#two lord vegas

[abybweisse]

Ch190, Spoiler: Layla might be Canopus after all!

According to a fan translation I saw today, Lau tells Baldo how funny it is that they are both Canopus, since they are from China and the US, respectively... and we know Layla says Lau and Baldo are both her "food".

So... I might have been right all along that she's Canopus, not Vega with this Al person.

Hmm 🤔

[izaiaiza]

When I say I like men, I mean these men. The crossover you all never expected.

[averagepsychouser]

The NCR when they see I’ve chosen to kill the president again

[kiska-enthusiast]

beyoncé is up to something and I’m gonna make a formal apology to all my mutuals in advance bc I’m gonna have a serious freakout

[dainesanddaffodils]

me, initially writing my lake house novel draft: I’m not sure whether Kerri and Leigh will be romantic or platonic, we’ll just see where the narrative takes this 

me, re-reading the draft nearly 5 years later: good lord you two are so obviously in love it’s ridiculous 

[ybklix]

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

[oneforthemunny]

light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

[tarjapearce]

Iridiscent (Pt.2)

PirateAU!Miguel x Mermaid!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Historical Figure use, mild sexual situations, a dash of history inaccurracy just for the sake of the plot, implied mysticism, character origins, mourning and grief, mentions of slavery.

Summary: The origins of The Red Eyed Demon.

Pt. 3

I apologize in adavance if this one is a bit too boring or too difficult to read, they'll meet ;) I promise <;3 . Hope you like!

The incessant wailing of a toddler echoed through the barns of the sugar cane plantation. English man with wide eyes as he held a knife, looking how the olive skinned woman flailed like a fish out of water, gaping her mouth open as blood flooded her airways.

Air stagnant in iron, horse shit and sweat. Each odor fighting to see who was the stronger one in the secluded area. The man dropped the knife as he tried to dress his lower parts as quickly as he could. His wide and horrified sight settled in the woman that, despite having her life slipping through the deep wounds, tried to reach for the crying toddler.

The woman choked as the tiny human hiccuped watching his mama.

Everything went still.

"Conchata!" the man panicked when the true commanding voice of Hacienda De La Vega, called for the woman that laid before him, lifeless.

He was the foreman, and of course he would have authority above everything that breathed under his command, even the owner's favorite plaything. Conchata.

The woman was beautiful, cinnamon skin, dark ravenous hair that reached to her waist, pouty lips, strong nose, high cheek bones, eyes that could kill with a single look as they were a deep shade of red, almost mahogany, hooded under thick brows, a plump hourglass figure that had captured almost immediately the owner's attention as she came down the slave shipment he just had acquired in Veracruz, México, long ago. A rare gem among coal and stones that had given birth to a bastard child.

And now, she was gone, dead on the floor after trying to retaliate the big english man that was trying to force himself on her as she was attending her duties in the barn. Anger took over him as she denied him multiple times with a plain disgusted expression on her sharp features.

"Conchata!" The owner, Guillermo de la Vega, called again, worry laced with anger in his voice. The forgotten infant looked at the door, as his tiny face contorted into a crying one.

"¿Dónde se habrá metido esa mujer?" (Where did that woman go?)

The foreman escaped. It took a couple of hours for the crime to be discovered. Guillermo could only look with heavy eyes as his lover was taken out, and thrown in the mass grave down the hill that was used to bury the ones that were too weak and sick to withstand life itself. After all, he had an image to uphold.

"Mi señor, ¿qué haréis con el infante?" (My lord, what must be done with the baby?)

Her spaniard accent thick as she spoke. The little boy resembling his mother raised little to no suspicions as to who was the father, was nested in her arms quietly.

The midwife asked as the little boy had cried himself to sleep. He was but two years old.

"Dáselo a una de las esclavas que lo cuide. De preferencia una que esté amamantado." (Give him to one of the slaves. Preferably one that is nursing.)

-----

The boy was now twelve years old, features a bit more prominent and the resemblance to his old love had settled in. Despite his age, the boy was tall and his face was already showing the hardships of life, frown on his brows as he dug yet another grave, this time wasn't for another slave that died under poor conditions, no.

Miguel had taken his bittersweet time in digging a grave comfortable enough for the person that perpetually rested next to him. Adia, an african slave that had nursed him to health, wiped his tears, consoled him the best she could at the hard, cold, lonely nights in the settlement. A woman that without a doubt had taken him in, and had turned into his mother. The only form of love he had known so far.

He had begged Guillermo to have her burried, De la Vega accepted with the condition that he would have to do it himself, since everyone was busy enough as it was in the sugar cane harvesting season. It had been hours since he was shoveling dirt. His tears watered the land. Adia had died out of malaria.

At everyone's sight, Miguel was trying to put his mother's body on the grave, but it was too heavy. He sobbed in frustration and kicked dirt. Cold realization hit harder than a whipping on his flesh, there would be no more sleeping stories, none to wait for him after helping in the fields, none to sing him to sleep when his nightamares frequented him at night, none that actually cared for him.

Two other men had been kind enough to help him as they tried to keep an eye for the foreman. One of them patted Miguel on the shoulder, a measly yet comforting gesture to show him compassion. Another form of love that was foreign to him. No words were needed.

Calloused, hard and shaky hands shoved dirt back, covering bit by bit the lifeless form of his mother. Oddly enough, the vocalizations of the men and women around that shared the same fate of slavery as him and origins of Adia, raised their voice in a foreign chant. A chant that promised a new start, in another life. Strangely enough; comforting, soothing to his aching little heart as he kept shoveling dirt back in it's place.

A forever farewell song.

----------

"¡Maldito hijo de puta!" (You son of a bitch!)

Miguel had rolled the loose leather handle of the weathered whip in his large hand and walloped his mother's killer with all his might, over and over again. The whip tore and ripped the feeble fabric of the supervisor's clothes to then tear viciously at his flesh, biting harder each time Miguel struck him down with it.

A gunshot resonated through the air, Miguel didn't stop.

"Golpeas a ese hombre una vez más, y el próximo en ser enterrado serás tú." (Strike that man one more time and you'll be the next one in being buried)

"¡Pues Hazlo! Pero primero lo mataré." (Then do it! But I'm killing him first)

Miguel's rage had consumed him, people just stared with horror at the damage he had done on the agonizing man. Eyes flashed red in anger, teeth baring as the overseer held his hands up in defense, a rather pathetic tactic to gain some sympathy from those witnessing his eventual fall.

Tall, yet lanky looking sixteen year old boy had whipped him real good, given him a taste of his own medicine. Some of the men in the back had been silently cheering on the boy

"No lo repetiré de nuevo, Miguel."(I won't repeat myself again, Miguel)

"¡Él mató a mi mamá! ¡Este maldito animal la mató!" (He killed my mother! This fucking animal killed her)

Tears were simmering in his eyes as he struck once more. No gunshot came. A bone shrilling cry snapped Guillermo out of his stupor. Glaring at the boy, he put the gun away and marched towards both.

"¿Qué acabas de decir?" (What did you just said?) His voice wasn't threatening, rather confused and surprised at Miguel's accusation.

"¡¿Qué no oyes?! ¡Este maldito bastardo mató a Conchata, mi madre. Mi verdadera madre! ( Are you deaf? This fucking bastard killed Conchata, my mother. My real mother!)

He didn't mean to insult or despise Adia's memory and efforts in his upbringing, but his origins was something he had always been denied no matter how much he cried for answers.

It all took one night to remain hidden as he watched one of the women being dragged away from the group by the overseer and had his fun with her, and not exactly in a willing way.

The rapist was admitting his crimes one by one as he thrusted harder into the poor girl, marveling at the fact that none had caught him so far. Not even Guillermo himself. He detailed how he killed them, but turned vicious as he explained how he ended the life of a certainslave that refused him because she was in love of his master, and even had a boy with him.

A bastard child.

The thought sparked a fire he thought long gone, and when his mother's killer was unaware the next day as he was polishing his shoes, his punishment begun.

Miguel had aimed to kill him, not caring if it took him hours. He cursed and spat at the man. Guillermo took him by the arms softly but he flinched at his touch.

De La Vega could only stare at him, a bit of himself on his features, strong jaw, his prominent height and frame were his doings. And so was the hatred Miguel looked back at him. His son had grown.

Guillermo turned around and left. A killer and a hero at sixteen.

--------

The sound of the canons blowing all he had known made him freeze in his spot. Bells rang more than his ears allowed to tolerate, people ran in all directions, trying to put themselves into safety.

Hacienda De La Vega was under attack.

"¡Aseguren las entradas! ¡No les permitan avanzar!" (Secure the entrances, do not allow them to advance!)

De la Vega barked orders as he shot a few pirates away from the walls.

Pirates.

A chill ran down Miguel's spine as he watched the men slaying the guards in their wake. Slaves, his friends, were all rounded up like cattle, as the rest of armed men shoot, killed, maimed, any foe on sight.

"Por Mundaca!"

He had been on his studies, something that Guillermo had insisted for him to partake in a few weeks later after the overseer was killed, despite the broken bond between them. He couldn't give Miguel properties and lands, but the least he could do was to give him the power of knowledge. His one and only gift towards him.

Everything happened in a blur. A ground shaking explosion had blown brick, stone and debris on Guillermo's position, erasing him from existence within a blink of an eye. Miguel's body was sent flying as another projectile impacted his study hall area. Glass and shrapnel cutting into his skin. Pain biting and screaming at his bones, he whimpered almost breathless as he tried to stand and go to a safer zone.

He passed out only to wake up being dragged down by a group of armed, tattooed and dangerous men. The captain, wore a black robe, big laced rimmed hat with a black large feather, a clear mockery to the Spaniards.

Fermín Antonio de Mundaca had attacked Hacienda De La Vega, thanks to the rumor that Guillermo bought the best slaves other privateers offered. And not only did he find that, but a rich property, women, spices and of course, Miguel.

Dark eyes fixed on the eighteen year old young man that had put some of his men to sleep despite being injured. Adrenaline pumping through his veins as he fought for his life.

"¡Alto!" (Stop)

Fermín barked as he sheathed his swords and marched towards a wobbly standing Miguel. Never in his life had seen someone this tall with spark.

"A este lo ponen a parte. Los demás van al fondo." (This one goes separately. The rest goes to the bottom)

An air knocking punch was the last thing Miguel felt before collapsing.

-------

Fermín was an outlaw accused of slave trafficking and commerce among other illicits by the Spaniards. By the time they had arrived to Cuba, his ship was one of the most expected by the pro-slavers settled in La Habana.

"¿Cuánto por él?" (How much is he?)

One of the buyers had asked as Miguel glared holes into the man.

"No se ve como los otros. ¿De dónde es?" (He doesn't look like the others, where is he from?)

"¿De dónde eres, muchacho?" (Where are you from, kid?)

Fermín asked in a serene tone, with curiosity in his eyes.

"De tu puta madre, cabrón" (Your fucking mother, you dipshit)

Fermín couldn't help but laugh merrily at his temper. The buyer gasped, horrified.

"Nacido y criado en alguna Hacienda española en Yucatán de seguro. No está a la venta." (Born and raised in a Spaniard estate for sure. He's not for sale)

Once the sale was over, Miguel was shackled and pulled to Fermín's headquarters. The ship once more sailing after restocking. The swaying movement made Miguel's stomach to churn. Fermín only chuckled as he removed his robe and hat.

Weathered face along some graying strands poking here and there and his trimmed yet irregular shaped beard. He was tall, but Miguel was taller.

"Not used to travel by ships?" Mundaca spoke in a chewed yet understandable english that had earned him what he possessed now. An unethical and morally questionable fortune born by the traffic and smuggling of lives.

Miguel frowned, confused at the sudden language switching.

"Te he preguntado si estás acostumbrado a viajar en barco. Pero, viendo lo pálido que estás, ya es una respuesta en sí misma." (I've asked you if are you used to travel by ship, but seeing how pale you are, it's already an answer itself.)

Mundaca served himself a cup of tea, to then sip it and smiling, relishing at it's flavor.

" ¿Porqué no me vendiste en Cuba?" (Why didn't you sell be back in Cuba?)

"¿Y desperdiciar el potencial que tienes? No me hagas reír." (And waste away your potential? Don't make me laugh.)

Miguel sighed and held his stomach, dizziness slowly taking over.

"¿Qué edad tienes?" (How old are you?)

"Dieciocho." (Eighteen.)

Mundaca stared at him, doubt splattered all over his face, it felt like a terrible joke said.

"¿Con esa altura, puedes hacerte pasar por lo menos de unos veinticinco años." (With that height you could pass as a twenty five yeard old)

"¿Para qué me tienes aquí?" (What am I here for?)

"Creí que era bastante obvio, niño." (Thought that was pretty obvious, kid.)

"Un esclavo toda tu vida, que probablemente nunca conoció a su madre, hijo bastardo, y un padre que nunca miraba en tu dirección, ¿cierto?" (A slave all your life that probably never met his mother bastard child and a father that barely or never looked your way. Right?)

Miguel's lips remained in a tight line.

" Tema delicado, ya veo." ( A delicate topic, I see.)

Mundaca finished his tea and gave a cup of water to Miguel, who quenched it in a gulp.

"De nada. Ahora, no tienes nada que perder, estás solo, pero puedo ayudarte en eso." (You're welcome. Now, You've got nothing to lose, you're on your own but I can help you with it.)

"No gusto de hombres, gracias." (I'm not into men, thanks.)

Fermín laughed almost into a fit, and only made Miguel's anger to rise again.

"¿Qué mierda te da tanta risa?" (What's so fucking funny?)

"Mira, niño, si realmente quisiera ese tipo de cosas, ya las hubiera tomado. Pero, piensa en grande, piensa más allá de lo que tu limitada imaginación puede." (Look, kid, if I'd want those sort of things, I would've already took them. But think big, think beyond what yout limited imagination can)

" ¡Riquezas, mujeres, propiedades por todo el mundo produciendo para tí! No tienes que darle explicaciones a nadie, y si las debes, sólo matas y escapas." (Wealth, women, properties all over the world producing for you! , you won't owe none an explanation, and if you do, just kill them and escape.)

"No soy un pirata." (I'm not a pirate)

Mundaca rolled his eyes and smirked

"Nadie es un pirata hasta que la probreza y la injusticias de la sociedad te arrastran y te obligan a serlo, muchacho." (None is a pirate until poverty and social injustices drag you down and force you to be one, kid.)

"Nadie es un maldito pirata hasta que los malditos ricos se ponen en guerra y las personas como nosotros sufren las consecuencias de dicha guerra" (None is a fucking pirate until the fucking rich wage their wars and it's people like us who suffer the consequences of said wars)

Miguel gulped as his eyes casted down, pondering in the elder man's words. He was slightly privileged to at least know hoe to read and write properly, a simple yet powerful difference between him and the people he used to bury.

"No hay malditas oportunidades en tierra firme, muchacho. Mientras los ricos se dan un banquete cada noche en base a nuestro sudor y sangre, los pobres mueren olvidados, solos y enfermos. Y me rehúso a eso." (There are no fucking opportunities on land, kid. While the rich feast each night thanks to our blood and sweat, poor ones die forgotten, sick and alone. And I reject that)

"¿Entonces solo tomamos de nuevo lo que nos pertenece? "(So we just take back what belong to us?)

Mundaca smiled and unshackled Miguel.

"Tienes un largo camino por recorrer, muchacho. Pero primero es lo primero. Aprende inglés." (You've got a long way to go, kid. But first thing first. you must learn English.)

-----------

He had just raided his first ship. A Spaniard ship named "Valencia Co.", He found medicines, people, spices and some materials that could be used to repair some wilthered parts of the ship Mundaca had gotten him.

Excitement was almost turned into ecstasy. He had proven to be worthy of something more than just burying people he once held dear and loved.

Life on land had shaped his body, but life at sea and Mundaca had shapen his mind. Mundaca had taken him under his wing, fed him, trained him, taught him everything he knew.

One night he had admitted through a bit too much rum, that he was better father than his own ever was. His body had also changed.

Work and food on land had gained him muscles, his english although chewed, had earned him more open doors within navy engineers that worked for either privateers or royalty itself.

Even though he chose to decline Mundaca's lesson on slave trafficking, and their views on said topic had created a small rift between them, where Miguel would stay at Isla Mujeres as Fermín made sure to deliver the slaves. The twenty six year old, rookie pirate never participated in a smuggling. Lives were out of his list.

----

Miguel couldn't help but notice how Mundaca's health deteriorated the more he traveled.

"You gotta stay here, old man. Ya no estás para esos trotes." (You're no longer young for that sort of action.)

Fermín's laugh was unavoidable as he listened to Miguel.

"Shut up, O'Hara." O'Hara. A surname that he adopted after his carpentry instructor passed. Old, wrinkly yet honest and kind man that gave him a chance onnthe spot as he was sent to learn how to repair boats through a fake note.

Pretensions had been necessary to learn everything he knew, but never actually indulged too much in it. It felt a  disrespect to himself, even though it got some benefits.

"La trigueña looked at me today. She looked so beautiful as usual." Miguel was almost pitying his old man. A woman, 37 years younger than him, green eyes and overall pretty had been the reason of his sick look.

"Mundaca..." Miguel started but knew it was futile. Fermin had been deeply infatuated with the youngest daughter of the Pantoja family. Martiniana Gomez Pantoja, better known as "La Trigueña". Even killed his own crew to avoid any lose ends to reveal his location at Isla Mujeres where he finally settled down.

The portraits, pages full of poems, even small sculpts with a womanly face that resembled alot to Martiniana, loitered Mundaca's room. Fermín was unabashedly in love with her, but said obsession was taken too far when he out of the blue started to build "Vista Alegre", a estate that would be a gift to Martiniana. But of course, the young woman rejected him.

Crushing all his hopes once and for all. even though Miguel took him to Merida, to be medically assisted, Fermín Antonio de Mundaca ended up dying.

Once more, Miguel was alone, this time however he had much more than knowledge. He had a purpose. He took what Mundaca had inherited him, and used it to build his own ship. It was time to make his own history.

--------

He wasn't love sick, but definitely the woman had put him in a trance enough to make her be swollen with his child.

He was scared, even questioned way too many times if he would be a good father, something that was hard to grasp at the begining.

"Why do you stare at her like she will grow a second head?" The mother giggled as she looked from the doorframe of the small room. Miguel wasn't fancy, but practical. He provided enough for his family.

The sheer word made his skin crawl, the baby before him, a product of a one night stand, even though the woman played her role as a doting bride, he knew what she did behind his back. He couldn't be an hypocrite to call her anything but decent when he was much worse and still she had no idea.

She left as soon as she found out where Miguel went off to get money. She didn't hesitated in abandon him and their four year old daughter, Gabriela.

Oddly enough, despite living under the same roof, the both had felt like strangers sharing a common goal. As unethical both jobs were, they provided enough to keep the pretense of a good family. The mother couldn't complain of Miguel, he came home injured, but with enough money to live by another couple of months.

But of course, her leaving had put him in a difficult position where, he couldn't leave since none was willing to take care of his daughter, neither he trusted people to do so. And then, what he never thought possible, happened. Gabriela fell ill.

The Typhus had walloped mostly of the places in Campeche, and no matter how much he tried to look for medicines that would help his little girl to feel better, even being gullible enough to do small rituals that supposedly attracted mermaids to get one and make his wish true, nothing prepared him to see her exhale her last breath in his hands.

He spreaded her ashes in the sea, a reason why he turned himself into a full time pirate.

"Miguel?" The soft spoken voice had pulled him out the trance as the woman before rested her chin on his chest, staring with concern at him.

"Must be a powerful cunt if ye space out like that." The courtesan giggled but Miguel remained shut. A hand tucked behind his head as he rested on the perched pillows.

"What's on yer mind?" the woman asked as she gathered her clothes that had been discarded long ago. A few of the fancy courtesans that he knew was clean. Her sight drifted to the shiny pearl that rested on his trousers.

"Look at that! So shiny" The woman took the pearl and sat next to him.

"I could accept this as a payment." her tone playful, but a large hand retrieved the pearl and his dark ruby eyes looked at her.

"Do you believe in... those fairy-tales?"

"Like?"

"Mermaids."

Her nose scrunched up and shook her ginger locked head.

"The only thing I believe is money."

Of course, she was rational and had shared her hardships enough to make her who she was. Even though her hand stretched towards him, a signal for payment.

Sighing, he towered over her, then pulled out a couple of coins and a small gemstone and handed it over the woman's hand.

"A pleasure doing business with you, darling." He could help but fix his eyes on her, gorgeous, fascinated by shiny things, and surely knew how to lure men to a certain death. Difference between her and a mermaid was that the death part was just temporary, and of course she wasn't a fish like creature.

She was dressing up, and he went back to the bed. His frame occupied mostly of the space.

"I don't know if... would it be too personal to share this but..." Dark ruby eyes stared at her flushed back that still had some of his fingers imprinted on.

"When I was little, my grandmother used t'tell me about mermaids and shite." Her stockings were up on her feet.

"And I believed her, because... I had the feeling of being watched as I was on the shore, watching ships come and go." Her trousers were up to her hips as she fetched another layer of clothing that scattered somewhere nearby

"And then I saw her. I... I saw a mermaid. or at least I want to think that it was a mermaid." She shrugged and turned to him, breast still uncovered, and still he focused on her words.

"Because the pair of eyes I saw... were nothing like I had seen before. You could literally see the stars on them, Miguel."

The woman sighed and dressed her breast with a easily removal, yet beautiful looking dress. His fingers helped to secure it closed.

" Thanks. And... You know, I couldn't help but make a wish."

She put her lacy gloves on, and picked up her hair before a small mirror available in the room.

"And what did you wish for?"

She went silent and sighed, sadness flashing on a small smile.

"A better life, but... Im still here, so that wishing thing is just a big fat lie."

Miguel hummed and looked at the pearl.

"If I could, I'd slap her for... making us all so hopeful."

The door was closed and Miguel sighed.

"You and everyone, bonita." he squeezed the pearl on his hand. A new route on his mind.

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

Tag List:

@nerdykat @munixumai @raiirai @sarapaprikas-blog @deputy-videogamer @rizahawkeye1380 @littlenyx @marit332 @iz-iplier @mad-hatter-rici @viriexo @

[samtrapani]

new vegas has a lot of insanely interesting concepts of characters but honestly nothing tops joshua graham. like it is so interesting he starts as an intelligent missionary who will probably lead the community, to a travelling preacher with his translator friend who decides he can take the mantle of an emperor, to the right hand of justice and the self-proclaimed wrath of both caesar and the lord. 

joshua’s entire life being wrapped in violence of two kinds of assimilation: one religious, and the other cultural. joshua, who does not and has never worn the armor of the legion, who trains boys and brainwashes them and breaks them because a faulty weapon is useless in this empire they’ve built. 

joshua, who fucks up at least once, but then caesar decides to make an example of him. if the right hand of caesar is not exempt from punishment, why should the rest of his legion be? and caesar couldn’t have just given him a firing squad execution. it had to be big. it had to be public.

joshua, who survived being lit on fire and tossed down the grand canyon. who walked to survival, all burnt flesh and agony, like a sinner on the path of redemption. joshua, who is inherently evil and cannot change, who is a warmonger at heart no matter how the courier thinks they can persuade him. joshua is a monster. joshua assimilates tribes and breaks them, and turns peaceful people into violent ones. joshua will never escape the legion or himself, because he was a zealot all along. he wanted to be god’s mouth, god’s revolver, god’s firstborn son.  and even after the courier goes, the burned man stays. the malpais legate stays. malpais meaning ‘rough country, badlands, a place where lava flows, burnt land’. the fire inside him burned bright, but it is not the gentle crackle of the hearth, it is a wildfire, all-consuming.

joshua is a terrible, vengeful creature. and no matter what happens in zion, it is all he ever will be. 

[neverscreens]

— PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS.

Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher, 367 Screencaps.

Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom, 532. Part One and Part Two.

We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium, 568. Part One and Part Two.

I Plunge to My Death, 454 Screencaps.

A God Buys Us Cheeseburgers, 517. Part One and Part Two.

We Take a Zebra to Vegas, 469 Screencaps.

We Find Out the Truth, Sort Of, 586. Part One and Part Two.

The Prophecy Comes True, 600. Part One and Part Two.

All in GALLERY. Like or reblog if it was useful, every interaction shows us that we should keep making screencaps for y'all ♡

[aphony-cree]

Magical forces: You need to get married to Spike Buffy: Plan an elaborate wedding, got it Magical forces: This spell is only about marriage, not a wedding. You could run off to Vegas, it'd be a lot faster Buffy: Make out with Spike, no problem Magical forces: You don't have to be in love, not all married couples are Buffy: Sit on his lap and play with his hair while we plan every last detail of our happy day, I'm on it Magical forces: Good lord, it's gonna be months before these two get hitched

[abybweisse]

Hello, how are you! Seeing that Layla is a random person chosen by UT to serve a purpose, I’m starting to think that the three lords of the stars are random people without a direct connection to the Phantomhives but of specific backgrounds. Also, I think that UT doesn’t really care about them apart from them fulfilling their roles. I may be wrong of course.

Not too bad, and you? 😆

No connections?

Well, I could also be wrong, but I expect at least one of these lords (besides Sirius, of course) to have ties to the Phantomhives. Polaris seems like the best bet, so far.

Even if/once Layla is confirmed to be Lord Canopus, there's still a slight chance that the twins know her... or who she used to be. It's also possible that they don't know her, but Undertaker has some other connection to her; she's still not randomly selected. It's interesting how "starved" she is for a transfusion, and yet she doesn't seem as physically weak as real Ciel, even when she's running after being stabbed in the heart. She seems to suffer differently. 🤔

And the few clues we have regarding Lord Vega still can't even rule out Bluer's little twin sisters, though they were alive last we saw them... as far as we can tell. 😬 Real Ciel wouldn't previously know them or care, but seeing them as bizarre dolls would really hit a nerve for our earl; he seemed rather amused (for him) by seeing Bluer with all of those sisters of his. The realization they are dead and reanimated would have to disturb him, at least.

There are two main reasons why it would be good for these other "lords" to be known by our earl (or by others in his household):

It's easier to get an emotional response from our earl or one of his "team" that way and

They are easier to "program" with their own cinematic records (as functional "episodes") to be loyal to real Ciel. Either they specifically have reasons to follow real Ciel... or they have reasons to be against our earl (or his supporters) and will show loyalty to anyone powerful enough to take him on.

[nightgoodomens]

My Lord, Ty’s instagram is the straightest thing you could imagine with many “hot” wife pics and text messages between them (heh…) and BOOBS.

He had two wives. One he married in 2019 and later divorced. DJ was at the wedding.

In 2024 DJ announced that he and Ty are getting married and their relationship started 10 years ago…

⬇️2019-2021

On September 7, 2019, Olsson married Katherine Lohmeyer, a NICU nurse in Las Vegas, Nevada. Ty Olsson and Katherine Lohmeyer filed a joint petition for divorce on September 8, 2021.

⬇️2020

[sleepytwilight]

hii sleepy :D could you write about a sort of like knight summoner from medieval times who thinks the boys are a prince and are bound to them to protect them? idk it came into my brain and i thought it'd be neat :D

Ohh!!! I like this ask!

𝓐𝓻𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓾𝓼

When you first summoned him, you really didn't know what happened. You thought he's some kind of magic prince because he suddenly appeared in front of you.

Anyway, Arcturus realize the monster were harassing you and was about to help you until you killed the monster by yourself.

He was surprised and when you bowed to him, he was even more surprised.

You said you'll protect him since he's a prince

He has no idea what's going on and he don't know how you can carry him up like a princess.

Okay but he actually enjoy this kind of treatment.

Okay but you need to stop protecting him every second you feels like he's in danger, he also want to protect you too.

You both ended up protecting each other, how cute.

𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓪

Spica thought you were a barbarian for a second until you told him that you're a knight from mid eartheim.

You and Spica didn't get along that well until you know Spica unhealthy sleeping schedule.

Since then you've been by his side, making sure he gets his 8 hours of sleep, eat well, throw away all the coffee-

Spica really don't really like this behavior of yours, it going on like this until one day on a mission, monsters suddenly attack you and him.

Surprisedly you defeat all the monsters because Spica don't have any energy left, he admit it he has been too harsh on you.

He became a bit softer and finally got a good sleeping schedule.

He don't have to know the fact you threatened the students to not make any troubles

𝓟𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓾𝔁

Pollux is the cutest prince ever, just admit it.

When you first saw him, you immediately go into protective mode.

Pollux in his tsundere self said he don't enjoy the fact you're protecting him (he actually likes it a lot.)

He taught you how to use gun since you can't carry the heavy sword around the academy.

Maybe teaching you how to use gun is a bad idea.

He enjoys when you addressed him "Your highness/my prince" he blushing madly fr.

He scared what will you think about him not being the real Pollux but you still want to serve him as his knight.

God how much he cried, he is happy that you didn't change your view on him.

𝓐𝓵𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝔃

Why do you want to protect a big strong prince like him? Alpheratz literally asking himself why.

He actually enjoy your company, rather than a knight, you're like a friend who look out for him.

You both have sense of who to protect, both worried about Arcturus and Pollux.

It feels like a one sided friendship, your purpose is to protect your prince. He can't really change your mind can he?

When both of you found out they you two reincarnated lovers, it feels like a new world to Alpheratz.

Now he's protecting you, nothing in the world belong to him but he want to protect his beloved.

If you're a knight then he's a prince, can he ask you to be his beloved once again?

𝓢𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓾𝓼

Sirius feels awkward when you call him "My Lord" or "Master". It feels out of place, he's the one want to address you like that again.

You were Polaris, his mentor. He's just a little sorcerer who want his mentor to be with him again.

Yet you still protect him, you protected him like how Polaris used to protect him. He feels like he's about to break down everytime you asked him if he's okay.

You really love to make things complicated for him.

He realizes that as long you're here, you can't live a free life. He want you to live a life without the need to protect someone, because if you keep protecting everyone... You'll ended sacrificing yourself once again.

He's a prince that meant to betray his knight. It's all to save you don't you know that?

𝓥𝓮𝓰𝓪

Well there's two knight, it's either him or you protect. It's like a fight but without fighting.

Vega gave a lot of excuses why he should protect you, his winning chance is 50% because you know better.

You guys protecting each other, like so cute- especially in a mission when you are battling the monsters, you both are unstoppable duo.

You call him "pretty prince" just to tease him. He's a guy with pretty face lol.

When you remember him as your childhood friend, you treat him even more gentler. He'll never get use to you carry him around because you used to carry him when you both were kids.

At last, you both need to separate huh? Vega made an oath before you leave this world, he hopes for you to come back and be his knight.

[buckrecs]

Clingy / Drunk Bucky Fic Rec

I binge read clingy & drunk bucky oneshots till 2am and now that i’m conscious i’m gonna make a list.

Clingy by @sleepypanda27

Steve and Sam bring home drunk Bucky, the reader takes care of him. It’s fluffy.

Crazy In Love by @/sleepypanda27

Bucky is in love and he doesn't care what others think about it

In Your Arms by @writemarvelousthings

goes to bed early because they're tired, but soon after comes back out of the bedroom to get their partner because they don't want to be in bed alone.

Sober Thoughts by @tropicalcap

James Barnes doesn’t get drunk, until he does.

Maybe Later by @lovelybarnes

"marry me" "maybe later"

You’re way too drunk by @storiesnobodyreads

reader goes out with friends and gets a little too drunk. She calls Bucky, her boyfriend, who is overprotective and comes over to the club.

Drunk by @lifeasadorkwithnolife

You took Bucky out to a bar, seeing how you two were getting back from a tiring mission with HYDRA, and Bucky needed to loosen up.

Pudge by @buckyalpine

Bucky being absolutely adorable.

Cheeky by @/buckyalpine

Bucky Barnes does not back down from a dare.

you know what rhymes with drunk? sex by @seventven

bucky comes home drunk after a night out with sam. 

Drunk Words are Sober Truths by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Bucky gets a little inebriated at a party and his loose lips let his secret slip.

Once Upon A Good Time by @shamevillain

Bucky wants attention so he’s going to use your biggest weakness to get it.

Drunk Buck Running Amuck by @coffee-with-bucky

Bucky is drunk and absolutely giddy with affection and you don’t know whether to thank or kill Thor

morning by @lovelybarnes

person a won’t let person b out of bed by cuddling them + person a peppering kisses all over person b’s face

Guess What’s On Your Mind by @tellmealovestory

Are you drunk?

You’re not going to work by @winter-soldier-vibes

Bucky comes back from a long mission so excited to see you. Little does he know, you have a full schedule that day. At least, you planned to. No way is he going to wait any longer. 

Drabble by @pellucid-constellations

Fluff with drunk Bucky

Waking Up in Vegas by @wxntersoldiers

a weekend in sin city can change everything. 

fuck it by @mellowswriting

Thanks to a little Asgardian liquor, Bucky gets drunk for the first time in almost eighty years. He’s more than willing to engage in a little drunken shenanigans with you. 

I Think I Wanna Marry You by @likeahorribledream

During an after party at the Tower, you’re introduced to a new side of your best friend: Drunk Bucky. And Drunk Bucky has it bad for you. Really, really bad.

drunk off you by @cunaeparker

asgardian liquor comes in clutch, sam’s a cockblock, and tony’s parties have a tendency to get spicy.

Gone with the mead by @writingsoftheloser

There’s a limbo between confessing one’s feelings and the use of ‘I love you’ that’s filled with amazing, strange and sometimes insecure things. Or the one where Bucky Barnes underestimated Asgardian mead.

Guy’s Night by @teamcap4bucky

You used to think that Hydra missions were your worst nightmare. Then the boys started having “Guys Night,” and you realized just how wrong you were. Nothing ever good comes from this night...or does it?

drunken proposals by @bluehourbucky

too much alcohol leads to proposals

Imagine by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

Imagine Bucky being drunk.

Day Off by @softlyspector

Bucky really wants to take a nap with the reader, but she just wants to read. (Bucky is a giant dog who needs a lot of attention)

[ikroah]

I've given everything I have, didn't know I'd run up such a tab, Oh, Lord, ain't the reapin' ever done? —“Ain’t the Reapin’ Ever Done,” Eddie Noack (1972)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #25 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding IV

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

At long last! As I've mentioned a few times, this issue got...delayed because I spent 2023 getting divorced, falling in love again, going outside, touching grass, laughing, playing, et cetera. But even if you toss all that aside this issue would still have been a doozy because I've been wanting to try an issue in this artstyle, and with a much large page size, for...well, for over a year now, ha. The thumbnails for this issue are nearly a whole year old!

Usually I have a lot of fun commentary about how a script changes over the course of working on an issue, or how the production panned out, but the making of this issue has been stretched over such a long time that I can't even begin to really describe it. Lemme just show you the original pencils so we can get out of here and move onto the next one, which will hopefully take far less than the time it takes to carry a pregnancy to term.

Oh, actually, there is one thing! If you spotted this happy couple on the first page, then check out @memepipboy's comics too.

Also, here's Vulpes in the dead Yamcha pose.

Which is also about how I feel after going on a bender of productivity last week to get the whole issue colored before it slipped away again.

Original Pencils:

Transcript:

EXT. NEW VEGAS STRIP. A small plaza outside the casinos is flushed with lights and people, all coming and going, even at such a late hour. The crowd is monitored by the Strip's POLICE SECURITRONS. Two people are exiting a casino: ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, and

MESSENGER: AGNES SANDS!

AGNES: Oh God, I'm--

AGNES: --wait, are you NCR?

The MESSENGER that has called out AGNES' name is a surly and middle-aged man in uniform.

MESSENGER: Correct, ma'am. I'm a messenger.

AGNES: Courier, huh.

CASS: Hell do you want, boot boy? We're busy.

MESSENGER: Your presence is requested at the embassy on the south side of the Strip.

The exchange has caught the eye of a BYSTANDER READING A NEWSPAPER.

AGNES: You said requested, as opposed to, um, required?

MESSENGER: Yes. I'll be blunt with you, Sands: the incident near Gecko and your subsequent desertion have made you a fugitive of military police since 2269. I'm sure you know that--but this is not an arrest.

MESSENGER: This isn't even about your personal case, necessarily. It's only from chance reports at the Mojave Outpost and Boulder City that intelligence was made aware of your presence here at all. The NCR merely wants to let you know that you--as well as your companion--are persons of interest to us in two of our other open investigations: the Legion raid on Nipton, and recent terrorist attacks on merchants in the area such as Crimson Caravan.*

CAPTION: *Various events of IKROAH #7-16. -Lou.

MESSENGER: There's also some other matters, which are classified.

CASS, at AGNES' side, listens intently. Then she glares at AGNES, who is grimacing but avoiding her eye contact.

MESSENGER: Now, our intelligence officers only want to speak to you, not arrest you. So there should be no cause for alarm or any worry on your part. It's your choice to come to us willingly--and on your own time. But--

AGNES sweats nervously.

MESSENGER: My orders are to make this next part very clear. This is merely the current state of our interest in you and your companion. If your presence does become required, as opposed to merely requested, by the NCR--and it very well may--

MESSENGER: --consider this a nice, friendly notice. I'm here because the NCR knows where you are. And the NCR wanted you to know that, because it wants you to keep it in mind as you mull over whether--and when--you might be feeling co-operative. That is all. We'll be in touch, Miss Sands.

The MESSENGER departs. The BYSTANDER READING A NEWSPAPER observed the entire exchange. The moment that the MESSENGER is gone, he speaks:

BYSTANDER: Ahh...I must admit, it does make me glad when people discuss my work.

AGNES: W-what?

CASS: Pardon?

BYSTANDER: And it was fortunate, as it turns out, that you were spared that night in Nipton.

AGNES: Oh...oh no--

CASS: --YOU?

BYSTANDER: Very fortunate indeed--

The BYSTANDER grins.

BYSTANDER: --that you were spared from the burning tires, spared from the teeth of the dogs, spared even from the cross and stake--all of this, there, was the finest work yet of VULPES INCULTA--against the profligates of the west, and for the glory and the might of CAESAR'S LEGION.*

CAPTION:*IKROAH #9. -Lou.

AGNES and CASS are transfixed where they stand, taken aback by the reveal. CASS scowls while AGNES squirms with terror. She remembers:

The raging fires and the horror show of NIPTON. Crucified bodies and dogs to eat the corpses.

VULPES: During our talk in Nipton, I admittedly became quite curious about you, Agnes. You had intrigued me for some reason, and I wanted to know what it was. Only later did I finally place it.

Her hands up in front of her face, a futile barrier between herself and three men. Benny. His gun, pointed at her, shining in the light from the moon and the lantern.

VULPES: A tabloid story from the news on the radio. A courier shot in the head near Goodsprings Cemetery.

The SECURITRON with the cowboy face, VICTOR, carried her out of her grave. Or so she was told.

VULPES: --who miraculously returned from the grave. It was you.

There were three men. Two besides Benny. She found them later, one was dead and the other had two more with him.

VULPES: It was also you, as I would later discover...who slaughtered that pack of Great Khans in Boulder City. Clearly no ordinary courier.

VULPES: Why, even now, you assassinate the leader of the Chairmen in his own casino--in his own bedroom, no less. Very impressive.

AGNES: But how did you--

VULPES: Know? From one saboteur to another, I do have to commend you, Agnes. You're quite covert...for someone who had no reason to realize that she was already being watched, that is. Just as we have been watching Benny, the dearly departed.

VULPES grins wider.

VULPES: My network of frumentarii have detected something of a conspiracy in Vegas...something about a certain piece of platinum, I hear. Which reminds me--the mail has gotten so unreliable lately, don't you think?

AGNES is visibly panicked as VULPES continues.

VULPES: The NCR'S interest in you is not misplaced, Agnes Sands, given your recent exploits.

CASS is suddenly going down the casino steps--

VULPES: But I doubt that they are as quite aware of the bigger picture as--

--and raising her fist, and--

VULPES: the--

--punching VULPES in the face.

SFX: WHAM!

VULPES is flung to the ground, his nose bloodied. One of his teeth have been knocked clean from his mouth. He stares upward, in disbelief, up at the furious woman who's laid him out.

VULPES: Ah...yes. Rose of Sharon Cassidy. I've--

PTOOEY. A wad of spit splats against VULPES' cheek. CASS points a finger at him as he shuffles back onto his feet.

CASS: Get my name out of your mouth right now. I'm not afraid of you. You just piss me off. And unless you get lost I'll deck you so hard that you forget my name. Hopefully how to form complete sentences, too.

CASS: I think we've heard enough, you goddamn dogfucker, and whatever you're selling, we don't fucking want any.

VULPES: Ah...so no less impudent than last time, despite...well.

VULPES wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand, muttering from behind his palm in LATIN.

VULPES: Sī cognōscere nōn vīs canis senex tum nēquam praeter futuendum eris.

VULPES reaches his bloody hand toward his dislodged hat.

VULPES: Agnes--the Legion has a particular use for you, a use which comes with certain courtesies that are not extended to your companion.

VULPES: ...she would do well to keep this in mind.

VULPES returns his hat to his head. AGNES has rejoined CASS at the base of the steps.

AGNES: "Use?" What use? I don't have anything--I mean, I'm not--whatever you--whatever the Legion wants with me, I don't know anything. About this, or about Benny. If you want the chip, I--

VULPES: Agnes, Agnes--you're a terrible liar. Or else just terribly naive.

VULPES turns to leave.

VULPES: If the NCR is interested in you, and they are, then seizing you for ourselves is certainly useful enough on its own. But truthfully, this isn't about the NCR. The Legion is interested in you--I am interested in you--because Mr. House is interested in you. You and that chip.

AGNES: Mr. House!? But I...no, no, I just thought the chip--

VULPES: Vale, courier. And vale, Rose of Sharon Cassidy. And be safe in your travels, if you can help it--you never know when somebody might be watching.

As VULPES departs, a SECURITRON approaches behind AGNES and CASS, casting a shadow over the both of them.