#rest on your oar

[meryton-etc]

Rest on Your Oar (and See) Commentary Track

It’s been two years, nearly, since I published Rest on Your Oar (and See). According to AO3, it is my 6th most popular fic by hits, and my 4th most kudos’ed. By Popular demand (twitter poll) here is some commentary about politics and references in the text! It may be THE MOST PRETENTIOUS THING i've ever written

Read this with the fic (here) open beside you, I guess? I don't know how to do this kind of thing

Content Warnings: Discussions of the holocaust / Shoah, mass death on the Mediterranean and English Channel, depression, suicidality, parental abuse

Rest on Your Oar began life in my green notebook, which also contains fan favourites such as every Silmarillion fic I’ve ever posted, and ‘An Ebb, a Wave, a Soft Crash.’ I write most things longhand first, and then type up the second draft. If something strikes me as having potential i’ll polish the second draft into a third, but not always. 

Rest on Your Oar wasn’t so much something that I wrote as much as something that created itself. It felt like it was in my hands already as I began to put it on the page, although that’s not to say I didn’t put a large amount of work into it. The longhand version follows the same structure as the published one, although it’s about half as long and it’s not as good. I don’t spend much time thinking about law in draft one, which is funny, because I think that’s the most important element of the entire thing.

If there’s one thing this fic is about about, it’s Modernity, and more specifically the space that law currently fills in our lives (one that might once have been filled by something else [God]). It is also about Europe, History-with-capital-H, [both of which are really just Modernity again] abuse, queerness, and depression. Modernity was when the disenchantment started: the scientific method and bureaucratisation came in - both forms of systematisation - as a result racism became codified by science instead of Religion, the individual conscience became king, and the King lost his head. And more!! 

Why yes, I have read Angels in America, thank you for asking.

This commentary will explain some of my thinking on this, as well as things that I would change, now. As I said, it’s been nearly two years, and they’ve been personally eventful. This is especially true of the focus on Europe.

I should have been clearer: the [ongoing] colonialism that has endured for the last six centuries and the current focus on borders, borders, borders make this place, at this moment, an Evil one. At this moment, we would rather maintain an absurdly expensive and brutal system of social murder, rather than deal with problems we ourselves have caused. If you’re looking for a cause to throw €5 to over the next few months - and God knows you probably aren’t, given the cost of living these days - consider organisations that come under the banner of the Calais Appeal (you can find it on instagram). Over 300 people have died in Northern Europe (France and Belgium mostly) trying to get into the UK. In 2021, according to the UN, 3,231 people lost their lives crossing the Mediterranean sea. These are people with beating hearts, inner lives, families and friends that love them dearly.It is international law that you can claim asylum in any country you want. The EU and the UK are breaking international law. There are NO LEGAL ROUTES into this place unless you are already a member of a privileged minority. The EU knows that this is the case and persists in these brutal policies regardless.

A final note before starting - Edgeworth is deeply depressed during this fic, and surprise! I was deeply depressed when I was writing it. Depression is very difficult to measure when it gets that bad, because your perceptions of everything, including time, are skewed and sometimes unreliable. I know now that I was deep into it, and this comes through occasionally in the writing and the language used. I want to say that I appreciate every comment - some of the loveliest, most gracious, best-written comments I have ever received are on this fic - and would like to let people know that I’m doing better now. In case you were wondering!

-

The title comes from an Eileen Ní Chuilleanáin (pronounced Eye-leen Nee Quill-en-awn) poem, “The Second Voyage.” It’s about Odsseus deciding that he hates the sea and must leave it, and then realising that he can’t, and must go back. I love Ní Chuilleanáin so much - she writes with an acute eye for detail. Can’t recommend enough. Anyway, you should read the poem alongside the piece, and bear in mind the ending. Is it happy? 

Is fanfiction literature? I’m going to ruffle a few feathers here and say that I’ve been reading fic for a good deal more than half my life, and I think the answer is usually not, or at least it’s not usually good literature. I’ve published more than 33 fics, which is quite a few, and even then, I think there are maybe three that I could possibly, possibly, with a lot of work, spend a few months editing and send off to a magazine. I write in the fanfiction genre and mostly, for me, generally, that precludes analysis or deep themes. Some people treat it differently. I approached Rest on your Oar differently. That’s why the references to the Holocaust and the Second World War are in here. If something is about the Law, and about Europe, then it is for me very important that we mention where the law in Europe can lead. However, generally I think it is absolutely inappropriate and wrong to trivialise the Holocaust by setting a fanfiction there. Like the new trend of novels that treat Auschwitz as a tragic backdrop in which characters can self-actualise, such fics show an absolute misunderstanding of what happened, and what was done. It was important for me to acknowledge, in my fic about a kind-of German lawyer battling with the legacies of his lawyer father(figure), that it was Europe’s celebrated legal and infrastructural machinery that made the murder of roughly 7,000,000 people (of whom 6,000,000 were Jewish) possible.

 

Anyway.

He’ll disembark at Bordeaux. A big enough city that the police won’t blink twice at an anonymous body in the treacherous river. He won’t upset anyone – he won’t make anyone he knows discover – it’ll be OK once he gets off the train

The fic starts with Edgeworth on the Paris-Hendaye high-speed rail service, in the midst of a full-blown break with reality.

By poetic licence, the carriage is empty. A last-minute ticket for the TGV on this line, in the evening, in first class (of course) would cost you about €173.00, if not more. Provided you could find one. Jesus!! You can get to Greece (by plane) for that!! 

Why the Basque country? Firstly, I lived near there for a few months and absolutely adored it. The Sea, the cliffs, the people (the people!!) the towns, winding roads, villages, houses all facing the same direction, Saint Sebastian, the language, the rain, the beaches that attract tourists and the constant wind that disappoints them, and again, above all, from everywhere, the Sea, the Sea, the Sea. I use the water as a metaphor in my writing, which is really original and unique of me. Why the Basque country? It’s old, and not German at all, easy to get to, and the seaside towns are very underpopulated during the Winter. A lot of empty houses, empty apartment blocks, and rain from the Atlantic.

The platform at Biarritz is drab and rain-soaked.

You ever get the impulse to stay on the train you’re on, and get off somewhere nicer? I don’t want to get off at Marne-la-Vallée/Chessy. So rainy and cold. And for what! Disneyland!?!? I’d rather be getting off in Avignon [ ;-) ]. This is not what Edgeworth feels, except for it is. I don’t know! He’s in the middle of a breakdown! Those aren’t coherent thoughts he’s having! I wanted to express here how tar-ry depression can be. All of your brain feels heavier, and whatever thoughts you are having are unclear and move like viscous. I imagine, for quick-on-the-draw person like Edgeworth, who may have spent most of his childhood very alert to his guardian’s moods and potential violences, that state is particularly alien. Does he want to die, or does he want to live? It can be surprising, for those who have not been there, how unclear that demarcation can be.

Corrupt.

Also I don’t forgive him the corruption until he decides that he’s going to fix it. It’s very illegal and absolutely morally repugnant, what Lana did to him. It’s absolutely the kind of thing that could mess you up for life, and I imagine would be fertile grounds for a civil case as well as a criminal one. But he’s still in a position of authority. Prisons are evil places in real life, and in Ace Attorney they seem to be mediaeval dungeons with Victorian hard-labour standards. One imagines Genet thriving in the environment. It’s on the prosecutor to think long and hard about what the truth of the matter is. Can we achieve true justice on Earth? Debatable. But Edgeworth’s approach sure isn’t helping!!!

And yet, I think it’s pretty obvious that he does, even at his worst, care about Justice.

At least there isn’t anyone they could call. Not one. The thought is freeing. He used to have Von Karma listed, but his office number, not his personal line.

Not having an emergency contact - it’s very difficult to live that way. You don’t realise how much you need one - pretty much for every job application, pretty much for every club you want to join, and certainly for doctors, dentists, and any other place where you may need insurance. For more on this, read the very beautiful How to Be Alone by Lane Moore.

Von Karma had been total

I hate it when people use political theories to describe interpersonal relationships, and vice versa, because it contributes to petty bourgeois philosophy about government spending and the worst excesses of liberal twitter, but here I present my take on parental abuse. Apologies, as ever, to Hannah Arendt.

He stumbles up the street, to the bright neon promise of an open hotel, its windows reflected in the puddles on the ground.

Anyway, I spent an enjoyable three hours looking for a fancy hotel that Edgeworth might check into. I can’t remember the one I picked but it was very white-plaster light-wood beams, healthy food, open all year round. I think to be truly in-character Edgeworth would go with the Hôtel Palace, which is just as baroque and expensive as you can imagine, but he’s not in character here, as also shown by his eschewing of the SUIT. 

Where does Edgeworth buy his fancy and boring clothes? There is a shopping centre in Gare Montparnasse, where the Paris-Hendaye service originates. So Levi’s for t-shirts, the Kooples, and so on. Some aspects of this fic are so unbelievably thought out, and some are completely symbolic and not realistic in any way. Don’t think too hard about it. 

To skip forward - here is where place Edgeworth visits in Biarritz (Le Rocher de la Vierge):

Places Miles and Franziska were brought as children for educational reasons

And the little village he settles in is one of my favourite places in the entire universe, that is, Guéthary, a little further down the Basque coast.

How gorgeous?!?!? Many a happy cigarette smoked on this harbour. Also a comedically dramatic tumble from a bicycle, ripping the knee of some nice yellow jeans.

For people who aren’t aware, there is ongoing conversation in the Basque country over the topic of independence. The Basque region encompasses some of France’s South-Western coast and also a large amount of Northern Spain. It skewed Republican (good) in the Spanish Civil War (a war so terrible that any amount of reflection upon it will have you pretty much despondent) and as a result suffered heavily when the fascists won. Picasso’s painting Guernica is based on the German bombing of the Basque cultural and market town of the same name. 

Up until fairly recently, this was a conflict, with armed group ETA on one side (pro-independence) and the Spanish police and the Guardia Civil [guilty of war crimes for sure, but no charges] on the other. The EU will not tell you this because they like to pretend there hasn’t been war since 1945. When they say this, they mean “literally tanks sent between France and Germany.” (I’m not anti-EU in principle but I am a mostly unemployed leftist so I have things to critique. To be clear this is not a Brexit support blog).

Philadelphia Story had been his favourite. His father had ruffled his hair and laughed when Miles said so. He said, why am I not surprised. My clever little boy.

Katherine Hepburn forever. Gregory Edgeworth in no doubt as to who his son is.

Larry didn’t like it so much – “Mulan’s for girls” he’d said, and Phoenix had looked down at his hands and agreed, albeit far more quietly than usual.

Miles Edgeworth runs up against male socialisation and it hurts. Also Phoenix lives with his aunt - why? Not for this fic to explore.

Past empty campsites, fields full of luxury white cuboids waiting for May.

Anyway I myself was a campsite worker, poisoning the air of the beautiful small town with my shouted English. Shame on me! I know.

But here, on this cliff - he wasn’t expecting this, either – he thought he’d seen the town’s war memorial – but here’s another one, stones turning their faces to the sea, and it’s blunter – it’s -

If your mother did a master’s thesis on French historical memory of the second world war, please hit me up! We can commiserate together. The effects of this thesis on me are manifold, but one is that I MUST find the war memorial in any town I go to and see who EXACTLY is memorialised. Obviously we have the First World War dead, which is as close to neutral remembrance as you can get in this sphere - and it’s important to look at the length of these lists in small villages and reflect!!!! And then more rarely, and always a much shorter list, you’ll have the lists of the Second World War dead. Usually resistants, but sometimes civilians as well, and generally it won’t say whether they were shot on the street or deported. 

So in Bidart (this memorial is in Bidart) that is not the case. It’s very stark, hence the flashback. My favourite war memorial is in Biarritz because it goes into a lot of detail about deportees &tc.

And speaking of memorials!!! 

This is the memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe on Hannah Arendt Strasse:

And this is the separate memorial across the road to the murdered members of the LGBTQ+ community

Both of these memorials are extremely powerful; Von Karma here weaponises this power to threaten and oppress. Power and aura, for art in everyday life, can be used for both affirmative and negative ends. Memorials to atrocities of this scale are complicated places, and while I think Berlin has done a phenomenal job at limiting the potential for misuse, it is still there. The memorial does not tell you what to think.

Similarly, you have to think about coming into an understanding of your own identity in a world where the visible, public and celebrated elements are monuments to oppression, illness, institutional hatred and . What does it mean to understand your sexuality, religion or gender through displays of public contrition and grief, or as sites of public debate before you understand it as what it means for you and your heart? 

To close out this section, consider the words of Primo Levi:

It happened, and therefore it could happen again; this is the core of what we have to say.

This is why we must reflect on the Law, and on current European fascism, and on current European migration policy. I hope at least that there will be memorials to the people we have lost due to the above.

-

On his mother’s birthday, it rains.

Who is Miles Edgeworth’s mother???? Assumedly just as dead as his father, but why the complete absence from the text? Misogyny, obviously, but why else??? When you think about it it’s a horrifically sad story. Edgeworth wanting to die (more actively than passively at this stage) on her birthday is a detail I added to make it worse!! One imagines she’s buried or memorialised in his hometown. Did they go to her grave? Did Gregory miss her out loud? 

She would have been 60. All the terrible people in the world who reached that milestone.

This is a reference to the fact that Henry Kissinger is !!! Still !!!! Alive ?!?!?!?!?

The ocean revolting against itself and the pure rage of its power

The sea is a neutral force. A neutrality that is still very powerful.

His first thought is I like that bicycle, with the pink streamers on the handlebars.

Edgeworth is starting to recognise his inner child. This will be, in the end, what saves his life, and possibly what saves us all. I once had a therapist that called herself an “early childhood development professional, only one that deals with adults.” She was the best therapist I ever had!! Miles Edgeworth needs to start feeling and healing!! And so do I, and dear reader, probably so do you! Also this scene was written two years before I met this person, but falling off a cliff is a real thing that can happen. I had a coworker that fell off TWO separate cliffs. Excessive? She certainly thought so!

A Portuguese nurse asks if he’s alright as he comes in (what a question) and he tells her no.

Because mental illness is actually quite common and I imagine Edgeworth is underplaying his symptoms, they don’t keep him in for observation like I imagine they probably should. In my country the healthcare system is so broken that they don’t have the money to do things like that, but in France it’s generally efficient and well-funded. What’s going on here? Maybe he doesn’t have his EHIC card or something. Anyway, prozac made me much worse! He should be on sertraline. And then, after all of that - all that agony and humiliation - he’s still just as bad as he was before, worse maybe.

He is fourteen and lying on his back. The parquet rubs cold against his legs

There is no worse age to be in the entire world alive than 14. Is the suicidality already latent in young Edgeworth, or is it that he is looking back with poisoned lenses? 

“Hello, detective.”

You can’t escape!!!!!!!! You may desperately want to - the love of your friends and family can be the most painful and heavy thing, the most awkward burden to bear - but you can’t escape it. Thankfully.

Ride your bike down to the sea and relish in the breeze blowing the hair back from your face.

“9 out of 10 days are slightly disappointing

But on the tenth, you see that light beckoning”

Annika Norlin, “Silent Night”

Transcendence is rare, but it happens. It will happen to you. You will come to a place where you will recognise the beauty around you and inside you, and you will know that you were supposed to make it here. You will not want the mire of mental illness anymore; you will know that you are better when you are freer. 

And then it will go, and you will forget the feeling, but not that you had it. As Elizabeth Bishop says: Somebody loves us all.

The wanting of the bad thing is a strange thing to explain. There’s no such thing as true freedom from it. It is always in the back of your head, there’s always another shoe that can drop, and there will be people and things said to you - Never Quite Free by the Mountain Goats, people, don’t ask me to explain more than that.

In the future, Phoenix Wright will run into the same stretch of sea…

See High Season

he shady tactics (not illegal), the withholding of certain pieces of evidence (not illegal), the decisions on what sentence to push for, and for whom, and when to take a case and when to decide against doing so

Be VERY cautious of prosecutors. I myself am absolutely anti-prison. I don’t see any reason for that kind of barbarity in our world. I can see that not everybody feels that way. But always remember: prosecutors in most of today’s systems are on very good friends with the cops. And the cops are never your friends.

Old man, Edgeworth thinks, old man, I am not ashamed

Edgeworth is gay and now he can say “i am gay” out loud to himself. This kind of brutal repression, that either abusive parents or abusive environments instil, is violence. That is, violence as defined by Johan Galtung: the cause of the difference between the potential and the actual, between what could have been and what is. 

Thank you not-Guéthary! We are moving on!

The Cévennes! Beautiful mountains, barely populated, old old old. And I believe a place where the Maquis (part of the French Resistance) tended to congregate. Resistance… potential changes on the horizon for dear M. Edgeworth. The town that I based this town on is Florac, another stunning location. Best avocado of my entire life. I can still remember that salad, all these years later. And a very lovely skirt, silk, in blue-grey!

Oh my GOD I have got to get back there. I forgot how beautiful it was. I wonder how much rent is. I could finally write my masterwork in peace.

The man at the till, tall and dark, smiles at him

When I was there there were no handsome Spanish men selling books but in all fairness I don’t have any use for handsome Spanish men, so maybe there were some I missed? 

Unusual for a Catholic church to be so unadorned

Edgeworth does not Find Religion here. Pity! I think there are some themes in Catholicism that could help him! Not Catholicism itself, but a few of the ideas within it. Not the devotion bit - he’s maybe had too much of that already.

He liked the moomins too, although he got the feeling the other children in the class would have the same reaction to that as they did to Mulan

I must admit to taking the shame of loving the Moomins as a homage to Philip Pullman, who wrote sweetly about the same thing in an essay which I cannot find (here’s a different one), but nobody picked up on it in the comments and so now I think it’s just plagiarism??? Help!?!

He has a Spanish accent; more Southern than Northern

Javi García Cortes is from Grenada

Von Karma had slapped him, once, hard, across the face

Von Karma physically assaulting him like this is deeply humiliating, and acts as a threat to Franziska as well, though I don’t think he would do the same to her.

The chasm it will open has been a spectre, his life since he was nine years old. The dark at the centre of the spider’s web.

So the “dark at the centre of the spider’s web” is a serious image that I am using seriously, but I was listening to an improv podcast by Paul F Tomkins where “Hans Christian Anderson” is being interviewed, and HE USES THE SAME IMAGE!! But it’s so funny! Truly one of my favourite jokes ever. This is a coincidence, but it’s ruined this paragraph for me.

He was an omnipresent threat of power and violence, and he shaped Edgeworth, gave him purpose and an appreciation for Handel and Bach.

If someone gives you art, knowledge, understanding and education, feeds you - you’re a real person at least partly in their image, and - it’s unbearable, that the person that was supposed to love you and nurture you not only didn’t care enough to do that, but also hurt you, maybe on purpose and maybe by accident. Apologies would never be enough, and Miles Edgeworth does not even have that. I mean, really put yourself in his shoes: you’ve found out that this man who was responsible for your growth and development and your choice of career actually hated you and wanted to kill you and it wasn’t even for anything he thought you did. (And then it turns out your trusted co-workers were responsible for you sending hundreds of people to prison). And then also you’re in the middle of a nervous breakdown and you can’t stop thinking about the last time you were happy. Which was when you were nine years old.

lying on the shore beside Javi García Cortes, who had just kissed him in full view of the road, the best kiss of his life

I love Javi so much.AO3 user Eggybaguette posted this absolutely incredible comment, which is such a good analysis and you’re so smart for this if you’re reading this, like genuinely you are so intelligent. “[Edgeworth] seeing himself, an anonymous body in a river in the beginning, and then letting himself be recognized and experience intimacy in a river with Javi,” as they point out, is an important character progression. It’s also important in terms of borders - rivers and seas are often sites of division. Here Edgeworth is allowing himself to broaden the horizons of what he thinks his body is for. This is also true of the scene where he goes sea-swimming.

He doesn’t get out of bed except to use the bathroom for three days straight

Oh God I forgot how horrible I am to this poor man in this section. Healing isn’t linear!

He loves this movement. He loves the clarinet.

Ah, Mozart’s Piano Concerto no.23 in A Major (K488). Truly I don’t know where this man got his genius from but he understood how to express light in music! The fête de la musique that Edgeworth is attending is an annual event that has musicians play in towns across France. It’s really great! I don’t know how good an orchestra from a tiny rural town would be, but let’s pretend it’s a good one for this.

And it was not The Law that stood in his way.

IS THIS A WHISPER OF REDEMPTION? I have been a sucker for a redemption arc since I recognised a kindred spirit in Zuko from Avatar, and to be honest I am so obsessed with Ace Attorney deciding that was something Edgeworth would probably undergo, but totally off-screen. So what changed? What was the “true meaning of being a prosector?” Is the system broken beyond repair, or can it be fixed? Choose carefully, because if something can be fixed, you might find you have an obligation to fix it… not that Edgeworth is there yet in his emotional journey.

The next morning, he’s feeling pretty bad, but he gets up anyway

HE IS ABLE TO GET UP IN THE MORNING AND FEED HIMSELF!!!!!!! Just as triumphant a moment as running down to the sea imo. This is the hard work of living. 

the teachings he had to impart made a certain amount of sense. They twisted the world around, so that they confirmed your worst fears, and the more you got the more you needed

More Wanting the Bad Thing.

Sometimes the two of them, miserable on the sofa together. Miles went to a lady to talk about it, sometimes, and the way he couldn’t really make friends

It was partly inherited all along :( The thing is sometimes something happens which explains it all, and sometimes it doesn’t, and often it is a combination. Gregory Edgeworth here being an exemplary father, meaning that when he noticed his son was more sad than the usual child he went and tried to sort it out.

Oh God, had nobody – the little boy who would sleep in single bed strewn with books and signal samurai pillowcases – had nobody thought, Manfred Von Karma will damage this child

Where are the child protection systems in Ace Attorney. Mr Phoenix sir I know you care very deeply for Trucy but you can’t just take a child back to your house without some kind of documentation. Von Karma should not have been able to randomly take a child out of his community to a different continent. As John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats says, though, “Take the character seriously.” So if this was the state of the issue - what the Hell would that feel like? Not good! Edgeworth is feeling the grief of realising that childhood and its moral simplicities are over, the fact that he has been forever damaged by his upbringing, and that he will never get to be nurtured by people who loved him. And also there are fifteen years of pain that he has not let himself feel, that are all now demanding their day in court. 

Well. Miles has always cared about justice, fairness, truth (whatever those words really mean for adult lives, there is something very clear and beautiful about a child’s perception of the concepts). Edgeworth is in a position to help with that.

Try and build a life that you would be proud to show to your childhood self. It doesn’t have to be the life that they wanted.

Phoenix cried for the whole thing, pretty much

Phoenix is deep in grief! 

as the river cuts a gash across the continent more political than physical.

Goodbye, Cévennes! I will miss you dearly!! 

But there will be time enough to return. Go on, go on, let the magnets and the engineers carry you forward.

Perhaps there’s something important good and connective about trains, as well? Maybe there is space to redeem ourselves? Maybe if we leave our own interests behind and join in common cause?

I attended the centenary of the 1918 Armistice on a footbridge across the Rhine on the France-Germany border. Then there were lots of jokes about how it was about time for Alsace-Lorraine to go back to Germany, and also tears of relief that such a war hasn’t happened since 1945. If there are no wars between France and Germany for so long then surely more is possible.

Borders are weird places.

“The architecture here is, like, really weird,” Trucy says, eating her solero and looking, unimpressed, at one of the Europe’s greatest achievements. “Is it supposed to look like a spaceship?”

Trucy is right. It is weird. I love it so much. I think Edgeworth is absolutely involved in the European Court of Human Rights. It’s a bit for show, a bit actually effective, and mostly a massive symbol for… something.

While he’s there the law will change, and there will be dancing in the streets.

The Law has enormous power. In the right hands, it promotes human justice, and allows for the truth to be codified. In more mundane light, too, it orders things you hardly think about. A number of years ago, it was revealed that a mix-up on my birth certificate means that I have two available names. It took a while to actually work out what this meant; for a while I thought that I was legally registered under a name that wasn’t mine. It was upsetting! And then for trans people, getting the right name of their birth certs and personal IDs is a concrete affirmation. According to the state and its laws, this is who you are. 

Sharp Objects says: I have returned to my childhood, the scene of the crime. This refers to real crime and also a more abstract one. 

Anyway I have no way to end this. Let me know if you have any questions?

The Prodigal

The brown enormous odor he lived by was too close, with its breathing and thick hair, for him to judge. The floor was rotten; the sty was plastered halfway up with glass-smooth dung. Light-lashed, self-righteous, above moving snouts, the pigs' eyes followed him, a cheerful stare-- even to the sow that always ate her young-- till, sickening, he leaned to scratch her head. But sometimes mornings after drinking bouts (he hid the pints behind the two-by-fours), the sunrise glazed the barnyard mud with red the burning puddles seemed to reassure. And then he thought he almost might endure his exile yet another year or more.

But evenings the first star came to warn. The farmer whom he worked for came at dark to shut the cows and horses in the barn beneath their overhanging clouds of hay, with pitchforks, faint forked lightnings, catching light, safe and companionable as in the Ark. The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored. The lantern--like the sun, going away-- laid on the mud a pacing aureole. Carrying a bucket along a slimy board, he felt the bats' uncertain staggering flight, his shuddering insights, beyond his control, touching him. But it took him a long time finally to make up his mind to go home

-- Elizabeth Bishop

If you liked this, then you’ll LOVE

A Place of Greater Safety by Hilary Mantel

Elizabeth Bishop’s poems, including: Filling Station, At the Fishhouses

The Seasons Quartet by Ali Smith

Angels in America by Tony Kushner

How to be Alone by Lane Moore

The Vichy Syndrome by Henri Russo

Postwar: A History of Europe since 1945 by Tony Judt

If This is a Man and The Truce by Primo Levi 

The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel A. Van Der Kolk

All About Love by bell hooks

Our Lady of the Flowers by Jean Genet

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

Less, by Andrew Sean Greer

Sharp Objects, by Gillian Flynn

The Mountain Goats discography, specifically these songs: Heretic Pride **Never Quite Free Cry for Judas

Can't Get You Out of my Head docuseries by Adam Curtis

22, 25 by Rosemary Valerlo-O’Connell

[specshroom]

BLOOD IN THE WATER꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷

"How much longer?"

Your current patron meekly asks from his seat behind you.

"Not much longer."

You curtly reassure him.

You should be used to these tourists and their consistent whines but it never seems to get less pathetic. You suppose you shouldn't blame them considering the position they've gotten themselves into, although a bigger part of you just couldn't muster up sympathy for people who are dumb enough to find themselves in the middle of a monster infested lake with a complete stranger at the oar.

That thought breaks you form your daydream and you take a moment to stare at the deceptively clam waters below. You stop your slow rows, bring the gondola to a steady halt and turn to your patron.

"This is your stop."

You fasten the large oar to the hull and step towards the man so that you can look down at him properly.

He looks around at the open water, the mist is so thick he can barely see a few feet Infront of his face much less any semblance of land. He looks back up at you and hesitates before speaking,

"I...payed for the full trip."

You shake your head solomly,

"I only said I could get you on the lake...which I did."

You gesture around to the lake that you both are very much on.

"If you want to get to the other side, that's a seperate trip."

You hold your hand out, clearly indicating what you want. The man's eyebrows scrunch, his eyes go from wide with fear to a heated glare and his hands grip the travel bag he's been cradling.

"You can't do that! We agreed!"

He yells and you quickly cover his mouth with your hand as ripples break in the water all around the gondola. As if he just remembered where he is, the man freezes and lets out a little whimper when he hears tiny splashes in the water right next to him. The small boat rocks side to side as the water vibrates, sounding out the life that dwells beneath it.

The water settles after a few moments of silence and you stand again and look down at the quivering man.

"What choice do you have?"

The tourist heaves out a defeated breathe and digs in his bag to retrieve a sack of coins for the rest of the trip. He hands it to you with an icy glare.

"Is that enough for you?"

He hisses, a little quiver remains in his voice.

You give him a look and continue to count your coins. If you're being honest, you expected more from him. The disappointment must show on your face because he looks just about ready to swing at you before you let out a loud whistle.

Just then several claws burst out of the water and grab him. He shrieks as wet scaly hands cling to his shirt. One by one three heads pop out of the water to leer at his now pale face, drained of any colour once his wide eyes meet the inky black orbs of the creatures holding him down. They bare their sharp teeth as talons sink into his skin making him unable to struggle lest they dig further.

His panicked eyes can only follow you as you start plucking valuables from his pockets and rummaging through his belongings.

From the corner of his eye he can see more of these creatures circling the gondola. Waiting.

You sit down with a huff, slightly rocking the boat as you count and inspect your new plunder.

After a few moments you hear low growls that simmer into whines, you peer up at the multiple black eyes staring at you, waiting for the go ahead. The man's blood is already seeping into their claws and they're practically drooling.

You take pity on the poor creatures and with no more than a final glance at the man you let out another whistle and he's instantly pulled from the boat into the water without time to scream. You huff as the water splashes you, as eager as they are it was a pretty good deal you struck with the creatures, you get the valuables and they get dinner.

As you watch the merfolk fight over their thrashing meal you feel a tug on your sleeve. One of the creatures looks up at you from the surface with intrigue. You give them a questioning look and in response they bring themselves higher over the hull to rather boldly nuzzle at your neck.

You huff in amusement and waste no time grabbing their jaw and kissing their cold but soft lips, caressing their wet cheek with your warm hand. They croon at the warm touch and lick into your mouth.

Another one surfaces the water to place kisses on your neck with a few cheeky nibbles as they cling to your clothes to try and bring your body closer.

You fully indulge in the benefits of your agreement with these creatures as the water around you turns crimson.

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷

Some more of this!

[thecrimsondandelion]

Fair by The Amazing Devil reminds me so much of the poem If I Was Dead by Carol Ann Duffy

[woso-dreamzzz]

Big Bed IV

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Sometimes you just need the Big Bed

It was a rough game.

Against a team like France, the games are always tough. They're ranked so highly and they play so skilfully and they run circles around most teams.

Their shots come in rapid fire, one after the other and it's like they're playing with multiple balls because the pressure keeps piling up and up and up.

A corner is where it all goes wrong for you.

One of your midfielders conceded it, a young girl that you're pretty sure plays for Häcken who had to kick the ball out after your defence was caught off guard.

France swing it in.

You can't get a good grip on it, not with all the jostling and pushing in your box but you manage to punch it away.

There's a leg already up though, a dangerously high leg with a knee that cracks into your eye.

The pain is instantaneous and you groan.

Your eyes swells shut quickly. You can already tell a bruise is forming.

It's a straight red card.

No leg should be high enough that the knee is what connects with someone. There should be no high legs regardless but the fact that it's the knee that hits you instead of the foot is pretty dangerous play and the player gets sent off.

You get taken off too. You can barely see out of your other eye. You're no use to the team right now.

You give the armband over to your vice-captain and follow the medics out to get treatment.

You don't have a concussion which is good but you have to sit there with an icepack on your face to make the swelling go down.

"You look rough," Magda says, tilting your head to one side when you come home that night.

This was the last match of your Euro Qualifiers and, honestly, it hadn't really meant much.

Sweden were already through so it's not like your absence from today's match was make or break for the team.

It's nice to be home though even if you still feel a bit unsettled.

You don't know if it's because of your eye or just plain exhaustion but you feel a little out of your skin, like you're sitting at the dinner table but not at the same time.

You're hyper-aware of every part of your body and your stomach swirls uneasily.

But you can push that feeling away, at least for a little while. At least while you eat with your mothers.

It's a good time, mostly. Good food. Good conversation. Good company.

You think you've made yourself feel better, pushing away this fleeting feeling of anxiousness.

It comes back though, like it always does. It creeps up on you like a phantom, waiting until you're alone to pounce.

You stare up at your ceiling.

It's dark out and, even though you took some painkillers, you can swear that you feel your eye throb.

You toss and turn for what feels like hours, unable to settle yourself.

The last time you felt like this, you were at home with Talia. She'd held you and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, a supportive body against yours as you both waited for the feeling to fade.

You feel dangerously unmoored, like you're a boat that's been pushed out to sea with no sails and no oars. You just drift into the darkness as your stomach swirls uneasily.

You sigh, pulling yourself from bed and shoving down the covers.

It's a short walk across the hall to your mothers but your hand freezes on the door handle, suddenly worried that they'll kick you out for doing this.

Your hand hovers, clenching and unclenching around the smooth metal before you close your eyes, resting your head on the door.

You push the door open, slipping inside.

It creaks slightly and Pernille rolls over in bed, voice still rough with sleep.

"Princesse? Is that you?"

"Yes."

"Is something wrong?"

"I..er...I mean no but..." You sigh. "I don't know. Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Even in her sleep addled mind, Pernille can't make much sense of why. "In here?"

"I can sleep on the floor," You say quickly," I just...I don't know. Can I?"

"Don't be stupid," Magda says, awoken by the noise and blunt as ever," You're not sleeping on the floor." She pats the spot between her and Pernille. "Get in."

"Are you sure?"

"Get in. The bed's big enough for all of us."

"I feel like a kid again."

"You are a kid. You're our kid. Get in bed."

It's the best sleep you've had in weeks.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Storms & Sirens - Hyunjin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: merman! Hyunjin x fem! reader

summary: Mermaids are the mystery of the sea, with few humans ever seeing one. You are the dread pirate queen of the Barbados, a legend that a certain merman has always wanted to meet.

warnings: mentions of claws, sharp teeth, webbed hands

"You're the one they call the Pirate Queen aren't ya? the dreaded queen of the sea?”

You stilled as the deep voice carried across the water. You squinted your eyes out at the blue horizon but there was no other ship in sight. Behind you, your crew continued to grunt and heave as they pulled their oars in unison with one another. You and your crew mates had pulled a small dingy from your ship and were making your way to a nearby island for supplies. You feared the summer sun had finally consumed you when you heard the faint sounds of slapping accompanied by a playful laugh.

“Who goes there?!” You shouted, your hand already brushing against the hilt of your haltered sword.

He swims closer, his fins propelling him through the water with ease, he looks up at you with a pair of bright yellow eyes, a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"I've heard so many stories about you, Pirate Queen. They say you're ruthless, cunning, and beautiful. Which one is true?”

Your eyes widen at the sight of sharp teeth and glistening scales that cascade beautifully down a toned chest and abdomen. His tail captured the moonlight with a haunting and hypnotizing shine. Fully embracing the possibility of this gorgeous creature being a hallucination, you decide to indulge it.

“All be true, fish man. All be true.” You spoke proudly, puffing your chest out slightly.

He chuckles, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates through the water. He reaches out a hand, his claws gleaming in the moonlight, and gently touches your arm.

"Fish man?" he repeats, a smile playing on his lips. "I prefer merman, Pirate Queen.”

Your body tenses at the sight of your claws. The feeling of the sharp cartilage scraping across your skin. This was no hallucination. You had never witnessed something so beautiful and so deadly. You look back at your crew but they are still focused on rowing. You glance back down at the merman then to the horizon, where a small piece of land floats just out of view. “See there, merman? We be dockin’ there. Need to replenish food and water. Do you know of the island?”

He nods. "Ah, I know it. Small, uninhabited except for the wildlife. Perfect for pirates to dock unnoticed." He retracts his claws and flexes his webbed fingers. "I can swim ahead, scout it out for you. Ensure it's safe?” He offers; a coy smile still pulling at his lips.

You tilt your head, hesitation blatantly plastered on your face. But you know that pirates before you have sent out less reliable mates to scout ahead. You weighed the options in your head for a moment before giving the mythic creature a firm nod.

he grinned wide, his teeth glinting in the moonlight, then dived beneath the waves. His powerful tail propelled him forward as he swam towards the island. Hours passed as your dinghy finally approached the island. He resurfaced beside the dinghy, water cascading down his scales. He rested both arms on the edge of the smooth grain wood of the small ship. You give him a grateful smile as you and your crew step onto the sand of the beach and pull the dinghy ashore. The sound of the ocean swept through the air. The salt of the sea clung to your hair and clothes. The island's temperature was a scorching difference from the water, causing you to remove some layers of heavier clothing. The soft, white linen shirt that remained billowed in the wind.

The merman dragged himself onto the sand, his tail thrashing behind him. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you, his eyes roaming over your body appreciatively.

"The island is safe, Pirate Queen. No signs of other humans. Wildlife is abundant."

You nod firmly as you can yourself from the intense jungle heat.

“Thank you, merman. I have my gratitude.”

He watches you fan yourself, his gaze lingering on your face before he glances around the beach.

"You could offer me something more than just gratitude, Pirate Queen. Perhaps a token of your appreciation?" He asks, his voice low and husky. "Something to wear around my neck?”

Your eyes sparkle at his request. Now he was speaking your language. Doing a favor for the promise of treasure was something you always understood, even as a child. Your small smile turned to a generous grin.

“Aye. So it's treasure you be after, is it? I may have just what you want.”

You reach into a small sack attached to your hip to reveal a long, gold chain with a large aquamarine pendant dangling from the end. You hold it close to the creature's face. You watch his perfect features contort and change from pessimistic to astonishment. His eyes widen at the sight of the pendant, his pupils dilating. He reached out slowly, his claws retracting as he took the chain from you. "It's beautiful... like the sea," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. He looks back at you, his gaze intense.

He clasps the pendant around his neck, the aquamarine stone resting against his chest. He propped himself up more, his tail swishing against the tide rushing back and forth.

"Now, Pirate Queen, May I request one more reward?”

“More? Greed for treasure will only consume you, merman. Trust me.” You warn, your voice taking a more serious tone.

He leans up close to you, his clawed hand cradling the back of your head.

"A kiss. For a merman who's never known the touch of a human woman, a kiss from the legendary Pirate Queen would be worth more than any treasure." He grinned.

Your brow furrowed and a shiver traveled through your body at the feeling of his webbed fingers on the back of your neck. Your eyes locked onto his as you felt your body instinctively moving closer and closer to his mouth. You fall to your knees into the sand, your faces now inches from one another. The merman leaned down and he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours in a firm, possessive kiss. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as he explores your mouth with his tongue.

“Ah, you taste even better than I imagined.” He breaks the kiss, panting slightly.

You pull back as well, only slightly with his arms still snaked around your waist. You search his face, taking in his ethereal features. The mixture of human and sea swirled around his skin like an intimate dance of creation. Your eyes had never witnessed something so unique, a living, breathing treasure.

“Let me ask you something now.” You whispered. “Do you have a name?”

He tail slaps against the wet sand, his eyes widening with excitement as he parted his lips to speak.

“Hyunjin. My name is Hyunjin.”

You repeat his name, Hyunjin as the sand hugs the two of you in a warm embrace. Hyunjin rests his forehead against yours, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and something else.

“Tell me, what's it like being a legend? Do people worship you? Fear you?”

You ponder for a moment. An intimate moment such as this was not something gifted often to a ruthless pirate like yourself.

“I suppose a bit of both. I've had men desperate to destroy me and to have me in bed.”

Hyunjin’s arms tighten around your waist possessively. He nuzzles your neck, his gills fluttering against your skin.

"Well, I want both. I want to destroy any who dare threaten you, and I want you in my bed, Pirate Queen.”

You moved in again for another kiss. You were sure what made you want to kiss him again. But the taste of him was everything that drew you to this life in the first place. He kissed you back hard. As if you would wash away with the tide if he let you go. The kiss lasted longer than the first. Soon, you heard the familiar boot stomps of your crew mates returning from the hunt. You sighed deeply and stood up from the beach, adjusting your clothes and brushing away the sand.

You helped your mates load the dinghy full of fresh fruits, wild boar and fish. You reluctantly pushed the modestly sized boat back into the ocean and hopped inside. You glanced back at the shore, hoping to see your merman, your treasure. But where the two of you once lay, there was only sand and shells. You turned your eyes back towards the horizon, rolling your shoulders and considering the fact that you may be delusional. When suddenly the recognizable sound of water slapping unevenly against wood caught your attention. You leaned over the edge quickly to see a shimmering face bobbing up out of the waves.

“Where are we off too now, Captain?” Hyunjin hummed softly.

It seemed that you had become his precious treasure as well. And he would become greedy for it.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star

[mewdas]

mdni siren!gojo fucking u full, breeding mention, horror themes, fluffy near the end, blood + wound play (mild), he’s feral stop booing me . 2nd instalment of my jjk monster men series

black, wet and.. cold, so cold, an endless inky blot your ship sat minuscule on, blurry and hazy in a way that made it hard to tell if you were awake or dreaming — fuck, the sting.. that poorly timed cut on your arm kept nagging for attention in the bleak saltwater. it was impossible to decipher exactly which part was on you and when; heavy, suffocating pressure in— no, on your chest, weighing you down or.. latched on, or all at once. teeth in your neck, webbed fingers clinging so hard - wet against wet, you swore you were rapidly bruising every which way. you could tell you were being moved at least, roughly, then soft then back again, a flash of white hair every so often in your bleary vision, half-lidded blue eyes danced with lust and a primal need to consume that peered into your own.

this wasn’t how you envisioned your ships voyage into the uncharted expanse of the great sea, the ‘unknown’, said to be festering with beast and outcasts alike - where the pirates in those endless legends resided; longhook, greybeard, ‘the butcher’, it was a thrill - for someone as adventure hungry as you and your small crew, at least.

you were determined to make a name for yourself; once the ‘dock rats’ of the pirate world, offering to clean up other crews vessels for coin, help haul in a large full fishing net or to keep the gulls away while your temporary bosses ate — mundane, boring. this wasn’t what you were made for, not in the slightest. that’s what your ma used to tell you, too.

at the first whiff of prospect on the salty breeze, you hired up the finest boat — well, perhaps not the finest. it was lined with barnacles and barely had enough space below deck to swing a cat, let alone store the things they’d actually need for the voyage. though you were always remaining undeterred, it was perfect, in your eyes. sure, the sail was a little ragged, or maybe an oar was missing a chunk or.. two — but it was yours! the vessel that’d carry you and your three-man crew into uncharted territory, to finally document the unknown, to prove yourself, to show the world you weren’t just lowly deck-scrubbers or gull-scarers!

really, the problems that arose nearly off the bat should’ve deterred you. ever stubborn, though. they were plentiful and came in swarms, overwhelming being an understatement. before you had even made it past the fabled ‘current of bones’, said to be so strong it sank even the greatest vessels — likely why most went around — you had sprung a leak below deck, one of your men near breaking his ankle rushing to plug it up and bucket the water out post haste.

okay, a minor hiccup..

whether it was leaks, gulls stealing most of your lunches, or that dark shape below the murky waves your men ‘swore they saw’, this whole thing was a far bigger challenge than you had first anticipated, and a good nights rest was well overdue. or, as well a rest you could get on this little wooden buoy you had cashed out on.. all swaying and rocking even with the anchor dropped.

god, nobody tells you how hard and sickening the waves get, or how… creepy the ocean at night really is.

the gentle snores of your crew, settled like sardines shoulder-to-shoulder below deck, was the only thing that accompanied the gentle brush of saltwater against your ships hull - with you propped up above deck, elbows rested on the side as you looked out over the empty expanse. judging by the map you kept rolled in your belt, you were a couple hundred nautical miles from the nearest—

what was that?

everything stops in your mind - frozen still as you wait, wait ever so patiently just to see if that sound you thought you heard is something real. and you fucking hope not, because it was scary, unknown, all.. garbled and almost human, but not quite.

who are you kidding..?

you ease a fraction, palming the stray trickle of sweat from your temple. just the waves. you’ve been out here a bit on the water, couple days now, you’re just.. antsy, it’s fine.

and then you tense again, the colour you swear draining from your face. there it is again, that sound, that.. song? it’s eerily familiar, akin to something you’re sure is from your childhood, perhaps.. something your mother once sang to you as she rocked your little warm form in her arms. but of course, your mother isn’t out here. nobody is supposed to be out here, not like this.

a sudden nudge of the boat startles you from your shock, prone and short of breath when your white-knuckled grip finds the edge of the ship, you’re frantic, senseless as you scan the black depths, even blacker below the soft moons reign. fuck, fuck, there’s nothing - you can’t see anything so there’s nothing. it’s fine and—

and the boat rocks again. it’s a wonder how your men haven’t woken yet. god how you wish they would - how you’d be much braver with them rallied by your side to rid this sea.. thing from your vessel, how you’d all cheer and toss up hefty mugs of too-strong rum in celebration once safe.

but they don’t. they don’t even stir, and you can’t bring yourself to scamper below deck and let this thing just circle without your eyes on it, which is what you think it’s doing. oh— a flash of white beneath the dark, so brief you almost twist yourself up trying to follow it with your head.

and then, you see it. god, you see it. and it’s beautiful, yet so frightening you can feel your pulse hammer away in your throat at the sight of it. two piercingly blue eyes locked onto yours, swirling with mirth and something you don’t dare think about too hard - reflective and deeply intense in the face of the moon. it looks.. almost man, with such a large mass you can only imagine, partially blurred away beneath the endless depths, all white shimmering scales and blue spots. his long strikingly white hair lay slithering down his back in mindless ways, wet and slicking past his finned, webbed ears.

you’re not even sure how long you’ve just been staring at eachother, but you faintly recognise it getting closer, just gradually, and it sets you on edge - really it does, the water giving way for its hulking form. in that maw, now that it’s nearer, you can see delicate pink lips, long white clusters of lash bordering those beautiful blues, glinting jagged teeth hidden away. the blue spots, you make out, are much akin to eyes.. though seem to function quite the same as a tigers markings would — evolved to intimidate and frighten.

the large form is lunging into the side of the ship again, thrashing its tail unabashedly into the side, sending you clinging to the side - fuck! you barely register the searing pain of a gash up your arm as you’re sent dangling off the side, scrabbling to keep yourself out of the depths, away from that. must’ve caught it on one of the barnacles off the side.. shit.

there’s a sudden rush of water, you can feel the entire boat sway with the force of the wave alone, and it’s enough to make your already white-knuckled grip release the wooden side, the sheer temperature drop of the water sucking away your breath before anything else does, like a jolt of lightning through you.

it takes the freezing water to draw your frantic eyes to the blood muddying the water around you - and you only get a fraction of a second to let your mind catch up before the beast is all over you, two large scaled arms finding your shoulders to slam you unceremoniously into the side of your own ship, which groans and creaks in protest.

“not fair.” he’s seething out through jagged teeth and lips that don’t quite seem used to speaking, forget the common language. his breath warm against your ear when he leans in, allowing long, forked tongue up against your ear, ghosting. “naughty.”

you can barely hear him, head spinning and bleary - not to mention the fact he’s speaking to you. your breath is coming in quick gasps, and you can’t help the pathetic little pained sound that spills from your lips when his webbed fingers find your wrist, yanking it up to his pale scaled face to get a long, languid sniff, burying his face into the gash, lapping away at the blood and marking like his life depends on it.

you’re all ow! and wait! but there’s a dark, wavering little part deep in your gut that’s thrilled, brimming with excitement at not only the contact but the discovery!

—fuck! his tongue against your lips quickly snaps you from your thought - and you realise you can soak in the rays of accomplishment later. if this siren allows you a ‘later.’

he has you pinned firm, the jagged wood pressing into your soaked back a painful sting, the odd barnacle snagging your elbow or ankle as you wriggle. the siren, satoru he says his name is between desperate ‘kisses’ — really just him shoving his long tongue past your lips and down your throat — a fact you just barely hold on to, too distracted by the insistent hump of what you can only assume to be his arousal up against your thigh.

“wait, just— mnh-“ you’re spluttering out, body yielding entirely subconsciously, your quivering fingers finding solace on his shoulders, arms slung around his gilled neck like you would a lover, pulling him close in your grasp. god, you feel utterly drunk off his scent, his song, all you can think about is him.

this seems to strike a pleased chord in satoru, grinning a flash of jagged teeth as he releases your shoulders, his sides huffing and second set of gills beneath his ribs allowing him to pant desperately into your warm skin as he pries your legs apart, drooling openly down your already ocean-soaked collarbone. “let me.. in..” he’s hissing into your ear, webbed fingers pointedly finding your clit with an accuracy that startles you.

“oh..” you whine, incessantly rolling your hips into his touch, entirely drowning out the chill of the water around you, or your crew asleep on the other side of the hull as you wrap your legs around his hips, duly noting the thick muscle replacing his legs below his waist, the long finned tail he’s partially using to keep you pinned without his hands.

it’s all you can do to keep yourself spilling into his hand at the chaste little strokes of your clit alone, pulling him so close you can smell the faint waft of fish and blood on him - not that it matters when he’s nudging his pointed tip against your slick slit, growling and huffing like an animal gone wild, seeking the give of your hole - which finally yields with a lewd shlick, your eyes snapping wide when he’s hilted to the base inside your willing cunt, a satisfied little trill of his own sounding into your hair when he sees himself bulging out of your stomach.

satoru can’t keep his attention off the gash up your arm long, nudging and huffing the coppery scent as he ruts his hips up into yours, smooth penis leaking copious amounts of arousal that coat your gummy walls with each push, his claws digging in when he feels you flutter and squeeze along his length. “take.. “ he mumbles into your wound, blood streaking his stark white face, intensely watching yours as it twists and slacks with pleasure all at once.

judging by the strangled choke you give whenever he angles his hips in that specific way, pointed tip seeking out your spongy g-spot like a missile, knocking it again and again and again until you’re mindless on his cock, head tipped so helplessly into the back of the hull, back arching up into him like his dick was a lifeline and you were drowning. “oh- please-!”

and christ he’s cumming just as you are, claws drawing angry marks down your soft back, teeth sank into your neck with a feral choke, growling heavily through the blood seeping onto his tongue like syrup, his hips stuttering into your cunt as each heavy spurt of velvety heat finds sanction deep in your greedy womb - sending your eyes rolling.

it feels like forever until he’s sated, finally pulling away with a pleased chuff, big blue eyes searching your face desperately, as if seeking approval - the hungry, wild look in them replaced with an almost fond little glint as he thumbs away some blood from your chin, a wide grin spread over his face.

“you.. carry pups, mine.” satoru nods eagerly, palming hair from your eyes as he lofts you out of the water by your armpits, holding your spent form up like a prize won from a carnival game.

“…the fuck?” you hear from above you, the distinctive voice of one of your men, laced with disbelief. oops?

— ⚓️

holding him up by the scruff like a dog to show all of u . planning to do more fics on siren gojo i’ll be honest . i’ll say it . my friends gave me some real cool ideas and they’re sssoo super cute,, stay tuned

[yui-onnero]

Listening to Love in Paradise on repeat, you cannot tell me this man has not tried to escape multiple times. Just listen to how he sings (first meeting), it just screams, "How can I get out of this, how do I get out of this, what can I do to get out of this, GIMME MY WIFE-"

Like, the idea popped into my head that he would've probably tried to built a boat/raft and an oar or two to escape and Calypso was just amused by his attempts since she was just gonna snach him up again. Yes, she'd be a bit hurt, but she'd admire his attempts for trying.

(After another failed attempt to take a raft off the Island, Calypso walks him back to the cabin.) Odysseus: (murmuring) I was so close... Calypso: Yeah, good job! You managed to finish the raft and oar this time and got a good amount of distance off shore! (it was really only a couple yards) That's pretty impressive! Odysseus: (eyes narrowed) Not good enough it seems... Calypso: (blinks a few times before responding) As much as I admire your efforts, you should just relax in my paradise! We have forever after all! Why don't you just rest inside my paradise? Odysseus who frowns softly and looks sad and slightly defeated because he just wants to go to his wife and son-

But you already know he's trying again eventually.

(Until he gives up and tries to commit suicide 7 years later-)

And of course I finish writing this after almost crying a few times at the ending of the song-

[k-nayee]

Wife to the Winds Epic: The Musical | ii

wc: 3.5k a/n: yeah I'm sorry y'all. I'm, a slow updater/editor. But I'm getting faster and better! Here's the animation for this part

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

recap

"You truly believe you can ensure my safe passage home? After everything?"

"With all my heart..."

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The salty tang of the sea clung to your hair as you followed Odysseus back to the creaking ships. The satchel against your hip jostled with every step, containing all of your life ever since the ambush of your village.

Midway through readying the ship for their long-awaited return, the men around fell silent as Odysseus approached.

Murmurs rippled through the crew as they watched their battle-scarred leader approach, a stranger by his side.

Reaching the center of the gathered crowd, Odysseus raised a hand for silence. A hush fell over, their gazes flitting between you and their captain.

"This one!" he boomed, aura carrying the authority of a seasoned leader, "is under my is under my protection. Do not lay hand upon her, show her the respect you may give to me."

Glances flicker towards you and stare intently, their faces etched with curiosity and a hint of something...more.

What it could be? You don't know, but you refuse to show it. Even riddled with fear and wary, you held your head high, posture radiating confidence.

That's when the whispers reached your ears: "A goddess, perhaps?" one muttered. "Sent to test us," another added, a hint of reverence lacing his voice.

'Wait...what?' You blink at this. Looking closer, you realize they are staring at you in awe, not lust.

You steal a peek at Odysseus, but his face remained impassive, any amusement he might've felt hidden.

'A goddess huh?' Your lips twitch, a snort of disbelief threating to escape your lips. Seems Odysseus initial shock towards you wasn't a one man reaction.

"Men!" attention is brought once more to the King of Ithaca.

"We have weathered storms. We have battled and sacrificed. Yet, victory lies within reach. Today," he brings a fist up to the heavens. "we begin our journey home!"

Cheers erupted from them, collective roars of relief and anticipation.

The rest of the day was a blur of activity: sails unfurled, oars readied for rowing—image of home ever the motivator.

Days bled into weeks, the endless blue horizon and rocking of the ship becoming your new normal.

The crew remained wary, interactions limited to curt greetings and exchanges. Your only solace came from occasional conversations with Odysseus and surprisingly, both Eurylochus and Polites.

Speaking of which, a tense discussion was brewing near the stern. Eurylochus, his weathered face etched with worry, was locked in a heated debate with the king.

"Six hundred mouths to feed," Eurylochus stressed, frustration coloring his voice, "and our supplies are dwindling! We may not make it far, we are running on fumes!"

Polites, ever the diplomat, step forth in hopes of calming the second in command. "We'll find a way, Eurylochus. Odysseus is a resourceful man—"

"Look!" Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by Odysseus himself, his gaze fixed on the sky.

You follow his line of sight, spotting a flurry of birds flying into the distance. Your brow raise at that, catching on to his proposal.  

"We watch where they go, and there we will hunt for food." Giving a firm nod, Eurylochus began giving new orders.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Hours had pass, soon the Sun going down leaving the stars and moon as your only source of light.

"Captain!" Polities' cry breaks you out of your daily/night inventory checkup. "There in the distance: I see a light faintly glowing."

You quickly stuff everything back into your bag, rushing over to stand next to the Greek warrior and see for yourself.

He turns and gives you a bright grin, lightly bouncing on his feet. "Maybe it's a village lighting a fire? Who knows! They might even share some food."

"No." Odysseus shakes his head. "No, somethings not right. I see fire...but there's no smoke."

Eurylochus scoffed. "Let's raid the place and be done with it!" he barked, his hunger overriding caution.

Odysseus narrowed his eyes. "No," he countered, his voice firm. "There must be another way, one that doesn't involve bloodshed."

"Captain you can't be serious, we don't know of the danger's ahead! A—"

"Just!...just give me until sunrise," Taking a glance at the awaiting crew, his voice lower in attempt to quell their bloodthirst knowing just speaking of potential fighting would set them off. "And if we don't return, burn this place to the ground."

Odysseus turns to Polities, gesturing towards the approaching island. "Polites, gear up. We'll scout ahead."

"Yes sir!"

"I'm coming with you!"

The mortal king's head snapped towards you, frown creasing his brow. "Absolutely not."

Your voice rose in protest. "B-but I can help! I'm a fast learner. My skills..."

"There will be no debate," he states, voice leaving no room for argument. "The men are weary. They need their rest. You will stay and watch over little Ajax."

Anger welled in your chest as your teeth gritted. You storm off, the sting of rejection burning in your eyes.

Being reduced to babysitting(once again) felt like an insult to your abilities. You couldn't help but pout in disappointment as you watch the two sail step off the ship, crossing your arms with a glare.

The rest of the night crawled by, the time made longer from your simmering resentment.

It was sunrise when Odysseus and Polities returned, their faces were painted with apprehension.

"We've been told of a cave with food in the east!" he said "enough to last us on our journey back to Ithaca, even extra to spare."

You perk up at the news as men were called to arms. Pushing your way into the forming group, you stand before Odysseus who releases a heavy sigh upon seeing your wide grin. 

"Perhaps I can help assess the situation? My knowledge of—"

"We have enough help," he holds up a hand, silencing you with narrowed eyes. "You stay here with Ajax. Guard duty."

You bite your tongue to keep your anger from saying something disrespectful.

Taking a deep breath, you clasp your hands in a pleading motion. "Please. Just let me help. I-I can gather herbs, o-or even tend wounds..."

"There'll be no wounds," Odysseus says curtly. "We'll be in and out, quick and quiet."

And with that, he and his newly gathered group of men began venturing east in search of food.

Though your fists clenched in fury, you knew better than to disobey Odysseus directly. Instead, you waited, a plan forming in your mind.

It was then upon spotting the ever-cautious Ithacan Eurylochus right as he prepares to leave and catch up with the main group, an idea sparks.

You quickly approach him in determined strides. "Eurylochus, there isn't any proper medical supplies on board. I'm sure the men will gain injuries on their quest for food. And for that, I will need to go and get more herbs." 

Eurylochus barely glanced in your direction, more focused on ensuring his weapons are tied on correctly as he gives a dry chuckle. "Injuries huh? I'm sure medicine won't be needed for a little wound."

"You sure about that?" Offput at the chilly tone of your voice, he looks up only to be taken aback at the emptiness of your gaze. "Even the mightiest of warriors have fallen, crossing the River Styx from a mere scrape."

A tremor of unease ran through Eurylochus. He cleared his throat, the bravado gone

"Alright," he conceded, "but if anything goes wrong..."

"There won't be anything wrong!" you assured him quickly, smile bright and innocent as if you hadn't just traumatized this man.

Gesturing two nearby men to come over, Eurylochus gives you one final look. "Now, I'm trusting you to get what you need and get out. This is Lycus and Alexander; they will watch over you, so stay close. Understood?"

You bobbed your head enthusiastically, already launching into a flurry of excited instructions for your temporary bodyguards.

Eurylochus couldn't help but shake his head and sigh as he turned to leave. "Gods...Odysseus is gonna kill me..."

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The moment your feet touched the shore, a thrill shot through you. The air hummed with an unfamiliar energy, and the vibrant foliage swaying in the gentle breeze.

Years of training under your mother's watchful eye kicked in: You recognized the landscape instantly—the lush vegetation, the specific types of trees—everything she taught echoing in your mind.

Unlike Odysseus and his men trampling path, or the impatient stomping of your guards, you carefully navigated the undergrowth with practiced grace; steps light and sure.

Awe filled you as you surveyed the diverse flora. You stopped every so often, meticulously collecting samples in your satchel, murmuring a silent thank you with each pluck.

A memory flickered from your childhood's countless foraging trips; your mother kneeling beside you in a sun-dappled meadow as her hand gently guides yours. "Plants are lives of their own...they are deserving of respect, as would any other being."

Too caught up in reminiscing the past, you miss it when your small group stumbled into a clearing.

It wasn't until you noticed the men behind you stopping themselves did you pay attention to your surroundings.

There, in the center of the area was a group of figures. Their faces were serene, eyes filled with an otherworldly light.

You couldn't help but look at them in awe, tales heard over the years could never measure up to the—

The sound of drawn weapons snap you out of it.

"W-wait!" you cry, darting forward and placing yourself between the armed men and the peaceful Lotus-eaters. "Lower your weapons! They mean no harm."

Lycus, a gruff soldier with a gnarly scar on his cheek to match, scoffs. "They could be a threat, best get rid of them while we can" he grumbles, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.

Undeterred, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze.

"And as I said, they mean no harm. Pose no danger Look at them!" You gestured towards the Lotus-eaters, some of whom were staring at you with wide-eyes, others seemingly lost in a blissful daydream. "They wouldn't hurt a fly."

A tense silence hung in the air. The men exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of how to react.

 You pressed further, lowering your voice conspiratorially. "Besides. I'm not moving, and Odysseus wouldn't be too happy if I got hurt...now would he?"

The mere mention of the formidable leader caused the men to flinch, images of Odysseus' fearsome wrath flashing in their minds.

Lycus grunts in defeat. "Fine." Reluctantly sheathing his weapon, Alexander follows suit in a mixture of annoyance and grudging acceptance.

The Lotus people seemed captivated by the scene unfolding before them. Their gaze remained transfixed on you, faces filled with a strange mix of curiosity and wonder.

You turn and offer them a warm smile, disarming the Lotus-eaters completely. Their gaze remained fixed on you, captivated not just by your courage and kindness, but also by your beauty. 

Unlike the warriors who had come earlier, bristling with aggression, you approached them with an open heart of respect and curiosity.

And they knew this...from the moment you stepped into the forest, you were being watched after all.

So watchful of those who arrived on their island, the Lotus-eaters had seen everything: your reverence for the plant life, your gentle touch as you collected herbs—it spoke all that was needed.

They felt—no, they knew your heart held no malice. So that's why they had no problem answering any question you asked.

Meanwhile, the men assigned to guard you grow bored from the lack of conflict. They began to talk to each other, attention drifting away from their assigned duty.

After all, you seemed perfectly safe surrounded by these serene beings.

Encouraged by your gentle demeanor, one of the Lotus-eaters hesitantly approach you. He's tall, a crown of woven leaves sitting on top of his curly-hair.

Shy and gentle eyes meet yours. A tranquil smile is etched on his face as he holds out a strange bulbous fruit within his cupped palms, its surface pulsating with an otherworldly glow.

You recognize it instantly for its legendary intoxicating properties, accepting the Lotus fruit with a grateful smile.

Knowing the dangers of the Lotus and its ability to induce a blissful forgetfulness, you carefully stow it away in your satchel.

The Lotus-eaters trill in content, their voices all speaking at once in a wave of pitches.

Straining to hear what they were saying, you slowly make out some of the words drifting through the air.

"...giant..." one voice rasped, low and conspiratorial. "...big as a mountain..." another chimed in.

You pause, a flicker of unease taking root in your stomach. 'Did I just hear that right?...'

"Excuse me," you began, your voice dropping to a hushed tone, "but I couldn't help but overhear something about a... giant?"

They eagerly nod, their excited chatter confirming your worst suspicions.

The Lotus-eater from earlier locks eyes with you. You sense a flicker of concern flash across his glazed eye before murky sereness takes place once more.

He spoke, voice deep and whimsy. "The one-eyed giant in the east? He owns most of the sheep,  calls himself Polyphemus..."

'Giant...sheep...cave...east...that means—' when the pieces clicked in your mind, dread coiled in your gut. Odysseus and his men...trapped with a monstrous cyclops?

This was a disaster.  You needed to get away, and fast.

Glancing at the warriors, still lost in their own world of boredom, a devious plan began to form in your mind.

You turn to the group of Lotus-eaters and lower your voice further.

"Listen," you began, urgency lacing your tone, "there's something really really important I need to get from the cave in the east."

You give a nudge towards the lounging duo guards. "Those men who came with me wouldn't understand. Plus they're not very nice...they've been nothing but mean and unhelpful!"

The Lotus-eaters exchanged glances. Even with their peaceful demeanor they could sense your worry.

"What do you want us to do?" the crowned Lotus-eater asked, his voice laced with alarm.

A large grin stretched across your face.

"Pretend to kidnap me!" you declared, barely able to contain a giggle. "Take me to the cave. There, I can handle the rest."

Their faces broke into wide smiles. Now this was a game they understood.

A Lotus-eater with eyes the color of the sky, clapped her hands in delight. "Oh that sounds fun!"

Before you could even blink, half of the group erupted in a playful ruckus of shouts and laughter; hurling small rocks branched leaves at the warriors.

The men sputtered in confusion as nearby plants and vines creeped down and snatched their weapons, leaving them flabbergasted and unarmed.

"What in Hades—" Alexander exclaims, eyes wide with confusion as his sword was yanked from his grasp by an unseen force.

Now for your part.

Taking a deep breath, you let out the most dramatic, exaggerated scream you could muster. "Help! Oh no! They are taking me! What ever shall I dooooo!"

The distracted guards turn in time to see the other half of the Lotus-eaters scoop you off the ground. You kicked your legs playfully, still crying out in mock distress. "No! Oh no! Let me go! Someone, save meeeeeee!"

As Lotus-eaters began moving to the cave, you grimace when realizing a little too late of your lack of fighting back and reaction to being taken. 'I hope they didn't see right through me. Probably should've acted a little more afraid.'

"H-hey!" You turn back to see Lycus' stressfully looking in your direction as he tries to dodge the sticks and stones, "They're kidnapping her!"

"We must save her!" Alexander chimed in, his panicked filled voice reaching your ears before you disappear into the foliage.

You blink in disbelief at their gullibility. 'Nevermind...'

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The further you were carried away from the clearing, the more the sounds of chaos faded into the background.

When you finally reached a safe distance, they gently set you down.

Once brushing off your clothes and looking around you immediately notice the Lotus-eaters brought you to the side of a mountain.

'Where's the cave...?' Confusion flickered across your at face as you try to understand why you where there instead.

Seeing your puzzled expression, the crowned-Lotus eater stepped forward with a gentle smile.

"We brought you to a secret passage," he explains softly, "It's a hidden way that leads to where the sheep are kept. The giant one may find you at the entrance, but this path is safe."

He gestures towards a cluster of branches and vines. Pushing them aside, he reveals a human-sized crack in the mountainside before letting dense foliage fall back over the cleverly concealed hole.

A warm smile spreading across your face at their concern and attempt for your safety. "Thank you!"

Leaning forward, you stand on your toes to place a soft kiss on the forehead of the crowned-Lotus eater who's been your main communicator of the time.

His cheeks flushed a deep scarlet red as he giggled, his companions joining in with flushed faces and shy smiles of their own.

"Good luck," he whimsically mutters, still blushing.

With a nod, you turned towards the secret passageway. Your heart pounds as you carefully push aside the branch and vines and squeezed through the opening.

The rough stone walls loomed around you as distant noises faintly echo in the background.

Air growing cooler and damper with each step as you ventured deeper inside, it wasn't until then did the faint sounds became clearer—multiple voices talking and sounds of sheep scuffling around. 

You pause at the edge of the cave, listening intently.

"Over here!" At the sound of Odysseus' commanding and calm voice, you immediately peek around the corner.

The first thing you're met with is an abundance of food and resources scattered all around: Jugs of wine stacked neatly against the walls, expensive cloths rich in color and texture, to even golden chalices and cups that gleamed in the torch-light cave.

And the sheep.

There were so many! So much, a few roaming ones were so close that you could feel the softness of their wool if you just reach out to tou—

Your nose scrunch up in disgust as a pungent wave of musk, grass, and a hint of manure hits you. 'Ugh...don't smell as cute as they look. That's for sure.'

Looking past the sheep, your body almost instinctively relaxed as you saw no signs of dead bodies or a murderous Cyclops.

Instead, you spotted the King of Ithaca standing alongside his 2nd of command and friend, onlooking as the other men got to work.

"Odysseus! Look at all this food...a-and all of these sheep!" Polites exclaims, you could even make out his bright smile all the way from here. "I can't believe it! This cave, it has all this for us to keep."

Eurylochus stood a few feet away, a begrudging nod of acceptance as he keep watch of the soldiers as they slaughter sheep and prepare to carry them to the ships. "I've gotta hand it to you both, this is quite the treat. More than enough sheep here to feed the entire fleet."

"Hmmm. I'm not sure. Looks too perfect, too good to be true." Odysseus seemed unconvinced. He shifted on his feet, glancing around as unease began seeping into his bones. "Why would the Lotus-eaters pass up on all this food?"

'Okay!' You take a step back, readying yourself for the potential scolding you most definitely were going to get for leaving the ship. 'You can do this...'

He sounds worried enough, so maybe he won't be too mad?

Taking a deep breath, you straighten you back and take a step out to greet the— 

"WHO ARE YOU?" A deep, rumbling voice echoes through the cave, making everyone freeze in their tracks.

Popping your head back around the corner, the blood drains from your face once you see the Cyclops.

Odysseus steps up with a confident smile. "Hey there! We're just travelers." He waves to the giant and motion to the others. "We come in peace."

The cyclops says nothing at first. He's monstrous, frame towering above so high you could barely make out his features—a single eye glowing menacingly in the darkness as it glared down at the Spartan warriors.

"YOU KILLED MY SHEEP. MY FAVORITE SHEEP. WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DEAL A PAIN SO DEEP?"

You stumble back with a soft gasp and try to calm your racing heart. Your mind raced as you tried to figure out what to do.

"TIME TO DRINK—YOUR BLOOD OVER WHERE YOU STAND. YOUR LIFE NOW IS IN MY HAND."

Recalling the tales and stories of the cyclops' favored weapon (a massive club), you knew it was only a moment of time...

"BEFORE I'M DONE, YOU WILL LEARN THAT IT'S NOT SO FUN TO TAKE. YOU CAME TO MY HOME TO STEAL, BUT NOW YOU'LL BECOME MY MEAL."

Your hand flickered down to the weight in your satchel. With trembling fingers, you rummaged through it.

A Lotus fruit and bundle of dried Nepenthe and Poppy herbs are pulled out the bag, now in your hands. 'Please Gods....please. This has to work...'

"A TRADE, YOU SEE? TAKE FROM YOU LIKE YOU TOOK FROM ME."

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Finding Eddie Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - After a long day of trying to find Eddie, you, Steve, your brother, Robin and Max all find your way to Reefer Rick's house where the time finally comes to tell the truth to your ex-best friend. Word Count - 2.8k Warnings - Language, but that's it! Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

You could feel it in your gut. Eddie was here. While you hadn’t been in his life much in the past year, you had been best friends since middle school before that, and this is the last place that you could think of that he would hide. You eased the door open to the boathouse, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

“Is he in there?” 

“Shit!” You jumped, turning around to slap your brother in the arm. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

Dustin gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry.” 

You turned back to the door, opening it up the rest of the way without worrying about being quiet. After all, Dustin had ruined any hope of that. It looked as you expected, a mess, but there was no obvious sign of Eddie yet. 

“Maybe he’s not here?” Steve said, walking up behind Dustin and glancing around the room. 

“Or he’s hiding.” You said, unwilling to believe your only lead to finding him was a dead end. “Come on. Let’s take a closer look.” 

Steve nodded, holding his arm out to make you let him go first. You rolled your eyes, but followed behind, with Dustin, Robin and Max next. “Hello! Anyone home?!” Robin called as she used her flashlight to sweep the room. 

No one answered. 

“What a dump.” Steve said, looking around. After a couple of moments walking around. Steve turned his flashlight off and reached out to grab an oar from the wall. You watched as he then started stabbing the covered boat in the middle of the room. 

“What are you doing?” Dustin asked before you could. 

Steve continued to poke the boat. “He might be in here.” 

“So lift the tarp!” Dustin said. 

“You’re so brave, you take the tarp off!”

You rolled your eyes at their ridiculousness, and continued sweeping the room, catching up with Max and Robin, who were looking down at something. You glanced at the food wrappers they were observing, and your heart leapt into your throat. “He’s been here.” You said, and when Max and Robin looked at you, you continued. “That’s his favorite snack.” 

Robin shrugged. “Maybe he got spooked and ran.” 

“Don’t worry. Steve will get him with his oar.” Dustin said. 

Good God. These two would be the death of you. 

“I know you think you’re being funny, but considering everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally I don’t find it funny in the slightest-”

Everyone in the room leapt back in shock as Eddie burst out from the boat, and you realized with horror, started after Steve with what looked to be part of a broken bottle. “Eddie!” You ran towards the man who now had your boyfriend pinned to the wall and grabbed the arm that was holding his makeshift weapon. “Eddie, stop!” You tried to tug his arm away from Steve’s neck, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s Steve! He’s not going to hurt you!” Eddie wouldn’t even look at you and panic started rising in your chest. Oh god. What if he was possessed by something from the Upside Down? 

“Steve, why don’t you drop the oar, show Eddie you’re not going to hurt him.” You heard Dustin say behind you. 

“Right, yeah.” Steve nodded, but as soon as he did, it caused a loud crash that startled Eddie, making him put the bottle closer to Steve’s neck. 

“Eddie!” You pulled hard on his arm when Steve groaned, but it was useless, he wouldn’t back off. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked, and you felt the slightest hint of relief that at least his voice sounded normal. 

“We’re looking for you.” Dustin said. 

“We’re trying to help you!” You added, glancing over at him and then Steve. “But I can’t help you if you hurt him, Eddie.” You said, and at those words Eddie turned to look at you. “Please.” You implored, giving his arm a squeeze. “Let us help you.” 

Eddie stared at you, a stare that pierced your very soul, and you were reminded once again of how much history the two of you shared. How many years of friendship that you had both thrown away for a stupid fight. A fight that you regretted every second of. “You want to help me?” He asked, and you had the feeling he wasn’t asking about everyone else. No, he was asking about you. 

You didn’t hesitate a second to respond. “Of course I do.” You reassured him, and then glanced back at Steve. “As soon as you let him go.” 

He turned back to Steve, and you watched with bated breath until Eddie shoved Steve back and moved away. You rushed forward and grabbed him around the waist with one arm, your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek for a moment before brushing back the hair from his face. “Are you okay?” You asked him, biting your lip as you looked him over. 

Steve nodded, and glanced over at Eddie as he sank to the ground. “Do you think he’s himself?” Robin joined the two of you while Dustin went to go sit with Eddie. 

Thinking about it for a moment, you nodded. He was stressed, panicked, terrified, but he was Eddie. “He’s scared.” You said, looking at him and Dustin again. 

Steve stared at you, reading your expression, and then pointed his head in Eddie’s direction. “Then he could use a familiar face.” He said, reaching out to touch your waist. “You should go to him.” 

You looked back and forth between the two of them. You wanted to go to Eddie, but you didn’t want to leave Steve either. 

Steve squeezed your waist again. “I’m okay. It’s okay. Go.” 

Your heart swelled with emotion at the unselfish action, and leaning forward, you placed a lingering kiss against his cheek then headed to join Dustin and Eddie on the ground. 

“You know, it’s ironic that you were the one so worried about getting murdered, and you’re also the only one who ended up with a bottle to their throat.” You heard Robin tell Steve. 

“Shut up,” Steve said, sounding exasperated. 

You took a moment to glance over at Eddie, studying his body language. He clung to his makeshift weapon with shaking hands, and he was collapsed in on himself, almost as if he was trying to make himself smaller. He wasn’t looking at either you or Dustin, but his eyes were wide, almost as if memories were playing over and over inside his mind. You’d never seen him like this. Eddie has never been afraid to be himself, very few things fazed him, but this? This had. “Eddie, we want to know what happened.” You said, trying to catch his gaze again. 

He looked at you, letting out a sniff. “You won’t believe me.” 

God did he really think that? After all the two of you had been through together? 

But Max answered before you could. “Try us.” 

The story he told made you sick to your stomach. You couldn’t imagine seeing something like that in person. The horror of the image he painted in your head was bad enough. You looked over at Dustin, and his expression told you that the two of you were sharing the same thought. Whatever had happened to Chrissy . . . Something from the Upside Down was behind it. 

“You all think I’m crazy right?” Eddie said when he was done, covering his face with his hands. 

Dustin shook his head. “No, we don't think you’re crazy.” 

But Eddie didn’t believe you. “Don’t bullshit me man! I know how this sounds.”

 The emotion in his voice broke your heart a little, and despite your earlier thoughts, you couldn’t help but almost wish Eddie was back in his naive bubble, not having a clue about the danger surrounding him. At this point though, you knew he’d never be able to go back to that. 

“We’re not bullshitting you.” Max said. 

“We believe you.” Robin added. 

Eddie just shook his head, and Dustin glanced over at you, signaling you were up. 

The feeling in your stomach of wanting to throw up intensified, but you knew you couldn’t hold back the words any longer. He had witnessed it. He had a right to know now. “Eddie . . . I’ve been keeping something from you for two years.” 

That got his attention. He stared at you, hanging onto every word you were saying. 

“Remember junior year when I got that concussion and wound up in the hospital? And senior year when you saw those bruises on my neck and ankles?” Eddie nodded, and you saw him glance up at Steve. You knew he had always thought some weird connection between Steve and you had started to form senior year, and now he was connecting the dots of how it might have come to be. “I was kinda fighting creatures from an alternate universe.” You bit your lip and nodded to the rest of the people around you. “With all of them. Well, not Max, until senior year anyway. Or Robin, she came along this past summer when the mind flayer came back and destroyed the mall but-” the expression on Eddie’s face told you that you had said too much way too quickly. “The important thing is, we think whatever you saw happen to Chrissy . . . We think it was something from this alternate dimension. We call it the Upside Down.” 

“How - how the hell does that even happen?” Eddie asked, his brow furrowed. 

Dustin spoke up then. “Sometimes this dimension . . . It bleeds into ours.” 

Eddie still looked confused. “You mean like ghosts and shit?” 

“There are some things worse than ghosts.” Max said, and you wished you didn’t agree with her. 

“These monsters, from this other world, we thought they were gone, but they’ve come back before.” Dustin said. 

“And that’s one of the reasons we needed to find you. We had to see if they were back again.” You told him. 

Robin, Dustin and Max continued to probe Eddie with the sights you usually associated with the Upside Down, but he just shook his head, denying that he’d seen anything of the sort. You wished it meant that it wasn’t something, but when he described how he tried to wake Chrissy, one thing kept popping up in your head. 

“It sounds like she was under a spell.” Dustin said. 

“Or a curse.” Eddie said. 

You shared a glance with Dustin again, and then Eddie, realizing all three of you were thinking the same thing. “Vecna’s curse.” You said. 

“Who’s Vecna?” Steve said, speaking up for the first time, and you turned to him, trying not to let the panic show on your face, but from the way his body tensed, you knew he saw right through you. 

“An undead creature of great power.” Dustin answered. 

“A spell caster.” Eddie added. 

“A dark wizard.” Dustin finished. 

Silence filled the room as everyone absorbed this new information. It was almost too much to take in, especially in one night, and if your mind was spinning, you couldn’t imagine what Eddie’s must be doing. The guilt inside of you from keeping this secret for so long came roaring back to life, and you started to speak. “Eddie, I’m sorry, I should have told you-”

“You guys should get going.” He interrupted, standing up and pointedly not looking at you. “No use in all of us being stuck here all night.” 

You hesitated. “I feel like someone should stay behind with you just in case -”

“I’ve been doing fine on my own Henderson. It’s one night.” Eddie said, looking out at the lake. 

Everybody agreed, and while part of you wanted to stay behind, he clearly didn’t want that right now. “We’ll bring you some supplies tomorrow okay? Food and stuff.” You promised. 

He did turn to look at you then, but all he did was nod. 

It almost hurt worse than the fight did. You found yourself holding back tears as you all walked back to Steve’s car. Moments later though, you felt an arm slip between yours and looked over to find Robin, giving you an encouraging smile. 

You gave her a small one in return, resting your head on her shoulder until all of you made it back to Steve’s car. 

————————

When Steve pulled up to your house to drop Dustin and you off, it was safe to say all of you were exhausted. You let Dustin go ahead of you, pausing by Steve’s side as he got out of his car as well. His hand reached out to touch your waist, his thumb rubbing against your skin. Neither of you said anything for a moment, watching Dustin head into the house. “Window?” He asked, bringing his eyes back to yours. 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Steve gave you a small smile, giving your waist a squeeze before climbing back in his car and going to park it in his usual hiding spot. 

While he did that, you went inside, covering your sleeping mom with a blanket, checking to make sure Dustin was going to bed, and changing into an old sweater of Steve’s just as there was a tap on your window. 

No sooner than Steve had both feet firmly planted in your bedroom were your arms around him, and you finally allowed yourself to let out the tears that had been pushed down all day. You knew you could let them out now that you were in your safe place. 

“I got you.” He said at once, one of his hands settling on the small of your back while the other cupped the back of your head, swaying you back and forth as you tightened your grip around him. 

“I’m all over the damn place.” You admitted against his skin. “I feel guilty for not telling him earlier, but then I don’t because he got to live two years not knowing that place existed. Then I can’t help but wonder if things would be different if he had known about it. He’s so upset that I lied to him Steve, and I can’t blame him for that. I know I would be the same, but at the time I thought it was the right thing to do. Then I feel even more guilty for being worried about our friendship when at any moment it could be announced that he’s wanted for murder which is a much bigger deal. And an even bigger deal is Vecna because God if he’s real, we don’t-”

“You’re doing that thing again.” He pointed out. “That thought spiral thing.” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of your head, no doubt trying to distract you, and you let out a little sigh at the affection before pulling back to look at him. 

“Tell me how terrible and self centered I am.” You said. 

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” Steve replied, shaking his head. “One because you’re being bossy, and two, most importantly, because you’re not.” You let out a groan and buried your face in his neck again. “Munson got a lot of information thrown at him tonight. Give him some time to process. I’m sure he’ll come around.” 

“But what if he doesn’t?” You murmured. 

Steve’s fingers ran through your hair, and you closed your eyes at the calming sensation. “The guy was your best friend for years. Gotta believe there’s some good sense of judgment in there.” 

Despite everything, his words made you smile. “What does that say about you then, huh?” 

“Hey, I wised up, and got the girl, so really, I probably have the best sense of judgment here.” Steve said. 

“You’re such a dork.” It was stupid, and corny, but it made you let out a laugh. You pulled back enough to look at him, and at that moment you couldn’t help but marvel at how good he was at making you feel better by putting his arms around you, and just . . . listening and assuring you that it would be okay. You’d never had that. Well not since your Dad had died anyway, and you had forgotten how much you needed it, wanted it, to have someone you felt you could unburden yourself too. Someone who wanted to make sure that you were okay. “Thank you, by the way.” 

He gave you a confused look, his brow furrowing. “What for?” 

You smiled at him, a soft smile that mirrored how he made you feel. “Trying to take care of me today. Even when I didn’t want you to.” 

Steve smiled back at you, a smile filled with affection and care that made you feel all warm inside. “I love you. I’m always going to try and take care of you.” 

His words sent another wave of emotion through your body, one that you didn’t feel often, but you knew what it was. Peace. Peace because you believed him.

[birinboom]

One Moment of Forever

Todoroki Shouto x ReaderWord count: 1,786 Summary: When Shouto is forced to take a break from work due to a quirk injury, the two of you decide to go on a camping trip to your favorite lakeside spot.

Genre: Fluff, established relationships, camping, nature therapy, pet names (love) Note: My entry for andypantsx3’s pretty boy summer collab. This fic is also a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! 💖💖💖 Check out my list of WIP's here! This is my first time writing Shouto, not sure I got him exactly right…

Your oar slips through the water, near-silent. The air is full of the song of birds. A couple take off from a tree, weaving between each other in a dance, their wings skirting the water of the river before they land in a tree on the opposite bank. You can’t help but smile at the scene.

Water laps at the bow of the canoe. Behind you, Shouto is quiet. Content with just sitting in silence, enjoying the early morning. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s just as happy in a comfortable silence as he is listening to you talk. He doesn’t mind either way.

Leaves rustle on the riverbank and a doe steps out from the undergrowth, moving towards the river to drink. You suck in a quiet breath as first one fawn, then a second, follow the doe. They’re small, their legs still unmanageable, white spots bright against tawny fur. You can’t imagine them being more than a few days old. 

Shouto shifts behind you, steering the canoe further towards the opposite bank in an attempt to keep the doe from bolting. Your head swivels as you slowly drift by, watching the fawns nurse, their little tails wiggling happily. When you deem them at a safe distance, you turn fully, beaming at Shouto.

“So cute!” you whisper.

He responds with a soft smile. “Very.”

You look at him for a moment. It’s early enough that the sky is still a gorgeous display of orange and pink, rising sun hidden behind the trees. The light limns him with gold. Despite having lived together for years, you are still occasionally struck by just how beautiful he is. Especially at moments like this, outlined in soft morning gold, a gentle breeze playing with his hair. He looks ethereal, like some immortal being from a fairytale.

Shouto tilts his head, puzzled.

“Is everything alright, love?”

You smile at him. 

“Yeah. Just admiring the view.”

You have Bakugou to thank for this experience, you reflect as you pull the canoe onto the narrow strip of sand surrounding the lake. He was the one who introduced Shouto to camping long before the two of you met; and he was the one who introduced both of you to this campsite. It’s one of your favorite places to spend a few days off with Shouto. It’s small, but very well kept. Top tier amenities. And being a campsite specifically for pro heroes and their families, it requires reservations, meaning it’s never crowded. Any heroes you’ve run into on your previous stays would do a brief smile and nod -at most a moment of small talk- before they move on. They want to relax and unwind just as much as the two of you do. No one wants to talk about work.

This time, though, the campsite is empty except for you and Shouto. You were lucky -so to speak- that Shouto’s quirk-strain happened during the off season or the place would’ve been fully booked. He’s on strict orders to only use his quirk for emergencies and to spend his time off in rest and relaxation. And this campsite is the most relaxing vacation spot you’ve come across so far.

Clouds blow in later in the morning, the gentle pitter-patter of rain steady against your tent. Shouto has dozed off while you read, his breathing soft and even. Every breath weaves together with the sound of the rain, with the smell of petrichor. You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Then Shouto rolls onto his side, one arm draping around your middle. He pulls you closer, face pressing into your neck. His body is sleep-warm, his arm laying heavily over you. 

You can’t resist anymore. “Fine!” you mumble, putting your book away and settling in for a nap.

Shouto mumbles something in reply, pressing a gentle kiss against your throat.

The rain has stopped by the time you wake. Shouto is still asleep, molded against your back, clinging to you as he usually does. He once confessed while only half awake that he worried you would leave. That someone would steal you away. The confession happened years ago; you’ve shown him time and again that you’re not going anywhere, that this unknown someone would have to drag you away kicking and screaming. And still he clings to you like a burr while asleep. You don’t really mind, though. If that is what he needs to sleep peacefully, then you’re more than happy to relax into his warm embrace. It makes you feel treasured and safe. And you’ve grown so accustomed to Shouto’s arms around you that you find it difficult to sleep when he isn’t next to you.

Shouto stirs. You more feel than hear the soft groan he lets out as he wakes. Almost as if his body is fighting to stay asleep. He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“What time is it?” he mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

“About 2,” you reply, rolling over to press your face into Shouto’s neck. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“No,” he replies, sounding more awake. “If I do, I will be unable to sleep tonight. I would rather spend my time with you.” 

You spend a while cuddling, talking, basking in each others’ company. Something you both feel doesn’t happen nearly often enough in your daily lives. Then you carry on with your day.

The ground is slick under your feet. Each step you take is carefully measured. You’d forgotten just how steep part of the trail looping around the lake is. A hike right after a rainfall wasn’t your brightest idea. Still, the view is amazing.

You pause at the top of the last hill, wiping your brow. The lake spreads out in front of you, waters reflecting the gray skies. You can see your tent by the beach, a splash of red amongst green. It reminds you of the first ripe berry on a bush.

The thought of berries makes your stomach growl. It’s almost time for dinner.

You turn to Shouto. He looks completely unbothered by the ascent, not a hint of a flush on his face, his breathing calm and even. It’s unfair sometimes, how effortless physical exertion can be for him. At the same time you’re quite satisfied not having to fight villains on a regular basis.

“Ready for the last stretch?” you ask.

Shouto just nods.

You start down the hill, every step careful. Turning your head, to take one last peek at the view. 

And then you slip.

Your back instantly collides with Shouto’s chest, his arms coming up to steady you. He seems as solid as a boulder, waiting patiently as you get your feet back under you. You have half a mind to just sag in his arms and demand he carry you back down the trail. You know he would do it in a heartbeat. But he’s meant to rest.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks when you don’t move.

You sigh in defeat, finally standing up straight. “I’m fine,” you say, looking back at him. “Just surprised.”

Shouto returns your gaze, lips pressed tight with silent concern. You look at him for a moment, before your eyes flick to the sky behind him. The clouds are the same steely-gray hue as his right eye. You can almost see them roll as they’re blown away. The sky should be clear soon.

The sun breaks out almost as if on cue, slanted early-evening rays highlighting the soft waves on the lake, the water sparkling. You point it out to Shouto.

“A quick dip before dinner?” you ask.

Shouto just looks at you for a moment. “It will not be too cold for you?”

You scoff. “Only one way to find out!”

You stare into the glowing embers of the campfire, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. 

The dip in the lake was a less-than-great idea. Despite being heated from the hike, and despite making sure your hair stayed dry, you can still feel the chill of the water. It wasn’t too bad as long as you kept moving. Still, you’re happy that the two of you decided on spicy curry for dinner tonight.

Shouto shifts next to you.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks. 

“Better,” you reply. “Still a bit cold, but the hot food is helping.”

“Would you like to come on a brief walk with me?” he asks.

You look at him for a moment. “To where? It’s almost dark.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Shouto’s lips. “To the store by the office. I thought an after dinner treat might be in order.”

You stand, beginning to put out the fire. “Better hurry then, they close soon.”

The little store run by the office is stocked with a few necessities and of course snacks. But you notice something you haven’t seen before on your way to the till. Fireworks.

You stop, tugging on Shouto’s sleeve. Pointing at the small display, you ask, “Wanna get some sparklers?”

The two of you take the sparklers down to the beach, and -much to your protest- Shouto lights them with his quirk, claiming that such a small effort it would be no hindrance in his recovery.

You both crouch on the sand, watching the sparklers burn. Peeking at Shouto for a moment, you find his focus trained on the sparkler in his hand, the sparks reflecting in his eyes. You look away again, trying your best to curb your laughter. He is like a little kid sometimes, behaving like he is experiencing something for the very first time. It’s one of the many things you love about him.

You sit still long after the last sparkler has died out, pressed against Shouto’s warmer side, his arm looped around your back. The lake is quiet, the reflections of stars bobbing on its soft waves. You turn your face skyward, a silent breath escaping you at the beauty above. Turning to Shouto, you see the stars reflected in his eyes, much like the sparklers did earlier.

Burrowing closer against him, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m happy we came here,” you say, laying your head on his shoulder, “even if it was because of your injury.”

Shouto hum in agreement, then you feel his lips brush against the top of your head. 

The two of you sit for a while longer, watching the stars, enjoying the quiet night. 

We should make sure to spend more time like this, you think. The two of you enjoying each other’s company. Watching the world go by. 

One moment of forever with him.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks (on and off anon) are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Em 💖

[turtletaubwrites]

A Good Catch ~ Part 1

✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨

I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4367

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅

A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”

The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you. 

Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket. 

You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way. 

Not that it matters. They’re pirates. 

It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by. 

A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky. 

“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you. 

“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands. 

“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”

His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming. 

He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…

“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you. 

“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”

It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.

Fuck.

“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms. 

“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”

“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy. 

You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.

You barely heard his shouts  as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you. 

“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”

“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”

You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited. 

~

“Welcome aboard!”

Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt. 

Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye… 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you. 

“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”

“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile. 

His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…

His eyes were way too close to you. 

“Are you alright?”

Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water. 

Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes. 

The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you. 

“Is there anything else you need, miss…”

Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.

“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”

His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you. 

“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”

He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction. 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.

“How long until we’re at the village?”

The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out. 

“It should be about three days from now.”

“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.

“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.

He just smirked, tilting his head.

“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”

For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.

“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”

His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net. 

“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”

Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.

“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”

The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.

“Why’s that one special?”

The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain. 

“It was a good catch.”

He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that. 

Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass. 

“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”

Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it.”

He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.

“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”

You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.

But it was too late.

Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.

The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide. 

“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.

“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”

A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves. 

Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like. 

“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”

He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question. 

“Y/N.”

He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.

“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”

You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck. 

Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.

But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in. 

How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine? 

Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.

He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first. 

The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.

“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”

Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.

Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it. 

“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”

“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.

“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”

“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.

He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”

A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him. 

But you were exhausted. 

“You’ll sit in front of the door?”

He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.

“I will.”

“Will you wear a blindfold?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.

“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”

Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.

But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm. 

Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”

~

This is really nice soap.

Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin. 

But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door. 

“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”

That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin. 

The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

How did he hear that over the shower?

~

“What the hell is this?”

“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”

You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off. 

The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.

“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.

The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.

“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.

His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”

“Fuck you.”

His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.

“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”

Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.

“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”

Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little. 

You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.

“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”

You kicked the pirate for being such a dick. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it. 

“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”

Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew. 

“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.

Of course. We’re getting his clothes. 

It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air. 

The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.

“Here, love, how about these?”

“Do you have a belt?”

~

Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.

Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does. 

“You almost finished? The party’s star…”

Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.

“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”

He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment. 

Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.

“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”

“I…”

“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”

He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway. 

Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions. 

Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it. 

Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him. 

“Just let me know if that ever changes.”

He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit. 

“You comin’? I’m hungry.”

Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.

He really is some sort of seduction demon.

~

“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”

“This is how you talk about your captain?”

The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.

“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.

“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”

He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire. 

“Come on, the food’s almost done.”

The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol. 

Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.

What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?

The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over. 

“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”

The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork. 

It smelled good.

“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”

The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.

“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”

Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.

He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips. 

It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.

It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.

Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.

“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”

Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.

“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.

Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”

“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.

“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin. 

“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low. 

“I could do without the latter.”

“You wound me, sweet damsel.”

He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.

“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.

Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.

“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”

“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”

He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.

“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”

Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.

“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”

Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough. 

“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”

Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.

“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”

Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand. 

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice. 

When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand. 

“The ocean makes me feel better too.”

His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you. 

Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.

Ignoring him did not make him go away. 

“What do you want?”

“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”

“Take me home.”

“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”

Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.

His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.

“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”

Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat. 

“Of course, let me take you now.”

The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island. 

Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters. 

“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”

He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.

“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”

This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours. 

“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”

The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[jacesbeloved]

amidst the waves: special part

summary: born a lowborn, your family a group of fishermen that supply the market; one day, it wasn't a fish caught but rather, a young man.

pairing: lucerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: heree’s a special gift in the name of hotd s2 !! had this in the drafts for so long and just finished it after the first ep as a warm up for the fics to come :D i hope u guys enjoy

part: I, II, III, special

You had hoped for a nicer sea.

Inside of a sturdy wooden fishing boat, situated in the middle of the waters, all the while rain was pouring down on you, the waves wasn't cooperating as well.

Your hair was tied into a knot, absolutely drenched from the rainwater, as you desperately tried to help Alaine tie the net inside of your boat. Some of the sea creatures you've captured managed to jump back out because of the chaos inside of the boat.

"Are we not heading back!?" Alaine yelled, hands clutching the sides of the boat as the waves rocked the both of you.

"What do you think I'm doing!?" You moved the oars aggressively. Alaine groaned before joining you in rowing the boat.

Your hair strands stuck to your forehead by the time you arrived at a part of the sea where the storm had calmed down. Only a light shower of rain droplets fell on the both of you.

Alaine wiped her forehead tiredly, resting her head on her hands while you continued rowing. Desperate to head back home and escape any possible storm that may follow your boat.

Something seemed to feel wrong; like you were forgetting, neglecting something.

You sneaked your eyes to the side, a second before you sharply turned towards your sister's direction. Her skin was pale, body shivering.

"Alaine? Alaine!" You pulled off the extra piece of clothing around your neck and proceeded to place it around your sister. "Hey? Stay with me, okay? I'll bring us back." You whisper on her forehead and she weakly nods.

A sigh leaves your lips, forgetting the ache in your arms as you started to row continuously without any break.

It took the both of you an hour at most; your arms were practically crying and shaking. The fear and nervousness inside of you growing whenever you glance at your sister still trembling in your scarf.

The familiar shore reappears in your sight, even though it was still far away, you felt a bit relieved seeing it.

There was no one by the shore when you got closer. Your hut's door closed shut and you couldn't see any movement from inside of the open windows. You gently grabbed your sister's head, whispering her name on her head as you tried to wake her up.

"We're here, Alaine. Please stay for me," you spoke, rubbing her head as you started screaming your brother's name. "Arrel! Where are you! We need you, now!"

By your first scream, there wasn't anyone that came out to help bring you fully to the shore. You screamed Arrel's name again, this time even louder which caused Alaine to groan.

You apologized softly, pulling back the oars and rowing.

Someone yells your name, at first you thought it was Arrel but it wasn't.

There was another figure right beside your brother's. A figure that seemed taller, a little bit bulkier, and certainly more layered. The figure had a unique coat on, a luxurious one.

Your eyes go wide when the two of them run to your boat, pulling the front to the shore as your body freezes on the spot.

It's Luke.

Or, to be correct, Prince Lucerys.

"What happened to her, Y/N?" he asks out with concern, rushing to pull off the coat he was wearing and place it on top of your sister.

You weren't sure what to tell him; do you just answer and act normal as if there wasn't anything that went on between the two of you three years ago? Or do you ignore him, throw a tantrum, reject his offer of a helping hand?

"Y/N! What happened to her?!" You were snapped back to reality when Arrel was the one that asked you. Your eyes blinking erratically as you stammered through your words, telling them that it seemed Alaine caught a cold because of the rain.

"We have to bring her to the hut. Arrel, get some new clothes for her, the ones I bought, those are comfortable and warm enough for her." Luke instructs, your brother nodding as he runs off.

"What- Arrel! Help me bring Alaine there what are you doing!"

Luke sighs, obvious to him that you were ignoring him.

He grabs hold of Alaine's arm, helping her up with his hand on her hips. Despite not wanting to, you grabbed the other arm and proceeded to help your sister out of the boat. Choosing to set aside your pride for now.

"You should run inside. You're drenched! I will carry her." Luke says, stopping for a moment.

"No!" You yelled.

Luke huffs, rolling his eyes as he nods.

By the time you got to the hut, you had quickly finished dressing Alaine in a new set of clothes from her wardrobe, not taking the ones Arrel was handing you that were from Lucerys.

Arrel had brought in a pot with cold water, and you grabbed a towel and submerged it in cold water before folding it to place on top of Alaine's forehead. The younger woman was still shivering, even though her forehead was hot.

"Here," Luke joins, entering the open room with some liquid inside of a small cup.

You looked at him, confused. "This," he says, raising the cup. "It's tea. We can use it to make her sweat and get the cold out. We have to get the heat out of her body."

"I know how to treat a cold, Luke," you grumbled. Arrel is looking at you with an "are you serious" look. Another sigh leaves your lips. Arrel rolls his eyes and takes the tea from Luke.

You held the back of your sister's head up, helping Arrel and Luke as they tried to make her drink it. Making sure that none of the hot liquid falls on her. Alaine coughs loudly, grimacing at the taste.

When the two males get her to drink it all, you set her back down and wrap a blanket over her body. Letting her rest and sleep.

Hours passed by in such an awkward atmosphere. You were seating on the seat by the kitchen, quietly cutting an apple as Arrel assorted today's catch into different tubs. Luke was out for a bit, unclear to you what he was doing but all that you remembered was him borrowing a piece of parchment and some ink. After that, he stayed inside of the living room, right across from the open kitchen with Arrel in the middle.

Your youngest sibling suddenly stands up, informing you that he'll be taking them to the market and that he left some to cook for later.

"W-what, you're leaving now?" You stammered, eyes flicking over to Luke before snapping back to Arrel.

"Yes. I have to get these to the market. I have to buy some herbs and other food as well, some you can use for our dinner with Luke later-"

"I appreciate the thought, Arrel, but there is need not of an extra dinner. I can leave before dinner if needed-" It was Luke's turn to speak now.

Your lips go dry, Luke gulping, Arrel staring at the both of you weirdly.

Taking none of yours statements into account, he leaves the hut. Ignoring your empty threat.

That is why here you both were. Sitting in silence, not a word spoken, no stories of what happened in the other's life for the past years.

You lean back a bit, catching a glimpse of the sun setting so you stand up. Rubbing your hands on your hips. "I'll start cooking."

Luke was quick to stand as well, following your footsteps to the kitchen. "I can- I'll help!"

"No need. Sit."

"Nonsense. I used to cook for your family all the time." He says with a chuckle, an attempt in lightening up the atmosphere. "Used to, Luke. I'm sure your maids and cooks cook for you now, of course you'd forget how to grill and cook."

He grabs the small pail filled with fish, running outside and away from you.

Being the person that you are, you ran after him. Dashing out of the door while screaming his name, glaring at him. A smile draws on his lips as he runs near the shore, the weight of his clothes evidently wearing him down.

You shove him hard, gripping the padded shoulder of his shirt when you catch onto him. Luke laughs at that, acting as if he was getting hurt with each time you smacked his shoulder.

"Give me it; I'll cook," you demanded.

He calms down a bit, sealing his lips as he thinks for a second. Eventually, he hands you the pail with a small grin. "As long as you'll let me help."

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he walked away without a word. Luke catches up to you with no problem and sets out to walk beside you with his hands behind his back.

"I missed you, you know," he said. The sudden statement surprised you, a faint red hue threatening to show on your cheeks.

"I wrote to you many times," and you started to feel a bit apologetic. Remembering the times when a random raven flies to your hut, having a letter with Luke's signature? Speaking about how being with his family was weird but great,. He was still weird even after months, but he grew back into his family. Though he also missed staying in the hut, in his own little tent, grilling seafood at night for dinner.

"I didn't know you did," you lied.

You hear him scoff a bit: "I found my letters underneath your bed; Y/N. Arrel showed them to me."

And there it is. The nerve to apologize after being caught.

"I assume you have your reasons, and I respect that." He cuts off your train of thoughts, already assuring you when he sees the guilt strike your face.

"Forgive me," you said. "There is nothing to forgive, Y/N. I understand that we did not really leave each other on a good foot." He spoke with some sense of maturity, different from the one he already had way back.

You nod, pursing your lips.

The two of you remained silent, him watching as you prepped the fish, expertly using your knife quick and clean.

"So what brought you back here?" It was your turn to speak, opening up a conversation.

"I told you." He smiles at you. "I missed you."

You look away from him, acting as if you were looking for something, just to avoid him seeing your cheeks. The sun was still setting, and he would still be able to see the rosy stains on your cheeks from his reply.

"And the sea," he laughed, pointing at the waters. You laughed with him, and although it was forced, you tried your best not to. "Of course, the sea."

The rest of the conversation passed by awfully comfortably. It was like two childhood friends catching up about what happened in their lives. Loud laughs and playful remarks thrown here and there whenever one joked about something.

Arrel arrived, not really interrupting them when he did. Just simply walking inside the hut silently carrying some other already cooked food.

You remember one simple question that you had—something that was lingering in your head for the whole day ever since you saw him today. "What is it, my lady?"

"So, uh, how is life betrothed?" The response you got caught you off-guard.

Luke laughed. He laughed. Loudly. Not just a simple laugh; no, he was laughing hard.

You got thrown off by that, shaking your head and looking away. Focusing down on what you were cooking over the fire, as you just chose not to push on it. When he laughs at your name, you scowl. "What?!"

"Y/N-"

A loud roar cuts you both off, and your heart almost falls out of your ribcage when you see two big dragons flying in your direction. Your hand immediately comes over to grip Luke's arm, squeezing it as you point at the two creatures with fear on your face.

Compared to the pure fright on your face, Luke's face had relaxed as he recognized the two dragons despite the dark skies.

Both dragons flew above them, circling their little vicinity before the two dragons disappear for a few moments. Taking deep breaths, you slowly released your hold on his arm. A small smile appeared on his face as you went back to the clay pot hanging over the fire as if nothing had happened.

He followed you to your spot, ghosting over the fire as he watched you in silence. I watched the way your forehead creased in concentration, but the nibbling on your lips told him you were still irritated.

"I do not have a betrothed, my lady," he says the answer that was interrupted before.

"Rest her soul."

Luke shakes his head, "She is not dead. The betrothal was called off a few days after I returned."

"Oh!" you sigh, biting the inside of your cheek awkwardly at the piece of information. You didn't necessarily know what to do with the information but it certainly did lift a lot of weight off of your chest. "That is... unfortunate."

"Incredibly unfortunate," Luke echoes in the most monotone voice you ever heard. A deadpan look on his face.

You were about to take notice on that response of his when three figures appear behind him. I am walking towards the both of you. Luke, looking back as well, turns again to you but now with a genuine smile.

When they come closer, your breath hitches. It's Queen Rhaenyra with Prince Jacaerys and Joffrey.

"Your grace," you say, taking a knee and bowing to them. Luke glances at you as he does a shallow curtsy himself before he stretches his arms to hug his family.

"It is our honor to meet you, Lady Y/N. You are my son's savior," Rhaenyra reaches to shake your hand, a look of genuineness on her eyes. Jace and Joffrey reach as well, each taking turns saying their greetings.

"You praise me, your grace. I simply did what any normal person would do. It is more surprising and commendable that Prince Luke—" you pause, "Lucerys—managed to live through our impoverished, penniless—"

"Y/N." Luke stops you there, holding your arm with a frown. "You should not bring your family down. You guys have been more than welcoming and accommodating for me."

"I agree with Luke. It is us that are in debt to your hospitality. Without you, I do not think our family could have been complete again." Jace cuts in with a solemn smile.

Rhaenyra comes forward, glancing at your family's hut. "Oh, my parents are yet to come back from the town. My brother, Arrel, is also in the market for dinner—perfect!"

"I had just remembered. I will be able to cook a bigger dinner once he arrives."

"There is no need, dear. We have come here to express our gratitude for your hospitality to my son," Rhaenyra says softly. "May we?" You nod eagerly, opening the front door of your hut to welcome the unexpected family.

Luke tends to Alaine first, covering her with the curtain to provide her with some privacy as she is sleeping, before he happily accompanies his own brothers. Even telling Joffrey to start fanning the pit of fire while Jace skewered the fish. You and his mother having a cup of tea inside.

"You are all fishermen?"

You nod, "My mother and father deliver these seafood to King's Landing on occasion, which is why only us three are left here."

Rhaenyra hums, looking around. "Luke has told us all about this. According to him, he learned a lot more lessons on livelihood here than in King's Landing."

The two of you share laughters at that. "My apologies, your grace. My family—I included them—had not known of Luke—Prince Lucery's status so we had treated him as normal as we would any other person."

"There is no need to call him with such formalities. I am aware of the relationship you both share," Rhaenyra replies and you look at her awkwardly.

What even is this relationship that she speaks of? You weren't quite sure.

"There is no need to feel troubled, Y/N. If my son has yet to tell you, his—"

"Betrothal was called off," You finish for her. The Queen sends you a knowing look as she nods. The two of you comfortably sitting in silence.

A gasp disrupts the silence, "Oh my, your grace," Alaine's head falls to bow. Gulping as she looks at you with major confusion. You shrug discreetly, not knowing how to reply.

"This is Alaine. Our middle-born." Alaine does a curtsy with nervousness before Luke's call from outside echoes inside. "Mother! Y/N! Dinner is ready. Arrel has arrived back as well!" Luke yells from outside.

The three of them head back out to reveal the four boys getting along with each other. Arrel, despite being younger than the other three, is tallest and is the one ordering them around. They were fixing the plates and preparing the cooked meat.

Alaine had already run to the food as soon as she came out. You and Rhaenyra... still chatted.

"I know my son's attachment is heavy but I tell you this as a mother: all I want for Luke is happiness. He is to rule Driftmark after his grandfather. I figure it will be an incredibly burden, not to discredit your or..."

"Your grace, I do not know."

"Mother," Luke calls. The two of you turning to him. "You shan't pressure Y/N. Let us have supper."

Rhaenyra squeezes your hand as she sighs, nodding while pulling the both of you to where they were eating.

It was a rowdier but definitely cozier supper. Laughters and stories both from the sea and the castle were shared as if there weren't a barrier between their status—because to them, there weren't.

Luke was right beside you throughout supper. Comfortably jesting with your siblings and his. It was all too casual.

The two of you share a look at that moment, eyes staring longingly at each other. A smile comes onto your lips when you feel his hand slowly and softly creeping into your free hand. You glance at his hand, then at his face.

He's smiling at you. One that pulls at your heart again, just like before. Only this time, he's sure he won't be leaving you any time soon.

[simplyafountainpen]

Dancing With Death

{𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼}: Doll!M!Reader x The Undertaker

{𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷}: It was a slow day in the shop, and the Undertaker was growing bored. Now, what better way to cheer up then playing with his favorite doll?~

{𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼}: Switch!Mainly Bottom!Reader, Switch!Mainly Top!Undertaker, size queen, medical play (needles), spit used as lube, unhealthy power dynamics, pain play (by technicality), casket fucking, goofy sex, Reader gets a new penis;then gets fucked with the old one, Mute!Reader

The Undertaker glided through the halls of the funeral home. His hair flowed even more freely with the removal of his hat, which sat on your head.

He tidied up - in his own special way anyway - and moved coffins around as you sat wordlessly on an old, rickety gurney. Small dust clouds were swept up as he danced through the halls, you watching in what little curiosity you could muster up. He had been proud, you remembered, when you smiled for the first time, no matter how small it may have been. You've been slowly gaining emotions back as the years passed by Adrian's side. He hummed as he swept, though he was really just pushing dust into other corners.

Your hand snaked up to the stiches that lined both side of your jaw, sewed to a point that it only left the middle of your mouth able to open. Apparently, when you were brought back - your memory was always so hazy - your jaw just refused to stay attached to your head, so stitching the two was Adrian's next best option. Your feeling in that area was naturally lacking, but you made due, if just to see that delighted grin the white-haired reaper would gain. You were ripped from your thoughts when hands wrapped around your waist and ticked the various other stiches on your body, a head resting on your shoulder.

"What has you so lost in thought, love?" He giggled, and you laid your head atop his. You booped his nose and he gasped dramatically, draping himself over you even more than he was. "You were thinking of me?! Oh you lovely you!!" He started peppering your face in kisses, kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips. You turned, your waist and pelvic bones groaning at the movement.

Your body turned a full one-hundred and eighty degrees to meet him, legs still facing forward. Hands and arms encircled his shoulders, your head leaning into his chest. Your skin screamed in protest of the awkward position, but the pain was so dull with your dead nerves you barely cared to recognize it. Cleaning had been completely forgotten in Adrian's mind by now, instead he clambered up onto the gurney with you, lifting you - and allowing your body to flex back into a regular position - and placing you in his lap. Reaching over he grabbed a broom he had been using earlier in the day and used it as a makeshift oar to move the wheeled bed across the floor. The two of you flew across the Funeral Parlor until you crashed against a wall, Adrian laughing gleefully all the while whist you clung to him.

He recovered quite quickly, and pushed a shelf to the side, revealing a small staircase upwards. You had just barely began to dust yourself off when he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. As soon as he entered the small staired corridor he gripped a small handle with his free hand, pulling the shelf back in it's place and allowing you both upstairs - the living quarters - with nothing to be bothered about as far as you cared.

Soon you were both in the lofty space above all the body filled coffins, now surrounded by half-finished, empty ones. You barely breathed as Adrian took you to your shared bedroom and laid you gently on the black sheets of a two-person casket, your body going boneless as soon as you felt the comforting coolness touch your equally cold body.

"Hehe, now now my love, I did still have a couple things I had to do today buuuuttttt, I figure I can do them tomorrow. I mean, with you sitting there so cute how could anyone get anything done??" Adrian asked with a smile, taking the hat of his that you still wore and placing it on a nightstand.

"In fact, you're so cute I might just-" "UNDERTAKER?!" Adrian paused, smile still on his lips but strained. You recognized that scream. It was the blue boy's scream, though you couldn't quite recall his name at the moment. You had heard your fair share of conversations between him and Adrian as you pretended to be a corpse in one of the many coffins downstairs.

"I forgot to close the shop and blow out the candles... ah well. At the very least this should be entertaining. Sorry love, I've actually got pressing business to attend to it seems, most likely about that young lad who came in a couple days ago." Ah yes, the little boy. He looked like he was strait from a portrait with how sickly and pale he was, how thin and skinny he was, and how thick those bags under his eyes were. It shocked you a little when you lifted up the hat Adrian had put onto his head to find the top of his head and skull missing, what little was left of the brain nothing more then a sickly red and grey soup. The hat was quickly placed back on what was left of his head.

You shook the image from your head, the picture fading into black in your mind, you had seen much worse while with Adrian anyway. You looked at him and nodded in understanding, leaning up and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He blushed, giggling even more, before skipping off with a wave, opening a small hatch that would allow him to "appear" in a coffin downstairs.

Though, before he went down the shoot, he turned and blew you a kiss, mouthing something to you before flying down into the darkness below, door snapping back into the wall after him. It took a few moments to decipher what he had mouthed but when you did, you grabbed a pillow and shoved your face into it, feet kicking into the air.

'I'll make it up later, my Lily.’

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

Adrian crept into the large bedroom, the sun long gone from the sky and the moon hanging lazily behind clouds. Your paled skin almost glowed in the light, chest unmoving, a sign of rest. He chuckled, thinking of all the ways he could wake you and make good on his promise from earlier. He waltzed over to a dresser, pulling out the bottom drawer, and began to make selections for the night. His eyes practically lit up the room when he pulled his hair back as he began to disrobe.

Satin wrap and mourning lockets resided on a table, and clothes - minus his undergarments - rested folded on a desk chair. As he stood stagnate for a moment, you shifted, upper body lifting with no help from your arms. When fully sat you, your head flopped forward. After a minute, you seemingly jolted awake, eyes flying wide and meeting his which watched with intrest.

"Rigor mortis again, my love?" he questioned, leaving some things on the desk while holding his hands behind his back. You nodded stiffly, twisting and turning to loosen your stiffened joints. Once something loudly popped in your spine, you sighed in relief. Adrian began walking over, still holding his hands behind his back. You raised your eyes in question, and Adrian chuckled.

"Are you wondering what's back here, love?~" He was teasing you, so you chuffed, raising your arms and grabbing at him. He laughed out loud that time, clambering into the casket and resting in your lap. Your arms quickly found purchase around his waist, hands groping at the feeling of his pelvic bone. The feeling was obviously tickling the pale, scarred man above you, because the laughter quickly turned into him belting out in joy, his hands slapping at the coffin floor. He snickered, snorting into your hair as he leaned down, one hand coming from his back and rubbing your scalp, and you leaned into the touch.

His hand trailed down to the small of your back, feeling the mourning clothes your family had gave him to bury you in, the smooth cotton under his fingers of the long dress coat you wore. You pressed your face into his jugular, inhaling and sighing. His hand came up and traced your collarbone. He dropped whatever he was holding to bring both hands to your coat in order to begin undressing you. Whatever it was, it was cold against the frozen skin of your legs. It felt textured, long in shape and bulbous at the head.

Whatever it was, you were more than ready to see it.

Adrian took all your upper layers off as you stared off into the distance, lost in your thoughts. You were limp as he raised your arms to remove you coat, vest and shirt, forehead rested on his shoulder as you slowly blinked. His hands glided across your paled skin, tracing stiches.

His hands trailed downward from your chest and to your stomach, rubbing the skin for a moment, humming, then dragging his hands down to your waist, resting his palms on the rim of your pants, digging his thumbs between the pants and your skin. You hummed, shimming your hips to make it easier for the man to remove your pants and underwear. He inched back till he was at your ankles, yanking both slacks and underwear off, then gently pulling your socks off.

You sighed, Adrian giggled, and he scooted right up back onto your lap, limp dick resting on one of his thighs. One hand came to touch your face, thumbing your cheek as you leaned in like a cat, almost purring like one too. His other hand went behind him, grabbing whatever it was he wanted to show you.

“My love, do you remember a certain conversation we had?” Your eyes met his, shocked a little at being able to see the glowing green light they emitted. After a instant though, you shook your head.

“Figured as much. For such a pretty face nothing much goes on up here.~” He jokingly lamented, knocking on your head rather harshly, making you grunt at the dull, non-existent pain. “Well, dear, it was about your… well how should I put this… your anatomy?” He questioned, though that was more to himself than anything. You tilted your head.

“As I’m sure you’re more than aware of, you are stitched together at the limbs. You have noticed, yes?” You nodded, hand subconsciously coming to feel the stitches on your face. “Then on that subject, I’m sure you’re aware that I had to take some… artistic liberties when recreating your penis?” You nodded again, hand on your face running down to your cock, which had more stitches than the Frankenstein, really.

“And as much as I do love the texture those 'artistic liberties' give me in bed, I’ve grown a bit bored, and we can’t be having that now can we, dear?” You rapidly shook your head no, muscles and bones creaking and groaning at the rate you shook your head.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Then, I hope you won’t hate this gift I have for you?~” You stared at him, eyes flitting down to the hand behind his back, still nuzzling - to the best of your ability - the hand on your cheek. Adrian smiled one of the widest grins you’d ever seen on him, and whipped his hand around to the front.

What met your eyes was one of the longest, girthiest and heftiest cock you’d ever seen in your life- or well… rebirth anyway. If the blood that was in your veins still pumped through your body, it would've run cold at the sight of the damned thing. One of your hands reached out to run a finger against it, the feeling of the thing being so life-like that you would mistake it for real cock. Knowing Adrian... it probably was. It, at bare minimum, was seven inches in length and five inches in girth. You licked what little skin of your lips your tongue could reach, eyes looking into Adrian's as his smile widened even more. He began to laugh at what you assumed was you expression, probably being the closest to shock your face could morph it into.

"Huge, isn't it?" He joked, tossing it from one hand to another, the weight the thing making loud slapping noises as he 'played' with it. You eyes followed it, almost hypnotized, but you shook your head and looked up to meet his eyes blinking in confusion. He still stared, his tongue now peaking from between his lips, and gazed into your eyes.

"Ah yes, I'm sure you're wondering: "How will we switch them out Adrian??", well my dear, I anticipated this would happen at some point and soooo-" He dropped the monster of a cock from his hand, standing and jumping out from the casket, rushing back over to the desk and picked up what looked to be a small medical bag. Within seconds he was back in the casket, taking out a small pair of suture scissors and a small scalpel. He placed the scissors down on a small tray he also removed from the bag before he began teasing the blade down your body, starting from infraumbilical and trailing down to your pelvis, teasing the sharp blade around the base of your dick, pressing on the suture's keeping your sex attached to your body. For a moment you felt a pinch, and finally some of the stiches broke, minimal amounts of blood pearling from the points where Adrian purposefully pressed a bit harder, the view causing you to chub.

Adrian tutted, grabbing what was still attached and squeezing, your breath hitching. He took the scissors from their resting place, replacing them with the scalpel, and snipped away at what little was left, an odd feeling clinging to your body as the flaps of skin at the base of your dick rested on your body, no longer attached. Adrian looked up, one hand still on your cock, and began chuckling again.

"... I made you like a little mix-and-match doll!" Without warning he tugged, and immediately you noted that a little more then just the just the skin would've had to have been sewn together in order for the dick to work. You groaned, feeling your urethral tube be split at your base. Your erectile tissue evidently was giving issue as Adrian grunted, picking the scalpel back up and make quick but precise cuts to the structure, making fast work of it.

And finally, you were free. You stared as open mouthed as you could be at the sight of your bare pelvis, making quick glances at the penis Adrian held in his hands smirking. Barely any blood pooled from the wound, what was left was drooping from your body. You kept your eyes on the stump, running a gentle hand over it, shivering at the extreme jolt of pleasure that ran though your, stronger than anything you had felt as of late. Adrian gripped your wrist before you could touch the pieces again.

"Now now my love, give me a moment and this will become much, much more pleasurable." You nodded, what little breathing you were preforming slowing when you thought of the new weight you'd be carrying around. Perhaps you may need a new pair of pants...

You snapped out of your thoughts, eyes focusing back on Adrian as he leaned close to your pelvis, old penis long discarded... somewhere you couldn't see. He was hard at work, lining up nerves and the new urethral tube to your own, erectile tissues already dealt with. All you could think about was how nimble Adrian's hands were, making quick work of all access skin and pulling out a medical grade needle and thread, the scissors making a reappearance as he tied knots. Whatever the hell he made the beast out of must have been fresh, because soon enough you were feeling each press of the needle into you skin. You couldn't help but pant, drool slipping from your sewed lips, whines rolling from the back of your throat.

Adrian laughed as he watched you eyes roll to the back of your head, an arm quickly wrapping around your midsection when you fell back onto your elbows. He made sure you hips would stay propped up as he continued to work, fingers ghosting now sensitive flesh. Your chest rose and fell harshly as he continued to work, a sudden weight pulling your hips down. It was silent for a moment, Adrien not laughing or speaking, only shallow breathing.

Everything was still, nothing but the crickets outside singing. Adrien sat up, his grin wide and full of glee. The reaper leaned close, pulling you back up by the shoulder. He leveled himself with your ear, hot breath puffing making it twitch.

"All done.~" He whispered, and abruptly his hand found it's way to the base, squeezing again. You whined, head falling even further back as Adrian made his way onto your lap, one hand now moving to your hair while the other stayed on your new dick. He licked his lips, bringing up his hand and spitting on it, wrapping it back around your cock and slowly stroking it, gently caressing the tip with his thumb, then he stuck his tongue out and giggled at you. You huffed like a dog, groaning and humming as he languidly stroked up and down. He began to palm your dick, pressing it between his hand and your stomach, stopping to pinch at the skin lightly. He yanked you by your hair to face him, eye to eye. Finally he smashed his lips on yours, cold lips meeting his wet lips in a harsh embrace. His teeth grinded on your lips, then forcing them as far as they could go and shoving his tongue in. Though only the tip of his tongue could fit, he groaned loudly, speeding up his palming and adding pressure. Your arms gripped Adrien's shoulders, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

He readjusted his grip, holding you dick again and rapidly stroking, precum running like faucet out your tip. Finally your 'kiss' broke, a long line of drool keeping you both connected. He smirked, laughing as he licked the line up, trailing up your cheek leaving a wet trail. Your eyes focused on his hand on your dick, watching it like it called you, breath short. You felt a knot in your belly begin to tighten, cock twitching and balls tightening. Adrien seemed to take notice and brought you closer and closer, before pulling away at literally the last second, leaving you a whining, whimpering mess. You let go of him and fall back onto a pillow, arms crossing above your head. Your now teary eyes stared into his as he cackled, slapping a hand to his forehead and and throwing his head back, kicking his legs into the air.

You picked yourself up, pouting and crossed your legs, turning away from him. His laughter died down into snickers when he saw you. He crawled forward and pressed his head into your chest, pressing himself into you and wrapping arms around your waist. You crossed your arms and looked away, shaking your head as he prodded his face into one of you pecks.

"Oh come ooonnn love, it was just a bit of fuuuunnn!" He dramatically sighed. You still looked away, not bothering to give him any kind of attention. He shifted himself onto your lap, your cock now between his ass cheeks. He began to grind down, what spit he globbed onto it earlier working as lube. You bit the inside of your cheek as his hands made their way around your neck.

"Lovely pllleeaassee look at mmee!" He was whining now, humping at your dick and rubbing his face up and down your chest. Your resolve was cracking but you sucked it up and continued to ignore him to the best of your abilities. It seemed Adrian had enough because one of his hands gripped your chin and forced you to face him.

"Now now my lily," you shivered, "Is this anyway to act towards the man who blessed you with such a beast like this?~" He clenched ass around your girth, bouncing faster to emphasize his point. You groaned, uncrossing your arms and gripping his waist. He laughed as you gave in, pressing your face into his hair.

"Good boy good boy! Such a good lovely you are!~ Now for your reward!" He suddenly gripped at your shoulders again, raising himself off your dick. Before you could whine in any way, he shushed you. He reached back with one hand and spread his cheeks, revealing his winking hole to the cold air of the room. You watched him shiver and then smile widely, then slam himself down onto your cock, not even taking the time to prep himself.

You immediately grabbed his hips to try and lift him back up to assess damage and scold him, but he tightened around you, sucking the monster dick all the way in one move. You froze, mind going fully blank at the feel of his hot insides fully encompassing your newfound girth. After a moment of recollecting yourself, you looked at him, both with lust and worry, and all he did was coo at you.

"Aw, is my darling worried for me?" You sniffed, nodding, and he only cooed louder, squeezing your cock and petting your head. You shivered and leaned into his touch. Tears fell and Adrian stopped his cooing and coddling to truly took at you.

"Are you... genuinely worried love?" You nodded, sniffling to the best of your current capabilities. Adrian's grin uncharacteristically dropped. For once he wasn't giggling or snickering or laughing. You gripped his hips a bit tighter. "Dear, look at me."

Your teary gaze met his concerned eyes and he did something you never thought you'd see him do: frown.

"I've been through much, much worse love." He murmured, and you nodded. "This is nothing to me, Love." You nodded again. "I want you to understand that I am perfectly fine with a bit of pain, alright?" You nodded again, rubbing his hips and pressing your face into his neck. You both sat there in silence, just breathing and existing in each others holds, your hands on his hips and around your neck.

You heard Adrian sigh, and felt his lips on your neck, gently suckling on the stitched up skin, paying close attention to make sure no stiches got caught in his teeth. You in turn hummed, continuing to rub circles into his waist.

He started to grind your cock deeper into his depths, your breathing shuttering at his movements, the circles you were drawing becoming shaky. Adrian smiled into your skin, gently rubbing your upper back while still laying soft kisses to your neck. You finally gripped his waist, grinding your cock into him, making him let out a loud moan that would turn into a laugh. He finally picked himself up and slammed himself back onto your cock, both of you groaning in pleasure. He moved up and down as he continued to press kisses, moving up your neck, to your chin, then your cheeks and then your lips.

He would bounce a couple times, then grind down and squeeze his walls around you. He did this over and over again, enjoying every time you’d whine when he’d stop for a moment. You gripped his waist, nails nearly piercing his skin, and raised him till only your tip was in his ass, then slammed him down, Adrien’s nails instead piercing your skin and drawing red lines on your back. You continued to bounce him, grunting as you used him like a toy. Adrian’s voice had became high pitched, almost girlish moans leaving his lips.

You held him down for a moment, slamming him into the back of the coffin. He grunted, and you quickly resumed pounding into his wet heat. Your hands left his hips and grabbed his thighs, pulling one onto your shoulder for more leverage as you kept pushing into him. The sound of skin on skin echoed through the room with Adrian’s moans right behind, the sent of sex filling your nose. Your hips met his with force, shifting him on his back, his hands falling and landing beside his head. You folded yourself forward, pushing your face into his chest as you continued to thrust. Adrian was screaming at this point, hair a wild mess beneath him and eyes crossed to the back of his head.

You harshly sucked in a breath when Adrian suddenly thrusted up to meet you halfway. You looked up at him too see him completely flushed and panting. You slowed down, watching as one of his arms picked up and trailed down your spine, and eventually rested on your ass. You raised an eyebrow at his action, then fell forward into his chest when a finger entered your ass. Immediately you jerked into him, which in turn made him push the finger deeper inside you.

You dropped his legs, wrapping arms around his midsection and whined loudly, humping into his warmth while he added another finger, constantly switching from thrusting them and stretching them out. Your eyesight was getting bleary from the sheer amount of tears pouring down your face. Adrian was moaning and laughing at the situation, adjusting you upwards on him so you were face to face.

"S-such a cute dolllll I have huh? So c-cute and PLIant for meeee hehe!!~” His tone was the slightest bit mocking as he stretched out your hole, adding a third finger which made you whine. He quickly matched your pace with his long fingers, poking your prostate head on, his other hand coming down to slap your pert ass. He laughed wildly at your noises, now more bouncing you up and down then you had been.

He suddenly gained strength, enough to sit up at an angle and force you to stop, ripping his fingers from your hole and pushing you over to land on your back, cock still inside him all the while. Adrian reached behind him, sweating and panting as he cackled and picked himself up to slam back down on you.

The feeling of finality raced across your mind and you seized up, joints locking and hands flying to his chest, tearing down causing him to bleed. He giggled, tutted once more, reached behind him, and suddenly slammed something deep with you. You jerked up, pushing yourself fully within his ass and cried, nails digging deeper into his flesh.

Rigid and bumpy the object was, fleshy and cold to match you, it nailed your prostate head on. You looked at Adrian incredulously and all he did was smile, rear the thing back till only the tip was encased inside you, and pushed it fully back inside. Again you slammed into him, his head rearing back and hair flowing wildly. He set a quick pace, one not hard to follow, and it wasn’t long until you gave in and gave one final pump, then came inside him.

Adrian all but screamed to the heavens when you released; but, he didn’t stop his relentless attacks on your ass, still fucking you with whatever he was fucking you with. He kept bouncing even as you silently pleaded for him to stop, hands moving to his biceps to stay steady as overstimulation started to settle in your bones. A creamy white ring made its home beneath his ass as your cum was pushed out by even more release when you came again, shoving at Adrian’s chest to get him off you.

“O-OH!! Not yet m-my love I’m al-ALMOST!! ThERE!!~~” With that, Adrian slammed himself down the hardest he had all evening, pushing his new found toy to the hilt up your ass, the both of you cumming at the same time, his seed landing all across your torso and chest.

He fell forward, lying on top of you, both of you breathing harshly. Adrian giggled, licked up some of his own cum, and kissed you, tonguing it past your lips. It was salty, with just a touch of sweetness, you hummed and swallowed as he fell back onto your chest. The two of you lied there, basking in the afterglow and simply existing for a short while, before finally you realized something.

Poking Adrian on his shoulder, he glanced up and you motioned to you butt - ignoring that fact you were both still connected via your flaccid cock up his tight ass - and gestured for him to remove whatever was still inside there. Evidently this was hilarious to Adrian because he quickly slammed as hand on you chest and burst out into gut wrenching laughter, his whole body shaking, which made you groan because - again - you both were still connected by the hips.

“Oh, oh dear you are not going to like this… b-but that new ‘toy’ I added in the, ahem, passion of the moment- if I may say - was… it was - hehe… it was uhm… Well how about I just show you?~” After choking on his own laughter, the hand that still held whatever-it-was ripped it out without warning, but before you could even make any kind of sound, it was presented before you.

… Your old cock.

Adrian had fucked you… with your own, old cock.

Evidently the look on your face was amazing because Adrian burst into tears, throwing the poor thing across the room to hold himself as he laughed. You stared at him in disbelief, but quickly let it go, hugging him to your body and turning to lay on your side. He snickered into your chest as you closed your eyes, allowing the moon to shine over your sweaty bodies.

Your pressed a kiss to his head as he continued to now silently laugh in your grip. Opening one eye, you looked at him softly. Even if he was a kook, he was your kook.

… A kook that fucked you in the ass with your own cock, but your kook nevertheless. And that’s exactly how you wanted it to be.

{𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼}: I adore the Undertaker. What I wouldn't give to be one of his Dolls...

-🖋️

All publishings on this account belong to @fountain-pen-anon. I do not authorize my fics being altered, translated, stolen or published/reposted to other sites, thank you.

© fountain-pen-anon - all rights reserved

[socksracoon10]

Pirate

Pairing: Will Turner x F!Reader, Jack Sparrow x F!Reader (Platonic) Read The Second Part: Not Just A Pirate

That imbecile had left you with Barbossa, and the thought of having to deal with his monkey's stupid chattering had nearly driven you to madness. Seizing any opportunity available, you had found yourself a small boat and began your search for Sparrow. You weren't expecting much from him, considering you were technically a part of his crew - the rest were with Barbossa. Not that it made any difference, though, because at the moment you were without a captain and unfortunately in the eyes of a few redcoats who eyed you, warily. They drew their rifles closer to themselves, marching over with some fire in their eyes.

"Oh, curse me," You muttered underneath your breath, throwing your hat into the water below, before carefully stepping onto a dock. Your foot dangled helplessly onto the boat, almost causing you to lose your balance. Gesturing for a soldier to come help you, you grabbed hold of his arm and hoisted yourself up onto the wooden platforms and sighed in relief, thanking them with false kindness.

"Enough, enough," One of them grumbled, rolling his eyes. He sneezed, the droplets of his mucus flying past you as you cringed at the sight. Despite being a pirate, you still had at least a little bit of hygiene left in you during your days as a "proper" lady. "What brings a girl like you to Port Royal, especially in that poor excuse of a boat?"

You followed the soldier's fingers to the vessel, noticing the way a few splinters poked out from the oars. It was a ghastly sight and a miracle that it had managed to take you this far without sinking. Shaking your head, you came up with the best excuse you could think of,

"I was robbed by a pirate. I was hoping at least one of you would show some mercy and help me find that treacherous man." 

"Was it Jack Sparrow?" Another soldier chimed in, his voice so delicate as he uttered the name.

"Precisely!" You whispered, excitedly as you wriggled your eyebrows, "Have you seen him lurking about here? I ought to give him a piece of mind!"

"Now, now, listen here, you don't have to do anything," The third soldier cried out with an exasperated sigh, "As misfortunate as your encounter with Sparrow must be, I implore you to go find yourself an inn for the time being." He had this air of haughtiness in his voice, one that made your frown deepen into a snarl. Biting the inside of your cheek, you pushed any emerging ill comments at him down to your boots and merely nodded your head in response.

Pushing past the soldiers, you trailed up the staircase to the cobbled streets of Port Royal and found a group of more soldiers running down the streets from The Governor's quarters. Frowning, your faintly heard the mention of Jack Sparrow among one of the redcoats that passed by you and you instantly figured out what was going on.

Crossing through an alley, you found a familiar set of beads dangling from an individual's head, hiding behind a wagon; he occasionally lifted his head to peer for any danger, unaware of your presence behind him.

"AHEM," You crossed your arms, glaring at him. Either he was ignoring you on purpose, or he was incredibly deaf and stupid. Rolling your eyes, you slapped the back of his head and watched him hurl into the wagon with a yelp of pain. He turned around on his heels, swiftly, narrowing his eyes for a moment to scan your face. Upon recognition, he grinned and held his hands up in the air,

"(Y/N)! Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" He exclaimed, holding onto your hands. You wriggled out of his grasps, before slapping him across his face, sharply.

"You moron! You left me aboard Barbossa's ship! After everything we've been through, I thought you were a brother to me! Family! You've decided to lurk about and be the prying little-"

"Whoa... now, love, we don't have much time to listen to your usual rants, do we?" Jack interjected your thoughts, raising a finger up. He swayed towards you, looking over your shoulder to ensure that there were no redcoats nearby. His eyes then glanced back towards you, "Listen, I think we should split ways and then meet up back at the docks. What do ya say?"

"I say no," You hiss, "I don't trust your words. We go together, or I'll throw you to the soldiers myself!"

"Darlin', you're a pirate too. You're only doing yourself a disservice here," Jack scoffed, and you clutched onto his collar,

"Try me. You cross me one more time, I won't care if you're my captain or like a brother to me, I shall drive my sword through your head and watch you scream for mercy." You threatened him, before shoving him off. Jack dusted his coat, creasing out the new wrinkles you caused with what he assumed was an indifferent expression on his face - he couldn't hide the slight fear your words caused him. 

As you extended your hand out for Jack to accept, the thunderous footsteps of the redcoats just around the corner caused you both to pick your feet up and run. Jack had hopped over among the roofs, and you had run inside a blacksmith's keep. Grabbing a sword from the sleeping blacksmith, you were set to head back out when you had noticed a shadow emerge from the other side of the door. 

"Oh, bollocks," You whisper, in a panicked tone, leaping behind a wooden table somewhere far enough for cover. You heard the footsteps of someone patter across the room, shifting through some equipment before they loudly whispered,

"Not where I left you..." 

Ah, so it was a man. And judging by the sound of his voice, he was pretty young. You peered, carefully, from the table and noticed his ponytail, and his well-fitted yet a bit dirty clothes. He wasn't bad-looking, surprisingly. He tapped his foot, impatiently, before drawing out his own sword and turned to your hiding spot. Sighing in defeat, you stood up from the cramped place and stretched your arms with a lazy yawn, stalking over to him.

"You're a pirate," He spat, his sword dragging up and down the air as he gestured at you.

"I'm also a lady. Now, this can go two ways. Either you let me go and I find myself back to Jack Sparrow, or I kill you... and find myself back to Jack Sparrow." You reasoned, forcing a smile at him as you made your way to the exit. Within seconds, you felt the tip of the blade against your chin, turning your head to face him. He had a deathly glare on his face but his eyes spoke of something else. Seeing that there was no way out of this without blood being shed, you raised an eyebrow,

"Come now, love, must there be hostility? Fine then, have it your way." You spat, before dragging your sword and jabbing it towards his stomach. He deflected my attack, and swung his sword around towards your neck. Dodging backwards, you lunged forward and elbowed his gut before parrying the thrust of his sword. He fell back for a moment, catching his breath as he shook his head,

"That's cheating." He breathed out between pants.

"Well, that's life, and now help a lady out and let her escape." You snickered, prying his fingers off his sword.

"Ah, but that's where you're mistaken... you're a pirate." The young man smirked, and the front door swung open with Jack at the hands of the redcoats, a sheepish look attached to his stupid face. Glancing back to the now standing young man, you found yourself handcuffed and dragged off with Jack besides you. 

William didn't fail to notice your menacing glare as you were taken away and he let out a proud smirk at the sight. And yet, something felt wrong. In all the years as a blacksmith's apprentice, nothing had excited him as much as this encounter had. He turned to the burning furnace, his thoughts fixated on seeing you.

For one more time, at least.

[vagabond-umlaut]

it's easy to ferry souls, not carry them

deep down in the realm of the netherworlds, there exists a rower who transports deceased souls from the land of living to the land of dead-

and occasionally lends an ear and a hand, in the event of yet another collision between their weary queen and her just as cheery suitor...

[uraume deserves a raise.]

▸gojo satoru x fem!reader; the tale of kore!gojo & hades!reader w a guest appearance by charon!uraume; uraume is a very nice parental figure to you [ooc!uraume but ehh]; the reader is honestly so sweet and hot-tempered...; the cutest doggy cerberus too is there!!!!; gojo satoru must be his own warning...; uraume does not like gojo [no parent [blood-related or not] actually wld]; fire hazards; 2k wc

▸ i've nvr read percy jackson and wtv i wrote here is based on my shaky knowledge of greek myths and stuff 😁😁 anyways, this header's from pinterest, these dividers are by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls do not plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ belongs to series 'wreaths of asphodel' – same universe as the work 'hey, where is the pomegranate tree?' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

"why is kore so set on marrying me, uraume?"

it isn't the ask itself which causes the rower to nearly lose grip of their oar– but the way it is spoken: soft, solemn and faintly tense. they look away from the endless expanse of the styx before, to find you staring at your reflection in the inky waters, features unnaturally crumpled.

uraume holds back a frown. "has her majesty considered asking the god the same?"

"i have asked him," you mumble, "but i did not receive any conclusive answer in return. the imp was being too vague– must be a trait learnt from those shifty nymphs always sticking to his side."

if your faithful follower detects anything except dislike in your words, they make no mention of it. merely humming as they continue to row the boat, "and may this servant know the question her majesty asked the god?"

"two," you mumble even more clumsily now; they take a beat to grasp it, too concerned by the way you drape yourself over the edge, nearly falling into the water as you say, "i asked him two questions— one, if he loves me; two, if he wants to have children should we get married."

shock must not be uraume's first reaction to these queries, yet it is— and for a moment, it isn't you sitting there anymore.

instead, it is a little girl, no older than seven or eight years, cherubic face fixed in a look of deep concentration and fascination while the rower narrates to her stories from times millennia ago–

only for the child to morph into a young lady– no, goddess– the very next beat... slouched under a regal cloak too heavy for her shoulders, under a royal crown too large for her head... that sweet innocence of childhood nothing but traces now, having been withered by the foul, dirty politics of those damned deities high up on that mountain—

"what answers did the olympian offer her majesty?"

"he said he would love me and sire my children if that is what i want— i asked if he wished anything out of our union— he said all he wanted is to be my husband–"

something between a frustrated sigh and an exhausted scoff erupts from you, becoming an opaque fog the moment it hits the frigid air of the underworld. uraume plucks the oar out the water to come sit next to you, letting the boat be driven by magic.

"you're worried," they state, forgoing all formalities in favour of giving you some much-needed comfort. you never much cared for stations anyways, quite unlike your elder brother, the former king.

"an unfamiliar friend poses more risk than a familiar enemy, uraume," you mutter, resting your head on their shoulder, "why do you think kore wishes to marry me so much, if not out of love or the prospect of the powerful offsprings we might beget?"

"marriage is not solely for love or for procreation," the rower starts to explain, mildly amused before it grows into sympathy at your baffled expression.

ah, they muse fondly, not unlike a parent watching their child witness the world seemingly the first time ever since they learnt to walk, you who presides over something as profound as death yet knows not of the trivialities of life...

"it can also be for many other reasons like–"

the remainder of the words skitter away from uraume— cerberus is playing with gojo.

the fierce guard of the netherworlds, the three-headed hound, loyal and dutiful to a fault: hades' dearest canine companion is frolicking with the god of life in a green meadow, that most certainly was not there so close to the stygian marsh, when they last—

"gojo is laughing," your remark draws them away from their musings, only to find a changed shadow over your countenance— pensive yet not thinking at all; almost as if you too are floating in the stale air of your kingdom akin the soft flower petals...

another ring of raucous laughter pierces the silence, mingled with a delighted series of barks— cerberus is busy licking gojo's face now, the olympian reduced to a puddle of giggles as he scratches behind the dog's ears.

his happiness so clear in the stretch of his grin and the crinkle of his eyes, very much the jarring contrast to the last time—

oh. oh, oh, oh–

"escape," the word leaves uraume in a sudden moment of realisation, as quiet as a breath but loud enough for you to whip your head back to face them, confusion engraved into your scowl. "escape?? what is that supposed to mean, eh?"

the rower feels their lips lift into an infrequent smile. "the god of life wishes to marry you to escape— from his mother, or from his many suitors, or perhaps from mount olympus itself."

"wha– how– hah," you breathe out a disbelieving little huff, "that is simply ridiculous. have you even heard yourself? that is ridiculous."

used to such resistance from yourself, even more from your brother, they move to state their points, only to beaten by you as you persist to speak.

"no one in their right mind will decide to come live in the underworld, no matter how overbearing their mother or insistent their suitors are. have you seen this place? it's too, too unlike the lushness of the earth or the grandeur of the heavens he has experienced. and–" you add, a harsh laugh accompanying it. "gojo satoru is a god. a fish might leave the water— but a god never steps a voluntary foot down that horrible mountain. never."

"but the olympian never truly lived on mount olympus," uraume says once they're sure you've completed your tirade, "and you are a goddess as well. why do you speak so ill of the heavens then?"

"why?" you echo the word. they nod, hoping you take the bait they've intended for you. you do.

"why, because that place is nothing but a shining apple with a rotten core!! everything is polished marble and glittering gold there. people constantly wave at each other, lavishing smiles and praises like there is no tomorrow. everything is so warm and bright— what a bunch of lies and liars!"

familiar fire burns in your aura, the immense heat making the waters erupt into boiling— uraume uses their powers to cool the river down, lest anything disturbs you.

you're too far gone in your rage to be shaken, however, continuing:

"but it never can hide the grime and dirt accrued beneath such shine and sheen. nor the vicious minds and crooked hearts of those deities up above– what lame excuses of gods and goddesses, hah. and you might think me to prefer the light and warmth up there— you will be sorely wrong, my dear uraume!! i much prefer the genuine darkness and frigidity of my beloved kingdom to the faux comfort of the awful mount olympus—"

"is there no possibility the god of life too despises mount olympus for these same reasons, milady?"

you open your mouth and close it, then open it again to let out a very aggrieved whine– momentarily transporting uraume to your younger days. the rower merely chuckles when you punch their arm lightly.

"you're the worst, uraume," you cry, getting up and moving to sit on the other end of the boat. the rower too rises but only to resume rowing the boat by the oar.

"you never spoke this way when sukuna was the ruler— only because his baby sister is the ruler now, and you think she is very stupid—"

"as much as i respect and revere lord sukuna, he wasn't one to listen to anyone else," uraume interrupts gently, "you do, though– which is why i spent so much time telling you this. i hope you did not mind."

"hey, no," you immediately wave away their concern with a wide grin, eliciting a smaller one from the latter, "i could never..."

another peal of laughter and barks rings through the otherwise-quiet. you abruptly trail off, the same conflicting expression from before on your face yet again. though not without a spark in your eyes, uraume notes, almost as if you're slowly learning how to solve the puzzle who is repeatedly offering himself to you.

uraume keeps the silence you initiate, choosing to row the boat while you keep staring at the assortment of hues near the stygian marsh...

until you call their name and declare, an odd firmness in your smile, "well then, it is decided. i shall allow gojo to stay here for as long as the god so wishes to, escaping whatever or whoever he is escaping. and i shall protect him from the latter, should it ever come for him."

a beat. your smile falls into something graver. "would it be better if i swore by the dread water of styx, uraume?"

"uh, um," the rower finds themselves at a loss of words, the first time in seemingly forever, and they have been around since titanomachy– but before they can recover themselves enough to formulate a proper reply, a giggly voice joins in—

"well, if my rose does that, i would consider myself the most blessed amongst all mortals and immortals!"

— and the waters surrounding the boat shoot upwards in a scathing geyser-like jet and steam— the ferocious queen of the netherworlds visibly torn between remorse and terror, as they offer uraume a stiff nod and gojo a horrified look, before vanishing in a wisp of fog.

the boiling waters of the river styx calm down only after a twenty-minute-long struggle by uraume, joined at the very end by gojo.

the latter looks positively delighted, when the former collapses to the bottom of the boat, exhausted beyond belief. "hey, charon. was that a result of your queen getting flustered by me, huh?"

yes, it was. it very much was, the sentences nearly slip past the tired rower's crumbling defences... until it hits them– who they serve, and who they don't.

uraume decides to throw back a glare and a lie. "her majesty was not flustered, lord kore. she was enraged at how you invaded the privacy of her weekly boat ride, intended to make her relax."

"oh, puh-lease," the god makes a face. the rower is certain he would have been punished in the pits of tartarus for all eternity, then some more were he to pursue you this way during your brother's reign, let alone disrespect you thus.

ignorant and insolent, he continues, "in few days time, i'll be allowed into the privacy of her living quarters; what is the privacy of her boat th—"

"you're lucky you did not make such outrageous remarks in front of the queen," uraume cuts him off, none too kindly nor gently, "if you did, her majesty would have certainly burnt you along with the boat to a crisp–"

"i know," comes the defeated reply within the instant. and while gojo is still not in uraume's good graces, the latter decides to notch him a level higher, considering the god of life accepts their queen's powers.

not many do.

he strikes a pathetically pitiful figure, uraume reckons, seeing him sit then slouch on the bench. "was she serious when she said she would protect me?"

your loyal subject nods, certain and solemn. "yes, she was. the queen is never careless when it comes to making promises."

"oh, that's reassuring," gojo says quietly— only to recline even further in the very next beat– an anguished, grating wail tearing from him to the stifling silence looming near the stygian marsh. uraume wonders if it is worth it to steer the boat towards acheron... then push him into its waters of woe...

they decide against it on catching the desperation worn by the god.

for all it is, it might nothing more than a ploy. yet something tugs at their mind to pause and listen when gojo howls, "why does my rose always scurry away after tilting my world on its axis? why does your queen always torment me like this, charon?"

uraume stares pensively at their face in the sacred waters of styx for a while. then heaves a mighty sigh.

certain, this exchange between the goddess of the dead and the god of life will impact not only your and gojo's respective worlds— but the general world and everyone else in it, as well.

did you know, in the actual greek myths, persephone was never called so before her marriage to hades? she got it only after, w the name meaning "bringer of death". her initial name was kore, referring to her being a maiden & the spring goddess.

the river styx was called the "dread river of oath" by homer– in both the iliad and the odyssey [greek epic poems], swearing by its waters is the "greatest and most dread oath for the blessed gods" -> this shows how serious the reader is towards ensuring gojo's safety and freedom, and how deeply this affects gojo as well [source: wiki 😇]

also: the reader is totally ready to jump into the water to swim away when she realises gojo was listening in on her conversations- but then she remembers she can js vanish away and so she does js tht— the queen of the underworld, and of escaping, hehe

also also: the reader is slightly jealous when she is talking of the shifty nymphs always sticking to gojo's side. [uraume identifies it; you think it is js your usual dislike to such frivolous things and ppl as flowers and nymphs etc.] [hades is emo imho 😊]

▸ masterlist

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

hi I am the anon from the other day I was thinking about being in a established relationship w Don and he has a rough day a practise I don’t have your talent at writing lol so do what you please after that ahah

Perfect Form

Don Hume x fem reader

wc: 2,900

tbitb masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️ : smut, little plot, mdni, minors get out right now, penetration, fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, Don denying his own orgasm, aftercare

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Don’s skin glimmers with sweat. His hair is wet and slicked back from his shower not even twenty minutes ago. His pants leaning into his forearms that prop him up over you. His hips roll gently, and he slides in and out of you irritatingly slow. 

“Don.” You whisper, reaching up to touch his cheek. He’s burning, face heavily blushed from the bridge of his nose and down his neck and chest, “need you to go harder.”

His eyes blink open, glancing over you agitated features. They travel down your sternum and stomach and catch on the desperate thrust of your hips to meet him. Instead of helping you out, he places a mean hand on your hip bone and pushes you down, holding you still. His pace does not change, arousal soaking the juncture of your bodies and poisoning the air. You whine at him and try to push against him but the only measured strain it takes to keep you down is the new flex in his bicep. “Just lay down and take what I give you—” 

“C’mon, Hume!”

“Faster, Hume!”

Bobby wouldn’t let him catch a break. Poor Don had been catching crabs all morning, his oar piercing the water at the wrong angle or the wrong time. Something was always wrong with him. 

“Don’t give me that shit, Donny! You can do better!”

“What is that form!”

He just needed to breathe for a second, get his feet under him. He could Joe angrily huffing behind him. Shorty groaning in frustration behind Joe. All Don could feel were their annoyed glares and the sting of their complaints. He was in the stroke seat, he could not afford to be off his game ever and yet there he was, floundering like an idiot. 

“Get it together, you’re slowing this boat down!”

“Pull that again and you’re outta that seat!”

He did not get better by the end of practice and the crew would not get off his case. They complained on the way to the locker room, inside the locker room, in the showers, on their way out of the shell house. Coach Ulbrickson couldn’t even give him the time of day, telling him “If you don’t have yourself sorted out by tomorrow, we’re gonna have problems.” As if Don hadn’t been told off enough. He fumbled through his routine, tuned out to half of what everyone was saying. He tugged on his jacket and then his shoes, not even bothering to tie the laces. 

At this point the crew was more concerned than they were angry. Don was quieter than usual. His face was long and sullen. His gaze distant.

“What’s wrong with Don?”

“What should we do about Don?”

“How can we help Don?”

On and on and he just wanted everyone to shut up and let him fix whatever problem he’s got. He left the locker room, his hair still dripping with the shower water. He found his way to your room without even thinking about, subconsciously knowing what he needed. 

“F-fuck! You feel too good.” His head dips, hair tickling your collarbone. Your hands tangle in the dark strands of hair at the at the back of his head, holding him close. His bare body moves rhythmically. Slow and steady and restrained. He just wants to feel you, prove to himself that he as control. You’d offered to ride him, let him rest his tired body but he flat out refused and shut you up with a kiss. “Just—I just—” As he trails off his pace slows even more. 

“Don! Don, please!”

You can’t handle this leisure fucking, you want him faster and harder. The drag of his cock through your drenched walls is lugging you to a harrowing climax. You feel that knot forming in the pit of your stomach. The broiling heat that electrocutes your veins and shocks your muscles. 

“Faster, faster, faster…”

But Don just doesn’t listen. His thrusts remain soft, and his pace still relaxed. It frustrates you to no end and the need curls painfully inside of you. You arch off the bed, straining against the hand pinning you to the mattress. Your hands latch onto his shoulders. You actually gain some leverage against him which allows you to buck your hips into his oncoming thrust. The excess force creates the most delicious sensation as his thick cock is stuffed further into your soaked pussy. 

“Hn—ngh!” Don’s lashes flutter and his brows draw tight, “Ha’ahfuck! Don’t do that.” The way you squeeze him makes his head spin. Not to mention the fact you’re now grinding back. Don reckons that the only way to keep you still is to drop his full weight onto you. 

That glorious feeling of finally getting that mind-tickling pleasure dies away has Don’s sweaty skin presses fully to yours. Chest to chest, you’re effectively trapped between him and the mattress. “No-no. Why won’t you let me,” his lips cover yours in a callous kiss. The taste of that mint gum he likes to chew spreads over your tongue as his licks into your mouth. Your teeth clack, noses knocking as he rips away your precious breath. Your hands rake down his freckled arms. His own rough hands chase them down and fill in the gaps between your fingers and jam them into the pillows. Aside from your legs, folded by his hips, you’re completely stuck. 

“Will you jus’ listen to me.” His lips abandon yours and he resumes his cold-hearted pace. 

Tears well in your eyes, blurring his facial features and strangling your throat. It softens Don up a little as he watches you begin to cry because it’s how he’s been feeling all day. Finding some sympathy, Don grants you a deeper, harder thrust. He feels your stomach spasm at the newfound sensation. Your insides churn and you toss your head back and moan. Don tucks his knees under you, lifting your pelvis onto his thighs and forcing you to spread your legs wider. You squeeze his hands and sob as he hits deeper. His cock head drags over your g-spot, that rough little patch inside you that makes you twitch, with each of his calculated thrusts. Slick paints your folds, squelching as he pulls out to the tip and then shoves all his length and girth back in. You’re speechless and squirming and totally helpless to his whims. 

“Better?” He plants a kiss on your tear-streaked cheekbone and nuzzles. 

You choke and moan again, but you don’t try to fight him. Instead, your toe curls and you twist. Your orgasm is building faster than he wanted but he figures he can just give you more. He feels the stress of the day melting away as he watches you slip into the mind-numbing pleasure he gives you. He does that. He does it perfectly and controlled and with excellent form. 

“That’s right. You fucking love this, don’t you? Love me and my dick.” 

You wail and shudder as your insides uncoil. He delivers one more measured stroke and you cum hard. Your curl into him as your muscles tense. Clutching onto his hands so tight the knuckles crack. He can’t even move his hips once your legs lock together behind him. The waves of your orgasm wash over you and your walls wring out wetness around him. He wants to cum too, so bad, but he forces his way out of your hold and lets his climax fizzle out before it can shred him.

You whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes peel open to see him not far away, hovering over you and breathing deeply. His thumb finds your clit and draws circles around the under stimulated bud. “Why...” You can’t catch your breath. “Why did you not—”

“Don’t want this to be over just yet.” 

Don scoops you up and moves you towards the top of the bed. Your back rests against the headboard, a pillow jammed under your hips. He props your legs open and plants a few kisses on your sternum and ribcage before trailing down your belly. Your spasming, dripping core is fully exposed to him and he ravishes you with a ravenous tongue. 

The velvety muscle curls and licks around your clit. It moves fluidly through your folds and prods your clenching entrance. “Hnn, Don!” You’re sensitive and lightheaded and now he’s giving you more than you bargained for. 

He mouths at your core for a while, making an even bigger mess of you. Your fingers tug at his hair and grab at his shoulders but he cannot be coaxed away. His lips, bruised from your rough kiss, suck on your clit and drive you insane. He braces his hands on your thighs and dips his tongue into your hole. You shiver and grind against his mouth as he tongue-fucks your sensitive core. Each brush of his tongue along your walls makes your toes curl and your chest heave. You didn’t get a chance to really recover from the last orgasm he gave you and he’s already steadily working you towards another. 

His thumbs find the petal-soft labia and spreads your folds. You bawl. His tongue flattens out and draws over your exposed parts. Don is relentless in this, his coarse tastebuds relishing the sweetness at oozes out of your cunt. He licks from your clit to your hole, circles the tip just around the inside, then licks back to your clit. Don suckles at the bundle until your thighs shake before he allows his teeth to graze the swell of nerves. Slick and saliva drip down his chin even as he slurps down what he can. 

You chant his name, “Don. Don. Don—” desperate and horny.

His hand leaves your clammy thigh, a rough fingertip pressing on the edge of your hole. His mouth works your clit, a faint slurping filling the breaths between your noises. One long finger pushes in. Then a second. Two rugged digits stroke your pussy and make you squirm. “Fuck Don, fucking—hell!” He can barely hear you cursing he’s so immersed. When you’re not looking at him buried between your thighs or studying the back of your eyelids, you’re watching his hips hump the comforter and sheets. 

Freckles like constellations dot his sinuous back. The pointed ridge of his spine divides the expanse of muscle. He’s tense. Still bothered by whatever has gotten into him today. He digs his fingers into that sore spongy g-spot and you writhe. Pleasure radiates from your overwhelmed core. The next high approaches fast as an avalanche. He works a third finger into you and it’s over. You go completely rigid as you cum again, gushing around his fingers. 

“That’s it, makin’ such a mess.” Don smirks, lips shining with cum.

You think he’s finished when his mouth leaves your cunt and lunges into a sloppy kiss, but then his fingers drag through your folds and pinch your clit. You jolt and keen, still fighting through the aftershocks of the last orgasm, and now he’s belligerently overstimulating that sensitive bud. You can’t get a word in with his tongue down your throat either, all you can do his clutch at him and whimper.

Once your lungs are exhausted of air, his mouth pops off your lips and he wedges himself between your thighs. “Stop trying to close your legs.” 

“Please—it’s so—f-fuck-ing—I can’t!”

“You can take it.”

His fingers rub fast, slicked up by your cum. He catches your clit between his digits and pinches again; it’s just enough pressure to border on pain. He bullies you against the headboard and steals your words away again. You try to kiss him back only to pant into his grin as you begin to wheeze. You don’t know what to do with your hands. Your blood is boiling, body spasming, your mind blank. Your third orgasm hits just as hard as the first two, making you cry out. He eases you down and pulls you back down the bed. He falls into place behind you and lifts one of your tired legs.

“Don, I can’t.”

“Give me one more, one more.” He promises, arm wrapping protectively around you. Your body feels like lead as the arm curled around you props your leg up. The other disappears and then promptly reappears with his cock pinched between his fingers. He pushes the tip through your folds and collects your slick. He’s already drenched in precum, a wet spot on the sheets from where he was grinding.  “Can you do that for me?” He rests the tip against your weeping hole, waiting for you to reply. “Need you to talk to me, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, I—yes,”

He nudges the tip in and gently works his way back in. He’s long and thick and well aware that he’s a lot to take whether or not he was just inside you minutes ago. But he’s going too slow, that same stupid pace that drove you nuts earlier. 

“Not again, Don, please not a-again!” Fat tears drop across the bridge of your nose as you slump against him.

Don’s free hand soothes you, “Shh, don’t worry, just don’t want to hurt you.” Upon your distressed whines he begins to fuck, hard and fast. He rests his cheek on your temple and rolls his hips as fast as he can while still pushing deep. You go alarmingly silent, and gun grabs ahold of your chin. “Hey, hey, you okay?” 

“Hnnn!” 

You clench and his pattern falters, he’s painfully hard and hungry for release but you must cum first. You raise up on one elbow; Don follows and slips his arm through the newly formed crevice. His fingers find the pert pink but that is your nipple and trace around it. He flicks it back and forth and eventually pinches it between his index and thumb. A drawn-out cry leaves your drooling lips. Don’s free hand finds lifted knee and he hoists it even higher and rolls his hips harder. 

“Oh—” your head falls back, and Don pecks your temple. “I-hah-have to…gonna cum.”

“Yeah?”

Don fucks you so hard the bed creaks and mattress shifts, his skin slaps against yours and leaves behind a sharp sting. His leftover frustration bubbles up and takes over. He’s absolutely savage in giving you your last climax. Broken moans tumble out of his lips as your pussy constricts around him. You suck up empty breaths and Don knows you’re close. He drapes your suspended leg over his hip and reaches for your clit. He musters up enough coordination to find his way through the mess and stroke the aggravated organ. He feels where his cock has stretched you and lets out the most guttural groan as he pinches his throbbing cock between his fingers. 

Black spots obscure your vision as you cum. You thrash and collapse into him, “I got you. I got you. I’m right here.” He whispers into your ear as you cream around him. He takes it for as long as he can withstand, wanting to help you ride out your high, but when the dam bursts he has to pull out and roll onto his back. He strokes himself from balls to tip once, twice, before his insides are racked with his delayed orgasm, and he spills creamy white semen all over his stomach. He pulls you close, rubbing your tummy with the hand still tucked under you. 

“You alright?” He partially sits up and brushes back your hair. Sweat has beaded on your forehead and your eyes have shut tight. He jostles your shoulder until you nod. “Good, let me clean you up.” 

He climbs off the mattress and crosses the room on his shaky legs. He draws a warm bath, adding some bubbles to it before scooping you up setting you in the tub. “Are you okay, Donny?” Your eyes open just a hair and kiss his hand. The blisters and callouses hurt your heart. 

“I am now.” He returns the kiss to your nose before turning to analyze the state of your room. The mattress is damn near falling off the bedframe and the sheets have somehow been tugged from the corner. He lugs the mattress back onto the frame and replaces the sheets. He scrubs his cum off his belly then he’s climbing into the bath with you. The hot water eases the soreness in his whole body. 

You soak together, billing and cooing about the day. Don lets it slip about practice and you snort. “That’s what this has been about?” 

“Hey, now,” A smile plays at his lips as you tease.

You swat him, “Don’t even play innocent. Not after what you just did.” 

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m only teasing, Donny, I’m good.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, you worry wart.” You kiss his tender lips. He cleans you with soap and and washes your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. For a while you rest your head on his chest. Until your eyelids become heavy and you’re in danger of falling asleep in the bathtub. Don helps you out of the tub and into some pjs before he’s ushering you into bed. “You should stay.”

“You want me to?”

“You ask too many questions, Don, get in.” He slips in and nestles himself against you. He’s still bare, knowing he’ll get too hot in his sleep and also knowing what he’ll be like in the morning. The only reason her got you dressed was for the soul purpose and privilege of undressing you later. But that’s for the morning and for now he just wants to cuddle up and sleep off a long day. 

...

Dear reader,

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this fic please check out my other works on my masterlist. Requests are open if you want to ask . Have a nice day.

-the author