#wooden bangles

[blitzjewelrydesign]

Brown....Like the Ground

Those were the words uttered to me by my husband.  It was in response to me asking what shade of Brown did the groom pick for an upcoming wedding he had been drafted to be in.  I remember the look on his face when he said, “Brown…..like the ground brown.”   Needless to say, he was not a fan, but it was a Fall wedding.   And he did end up looking fantastic in it.  But he has not worn that suit…

[vantetaes]

SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

-

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

-

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

“um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

-

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

-

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

-

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

[scealaiscoite]

.☽༊˚ a hundred assorted prompts

¹⁾ raspberry lip gloss

²⁾ pajama bottoms

³⁾ a silver lighter

⁴⁾ fresh honey

⁵⁾ flushed cheeks

⁶⁾ a fogged-up mirror

⁷⁾ the imprint of a belt buckle on skin

⁸⁾ helium balloons

⁹⁾ a broken cocktail glass

¹⁰⁾ old playing cards

¹¹⁾ chipped green nail polish

¹²⁾ a brown leather wallet

¹³⁾ bullet holes in a wooden wall

¹⁴⁾ seashells lined up along the curve of a spine

¹⁵⁾ beaded curtains

¹⁶⁾ pomegranate seeds

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys

¹⁸⁾ fresh-cut orchids in a pottery vase

¹⁹⁾ vending machine cigarettes

²⁰⁾ an out of date map

²¹⁾ a creaky wooden gate

²²⁾ a minifridge stocked with budweiser and paracetamol

²³⁾ snapdragons growing between pavement slabs

²⁴⁾ smudged yellow eyeshadow

²⁵⁾ slept-in braids

²⁶⁾ library books that’ll never be returned

²⁷⁾ a pink-tiled shower

²⁸⁾ a honeybee on a linen shirtsleeve

²⁹⁾ burnt popcorn

³⁰⁾ watching an eclipse from bed

³¹⁾ a black lace bralette

³²⁾ a tattered patchwork quilt

³³⁾ blue raspberry bubblegum

³⁴⁾ a rusted fishing rod and a dried-up lake

³⁶⁾ the taste of whiskey on someone else’s lips

³⁷⁾ rose-scented candles burned down to the wick

³⁸⁾ crescent-shaped coffee stains on a wooden tabletop 

³⁹⁾ odd socks 

⁴⁰⁾ a loose thread on a jumper sleeve

⁴¹⁾ warm sheets on cold skin

⁴²⁾ amber-tinged perfume

⁴³⁾ gold jewelry 

⁴⁴⁾  a calloused palm against a soft cheek 

⁴⁵⁾ a busted headlight

⁴⁶⁾ sunrise from a jail cell

⁴⁷⁾ hand tattoos that weave around fingers

⁴⁸⁾ coconut shampoo

⁴⁹⁾ a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night

⁵⁰⁾ ladybugs crawling across a headstone

⁵¹⁾ grass stains on blue jeans

⁵²⁾ a loaded saddlebag

⁵³⁾ a dusty wine cellar

⁵⁴⁾ a bikini top draped over a bedpost

⁵⁵⁾ snow in july

⁵⁶⁾ dirt-red mountaintops

⁵⁷⁾ goosebumps in a heatwave

⁵⁸⁾ an empty dinnertable

⁵⁹⁾ a fresh manicure and bruised knuckles

⁶⁰⁾ zombie movies

⁶¹⁾ bitten lips

⁶²⁾ dark eyes full of tears

⁶³⁾ a soft cast in summertime

⁶⁴⁾ stale coffee in paper cups

⁶⁵⁾ frozen peaches on a black eye

⁶⁶⁾ acrid smoke

⁶⁷⁾ bound hands

⁶⁸⁾ animal tracks

⁶⁹⁾ unwound vhs tapes

⁷⁰⁾ cartoon plasters

⁷¹⁾ lipstick marks on shirt collars

⁷²⁾ silver bangles

⁷³⁾ sharing a coat in a downpour

⁷⁴⁾ fields with grass at waist-height

⁷⁵⁾ daisy chains up to your forearm

⁷⁶⁾ rolled-up shirtsleeves

⁷⁷⁾ the smell of bleach in a dark room

⁷⁸⁾ a shared sleeping bag

⁷⁹⁾ a new haircut

⁸⁰⁾ swimsuit tanlines

⁸¹⁾ perfume clinging to a pillow

⁸²⁾ lollipops dangling between lips

⁸³⁾ a badly-timed grin

⁸⁴⁾ old books

⁸⁵⁾ tongues stained from slushies

⁸⁶⁾ waking up in a hailstorm

⁸⁷⁾ dying sunflowers

⁸⁸⁾ colourful sunglasses

⁸⁹⁾ the last pew

⁹⁰⁾ tall, rattling windows in a storm

⁹¹⁾ six missed calls

⁹²⁾ sticks of incense burned down to the last

⁹³⁾ bunk beds

⁹⁴⁾ matching sets

⁹⁵⁾ ruined mascara

⁹⁶⁾ a boxing ring

⁹⁷⁾ stained glass windows

⁹⁸⁾ fairy forts

⁹⁹⁾ a cluttered bedside table

¹⁰⁰⁾ a hangover in the evening

[stariikis]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

synopsis ; going off my older fic engraving on my wrist , jungwon is late for a 'date', but you don't suspect the underlying reason behind his tardiness.

pairing ; idol!jungwon x trainee!reader genre ; fluff, situationship, getting together, oneshot wc ; 834

You’re not very sure why Jungwon would ask you out to a nearby café just to be thirty minutes late and leave you waiting. But you trust the process. 

Is it too late to cancel the ‘date’, and go back to the company? You’re growing incredibly sick of the countless camera flashes directed your way. Of teenage girls, fluorescent bangle bracelets adorning their wrists and idol photocards clasped to their school-bags, coming up and asking for your signature. Is Jungwon late or is he not coming? 

Your frantic messages go unread even when you check your phone for the millionth time. It’s not very ideal in the situation, but your mind starts to go into a frenzy. What if something happened to Jungwon? What if it’s my fault, what if I did something wrong? But I can’t have, can I, if I’m just sitting here waiting for a date? 

A date. You almost laugh out loud. What are you even thinking? He still hasn’t asked you out and here you are, foolishly believing it’s a date. 

Date, date, date… it’s all Jungwon’s fans can think about. Because of their influence, it’s all you can think about too. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty when the thought of Jungwon taking you out crosses your mind, though. It’s like you’re desperate, or something. The beginning of a scowl prods at your lips – at fourteen, you vowed never to be the desperate one, after comforting your best friend through a difficult break-up. 

Sneaking a glance down at his initials on your wrist, you start to contemplate getting up and going for dance practice with your trainee friends instead. Oh, the scolding you’ll give Jungwon when he finally answers your texts… he’s going to wish he never even said hello to you, that first day when you showed up to the company, freshly fifteen. What kind of stupid reason for being tardy will he give this time, you wonder? 

Just as you’ve given up on waiting for him and started to get ready to leave, thunder rumbles loudly outside. Whipping your head around to check the only window in the quaint café, your heart sinks. Raindrops strike the clouded glass, each one a representation of the shards of panic stabbing you. 

How are you going to leave now? You’re never going to listen to the morning radio’s weather forecasts anymore. Next time, you’ll be guaranteed to bring a damn umbrella around. This day isn’t going very well for you, is it? 

While you’re sulking, slumped over your table-for-two hopelessly, you don’t notice Jungwon bursting through the door and coming up to you. He is completely drenched from head to toe, brown cotton trench coat not doing much to block out the rain. A small puddle of wetness forms on your shirt as he taps your shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly when you turn your head in confusion. “The line at the bakery was super long.” 

You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he hands you a huge plastic bag with assorted breads. A couple beads of rain drip down the sides. 

“I’m really craving bread,” you whine, flopping down onto the wooden ground during one of your breaks. Jungwon pulls the beanie off his head and sits down beside you with a tiny grunt. 

“Bread? That’s a really weird craving,” he teases you, craning his neck to seek agreement from Sunoo and Riki, who’ve joined you that day for dance practice. They simultaneously glare daggers at Jungwon as if saying they don’t want to get involved, and so Jungwon turns his attention back to you. “What kind of bread, though?” 

Is what he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t just taunted you for wanting to eat it. 

“The one with strawberry paste inside. I haven’t tried it myself, but I heard it’s super go-” 

“IT REALLY IS SUPER GOOD!” Sunoo slides over and interrupts, truly the foodie of his group. “You should try the blueberry paste one too! And the new one where they put raspberry bits into the dough…” 

You snap out of the memory and unwrap the plastic bag, checking what’s inside. Sunoo’s list of recommendations are all inside, and some extras that Jungwon knows are your favourites. It’s so out of the blue and sweet of him that it makes you laugh. 

“This is why you’re late, isn’t it?” You mutter, feigning annoyance. 

He looks down at his shoes, looking ashamed. “Maybe. Sorry if they’re soggy. I didn’t have an umbrella because I believed the stupid weather forecast this morning.” And he looks utterly dejected about it.

How cute. 

“It’s okay,” you pull him into a gentle hug, patting his back soothingly. “It’s the thought that counts.” 

Take that, delusionalists in the crowd here. Jungwon is mine! 

“But…” Jungwon moves his head closer to your ear, and you get the eerie feeling something is coming. You’re proved correct as he hesitates, then whispers lowly, “but now how am I going to properly ask you out?” 

thanks for reading! if there are any other tropes or members you want me to write about you can send in an ask or comment here~ i'm very bored so i'll write pretty much anything sfw

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 10

18+ MDNI on Ao3

All the other chapters

One small invention has big consequences...

Ace’s knock sounded on the door - two short raps followed by a longer tap. From your spot on the floor, you lifted your head to peer at the door with puffy eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Your eyelids felt like sandpaper as you blinked away your tears before using your palms to swipe away the ones trickling down your cheeks. You could feel the heat of the red splotches that always took over your face when you cried and you wondered how long you had even been here.. The headache blooming across your temples and the stiffness in your neck told you that it had been a while since you’d started bawling when Sabo had left. You felt hollow without your devil fruit power and the seastone left you feeling as weak as you did on the Revolutionary Army’s ship. Your body had been robbed of all strength and you had been left a powerless husk on the floor. Your arms tightened around your legs as you did your best to ignore Ace’s knock in the vain hope that he would leave. The door was still locked anyway, it wasn’t like you could let him in even if you wanted to.

“Hey, you in there? Wanted to come see you,” Ace asked softly through the thick wood. You remained silent, sniffling again as your nose continued running. Where else would you be? You heard the turning of the lock and looked up as Ace’s familiar freckled face appeared in the doorway.

“How ya doing Sunflower?” Ace said, using his even stupider nickname than the one Sabo had given you. You silently raised your arm to show him the cuff on your wrist. Your forearm and hand were scratched red and bleeding from where you’d tried to take off the bangle. At first, you’d thought it was made of silver but the metal was much stronger than you anticipated as you banged it against the wall and floor trying to get it to open. 

“Ah. Not good then,” Ace said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to patch it up for you?” You shook your head, your current predicament put the scratches at the bottom of your list of worries. The idea of being touched in this state made your skin crawl and his offer only soured your mood further.  Ace frowned at your lack of concern.

“Yeah, I mean, I did warn you that Sabo liked you. And he warned you not to run, so…” Ace trailed off as he sat next to you on the cool wooden floor, so close that your shoulders touched.  You didn’t have the energy to resist when he picked up your wrist and you let him move your arm freely while he inspected it. His frown deepened when he saw the blood dripping from the shallow cuts after he turned your arm over.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. You scratched yourself kind of bad in a few places,” Ace said, getting back up and heading to the door. You didn’t bother trying to get out of the room - where would you go? Sabo was still around, you were still stuck on the island, and you didn’t have your devil fruit powers. Ace returned a few moments later and settled in next to you again. Opening the box, he took your arm and placed it on his lap before he began applying astringent to your cuts while he talked.

“You can’t - you’re just… not strong. I mean physically. You can’t protect yourself, you need someone like me or Sabo. I’m not saying it to be mean, it’s true. Not everyone can fight, and that’s ok. You’ve gotta stay with someone who can keep you safe, especially now that you’ve awakened your fruit. Who knows what would happen if the World Government got a hold of you? But don’t worry, Sabo’s gonna help you, get you in with the Army. You’re not doing that great on your -” You rallied your remaining scraps of energy at his words and snatched your arm away from him, intent on wrapping your wounds yourself. You weren’t going to sit there and get lectured about how weak you were by someone who had likely never felt that way themselves.

“Sabo’s not helping me, Ace. I was doing fine on my own until Sabo kidnapped me. Do you remember that part? I don’t want to join the Revolutionary Army,” you hissed at Ace. You knew your anger was misplaced but Ace was the only one you felt comfortable enough to bare your feelings to. You began rolling the bandage around your own wrist as Ace scoffed at you.

“Ok, yeah, Sabo took you from your base. But you know it was for your own good -”

“No, it wasn’t! Sabo took me on a whim! I get it, you both think I’m some stupid idiot who can’t do anything and needs others to take care of me!” you yelled back at Ace. It was infantilizing to hear repeatedly how you couldn’t take care of yourself, how inept and fragile you were in their eyes. You put your head back on your knees, tired of listening to Ace’s cosigning of Sabo’s behavior. 

“Go away, Ace. Unless you’re going to take this cuff off of me….just… leave me alone,” you said quietly. Ace lingered a moment but you soon felt the warmth of his body leaving from near your own. His footsteps led back towards the door but you didn’t hear the door shut again. Picking your head up, you saw him passing Sabo in the doorway, who was holding something wrapped in a blanket. You gave Sabo your best blank look, unwilling to show him any of the emotions you were feeling. In your mind, you remembered your Marine training and how to hide your emotions in the face of the enemy. Sabo wasn’t going to get anything from you anymore.

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Or an idiot,” Sabo said calmly, crossing into the room closer to you. He set his wrapped item on the bed and sat near you on the floor. Your back stiffened as you sat up straighter against the bed frame hard enough to feel the edges digging into your back.

“You told me that I was,” you said, trying for nonchalance but failing when your voice cracked halfway through your statement. 

“No, what I said was that you weren’t thinking and I stand by my statement. You let Ace convince you to undertake some hare-brained scheme he cooked up to get what you wanted. That doesn’t make you stupid, just desperate. And I can understand why you might feel that way,” Sabo said as he switched to sitting on the bed, his knees by your head as he looked down at you from his new vantage point. His hands were gripping the wooden bedframe near where your shoulder was. You stared straight ahead while Sabo continued undeterred as he always did.

“You’re worried about your family, isn’t that right?” Sabo’s voice was quiet as he put his hand on your shoulder. Your heart started pounding at his question - you couldn’t remember talking to Sabo about your family apart from the instance with his shoulder. And that was just that you had a sister, right? How much did he know about them? Still, you weren’t going to waste this opportunity to curry favor with Sabo. Maybe if he thought you were worried about your family he’d be more inclined to take off the cuff. It would be better than saying you were trying to get away from him.

“Um, yeah. I mean, I was sending most of my paychecks back home -” you started before being interrupted.

“Yes, to Hen and Chick Island. To your ailing sister, two young brothers, and working single mother. Deceased father. The Marines won’t grant pensions if you aren’t confirmed to be dead. That was your worry, was it not?” You glanced up at Sabo, who had you locked into his unnatural stare. You began biting your lower lip in place of your nails as he continued, your stomach turning at his words. You turned to face him, still sitting on the floor.

“I know about all of them. But you don’t have to worry, I had you listed as a working member of the Revolutionary Army and increased your salary. Your family has been getting more money than before though they don’t know the exact source,” Sabo continued with a smile that was as comforting as the shackle on your wrist. You thought your heart was going to explode from how fast it was racing. Did they know you were alive?

“How did - how do you know all that? About my family?” you asked, unable to hear much over the pounding of your blood in your ears.

“I know much more than that,” Sabo said, patting the bed next to him. You obeyed the implicit command and sat next to him on the bed. “I know every project you’ve ever worked on, every article you’ve ever published, every base you were assigned to, everything. Even your real name,” Sabo carried on, putting his hand over yours while staring into your eyes. “But now you can relax a little more, right? Now that you know your family is being provided for? I wish you would have let me explain everything before you did all that with Ace,” Sabo finished, patting your hand. 

“I’m always thinking about you and looking out for your best interests. Look, I even brought you your pressed flowers,” Sabo said, lifting the blanket off the parcel on the bed. Peering over, you saw the worn brown leather cover of your pressed flower album.

“How did you -” you said, reaching for the album as Sabo handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the familiar embossed cover as the memory of why you got it swept over you. It had been a matching gift with your sister when you joined the Marines. You wanted some piece of her with you and bought two identical albums with your signing bonus. You told her that the two of you could continue the hobby together from afar, as long as you each kept at it. Your hands started shaking again while holding it, something you sincerely hoped Sabo didn’t notice.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you said in a small voice, looking down at the album lying on your lap. Your worrying about their financial state had been weighing on you heavily and knowing they were taken care of brought a small measure of relief. Your income being sent home meant your mother wouldn’t have to juggle three jobs to try and scrape together enough money for your sister’s medical care and the boy’s schooling. However, you couldn’t quell the unease that continued to twist in your gut at the staggering amount of information Sabo had on you. You thought you’d played your cards close to your chest but Sabo was two steps ahead of you the entire time. Plus if you were receiving money as a revolutionary, didn’t that make you one? You would need to do whatever you had to for them if you wanted to continue sending money to your family.

“You should thank me,” Sabo said, tilting his head with his eyes still boring into you.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you replied while fiddling with the fraying edge of the binder. “Thank you for bringing me my flowers and um, taking care of my family,” you said meekly while you did your best to avoid his stare.

“A proper thank you should include a kiss on the cheek, don’t you think?” Sabo said, his smile growing impossibly wider.

Sabo POV

Sabo wasn’t stupid, he knew that you had been trying to escape from him. But he needed you to see that there was nowhere to go, that there was nothing out there in the world for you without him. He wanted the best for you and your best choice was obviously him. How could you handle the Grand Line alone when your hands would start shaking at the slightest bit of adversity?  The thought was truly laughable; you needed him, even if you were slow to realize it.

He hadn’t wanted to put the cuff on you, especially not by tricking you into it. But what was he supposed to do? You’d disobeyed the few rules that Sabo had set in place, and Sabo loved you enough to hold you to his promises. You needed to see that if you disobeyed him there would be consequences, for the sake of keeping you safe. He knew it had set him back romantically, but keeping his word was more important. You were lucky he loved you so much he’d put aside his own needs and desires to care for you properly. He wasn’t going to keep the cuff on forever anyway. You’d be free eventually, once you came around to his point of view. He decided that when you’d been intrigued enough by the scientific experiments at the RA to want to work for them, he’d give you back your power for that too. 

He’d requested one chaste kiss simply to see what you would do. Sabo had thought you were a rule follower, someone who liked to stay within their limits, but your misadventures with his brother during his absence had shown that maybe you were a little more mischievous than he’d anticipated. You kept fiddling with the album he’d brought back for you while you mulled over his request. He had gone out of his way to retrieve it before burning your old base to the ground, killing anyone who had slighted you. Sabo didn’t think you would appreciate his act of chivalry, so he kept that news to himself. 

“It’s just a kiss on the cheek, it’s not like I asked to marry you,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. You looked like a wild animal caught in a trap with no way out - he could practically hear your heart beating from where he sat. Sabo almost felt bad but he deserved a little sweetness after what you’d done with Ace. Sabo tapped his gloved finger against his cheek in a silent invitation. Leaning over slowly, you brought your face close to his and quickly pecked his cheek as if it was burning hot.

“See? Not so bad, hm?” Sabo laughed lightly while running his knuckles over your cheekbones in return.

“Oh, and I have one more present for you,” he said, watching your eyes widen. Such a suspicious little thing, he thought, keeping his smile from showing on his face. The more time you spent together the less you’d have to worry about him, it would take time. Similar to how you’d grown accustomed to Ace, you’d enjoy Sabo’s company just as much - if not more. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a curled up leather belt. Extending his arm, he handed you the belt buckle first.

“It has an ‘S’ for Sunny. You know, since Ace took his belt back,” he explained as you turned it over in your hand. 

“Thank you, Sabo,” you said meekly before laying it gently on the bed. You leaned forward to give him another kiss on the cheek. This time Sabo turned his face at the last moment so your lips landed on his. He did it quick enough that it could be justified as a mistake, though it most certainly was not. He pushed back the urge to hold you in place and kiss you as deeply as he wanted, just so he could get a taste of the sounds you would make against him. Instead he let you back away quickly, a rosy red already spreading from your ears to your chest.

“You’re welcome, Dove,” Sabo said, outwardly ignoring the flush on your face while his chest was near bursting with the evidence of the effect he had on you. He was a little concerned about the blood supply in your body since it all seemed to be pooling in your face. He hummed a little tune as he promptly left the room, reminding you to gather your things on his way out. 

Your POV

As Sabo left you alone in the room with your face flaming hot, you heard Ace’s knock again. You looked at him, hoping that he wouldn’t tease you for your current state of disarray.

“Hey, can I come in?” Ace asked from the doorway, not entering without your permission.

“Yeah,” you said weakly, looking down at the belt buckle on the bed. It looked exactly like Ace’s except it was blue and had an “S” emblazoned on it.

“Sabo got that for you?” Ace grunted, nodding his head at the belt.

“Yeah, he said the S is for -”

“It’s for Sabo. He probably got jealous when he saw you wearing my belt and had to make his own for you to wear,” Ace said with a grin like Sabo’s possessiveness was all one big joke to him.

“Ace, it’s not funny. Sabo’s kind of…scaring me. I don’t know if -”

“Aw, relax. Sabo’s not gonna hurt you, he loves you. He just gets a little jealous sometimes. I mean, I understand. Everyone would, with a brother as attractive and famous as me,” he said with a grin and a wink. Despite your serious feelings about Sabo’s escalation, a soft laugh came from you. Ace could always make you laugh, no matter the situation, something you appreciated about him. You had a feeling Ace was not going to be receptive to your criticisms of Sabo anyway. Standing up, you walked over to Ace before stopping right in front of him. You were shorter, so you looked up and tried your best to apologize.

“ ‘M sorry I yelled at you,” you said to Ace while shuffling your feet like a child. Ace didn’t respond immediately and pulled you into a bear hug, your face close to his smelly armpit. Even so, you didn’t pull away. You were going to miss Ace a lot, he’d become a close friend. Well, one of your only friends.

“S’ok, I realized I said the wrong thing. I usually do. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ace replied, still holding you in a hug.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you,” you said forlornly before breaking away from his hug. You weren’t looking forward to the sea voyage and especially not without Ace there as a buffer between you and Sabo. 

“It’s not gonna be right away, we’re sailing in the same direction for a few weeks, and we’ll see each other on the RA ship. Sabo told me Luf is on his way to Wano and there’s trouble brewing. I’m gonna go help out, see if I can’t find some of my old crew. I owe a….friend a visit there anyway,” Ace said with a slight flush coating his cheeks. 

“Friends hmm? Like we’re friends?” you asked teasingly. Ace blushed harder, giving you the answer you were looking for. 

“Uh, no. Not like our friendship. He’s uh..special friend. Really more like a boyfriend,” Ace muttered, moving the strings of his hat around nervously.

“I hope to meet him one day, I’m sure he’s wonderful,” you said brightly.

“He is. He’s Kaido’s son but he’s incredible!” Ace said with a smile so wide it closed his eyes. Somehow you weren’t surprised Ace would know someone like that, much less date them.

“I can’t believe Sabo gave you the key to my room,” you said, changing the subject.

“Oh, he didn’t. I stole it from him. ‘S easy, I’m a better pickpocket than he is,” Ace said proudly. 

“Are not. I let you take it,” Sabo balked, leaning on the doorframe with a crate in his arms. “C’mon, the ship’s nearly here. We need to pack up your things, whatever you want to take. I’m not sure if or when we’ll be back here. Kinda sad, I’m gonna miss Ace’s depression island,” Sabo teased, placing the crate on the floor.

“Hey, it was our depression island,” he said, gesturing to you. Sabo rolled his good eye at Ace’s dumb joke but watched your expression.

“Sunny, please get moving. I can’t imagine you have all that much here but please go through my things and bring what you want,” Sabo encouraged you. You nodded and started going through the closet, folding up the clothes you’d been wearing over the past few weeks. Going to the chest with the warmer clothes, you opened the trunk to grab some of the thicker sweaters. Sabo’s expression soured but he didn’t say anything as you packed sweaters and long sleeved shirts, familiar with the changing seasons on the Grand Line. It didn’t take you long to pack up the meager belongings you’d been using. You placed the album gently in the middle of your clothes, making sure it was protected by the soft fabrics. Sabo’s eyes flashed as you pushed the belt through the loops of his pants that you were wearing, tightening the buckle so it sat snugly on your abdomen. It was a perfect fit. 

Sabo looked over the room to ensure you hadn’t left anything you would want in the future as Ace grabbed his pillow and the quilt off the bed. 

“I thought you don’t get cold?” you asked, confused. Since Ace had been sharing a bed with you, the thin quilt had been more than enough to keep you warm since being near Ace was like laying on a hot rock in the middle of summer.

“I don’t, but Bepo made this for me. It has sentimental value,” Ace said, stuffing the blanket in the box. You took it out and folded it nicely, placing it on top of your album.

“I guess I forgot you’d know Bepo too. He made this? He’s such a multi-talented mink, I’d love to pick his brain one day. Did you also get to meet Penguin and Shachi?” you asked excitedly. 

“Yeah, they were super helpful during my recovery. Nice guys, if they weren’t Law’s crew I would invite them to Whi - I mean, my own,” Ace said, running his fingers over the quilt.

“How do you know Law and his crew? Did you meet them at Warlord meetings?” Sabo asked a bit too quickly, holding his metal pipe in both hands.

“No, I’ve never met him. Law often dedicates his scientific articles to his brothers. And everyone knows about Bepo. He’s the cutest pirate on the seas,” you mused aloud.

“Not me?!” Ace said with a pout. You booped his nose and smiled at him.

“No, not you. Bepo,” you said to tease him a little further. You heard the ruffle of Sabo’s coat whipping around as he left the room in a rush, his unusually loud footsteps echoing down the stairs as a whiff of acrid smoke hit your nose. Ace gave you a knowing look and took off after his brother, laughing as he bounded down the stairs.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo was gripping the wood railing of the porch so tight it was cracking under his palms. Sabo was annoyed with himself; he needed to get his emotions under control. He knew your interactions with Ace were purely platonic and they didn’t mean anything. But he’d realized now you and Ace had been sharing a bed and had grown closer than he’d previously thought. The man in question came sauntering out onto the porch before sitting on the already abused railing. 

“Don’t say it,” Sabo said preemptively, cutting off Ace from whatever bullshit he was about to spout.

“You’re pouting,” Ace said cheerfully. 

“Am not,” Sabo said, defending himself immediately.

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna scare her away if you don’t control your jealousy,” Ace said in a singsong voice, dangling his feet from his perch. Sabo knew Ace was right but he didn’t want to hear it right now. 

“I’m not taking advice from you, you never even told Yamato how you feel about him,” Sabo snapped at Ace. Ace pouted and looked away, making Sabo feel guilty. Being mean to Ace was like kicking a puppy, a dumb puppy. 

“You’ve got a second chance at life, you can tell him now. Go to Wano, meet up with Lu, Marco, Izo, whoever you want to. Help Luffy, he’s already an Emperor -” 

“I know, I know. I just wish…I wish Pops was here. He’d know what to do, he’d -” Ace said wistfully. Sabo moved closer to his brother and put his hand on Ace’s shoulder. 

“Ace, you know what to do. Don’t let his death be in vain. Go and -,” Sabo started softly, patting Ace’s back. The tender moment was interrupted by a timid knock on the open door. 

“Don’t blow it this time. Just be calm,” Ace leaned over to whisper into Sabo’s good ear. Sabo pushed Ace away. By the face. 

“I, um, finished packing. I put all the amoebas into a bottle if that’s OK,” you said in a meek voice while holding a glass bottle filled with water. Ace gasped aloud at your proclamation.

“All of them? In one bottle? Is that safe? What if something happens to them? Will they fight each other? Eat each other?” Ace said with complete sincerity. You raised your hand and shook your wrist, the bangle moving up and down.

“I can’t really tell right now,” you replied forlornly before handing the bottle to Ace for his inspection.

“I’m sure they’re going to be OK. Ace is going to go grab the crate and we’ll head out,” Sabo stated, pushing Ace back towards the house. Hopefully, he got the hint that Sabo wanted to talk to you, but with Ace it was hard to tell. 

“I have something to ask you,” Sabo began. You shifted on your feet and started rubbing your fingers against each other in an effort to self soothe. Sabo had noticed your hands had started shaking again during your earlier conversation though he hadn’t said anything.

“Would you like to take medicine to make you sleep through the first three days of the journey? This trip is longer than the last and we’re going to be sailing through notoriously rough waters. We’re equipped this time with more medical supplies for you, but I thought I would offer you the choice. The medicine will make you sleep but not unrousable in case of an emergency,” Sabo explained while you chewed your lip. You hadn’t agreed yet and were eyeing him suspiciously, but this was truly for your benefit. 

“You can think about it, but we’re sailing within the hour. I’d like to give it to you before we leave, that way you can just sleep through the worst of the sailing. I’ll have to keep giving it to you every 12 hours and you can decide to use it or not at each juncture,” Sabo said, reaching for your hands and holding them within his own. He had been correct, they were shaking. Running his fingers over the tops of your hands, he continued to try to assuage your fears.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Ace will be with us for meals, of course, I’ll be there, and we’ll check on you. I don’t want you to have to go through sea sickness like you did before, on Striker and the first time we sailed together,” Sabo said before bringing your hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Your POV

Studying Sabo’s face gave you none of the answers you were looking for. His idea had appeal, you really didn’t want to be seasick again especially since you had just recovered from being on Striker. Being conscious or not didn’t change your situation since you were just as vulnerable awake as you were asleep. You’d been unconscious around Sabo many times and he’d never done anything untoward to you - that you could remember. Even with Sabo pushing your boundaries, all he’d asked for was a kiss on the cheek. Taking a gamble, you made up your mind to just sleep through the first few days on the ship.

“Alright, I’ll take the medicine,” you said, not pulling away when Sabo continued stroking your hands.

“Excellent,” Sabo replied, his genuine smile showing on his face once more. Of course he was happy, you thought, you were agreeable to one of his plans. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Sabo pulled out a capped syringe as Ace passed through the door, carrying the crate down the path to the waiting ship. The syringe was clearly from a Marine base, the familiar symbol emblazoned on the side. You idly wondered how Sabo came into possession of Marine narcotics but decided it wasn’t a question worth asking. You weren’t sure you wanted to know anyway.

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch inside? It takes a few minutes to work but not that long,” Sabo suggested, not waiting for your answer while herding you inside. Perching on the couch, Sabo flicked off the cap of the syringe with a practiced movement. “Ready? Small pinch,” Sabo said, grabbing your right arm. You felt a prick as the needle went into the muscle of your tricep and a small rush of cold liquid entered your arm. Sitting there for a moment, you didn’t feel any different than before as Sabo went to throw away the syringe.

“ ‘M not sure it’s working….” you said, already closing your eyes. Sabo chuckled as you lay down and curled up on the couch, ready for the journey to be over already.

~

You came to consciousness in bursts, confusion overtaking your mind as you tried to sort through the haze of the past three days. You found yourself back in Sabo’s bed, wrapped up in his blankets as the ship sliced through the waters. Bile was rising in your throat, though not as quickly as you’d experienced before, you probably had about ten minutes before you’d be throwing up. Thinking back, you tried to remember anything from the previous few days and could come up with only hazy memories. 

You remembered being woken to drink water and juice, throwing up a few times as Sabo held back your hair, Ace coming into the bed with you for a nap. You remembered violent dreams of being rocked back and forth, probably as the ship teetered through the rough seas. You remembered Sabo asking you if you wanted more medicine, already feeling the prick of the needle in your arm before you could fully verbalize that you did. You remembered dozing off while sitting on Sabo’s lap, your face nestled in his neck, his arms around you as he wrote letters. You recalled Sabo curled around your body in the bed, warming you as you fell deeper into sleep beside him. You remembered Sabo kissing your cheek and forehead, running his hands up and down your back to soothe you. 

Carding through your memories, you sat up for what felt like the first time in ages, stretching your sore muscles. Sabo’s idea really had been a good one. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice rough after not using it for so long.

“Hi yourself. Feeling better?” Sabo replied, coming to sit next to you on the bed. You nodded while peering out the window at the night sky. You didn’t know what time it was or even what day it was.

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s just being served. I can get you some and bring it here. I’m not going to give you any more injections but the last one isn’t completely worn off yet. You’ll probably fall back asleep soon.” Sabo offered while fluffing your pillows. 

“Can I get something to drink -” you started asking as Sabo handed you a cup off the nightstand. You drank greedily, gulping down the water until there was none left. Nothing had ever tasted as good as the clear cool water you were enjoying now. 

“Where’s Ace? I thought he joined the ship for meals?”

“He took a detour, he’ll catch up with us in a few days. There’s a small island nearby that he wanted to stop at for supplies. Probably for more food, too,” Sabo replied, rolling his eyes. 

Sabo POV

All good things come to an end, he supposed. Sabo had loved having you as a docile little pet for a few days. All of your hesitation, fear, and worry was gone under the medication, leaving you relaxed and calm. He loved taking care of you and helping you in your time of need as you fought through your seasickness. Sabo had been able to move you about as he pleased like a doll, your chest rising and falling evenly as you slept through the turbulent waters. He did miss your conversation and personality but having you so close was delightful in its own way. He didn’t do anything too devious, he’d kept his word to you. Only a few forehead and cheek kisses. And one kiss on your neck, but that was basically an accident as he’d been spooning with you and you’d turned in your sleep. He’d spent so long daydreaming about you when he was away, it was only fair to hold you close now that you were reunited. The trip was about a week longer - he had plenty of time to break down your walls before introducing you to the rest of the RA.

Sakazuki POV

Admiral Sakazuki was on his fifth cigar of the morning. He couldn’t stop himself, it was the only thing keeping him from burying his desk in a field of lava. His rage was so potent, so strong, that he feared he would irreparably harm his beloved bonsai plant if he stopped smoking. Sitting at his desk, he held the fourth copy of the photo he’d received from Shadow Island. The first three he’d burned, much like the man they depicted. Fire Fist Ace had been spotted buying meat kebabs from a street vendor, the scar Sakazuki had given him prominently displayed on his chest like a shield. His source had also revealed Ace had his Logia powers since he was able to fire up that damnable little boat and sail away from the island.

First your kidnapping, then Bayonette being burned to the ground, then Fire Fist Ace being alive and well. Sakazuki knew they were all connected, everything tying back to the ASL Brothers. If he could have killed all three of them at Marineford, he would have. He certainly tried and thought he succeeded with at least one. But just like his father, luck always seemed to be on the side of Portgas D. Ace. Burning quickly through the cigar, Sakazuki flicked the ash onto the smiling man in the photo, decimating the image once again. 

He wasn’t sure how Flame Emperor Sabo and Fire Fist Ace both had the Flame Flame fruit, but his intuition told him it had something to do with you. Your disappearance was no mistake, the RA must have found out about your research and seized you at the right opportunity. He needed you back, especially if you were able to replicate Logia fruit, something not even Vegapunk had been able to do thus far. Maybe he could have a Seraph of his own, another lava fruit able to be commanded at his word. Either way, you needed to be brought back to the Marines and away from the Revolutionary Army. 

Rising from his chair, Sakazuki picked up his snail and barked an order.

“Prepare my ship for immediate departure.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuffm @epochal-oracle

[blueiscoool]

Detectorist Unearths Bronze Age Hoard After Getting Lost on Treasure Hunt

John Belgrove, 60, uncovered rare sword, axe head and bangle in Dorset after becoming separated from group

An amateur detectorist has described how he unearthed a bronze age hoard, including a rare sword, after getting lost during a treasure hunters’ rally.

John Belgrove, 60, became separated from the main group of detectorists and headed to higher ground to try to spot them when he made what he has called the find of a lifetime.

His device activated as he walked along and when he dug down he uncovered a rapier sword dating back to the middle bronze age.

The 61cm (2ft) rapier had been deliberately broken into three pieces and placed in the ground.

Unusually, the hilt, though cast in bronze, was shaped to mimic a wooden handle. Only two similar rapiers have been found in Britain before and they were incomplete.

As well as the rapier, a palstave axe head and a decorative arm bangle were found, presumably buried as an offering.

Dorset Museum and Art Gallery raised £17,000 to buy the objects, with the proceeds shared between Belgrave and the landowner.

Belgrove, a retired pensions consultant from Purley, Surrey, made his find in the village of Stalbridge, near Sherborne, Dorset, in 2020.

He paid £20 to go on the rally on private farmland but became separated from the group.

Belgrove said: “There was a group of between 40-50 detectorists there and they had searched the land before but they were excited because some new land had been opened up for the rally.

“I tagged along and didn’t know anyone there. Somehow I got left behind and lost and so I walked to high ground in a field and that is when I got a strong signal for this find of a lifetime.

“It was clear there was metal there but I thought it would just be an old can or something. I dug about eight inches down and found an odd-shaped object that was caked in clay.

“I didn’t know what it was at the time but it turned out to be a solid hilt of a sword, an exceptional item.”

He then found the two broken sections of the blade along with the axe head and the bangle.

Belgrove said: “I knew when I saw the axe head that it was a bronze age hoard. My head was in a spin. The blade of the sword was still sharp. The view of the British Museum is that it was deliberately broken and deposited in the ground as part of a ritual burial and offering.”

Elizabeth Selby, director of collections at Dorset Museum, said: “This hoard is incredibly special. The rapier sword is really unusual because of the cast bronze handle. The bracelet decoration was quite unusual as well.

“There aren’t really any comparable objects like the rapier, so to be able to acquire these items is really important for us.

“Finds like this tell us about how people were travelling, meeting and exchanging ideas with others on the continent in the centuries before the Roman invasion.

“There was a farming community there and these people generated enough wealth to be able to barter for or exchange objects that others had made.”

By Steven Morris.

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part Six/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: Your new life, far away from the soot and fog, from your husband's raging paranoia and murders committed in the name of love, has feelings of guilt surface as your daughter continues to demand the whereabouts of her father. But even the false hope of a bright future faces jeopardy when you run into a familiar face in your small hamlet as Tommy spirals into madness back home in Birmingham.

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst, murder, suicidal thoughts, use of one racial slur.

Word Count: 3K

[Masterlist] [Previous Part] [Trailer]

"Back again so soon" the raven-haired woman with a stack of jangling gold bangles and bulky stoned rings adorning her skin squinted with a smirk as she looked up through the midday sun to your husband hovering over the fire she had lit, its ashes swirling into the chilly winter skies.

" 10 shillings. One reading" Tommy blew a cloud of smoke down to her rising feet. The length of her dress trailed in mud from her hardened life on the road her free spirit called to, flowing behind her as she walked to her wagon.

" 20" she replied, knobbly fingers curling around the framed door to her home with an ushering nod of her head for your husband to follow her into the rickety wooden trailer, to the smell of sandalwood and frankincense burning as she placed the small gas lantern clutched in her hand onto its stand.

"15. And this time, you'll tell me where she is" Tommy's eyes darkened, grabbing her chin between his fingers as she hissed into her cushioned seat to the small table clothed in red and the stack of cards sat in the center.

Three times in one week Tommy had made the journey to the old woman's lonely wagon atop of the rocky field in the green pastures of the Black Country by horseback. Each time seeking answers to the burning question of your whereabouts that had sent him into a spiraling madness in the short time he had spent imprisoned. A time short lived thanks to his trusted friend Johnny Dogs knack and acquired skill at the removal and disposal of dead bodies.

But in the time that was spent pacing back and forth in his iron-clad cell, Tommy had entered a state of mind far darker than he'd entered with. With only whispered gossip leading to empty ends, your husband had resorted to the only thing his maddening mind sought. Other worldly guidance. His last and only chance to find you and his daughter.

"The child's toy" the wild haired woman's hand snapped out, crimson talons grabbing Elsie's cherished pony from your husband's fingers as her piercing eyes roamed over the shuffled cards, head gesturing with a snap for Tommy to pick the response he yearned to dull the torture he felt inside.

" Speak, old woman" Tommy demanded her toying response from her as he forced the card in her hand over onto the table.

" Thrashing waves, she stands on the cliff's edge. Your bern in her arms" her giggling voice watched the widening stare of your husband with satisfaction, his jaw clenching at the same card that had been dealt over and over again to his waiting eyes as she pushed it across the table with a cackle. "The Fool"

" LIAR!" Tommy's voice roared, toppling the array of cards onto the carpeted wagon as he lunged forward, straining hands grasping the throat of the woman whose many predictions had seeped into his unstable mind.

" New beginnings, freedom!" she gasped through your husband's tightening fingers as he cocked his head to her changing words.

" Go on" his brow raised as her life balanced precariously on the edge of Tommy's crazed moral compass and the response from her he would deem satisfactory or not.

" A new journey awaits her. But! But...one step off the cliff's edge, and she'll fall into danger. She needs your guidance to...to keep her safe" the jolting words had his fingers releasing from around her neck as she clawed at her drying throat.

Tossing but a single shilling at her feet, Tommy placed a fresh cigarette between his lips, fingers striking the aspen match against its box as he walked out of her disheveled home.

"But a fool you are, Thomas Shelby. And too late" she quietly seethed with a menacing giggle, throwing the measly bronze coin from her as your husband snapped back at her vapid words and manic laugh with fury, flicking the lit match into the pile of tarot cards with a heavy slam to the door that saw the precariously seated gaslight fall to the carpeted floors.

Locked within the flames, screams of pain, of death rolled over the fields of England as Tommy drew his gun from his holster, pushing the metal barrel to his temple.

" I'm coming, darling" he closed his eyes with a whisper at the image of you and Elsie flickering behind his lids, yearning to be reunited with you in the watery death he believed you had succumbed to.

With the click of the trigger, Tommy fell to the ground, only for his eyes to snap open to the earthy bed of grass surrounding him and a pair of laced boots approaching him through his fluttering lashes.

" Heaven doesn't want you, Tom. And hell's too afraid you'll take over" Arthur's voice and reaching arm pulled him up from the ground, hand full of unspent bullets clutched within the calloused pads of his fingers.

" 'ere" he pulled a silver flask of whiskey from within his tailored waistcoat, eyes turning from the blackening wagon as his stomach churned in disgust at the smell of burning flesh.

" You're right, brother" Tommy swigged back the sharp notes of spice and oak, believing the other worldly forces he had sought had intervened and not that of his brothers' hindsight to remove the beckoning call of death Tommy had answered to.

Unable to stand the gruesome trail of dead bodies that had accompanied Tommy to the four corners of England in search of you, Arthur waited by the car as your husband watched the collapsing walls of the old woman's wagon fall apart into charred blackness.

Rising from the muddied ground, your husband squinted through the fumes until he reached the remains of the dead woman and your daughter's pony still intact in her hands. A distorted sign of proof to your husband, that you were both still alive.

" Fuck sake" Tommy's brows knitted together as the disintegrating mane of Elsie's horse disappeared between his fingers, the small toy holding more importance than the body at his feet he stepped over without an ounce of remorse as he walked down the grassy hill to the waving hand of Johnny Dogs stood with Arthur by his car.

" Tom...Tom, she's been spotted" Johnny's arm looped around Tommy's back with a nodding grin, patting the slouching chest of your husband with a small picturesque postcard of a seaside town in his hand as your husband hunched over with welling eyes of relief darting to the greying skies.

"Seems heavens still on my side, eh boys?"

"Elsie shut the door" you pulled your chin from the palm of your hand as you sat against the bay window watching your daughter, muddy boots and unkempt hair traipsing through the kitchen.

"Elsie!" your patience snapped as she continued to ignore you, kicking her shoes off before running out of sight upstairs with a string of demands to see her father following her stomping feet before the slam of her bedroom door closed shut.

"Fuck..." you pinched the thumping headache between your brows as you stood up, swinging the creaking door shut as your eyes darted down to the lock.

Did you want him to get out and find you? Haul you back to Arrow House? Was that what you wanted now? you thought to yourself as the tips of your fingers brushed over the brassy handle.

Anything would be better than this, you snatched your hand away as your welling eyes and slow steps plodded you back to your spot by the window you had set up camp for the past week.

Your new home. Your new life. A small bricked cottage by the white cliffs of Dover, a large garden for Elsie to play in, a crackling fire for you and your daughter to curl up to on long winter nights. Far from Birmingham, far from the fog and soot, far from your husband and his raging paranoia. It was everything you had hoped it would be. And yet, you still longed for him. Still dreamed of him. Was he dreaming of you?

"I'm sorry" you clutched your wedding band looped through the chain around your neck. The binding gold ring you had once expelled to the small dish on your vanity, now permanently settled against your heart as you spent your days dwelling in regret.

For guilt had become your closest companion in the past weeks, a companion that would join you in the evenings when your daughter lay sound in her bed, and you knocked back the rapidly dwindling bottle of whiskey stuffed behind the frilly pillow on the bay window as you gazed out at the waves, mind drifting to Tommy.

Was it the empty void of Tommy's paranoia no longer filling your days that had you regretting your choice? Or was it Elsie's constant questions about the whereabouts of her father that had you wishing you could turn back the clocks of time, to forgive and forget? your mind plagued you as the sacrifices you were willing to make as a mother if it meant making your daughter happy seeped into your thoughts. After all, he was only trying to keep you safe, wasn't he?

"Y/N?" a voice and the creak of your front door opening drifted to you as the detective that had arranged your witness protection strode through.

"You should be keeping this shut" he shoved his raised gun back into its holster with a disappointed huff, thumbling with the rickety lock as your frowning face approached him.

Why did he have his gun raised? Tommy was in jail. You was safe, wasn't you? you stepped forward with a head full of concerning questions when Elsie came running down the stairs.

" Daddy!" your six-year-old screeched, mistaking the gravelly voice for her fathers as she came to a stumbling stop at the bottom of the stairs.

" Hello Elsie, look what I found for you" he bent down to her small frame, handing her a newly purchased pony, locks wrapped in a red ribbon.

" Elsie" you nodded to her with a stern face to thank the gentlemen as her sulking lips and swaying legs quietly accepted the horse.

" Thank you" she sniffed, turning the poor replacement for the one Tommy had first brought her in her hand as her pleading eyes looked up at you to let her leave.

" Go on" you let her go, hands threading through the ends of her locks as she hurried back upstairs with another slam to her door.

" She'll adjust" the officer guided you to the kitchen clearing his throat, deciding not to put another dousing of stress into your already difficult day with the news of Tommy's release.

" Tea?" he asked, watching you fall into your spot by the window with a passing nod of your head.

With a fresh brew of Earl Grey cupped within your palms, you scooted your feet back as the detective settled himself opposite you on the wooden bench.

" How are you?" his questions tore your from the bottom of the garden and the swinging gate, toing and froing.

Tommy, your heart jumped with muddled emotions of both fear and relief that he'd found you as a gust of wind battered against the window, and you slouched back into your seat with disappointment.

" Fine" you absently responded, gaze drifting over the unkempt grass outside, looping your necklace tightly around your finger as the muffling chatter from the officer continued.

You could be as cold as him, as callous as him, you tried to convince yourself that you possessed the same darkness as your husband, that you could ignore his misgivings if it meant hushing the sounds of codependency you still shared with him.

" So, how about it?" the detective's voice drifted back into your preoccupied thoughts as his heavy hand cupped your knee.

" Sorry?" you scrambled to understand what you had missed as you pulled your cardigan around your body, shielding yourself from his roaming eyes your absent mind had let go unnoticed.

" Take you out, so you can let your hair down?" he sent you a playful smile, lips curled around the warm mug of tea as your scrunching brow and his misplaced affections had you rising to your feet with a fumbling cascade of apologies.

" I'm sorry, I'm just...I don't think, I don't think I'll be in the mood" you politely refused his offer, suddenly feeling vulnerable, suddenly desperate for your husband's overbearing protectiveness as the officer stalked towards you.

" Maybe when I pop by next time then?" he smiled, brushing a lock of hair from your flinching face as you stepped back, feeling like you had given the wrong impression after the countless times you had welcomed him into your new home, the countless times he had made the long journey from the midlands to check on your safety you accepted feeling indebted to him.

" M-hm" you wordlessly replied as you slipped behind the kitchen table to the front door, hoping he'd get the hint and follow you out.

" Take care Y/N, and lock that door" he squeezed your arm with a wink, fingers waving to Elsie stood at the top of the stairs with her father's infamous Shelby scowl staring him down.

Pulling his coat around him from the icy winds, he came to a stop along the cobbled path, mumbling his appetite for you as he turned to see you stood by your open door, only your cardi shielding you from the bitter cold and the thin nightie underneath.

" Pretty little thing, ain't you just" he turned back to his car with a pleased smile as his partner raced towards him.

" Boss! Boss, there's a road block that's causing chaos down by the turning" he breathlessly informed the seasoned officer as he clutched onto the wooden fencing.

"I've had a Shepard ranting and raving for me to do something for the past thirty minutes, Sir " the young officer looked up at the creasing brow of his superior, watching him walk to his waiting car with a shake of his head. "Sir?"

" Not our district, son" he slipped into his car turning the ignition, tires rolling past your coastal cottage to the bend in the path and said road block with a disgruntled huff at the sight in front of him.

" Fucking gypsies" his fingers tightened around the wheel, eyes honing in on the empty wagon abandoned in the middle of the road and the Shepard's failing attempts to keep control of his herd as his dogs snapping jaw barked at the wooden block in the road, when a tap to his window and a grinning stout man with thumbs hooked under the suspenders of his trousers appeared outside of his car.

" Top of the morning to you, officer"

"The fresh air will do you good. Do us both good" your attempts to convince your child quickly fell short as you marched along the frosty ground in the freezing temperatures that came with living by the sea.

" Can we go home now?" she looked up at you with wind-nipped cheeks and a reddened nose as you battled with the bagful of shopping between your numbing fingers.

" I just need to pop into the corner shop..." you were cut off by your daughter coming to a scowling stop and a stomp of her foot as she pulled her mittened hand from yours.

" Back to Daddy, back to Birmingham Mummy!" she shuffled her feet against the icy cement, doe eyes pulling at the withering strings of your heart as she looked up at you.

" Elsie..." you sighed, crouching down to her as you adjusted your poor attempt at a knitted wooly hat over her ears, clueless on what to say, knowing she was too young to understand the complexities of her parents' relationship, and the gruesome things her father had done in the name of love. " Darling, I..."

" Mrs Shelby, I thought it was you. Didn't I tell you Mildred, I wasn't seeing things" the nattering of an elderly lady accompanied by her friend walking arm in arm shuffled towards you along the slippery ground as you bolted up with widening eyes, head snapping over your shoulder to see the last person you wished to see approaching you.

"Just last week, I was certain I saw you down by the bakery" she came to a stop in front of you, gleaming eyes patiently waiting for your response.

" Mrs Cross" you pulled your daughter into your body as the woman who was known as Small Heath's biggest gossiper, just so happened to be in the same hamlet in the same godforsaken freezing ends of England at the same time as you smiled to you and your daughter.

" What are...are you here on holiday?" you swallowed back your mounting panic, desperately trying to shroud your nerves with a pleasant smile of surprise.

" Goodness no, not in this weather" her brow furrowed at the pointy icicles hanging over head as she adjusted her fur coat around her frail body.

"A bereavement in the family" she clarified when questions about your unexpected appearance in Dover spilled from her inquisitive mind.

" And you?" her glistening eyes peaked with curiosity, eager for a new topic of conversation for her and her friend to natter over during their afternoon tea.

" Just a small getaway" you lied, keeping things brief as you clutched the bag of potatoes and parsnips for the soup you envisioned warming your shivering bones in your hand, knowing too well how quickly anything that sounded untoward would travel back to Birmingham at the speed of light if you let your tongue slip.

" Some much needed family time together, hm?" her observing eyes scanned behind you, expecting to see your husband accompanying you on said getaway.

" Yes, just the three of us" you lied for a second time through eager smiles at the blissful image of a happy family spending time in a quaint cottage by the coast you hoped the nosey resident of your hometown envisioned as your daughter's head darted up at you with a frown of confusion.

" How lovely" her attentions drifted to your daughter's eyes cast down in a sorrowful gaze at the slippery pavement and the lone strand of graze stuck beneath the sheath of ice that covered it. " Is that not so, Miss Elsie?"

" I want to go home" your daughter sniffled her response, while your fingers squeezed tightly around the corded bag in your hand as your heart began to rapidly thud against your chest at the gossiping woman's questions that could worm out the real reason why you was currently in the small deserted village if the unfiltered honesty of your child elaborated.

" Oh sweet child, you've not missed out on anything, my dear. Just last week I sent a postcard back with news from my end. And my neighbour Ethel diligently informed me that our little town is the same as it has always been" she informed your child with a gentle pinch on her plump cheek as her words hurtled a thousand worries to you.

Did she tell her gossiping conspirator that she had seen you? Had news gotten back to Tommy about your whereabouts? you began to panic as a ball of unease settled in your stomach, when your taunting mind reminded you of your sentiments that morning with one last question. But isn't that what you wanted, him to come find you?

"It was lovely seeing you Mrs Cross, but we must be off. Goodbye" you sharply turned on your heel, leaving your muddled emotions with the elderly duo curiously watching you scurry away with your child's dragging feet behind you.

" Strange Mildred" the old lady's eyes narrowed in on you slipping behind the cobbled wall of the corner shop before turning back to her friend with a knitted brow.

" What is, dear?" her shivering companion queried as she watched her baring along the slippery ground.

" Where is, Mr Shelby?"

With your daughter tucked safely asleep in her bed, you wrapped the ties of your dressing gown around your body, padding to your bedroom window and the flickering candle sat on top of the windowsill as you waited for the reassuring presence of the cop car that would roll past your home every night.

" Slowly" your husband commanded the detective as he sat behind the driver's seat of the unmarked car with the barrel of his gun pointed to the side of the officer's head.

"We wouldn't want to give her a fright, now would we?" Tommy's smile contorted into a malicious smirk as they slowly approached your house, the frightening scene shielded by the dark confides of the car and cloudy night skies.

" Well would you look at that. There she is. My wife" Tommy's eyes darted to you stood at the window as a sigh of relief left his throat upon seeing you after weeks of waiting. Heart momentarily overcome with satisfaction, with love, before his anger for your daring actions shrouded the moment.

" Go on, flash the lights. You're scaring her" Tommy demanded, scooting forward in the leather-padded seat upon seeing your head dart up and down the lonesome road in a panic as his gun burrowed into the quivering man's skull.

With the blinking confirmation of the headlights reassuring you of your safety, you sent a short wave of gratitude as your nightie fell open, revealing your thin slip underneath that had the detective snap his head away, nervously clearing his throat.

" You enjoy watching my wife, you fucking perv, eh?" Tommy's anger snapped in the mumbling man's ear as the officer scooted in his seat away from the exposed sight of you.

" Just doing as I'm told" he nervously darted his shifted gaze to the rear-view mirror and the darkened reflection of Tommy sat behind him, eyes shadowed by his peaked cap and the lies his searing stare were reading through. Lies that only confirmed his need to protect you, to keep you safe.

" Go" Tommy ordered him with a nod of his head to the road ahead of them as you blew out the burning candle before returning to the warmth of your lonely bed. Oblivious of who was behind the wheel of your nightly patrol and the man accompanying him.

"Please" the officer pleaded for his life to the sound of the rumbling wheels coming to a steady stop along the gritted path as Tommy's reaching hand pulled the key from the ignition.

" Sorry officer, threes a crowd" he swiftly pulled his cap from his head, slicing the shining blade across the man's throat. Inflicting a bloody gurgling death on the detective until he succumbed to the liters of blood pooling in his lap and lifelessly fell forward onto the wheel.

Crimson stained gloves pinched around the cigarette in his hand, Tommy's long coated frame stood in front of the rear headlights of the abandoned car as a cloud of smoke parted in front of his eyes to the emerging sight of the picturesque cottage you and your daughter slept peacefully inside of.

" Sweet dreams, my darlings"

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219 @whereismymindnow @honeymoon8 @bruhidkjustwannaread

@strrvnge @paintedinpinks @edgyficuselastica @strangeions @youngbananamilkshake

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth: quiet midnights, gleaming steel, faint incense smoke, the scrape of a whetstone, books lined perfectly on a bookshelf, cold rain against bare skin, polished black leather, bitter ginger tea at dawn, weighted blankets in winter, sharp ice crystals, scratched classical CDs, weathered angel statues with missing wings, sharpened pencils in neat rows, morning fog over empty streets, delicate frost patterns on windowpanes, steel-gray skies before snow, silent films in empty theaters, cat footprints on documents, mathematical equations, unopened mail, clean sword oil, abandoned chess pieces, mint tea leaves.

Genesis: spilled red wine on white papers, chipped maroon nail polish on piano keys, gold bangles clinking against wine glasses, vintage vinyl at dusk, steaming mulled cider with cinnamon sticks, smudged eyeliner after theater rehearsals, leather-bound books with gilded edges, dark chocolate with sea salt breaking under his teeth, dog-eared poetry collections, playing cards scattered across silk sheets, cherry candy staining his tongue red, cologne bottles on antique vanities, melted red candle wax on love letters, fresh ink bleeding through parchment, caramelized apple pie, packed jazz bars at 2am, velvet curtains, stage makeup, worn dance shoes, red leather gloves, theater tickets.

Angeal: petrichor on summer mornings, fresh ground coffee beans, sunrise training sessions, polaroid cameras with worn straps, mismatched lucky keychains, pencil sketches in margins, old photos in cracked leather wallets, soup simmering on stovetops, buzzing radio stations between cities, dappled sunlight through garden leaves, evening cicada songs, autumn leaves crushed underfoot, soft worn flannel shirts, pressed flowers, acoustic guitars, wrinkled maps with coffee stains, soil under fingernails, homemade bread, herb gardens, worn pottery, recipe books, wooden spoons, patched jeans, morning dew, pocket knives.

AGS: loud laughter, discarded pizza boxes, arguments dissolving into jokes, snorted milk, tangled legs under a blanket, whispers in a packed room, empty mugs littered around a table, quiet yawns, bitten apples, ring tones, a half-finished puzzle scattered across the floor, a messy kitchen, heads on each other's shoulders, rock-paper-scissors, scattered dice, sour candy, bumping elbows, the glow of a tv screen, borrowed hoodies, stolen phone chargers, dirty dishes, arms around shoulders, inside jokes.

[15-lizards]

okay. here me out here, hannah. wooden jewelry in the northern houses. old fallen branches of weirwood trees being passed down through families. simple wooden bangles to elaborate rings to show status.

also wood has a way lower heat capacity and doesn't get as cold as metal jewelry. so!! practicality. also the rustic aesthetic of it all. wood is a lot more flimsy if a material so they'd be in higher demand and could show off how graceful young ladies are bc they don't bang them around on stuff and break them lmao (rip to all of the wooden bangles i've lost bc i accidentally hit them against a table or something i'm so sorry rip bangles)

i think sansa (or even jeyne poole) would rock some wooden bangles bc she still wants to be fashionable and draped in jewelry in the north but ned thinks it looks silly and is so practical so he gifts her a bunch of wooden ones. i'd like to know what you think about this idea :) 💕

Yup yup yup

Mothers pass down their weirwood hair combs to their daughters. Girls who are marrying outside of the north don’t have a complete wedding trousseau until they have a pendant made of the wood of godswood tree from their home. Sansa and Jeyne beg the woodworkers to make them matching hair clips and trade their wooden bangles as tokens of friendship :)

[enbyenvy666]

So for my next request, can you write a oneshot featuring Mirio and a male reader with harem boys, chastity and hypnosis please? In the fic, Mirio goes to an Aladdin themed spa for a part time job. There he meets the reader manager who grants him his harem uniform, plus chastity cage, and explains the types of jobs he'll be doing. But what Mirio doesn't realize is that the reader is using hypnosis on him to make him want to stay at the spa. What do you think?

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

hope you enjoy :)

CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ MDNI, dubcon, hypnosis, chastity cage, hair pulling, oral (r!receiving), reader has a hypnosis quirk, harem, sex work, dom reader, sub mirio, no beta we die like men

w/c - 1k

Mirio found himself hesitating as he stood before the dark wooden door. While the air of the spa was heated, his bare chest still felt cold, his lower half barely covered by a loin cloth. The metal jewellery around his neck and wrists felt like nothing compared to the cold metal of the cage encasing his cock. He wasn’t sure how he managed to fit inside the small device, but he did. 

Eventually, he steeled his nerves enough, taking a deep breath to calm the anxiety swirling in his stomach. Knocking on the door, a call for him to enter quickly replied. With a smile to hide his nerves, he entered the room. The smell of incense flooded his senses, the room a little hazy from the smoke. Other men were in the room wearing the same uniform as Mirio, and he found himself wondering if they were also made to wear a cock cage.

Lounging on a plush chaise lounge in nothing but a silk robe, you smiled when you saw Mirio enter. You noticed his nerves, even as he tried to hide it, in the way his muscular shoulders tensed and how his eyes flickered around everyone in the room. Standing from the velvety chair, you met Mirio halfway into the room, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. 

“Don’t be nervous, darling.”

Your voice sounded like honey, and it would’ve calmed him if he hadn’t noticed the eyes of every other man in the room, some with jealous expressions. Realising it did nothing to calm him, you reached for his hand, fingers running over the cold bangles on his wrist. Pulling him over to the day bed, some of the men reluctantly moved out of the way so he could sit with you. He had to resist the urge to apologise to them, ever the people pleaser. You brought his attention back to you by cupping his cheeks once more and leaning in close. He gasped softly, but that was perfect as you breathed out, making him inhale the intoxicating air. 

His muscles relaxed, his nerves tingling and his brain turning mush. He leaned into your touch and the men around you chuckled as they watched the newbie turn to mush in your hands. You hummed happily, letting go of his face to hold his hands instead. 

“What’s your name, darling?”

“Mirio Togata,” he replied, eyes watching your lips, in search of whatever made him feel so good.

“And what did the manager tell you?”

“To do whatever you want.”

“Will you do that, Mirio?” The blonde hesitated again, his mind running wild with what ‘whatever’ could be. You leaned in close again, breathing out again as you asked, 

“Will you be good for me?”

It was at this moment that he realised there wasn’t any incense in the room, the sweet smell and the haze were from your hypnotising exhales. But as he breathed it in again, he didn’t care anymore. As the calming waves washed over him, he thought about how good he wanted to be for you. The thought sent a pulse to his cock which ached painfully in its cage. He winced before he could respond to you, shifting uncomfortably. You pouted sympathetically and lifted his loin cloth to eye the cage. 

“If you’ll be my good boy, I’ll take it off for you,” you offered, stroking over the metal device. He couldn’t feel your touch but he wished he did, he prayed he could feel your soft hand around him. He nodded vigorously, trying his hardest not to grab you, touch you and feel you. But you felt how his hands shook, gripping his jaw and pulling him close. 

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t need any convincing, kissing you like a man starved. Your saliva was more intoxicating than your breath, and goosebumps rose across his skin. He lost his self-control when your fingers weaved through his blonde locks, gently tugging on them. He pushed you back until your back met the raised backrest of the lounge, hands tugging on the tie of your robe. You didn’t have to tell him what you wanted, with every kiss he knew exactly how to make you happy. 

Pushing the silk robe aside revealed your hard cock, standing tall and proud. He was quick to wrap his hand around it, making you hiss through your teeth. Mirio shuffled back on the lounge until he was face to face with your length, gazing at your reddened tip. 

“He’s an eager one, isn’t he?”

Your teasing question was met by chuckles from around the room which turned to coos as you moaned from Mirio’s tongue gliding up your cock from base to tip. As he took you in his mouth, he watched the hands of the others caress your bare body. One of the men began to kiss you, and an almost jealousy swelled in the pit of Mirio’s stomach. Determined to make you focus on only him, he hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head. He felt some satisfaction when you pulled on his hair, hips thrusting up into his wet mouth, cock hitting the back of his throat. One hand massaged your sack, the other reaching down between his legs, hoping to alleviate the painful ache. 

If he made you feel good, you’ll take it off. If he makes you cum, you’ll take it off. He told himself over and over, motivating him almost as much as when you would curse from pleasure above him. Swirling his tongue over your tip had you roughly tugging on his hair, but taking you down to the base had you moaning and groaning, more of that hypnotising breath leaving your lungs. Your hips stuttered, twisting his blonde hair in your fist as your orgasm came to its peak. Roughly shoving his head down until his nose met your pelvis, your cum rocketed down his throat, to which he hungrily swallowed. 

Sitting up, beady blue eyes glaring impatiently down at you, waiting for you to unlock his cage and give him the relief he prayed for. Instead, you smirked at him, slowly stroking your flaccid cock, slick with his saliva until it began to inflate again. 

“Do it again, won’t you?”

For a second, Mirio felt an almost sense of betrayal and confusion, until you leaned in close and sighed deeply.

“Won’t you, Mirio?”

[pussydestroyer10110]

Jake Sully x Avatar!Reader x Neytiri

Chapter 8: Dragon Lady

Word count - 1.1k (not proofread)

Note: Sorry for the long hiatus! Exam season is finally over yippee and I kept seeing notifications of people liking the story so I kind of rushed this part out so sorry if I'm a bit rusty! Thank you all for sticking with me, love ya

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

The entrance to the woven hut was shielded by a curtain of wooden beads, each small ornament varying from the rest with their marred surface coated by earthy paint colours of auburn and deep greens giving away their hand crafted status. The gentle breeze caused the soft whistling of some hollowed branches crafted into a wind-chime hanging out the front with each wooden limb clashing into the next with a small yelp. These touches were easily missed by an ignorant eye but to you, it gave you hope - hope that possibly the dragon lady inside had a keen eye that appreciated finer details, someone that saw value in everything.

Neytiri stepped in before you, her four lingered hand pulling back the aforementioned beads revealing Moat sitting in the centre of her large home, cross-legged and eyes closed. Ancient words fell from her lips as she prayed to the Goddess, not acknowledging your presence but she knew you all were there.

Neytiri didn't dare interrupt her mother knowing she held her religious beliefs as one of her utmost priorities, she held the beads open for you as she stepped aside, allowing you and her mate to trail in behind her. Hesitantly, you creep your way into the hut and huddled yourself mere inches from Neytiri as Jake followed suit and stood casually beside you.

The air was filled with a respectful silence from you three as you allowed the elder woman to continue her chant undisturbed, giving you time for your eyes to flit across the interior of this sacred place.

The theme of greens, browns and oranges didn't go unnoticed, they were everywhere: in woven tapestries on the curved walls; more beaded strings coating almost every surface and then finally painted on chests and boxes filled with all her possessions.

These colours were occasionally broken by stark whites strewn strategically in tribal swirls and points or by the kaleidoscopic colours reflected on the walls from the midday sun shining through colourful glass ornaments, holding hues of a muddy purple, bright yellow and a beautiful blue that was akin to the planets seas. Some of the boxes held clay jars filled with aromatic herbs and crushed pastes, their ancient medicinal properties almost incomprehensible to you with your experience of the modern medicine from back home.

Moat gently swayed in time with her chants, rasing her bangled arms every now and then and moving them rhythmically around her like a second nature, it was enrapturing to watch. The air was light around her, the open back of her home allowing the sun to stream in around her, painting her silhouette at your feet as it beamed and she beamed along with it.

Soon the chants slowed to a natural stop and her cat-like like eyes snapped open to reveal the yellow eyes that darkened to an amber towards the pupil. Her eyes flitted up, honing in on the figure of her daughter, Jake Sully and most importantly - you.

“This is dreamwalker?”

She spoke in her mother tongue, her question more of a statement as she already had her answer the moment she laid eyes on you.

Still her daughter gave an obedient nod in response while Jake stood still beside you.

You keep your head tilted down as you fight the natural urge to evade her prying eyes but out of respect you allow your gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked at you, no hint of a smile on her lips, now you knew where Neytiri got it from.

In a swift motion she was standing, steadily approaching you as from around her neck she plucked a hooked tooth from a strange necklace, its tip menacingly sharp. Stopping a bit before you she suddenly reaches out, pricking your chest with the tooth with no warning causing you to instantly flinch back in shock, your hand cupping over the pinprick on your chest as you subconsciously give her an unimpressed stare causing Jake to discretely nudge you and Neytiri to swat you with her tail.

Moat seems unphased as she runs the tooth over her tongue, the droplet of your blood being wiped clean from it, her eyes still trained on you as she reinserts the tooth back in its sheath and tastes the irony tang of your blood. Soon enough you fix your face to a more neutral one with the small hints of a terrified smile.

She tuts slightly before speaking again again.

“What are you called?”

She asks in her thickly accented voice.

You swiftly answer with your name, first and last before she repeats it herself.

Jake and Neytiri have yet to speak a word to their mother and mother-in-law respectively and she doesn't acknowledge them.

“My daughter and her mate seem to think there is some potential in you, that you were a friend of Grace Augustine.”

She states as if daring you to speak.

“Do you agree?”

She then asks, looking at you with a tone of curiosity.

“Grace believed my purpose was here and slowly I've begun to believe that too, I know you and you're people owe nothing to me in fact I owe you much more but I know that if you give me a chance, if Eywa gives me a chance I can show my worth in some way.”

You reason, pleading your case.

Moat waits a moment before giving a single nod of her head, an action to which Neytiri seems to let out a sigh of relief with then for the first time since your arrival Moat turns her gaze towards Jake.

“Jake Sully, you believe she is like you?”

She asks as if challenging him.

“I do”

He answers simply, respectfully.

“Daughter?”

Moat then asks, turning to face Neytiri.

“Yes mother, I agree with Jake”

She says with a small nod of her own.

Moat nods then after a moment she looks between Jake and Neytiri before training her eyes back on you.

“Very well, my daughter and her mate will teach you our ways just as he was taught, you will learn our language, our hunting, our culture, I expect you to learn quickly”

She says, her hands clasped in front of her.

You nod quickly, bowing your head to her slightly in respect.

“Thank you Moat”

You say gratefully, your eyes now gleaming with an unbridled excitement.

With Moats approval you now had a gateway into the culture experienced by very few outsiders, you had a chance of a new life.

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 12)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

⚠️IMPORTANT!⚠️

Tw: This chapter includes some fairly graphic descriptions of violence, and a minor character attempting to SA the main character. He does not get far before he gets a pretty brutal comeuppance from J and the main character. I've not included this lightly, SA is of course a serious topic - but this is an exaggerated revenge fantasy which I personally found a lot of catharsis in writing.

Part 12 -

The time soon came to start rattling some cages and J's demeanour changed. First he became more distant and agitated, then,

by the time I'd checked us out of the motel and returned to the car, he was calm and still. I knew that meant whatever plan he had was now in motion. The first stop on the little tour was not what I had expected as we pulled up outside an unremarkable house in a run-down neighbourhood.

"Stay here," he commanded sternly.

"But-" I began in protest.

"Stay. Here." he hissed.

I relented and shrank back into my seat, the dark look in his eyes sending a cold chill through me.

He soon returned with one of his men, who was silent, in tow. The man clambered into the back, after failing to hide his surprise at seeing I was occupying the passenger seat. I figured the guy wasn't expecting a home visit from his missing boss and, catching sight of an anxious little face peering out of the window for a second before the curtains drew closed again, I realised he didn't live alone. Perhaps that was why he was the first stop, because J knew he had the easiest buttons to push - he had a family. Maybe that also meant he would be the last man to betray his boss. You could never tell for sure, but if he cared about his family at all, he wouldn't risk it. Not in a million years.

"(Y/n), this is Antoni Kaminski," J announced as we pulled away from the house.

The man nodded to me sheepishly.

"Just call me Tony, everyone does," he said in a thick Polish accent.

"Okay," I nodded back robotically, still wondering what his story was. Was he one of the men J had poached from the mob?

We stopped off at an old warehouse. I sat in the car until J waved me out.

"You can come along for this part," He said with a sly look on his face.

Part of me was afraid - did he expect me to take part in something violent with them?

I was relieved when the three of us instead stopped inside by a stack of various crates. Tony used a crow bar to lever several of the wooden lids clear. Inside of each was all manner of strange things.

The first one I peered into looked as though someone had raided a circus, or maybe a carnival - it was full of vintage style clothing. The fabrics were a riot of clashing patterns and colours - harlequin, checkerboard, tartan, argyle, polkadot, houndstooth, and paisley. I began to pull out some of the garments, digging through them in confusion. There was velvet, lace, satin, chiffon, and leather, all thrown in together. There were tights, stockings, hats, gloves, petticoats, ruffles and collars, suit jackets, shirts, a wedding veil, scarves, bracelets and bangles, belts with coins and beads and bells. I found a beautiful green sari, an embroidered pair of velvet gloves, a string of pom poms. It seemed to never end... I laughed in disbelief at the overwhelming sea of fabric scattered around me.

"Take what you like," J said, as he directed Tony to open two more crates.

Overcome with curiosity, I watched as he produced a coat hanger with a plastic bag over the top - like the kind you got at the drycleaners. He had a curious look of relief on his face and I quickly realised that it held his suit. Of course he would have multiples - the thought never occurred to me before but it made total sense. He disappeared out of view with the bag while I continued to look for a replacement for my scruffy, stolen t-shirt.

I found a dark red velvet blouse; high necked with long sleeves which turned into something flared from the elbow to the wrist - multiple layers of shimmering red fabric fluting outwards. There was such a huge volume and variety, possibly even some I recognised from the store where we had originally crossed paths, that I managed to find a full change of clothes, underwear included.

Tony made himself scarce, carrying various tools and weapons out to the car in a large duffle bag. Once I had struggled out of the dirty clothes I'd been stuck in, I felt a wave of relief. The outfit I'd cobbled together was thankfully muted enough that it wasn't going to attract any more attention than the scruffy mess I was beforehand. For once I actively wanted to keep to being unremarkable and unnoticed. The top was pretty, the black flared jeans complementing it and even pairing nicely with the black combat boots I was stuck with. I found a belt with an ornate gold buckle and a long black coat lined in a shade of burgundy satin which complimented the velvet top and would keep me warm.

I gathered a few extra items of clothing so that I had spares and stuffed them into a stray duffle bag. Then I found something else in one of the crates which drew my full attention. It was a beautiful Venetian mask, Carnivale style with protruding spikes of fabric framing the cracked white skin of a doll-like face. The spikes of black velvet fabric were bordered by gold brocade, and sat like the petals of a giant flower, each one tipped with a dangling golden bell which hung around the white face. The delicate motionless lips shone with gold. I reached out to touch it, gently tracing the hairline cracks of the aged porcelain and wondering who it had belonged to.

J reappeared, and though I knew it was coming, his freshly painted face and full suit still startled me. He was only missing two things. I held out the coat I had relinquished in favour of my newer aquisition, and he threaded each arm into the sleeves to shrug it into place. Then, as he turned around to face me again, I handed over the knife from the pocket of my cargo pants, stuffing them back into my duffle bag of spoils. He clicked open the blade, turning it this way and that, before closing it and pocketing it once more. For a moment the reality that I might have just handed him the tool for another human being's destruction flooded into my brain. I hurriedly tried to push it aside.

Tony had returned and he pulled out a mask not dissimilar to the ones I had seen J's men wearing as they pushed their terrified hostages into the corner of the dress store. It seemed like a strangely distant memory to me now... I turned back to the carnival mask. This one was uncanny too, but in a different way. It was hauntingly beautiful, much more delicate and refined in its shape and features.

"Take it," urged J's now familiar voice beside my right ear.

I watched as he stepped out in front of me and spun around to meet my gaze. He looked so different like this. At first, I had been startled by the appearance of the man beneath all the layers of clothes and paint, but now I was startled by the re-appearance of the nightmarish clown stood before me.

He handed the mask over to me as I continued to stare like a deer in the headlights.

"Hello?" he said, grasping my jaw with a purple gloved hand and turning it side to side, "earth to doll face, anybody home?"

I blinked and snapped out of my stupor, meeting his gaze directly, and feeling like all the air rushed out of my lungs as I did.

I had forgotten just how frightening the paint could be. I had forgotten just how frightening he could be.

He put on a wide brimmed hat that matched his coat - the kind a detective in an crime noir movie might be sporting.

"We're leaving," he announced, suddenly turning on his heels and striding out towards the car.

I quickly grabbed a plastic bag of assorted makeup and tossed it into my bag. Tony stopped me as I went to follow after J.

"Hey, you wanna take some things from this one?" he gestured to a nearby crate.

Looking inside, I saw that it was loaded full of a very random assortment of weapons. I could see brass knuckles, grenades, knives, various types of guns and ammunition, a hammer, and numerous other kinds of household items which could easily double as weaponry. I shook my head nervously, much to his surprise.

"I'm... I'm not getting hands-on," I said shakily, praying he didn't think I was just some stupid distraction for his boss.

He shrugged.

"Ok but put something in the car for later? You never know," He suggested.

Not wanting to offend him when he was choosing to be nice to me, I took the crowbar he'd left leaning against the crate and carried it out to the car. I put it in the trunk beside the grey duffle bag stuffed full of weapons. I was glad my bag was a different colour - navy blue - as I tossed it in and shoved it into the opposite corner. You wouldn't want to get them mixed up. Then I watched in surprise as Tony swapped the car's licence plates with casual efficiency and got into the passenger seat.

We drove downtown in silence. I could see via the mirror that Tony looked uneasy - understandably so: even if he wasn't a rat, he would know better than anyone that J was out for blood. I felt uneasy myself at the uncertainty of what I had signed up for by actively deciding to stay. It was one thing to have found myself bonding with J in the purgatory-like headspace we'd both been forced into lately, but entirely another to be riding shotgun as the Joker was preparing to slaughter the men who turned against him. It was a very different feeling to be even a silent observer to his movements across the city. Out here he was a force of nature, watching him now was like watching the churning waters of the river as I clung to the bridge. I found myself fixating on his hands as he gripped the wheel - leather gloved and squeezing till his knuckles pressed against the fabric so hard they looked as though they could pop out. His jaw flexed as he stayed laser focused on the road ahead. His whole body seemed taut, wired with anticipation.

When the car pulled up in a wide alleyway, a hulking monstrosity of a man opened the back door to whatever place we had arrived at. He was so broad had to step through it sideways on. I was expecting to be told to stay in the car again, but to my surprise J opened my door for me.

"Stay behind us and don't interfere," was all he warned, tilting the brim of the hat down so that people wouldn't see his painted face so easily.

"Interfere... with what exactly?" I muttered to myself as I entered behind Tony and the enormous man who let us in. Tony turned back toward me with a look of concern.

"Things are going to get very ugly soon, maybe don't watch," he whispered, with an air of genuine concern.

My stomach was tying itself in knots as we slipped down a dark hallway, past a bustling kitchen. The fluorescent lights and glinting silver surfaces, the hiss of steam from enormous Woks and people struggling around the claustrophic space was more noise than I had encountered for days. The smell of raw chilli felt like it was actively burning my nostrils as we passed by. We soon bore left and approached a large set of double doors. I could hear the dull thudding of music being played loud, the bassline shaking the walls and floor.

As the doors were thrown open, the full force of the undampened sound hit me like a wave. The beat was fast paced and repetetive, the kind of mindless dance music you had to be under some kind of intoxication - be it drugs or alcohol - to enjoy. The enormous man who let us in stepped aside and did not follow as we entered, instead returning to his post beside the door, arms folded over his chest. All around us a mass of bodies twisted and jumped wildly to the beat, people were lined up against the wall with drinks and cigarettes in hand. The white flashes of the strobe lights made their forms seem to flicker and glitch, jumping from pose to pose like they some kind of garish tableaux vivant, or a series of photographs in a flip book animation. The room's main source of lighting came from the vibrant green light behind the bar, making it look like some kind of mirage rising out of the near darkness. It certainly seemed to be a watering hole for some, as the men and women jostled to get to the front for their next orders.

It all seemed shockingly mundane. I hadn't been inside a place like this for years. I could see people aggressively making out in the darker corners of the room, drunkenly fumbling around, while the main mass of patrons were congregated on the dancefloor in the centre of the room. We weaved in and out of the crowd until we reached the VIP booths section.

The security man seemed apprehensive as he moved the rope for the Joker and Tony to enter. I was a little further behind and tried to follow only to find a strong arm block my path.

"Sorry miss, gotta have a pass," he explained, rehooking the rope barrier.

"But, I - " I looked on in despair, alas my two companions were already out of sight. He would never believe I was with them.

Figuring it would be worse to cause a scene, I stepped back. I would just have to wait by the bar then, I thought to myself. It was only about five paces to the left and the extreme end was empty enough. I leant against it, trying to be as invisble as possible. It might have just worked, if not for me accidentally making a fleeting moment of eye contact with a man in the queue. He sidled around the corner of the bar to be next to me, immediately slipping an arm around my shoulders which I firmly but politely removed.

"So whatcha drinking? What can I get you?" He asked.

"Oh, um, no thanks. I'm fine," I tried to wave him off.

"Ah come on, just one drink?" He pushed.

I tried to look over the the VIP booths, but couldn't see J anywhere.

"You know, I'm just waiting for my friend, we are leaving soon," I said awkwardly, shrinking away from him as much as possible.

The bar tender turned to him.

"I'll have a bottle of that, and, uh, for her...?" He turned to me as if to say, 'go on'.

The bar tender was looking at me impatiently.

"Uh, Jack and cola. Single," I said hurriedly, hoping that the two of them would be done with whatever they came here for before I had to drink it. My hopes were dashed so I quickly picked it up from the bar as soon as it was poured and nodded in appreciation before downing it.

"Whoah, thought you didn't want a drink," he scoffed in shock.

"Oh so you just pretended not to hear that part then?" I muttered, turning to face outwards with my back against the bar.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry, i didn't mean to be... pushy," he said sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

I laughed lightly under my breath.

"So uh, what brings you here?" He asked, still not reading the obvious signs of my disapproval.

"...work, I guess," I sighed distractedly, trying to see into the VIP section again.

I quickly realised he had interpreted my answer to mean something else entirely, when his face lit up in excitement.

"How much you askin'?" He urged.

I was too stunned to answer for a moment.

He pressed again.

"How much for us to go out back?" He asked with a smirk.

I suddenly spotted J and Tony forcefully escorting another man out of the VIP section towards the exit. Ignoring the creep next to me I slipped around him and darted into the crowd to follow after them, accidentally knocking into a few people in my hurry. The huge man on the door seemed to be deliberately off duty, looking the other way and was not at his post.

I slipped out of the sweaty, all-consuming nightclub and past the noisy kitchen into the night air. I was just in time to see J, with the knife held to the throat of their captive as Tony taped his hands and feet together.

"Scream and I'll cut out your tongue," J's voice rang out as they continued to bind him. Then they slapped a final piece of tape over his mouth and bundled him into the trunk of the car. Silence followed as they both shut him in.

Suddenly, I was slammed aggressively against the wall. The man from the bar had followed me outside and I had been too distracted to notice, so he'd caught me completely off-guard. I felt his body pressed up against me and desperately tried to wriggle free.

"Let me go!" I urged.

"Hey, I just want your business. Can you blame me? You look new. Most of the girls in this part of town are run down and used up, but you..." the look in his eyes terrified me as I continue to struggle.

"Help!" I screamed out.

In response he clamped a hand over my mouth to try and stop me from crying out.

Suddenly, his demeanour changed as his fingers touched my scars. He recoiled a little in shock making a noise of disgust.

"I didn't realise you had a face like that, you're a fucking catfish!" He laughed in disbelief.

I scrambled slightly further out of his grasp but he still had ahold of my collar in his tightly closed fist.

"If i'm so disgusting to you then why don't you just let me go?" I spat, full of venom.

"I figure it's not all bad, you'll just have to give me a generous discount, and I'll just have to turn you around," he grinned.

There was something truly sickening about the careless way he said something so truly vile.

I stomped his foot as hard as I could and bit down on his arm until I drew blood, which was just enough for him to let me go. I fell forwards and scrabbled to get back up but froze for a second when I saw the familiar combination of dusty dress shoes and pinstriped purple pants. Looking up, I saw J towering over me as I coughed and spat blood onto the sidewalk, gagging in total revulsion.

J had an expression like a thundercloud, and stood stock still - a look I had seen only a handful of times by now, but I knew it meant he was feeling particularly murderous. He wordlessly tugged me back up to my feet as the attacker turned to face us.

"How much of that did you see?" I muttered through gritted teeth, seething with rage.

"Enough," J said flatly, pushing his hair back away from his forehead.

The attacker looked pissed that someone had interrupted him, stepping forward as though he was about to rail on us both... and then his eyes met those of the man in the purple coat. As he recognised the face paint, his expression melted into one of fear. It was espescially gratifying to see the power balance shift so totally in real time. He raised both his hands slightly as if to try and placate the man beside me. This was a terrible mistake on his part, as with surprising efficiency J swept forward and rammed a knife clean through his left palm, spearing it into the door behind us.

The man let out a scream like an animal in a bear trap as he squirmed, unable to move without further injuring himself. Blood was pouring out of the open wound and the knife was driven so deep into the wood that only the handle was visible, sticking out of his palm at a perfect right angle. J's face was no longer angry, and a kind of sinister calmness had settled over him.

The injured man's screaming gave way to sobbing.

"Please, I'm sorry. I don't want any trouble. I didn't know she belonged to you or I would've never touched her, I swear," he pleaded, voice cracking in sheer desperation

"She doesn't belong to me," J said, leaning over the man and stroking his hair mockingly.

I was vibrating with rage at the pathetic creature in front of me and what he thought he could get away with - what he had probably spent a lifetime getting away with.

"Tell me, what do you think an appropriate punishment for someone like yourself is?" J asked casually, stroking the side of his face.

"I - what?" He thought for a moment, "I'll - i'll turn myself into the police I swear! Please!," he broke down into full choking sobs and hung his head.

"Not good enough, the crooked cops will just let you go," I hissed, feeling like something was taking over me.

J's gaze darted away from the crumpled man in front of him to me. I was trembling with rage. A sly shadow of a smile and a dangerous spark of approval lit up his face.

He crossed over to the trunk of the car, pulling something out and slamming it shut again. Then he approached me and handed me the crow bar I had put there earlier. It was heavy and the metal was ice cold to the touch. I met his gaze as he withdrew his hands.

"I'll be in the car. What you do with him is entirely your choice."

A wicked grin spread across his features, enhanced by the red painted smile. I gripped the handle as I considered the full weight of the situation. As promised, he retreated to the car, leaving me to decide the fate of the man in front of me. I knew he would be watching, to see what I'd do.

I was so angry. It was like this final attempt at the unspeakable had dragged up every single other horrible experience at the hands of cruel men, from the minute to the massive: from street harassment, to an abusive and controlling ex-boyfriend. All of those years of suppressed anger simmering away... This man was less than a man. He was an animal. His behaviour had confirmed it. He was too casual with it, far too cruel: this wasn't his first time. He clearly enjoyed abusing the powerless, clearly got off on it.

"You don't want to do this, you're kind. I can te -" he tried to reason with me.

The intrusion of his voice was the final straw and I didn't let him finish the sentence - swinging the crowbar in a perfect arc so that it crashed into his jaw. It knocked him to the right and he screamed in pain.

"You stupid bitch!" He cursed, spitting two of his teeth into the gutter.

BAM. I hit him again.

"Stop fucking talking!" I barked with a ferocity I didn't know I had in me.

He glared up at me, blood dripping from his mouth. I continued:

"Listen here you sick fuck, for once in your goddamn life you are going to listen, okay?"

He said nothing, testing me.

BAM. I brought the crowbar down on the fingers of his good hand, hearing an audible crack. Again his screams rang out, but only to fall on deaf ears.

"Did you hear me? Nod so that I know you understand," I hissed.

He nodded, looking up at me with the purest contempt in his eyes. I jabbed the curved end of the bar under his chin to force him to look up at me.

"Good. Now, I don't know how many times you've ignored the words 'no' from a woman, but I'd bet good money that it's a fucking lot. If you EVER, and I mean EVER step one toe out of line, so help me god, I will find you and you will wish I killed you right here in this alley. You've seen the company I keep... you know how he has ways of keeping tabs on people." I spat.

I jabbed the bar tighter against his windpipe.

"Have I made myself abundantly fucking clear?"

He nodded defeatedly.

"Good", I muttered.

For good measure I swung a truly impressive upper cut with the bar to his crotch which had him squealing like a pig as he crumpled up.

"And because, as you pointed out, I am a kind person, I'm going to do you a favour before I go."

I lined up the teeth of the crow bar with the handle of the knife and levered it out of the door, illiciting a final scream of pure agony from him. As it yielded and he fell in a bloody heap on the floor, I tugged the blade out of his hand. The gory sight almost turned my stomach but I turned and quickly got into the back seat of the idling car.

Tony was in the driver's seat and J was in the back with me but I didn't look at either of them as I slammed the door shut behind me and tossed the weapons to the floor.

"You brought back my knife, how thoughtful," J purred.

I couldn't find the humour in his joke and remained silent as the car pulled away.

"I didn't kill him, but I did teach him a valuable lesson... I hope," I said finally breaking my long silence as we crossed into the fringes of the docks.

The joker said nothing but I could feel his eyes on me, that analytical, calculating, gaze again.

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

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Dividers by @strangergraphics

[owlfashioned]

I haven't written in ages, please enjoy.

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook/Antivan Crow/Spellsword

SFW/Fluff/I don't have an AO3 account yet weeee

~Tea Time~

There was something magical about strange herbs in hot water. Not the herbs the Crows used to dull the minds of their victims, no, but the ones that Rook would smell wafting from the kettle over the fire in the Lighthouse. The real fire, not the blue-green veilfire that caused the dark stone to always look like light filtering through shallow pools.

The plants inside each concoction would change, depending on the mood of the creator. From light and fruity when a battle had gone well to the smell of campfire and smoke when something particularly disturbing had revealed itself. As time passed, Rook knew exactly how the tea’s creator had felt with each simmering pot. 

She didn’t know why she was so drawn to him. She was an assassin, a Crow, a spellsword, a murderer. He’d probably soothed spirits trapped in the bodies of some of her victims, helping them rest after she had brutally struck them down in the dark. But here she was, and there he was, all elaborate robes and bangles and kind eyes while she stared at his back all sharp features, sharp blades, and an even sharper tongue. 

She watched him now, digging through jars of multi-colored plants that he’d stored in a makeshift larder near the hearth, mumbling to himself while he handed them to his skeleton servant. Friend? They weren’t even labeled. She’d seen him on multiple occasions grab a handful of plants while they were on missions only to stuff them absently into an odd-shaped jar for later use. 

Manfred’s jaw opened slightly and he began to teeter as Emmrich handed him a tall jar filled with wicked looking seed pods. His head tilted towards Rook as if to ask for help but she had already stood up, inhumanly fast, to catch the falling jar of tea. 

“Ah, thank you Rook.” He didn’t even look over his shoulder. “Manfred just say something next time if you need help," he chuckled, knowing the animated creature of bones and cloth couldn't talk.

The skeleton looked as indignant as he could and clacked his jaw shut. She swore she shared a knowing look with him as to say “please help this old fool”, but it was probably just her imagination. Rook was so close to the necromancer she could smell the tea he was making in an intricate bronze kettle. It was different than any of the ones he’d made before, this time she smelled flowers. Roses? They smelled so familiar to her. 

“Emmrich what are you making this time? It smells delightful. It reminds me of Antiva for some reason.” She moved over to the circular wooden table in the center of the room and pushed over a few maps and battle plans, including some inappropriate drawings Bellara had made of Assan biting the heads off of demons. As she set the jars down she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck while he spoke slowly, deliberately, following the sound of tea pouring and cup against saucer. 

“Antivan coastal roses, elfroot, orange essence, a light, airy red tea that brews a deep purple if the water is hot enough.” 

There it was. That soft voice, that caring tone, and the feeling it caused in her chest that she fought to force down. 

“That’s ah, oddly specific. Is this because of what happened with the dragon? I thought death was something beautiful," she awkwardly shifted a few scrolls around the table. "Plus it was only a scratch.”

She’d been unconscious for three days and Taash had built her a coffin.

“Not when it’s someone you would much rather see amongst the living.”

The touch on her shoulder nearly caused her to jump out of her skin. She had no idea how that man walked so silently with so much ridiculous jewelry on. It had to be dark, twisted magic. 

She felt him reach around her with his other hand and hold the tea in front of her face. The cup was white and covered in deep green vines on a delicate plate, the tea a dark purple color steaming and smelling like roses and orange and sunshine on the coast. He didn’t move his hand and she was incredibly thankful he couldn’t see her face blush at his proximity behind her. 

“The elfroot is because I’ve still seen you limping,” he whispered, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She couldn’t move, he was too close to her and she could feel the heat radiating off him and the tea and her mind froze. She reached for the cup and took a sip, it was all she could do. 

It tasted more floral than she had expected, along with the brightness of the orange, but slightly sweet. He must have added honey to cover up the bitterness of the elfroot.

“I like it. Thank you Emmrich.”

She could have sworn he got closer to her before he took his hand away. 

“I think I’ll call it the Crow’s Cure,” his voice was soft again. Gentle, caring, and in the pit of her stomach she knew it was a voice he saved just for her.

“I’ll make it for you whenever you desire."

[happy-beeeps]

Day 6/7: Gifts and Stars

Summary: After educating Din on the holidays of your home system, you realize you forgot to get him a gift for one of the most important.

WC: 3.4k oops

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT NSFW MINORS DNI!!!!! Massage, fingering, handjob, p-in-v sex, reader is afab. Unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it! Soft smut!!!

A/N: okok so I've alreaady lost the plot but my goal is to get 8 AND 9 out tomorrow so I'm back on track. As an apology, please expect 3.5k words of gratituots Din smut and feelings.

18+ Only Below the Cut

Din had been incredibly receptive the first time you told him about the holidays of your home system. He had celebrated your family and home together during the festival of the hearth, had cooked local foods during the independence celebration. Now, it was time for your favorite holiday, and the one you were most anxious about.

Amordi wasn’t, like, entirely a holiday built around sex. It wasn’t not that but, like any good holiday, there was a fable behind it.

Of course, no one really knew the fable anymore but, there was a point—at some point.

What Amordi was now was an excuse to be in love, or to celebrate being in love. Little kids would pick each other flowers, or shower their parents in handmade gifts. Friends would spend the day together, gushing over one another with platonic love and declarations of a friendly devotion.

Couples… did a number of things.

The hip, young people were taking spice, claiming that the drug made them connect with their partners and made getting physical all the more sensational. Older couples spent the day holding hands, looking at holovids of their weddings, pampering each other with the kind of devotion only decades can bring.

You hadn’t really thought about you and Din—didn’t even tell him about it. How do you tell your partner, “Hey, there’s a holiday coming up, and it’s expected you’re going to give me a shit ton of gifts and also the fucking of a lifetime?” You just decided to avoid it altogether.

That is, until the early evening of Amordi, when Din placed a small, wooden box on the table in front of you, while you were busy trying to spoon feed an incredibly angry 50-year-old baby.

“Happy Amordi.” He said, sitting down beside you and tapping his thumb on your chin. “I hope you like it.”

You nearly dropped the spoon in shock. Fuckkriffdankferrik how had he found out? How had he known-

“I can use the holonet too, you know?” Was his response to what must have been a look of sheer terror, and he laughed at the blush that now painted your face.

“Figured you were too old for that.”

He placed a hand on his chest and rocked back in a gesture of fake wounding. “Just open the present.”

You did as you were told, opening the small wooden box to reveal a beautiful, thin bangle of shiny metal. Along the side was a carefully inscribed mudhorn surrounded by a collection of small stars, and the realization hit you.

“Din, this is beskar.”

“I know.”

“This must have cost you a fortune,”

“It didn’t, she owed me a favor.” He picked up the delicate bracelet, how it sent a flutter down your stomach to see how delicate things looked in his hands, and showed you how to open and close it; a small clasp on the side. “It would’ve been worth it anyways.”

The she was not lost on you, and the implications of the armorer standing over her forge, making you a bracelet? It was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Din, really, this is too much.”

“But look how well you wear our crest.”

It’s the softness in his voice when he says “our” that gets you, and you place a hand on the cheek of his helmet, kicking yourself for not shutting the windows already. “It’s beautiful, Din. I can’t thank you enough.”

An hour later, and you’re trying to find a way to thank him enough. You don’t have time to go into town, it’s at least a half hour each way on the speeder, and you are not an efficient shopper. His birthday isn’t for a few months, so you haven’t gotten his gift yet. In fact, the two of you decided to forgo Life Day gifts, choosing instead to deck out Grogu’s nursery with all the bits and bobs he could ever need. Now, as Din settles the baby to sleep in the other room, you’re panicking.

Your closet is a nightmare, and you don’t even know how you acquired so much shit. Like, truly, there is so much shit in here. And none of it is helpful. At the very bottom of a pile of your things, you find a small, black wrapped package you remember picking up the one time Din took you on to a quarry on Canto Bight. An idea pops into your head. It’s a little tacky, and admittedly a cop out, but you’ll make it up to him tomorrow with a nice breakfast and something from town. For now, this will have to do.

When Din walks into the room, you’re smitten by the way the soft candlelight reflects off of his armor. You’re perched on the edge of the bed in a short, satin robe, a deep blue with shimmering stars sprayed across it. Next to you is a bottle of oil, something fancy he had gotten you on Naboo once, and you gesture to your bed. “It’s time for your gift.”

If you could see his eyebrows, you know they’d be cocked. One hand falls to his hip as the other lifts his helmet off his head, freeing his face to you at last. His expression is skeptical, but he’s grinning. “Are you the gift?”

“Please,” you scoff, motioning him to sit down and guiding him by the shoulders. The house Karga had gifted you was the perfect size for your family but, you and Din being the selfless parents you were, had chosen the smaller room. There was something so domestic about his form, large and demanding, in the small space, made even smaller by the fact that you refused to compromise on the size of the bed. “I’m giving you a massage.”

Din doesn’t say anything at first, but he does move to help you with all the buckles and clasps of his armor. Soon enough, he’s clad in just his underlayers, and you’re quick to help him out of his shirt, exposing his tanned, scarred skin to you.

“Stop oogling me,” he says, but there’s no venom in his words. Instead, his barb lands exactly where it should, and you gently push him backwards onto your bed, and poke at his hips.

“Move, flip over.”

“This is so romantic,” he says, deadpan, “I love when you prod me like a bluurg.” He listens, of course, and moves to lay tummy down on the bed.

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, and you hoist yourself up and perch yourself on the squishy part of his ass. You reach off too the side (earning a grunt from Din) and drip some of the oil onto your hands, rubbing them together to warm it up. Once you feel it’s been adequately warmed, you drag your hands from his lower back up to his shoulders and press. 

The groan Din lets out is genuinely orgasmic. You’re not sure he’s ever made a sound like that before, and to hear it at the result of your hands is… a little enticing. You work the tense muscles there, pushing your knuckles and the pads of your fingers into the knots so tense they feel like they’re made of duracrete.

“Kriff, what do you do all day, carry around bricks?”

“No, just you and the kid.” 

You send a poke to his side and his laugh rumbles through the mattress. You work him slowly, hands coming up his neck to rub at the tender spots you know his helmet digs. They drag down, along his lower back and the base of his underwear, rubbing the sore expanse of skin there. Din says little, save for “that feels good,” or “kriff, there’s a spot.” His voice is muffled into your bed, and you don’t miss the way he slowly melts like butter beneath your hands.

You figured when it was all said and done, you’d make out, fuck, and go to sleep. You know, like adults. It’s Din, it takes very little for you to want to jump his bones, and today wasn’t an exception. What you don’t expect is for the heat in your belly to grow with every tender press of your hand, or the way his groans sound deeper, more guttural with each push. You relish in the sweet joy of caring for a man who has made it his soul purpose to care for you, to protect you.

You often forget this is a man who has killed, killed for you before. You often forget how little you’ve grown to mind it.

You treat him so softly it makes your heart throb. Din deserves every good thing in this world, every buttery breakfast pastry from the cafe that just opened in town to the freshest pot of caf in the morning. You’re almost at the brink of moving beyond turned on and into pure, uncorrupted adoration when Din groans and unexpectedly pushes backwards against you, causing you to fall off of his back and onto the other side of the bed.

He sits up, then moves off the bed, standing at its foot. You simply stare up at him, his tall form, completely armorless in front of you, heart fluttering at the way his eyes rake the rest of your body.

He reaches to grab you, his hands fitting under the crooks of your arms and hoists you towards him, pulling you up off the bed and standing in front of him. His fingers fall to the soft silk of your robe, and drip down to the thin tie, dangling limply in front of your now aching core.

“Wanna give you another gift.”

“Din, I’ve hardly even given you a gift.”

“You’ve given me plenty, cyar’ika.”

His hand is tugging at the tie in an instant, and the traitorous bow falls loose almost immediately. You stand before him in the rest of the set, the lacy little thing you’d bought when you were waiting around for him in Canto Bight. It matches the robe, and his eyes water at the sight.

“The stars match my bracelet.” Is all you can offer him, feeling suddenly so exposed and so incredibly turned on. You need him now, and need him bad, more than you think you’ve needed him since the day you two got married.

“Sweet–I can’t even say the things I want to say to you now when you act so sweet.” His voice is flustered, deep. His eyes are darkened with lust and he snakes one hand around your waist, the other playing with a piece of hair that dangles dangerously close to your breast. “Want to do so much for you, mesh’la. Want to make the rest of your life so easy.”

“I don’t need easy, I just need you.” You whisper, and the sound he makes in response sends a shockwave to your core.

He’s on you in an instant, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss equal parts passionate and longing, like he’s been waiting to devour you for a lifetime. You can taste the wine you shared at dinner on his breath, and it shoots a spark in your brain. You will love this man for the rest of time and even then you’d find a way to come back to him.

His lips move to your neck as his arms guide you softly to the bed, your back flush with the mattress. It’s warm from where he was laying earlier, and he moves his body on top of yours, caging you in. You’re completely surrounded by Din–his scent, his body. You’re completely in bliss.

He kisses you further, dropping his lips from your neck, to your collarbone, to the soft curve of your breast, his hand snaking underneath you to shimmy your bra open. He breaks for a moment when he does to give you a moment to shimmy the garment off, and runs a hand through his hair.

“I will never get enough of you.” He says, thumb rubbing a soft circle against your peaked nipple. He launches back down to you a moment later, his tongue replacing his hand. He sucks at the tender flesh of your breast, nipping at the soft bud, and his hands begin to snake down your hips, hooking under your panties and you shimmy a bit so he can pull them clean off. One hand presses your hip firmly into the mattress, while the other makes soft, circular motions along your inner thigh. You try to buck into his touch but his hand presses harder, and you can feel him laugh against your breast.

“Din, please,” you beg, and he breaks away for a moment, his hand sending a soft, teasing touch against your slit. When he finds it nearly completely soaked, he groans, his head burying itself in your neck. 

“You are so good to me, so soft and perfect.”

He sucks at your neck then moves back to kiss you, a finger moving to make slow languid circles against your clit.

The sensation makes you cry out into his mouth, and he quickens his pace just slightly before pushing a digit inside of you. The sensation of being filled at all has you near begging him to do something, anything, for how bad you need him. 

“Din, please, need you,”

“I haven’t given you your gift yet,” is all he says when he breaks your kiss, smirking at you slightly. Din is quiet, never too chatty, and you’re always surprised by the sudden bold streak he gets in bed. 

He slips another finger in and hooks justright, and quickens his pace along your clit, his movements eager. He knows how to work your body, knows each spot to press, each motion to do. It’s one of the blissful things about him, how easily the two of you can read each other.

It also means he can read that the coil in your belly has tightened rather dramatically, and you’re just about to snap.

“Come on baby, let me feel you,” he murmurs as presses at just the right spot on your clit, hooks just the right spot inside that you swear only he can reach. You’re cumming around his fingers near instantly, your orgasm sending tingles down your spine, through your fingers. 

Instead of breaking away and immediately moving to remove his pants, as you’d hoped, he shifts down, moving himself so his face is right in front of your core, pressing slow, sloppy kisses to your thigh.

No, no no. You wanted to treat him this was supposed to be his gift. You’re already one orgasm in the whole, and you won’t last long with his mouth on you.

“No, Din, wait,” you start, and he backs up immediately.

“What’s wrong, do you want to stop?”

“Yes, but it’s because I need you in my mouth,” you start, moving towards him as he backs up onto his knees, and you push the waistband of both his pants and boxers down. You see the slight panic in his eyes calm at this, and he helps you remove his clothes, but he pauses when you reach for his cock, throbbing and already leaking precum.

“But what if I need you on my mouth?” He replies, and you groan, trying again to reach for him. He’s soclose and looks so good from here, you can’t resist him. 

“Din, seriously, this is your gift,”

“I feel like we’re past that, let me,”

“How about,” you pause, finally catching him and begin slowly pumping his cock in your hand. You can see him fight the groan that threatens to come out of his mouth, “We call it even and you just fuck me?”

He takes no time in considering your offer, replying with a short “deal.” Before picking you up and flipping you on your stomach.

Oh fuck, you’re in for it, you’ve taunted him and now you’re in for it. You had him facedown on this bed earlier, you should’ve know he’d be waiting for it. One of his calloused hands moves itself under your hips and brings you up, and you can feel his tip pressing against your soaked entrance as you rise.

“Are you ready for me, gorgeous girl?” He murmurs, taking a moment to press a kiss between your shoulder blades and bring your hair out from your face.

It’s cute, it’s romantic, but you need to be fucked immediately. You try and respond in a way that seems sultry, but you swear it comes out more like a yelp when you respond, “Fuck yes oh my gods.”

He pushes into you slowly, cursing the entire way. You try to fight the moan that comes on but you relent as he pushes deeper, his length once again finding every single spot inside you that threatens to have you undone after one push.

He starts his strokes slowly, hands grabbing tenderly at the flesh of your ass. He feels so good like this, pressed against you fully to the hilt, and you quite literally cannot even fathom the concept of ever feeling this good ever again, even though you know each time is better than the last.

He begins to quicken his thrusts, moving at a fast, hard speed that has you being pushed forward into the mattress with every motion. His grip on your ass tightens, and you relish in the small pinpricks of pain and the knowledge that you know there’ll be a bruise there tomorrow.

You’re getting wetter by the second, and one of his hands moves itself downwards to make a sloppy, but phenomenal, move to your clit.

“You’re, so good to me.” You pant out in response, and he groans. You can see his head dipped back over your shoulder, his adams apple bobbing.

“You’re so good to me. Wanna marry you over and over again, too perfect, too good.”

His words have that all too familiar rush of pleasure start to surge through you, and you gasp as his thrusts become deeper, harder. He starts back up again. “Won’t ever leave, can’t ever leave. There’s nowhere in this galaxy I’d rather be than right here, love you, love you so much.”

Those words enough, mixed with his quickening and brutal pace, having you clamping down on his cock, cumming harder than you think you ever have. Din’s romantic, passionate, and dare you say emotional. That being said, you can count on maybe two hands the amount of times he’s ever said the words “I love you.” A few more in mando’a, but the words “I love you,” have struggled to be said. You’ve never not felt them, he says it in ways so specific to him, but the raw emotion in his voice, the way it cracks a bit at the words “so much,” has you cumming hard.

He responds immediately, and you feel him quicken and then falter, as he cums deep inside you. There’s a moment, a breath, where the two of you bask in one another, in the heat of the moment, before he pulls away and out of you.

You’re happy to flop down onto the bed, and a look over your shoulder shows you Din in the tiny fresher attached to the bedroom, running a towel under the warm water of the sink and returning to run it along your folds. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade before tossing the towel in the laundry and climbing in bed, moving to sit on top of you.

“You’re gonna suffocate me,” you grumble, trapped beneath his weight.

“Are you calling me heavy?”

“Yes.”

He laughs, uninhibitedly, and you wonder what he’s doing before you smell the familiar, floral aroma of your body oil, and feel his hands rub along your back. You happily melt into him, mumbling, “this was a pretty good gift, right?”

He says nothing, but runs a ticklish touch across your ribs, so you know he agrees. You lay there, happy to be molded by him, and bask in the warm silence of the room. After a moment, he speaks up, quietly but assuredly.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

Your breath catches from his words and the well timed push on your ribs, but you do your best to shift beneath him, and catch a glimpse of his brown eyes, illuminated in the warm candle light.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid PREVIEW

As I promised, a preview excerpt of my Charpim fanfic which will drop May 20th! (^o^) Also after reading the fic, PLEASE give me your feedback in the replies/reblogs, Thank you! 💗💛

Charlie couldn’t sleep on nights like this when the moon was big and bright, something about it made him want to stand outside by the ocean, drink from his flask and play his ocarina. As he played his beloved instrument he fondly recalled a childhood memory of his own when he was about 6 or 7, wearing a cape and an old hat Mr. Boss wore while armed with a little wooden sword, gallivanting around the beach while loudly-and-proudly proclaiming he was King of the Pirates. Little Charlie didn’t have much friends at that time but what he would do was based on one of Mr. Boss’ bedtime stories: writing mercritter runes in the sand and coming back later to see the response. Charlie did exactly that and eagerly waited for the response while distracting himself best he could fighting imaginary monsters and bad guys. Lo and behold Charlie always got a response, while in hindsight Charlie figured it could have been possible that someone, perhaps even Mr. Boss was playing along writing the responses in runes, he couldn’t shake off the magical sensation he got from the afternoon ritual. If it really was a mercritter responding to him this whole time he’d be over the moon.

......

Alan followed Glep and Pim back to the grotto and was astonished at all the "land things" Pim secretly acquired and hidden away for so long, how did he manage to hide it all for so long without Amy tattling on him for kicks? He hid behind a pair of slightly-cracked goggles and inspected upon the mischievous twosome. Pim was combing his hair with a "dinglehopper" as Glep played with a golden bangle, the latter noticed the bittersweet-sad expression on Pim's face and asked: "Yaskawaboyo? (You okay man)?" Alan wondered if Pim was starting to get homesick, (un)surprisingly that wasn't the exact reason why the usually excited mercritter was so somber despite freeing himself. "...Maybe he's right, what if there is something wrong with me?" said Pim, who then seconds after shook his head in disgust at his father's hatred of the surface getting to him. "I just don't see why a world that makes such wonderful things could be so bad?" Pim felt strong and long-bottled up emotions gushing out, he stimmed a little bit by twirling the dinglehopper but that wouldn't do. Whenever Pim had to share his feelings he would sing and dance it all way much to the annoyance of his siblings, but after a period of masking, Pim had to share exactly how he felt.

"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the boy...the boy who has everything?" Pim gasped in excitement and opened his arms wide while slowly spinning, "Look at this trove, treasures untold, how many wonders can one cavern hold?" quickly turning to Glep with his hands on his hips and sashay-ing with his hair swaying in the water, "Sure! He's got everythiiing~!" Pim swam around observing his collection with Glep following as he continued:

I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty...I've got whozits and whatzits galore~"

Opening up a mustache-care box, jokingly offering to Glep: "You want thingamabobs? I've got twenty!" The two shared a little laugh before Pim solemnly closed it. "But who cares? No big deal....." Looking upwards, those longing words sweetly slipped out of his lips: "I want moooooore~"

"I wanna be where the people are-" Pim gently held Glep's fins and twirled around, "I wanna see, wanna see them dancin'~ Walking around on those.... what do you call 'em? Oh!" He playfully teased Glep's fins as the guppy squeaked. "Feet!"

Alan thought to himself: "This is the most elaborate venting I ever witnessed."

"Flippin' your fins, you don't get too far Legs are required for jumping, dancing..." Pim swayed his hips emulating how one with legs can walk on ground: "Strolling along down a... what's that word again?"

Glep playfully answered: "Skeewaboyo (Street)!" Pim smiled and swam up dramatically above where the light was shining through the grotto: "Up where they waaaalk, up where they ruuuun...up where they stay all day in the suuuuun!! Wanderin' free, wish I could be.... Part of that wooooorld~" Continuing with his acrobatics, "What would I give? If I could liiiive out of these waaaaters? What would I pay to spend a daaaay-" He sunk down and rolled around with a big smile on his face imagining what would it be like, in his own words: "-warm oooon the saaaand?" He then turned on his stomach with a humorously pouty look, "Bet'cha on land they understand, bet they don't...reprimand their soooons~" Pim almost relucantly called himself one of King Pimling's daughters up until realizing he wasn't in Meeplantica anymore, he then smiled while gazing upwards, "Bright young men, sick of swimmin'..." He lifted himself up again with a more hopeful and triumphant demeanor: "Ready to staaaaaaand AAAAAAND-" Observing a gilded storybook with a childlike energy he flipped around the pretty illustrations, "Ready to know what the people know! Ask 'em my questions and get some answers!" He came across one such illustration depicting Prince Charming and Fair Maiden cozening up by the fireplace, holding it up and longingly placing his stubby pink fingers on the painted flame, "What's a fire and why does it...What's the word?" He closed the book and held it to his chest, holding his head back and belting out: "Buuuuurn!!" Pim let go of the book, spinning upwards once again and reaching out to the light: "When's it my tuuuurn? Wouldn't I looooove, love to explore that shore up aaaaaabooooooove?" His octave raised at that last word he sang out...then his whimsy melted into wistful melancholy, for there wasn't any way he could achieve his lifelong dream, so he sank back down with a heavy heart..."Out of the sea....wish I could be...." As Glep sadly witnessed Pim floating back down on the sandy ground, he couldn't help but look back up at the light one more time: "Part of that....woooooorld..."

[miquella-everywhere]

the only way to fix the DLC:turn it into monty python, example:

Tarnished: I am your elden lord!

Thioller: Well, I didn't vote for you.

Tarnished: You don't vote for elden lords.

Thioller: Well, how did you become elden lord, then?

Tarnished: Queen Marika the eternal...

(follows explanation about elden ring lore and the tarnished)

That is why I am your elden lord!

Ansbach: Listen. Strange women lying in erdtrees distributing rings is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical treehouse ceremony.

Tarnished: Be quiet!

Ansbach: Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some wooden tart threw a ring at you!

Tarnished: Shut up!

Ansbach: I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some golden bint had lobbed a bangle at me, they'd put me away!

Tarnished: Shut up, will you? Shut up! *grabs ansbach

Ansbach: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.

Tarnished: Shut up!

Ansbach: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!

LSHDHSJSHDHSHSGD

This means that Miquella's Light is essentially the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch 😂