Part 4 >>> Part 6

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

----

It is the most unproductive morning Marcus has had since perhaps the days leading up to Missy’s birth. It’s a similar feeling, that low thrum of anxiety as he waited for the inevitable call that would change his life forever. Granted, this is on a much much smaller scale but the fact remains. How could he possibly focus on anything while he waits for his phone to ring?

He’s a ball of nerves, pacing to and fro across his office floor, the pattern practically worn into the hardwood beneath his feet. With each pass by his desk, he sips from his fourth cup of coffee, lukewarm at best, the caffeine doing little for his nerves or his fatigue.

He and Miracle Guy had watched through narrowed eyes and muffled breaths until, finally, their suspicions were confirmed. Miracle had made one final play to convince Marcus to let him fly down there and take care of the situation himself, but he held firm, sticking to his guns and calling in the tip to the station.

“We need these men to give up the guy in charge. The threat of them speaking up could be enough to lure their boss out of wherever it is they’re hiding.”

In the end, Miracle Guy agreed, but not before he took a few shots at the failure of police work and overcrowded prison systems. Marcus was usually the first to wield that particular battle cry, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t use a broken system to his advantage every now and again. They stuck around just long enough to watch Chief Baldwin shove each suspect into the back of a squad car before finally parting ways with a slap on the back and a tired smile passed between the two heroes.

Marcus had gone home just long enough to catch a few hours of stolen sleep in a bed that after so many years alone was just now starting to feel too big. When his alarm went off he groaned loud and long before dragging himself into a scalding hot shower, letting the steady beat of the water pressure pound into his lower back. Hot coffee and a silent drive to the office did little to quiet his anxieties, and he knew he’d be on edge until he heard from Amy.

And it was only partly to do with local police work.

He’s considering his fifth cup of coffee when his phone rings, the sound sharp where it buzzes across his desk. He doesn’t bother crossing the room, instead calling the tiny piece of aluminum to him with the raise of his hand, relief like butterflies fluttering alongside the beat of his heart when he sees AMY flashing across the screen. He answers with shaky hands, his voice catching at the base of his throat, a smile carving out a home on his lips.

“Hey, Ames.”

“Hey! I’m so sorry I didn’t call until now. It’s been a zoo over here. Some big arrests were made late last night.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he hums, noting the pitch to her voice is genuinely higher, but between her lines he can read the truth.

“Yeah. Apparently, a tip was called in about a moving van in a suspicious part of town late last night.”

In the background, Marcus can hear the distinct flurry of a busy precinct. The shout of officers, the ringing of telephones, someone calling Amy’s name again and again. He swallows around the lump in his throat as the guilt starts to creep up the back of his neck.

“Shit. Are you…are you too busy to talk?”

“Well, there’s a ton of evidence to categorize so that’s been keeping me busy. Plus two of the three arrests have priors big enough that they’re being moved upstate. The other made bail.”

Marcus doesn’t say a word, but fear creeps in to join his guilt.

“Yeah, it’s all pretty boring stuff. I’m so busy with all this paperwork. I probably won’t be done processing the three of them until around 12. If…if you still wanted to talk, that is?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” he answers quickly, refusing to be bothered by how desperate it sounds to his own ears. “…But before that?” Marcus asks, testing out the waters of what she’s trying to convey.

“Just a lot of paperwork and rubber stamping shit while those guys sit in empty interrogation rooms. Derek isn’t even here to help. Off getting ready for a press conference.”

“Well, what if I brought you some coffee? Real coffee,” he offers, his smile hopeful despite the charade.

He swears when she answers back he can hear the same shade of hope.

“I’d like that.”

——

Amy was only half exaggerating for Marcus’s benefit. The arrests made in the middle of the night had consumed her day, most of which was spent chasing down arrest records and recording each piece of evidence. That’s where she was supposed to be now, sifting through the heavy boxes dumped unceremoniously in the evidence locker.

Part of her was looking forward to the distraction from the nervous flutter in her heart.

That same part that was anxiously watching the door for the familiar sight of broad shoulders and an easy smile.

Marcus’s texts from the night prior had become a matter of contention. She read them through once, twice, then a third time, the butterflies rising and sinking with each pass. Finally, when it was apparent nothing new could be gleaned from the two simple messages, she gave up, turning off the last of the lights and falling into the twin bed tucked into the corner alcove of her living room.

It was the ring of her cell phone and not her alarm that woke her the next day, Derek’s voice tired but thrumming, a disarming energy he only seemed to have when something big was going down. When she walked into the precinct an hour earlier than usual, a report was thrust into her hands and she spotted one detail almost immediately. A tip that snowballed the three arrests called in late last night.

Right around when Marcus had texted her about giving him a call.

The pieces were starting to click into place after that, the text messages that had her heart flipping took on a new context. She barely had time to laugh at herself before she dove headfirst into her work, the stack of papers on her desk rivaled only by the number of times her name was called. By 9 she was nearly cross-eyed, going in for her third cup of coffee, the taste all together too bitter but still delicious. She took a moment to drink it, willing her heartbeat to slow to something manageable before picking up her phone and cradling it between her ear and shoulder, dialing Marcus’s number with practiced ease.

He had been anxious on the phone, his voice nearly an octave higher, and Amy swore she could hear the smile in his voice when he suggested bringing her coffee. It’s not an offer Marcus makes regularly, the two of them always content to drink from the pot that sits just behind her desk, no matter the number of faces he pulls after every sip. Still, she hates how she wonders if his offer, in all its kind sincerity, was still part of their lie.

There isn’t much time to dwell on any of it. She spots the broad shape of Marcus Moreno’s shoulders pushing through double doors at the front of the building and breaking her train of thought. Amy curses again, this time out loud, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him, her defenses falling by the wayside when she sees his smile.

They lock eyes briefly and she smiles, ducking her head to scribble across a post-it note. The message is vague at best, but she’s confident Marcus will understand, and with one more smile sent in his direction she turns away.

——

There are exactly three coffee shops between Heroics headquarters and the 98th precinct. Two chains that serve fine if not overpriced coffee, the menu always reflecting some sort of fad– cold foam, olive oil espresso, pistachio sugar. Things Marcus had no desire to try let alone figure out how to order.

The third option was small, tucked between a used bookstore and a pawn shop. No sign on the door except for the little plastic one reading OPEN, the rest of the window filled with art; large paintings in bright vibrant colors, smaller self-portraits done in shades of gray, pieces of metal and glass fused together and catching in the sunlight. He had found it by accident one day, stepping inside the doorway to take a phone call and catching the scent of freshly baked pastries.

He had immediately brought Amy a cup, and the two of them had quickly decided the coffee (and the muffin he had brought for them to split) were perfect. It never grew past that, the two of them falling back to Amy’s truly horrendous brew the very next time Marcus stopped by. And even through his grimace, he somehow found himself preferring it.

But he remembered clearly how her eyes had slipped shut, a soft hum, almost like a purr, parting her lips and a deep sort of contentment filling out her features. It would be impossible to forget.

He has that exact order in his hands now, and after catching Amy’s eye, he makes his way to her empty desk, keeping note of the direction she’s moving in, out of the corner of his eye. Waiting for him amongst her clutter is a Post-it note, a number scribbled in the bottom left corner in black pen.

And just below that, easily mistaken for a forgotten doodle – a small heart.

Heat blooms in his cheeks, matching the affection pooling in his heart. He exchanges the coffee cups and paper bag for the Post-It, tucking it into his pocket before turning and following in the direction Amy had headed. She’s waiting for him down on the third floor, the low-lit basement enough to conceal the smiles they trade.

“Hey,” she breathes, and Marcus is quick to match it, his own greeting falling out of him in a hush. He doesn’t hesitate, stepping into her space, close enough to smell her perfume, clean and sweet and mixing perfectly with the notes of coffee on her breath.

She tilts her chin, just enough to look him in the eye, searching for the answer to a question she hasn’t asked. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching up as if to smooth her bite away. He’s hopeless, wondering what it would feel like to let the pad of his thumb drag slowly across the plush pink of her lip. They stay that way for a beat longer, a far more awkward version of their almost kiss, before finally they’re both laughing, bodies falling forward to muffle the sound.

It feels like enough for them to find their footing, the ground of their friendship solid again beneath their feet. She feels familiar and settled, a comfort in his arms that reminds Marcus that whatever this couldn’t possibly be a mistake. Not as long as Amy kept laughing just like this.

“Okay,” she starts, her cheeks red and her smile wide, fingers finding the bend of his elbow. “I’ve been dragging my feet on processing these guys. Derek’s already had his go at them and he should be out until this afternoon.”

“How much time can you buy me?”

“The two that are going upstate won’t be moved until 4 at the earliest, but there’s no telling with the one who made bail. Someone claiming to be his girlfriend has been blowing up our phone lines.”

“You think she’s lying about who she is?”

“I don’t think he’s the one she’s worried about.”

Amy squeezes his arm again, the palm of her hand dragging down to hold his. She shakes her head, as if to push one singular thought away, worry creasing across her brow. Marcus nods and then, taking a cue from her own gentle touch, he squeezes at her hip, just once, before stepping away.

“I’ll start with him then.”

“Last room on the left. The door is locked.”

She doesn’t offer him a key. She knows he won’t need it.

“I’ll be up at my desk waiting for you to get back from the bathroom?”

“You’d think I’d remember to go before heading over here by now,” he jokes, delighting at the way she mockingly rolls her eyes. She turns away but Marcus can’t help himself, stopping her just as she’s about to press her foot into the bottom step, calling her name out into the dark.

“Hey, Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“What are your plans for tonight?”

——

A/N: This story continues to just be so much fun to write. I hope all of you who are reading are having just as much fun as I am. Thank you, endlessly, for reading!

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno x ofc #marcus moreno fanfic #we can be heroes fic #we can be heroes

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