Tumgik
#devious tales
deviacon · 6 months
Text
Happy Friday the 13th!
To celebrate, why not pick up a copy of my new horror anthology: Devious Tales, A Collection of Delightfully Dreadful & Demented Stories.
If you’re lucky or sharp, you might even uncover a secret or two hidden within its pages. Go ahead, it won’t bite….
Tumblr media
1 note · View note
Text
“Killer no what are you doing stop!”
“Dust no why are you joining in!? Horror no!!”
“Error!? Nightmare!?! Wait Ink!?!?”
“And Cross!? And my boy Epic!? Why!!?”
“Guys guys stop!! Guys!! Your killing the wrong Caesar!!”
“Hes over there!!”
Epic Gaster says as he points over to Xgaster who’s dressed as Julius Caesar oblivious to whats about to happen to him.
52 notes · View notes
nukkibunni · 4 months
Text
i just showed my friend Grab but look at these tiny lads :-D
Tumblr media Tumblr media
more goofy lore in tags but: these two started in separate farms and met while both slipping off wagons that were midway to processing plants. neither got along with their.. nutty peers. they fashioned clothes of scraps outside cottages and tailor businesses to feel more human. hazel is fucking insane but kinda stupid and mondo is just nervous but very intellectual. more to come, maybe
8 notes · View notes
Text
If someone ever wants to talk about any of the fandoms in the tangs, feel free to send me a message! Im open at all times
44 notes · View notes
pyxscythe · 7 months
Note
Do you think the art of Mischef applies to lincu cause of God of art thing and do you think with it that he would use it to prank the other gods?
Oh definitely
1 note · View note
roseunspindle · 11 months
Text
TBR for June 2023
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Re-reading (also no I’m not a terf, I just like Harry Potter, reading this when I was a kid didn’t make me a satanist just because the church said so and doesn’t mean I agree with JK and her horrible statements now.)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
*tried reading this before but Genji himself kept annoying me, so here I go again. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Also still reading Frankenstein Weekly (very behind), Dracula Daily, and Whale Weekly
0 notes
thefreakandthehair · 11 months
Text
@steddie-week, day 3: discover.
When Steve is five years old, his mom catches him sneaking cookies before dinner. 
The jar is set up on top of the refrigerator, porcelain white in the shape of a teddy bear, and Steve isn’t supposed to be able to reach it. Unfortunately for the Harrington’s, their son is athletic and agile even as a child so of course, he discovers that if he slides a chair over to the counter, he can climb onto the beige laminate and reach the jar on his tippy toes. The head of the bear is removed easily, a cookie (or two) are snatched, and no one is the wiser. His devious heist comes to a halt one night after tee-ball practice when he thinks that his mom is in the shower. Steve ends up being caught with his hand literally in the cookie jar. 
It’s a story his mom tells at dinner parties and family gatherings throughout his childhood, over and over with the same details. Steve hears it enough to visualize what his face must’ve looked like— wide eyes, mouth ajar, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline, cheeks and ears turning pink. 
A few months into (finally) dating Eddie Munson, Steve finds his boyfriend standing in the living room mere feet from where Steve had tried to steal those cookies years ago wearing what he imagines is the exact same expression.
There’s no teddy bear-shaped cookie jar, but Eddie certainly looks caught: caught in a moment of jock euphoria, that is. 
When Steve gets home from his trip to Chicago with Robin a day early, he decides to surprise Eddie rather than call ahead and it may be the best decision he’s made in quite some time because Steve recognizes this sight intimately. 
Eddie’s in the middle of the room, bobbing around in front of the television with his hands threading through his hair and tugging in frustration as he yells things like:
“Are your blades dipped in fucking butter?”  “The puck goes in the net!”  "You can't shoot for shit, just like you can't grow a decent mustache, huh?" “Your job is to use your big ass body to stop the teensy tiny puck from getting around you and that’s a Hell of a lot easier if you stay in the fucking crease!” 
He stands in the doorway in shocked silence, watching in bemused wonder. Even in his crouched position, even as he scuttles from side to side with a phantom hockey stick in his hands with the only light in the room coming from the television screen, he's beautiful.
How long has this been going on though? In the years of friendship that eventually led to their relationship, Steve’s never known Eddie to give a single shit about any sort of organized sport that didn’t involve Steve specifically running around in what Eddie calls his "utterly obscene shorts." 
Hockey’s never been mentioned, not once, but Eddie knows too much to have randomly picked it up in just the two days Steve’s been gone. A ripple of something that feels like guilt washes over him, unsure of what he’s done to make Eddie feel like he needs to hide this from him. 
Long moments pass and Steve continues to go unnoticed when the game rolls into overtime. 
“I can’t take much more of this, Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie moans, his hands falling to his knees as he hunches over. 
Commentators flash up on the screen and Steve supposes intermission is as good a time as any to interject. 
“Would some company help?” 
Eddie whips to the right and there it is: wide eyes, mouth ajar, raised eyebrows, flaring nostrils, and the tell-tale darkening of Eddie’s cheeks. Steve only assumes his ears follow suit— they usually do when he’s flustered but Eddie’s hair blocks the view. His hand flies to his chest, startled on top of it all. 
The Bruins are going into overtime and his deepest, darkest secret was just unceremoniously discovered. 
It’s been a rough day. 
Steve just smiles and crosses the threshold into the room, standing next to his boyfriend who looks like all of the air has been vacuumed from his lungs. 
“You— you weren’t supposed to be home yet! You scared the shit of me, man!” 
“I was trying to surprise you but uh, joke’s on me I guess. Hockey, huh?” Steve gestures at the television with his chin. “Makes sense. It’s fuckin' lawless.” 
Eddie’s features settle into something less abashed and more defensive, his eyebrows knitting together and his head tilting to one side just a hair. 
“What makes sense? There was just nothing else on. It’s not a crime to flip through the channels, Steve.”
His lies are weak, and even under the best circumstances, the bar for Eddie’s ability to lie is on the floor so that's saying a lot. 
“It’s not, no. If it was, you’d probably be doing it,” he teases, nudging their shoulders together. “Besides, you wouldn’t know what the fuck a crease is if you were just casually flipping through.” 
“Wait, wait, shit. How long were you standing there?” 
“Long enough to find out you’ve been holding out on me, Munson.” Steve twists to face Eddie, pointing at the television. “We could’ve been going to games, screaming insults, calling plays together this whole time!”
Eddie groans, titling his head back to look at the ceiling. It’s been a long, long couple of days because even now, Steve can’t stop from staring at the expanse of Eddie’s throat, knowing exactly which spots make him groan for entirely different reasons. 
“Okay, fine. You caught me,” Eddie admits, still staring at the ceiling but turning his body away from Steve and waving his arms in defeat. “I’m a fraud. A hypocrite. I enjoy a sport. You cannot imagine how much it pains me to say this out loud.” 
“Ah, so we’re doing the dramatic thing about this?” Steve mutters, shaking his head. “Eddie, you’re allowed to like things. You know that, right? You liking a sport doesn’t, I don’t know, make you any less metal or whatever. Least I don’t think so.” 
Eddie drops his arms and spins around. “Steve, Stevie, my dear sweet sunshine, I’m not sure if you remember this but I’ve made quite a name and reputation for myself in abject hatred of mainstream… everything. My credibility is destroyed.”
Steve barely chokes back his laughter. Eddie’s sounding and acting more like his Eddie, something equally as endearing as it is ridiculous. He reaches out and pulls Eddie to sit next to him on the couch, not missing the way Eddie glances at the screen to make sure he’s not missing the start of overtime. 
“You know,” Steve starts before making air quotes, “a wise brat once told me that when you finish high school, it’s time to move on from primitive concepts like popularity. Or something like that, it was a while ago. Point is, what you staked your claim to in high school doesn’t apply here. You can be weird, and loud, and anti-mainstream, and like hockey. It’s the most violent of popular sports anyways.” 
Eddie blinks at him once, then twice, before narrowing his eyes and drawing his lips into a tight smile. “Was the wise brat Henderson? That sounds like Henderson.”
Steve laughs and leans back against the couch. “Sure was. Don’t tell him I quoted him, he’ll never shut the fuck up about it.” 
“What brought on a lecture about primitive high school concepts from Dustin Henderson?” 
“He was trying to convince me to date Robin when we were spying on what turned out to be evil Russians at Starcourt who had a lab under the mall. It was a whole thing.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly.
Eddie nods slowly. “Right, yeah, the mall that exploded?” 
“Yep. Same one.” 
“Y’know, I should’ve known you had something to do with that.” Eddie smiles at him, wide and bright, and it’s a strange moment for Steve to realize he’s in love. 
He’s wholly, unconditionally, disgustingly in love with Eddie Munson, with every side and facet, with every sparkling edge of the multifaceted prism of him. Steve’s entire body sighs with relief as his heart finally, finally catches up with the rest of him. 
But there’s an overtime period about to start, and unlike this playoff game, Steve knows he has all the time he could ever need to tell him, show him, exactly how he feels. He starts by cheering for a team he knows shit about, and then by rubbing Eddie’s back when he curls over onto his knees after the Devils score the winning shot.
“Hate to break it to ya, Ed, this is very jock behavior. Think there might be a little jock in you after all.” He jokes, running his hand from the middle of Eddie’s back to the nape of his neck, circling his thumb gently into the flesh there. 
“No the fuck there isn’t,” he mumbles, sitting up straight and turning devilish smile on Steve. “But I’d like there to be.” 
a very, very happy birthday to @hexiewrites! you know that I couldn't let your birthday pass without writing Eddie as a Bruins fan. and I peppered in some of our and @maxineholtzmann's comments and insults from the playoffs liveblogging on discord. <3 hope you have a phenomenal day!!
1K notes · View notes
eureka-its-zico · 7 months
Text
Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 4
Tumblr media
Ongoing Series
Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  
Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader
Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut
Words: 8.7+
A/N:  This chapter is mostly filler from 1.04-1.05. This chapter also, once again has a POV from Zoro. I kept going through my options of what I could do to possibly give these two idiots more alone time and this was the result. The beginning, and introduction, of Sanji begins right at Chapter 5 and I already have too many ✨ideas ✨ that I know what to do with. Also, I did add in Zoro working out. It’s a brief mention, but I just found it weird he didn’t have any of those scenes (probably for damn good reason). As always, thank you guys for all the love and support. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story🖤 Much Love, Jenn
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Previous Next
Tumblr media
“I don’t know, Doc. You’re starting to look a little pale.”
“And green.”
You’d been hugging the side of this particular railing since you’d sailed out of port. It was your first time ever on a ship and it wasn’t going too great. You’d heard about seasickness and even had sailors come asking for Naan’s Elfroot to chew to stem the tide while they were out at sea. You always thought they were being ridiculous. How bad could it be? 
Well, if your dry heaving was any indication - pretty bad. Of course, Zoro just had to make it worse. 
You glanced up from looking at the water that was gently tapping the side of the boat to the growing bane of your existence. One hand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans while the other rested on the hilt of his swords. He looked effortlessly cool as he watched you with - was that a smirk? 
He’d changed into a yellow shirt with fine detailing of gray lines running horizontally and vertically, which matched perfectly with his gray pants. 
Zoro was more of a fashionista than he’d let on. 
“It’s just the reflection of your hair,” you shot back at him. 
You could feel the next wave of nausea thrashing around in your stomach and you prayed you could keep it down. You were going to lose more cool points if you hurled again. Zoro squinted over the sun's rays to regard your current state. He must have been able to tell you were 0.2 seconds from hurling because, instead of replying, he simply twirled his finger indicating for you to turn around. 
You did as he instructed, but made sure to follow it up with a middle finger salute. 
“Man, you two always like this? You just met.” Usopp asked. 
Usopp tried doing the dotting friend routine by patting you a few times, awkwardly, on your back. It felt more like he was trying to get a burp out of you than soothe you. 
“It’s because they like each other.”
Nami pranced out of the galley and chose violence. It only took both you and Zoro to register her words before you both shouted: 
“I don’t like her.”
“I hate him!”
Nami wrapped her arms around herself as she looked you both over. A devious smile tilting the edges of her mouth and you had to look away before it turned into the shit eating grin you’d come to expect. 
“I’m sure you both do,” she teased. 
You wanted to prove to her that you meant it. Zoro would be the last person you would say you liked, like- like that. The man was literally the biggest pain in the ass you’d ever met. 
“Usopp,” you croaked, “can you get my bag, please.”
“I’m on it, Doc.”
At the sound of his feet hitting the deck, a groan of discomfort resonated in your chest. How could anyone think that sailing was fun? This felt like the absolute worst. 
When you first entered the Going Merry you couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. You’d heard Usopp tell you stories since he cleaned it everyday. It was as finely crafted as he’d described, and the white ashwood against the walnut was a stark contrast but complemented each other beautifully. There wasn’t another ship like the Going Merry and a one-of-a-kind ship should belong to someone as extraordinary as Luffy.
The minute you’d cast off into the giant blue you’d almost panicked. What if this was a mistake? You’d never been out in open water before nor had you ever left Syrup village. This could either be one of the greatest adventures of your life or a disaster. The only thing that kept you from flinging yourself over the side and swimming back was when you’d walked the stern and the glint of the sun shone down on the water. 
The sun’s rays illuminated the water like light reflecting off a crystal glass. One minute it was the deepest blue. The color was solid enough that your reflection was easy to see and in a matter of seconds after a ray of light touched its water, it took on a cornflower hue that made the water translucent. 
You’d been able to admire it for all of three seconds before you were embarrassing yourself over the port bow. 
“I’m back, Doc,” Usopp spoke softly as he placed a soft hand on your shoulder. He lightly tapped the bag against your hands to try and coax you to grab it. “Do you need me to get you water or anything?”
“Water is not going to help. It’ll make it worse.” 
You thought he was trying just to be his usual monotoned “Hi, I’m Zoro and I could care less,” self, but when you finally peeled your forehead off your forearm and looked at him he wasn’t even looking at either of you. He was curled up, like a lazy cat, against a couple of crates with his eyes closed and faced tilted towards the sun. With his hands infamously stuffed inside his pockets. 
“It would?”
You nodded your head only once in recognition before you started searching through your bag. Your hands started scrambling inside it a soft, “No,no,” building into a frenzy before you stopped searching.
“I’m guessing your magic little root isn’t in there.”
Zoro was still sitting without a care while you felt like you wanted to throw yourself overboard. 
“No. It isn’t.”
Mental note: Ask Luffy to stop at Irkhaven Isle to get supplies. 
Suddenly, Zoro stood in one graceful motion and walked off towards the galley. 
Ass. 
You turned back to the Going Merry’s railing and held on tight. Your stomach felt like you’d swallowed glass and got punched, it was so empty. Another groan was building in your chest when a cold bottle touched the back of your arm. 
The coolness to your skin sent a yelp of surprise from you, and sent you whirling to the presence beside you. Zoro was leaning back against the railing, looking as calm as ever, with a beer extended out between you. 
“Isn’t it a little bit too early to be drinking?” 
He rolled his eyes as he switched positions. He was now mimicking your current position against the rail but looked effortless and was still holding that damn beer out to you. 
“It’s for you.”
“For me? Zoro, I don’t think now is the time to be drinking-“
“Just drink it,” he growled, an obvious annoyance replacing his earlier calm. 
What hell, what was a beer going to do? At most, it would at least give your stomach something to actually throw up instead of dry heaving yourself into a six pack. 
You reached out and took it from him. Zoro continued to watch you as you placed the bottle to your lips, waiting for you to take a sip. 
“Could I get some privacy here?”
Zoro rolled his eyes but did as you asked looking off into the southside of the ship. You took that moment to take a long pull from the bottle. Surprisingly, it was damn good beer. You waited for the bitter aftertaste to kick in, but found it replaced with the tang of citrus. You immediately took another drink and another. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the middle of the bottle that you noticed the ship had been rocked a few times by the waves and yet…
You went to turn your attention back to Zoro and found him already staring at you. 
I am not blushing. 
You turned quickly to look back out at the ocean with both arms leaning over the railing as you took in the picturesque view. You couldn’t believe beer was making your sea sickness disappear. Out of your peripherals you waited for him to turn away from you. Unable to say it to his face as you played with the label that was peeling off from condensation. 
Alcohol. It was brilliant. You were sure your body was still feeling sick, but the depressant in the beer wasn’t allowing those receptors to acknowledge it. Tilting the bottle at him you asked, “How’d you know this would work.” 
“It’s how I survived all my boat trips. Old guy I’d met aboard my first ship when I was seventeen taught me that trick.” 
“Is that why you have so much booze? Cause you have a weak stomach?” 
Your question came off worse than you intended. You genuinely weren’t trying to insult him. He’d just helped you. Zoro has helped you. 
“No. I just like to drink.” 
His tone was void of all emotion. The little bit he’d given you quickly washed away and you wanted to kick yourself. 
Foot meet mouth. Mouth meets foot. 
You weren’t very good at this. The only friend you’d ever actually had was Usopp. The both of you know the tone of the other and every secret in between. You’d tried to make friends with the other kids in town, but holding up a frog as a friendship gift didn’t seem to go over too well. And on that wonderful trip down memory lane…
You straightened up and took a smaller sip from the beer before you leaned down to pick up your abandoned satchel. 
“Thank you, Zoro.”
The both of you stared at the other until the silence was washed out by the squawking of seagulls and the rush of water. Even now in this weird game of chicken, you knew you would be the first to give. His dark eyes staring straight through you until you felt exposed. You tipped the bottle for good measure and turned on your heel to make your way inside the safety of the kitchen. Your hand clutching the bottle close as your brain tried to make sense of what happened. 
Zoro helped you. He didn’t have too and for all intents and purposes you were surprised he didn’t just let you suffer, but he’d chosen not to. What did that even mean? He was just being friendly. It didn’t mean anything more than that. 
Instead of dwelling on the question, you sat down in the corner booth and took another pull from the bottle. 
——————-
After you finished your first bottle, you found another, and another until you’d ended up blissfully passed out in the booth. You were vaguely aware that Luffy and the crew had come into the galley at some point. The sound of Usopp and Luffy struggling to talk over the other was what forced you out of your nap.
“We all know who the Captain is.”
“It’s me.”
Two voices rang out as one with each ending in a high-pitch of surprise. It was his first day and already Usopp was trying to stir up mutiny on the ship. If you weren’t interested in staying unconscious you were positive you would’ve smiled. 
“Just call me Captain Usopp.”
“We already know I’m the Captain.”
It didn’t surprise you they were still giving out declarations of who was Captain. You waited for it to become a campaign, like when Townsfolk ran for Mayor, but the sound of Nami’s laughter followed by - was that Zoro?! - ended both men’s rant. 
“See, this is what it’s all about,” Luffy’s voice chimed in. “From now it’s going to be smooth sailing.”
He was his usual happy sounding self. You were willing to bet it was infectious, making everyone’s earlier laughter remain in the small creases by their eyes and the raise of their lips. Luffy was indeed a Captain and one of the best kind. 
Enjoying the moment abruptly ended, however, when you caught the sound of a whistle outside. It grew more intense by the second. Whatever it was, was slicing through the air with a force that was audible. You weren’t sure why it took so long for your brain to register that it wasn’t a natural sound. It was rectified, however, when something violently slammed into the Going Merry and sent everything trembling. 
Your back immediately shot up off the cushion of the booth. Eyes open wide as you stumble to your feet watching Nami and Zoro do the same. 
“What in the hell was that?”
“Luffy opening his damn mouth,” Nami replied as you followed behind her. 
You were wondering how Luffy’s mouth could have anything to do with the current sounds coming from outside. Your response died in your throat the minute you got out onto the deck. You followed them to the stern of the ship and finally saw what was waiting for you all was a very large, very metal, Marine vessel trailing behind you. 
All the blood drained from your body and whatever buzz you’d had left over from earlier was now completely gone. 
“It’s the marines! We’re under attack!” 
Nami rushed to the wheel to begin to try evasive maneuvers to get you all out of the way of the oncoming cannonballs. Another shot rang out from the marine vessel and you waited to be struck by steaming metal and found yourself vaguely relieved when it crashed into the ocean a few feet from you. 
“How did they find us?”
“Does it matter? They’re trying to blow us out of the water!”
What the hell were you supposed to do? 
What in the hell could anyone do against being shot at by cannons and a marine vessel that was gaining on your small ship by the second. You could see three figures standing at the bow of the ship, eerily watching as if waiting for something - or someone - to appear. 
Luffy grabbed the telescope and peered through the lens. You all waited for him to give an order and what he said next surprised everyone. 
“Grandpa?”
“Grandpa!”
“Did you just call that guy grandpa?” Zoro asked, his eyes carefully watching Luffy as he glanced through the telescope back at the ship. 
He didn’t answer right away. The sound of another shot being fired made all of you space out from one another. You could feel the tension singing through your nerves. The adrenaline was demanding you to move or do something else besides just hopelessly stand like a damn target. The fight or flight in you erupted to life with one key thought hoarding every inch of clarity besides one: run. 
This time when the cannon came crashing down it came right at the edge of the stern. An eruption of water covering you in a fine mist of water. You didn’t get a chance to decide on what to do when another shot rang out. 
“Hit the deck!” 
Usopp’s scream was frantic enough you didn’t ask why, and did as he instructed and became one with the wood. Seconds later, the sound of speeding metal whizzed by you and smashed into the railing behind sending wood fragments everywhere. 
You couldn’t stop the scream that tore its way from your lips as your body curled in on itself. 
What the hell did I sign up for? 
You could hear the sounds of feet clumsily finding their footing again as everyone began to get up. You wanted to stay where you were, but the sharp sound of Zoro calling you a coward resonated inside your chest. 
You could do this. You could totally hundred-percent do this. 
It was your turn to begin to get up from your place on the stern deck, and just as you moved to your knees someone offered their hand for you to take. Color you shocked when you looked up to find that hand was attached to Zoro. You must have been staring too long because he looked away, hand still out, and grumbled, “You going to keep staring at it or take it?”
Yup, and there was the Zoro you’d grown to know and loathe.
“It just burns you up inside to be so helpful, doesn’t it?”
Your voice oozed with sarcasm as you took his hand - maybe a bit too aggressively - and started to get up. Zoro saw your passive-aggressive hand smack and did you one better. He pulled you quickly to your feet, but that quickness came at the cost of your balance. Your feet couldn’t catch their footing back on the deck and you ended haphazardly colliding into his chest. 
As fast as it happened, it was equally as fast that you both dislocated yourselves from each other.
“Is everybody okay?”
“I think so.” 
“No. Not okay. Not even close to okay.”
“I second, Usopp,” you said. 
You weren’t sure why you raised your hand. It could’ve been you just really needed them to know that no - no, this was definitely not okay. 
Luffy took your concerns with a grain of salt, however, and ran over to the cannon - the only cannon - on deck. You’d only just meet him, but Luffy didn’t strike you as someone who held onto any ill will. So, you were surprised to see the determination burn in his eyes and the scowl to cross his face. 
What did your grandpa do to you? 
If you weren’t mortally in danger of drowning at any minute or being shredded in half by a cannonball, you might have asked. 
“Usopp! Fire back at them!”
“Or how about we sail away as fast as we can?”
“I like that idea, actually,” you chimed in, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “That’s a solid plan if I ever heard one, Usopp.”
“Run from the marines?” 
Luffy looked between the three of you. He couldn’t believe that Usopp, Nami, and you were apparently so quick to not want to put up much of a fight. You did enjoy not being a sea decoration. 
“No. Never! Nami trim the…sail thing. Let’s sink their ship!”
“Wait, what? Are you crazy?”
You had to back up to stand next to Zoro as Luffy waved for Usopp to join him on the stern. The two of them grabbed a hold of the cannon to bring it towards an opening in the back. 
“Let’s sink their ship.” 
“Luffy, we don’t have time for this!” Nami interjected, but Luffy wasn’t listening. “They’re going to come up alongside us! If they do, we are finished.”
“Our odds keep sounding better and better,” you mumbled as you made your way over to Nami. 
“You are our Navigator. Do something.” 
Nami let out a groan before her whole demeanor changed. No longer was she trying to flee or get Luffy to see reason. Suddenly, she turned to Zoro and ordered him to go down and pull the sheet in. He didn’t waste a second before he brushed past you and down the stairs. 
You waited for her to order you to do something, anything, but she must have known it would’ve been like explaining math to a baby. You didn’t even know what she’d even just asked Zoro to do. Apparently, neither did he. 
“Which way is port?” 
A heavy sigh left her as she shouted back, “It’s the left!”
“Have you ever loaded a cannon before?”
“Yeah, yeah I’ve loaded tons of them,” Usopp replied coolly.
You had to give Usopp props. He was literally the master of bullshit and could keep a straight face even though you both knew the only thing he loaded was his imagination. 
“This is just a different model I’ve never seen before.”
“Usopp, you load the cannon in the barrel. Light it and then get the hell out of the way!”
Following Nami’s directions, Usopp rushed forward towards the barrel. You thought he was going to make it when the ball slipped out of his hand and landed with a heavy thud on the deck. You rushed forward to grab it before it rolled down the stairs, but didn’t notice Usopp rushing to join you in the hunt. What neither of you failed to notice was that the vibration from dropping the cannonball dislodged the others. 
In a split second, you and Usopp collided into one another and when you stepped back to stand up your heel caught a ball. You had barely enough seconds to lean yourself forward as you slipped down the stairs, taking each stair with a thud just like the cannonballs. 
Your knees slammed into the edge of one of the stairs, but the balls under your hips kept you slipping. You tried bending your knees to slow your descent only to have them successfully bump every step on the way down. 
“Oh shit, Doc are you okay?” Usopp shouted down after you. 
“I’m fantastic,” you grunted as you came to a stop before the last steps. 
You weren’t trying to remove yourself from the stairs. You could feel the pain in your knees growing with each passing second. You were willing to bet when you stood up, that dull throb that was beginning to resonate under your skin would shoot out like lightning the minute you stood up. Unfortunately, you’d forgotten who was at the bottom of the stairs with you. 
“Are you going to get up anytime soon or do you enjoy just laying there?” 
You were ready to tell Zoro where he could shove his swords when a gruff voice you’d never heard cut over the chaos. 
“Pirate vessel, by order of the marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority.”
You were willing to bet a million berries if that man wasn’t Luffy’s grandpa that wouldn’t even be an offer on any table. Ever. The sound of Zoro’s boots coming closer caused you to peel yourself up just enough before he - did he really just step over you? 
“Oh, you asshole,” you seethed. 
You scrambled to your feet to chase after him when you noticed another cannonball headed straight for the Merry. But where was the sound of the gunpowder? What felt even more unbelievable was what came after. 
Sure, Luffy told you he’d eaten a Devil fruit. He’d told you his body was made of rubber but seeing was believing. You watched as Luffy began to inhale air and his body blew up like a…balloon. Luffy was becoming an actual balloon of skin until the cannonball landed in the center of his stomach. He took the entire impact and flung it back at the marine vessel. One minute, you could hear the return fire whistling through the air. The next, you watched as the crow’s nest above the mast exploded and seconds later it came crashing down. 
Everything grew silent aboard the Merry as you all registered what you’d just witnessed. You were still staring at Luffy and back to the now very much on fire marine ship when Usopp’s surprised laughter cut through the silence. 
“That was amazing! You just saved us!”
“You didn’t tell me you could do that.”
You could feel your own smile slide across your face as the adrenaline began to bleed away. The aftershocks of the thrill of battle - no matter how unsuccessful - left you feeling ready to do it all again. Or take a nap. 
You were joining in on the laughter as you looked back at Nami, and at Usopp who was jumping in excitement with Luffy. You looked over at Zoro and found your earlier excitement drained from your body. Sure, you’d seen him smirk and look like the grumpy cat who ate the canary, but you’d never seen him smile. 
Sometime during the battle the wind had tussled up his hair making him appear like he’d just woken from a nap. It made him softer, less broody, and the grin that lit up his face actually reached his eyes and scrunched his nose. 
It was safer in the village. 
You wanted to say the thought was because of what had just happened. Even as Luffy ordered Nami to get you out of the area, you knew it wasn’t because of the danger. Hell, as much as it was a mess of a first battle, the adrenaline of it all was demanding for a release. Maybe you’d be able to use that as an excuse for why your heart was beating so wildly as you watch Zoro run a hand through his hair. 
The ship suddenly felt too constricting. It didn’t allow enough space between you and the swordsman who resided on this ship. You tried to shake your head clear of all those thoughts and turned to run after Luffy. You called his name as you carefully took the stairs down after him. 
“Something wrong, Doc?”
“No, no,” you waved him off. “I just - I wanted to ask a favor.”
“You can ask me for anything.”
You weren’t sure if you would ever get over how genuine Luffy was. Every word he said to you he meant it. You could probably tell him you needed the sun, and whether physically attainable or not, you knew Luffy would try his absolute best to bring it to you. 
Because Luffy was just that kind of Captain. 
“Would it be a bother if we stopped at an island? I’m in need of some supplies.”
———————
Luffy didn’t hesitate to say yes to your request to stop at Irkhaven. It only took you all of four seconds to explain what it was, where it was, and why you needed to go before he sent you to Nami to give her the coordinates. While you’d never physically gone with Naan to harvest the ingredients you’d grown up using, she made sure to tell you often how to get there. 
Just in case the day came she couldn’t. 
What you hadn’t expected as you walked through fields of lavender was to have Zoro trailing behind you. 
“How much longer are we going to be out here?”
“Until I have enough of everything to last us a while,” you called over your shoulder. 
You didn’t need to look behind you to know Zoro was shooting daggers into the back of your skull. While he hadn’t been happy being volunteered to go with you onto the island, he hadn’t argued with Luffy either. 
You stopped midway out of the lavender fields and took out your small knife to begin cutting gently through the stems. After you had a good enough bundle, you sheathed the knife back in its place on your satchel where you reached inside to grab a pre-cut piece of string. 
You could still feel Zoro watching you, as you tied the lavender together in a tight bundle. 
“I wasn’t aware picking flowers was life-saving medicine.” 
This time you did look over at him. Zoro, the strong and proud pirate hunter. The demon, Luffy said was his nickname. Looking at Zoro now, even in an endless field of lavender, he resonated power. You held no doubt he had earned such an intimidating name through grit and blood-soaked swords. 
He looked out of place next to you in a place meant for healing and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was more what he projected than who he was. While Luffy told you happily about the scary parts of Zoro (which Luffy by no means actually saw as scary) he’d also mentioned Zoro never went without a specific sword.
Remembering Luffy’s words, your eyes quickly darted down to the white-sheathed katana. If you had to put money on it, that was the one that held a deeper meaning to him. It was the one he clutched the tightest and his hand fell on absentmindedly. 
Once you knew the bundle was secure, you playfully poked it in his direction. 
“It does heal. It calms the mind and spirit. It creates restful sleep.”
“It stinks.” 
“You are absolutely impossible,” you grumbled, your eyes rolling as you turned away from him. 
You placed the bundle inside your satchel and started forward. You didn’t need to look back to know that Zoro would be behind you. This time you were leading him towards an eyeline of trees you’d spotted a few feet back. They looked promising to hold green chiretta. 
“So, why did Luffy send you with me?”
You came out first from the field and onto a path that was being taken over by the vegetation. 
“Because you don’t know how to protect yourself.”
“I can too.”
“A pot doesn’t count.”
You spun on your heels, satchel swinging, and caught it with your forearm just before it swung into your hip. You were pleased to see the unexpected action had caught him by surprise. Not the typical surprise that Usopp, or others, gave where it might be exaggerated or a gasp and step back. No, Zoro’s was the briefest flinch in the corner of his eyes. Blink and you would’ve missed it. 
“Hey, that pot kicked ass.”
“You got lucky.”
“Okay, Mosshead, then what do you call this?”
You lightly tapped your cheek to indicate the very noticeable bruise that was just beginning to fade from his left cheek. 
“I call that luck.”
You let out a huff as you turned and faced forward. Leading him towards where you needed to go and reminding yourself that you needed to focus on the task at hand. Not Zoro. 
“You carry a knife with you but you don’t use it.”
He stated it as a fact. Not a question. Zoro already knew that it wasn’t used for self-defense. 
“I use it to treat and clean infected wounds and forage for ingredients.”
“But not for self-defense.”
You found yourself whirling on him again and this time he was prepared. His hand resting on the edge of his sword and hand infamously tucked inside his pocket. 
“I’m a doctor, Zoro. I follow Naan’s oath to never do harm to anyone-“
“And what if to help someone - yourself - it meant that you had to take a life to save theirs?”
He’d taken a step towards you. His whole body radiated with an intensity you hadn’t been prepared for. You could feel your muscles straining to stay in place; to not retreat. Zoro had closed what space you’d had between the two of you until all he’d left were a few measly inches. 
“I try not to let it come to that.”
“You don’t always get to decide like that, it's not how the world works. You keep thinking like that and you’re going to be a liability.”
Your eyes narrowed in on him and you felt yourself get on your tippy toes without thinking. Your index finger pressed into his stupidly hard chest as you looked up at him. 
“It is not a liability to give a shit about people, Zoro. To care about who they are with their own wants and dreams. What makes someone a liability is not knowing who is worth that effort and who isn’t.” 
You dropped back down onto your heels and turned to stomp your way into the trees. What did he know? So, you weren’t exactly a swordsman or incredibly stretchy, and while Usopp wasn’t necessarily the bravest man on the planet he was a damn fine shot. Nami could kick ass and was the best navigator. What did you bring to the table? 
No. You wouldn’t let him make you think that way. 
You hadn’t realized you’d gone farther than intended into the forest of trees until you noticed not only the green chiterra growing all over the sides of them, but also what looked like gold cap mushrooms. One that you knew to be poisonous. 
You put it in the back of your mind. You weren’t here to get things to harm people. That wasn’t who you were and you wouldn’t let this newfound journey, or anyone, change that. You unsheathed your knife from your satchel and started carefully scraping off the moss from the bark of the tree. 
“I could train you.”
Those four words stopped you mid-scrap. It had been roughly a few minutes - only a few - since you’d both been silent. You expected the rest of your time out here collecting ingredients to go relatively dull with you both pouting in your respective corners. Out of everything you could’ve expected, those four words were most definitely not it. 
“Huh?”
God, you really needed to get it together. 
Zoro grunted out a, “Fuck me,” before he gave you his full attention. 
“I said I could train you. If you want.”
Was it possible that Zoro, the demon pirate hunter, was nervous? You couldn’t believe it, and for that exact reason you didn’t think twice about it. However, you couldn’t pass up the chance to tease him. Just a little. 
“Did Roronoa Zoro - the demon pirate hunter - just offer to teach me how to kick ass?”
This whole entire trip was turning into one unexpected thing after another. The last thing you would’ve thought you would earn from your teasing was a grimace, maybe a smirk if you were lucky. Instead, your words generated an actual smile from the demon himself and you were devastated. 
“I thought you said you never heard of me?”
Oh, right. He was talking and he needed you to word back. Right. You could do that. 
“Luffy,” your voice cracked on your captain's name and you pretended to cough to clear your throat. “Luffy was telling me about the first time you guys met. It was truly a riveting moment.” 
“Okay, let’s back up,” you began, your fingers motioning like a wheel. You’d been sitting with Luffy at the table eating breakfast. What had come over you to ask about how he met Zoro was still currently pending investigation. Luckily for you, Luffy wasn’t going to question you on why you wanted to know. “Did you just say you met him tied up inside the marine yard?”  “He’d given himself up. Never told me exactly why he’d done that actually.” Luffy was perplexed for all of a millisecond before he sank his teeth back into the dry meat in his hand.  “Oh, well I’m sure he was happy you let him down.” “Actually, he told me to get lost.”  Yup, you were choking on a piece of toast. Luffy just stated it like it was useless information. Not that his first mate didn’t tell him to essentially fuck off during their first meeting.  “He told you to get lost?” “Yeah, he did.” “So, why did you even bother staying there? You could’ve just left.” A smile began to grow on his lips. It wasn’t his usual radiant one that could rival the sun, but a thoughtful one. It told you the memory of meeting Zoro meant something special to Luffy, and it made you regard the interaction a little less harshly.  “I couldn’t just leave him there. Not when he has a dream to fulfill.” While you were still debating on whether Luffy was a real person, there wasn’t any denying that he searched for the good in people. Whatever it was he’d seen in Zoro told Luffy he was a good guy.  “So,” you drawled out the o, “he told you to get lost and for some reason your brain heard those words as, ‘follow your dreams’.” “He isn’t a bad guy, Doc. I know Zoro is more than just a pirate hunter with a scary nickname. He is someone with a dream, just like you, and I’m going to make sure he reaches it.”
Looking at Zoro now, you could see what Luffy saw in him. Sure, he was quick to anger and even more quick to say shit without thinking it through, but who wasn’t at times? You had experienced first hand the good that lived inside of him. 
He’d helped you when he didn’t have to when you were sick. He shared a part of himself, a small part but still a part, to see who he was underneath all the attitude. While you weren’t in the business of hurting anyone, you debated on whether letting him train you would at least make you useful enough to save other members of your crew - maybe Zoro - if something came up. 
You did hit someone with a pot and punch Zoro in his face. What could learning a few moves going to do? 
“Alright, demon pirate hunter, I’ll consider it.”
—————————
He wanted to throttle Luffy. 
The way you kept looking at him - saying his nickname - was stirring something foreign in his chest. He may not know exactly what it was but he didn’t have too. His body was telling him plainly he should take back his invitation to spend more time alone with you. You were only going to get in the way of his goal. 
All of those made sense why he should retract his invitation and head back to the Merry. And yet…
“If it pumps up your ego, I’ll say it as many times as you like. For a price.” 
You wiggled your eyebrows at him and it was so unexpected Zoro wanted to laugh. His offer to help train you had been in the back of his mind, but when he went to offer it, it’d gone rougher than he’d intended. He hadn’t meant to make you feel bad - to call you a liability.  It wasn’t that he thought you would be an actual liability for Luffy. 
You were a liability for him. 
The way you were looking at him now, the smile on your face, gave him all the warning he needed to know you were a dangerous wildcard. He’d made a promise to Kuina and you felt like the one thing that could keep him from it. 
Whatever the feelings you were stirring in him were something he needed to be wary of. Zoro wasn’t going to have any of it. He made a promise a long time ago and he wasn’t going to let you or anyone else get in the way of him keeping it. 
He was so lost in thought that he wasn’t aware you’d gotten so close. It wasn’t until your fingers slid over his ear, placing something behind it, that he was jolted back into the present. 
“Oh, shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
Your voice was breathy and sweet with your wide eyes looking up at him with something dangerously close to reverence. Close like at the dinner table. Close like when he’d tumbled out of the well and landed on top of you. Zoro still had the way your body felt under him burned into his memory. One he’d tried to erase with the bottles of liquor that now sat empty inside his room. 
His hand moved up to feel what you’d placed behind his ear, and his fingertips were greeted by the soft give of flowers. 
“Did you seriously just put flowers in my hair?”
Your response was maddening. Zoro watched as you brought your hands up to join your shrug, as if he wasn’t standing there, flowers now pinched between his fingers. 
“I think you look cute.”
Cute. 
“Yeah. That’s not me.”
In a show that it wasn’t him, that you and your stupid flower giving were just another nuisance, he opened his fingers and let them fall to the ground. Zoro watched as your eyes that had been brimming with sunshine were darkened by clouds of sadness. Even your earlier giddy step was replaced by slouched shoulders that suddenly looked as if the world weighed heavily on them. 
“Okay.”
Your reply was meek. If he wasn’t straining to hear it he would’ve missed it. You didn’t give him another glance or yell at him for being an ass. That was what he had expected; what he was still waiting for. Zoro had known you for a couple of days and within that time came to learn you were the most maddening person he’d ever met - second to Luffy. This? He didn’t like this. He liked it better when you fought back. When you told him what an asshole he was and when you touched him without thinking. 
Zoro watched as you went back to gently maneuvering your knife under the bark; skilled hands that removed pieces of that weird-looking fungus. You pulled an empty glass from your bag and, with the same gentleness, pushed it past the lip of the bottle to hold it inside. 
Cute. 
That’s what she’d called him. 
I am not cute. I’m the demon pirate hunter, Roronoa Zoro. 
He could feel his jaw flexing at the thought. Cute. Zoro has been called many things in his life, but cute was never one of them. His hand clenched and unclenched on the Wado Ichimonji as if asking - begging - what he should do. 
He couldn’t stay here much longer. Zoro didn’t know what to say and you obviously had no intention of speaking to him anytime soon. 
“Fuck this,” he whispered as he stalked off back out of the trees. 
He made it to the edge of the clearing where the sun fully broke free from the shade of leaves when you called to him. 
“Try not to get lost, Zoro. We both know you’ve got shit directional
skills.” 
He refused to admit he was happy to hear you say something. Even if that something was your usual shit-talking. Zoro grunted as a reply and quickly went back to walking out of the clearing when something - small and pure white - caught his eye out of his peripherals. 
It was huddled against the bark of a tree. Its petals were open and stark against the darkness. It took him a moment to recognize those white petals. What he found amusing was how the flower always seemed to be carrying its own weight on its shoulders; the neck of it dropping down like it’d just received devastating news. Zoro didn’t know why he gently plucked it from its resting spot. He couldn’t explain why after that he turned to head back in your direction. 
Zoro was trying to get away from you and here he was bringing a fucking flower back. You turned at his approach, your mouth already forming over some word. You never spoke what it was you wanted to say and you didn’t seem like you wanted to try either. 
Zoro placed the snowdrop behind your ear. Perfectly placing it to where the hanging bulb hugged the top of your ear to hang against your hair. 
“You left to go find flowers?”
Zoro shook his head. He stepped back just enough to see how it looked. He was a dumbass for doing this. 
“No, I was going to head back to the ship-“
“Figures-“
“When I saw this snowdrop by itself,” Zoro continued over you. “It made me think of you.”
“That feels oddly specific.”
He didn’t like how you were looking at him. More accurately, he didn’t like how you looking at him was making him feel. 
“It’s a snowdrop. They’re one of the most delicate flowers in the world.”
There it was. The darkening of those previous clouds now cracked to life with the spark of your anger. Zoro had to admit, he enjoyed getting you all riled up. What he wouldn’t tell you, is because they only grew at certain times and usually in the snow, it made them one of the most resilient flowers because they could grow under any conditions. 
“Are you calling me delicate?”
A huff left him as his eyes rolled up into the treeline. 
“I was trying to apologize earlier.”
“Oh.”
You’d started all that storm building just to deflate but also- 
“You sure have a way with words,” he teased. 
“My bedside manner is not the best, I’ll admit. I once told a dying man a joke about a pirate and marine having an entanglement. Naan said it probably wasn’t the most appropriate time.”
For some reason, Zoro could picture it. A man dying and you, being your nervous self, trying to make him laugh to ease his passing. The thought of it alone made a smile curl at his lips, and he tried to gently shake it away. To look at anything else but you. 
“What do I gotta do to hear one of these world-famous Doc jokes?”
He waited until his face was neutral to look back at you. Both hands rested on his swords as he watched you fill the bottle to the brim and place it securely inside your satchel. 
“For that kind of service? You have to be dying.”
“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
You were a pain in the ass. A pain in his ass. From the moment he met you until now and probably would continue to be. A pain that made him think of things outside of his goal. You made him think past his promise. Who was he if he didn’t keep it? He should’ve never offered to train you or willingly spend more time with you. He was going to have to take it back. It didn’t matter if it hurt your feelings or made you hate him. Maybe that’s what he needed to do to make you hate him-
“What are you doing?”
Zoro prayed that his face was devoid of any emotion. The panic that bloomed in his chest didn’t spread to where you could see. You’d placed your hand over your chest in a way Zoro knew too well. 
“I,” it was the first time Zoro ever heard your full name. “Promise to be the biggest pain in your - Roronoa Zoro’s ass - from now until whenever.”
For the second time, his hand was clutching onto the Wado Ichimonji today. While you spoke, Zoro could swear he saw flashes of Kuina standing behind you. The look of disappointment growing on her face. 
“You made a promise.”
Zoro couldn’t bring himself to speak. He couldn’t trust what he would say. So, he simply turned back on his heel and made a beeline back for the edge of the trees. This time when he reached it he didn’t stop. He had to get back to the safety of the ship where he could barricade himself from you behind wooden doors and booze because Zoro could really use a drink.
————————-
It has been two days inside the fog. Two days of Zoro avoiding you like you carried the plague back with you from Irkhaven. 
When you’d made that promise it was only meant to be good fun. You replayed over in your mind to see if you’d said something wrong - done something wrong to warrant the sudden extreme cold shoulder. 
Besides the time you’d been with Nami and Usopp, all of you shared thoughts about the naval battle that had happened and, who could forget, his very real vice-admiral of a grandpa. Who could launch cannonballs like paperweights. After that, Zoro didn’t come around you or close to you.
Sure, you would see him when he lounged on the deck napping like a cat in open spots. Hell, if Zoro wasn’t sleeping he was either drinking or training. You’d catch glimpses of him on the upper deck lifting weights with his arms and, sometimes, his mouth. 
The first time you saw him lifting eighty pounds with his teeth, you had about a thousand questions racing through your mind. If you thought he would answer you if you spoke, you might have asked him. 
You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It shouldn’t have even mattered whether he talked to you or not, but he’d offered to train you. Why bother asking to do something that required his time if he wasn’t willing to give it? These sorts of questions had been your own personal plague since he’d begun to give you the cold shoulder. 
You’d been sitting with your legs hanging out of the side of where the cannonball had blown an unfortunate hole through the Merry’s railing. It killed you to see her so broken; her intricate leafling design ruined all because of what felt like a family spat. Letting out a sigh, you pulled your legs out from over the side with a hand holding onto the rail so you didn’t fall into the sea. 
Once you were securely standing without fear of going overboard, you wrapped the leather cord that secured the pages of your journal around it. You were just finishing up tucking it in when Usopp began to shout, “I see something.” 
How anyone could see anything in this mess was beyond you, but then again Luffy was at the front of the Merry using his nose to guide you guys out of the fog so…yeah. Stranger things could and did happen. 
It was enough to garner your attention and bring you walking up to join the rest of the crew that had assembled. 
“I see nothing,” you stated. 
“I don’t know how anyone could see anything in this soup,” Nami agreed as she stirred the ship in the direction Luffy called. 
“You guys don’t see the red lights? How can you not see them?”
“Because, Usopp, I don't have eyes like an Eagle.”
You could feel the happiness your comment brought him as he continued to point in the direction of said light.
“Just keep your eyes posted right here in the center and you’ll see it, Doc. 
“3 degrees starboard, Nami and keep it straight.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t sit up there Luffy,” you called up to where he sat, legs wide, on the Merry’s headpiece. “What happens if you slip?”
“You're his crew mate. Not his mother. He doesn’t need you coddling him.”
You turned to find Zoro standing a few feet behind Usopp. He wasn’t looking at you but he’d just spoken to you. His first words in two days and it didn’t surprise you in the least they were his usual asshole tone. 
“Oh, so he can speak. What a shocker.” 
Zoro side-eyed you but still refused to acknowledge your presence. The soft bruise that was there two days ago at Irkhaven was all but a faded memory. You were tempted to make it a fresh one. 
“Okay you two let’s focus on-“ Usopp stopped mid-sentence as his eyes scanned over something in the distance. “What’s a baratie?”
You looked where he was and finally saw it. Red neon was bleeding its way into the fog. It was enough to make you forget about Zoro, your lack of clean clothes, or what had happened the last couple of days. It was land. You were finally going to actually put your feet down on something solid that wasn’t just the Merry. 
Nami stirred the Merry in and easily parked it at the next available dock. Immediately, people rushed out to begin tying the ship's ropes to posts to secure it in place. 
“Is it just me or does this look like a restaurant?” 
You meant your question to be open-ended. To allow anyone to answer in case what you were seeing was in fact a floating restaurant in the middle of the ocean. However, you were leaning against the rail next to Nami, with whom you pressed arm and arm. 
“I think it is.”
You were all still staring over the railing when Luffy asked excitedly, “Do you guys know what this means?”
“We stock up on supplies and keep going so the marines can’t find us?”
“We head back to Syrup village where it’s safe?”
“No - let’s go eat!”
You felt the blood drain from your face. You didn’t have much in the way of something to wear at an establishment like this. You were willing to bet you couldn’t just walk in wearing - or smelling - like you all did. You were getting ready to tell Luffy you’d hang back on the ship when you felt a hand gently wrap itself in yours. 
Glancing down at your interwoven hands and back up, you found Nami, her lips together in a soft smile, as she gave you a light tug to follow her. 
“Come on. You can borrow some of my clothes.”
You let out a raspberry, your hand squeezing hers briefly in relief. 
“Nami, you are a lifesaver.”
“That fish better have a bar.”
You weren’t going to say it out loud, but you agreed with Zoro. You were going to need the blissful ignorance of alcohol to make it through a dinner where you possibly ended up sitting next to him. 
---------------
As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are welcome.
--------------
Tag list under the cut. PSA. I have been struggling to add those who have asked. Tumblr is being a real douche and allowing me to tag some and not others. Please let me know if I need to follow you or anything like that to tag you. I want everyone who asked to be tagged to be included. Your name might also have been in here twice that because I am struggling.
@thegreatesttttttttt@katiemrty@sorasolarium@ponyboys-sunsets@flowersgirl02@spilled-coffee-cup@instabull@charleslec-airlines@dixonsbugaboo@amanda08319@moony-artemis@iloveautumn1@yoheyyosup@ghostyycat7@csmbrainrot @selmasemlan
@scarletrosesposts @yeetedandoboi @snixx2088 @blobfishyy @sourairi @nerdiestmothman21 @lynnieereads @zerosmilesahead @swthxrry @lovestruck-art @throwmethroughawindow @heyitz-julia @sabrinadelreyy @illusory-segurity @naomihatake @mrs--imperfect @shabzy1644 @fckwritersblock @glaciuswduo @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @fangeekkk @tfamidoingwithmylife @zaphira-san @kieth-reblogging @alotofrandomfangirling @emelia07 @hyrdr0citi @kagatinkita @sarcastic-sourwolf @ponyboys-sunsets @yoong1c0re @humblereaper21 @frankenstein852 @asteroidshowers @lflores2008 @yunho-leeknow @zaphira-san
@hwabae8 @sseleniaa @skzoolove94 @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @kaykay0315 @geminidas @carlitosainzz @shuujin @sweetstella @blossomedfloweroflove @shiiiii-okayyyy
1K notes · View notes
rebelfell · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Surrender
Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x lesbian!Chrissy Cunningham
When your boyfriend Eddie wants to introduce you to his old friend, you can't help being worried he’s secretly interested in her. As it turns out, he’s not the one you had to worry about.
Part One. Part Two. Part Three.
cw: established relationship, platonic!hc (eddie and chrissy are college besties), jealous/insecure reader, alcohol - nothing too explicit yet because this is mostly establishing and setting up. Time period is modern-ish.
Everyone is aged early 30s. 5k 18+, MDNI
Tumblr media
“Are we sure tonight is the best night?”
You hate the whininess of your own voice as you call out to Eddie from the bathroom. Hearing your petulant question, he promptly appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his head tilted at you and a sweet smile on his lips.
“What’s up, princess? You don’t wanna go?”
He’s already dressed for your night out and, of course, looks perfect. Dark jeans and a black dress shirt, untucked and unbuttoned at the collar to reveal the guitar pick hanging around his neck. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his forearms and tattoos, chunky silver rings catching the light as he drums his fingers on the door jamb. His hair is down and loose around his shoulders, looking hydrated and bouncy from the cream you bought for him after he went through a whole tube of your own. It never made your hair look as good as it did his, anyway.
You, on the other hand, are a mess. Hair falling flat despite being freshly styled. Wearing a flippy-skirted sundress you normally liked for the way it cinched your waist and accentuated your shape, but tonight feels more like a vice you’ll be prone to spill out of. Sweating through your light make-up and struggling to get your winged eyeliner to match—a losing game if there ever was one.
The past ten minutes you’ve done nothing but huff and grunt and sigh at your fruitless efforts, hands only getting more unsteady the more flustered you became.
For weeks, you’ve had these plans to meet up with Eddie’s old friend who was back in Hawkins for a visit. But now, less than half an hour from when you were due to meet them at The Hideout, all your resolve is crumbling. And it’s not so much the thought of going out that has you fledgling, but rather who you’re going to meet.
You’ve heard a lot of stories over the years about Chrissy Cunningham.
You knew she and Eddie had attended the same high-school, along with most of his other closest friends. But unlike the rest, Chrissy and Eddie’s knowledge of each other was mostly peripheral until they wound up at the same small liberal arts college after graduation. 
There were tales of them pulling all-nighters in the library, dominating beer pong and flip-cup tournaments at frat houses, leading epic tee-peeing sprees across campus on Halloween. Somewhere in there was an ex-boyfriend of hers Eddie would refer to as the human incarnate of spoiled milk—evidently this was the same guy who had labeled Eddie as the local demon summoner of their hometown.
“I stole his yearbook and drew a pentagram on the last page. Pretty sure he burned it,” Eddie told you once, lips spread in a devious smile.
In none of these stories had there been mention of anything romantic; nothing even hinted at other than a platonic with a capital “P” friendship. But still, you couldn’t help but wonder. Surely being that close there had to be something more. They were both attractive, clearly got along well. They’d kept in touch all this time, and if she didn’t live so far away you’re sure you would have met her long before now. She sent him postcards from all the varied places she traveled for work, and always signed them with three little x’s.
Sensing your frustration in the way only he can, Eddie quickly closes the distance separating you. He comes to stand behind you with his chest pressed against your back and winds his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder to meet your gaze in the mirror.
“Come on, baby,” he coaxes you gently. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I’m tired and stressed out. Not in good first impression mode.”
You use these meaningless descriptors because you can’t quite articulate the way Chrissy makes you feel without sounding like a big baby. Eddie’s Hawkins High yearbook is basically a shrine to her, plastered with seemingly endless pictures of her cheering and being crowned as queen of something no less than three times. And even in those grainy black and white photos, she’s completely radiant. Meanwhile, all you could find of Eddie was his standard portrait and one shot of him in the club photos with his D&D group, making his favorite devil face.
“Hey,” he coos, low and soft in your ear. “You’re gonna be great. She’s gonna love you as much as I do. Well, almost.”
You huff, unable to fully enjoy the warmth of his breath on your skin, because you’re not exactly worried whether or not Chrissy will like you.
You’re trying not to be needy; trying not to feel so insecure at the prospect of meeting Eddie’s old friend; trying not to compare yourself to someone you’ve never even laid eyes on in person. But it’s so unbelievably difficult. Because as far as you can tell…she’s basically his dream girl.
You’d already quizzed him about it relentlessly, but the urge to rehash it one last time is too strong. Some part of you knows it’s pointless—that there’s nothing he can say to assuage this relentless doubt gnawing at your insides. If there was, he would have said it. And yet…
“So you guys were just friends? You never dated?”
“Nope. Never.”
You frown, despite his answer, chewing on the inside of your lip and staring at the sink to avoid his gaze. He places his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face back up.
“What?” he asks with a smirk. “You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I do,” you groan. “It just doesn’t make sense—you say she was like your best friend, and you guys were doing everything together, and yet somehow you never ever considered, even once, asking out the prettiest, most popular girl from your high-school?”
The slight whine in your voice finally cracks into something resembling a cry. You feel it in your throat the moment it starts to break through and instantly feel the sting of tears welling behind your eyes. Perfect, you think. That’s just what your eyeliner needs.
You hated feeling like you were about to step into one of those horrible rom-com scenarios where two best friends, after years of denying their feelings for one another (or being completely oblivious to them), realize they’ve been madly in love all along. More than likely at the most inopportune moment possible—like right before one of them is about to get married. 
Because it had to really suck being the partner of one of those dumbasses.
And, yeah, maybe you and Eddie weren’t getting married. Although, he had been bringing it up more often and you were almost certain one of your rings had gone missing for a good day and a half before reappearing in your jewelry tray on the dresser. Still, this was probably as bad a time as any for him to discover he was secretly in love with his best friend.
“Did you ever think about dating her?” you ask. “Like were you ever out at a bar or stayed up late after a party talking and just thought to yourself maybe, someday…”
Maybe, someday was the clarion cry of these horrid arrangements. If you had a someday person, you were basically earmarking them in your mind for later and it was only a matter of time before the two of you got together. Someday was this magical time that could be years and years from now or it could be fucking tomorrow. And if it was tomorrow, that made you the one the someday person trounces over on their way to true love. It was going to be your heart that wound up shattered and no one watching in the movie theater would even care.
Eddie starts to sway gently, rocking you with him as he mulls over his answer.
“Honestly? I had, like, a glimmer of a crush on her in high-school, but I barely knew her then. And the more we hung out…it just wasn’t something to pursue.”
“Why not? What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” he says. “We were better as friends.”
Your face sinks into a pout and you make no attempt whatsoever to disguise it. You can’t put your finger on exactly why, but you feel like there has to be more to this story. She’s pretty and thin, funny and exciting, glamorous and worldly, and Eddie just magically never had feelings for her? Never considered her romantically in the slightest? It doesn’t add up.
“It’s not like that, I swear,” Eddie says when he sees you sulking, arms wrapping tighter around you, trying to reassure you with his touch.
Normally, it helps. But not tonight.
“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you admit with another sigh.
His eyes are waiting for yours in the mirror. A pair of deep brown pools as warm and comforting as a freshly poured cup of coffee stare back at you, but fail to have their typically calming effect.
Against your back, you feel Eddie’s chest rise and fall as he takes a steadying breath.
“Well, there kind of is,” he says. “But I swear it’s got nothing to do with that. It’s just not mine to tell. I don’t know if Chrissy wants you to know or if she wants to tell you herself.”
It’s not the worst thing he could have said, but it’s also not, not the worst thing. You groan and bury your face in your hands.
“Maybe I shouldn't go,” you grumble into your palms. 
Staying home suddenly feels like the only solution. Leaving them alone might only hasten the inevitable. But if they were gonna fall in love, you shouldn’t have to sit around to watch.
“No,” Eddie whines, tugging insistently on your wrists to pull your hands from your face. “Don’t say that. Please come? I’m really excited for you two to meet.”
“I’m only gonna be in the way,” you sniffle, unable to look at him. “You guys will be reminiscing all night and I’ll just sit there like a mute idiot.”
Third wheel to your own boyfriend.
His jaw ticks and he clenches it in that way he always does when you talk down about yourself. He doesn’t have time right now to go into just how wrong you are. And he can tell you won’t be receptive to it in your current state. He’ll take care of it later, when he has you pinned beneath him, driving his body into yours, making you gasp and pant and plead until you’ll say whatever he asks—including admitting how fucking perfect you are.
“I want you to meet her because I think you’ll get along.” His breath ghosts across the nape of your neck as he presses his lips to your skin. “Because she’s great…and you’re really great…and I think you’d be great together.”
At last, you swallow the tears rising in your throat and nod. You lift your head and find his pretty doe eyes in the mirror again. Eyes that love you. Eyes that would never compare you to someone else.
Eyes that are only for you.
Tumblr media
You and Eddie walk into The Hideout, your hand held firmly in his. The bouncer and bartender nod at you both in acknowledgment, too inundated with customers for a longer interaction. They knew Eddie well from the many years his band had spent here playing to nearly empty rooms, as well as when he started working as a barback on the weekends to earn some extra cash. And they know you from the number of “dates” you’d spent visiting him during a shift.
Chrissy spots you immediately and throws her hand up in the air, wiggling her fingers excitedly. Her strawberry blonde hair was swept up in a ponytail, soft curls bouncing with her every move. She’s in cream-colored trousers cuffed at the ankles with a wide black belt holding them up so they sit high on her tiny waist. Her top is a sleeveless black turtleneck, cropped to reveal a little sliver of her abdomen. It’s one of those cool-girl outfits that’s so effortlessly trendy and chic it instantly makes you feel overly plain and unassuming in your sundress.
Jesus. Did she have to be that pretty?
She was cute as a goddamn button with big, round eyes and full, cherubic cheeks that only grew as she flashed a smile with enough wattage to power the whole bar. Maybe the entire town. Like in her picture in Eddie’s yearbook, one of her front teeth was a little crooked. Yet somehow it only made her smile, and her by extension, all the more charming.
Every pair of eyes in the room is watching as she scoots out of her seat in the corner booth. With a wide grin, she stretches up on her tiptoes to throw her arms around Eddie’s neck as you and he approach the table she’s secured. He slides his free arm around her waist, wrapping her up in a tight squeeze, but keeps your hand in his the entire time. You can’t say it’s not a relief, having already loosened your grip in anticipation of him dropping it as he went to hug Chrissy.
Only when he steps back from between you does he let it go, placing his palm on your shoulder as he gives Chrissy your name. She beams at you, eyes sparkling even in the dim light of the dive bar. You feel your cheeks pinch and your teeth clench as you force a smile.
“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She reaches out to take your hands in hers and gives them a gentle squeeze. Of course her skin is as soft as velvet. “Gosh, you’re even prettier in person.”
A waft of her perfume hits you, fresh citrus swirling in your nose, and you falter slightly at her words. In person? In person as opposed to what? Your social media was private, as was hers, and neither of you had yet to extend a friend request or so much as a DM.  You only knew her face from Eddie’s yearbook. How did she know yours?
“You need a drink, yeah?” she asks. “I’ll get the first round, my tab is already open.”
Eddie’s hand rubs across the small of your back in a soothing circle. “I’ll get you something,” he says to you softly. “You guys sit.”
Chrissy grins and ushers you into the booth as Eddie heads for the bar. You slide into the center and nod at the pink cocktail garnished with an orange curl that sits in front of her.
“What are you having?”
“A cosmopolitan,” she says. “Not normally my first choice, but Benny makes them so well I always order one when I’m here. He loves to bitch about it, but I know they’re only as good as they are because he drinks them himself.”
She smirks at the bar where the massive, burly bartender is talking animatedly with Eddie as he pours drinks. You can’t help but giggle imagining him sipping Chrissy’s bright pink cocktail.
“I’ve never tried one,” you say. “Is it good?”
“Have some,” she chirps. “Just know it’ll ruin you for all other cosmos.”
Dainty fingers adorned with thin gold rings push the glass towards you and you bring it to your lips for a taste. There’s a little smear of her lip gloss on the rim and the peachy flavor of it mixes with the taste of the drink in your mouth. You let out a little hum of approval as it splashes on your tongue, a perfect balance of sweet and sour.
“Wow, that is good,” you say. “I never would have pegged that as Benny’s drink.”
Chrissy smiles knowingly. Most of the Hideout’s bartenders looked like they shower in scotch and use bourbon as body wash. She leans in close and lowers her voice to a conspiring whisper. 
“He’ll never admit this…but he’s a huge Sex and the City fan. I came in once to pick up a jacket I'd left, and he had it playing on the TV.”
Your eyes go wide at the revelation and you shoot an appraising glance towards the bar. “I feel like he’s a Samantha,” you say with an impish smile.
“Oh, definitely!” Chrissy laughs and then nods in the direction of the bouncer. He’s smaller than Benny, but still woefully intimidating, especially as he’s frowning and turning away a couple of kids with fake IDs at the door. “And Luke acts like a Miranda, but he’s a total Charlotte.”
You both giggle at that and your shoulders brush as you lean together. The warmth of her skin on yours surprises you, but not nearly as much as when she reaches out her hand and lays it gently on your wrist. Her eyes land on your face and you feel your breathing stall as you stare back into them. Deep blue-green like the ocean, framed by her long lashes and accentuated by the pale wash of shadow she’s swept across her lids.
“Your eyes are so pretty,” she says softly. “I can never get wings to match that well.”
“Thanks,” you breathe out, heat rising in your cheeks. “I really like your eyeshadow.”
“Aww, you’re adorable.” Chrissy smiles and her lashes flutter, showing off more of the shimmery powder blue there. “Eddie was right, you’re such a sweetheart.”
Her words ignite a little flicker of excitement that trickles down the back of your neck. You shift slightly in your seat and look down at your lap, hoping she can’t see how it affects you. You tell yourself it’s not her, just her use of your favorite pet name Eddie uses for you. Very different.
The more you talk with Chrissy, the harder it becomes to keep up the animosity you’d been stewing in the past few weeks. She’s just so…nice. In the time it takes for Eddie to get drinks from the crowded bar, you two have already brought out your phones and started cooing over pictures of the other’s cats. She’s in the middle of a story about her fat gray tabby Templeton when Eddie returns carrying his pint of amber colored beer and a rum and ginger for you.
He places your drink down on the table first, but passes his own glass into your waiting hand. You sip his beer and he chuckles at the sour face you make before sliding into the booth next to you and tucking you securely under his arm. 
“Not poisoned,” you tell him, still grimacing. “Just disgusting.”
It’s an old bit, one that goes back almost to your first date. You weren’t a big beer person, but you still liked taking little tastes of the ones ordered by friends on the off chance of finding one you did like. Eddie had then offered you a sip of his and basically beamed at the adorable way your face scrunched at the taste you considered vile. He suggested in a past life you were probably one of those servants who had to sample a king’s wine before he drank.
You had laughed and rolled your eyes, but leaned hard into the joke from then on.
“My liege, no!” you’d exclaim anywhere—at dinner, a bar, one of Steve’s keggers that was masquerading as a barbeque—hand dramatically outstretched, eyes bulging with fear as he paused raising his glass to his lips before descending into a throaty chuckle. It didn’t take long before he got in the habit of handing over his drink without even thinking about it.
Eddie slots easily into the conversation with you and Chrissy. All three of you chatter back and forth about Chrissy’s work, Eddie’s music, your impending thesis. You feel all that apprehension you’d been building up finally retreating and let yourself relax a little. 
And if Chrissy is harboring some ulterior feelings for your boyfriend, she’s either terrible at showing them or incredible at hiding them. She listens raptly to boring stories about all your upgrades to Eddie’s house since moving in, and earnestly asks about your relationship.
“Okay, so you have to tell me everything. How did you guys meet?”
Chrissy sits forward in her seat and sets her elbows on the table, folding her delicate fingers together and resting her chin on them as she looks back and forth between you and Eddie with those sparkling eyes. They’re bright with interest like she literally can’t wait to hear what you’re about to say. If she’s only acting, she’s incredibly gifted. Truly Oscar-winning caliber.
“Oh, jeez,” Eddie groans and covers his face with his hand as he starts to tinge pink. He peeks out at you from between his ringed fingers and a bashful smile curls up the corners of his lips, showing his teeth. “Do we have to?” he asks. “It’s not exactly Romeo & Juliet.”
You nod back at him, flashing a mischievous smile of your own as you sip your drink. Eddie’s hand drops to the table and he sighs, playing up the dramatics you assume for Chrissy’s benefit. She’s eating it up, practically wriggling in her seat like a little puppy waiting for a treat.
“We were…at a strip club,” he says.
“Oh, of course you were!” Chrissy snickers and her eyes dart to you. “Here I was thinking you’re such a good girl and you're secretly a little vixen.”
You shiver instantly and look down at your lap again trying to hide your reaction. Her eyes flit across your body and that familiar little thrill runs up your spine, stirring something inside of you that makes you tingle all over. You let yourself imagine, if only for a moment, maybe you are the little vixen she’s imagining. Ridiculous a thought as that may be, it makes you feel extra bold.
“Hardly,” you laugh. “I was in town for my sister’s wedding. I’d been here like a week already and I was staying with her through to the ceremony to help coordinate and stuff. We went to the club for her bachelorette party, but I was essentially their chaperone. Or maybe more like a wrangler for all her friends? It was like herding cats. Except the cats were drunk. Drunk and in heels.”
The most boring possible reason to be at a strip club? Check. Chrissy doesn’t seem to judge, though. If anything, she tilts her head a bit and smiles like she’s endeared by you even though you completely failed to live up to that visage of a bad girl she thought you might be.
Still, it was fun to pretend it might be true for a second.
“And what were you doing there, Mr. Munson?” she asks, arching her brow at him. “Gathering material for your spank bank?”
“It was for Steve’s bachelor party,” Eddie says pointedly. “It was basically mandatory according to all his finance bros. I wanted to play laser tag, but I had to appease the dark side.”
“Right, because you would never deign to set foot in the Lusty Leopard otherwise,” you say with a teasing smile. Chrissy’s eyes glint as they meet yours and she jumps in seamlessly.
“Yeah, Eddie, we know how much you despise looking at butts and boobs on pretty girls,” she says, giving you a little nudge with her elbow.
“I had to look into getting mine replaced! He can hardly stand the sight of them!”
You feel a bit giddy as you and Chrissy toy with your boyfriend, exchanging your wry smiles and sharing in bubbly laughter. It’s almost like being drunk, even though you’ve only had half of your drink. It sits neglected in front of you and most of the ice has melted, watering down what was left.
Eddie lets you have your fun, but his hand finds your knee under the table and he gives it a firm squeeze. Not mad, just a signal to look at him. His eyes flash when you meet his gaze and his mouth curls into a cool, confident smile that tells you in no uncertain terms he’ll remind you of this later. Another little thrill runs through you and makes you quiver with excitement.
“Anyway,” he continues. “I thought we won the lottery or something. Not only were there gonna be strippers, but there was a whole party full of girls too? We were stoked.”
His eyes flick to yours again. This is where you come in.
“Except someone failed to check their website and see that it was Ladies Night…and an all-male revue. Which is what we were there for.”
“Oh no!” Chrissy exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand, unable to hold back her laughter.
“I have a photo of Steve getting a face full of banana hammock that is pristine.” Eddie cackles and does a little chef’s kiss as you go on.
“So our two parties kind of merge and Eddie pretty much throws himself at me—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, that is slander, sweetheart,” Eddie interjects. “I was valiantly keeping you occupied to spare you Steve’s antics.”
“Uh-oh, what was Steve doing?” Chrissy asks.
“He was wasted, trying to convince the girls at the party to strip once the guys were done.”
“Yeah,” you scoff. “In the name of justice and equality.”
“Oh, Steve,” Chrissy let out a gentle sigh, shaking her head at their mutual friend’s foolishness.
“Exactly,” you say. “Anyway, we wound up playing Truth or Dare and Eddie dared me to do an Irish Car Bomb with him. And whoever finished last, their group had to perform on stage.”
“So, who won?”
Chrissy’s eyes flit between you and Eddie as the two of you share a coy glance. After letting suspense build for a few seconds, Eddie sighs and tips an imaginary hat to you as you smile proudly. Chrissy beams back at you, her hand shooting up for a high-five..
“I knew it!” she says. “Nice one!”
You grin as your palms meet, heart fluttering in your chest. You think back to that night and how your adrenaline had spiked and coursed through you, making your fingers tremble as you held the shot of Bailey’s and Jameson over the pint of Guinness while Eddie stared you down across the rims of the glasses. It was the first time his gaze had completely stilled your breathing and it was strikingly similar to the feeling you got when Chrissy’s eyes had roved over you tonight.
“So, wait, did they actually strip?” she asks. “Please tell me you have a video!”
“I wish!” you laugh and shake your head. “They wouldn’t let anyone on stage. But Eddie did a very tasteful lap dance to I Want it That Way and I was powerless. He asked for my number after and I just had to give it to him.”
“That’s adorable,” Chrissy says, looking at you both all wistful and moony like she was reading some harlequin romance novel.
Eddie looks down, a happy and bashful smile tugging up the corners of his mouth and making his deep dimples appear in his cheeks. His hand rested on the leather booth between you and he slowly slides it over, linking his pinky with yours. You can practically hear what he’s dying to whisper in your ear right now.
Best night ever.
“Gosh, Truth or Dare really takes me back,” Chrissy sighs as she starts to sit back and then jolts forward. “Oh, my god! Is that what we were playing that first time we…you know? Or, wait, it was Never Have I Ever?”
In an instant, your spine went stiff. You withdrew your hand from Eddie’s, the loss of the heat from his pinky leaving a cold ring around your own, and stared cautiously at Chrissy.
“Um…the first time you, what?”
“You know,” Chrissy says, bouncing her brows suggestively. “Our thing.”
“Wh-what thing? What does that mean?”
All the airiness you’d felt just seconds ago has been vacuumed straight out of your chest. You look over at Eddie with wide eyes and find his face is panged with regret.
Chrissy glances at him warily. 
“You didn’t tell her?” she asks.  Oh no…
“No, not exactly,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted her to know about…you know…”
Jesus fucking Christ if someone doesn’t finish an actual sentence I’m gonna scream.
“Oh my god, Eddie! Look how panicked she is!”
Chrissy scoots closer to you, placing a gentle hand on your back and rubbing it in small circles. It’s almost calming right up until the moment you imagine her fucking your boyfriend, or blowing him, or jerking him off, or a million other things that apparently didn’t qualify as “dating.” 
“I’m so sorry we upset you, babe,” she says. “I swear, I figured you knew. It’s not a secret, it just might sound a little scandalous.”
You swallow hard, throat clenching, trying to bring some relief to your mouth that has gone impossibly dry. Reaching for your drink, hoping neither of them can see how your hand trembles as you do, you take a long gulp and place the glass back down a touch too hard.
“Can one of you please just tell me what you’re talking about?”
“Of course, of course,” Chrissy says. “We had a, um…” Her eyes sweep to Eddie. “What would you call it? An arrangement?”
Eddie shrugs as he takes a nervous swig of his beer. “An alliance?”
Chrissy’s head bobs, ponytail swinging back and forth, not entirely satisfied with that either.
“Well, whatever you call it…we were sharing girls.”
Of all the things you expected to come out of Chrissy’s mouth, that didn’t even make the list. You can feel your mouth parting in confusion, brows marrying together as your face furrows. 
“Wh…what does that mean, exactly?”
“We would hook up with girls together,” Chrissy explains. “He and I never did anything, but if we found a girl we both liked, we’d take her home.”
Your brain scrambles, trying to make sense of what you’re hearing.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t get it. How…how, um, did that work exactly? Why would you…”
“Did you tell her anything about me?” Chrissy demands, her gaze whirling onto Eddie.
“I didn’t know if you wanted it broadcasted,” he says, voice hushed as he glances around.
Chrissy shakes her head, a long-suffering kind of motion like he was her little brother who had left the toilet seat up. Her attention turns back to you and she lowers her voice seriously.
“In that case, I’ve been holding this in long enough and it’s high time you knew the truth.” She reaches out to take your hands in hers and arranges her face in the most solemn expression possible. “My name is Chrissy Cunningham…and I fucking love pussy.”
Tumblr media
Part Two
489 notes · View notes
luveline · 6 months
Note
Hi! I was hoping you’d write a James or Remus fic, literally anything you want just make it super fluffy, thanks!
modern au, fem
"You have training in half an hour. What are you doing?" 
James looks up from his games console with a frown. "What?" 
"You have rugby training in half an hour, Jamie. You haven't had lunch or anything." You frown as he goes back to his game. "James, this is terrible time-keeping." 
"Sorry, I can't pause it! It's that thing. Just– fuck, two seconds my lovely beautiful darli– fuck me!" 
Curious, you creep around the bedroom to the side of the bed where he's sitting with a hunched back. "Oh. I never should've let you try. I've turned my gym mad boyfriend into a degenerate." 
You honestly believe that James should spend his time doing what makes him happiest (so long as he spends time with you, too), and for him that's rugby and weight training. They're not solely independent from one another, but they also don't always coincide, and so he spends a large majority of his time up and active. You spend some of that time active but more of it on different hobbies, including the games console. "How long have you been playing?" you ask, leaning down to stroke the thick wave of his hair from his forehead. 
"Just an hour while you were, uhm. What were you doing?" 
You kiss his forehead. "Meditating."
He laughs. "Wait, were you actually? I want to meditate with you." 
"I was doing the washing. Basically meditation if you try hard enough." He splats someone on the game, then a second person, a third in quick succession. "Are you better than me?" 
"No way, shortcake." He splats a fourth person with impressive dexterity, narrowly avoiding his own death. "I'm trying to get coins for you so you can buy that thing you want." 
James is better at the game than you, because of course he is. "I hate boys," you say decisively, kissing his forehead again. "Finish the game and get dressed, my love. I'll make you a roll to eat on the way." 
You steal a last fond kiss and he shouts sweet everythings down the stairs at you. "If my hands weren't busy!" he promises. 
You make him a sandwich and another to eat after practice and put them in a tupperware, knowing he'll scarf both in the car. It's fine, you'll just make him a third when he gets home. Time ticks on, training starts in twenty minutes, then ten. You hear the telltale sound of your avatar upstairs dying and snort to yourself. 
"James Potter!" you shout from the bottom of the stairs. "I need help!" 
There's a sudden thump and the tell-tale rush of him opening your bedroom door. "What?" he asks, coming down the stairs in a whirlwind. "What, lovely?" 
You pass him his kit and tupperware. "You're about to be late." 
"What a devious thing to do," he murmurs with a squint, though he gives you an appreciative sideways hug. "What would I do without you?"
"You'd probably have more muscles," you say. 
He kisses the soft skin under your eye as though this is the normal place for a kiss. "I think you're right. I got you enough for that thing, by the way. What was it? An aerospray?" 
He presses another kiss into the first.
You laugh and push him out the door before he gets too informed. 
922 notes · View notes
Note
Welcome back! I have been enjoying your writing but never sent you request before. Would you write maybe Alfie and a younger reader and he likes her. He wants to marry her but she is not ready so he tells her he would wait forever and it's really sweet and patient. something like that I don't know. you can decide if you like it. Thank you!
“Libretto” — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)
Tumblr media
SUMMARY — Age difference between you be damned, Alfie was quite happy to wait for you forever.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you so much for the request! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ Feedback is always much appreciated.
WORD COUNT — 1,678
Masterlist
Tumblr media
The first time you met Alfie Solomons was purely an accident. At least, you had to lie and swear to the police that it had all been an accident, if only in order to wriggle yourself out of getting arrested.
Now, had you known the man you nearly ran over with your brother’s car was the gangster boss of Camden Town, you could have been persuaded to drive a little more carefully. Especially since the car had been “borrowed” as well.
But, of course, how could you have known? Which was precisely the reason why the first words you uttered to the man were:
“Watch where you’re fucking going!” 
All due credit to Alfie Solomons, he couldn’t have been more shocked.
Now, you have to understand that a man like Alfie Solomons, a particularly dangerous man like Alfie Solomons, usually wasn’t shocked by much. It was not every day, however, that he met a girl with eyes so full of rage, driving a fancy Bentley so obviously outrageous and most likely stolen. It was more than enough to get his interest.
“Well?!” you shouted again as you got out of the car. 
It wasn’t until two police officers approached you, however, that you changed your tune. Immediately spotting your confusion, it was time for Alfie to enter the game.
“Alright, Mr. Solomons?” one of the policemen asked, feigning concern, though both of them were so obviously in Alfie’s pocket that they would have arrested you on the spot—had Alfie still not been so mesmerised by your outburst. And so, to your astonishment, they simply awaited his orders.
To Alfie’s absolute delight, you tried your best not to show how scared you were at that moment, so Alfie took his sweet fucking time before saying:
“Right, gentlemen, thank God you’re here, ‘cause there I was, mindin’ me own business, yeah, an’ there she comes, driving like the Devil’s on her tail, hair a mess—!”
“I beg your pardon, my hair is not a mess!”
“Right now it is, yeah.”
“No, it is not!”
“Are ya suggestin’ I should lie about what I saw, Miss?”
“So you… want us to arrest the lady, sir?” one of the policemen interrupted that exchange, incredulous at the interaction between you and Alfie. 
It served Alfie right, however, since his reputation had always been one to take care of the women in his community. As things were between him and the law, that charity probably remained the only thing between him and the noose.
“Nah, ‘course not,” Alfie waved his hand dismissively. “She’s clearly in a hurry, ain’t ya, luv?” Alfie asked you, with a smirk so devious you felt your cheeks going hot.
“Yes,” you said meekly, then saw Alfie make a face to encourage you to keep going. To spin the tale. 
“I… You see, it’s my grandmother,” you said smoothly and Alfie’s smirk only grew. “That’s my brother’s car, he let me borrow it to fetch the doctor. It’s consumption, you see. Overtakin’ her as we speak.”
As the cherry on top, you stifled a fake sniff.
“Now you see, gentlemen, it’s a case of utmost emergency!” Alfie shouted, waving his cane about and obviously taking great pleasure in participating in your lie. “Thank you for your service, lads, there ya go.” 
As the policemen gladly accepted a not-so-discreet bonus to their payment, you saw your chance and started to get back to the car.
But you thoroughly underestimated Alfie’s game.
“There now, I’ll drive ya, luv, you can never be too careful in these parts,” he said and quickly, quicker than you anticipated for the man, he made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.
“Wouldn’t want any more accidents on the way, now would we, luv?” Alfie grumbled as he promptly handed you his cane and proceeded to fumble with the breaks and the accelerator as if he was trying to tame the car, not run it.
“There we go,” he announced as the engine sputtered and roared and you two sped along the street in a no less reckless manner than you had been driving before.
“Watch out!” you shrieked as Alfie almost drove straight into a flower cart on the corner.
“Don’t worry, luv, I know the way!” Alfie replied, then made a sharp turn towards London Bridge.
“You do?!”
“Right, not exactly, no, but it’s plain as day you’re not from Camden, luv.”
“What gave it away…” you sniped. 
“Now, don’t get cocky, right, ya still almost ran me over an’ I have to tell ya, luv, that takes balls, right! ‘Cause as things stand, the bounty for me is as high as they go.”
You paled at the notion and when Alfie glanced at your expression in between the turns, he roared with laughter.
“Naaah, luv, don’t be like that! Just pullin’ your leg.”
“Very funny.”
“I like to think so, yeah.”
Obviously too pleased with himself to notice, Alfie missed you paying close attention to the cane you were still holding. It was definitely heavy and so well-used that you had trouble distinguishing what used to be the shape of its head.
“Right, seein’ as you almost ended me on my own bloody street, luv, you might as well give me your name,” Alfie interrupted your musings, not too pleased about your close inspection of his personal belongings (even though the contradicting bastard gave it to you for self-keeping himself).
But you gave him your name regardless and he remarked he thought it pretty. When you also gave him your address, he drove you straight home and even got out first to open the door for you. You thanked him quickly for what you supposed was straight up hijacking the car, but seeing as you had done so first to your brother, you thought the deeds even. You only prayed no one would see you with Alfie through the window. You knew your sisters would never let you forget it had they seen you two together.
Tumblr media
You couldn’t have known that wouldn’t be the last time you saw Alfie Solomons. Somehow throughout the following weeks you seemed to have more chance encounters together than the Fates could possibly allow.
He was always pleasant about it, though, and sometimes even brought you flowers. Then he started buying you lunches and somehow it turned into a little tradition just between you two. You ate lunch together every Thursday.
You weren’t stupid of course, you knew what Alfie was after, but truth be told… You wouldn’t exactly mind giving it to him.
He never outright proposed, but he hinted at marriage enough times that it became just one more piece of the regular fun little puzzle between you.
“An’ how’s my favourite girl this mornin’?” he would ask you when he met you for a stroll.
“Very well, thank you, Alfie,” you’d reply, your tone thoroughly overdone on the casual side. 
“Not too cold?”
“No.”
“Not too hungry?”
“Don’t think so.”
“So how ‘bout you marry me today, luv?”
“Oh, I can’t, Alfie!” you giggled as you looped your arm through his and let him lead you around the park. “I’m—”
“Right, let me guess,” he smirked. “Got my shirt inside out again?”
“No, the shirt is very clean today. That’s very unlike you.”
“Well, that’s a first.”
“Well, I told you not to fire your housekeeper, haven’t I?” 
“Yeah, no harm done, I offered that old bat her bloody job back,” he grumbled and you giggled again.
“You’ll thank me later, Alfie.”
“I’m sure I won’t, luv.”
“You’re one stubborn man, d’you know that?”
“Yeah, can’t say I’ve never been told that one before.”
“So why can’t I marry you today, Alfie? You promised to guess.”
“Right, how’s about you’re too cold?”
“No, the weather’s quite nice.”
“Too hot?”
“Not really.”
“Too old?”
“Close.”
“Too young?”
You paused and so did he, because he somehow sensed this time it wasn’t just a game between you two. This time it wasn’t just banter; it was real.
“Luv, if I’m makin’ you do anythin’ you wouldn’t want to—”
“No!” you interrupted that train of thought as quickly as possible and took his hand in yours. “No. It’s just that… I don’t think I’m ready to be a wife, yet.”
“Right, in what way?”
“In… In every way, I suppose. I have no idea about running a household or ironing shirts or…”
“Right, thankfully yours truly has already been told he’s a slob.”
“Alfie, this is serious!”
“Right.”
He looked at you expectantly. You still haven’t let go of his hand, which he thought was rather promising.
“I just think I’d make a lousy wife, Alfie.”
“Yeah, that’s that then, luv, right, ‘cause look at the pair of us, I’d be a real lousy husband.”
That got him another giggle out of you, which he thought might have boosted his chances a little.
“Luv, if your parents don’t approve—”
“My parents don’t give two shits, Alfie, I’m not a princess or an heiress,” you chuckled. “I have two younger sisters and two brothers, as far as my chances stand I’d be happy if I scored a baker or some sort.”
“Right, funny you should say that…”
“A front doesn’t count, you madman!”
Even though you knew you crossed a line there by the way he looked around you two, he never did anything to chastise you or show his disapproval at the revelation you just uttered at full volume. In a way, it already told you everything there was to know about the man, had his previous behaviour not been proof enough that he cared about you a great deal.
You already knew you wanted to marry him, age difference between you be damned. So what were you so afraid of exactly?
“Luv, you already know I’m happy to wait for you forever if—”
You shook your head and got on your tiptoes to kiss him mid-speech, since you already knew that a speech was coming. The answer was, with Alfie by your side, you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.
1K notes · View notes
tenseoyong · 1 year
Note
Hi can you do Aemond x betrothed reader at the dinner scene he’s jealous of jace and reader dancing?
Aemond would scarcely admit he hadn’t expected to become so quickly enamored by his sweet tongued, kind-eyed, gentle handed betrothal. Honestly speaking, Aemond had assumed his arranged marriage would follow a similar pattern as his parents’ and siblings’—loveless and constant avoidance—he was sure that the lovely Lady that had arrived at court would have little interest in the Scarred Prince beyond the gain of gold and the title of Princess.
Yet, Aemond was surprised to find a less than timid woman, one who did not shy away from his cold gaze, nor did she pity or fear his childhood maiming.
Yes, the Prince had grown rather fond of the unusual Lady. Often Aemond spend hours with her, hidden from prying eyes by the many shelves of books of the Keep’s library.
She listened to him attentively—not just keeping up appearances of a doting and obedient wife-to-be—no, she actually enjoyed Aemond’s company; hanging off his every word as he recounted his daily training, or when he told of the history of dragons, even dared to attempt to teach her a word or two in High Valyrian. In turn, she spun tales of her home, how her brothers bickered as children, and how she feared riding a horse just as one would fear facing a dragon.
Aemond would grow to love his Lady Wife—that much he was sure of—and he had dared to hope that she would return that love ten fold.
She had all but extinguished the dragon’s fire that lived in him.
Yet, the moment his darling nephew, Jacaerys, had stepped forward—folllowing his sweet sister Heleana’s speech of marital neglect—and requested she accompany him in dance, Aemond’s mind filled with vivid images of Jacaerys burned to a crisp, curtesy of Vhagar’s breath.
To see her, in the arms of his bastard nephew as she politely accepted his dance proposal, turned his stomach to stone.
Aemond believes he knew true anger. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood angry—angry at his father, and his nephews, and at his dragon-less status. Though, as violet eyes watched his Lady and Jacaerys is dance, Aemond knew then he’d never truly experienced anger—until this moment.
It burned inside him hotter than dragon’s fire, boiling his blood and scalding his heart.
And as his nephew spun his betrothed about the empty corner of the room, Aemond could bare to witness it no more.
The whole room came to a screeching halt as Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose to stand tall, and mockingly held his cup in the air, “I’d like to toast to my nephews—Jace, Luke…Joffrey—each of them handsome, wise, brave…” He paused, turning to stare directly at the hand Jace had placed to the small of his Lady’s back. “And Strong.”
Not to give up the game, Jace didn’t release his partner, only twirling the pair until Jace was between his uncle and his intended before demanding, “I dare you to say that again!”
“Why?” Aemond tsked, rounding the table and taking several calculated steps towards the stationary duo. “T’was only a compliment—I would extend my toast to my beloved betrothed, I shall pray to the Gods that they make our sons as Strong as their cousins.”
The fury was evident enough on young Jace’s face, all while the quiet satisfaction of getting under his skin flooded Aemond’s.
Though, the satisfaction didn’t last nearly as long as he’d hoped—for as soon as Jacaerys fixed Aemond with a mischievous look and devious smile, Jace reestablished his hold on his uncle’s bride-to-be, and taunted, “If only there were such a way to ensure your sons’ strength, perhaps I’ll be of some help, if the Lady wouldn’t mind me—“
All at once, Aemond closed what little space remained between him and the dancing pair, and curled his fingers into his nephew’s neck like a claw, snatching the younger boy up much like a kitten at its scruff, “You’ll remove your hands from my Wife.”
“You misspoke, Uncle.” Jacaerys smirked, ignoring Aemond’s seething rage. “The Lady is not yet your wife, is she? I believe that gives her leave to do as she pleases, while she can.”
“I care not for the beliefs of a bastard,” Aemond’s words dripped with venom. “She is to be my bride—since you are so keen on pretending to be of your status—you should be aware that you are greatly overstepping.”
Jacaerys only cocked an eyebrow—a silent challenge—before his fingers curled into your side and what little room between your bodies had been erased, “Oh? Have I overstepped—“
“You will remove your hand,” Aemond was through playing this game, he did break the eye contact he held with his nephew, yet he could still see the obvious annoyance and displeasure growing on your sweet face. Aemond’s hand fluttered above the dagger strapped at his hip. “Or I shall remove it for you.”
The threat lingered in the air momentarily before, much to anyone’s surprise, the Lady squirmed out of Jacaerys’ hold and took her rightful place at Aemond’s right and placed a gentle on Aemond’s tensed arm.
“My Love,” She all but cooed at the furious dragon she would soon claim as a husband. “Let us not ruin the single night your father has requested with his family—I am unharmed and unbothered—let us not have further bloodshed between kin.”
Aemond won’t not soon let go of his hatred for his bastard nephews, but as his Lady-to-be stood by his side and looked upon him with such care and affection Aemond would afford her this kindness.
He released his blade, and his grip on Jacaerys’ neck—though he paused a moment to admire the half-moon shaped nail marks he’d left in his stead—before collecting his betrothed and whisking them both from the disastrous dinner, desiring nothing more than to be hidden away with his Lady love where they belonged.
Soon after, as the servant folks spread tales of the exciting night—a song would emerge—that of a Lady, who had managed to tame the dragon.
[masterlist]
@moonchildrenandflowercrowns
2K notes · View notes
planet-dusk · 1 year
Text
🏷️ f!reader, unprotected sex, mild choking
“the others could hear.”
“so?’
beomgyu grins against your neck before sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin underneath your jaw. your knees buckle and you’re thankful for his arms holding you upright. you back up against the copy machine, trying to put some distance between you and the dark-haired man in front of you. 
“this could get us fired. both of us.”
“i know.” he licks a wet stripe up to your ear, tongue nearly dipping into the shell. you grimace and he laughs at your reaction. this is all a game to him, you think. fifteen minutes of pleasure to get him through his day. 
“it’s part of the fun,” he murmurs before tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “besides, you want me.” 
“did you lock the door?” you ask, not even bothering to challenge his statement. you both know he’s right. there’s no point in denying it; it’d only give him more ammo to taunt you with. 
beomgyu tilts his head and musters an innocent smile, a carbon copy of the one that got you into this mess. you know better now—there’s a slyness hidden behind it, a cunning look in his eyes that should be enough of a warning to make you turn on your heels and go back to your desk. 
instead, your fingers awkwardly fumble with the front of his slacks. “we don’t have much time.”
“who’s needy now?” he chuckles. the melodic sound warps into a low grunt when you palm him over his pants. he’s hot and heavy in your hand, already swollen and leaking through his underwear. 
“gyu, what i need is for you to shut up and fuck me.”
that seems to spur him on, his eager hands tugging at the front of your blouse while you pull his swollen cock out of his slacks. no matter the rush he always needs to get his mouth on your pretty tits first. 
he sucks bruises into the supple skin and you have to stifle a moan when his lips close around one of your nipples. you’re already too fucked out to care about any visible marks he may leave above the low neckline of your shirt. beomgyu always has this effect on you; his enthusiasm is contagious, the feeling of his heavy cock pressing into your stomach enough to have heat pooling between your legs.
“sure you don’t want me to eat you out first?” 
it’s a tempting offer, but regardless of the time constraint you’re in a rush to feel all of him. 
“need you inside.” you pull at his hair but he doesn’t budge. you tug a little harder and he moans at the sharp sting. “you’ve been teasing me all day, now put your money where your mouth is.”
beomgyu hikes one of your legs around his hips and pulls your panties aside. he brushes his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness and using it to slick up his cock. “always so bossy. fine, i’ll give you what you want.” 
the gasp that escapes him when he enters you tells you he’s been craving this just as bad despite his attempts at hiding it. you wrap both legs around him when he places you on top of one of the filing cabinets, the metal cool against your skin.
“how are you always this wet for me?” he groans into your hair. “i’ve barely touched you.”
“don’t let it get to your head,” you grumble. he doesn’t need to know you’ve been dripping ever since you entered the room. 
“why would i,” he grins smugly. “already got you creaming around my cock. i don’t need to impress you.” 
“this may very well be the last time.”
he laughs and it tells you more than words ever could. he knows you’ll come back to him. if it isn’t tomorrow, it’ll be the day after. he’ll make sure of it; chase you around the office with his dark eyes and devious smile until you’re bending over a desk and waiting for him to take what’s his. 
“better make it count, then,” he quips and snakes his hand between your bodies to circle your clit. after all those times he knows the exact rhythm and pressure needed to tighten the coil in your tummy until it’s ready to snap. 
“are you gonna cum for me, pretty?” he watches your face for the tell-tale signs, feeling the fluttering of your walls around his cock. “wish you could let them hear you…let them know how well i’m fucking you.”
“gyu..” you plead, desperately chasing your release now he’s thumbing your clit with renewed vigor. he knows what you’re unable to convey with words, his other hand coming up to cover your mouth. your eyes slip shut when your high crashes over you and he has to bury his face into your neck to stop himself from moaning at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him. 
you can feel every ridge, every vein of his cock when he slows his hips to a tantalizing drag to savor the slick glide your orgasm provides. it’s almost too much, his fingers strumming your clit sending you into oversensitivity and you tug at his hand covering your mouth. 
“fill me up, gyu, please,” you beg when his hand slips around your throat instead. “want your cum, need it—”
you gasp when he tightens his grip, a light-headed pleasure rapidly building in your core again. it only takes him a few more thrusts before you’re convulsing around him. his hips stutter and he fills you up with hot spurts, some of his cum leaking down your thighs when he pulls out.
he pushes it back in with two fingers, grinning when you squirm and whine. “keep it inside for me, okay?” he looks at his watch and presses a quick kiss against your temple. despite his fingertips still caressing your swollen slit the kiss feels almost too intimate for the bleak office walls surrounding you. “i’ll clean you up later.”
1K notes · View notes
leviathanspain · 5 months
Note
part 2 of i wanna be your please 😭 i need to know they’re together 😭
just wanna be yours
Tumblr media
carmy berzatto x reader
part 2 to i wanna be yours
synopsis: men being men.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
it all happened so fast.
the restaurant had been closed for the night, everyone but carmy and richie had left, even you after you had tried to quit. claire had made it in by knocking on the window, catchin richie’s attention as he counted the drawer.
“claire.” he greeted her, slightly distracted, “cousin’s in the back.” he signaled to the kitchen and claire passed through, finding the office door wide open, only seeing the yellowing light’s reflection.
“carm?” she called out, and heard some rustling in dry storage. she neared it and found carmen frantically counting the inventory.
claire laughed slightly, “isn’t that someone else’s job? i’ve been waiting for you to get off for almost an hour, i called you so many times earlier-“
carm blinked, “yeah, i saw.” he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on his count.
claire scoffed, “you saw them and didn’t pick up? why are you even doing this, it’s someone else’s job, carmy-“
it was like something had finally clicked, “i know it’s someone else’s job, claire! it’s y/n’s job but she tried to quit and i told her no so i’m doing it because i felt bad!” he shouted, clearly frustrated with claire yapping at him.
he was met with utter silence.
claire stared at him in disbelief, “she tried to quit and you didn’t let her?” she repeated his words and carmy nodded, “why, carm? because she doesn’t remember being rude to me and suddenly i’m the bad guy?” claire had remembered their argument from before, where carmy confronted her tales to be lies.
carmy shook his head, “no it’s not that.” he scoffed, and claire laughed, “what else could it be then? hmm?”
carmy shrugged, unable to believe what he was about to say, “i like her. i like having her around, i like who i become when she’s working. im sorry if i don’t want one of my employees to quit.” he threw in that last sentence in hopes to save himself but claire saw right through him.
“you didn’t even hire her, carmy.” but she didn’t linger to argue, taking in her defeat as she strode past him to exit through the back.
carmy blew out a breath of air as he continued his count, repeating the number he had left on in his head as she spoke.
“carmen.” it was the end of another successful night. you had thought about talking to him, mulling it over with sydney who had encouraged you to talk to carmy, especially with what had happened last night.
carmy had been sitting outside, his pack of cigarettes slowly dwindling through the night. he could blame it on the stress of the restaurant, but he knew it had all to do with breaking up with claire that morning. he tossed and turned until the sun rose, in which he called her to break whatever it was off.
“y/n.” carmy turned to see you, scooting down the concrete step to make some room for you. you sat down, thanking him quietly. he offered you a cigarette but you shook your head, pausing before you spoke.
“did you figure out why you don’t want me to quit?” you smirked at him, a devious smirk as if you were sure he had a good reason. perhaps you were too valuable, too skilled…
“no.” there was something different about him. an air that you hadn’t noticed before.
you grazed his shoulder, “what’s wrong?” you should’ve asked him this earlier, clearly he had been off all night. he had messed up a few orders before they even went out.
carmy shrugged, “claire stopped by.” he whispered, and by the furrow in his brows, you could sense something was wrong.
“are you alright?” you didn’t know how to comfort him, youve never had a boyfriend so you couldn’t help through self experience.
he nodded, taking a deep drag of his cigarette, “yeah. yeah.” he sounded far away, as if he was thinking about something else as he spoke.
there had been a mutal silence between you, until you called his name. he stared at your face, as if taking in all your features. “i’m- imma start heading out.” you broke yourself out of every little thought involving carmy and your tongue, blinking as you stood up.
carmy nodded, not turning as he waved goodbye.
carmy stared at the ground. a week since he and claire had decided go on a break, and a week of cigarette conversations with you. you had picked up smoking, after spending so much time with him after a shift, it had become second nature.
“carmy.” he had gotten a little loud with you earlier, and he hadn’t expected you to talk to him at all, let alone come out here.
he stood up, turning as he found you outside with him. he sighed, “i’m so sorry about-“ he shook his head in shame, his hand balling into a fist of frustration. you put a hand on his chest, “don’t worry about it, carm.” you could feel the thumping of his heart, frantic and full of anxiety, “i forgive you.”
carmy leaned into your touch. his heart had stopped thumping so hard and now settled at a good resting rate. but your hand hadn’t left his chest, your eyes lingering on his face as your mind played out all your fantasies.
sydney spent the majority of her shift convincing you that carmy had a thing for you. you had denied it hard until you found yourself daydreaming about it. now he was all you could think about.
yet you couldn’t do it.
you wanted to kiss him, feel his body on top of yours, tasting his sweet taste.
but he was your boss.
and just a month ago, he hated you.
carmy couldn’t do it anymore. you were standing there, as if waiting for him to kiss you.
then he did it. he kissed you, and for a moment he got scared until you reciprocated his kiss. you leaned into him, feeling his hands wander your back, trailing dangerously low.
you bit his lip slightly, before tugging on a curl of his hair. pulling away, you stared at him with dilated eyes. but something settled in his eyes.
claire.
he was on a break, this would be okay. wouldn’t it?
you shivered as you could see thoughts fluttering in his mind. he looked mesmerized after that kiss, but now it was regret.
“i’m sorry.” he whispered, “y/n, i-“ you didn’t let him finish as you stormed off, not back into the kitchen to finish the rest of your shift.
you wouldn’t listen to his rejection, not after everything.
sydney hadn’t expected you to answer. she had tried calling you five times over the weekend, and monday morning had rolled around and you still hadn’t come back to work.
carmy was a mess. all the emotions over you and claire were building up, and he was a ticking time bomb. “i already called her like seven times, cousin! fuck you want me to do?!” he yelled at richie, letting the office door slam behind him.
sydney tore her eyes away from the scene and faced the locker room walls, “y/n.” she spoke your name into the phone, and was met with silence.
“uh-“ she laughed nervously, “i hope everything’s okay. did you quit or?” her question dropped off and you pursed your lips on the other end, wondering what yoj would say.
“no.” the first word came to mind before you could even process, “i just need time. im sorry.” you hung the phone up before she could even say anything.
carmy knew your address from all the times he had walked you home. he lived far from your house, but never once did he object to take you home.
after days of radio silence, and officially breaking up with claire, he knew he had to make it right. apparently you weren’t quitting, and that was his sign to beg you to forgive him.
the knock at your door was the first thing to alert you. you stood up cautiously, you lived in a sketchy part of chicago, and you never knew what lingered in your building. you checked the peephole and saw him, face bowed as he waited.
you sighed, knowing he would be unavoidable.
“carmen.” you opened the door, holding it as you stared at him. he looked beautiful, cheeks red from the cold, but his eyes were bluer than ever.
he looked up as you had said his name, “y/n. can i come in?” he looked past you and into your apartment. he had never seen the inside, always opting to drop you off.
you stepped aside and he walked in. there was a coldness that you exchanged, letting the door slam behind him. he turned around and you crossed your arms, standing firm by the door.
“i-“ he began, “sydney told me you aren’t quitting.” you laughed slightly, of course she told him.
“yeah, well.” you shrugged, “i just said that so she would stop calling. i still haven’t made up my mind.” you admitted, brushing your arms gently, “you came here to what? tell me directly to my face that kissing me was a mistake? because i got that message already.” you wouldn’t tell him how you cried until your chest heaved, or how your neighbor knocked on your door to check on you, after hearing your cries. he had destroyed you, and yet you couldn’t be happier to see him.
but you played the bitter part, knowing he was bad for you made you want him even more.
carmy shook his head, “it wasn’t a mistake, y/n. it opened my eyes and made me realize that i want to kiss you, every waking moment for the rest of my life.” he panted, hands shaking as he brought them up to brush his hair out of the way, “i-“ he laughed, “im sorry. please,” he walked closer to you, “come back.”
you stepped closer to him, bridging the gap as you pulled him into you, resting your head on his shoulder, you stayed silent.
a moment passed and his hand reached up to gently brush your hair, a repeating motion as you stood there with him.
240 notes · View notes
poppletonink · 1 year
Text
Dark Academia: An Inspired Reading Recommendations List
Tumblr media
If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
The Plays of Oscar Wilde
Gentlemen & Players by Joanne Harris
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allan Poe
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
The Enola Holmes Books by Nancy Springer
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Macbeth by William Shakespeare
Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Circe by Madeline Miller
Mythology by Edith Hamilton
The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller
The Sherlock Holmes Mysteries by Arthur Conan Doyle
People Like Us by Dana Moyle
The Ivies by Alexa Donne
The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake
Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson
2K notes · View notes
sparkarrestor · 21 days
Text
So we all know that Awdry originally had James as a GSWR Class 403 since it fit the description of an inside-cylinder mogul, but later changed James to be an English design. This post stems off the thought of "What If Awdry kept James Scottish?"
This whole thing was also brought on by @mean-scarlet-deceiver's Tales of the G&SW excerpts.
Tumblr media
Beware, my writing of a Scottish accent is terrible, try not to cringe.
What If Scottish James
Written By: SparkArrester
1929
James was in a foul mood. Henry, like usual, failed. Now he was stuck with his coal train. That he had to arrange himself. Apparently the new shunter was busy with something that wasn’t shunting.
“Stupid Trucks, stupid coal, stupid everythingggg”, He moaned as he marshalled his train, “All that time being cleaned was a waste!”
The trucks, sensing an opportunity for mischief, made it their mission to give James the worst morning possible. They jammed their brakes, ran hot axles boxes, and some even derailed in the yard. The breaking point was when an old tippler’s front hatch flew open. Coal poured out onto the rails, and onto James, coating his front end. The trucks all burst out laughing, but they were soon cut off.
“Yee wretched little INGRATES!”, Burst out James in a perfect scottish dialect, “Ye all oor jus’ little devious muckle nuisances that are no fit ta scrape ta scale oof me boiler, ye little wee gobshites!”
This continued for some time, until James heard a familiar whistle, and immediately blanched. Percy rolled in looking gobsmacked.
“Err, uhh, hey James?”
“Wha arr ye -ahem- what are, uh, you doing here Percy?”
“Coming to take over the shunting.”
“Ah, right.”
“...”
“... Percy.”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t tell anyone…”
“James, I’m pretty sure everyone on this side of the island heard you.”
“... Dang it.”
1951
James sat there, covered in tar. His crew had already gone to the station to phone for help, and one of the old Suddery Tanks brought a crane to assist. He was hoping for an engine like Edward or Henry to take him to the works. In the meantime, quietly grumbling to himself was good enough. In fact, he was so absorbed with himself that he forgot his surroundings.
“Stupid wee muckle nuisances…”, he muttered, “Stupid Toby. If ‘e wasnae a huge prat my red coat wouldnae be in ruins. Honestly, those wee branchline engines are nothing but great big pieces ‘o-”
A ring of a bell broke him out of his thoughts. He jumped back as he realized Toby and Percy were right beside him. He prayed they hadn’t heard him. They did.
“Ark ay Percy!”, Chortled Toby in a terrible Scottish accent, “Whatever isnae that dirty object!”
“That isn’t even how you use isnae…”, muttered James, but of course they took no notice.
They continued speaking in terrible accents all the way to the sheds. James didn’t know if he should be angry at their teasing, or their complete butchering of his old dialect (one he had tried his hardest to shake), so he settled for both. 
1959
The Fat Controller had brought a new goods engine to help out. James was glad at first, now someone else could work the pick-up goods while he got more passengers. He had heard that there was something up with the new engine when it had arrived, but he didn’t put much stock into it. Later in the day, he was backing down on what would hopefully be his last pick-up goods in a while when he heard a whistle. A deep-toned whistle that he had not heard in years. James grimaced as a Caledonian steam engine pulled up on the adjacent line, giving him the stink eye.
“Well Well Well…” The Caledonian spat, “A Sou’-West engine. And one of Pee-Wee Drummond’s oven-boxes! Ah hoped we saw the last ‘o ye back ‘ome!”
“The feeling is most certainly mutual!” He replied with vitriol that wasn’t really there. He hoped to leave everything pre-sodor behind. But of course it had found him. At least he still had a slight bad opinion towards the Caledonian, it did him good in this confrontation.
“Ark aye!”, Exclaimed the Caledonian, “Why do ye soond like tha?”
James was taken aback, “Like what?”
“There it is again! Aye Douggie!”
The question of who “Douggie” was got itself answered quickly, when an identical Caledonian  engine pulled up besides the first.
“Aye Donnie. What’s up!”
“Wait wait, just let that Sou’-West engine speak!”
James defiantly shut his mouth, but then his crew chose that exact time to ask him something. He replied as quietly as possible. But not quiet enough.
“O Aye!” Exclaimed “Douggie”, “He soonds like a wee sassenach!”
James went red in the face, “Well! I-I-I-”
“Tha accent is ass!” Chortled “Donnie”, and soon “Dougie” joined in.
They continued until James left, his face matching his paintwork. He put a good few months practicing his accent, and it was hard. He now figured out what exactly was up with the new engine: there were two of them, and they both sucked.
81 notes · View notes