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tonberry-yoda · 11 months

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Big Strong Man - Shanks

notes - here's my shanks fic from the poll I did!! I was so happy to write for my husband until I realized I still don't know enough about him. If this doesn't fit with the story, I'm sorry lol, I'm only on episode 345 rn, so bear with me. Nonetheless, I think it's super cute! I hope you enjoy and have a super awesome day! Sending lots of hugs and kisses to everyone!!! <3

word count - 788

warnings - mentions of alcohol (Shanks drinking a beer, nothing crazy, but I thought I'd mention it), blood

"Can I see Shanks now?" Luffy pouted, stomping on the ground.

Shanks had asked you to take care of Luffy for a while, and you were hoping that he would be chill and just play with some blocks or something, but the kid hadn't shut up for three hours at this point and you were amazed. For a seven year old, he sure had too much energy.

"Shanks is busy," you told him as you did the dishes, and Luffy quickly attached onto your leg. "He'll be back tonight though, I promise."

"But I wanna see him nowwwwww!" he whined, making you struggle to hold back an eye roll. "He's probably doing cool pirate stuff without me, huh?"

You wiped your hands dry and pulled Luffy off of your leg, leaning down to his level.

"Luffy," you said, your tone soft. "I know you wanna see Shanks do his pirate stuff real bad, but you're going to have to leave him alone for a little. He is super busy today because of that other crew that showed up."

"But I wanna fight them too!"

"I know you do, but you're gonna have to train and get a crew of your own to fight a pirate crew like that, Luffy, do you understand?"

"Well, when can I do that?" He poked out his bottom lip and crossed his arms.

"When you're grown up and ready to go. Once you're strong enough to take down this whole island, you can become a big bad pirate yourself."

"You think so, y/n?!"

You nodded, a smile plastered on your lips. "I know so."

Luffy jumped up and down in victory exclaiming, "I'm gonna be a pirate!" over and over again in a singsongy voice.

And right on cue, Shanks opened the door, bloodied and covered in bruises.

"Shanks!!" Luffy yelled, running over to the redhead at the door and jumping on him like he didn't have a single injury.

"Woah there, kiddo," Shanks laughed, setting Luffy down. "I don't know if I can take one of your big bad Luffy hugs right now."

"Are you okay?" Luffy asked, tilting his head. He was shocked to see Shanks in a condition like that, especially since he was used to Shanks being a more peaceful guy who seemed to avoid fights if possible. And if he did get into fights, he never looked like this.

"I'm fine! This is nothin'! Though, y/n, do you mind grabbing me a beer from the fridge?"

You crossed your arms and looked at Shanks with an unamused expression. "Luffy, go play in the backyard for a little."

Luffy saluted at you and quickly made his way outside.

"What's that look for?!" Shanks asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"First of all, I'm not going to grab you a beer when you look like this. And second, why the hell do you look like that in the first place?!"

"Those were some pretty pesky pirates." he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Gave us some trouble before we kicked their asses."

"They're gone though, right?"

"Of course! What do I look like?" Ignoring your comment from earlier, Shanks walked to the fridge and cracked open a beer. You just rolled your eyes and grabbed a wet rag to clean him up a bit.

"Well, thanks for getting rid of them, Shanks, and tell the rest of the crew too."

"Can do!" Shanks said with a smile as you began taking off his shirt to find little scratches that were surrounded by blood and dirt. You cleaned him up with the wet rag, making sure to avoid the deeper cuts that you would clean more thoroughly later as to not infect them.

You didn't even notice Shanks staring at you with hearts in his eyes until you were finished.

"What?" you said, trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks.

"Thanks for cleaning me up, cutie." He winked at you and set his beer down before pulling you into his arms, pressing kisses all over your forehead.

You pushed him away, giggling and readjusted yourself so you could better be in a position to kiss him back.

"You know I suck at babysitting, Shanks. I can't believe you left me with Luffy today. The poor kid was bored out of his mind watching me make maps."

"I can make it up to you." he told you, giving you puppy dog eyes and puckering out his lips.

You just giggled and pressed your lips to his several times before pulling him into your arms.

He sighed lovingly and breathed in your scent before hugging you back.

"Alright, big guy, let's get these deep cuts fixed up."

~~~~~

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neonovember · 1 year

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Bourbon Decision’s

Steve Rogers mafia!au

summary: In light of your reappearance in New York, Steve makes a decision that begins the road to the relationship between you both. And you, begin to remember some familiar faces.

warnings; mentions of death, murder, angst and violence

a/n: so, this chapter gave us a little bit of a back story on how the reader ends ups in Brooklyn, and who her husband truly is. Your girl is a fighter! More parts coming soon…

The cursive lettering burns a hole through your chest, the edges cracked and plastered as you shove accusation down into your pocket. It almost feels poisonous, like simply touching it will make him come around the corner, reminding you that you would never be alone, that you were never going to escape him.

You’re able to hide your shaking hands from Caroline, who takes your silence as simple exhaustion, you fill ill, the bile rises from your throat and you pinch your arm to stop yourself from gagging.

You’re able to conceal your emotions well, your entire life and marriage has been holding up a mask, it was a dance that was all you knew, and all you would ever thank him for.

“You alright there sugar” Caroline looks towards you, eyes filled with concern and she takes notice of your wobbly legs. She reaches with a hand to steady you, but you ignore it, holding onto the granite counter, forcing your downturn eyes to look up at Caroline, you straighten your back.

“Yep, fine, I just need to use the restroom” You reply catatonically, a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes has Caroline looking at you even more strangely.

You turn down the hall, passing David, his auburn black bun bopping to the tunes chirping out of a beaten-up purple stereo he gaggled a 17-year-old in exchange for a pack of Marlboros.

The smells of bacon grease and butter that causes the insatiable monster taking camp in your stomach to growl now has you running into the staff bathroom, the door slamming behind you as you dry heave the entire contents of your breakfast.

Wiping the spit falling from your mouth you turn on the tap, scrubbing your face clean and running a wet hand across your hair. The reflection staring back at you looks nothing like the woman just mere hours ago, a woman who thought she had escaped the biggest tormentor in her life, a woman who thought she was finally free. This woman, the one whose eye bags now seem deeper than before, whose skin looks dull and pulled across her body like skin on bone is bound and shackled by the haunted past that never seemed to wretch its fingers off of her.

Each time she thinks she has a chance at life, the chain wrapped around her neck tightens, and it pulls her back until she's dislocated and bruised. It shakes her violently and spits in her face, laughing and cackling, staring down at her in disgust because how could she have been so stupid? So foolishly naive?

You don't escape men like her husband, you just end up dead.

An overwhelming desire engulfs you, the need to survive and flee fills you strong, and for a second you glance at the back door that leads to the alleyway hidden from the main road. You've got enough cash on you to skip town, maybe hunker down in a dingy yellow motel for a bit until you feel

But what's the point? There was no plan B for what you did, your escape itself was a fucking plan B, and your head is still pounding from the success of it. You had gotten lucky, for the first time in your life, you had gotten lucky. You wouldn't get this chance again, this was it for you. Skipping town would do nothing, but prolong the inevitable, there were no steps ahead with the men you knew, at least let you die with your dignity.

You can't help but laugh at your stupidity, it racks through your body and has you bent over, gripping your stomach, before your shoulder shudders with cracked sobs, a hand muffles your wails as you run the tap, the last you wanted was for adiora to hear you.

You were just so exhausted your body weighed down with the fatigue and stress of your escape, the bruises and injuries you've accumulated over the years that never fully healed took a toll on you. You'd never gone a day without seeing how your body would look without the yellows and purples colliding, some ragged and large while others were small and deliberate. It made you walk funny, your manager had asked if it was a limp, if you'd be able to waitress with all the walking it included, you rushed to tell her it was nothing, just a fall that didn't heal right.

You needed this job, and youd do anything to get it

Caroline had told you you could get benefits for it, to help with rent and supplies, you smiled and told her you'd look into it, you didn't think it would be appropriate to tell her it was years of abuse.

Could the government pay you for that? Or would you be met with an officer at your door ready to drag you back to your husband because of course he had the governor on speed dial and the NYPD in his front pocket?

A tiny bubble of anger begins to set place in your chest, how dare he? He didn't even want you, the nights he’d bring home countless women told you enough. Why did he so adamantly want you then? Keep you chained and locked in the palm of his hand?

You've seen the other marriages in this line of work which were much like yours, transactional and strictly business. Except most of them had an agreement, you have yours and I have mine. Show up like you both are in love, clutching onto each other and keeping your lovers to the side.

Not him though, no, he wanted it all, you think he craved the power it gave him, to see you at his feet below him, your escape was the one time you felt like you had gotten him beat. You knew it wouldn't last long but damn did it feel good.

That man with golden hair looked at you so strangely, like he knew you from long ago, you'd shaken the sense of familiarity from your mind before it even began. This was New York, not Washington, no one knew you here. You were just a face, like any other, so why did he look at you like the sight of you broke him?

The fact of the matter was, your husband was an unstable lunatic who fed off the fear of others, he’d probably shot a few women who even slightly resembled you during the time since your escape, so why didn't that man drag you out of the diner and into one of your husband-marked vehicles?

There was only one explanation, one you couldn't bring yourself to entertain, but it still remained in the back of your mind, next to the hopes and dreams you had for yourself at 13.

The sounds of your name being screeched from the counter can be heard echoing towards you, the diner was horribly understaffed and don’t doubt that there is a mountain of things that needed to be completed since your meltdown.

You need this job, you were not about to lose it.

So just like the years you have been trained, you shove the impending emotions down your stomach, straighten your back, and practice your smile before slamming the staff door behind you.

It’s well past 11 when you finally finish cleaning up after the last of the patrons that exited the diner, the moon was cloaked behind deep grey clouds, providing little light to your walk home. David had offered you a ride, but you had declined quickly, the thoughts circling your mind would be too loud for a car ride. You didn't like walking home, especially this late at night, but you had no choice. You would not want to incapacitate someone else's day, especially now with a target on your back.

The flickering street lights provide a tiny sliver of direction to the beaten path cracked with concrete and dirt. A loud truck filled with men slowed as they neared you, you kept your head down, fingers pressed into your palm as you tried to avoid any confrontation. They screamed obscenities, before zooming past you, the smell of burnt tire lingering behind them.

There was a shortcut to your apartment complex, though the back alleyways were hidden from the main street, and you made a sharp turn to follow the insecure path through the suburban houses. It doesn't take long before you notice the unmarked car following shortly behind you, just a few streets back, enough to not look conspicuous but still get a clear view of you.

You tense, unsure of what to do, you push your house keys between your fingers, silently praying to god that it wasn't him. And it seems that god is on your side today, as the car pulls into a dark street, leaving you breathless and releasing your grip on your keys.

You don't waste any time running the rest of the way until the dingy apartment complex comes into view, your neighbour, a sweet middle-aged lady whose smile never quite reached her eyes and who let you use her gas was screaming at her son, a cigarette hanging from his mouth in open shock.

You smiled to yourself as you passed them, he looked towards you with raised eyebrows, pleading for some support. You weren't about to tell her how to raise her kid, she looked even more exhausted than you.

Jimming the door handle a couple times, you finally shoulder your way into the safety of your small but safe apartment. The soft caramel walls were chipped away at the edges, and the wallpaper was peeling but it was home. It was the closest thing to something that was yours, and only yours.

You quickly made yourself some time, to help calm the storm beginning to write inside your mind again, you hated coffee, it left you jittering and cold and you just wanted to sleep at this point.

After jumping into the shower, your waitressing clothes left sweaty and seeped with oil in the basket you finally found the solace of your cold bed. You invested good money into a solid mattress and covers, and it payed of by the softness and ease that engulfed you.

You reached for the book left on the side table, its spine broken in and countless stains and markings left on its pages. You had never gotten the chance to read, you'd been told it was a useless waste of time that could instead be used for more important things.

Now though, with the threat of your safety looming around the corner, you felt you needed to finish every book you started, in fear you mightn't ever again.

Your mind, however, was running 50 miles an hour and it so happened to find him, golden boy, again. He looked so different from the henchmen of your husband. They were all short and stoic, egregious muscles bursting through tight shirts, fingers dirty with blood and sin. They all had that hungry insatiable expression, like rapid dogs, they salivated every time they were given a task, to murder, to steal, to torture.

One particular night, when you left down the hall to the section of the house you weren't permitted to enter, the blood-curdling screams and moans followed by their laughter had you bolting out, they heard you anyway, and your husband had forced you to watch.

You just needed scissors.

This man though, his eyes shone with a different kind of darkness. One possibly more intricate and deeper than the sleazy men near your husband, and, it should have scared you. But it didn't, it pulled you closer like you wanted to dip your foot in and see how far it went. The sense of familiar you'd refused to feel filled you once again, a part of your mind was screaming at you, itching and shoving its fingers between bordered wood to get you to see.

Shaking your head you flicked to the dog-eared page, one thing you knew about the world you were married into, was all the men were obsessed with one thing, power and money, and they'd do anything to get it.

All of them.

The brown liquid sloshes against the ice as steve raises it to his lips, finishing it with one gulp. The familiar burn of liquor eases the tension in his shoulder, as he leans against the mahogany desk, hands folded against his chest.

“All I’m saying is that we have to act fast and we have to act now, every day that passes is another risk to the dominion, he's getting more and more erratic by the day” Sam murmurs, sitting on the plush velvet coach situated to the left of the expansive office, the high ceiling lights cast a glow across the room that does little to ease the tension.

Steve rubs his jaw, scratching at the stubble that has begun to grow, he's gotten so busy that he'd forgotten to shave. Steve’s mind is scattered, bits and pieces here and there, Sam was right, Matthews was getting even more unstable than he ever was, killing mercilessly without a second thought, leaving finger prints and blood and bodies. Sooner or later, he’d get the entire underworld exposed if he kept up with this.

“I know, I know, I just- I need to think” Steve begins, before Bucky interrupts quickly, his eyes roam Steve, squinting as he notices something off.

“It’s different this time, Matthews, it’s more than just his greed and psychotic tendencies, he’s lost something. And I have a feeling you know exactly what it is”. Bucky replies, eyebrows raising and he looks towards Steve.

Sam looks up rapidly, a grim look on his features as he takes in Steves silence

“Steve…what is it?” Sam replies, Steve was apprehensive to reply, eyes shutting for a few minutes, mind racking over the moments before, when he found you. Selfishly, in a way, he wanted to keep you hidden, a secret only he knew, but Sam and Bucky knew him long enough where they’d eventually find out.

“You know Matthews wife” Steve begins, Sam and Bucky lean in closer as they take in Steves tighten jaw and deep seated anger behind his eyes. Steve was a man of decorum, he’d rarely show his true anger, always hidden behind canine smiles and wolf like hunger, he was precise and meticulous with his rage. It’s what made him so powerful.

“The girl from your home town?, The quite one right?” Sam replies, confusion covering his features as he tries to connect the picture Steve was sewing in front of them.

His cracks as he remembers you, before Matthews and before he stamped out the light that always shone through your eyes, the oblivious innocence you carried that seemed to suck him in and ruin him for anybody else.

“Yeah, yeah, that one” Steve coughs before straightening his back

“Poor girl, I heard she didn’t even get a say, just woke up one morning with his claws in her. I haven't seen her in any of the charity fundraisers in a long time” Bucky says, hands running through his jet black hair as he recalls your frequent absence. It was strange, most men would flaunt their wives anytime they’d get the chance, especially one as gorgeous as you. Not Matthews though, he acted as if you were invisible, a burden, like a mother running after her petulant child. As if he wasn't the one that gave you no choice but to marry him.

“She's gone” Steve spits out, his golden locks fall to his face as he quickly pushes them behind his ear, no one else knew of your absence, besides your husband and him, you were still behind the shadows of his wrath. Now the shoe had dropped and it was real, you’d really gone and done it, you’d escaped him.

“What do you mean Steve, your telling me that girl escaped one of the ruthless mob bosses in Northern America? The one with all the guns and men and fucked up morality? The one who’s murdered teenagers?” Sam emphasis in open shock, moving to get up from the sofa and walk closer to Steve.

“I dont know when, I don’t even know how, but she got out” Steve says, a sudden urge to see you again fills him, he shakes it away quickly before it consumes him whole and ruins him.

“Holy shit, she really did it. She’s got some fucking balls” Bucky says, eyes widening as he comes to terms with the fact that you may not have been as innocent as they once thought.

“But, if shes out...she knows what will happen to her now? As much as I hate Matthews, he brought her immunity and protection, especially one from a family like hers, now-, now she’s a walking target.” Sam says it was inevitable, the mafia world wouldnt allow for such treachery, for such betrayal.

“Open fucking season” Bucky continues, eyes strained behind Steve towards the frosted window of the office. The planes of concrete fields stretch endlessly, the smoke of vehicles and Nee Yorks smoking problem floating through the deep grey clouds.

What was your endgame?

The question circles Bucky’s mind, he was always searching for an answer, a causation, and right now you had him stumped. Funny.

Steve nods, nocking his leather dress shoes against each other, loyalty ran thicker than blood in this world of theirs, and what you had committed was worse their murder.

“She disappears I know, trust me I do, probably ends up at the bottom of the Hudson at best, and at worst..” Steve says

He didn’t need to continue for them both to understand. Eyes failing to wince as they had grown use to the brutality of the mafia.

“But, I talked to her, earlier today, down by Brooklyn” Steve begins to say before both Bucky and Steve interrupt him quickly

“You talked to her?! Jesus, Steve, this has got to be a fucking joke, because I know the man infront of me. And he would be as insane as to talk to a mafia’s wife, let alone the king of the dominion. Hell, even being near her would count as a death wish” Bucky replies, eyebrows furrowed as the shock of Steve’s recklessness hung in the air.

“We can’t afford an attack right now, especially one from someone as psychotic as him and his lunatics” Sam reiterates, unsure what had gotten into their usually calculated and cunning friend.

“Listen dammit”, Steve grumbles, hands flying around him

“If I get her to share some information about Matthews in return for safety, we’ll be able to get ahead, plan an attack before he even registers she’s back in New York”

“Back, she was here before?” Sam questions, confusion filling his usual stoic features

“She was here a couple years back, something happened, bad, and since it’s Matthews you know it had to have been some extraordinarily catastrophic shit” Steve murmurs, eyes far away as if he’s mind was back all those years. His fist tighten involuntarily, and he quickly reminds himself to relax before they take notice of his sudden anger.

“No one knows what happened, not Santiago, not even Brock. All we know is that he changed after that, became way worse. Before, at least he could keep a handle on it, after what happened though, it’s like he’s wishing for a reason to rage”. Steve continues, Bucky and Sam nod following him, they had all noticed the shift in Matthews behaviour, even more drastic then, the entire underworld whispered behind masks and glistens of pistols about the mafia don and his mental breakdown.

“Your asking her to commit treason then?” Sam quakes, hand pressing into the deep wood of the chair.

“She already did when she walked out that door, you don’t just make a decision like that, no, not for someone like her. She probably stayed in that decision for days, if not weeks. She knows the risks she took.” Steve informs, arms crossing against his chest, he knew you weren’t as stupid as people thought you were, in fact he knew you better than most people ever would.

You were similar to him in that way, cunning in ways people didn’t realise, always hidden beneath false naivety.

“Well, you sure he’s still out looking for her? How do you know he isn’t pointing a fucking laser at your head right now?” Bucky begins eyes strained to the window again as if looking out for any incoming steel bullets.

Steve remains silent as he hums to himself, a pen between his fingers as he jots down your address on a haphazard note pad.

“Because she would have already been dead by now” He says finally, underlining the street name twice, before clicking it back into the desk drawer. Sam laughs, a hand coming to rest at his chest, the under suit creases at his ministrations and it reminds Steve that he needs to buy one that actually looks good on him.

“You’re one insane mother fucker Steve, I’ll give you that” Sam chuckles at the casualness of the blond’s demeanour.

Steve shoots a smile, a real one, his canines glint and for a second, it’s as if a wolf has taken it’s place over his features. The rosy reds of his cheeks contrast against the sand gold of his hair and suddenly Steve looks younger. Like the cruelty and immorality of the world around him hasn’t taken his soul and left a gaping black hole.

“That’s how we win, it starts with her” Steve replies with finality, his voice refusing any negotiation or persuasion.

It was final, Steve set his eyes on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he got exactly what he wanted.

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jamiesfootball · 11 days

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🌹🌺🌹🥀🌹🌷🌹🥀🌹🌷🌹🥀🌹🌺🌹

slowly but surely I will chomp all the flowers!

From You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

The ride in the next morning is tense as fuck.

In the light of day, the bruising on Jamie's face looks even worse than it had in the quiet starkness of Roy's kitchen. He was only able to coax Jamie into a brief nap on the couch before the drive into work, and in the short handful of hours the cut below his lip had swollen from the bottom of his jaw to the edge of his lip. Their reward for Roy cleaning the road tar out of the scrapes on his face is that the red scratches are even more inflamed, agitated and likely stinging under a layer of carefully applied ointment.

There's no hiding it.

Not that Roy could make himself stomach saying the words, 'Do you want to cover it up?' But fuck, for Jamie's sake, he'd almost prefer it if he had the illusion of an option.

Jamie doesn't speak the entire drive in. His hands lay limp in his lap. His fingers and knuckles are covered in plasters because Roy had overcompensated towards the only part of him able to take a bit of protection. He's not on his phone because his phone is turned off, out of charge with a cracked screen, and sooner or later one of them needs to bring up whether or not Jamie's going to the police or if he's going to wait it out and see what his dad does first, and the entire thing is a gargantuan fucking shit show.

#jamie tartt #roy kent #rose for a snippet #writing snippet #fic: you're gonna go far kid #cw abuse #fuck jamie's dad #in brighter news- I think I may finally be recovering from both burn out and illness!#yay

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andantexvii · 2 years

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//Promises// Pt. ?? [Preview?]

Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count ~ 900

Notes ~ So, you ever told yourself you're committed to writing a slow burn romance? The kind that builds, and builds, and comes close a hundred times but doesn't hit the mark until it's just right? ...anyway, I love that, but I also love writing ahead for inspiration when I have writer's block on a certain passage. ...and I literally cannot stop writing soft Eddie.

So, I'm sharing a bit from a future chapter, that's still subject to change - but given my sporadic posting schedule I'm still working on it.

Warnings ~ profanity; physical abuse (talk of past abuse, abusers, etc. but no actual act); use of she/her pronouns; hurt/comfort.

→

Before she could open her mouth again to continue, Eddie had leaned into the counter with his full weight; the aging wood creaked under the clenching of his palms. The sudden sound startled her, and though he tried to look apologetic, there was a stern, unusual ferocity in his eyes he couldn't hide.

"Did he… he didn't, uh, he didn't hit you, did he?"

All at once he fought the urge to reach for her, feel every curve for lumps, eye every corner for bruises; soothe the pain with his fingers, caress the soreness away, if only he could… Quickly, he busied his hands with rifling through his dark curls, mind racing, to stop himself from grabbing her in a panic. Bile rose at the back of his throat at the thought of the deep, purple wounds blossoming against her skin, struck by the hands of a coward, too weak for the stubborn pride they tried to wear like vestments of power. He knew the type too well.

As it stretched on, her silence was more painful than its implication.

"Hey, hey." In one swift move, Eddie skirted the counter and dropped to his knees in front of her. His face twisted in pained concern as he gently, reassuringly, placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Hon. I, I need you to tell me he didn't put his hands on you."

Pursing her lips it became clear she hid her pain behind a well-honed mask, plastered, polished, and painted so many times over the years one could hardly see how many times it'd been cracked. Finally, she shook her head in silence.

Eddie hardly had a moment to draw a breath of relief, before every muscle in his body clenched again, anxiously.

"N-no, not this time. No."

There was a pained rumble deep in his chest that manifested in the form of a weakened, feeble grunt through clenched teeth. He licked his lips a few times, a nervous tic, leaving his tongue to rest against his lips deep in thought.

"Not this time, huh?" He nodded as if he'd come to some conclusion, some agreement with himself, though his mind burned blank with a white hot disgust. Not this time. Not this time and never again.

She dropped her head a bit further, unable to hold his eye as she heard his breath catch in his throat. Eddie's usual soft, honeyd gaze had hardened to a piercing intensity she couldn't bear to see. There was something primal brewing in him and she could feel it; a defense mechanism she'd had and held since she was so very young. She'd felt his mood shift silently. Only now, unlike most, when her heart rang its silent alarm there was no fear in her, no worry at what was next to come - there was an anger in him, yes, it was unmistakable. Even so, she didn't crumble in anguish under his touch, he was security… he was safety.

"E-Eddie…" She whispered, her voice hardly disturbing the air between them.

His dark eyes turned to her in an instant, his own hyper-vigilance on alert. It was a shame, he thought briefly, that he felt that same caution coursing through her body as he knew she felt in him. It was something one would only recognize in another if they, too, bore the invisible mark; the mark of someone who'd needed to learn to defend themselves long before they were ready.

"Yeah?" He murmured back, leaning down gently.

Silent for a few long moments, she laid her hands open in her lap. Her fingers trembled slightly, inching forward a bit, but seeming to lack the strength to truly reach.

"Can I… is it okay if I j-just…" She strained her voice as thin as the morning mist, gesturing openly toward him.

He looked to her open palms drawing a long, slow breath. He'd wanted so much to be her calm, her shelter in this morning's storm, he had hardly paused to fathom how much she truly wanted, needed it, too. No matter how skilled a sailor she'd become, navigating the torrential currents of her life, every ship eventually needed to come to port; to come home.

"What you, uh, you want… me?"

She pulled her hands away quickly, fearing she'd disgusted him with the mere suggestion, sniffling softly. That was all it took for his dam to break, sweeping away all pretense of shame.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, come, come here. I've got you." He leaned in just a bit and wrapped his arms around her softly, and so very all at once. Letting out a faint sob against his shoulder she eagerly returned his embrace, clinging to him as if his presence were the only thing tethering her to the better side of an emotional breakdown.

"Hey, let it out if you need to, s’alright. I'm here; just you and me." Eddie spoke softly against her hair, giving her a firm, protective squeeze, as his heart rose into his throat. Even as she cried softly against the bare skin of his shoulder, he smiled into the crook of her neck; wondering how everything having gone so wrong could have led to this, that felt so right. His reassurance wasn't just to make her feel better for a moment, he meant every word. No matter what he had to do to make it true.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #promises #promises fic #I can't stop writing soft eddie T_T

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minghaoss-archive · 5 years

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mercury• lee taeyong(m)

taeyong ruins you, in more ways than you'd expect.

1, part 2

"do not mistake this myth for love, that is a different kind of burning."

.......

Taeyong grants you every little thing you ask of him, be it his touch or his defense but you regret wishing him of something which risks you seeing him ever again.

Your head hurts as the memory sets in, the wine doing little to mitigate the choked sobs you’re accustomed to. This picture that you can’t take your eyes off, it’s all your fault.

A week ago

Hendery looks like he's holding in dragon's breath when he looks at you. You search his face, a thick lump caught in your throat. In the warm glow of the camp fire, his pinkish face looks beautiful, you think, he's beautiful, but it's a little to late for you to shower him in accolades.

In his twist of emotions of creased brows, swollen and bitten mouth, it's almost as if someone ran a stake through his heart, his fist is rolled up in a ball of pale knuckles. From the looks of it, you know if it were any other guy than Taeyong, he'd have punched a hole through their face but Hendery is only holding back because there was no way he'd go home with a few injuries and a broken heart. "Why?" He asks you, eyes welling up with tears, his voice rises and turns a few heads circling around the fire which resembles the ring of flame in Taeyong's pitch black irises. Taeyong watches his tattooed knuckles with much attention as if he'd put it to use soon. He rests his arm around Hendery's shoulder like they were the best of friends.

You shoot Taeyong a quick panicky look but the boy only pulls a sleek cigarette out and winks at you. As if he hadn't just given your boyfriend a jump scare not long ago. You sigh, he wasn't going to help you, you were alone in this.

"I..I.." you start, looking for words which might suffice for the pain you'd caused him. Your tongue rolls in your mouth, as if it had no intention of relaying any form of explanation for what you did. "Why?" He reiterates, squeezing your interlaced fingers so tight you're sure they might snap. "Hendery..you're hurting me." You whimper, you can feel the girl who'd been sitting in between Taeyong's legs stare at you with an inscrutable fear in her eyes.

There are a few of your classmates who watch the show with more attention than that is needed. "Well, you hurt me too." He says, his tone relentless as he raises his fingers entangled with yours. "Do you know what she did?" He says, scanning the dumbstruck audience you're amongst.

You look at Taeyong again, help me, you try to relay as you watch his face brighten in the flicker of a gaslight whilst he sets his cigarette alight with his spare hand. He doesn't look at you. Not once.

You let tears spring, and roll down your cheeks, your hand feels like it's being broken. You've spent the whole of your school life being invisible, unhurt, and away from the public eye. So when he's hellbound on dragging your reputation through the dirt, you feel like all the years independent of embarrassment has finally been accumulated and thrown at you all at once.

He drags each syllable of your name, holding your palms up in the cold air, he starts, his face twisted in an ugly snarl,

"She cheat-" Taeyong hooks his finger in Hendery's mouth and drags him backwards so his ear is pressed close enough to whisper. "I wouldn't do that, coward boy. I wouldn't do that if I were you." He takes his cigarette from his lips and drills its half lit head in the fabric of Hendery's pale blue jeans.

Your ex boyfriend whimpers, letting your fingers go, "but then again, I'm not chicken enough to be you." You watch in horror as Taeyong unhooks his finger, letting the poor boy's mouth go as he watches him fall from the theatrical show he was going to host. There's a black patch on Hendery's pants, there must be a bruise underneath.

He, unable to hide away from the embarrassment from the crowd he'd gathered, gets to his feet and attempts to leave. He feel like an actor who'd forgotten the lines to his own play. You drag yourself up and follow behind him, calling his name. He had hurt your hand a whole lot, he'd almost wrecked your image but it still didn't justify what you did to him. At least to you.

"Hendery, wait." You say, sprinting behind him. He doesn't relent in his lengthy steps, and you can hear the heavy weight of spikey boots follow behind you, you don't have to think twice as to determine who it is.

When Hendery halts in his steps, with his back turned against you and his palms at his waist, you bend down to touch your knees, catching your breath.

"Why did you do that to me? Was I not good enough?" He screams now, as you reach out to touch him but he leans away from your grasp.

You breathe in broken bits, heavily affected by the sprint. "You were, you were." You lie, attempting to assuage him. You're guilty, it felt terrible to look at him like that. Hurt plastered across his face. You did this to him. “I-I’m sorry.” You choke out, watching him grimace at the word. “Fuck your sorry.” He spits, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“Let’s go back, ______.” Taeyong’s palm presses against your shoulder blade as he attempts to take you away. “Oh and look who’s here to bring you back. Your knight in shining armor.” Hendery spits back you, mocking you as he emotes his anger in a less than decent manner while shoving his hands in the air.

“You know what, I should’ve known that you were such a fucking slut.” You let your voice crack at that, “Always knew you had a sickly obsession with this guy, saw how you ogled him, freak.” You feel like someone had stripped you naked and pushed you in a crowd. What will Taeyong think of you now, will he really see you the same way as he did before?

“I’m not..I’m not a freak.” You whimper but his cruel words don’t stop at that. “No wonder no one fucked you for so long.” You hold your palm against your mouth, a muffled pained cry barely making past your shivering lips. Hendery looks unapologetic, like he wants to tear you apart with his words.

He eyes Taeyong, seething at the pair of you. A dry chuckle escapes Taeyong’s lips.

You should’ve seen it coming, from the numerous years that you’ve known Taeyong going around school with bruises, with a reputation of beating people into a pulp, a pulp that barely made it alive to see him again.

Taeyong lunges at the boy, his fist landing at his squared jaw with so much force that Hendery growls out like a wild animal. Your vision clouds as you fail to wipe at the burning tears that escape at a sight you can hardly make out.

You watch Taeyong’s broad back shift as he continues to punch Hendery’s face like it was something he had waited for all his life. It’s sick how you feel pleased with the way he’s beating the other boy up, however you berate yourself before this emotion overtakes you. You look back at the circle of your classmates and are relieved to see that most of them cannot hear you over the loud boom of music. No one knew what you did and frankly, no one cared.

You had bigger issues at hand, rather, given the pace of his hits, you’re sure Hendery won’t make it, not when he’s wailing like an injured dog. You attempt to push Taeyong away weakly, “Stop it..stop hurting him, you’ll kill him, Taeyong, stop.”

In the split second, you’re met with the acrid sight of Hendery’s bloody face as Taeyong rolls off of his body at the weight of your words, you knew that it was wrong, you were terrified of Taeyong. Was this the person you’d made love to? Was this the person you fell in love with?

You look at him in shock as you cradle Hendery’s bloody head, he’s holding onto you like it’s the only way he can breathe. When Taeyong leans in to touch you, you flinch way. Sobbing into the injured body as you hold it close to your chest. He sees the look in your eyes and recoils.

“I never want to see you again.” You say these words without meaning to, with a moral obligation grabbing at your throat, you watch the love of your life’s face morph from hurt to anger to stoicism as he walks away from you with the same bruised knuckles that fascinated you for so long.

He accepts your wish like any other.

Today

You look at the picture on your Instagram feed again and again again. Taeyong’s palms are pressed against some girl’s waist. His black hair falls over his right eye, an eye which is guarded by a freshly cut brow slit.

You wonder if he’s forgotten you. If he really knew that even if you had dragged Hendery to the hospital, that your heart was still with Lee Taeyong as it was that day at the cabin. You wonder if he called someone else his angel. If he could be call you his baby again.

Because you don’t want him to be someone else’s.

You wonder and wonder and you drag your drunk body up Taeyong’s apartment, you wonder and you knock.

As if he’s been waiting right there for you, he pushes the door open, not inviting you in. He watches you with his fingers splayed on his door. He’s wearing a glittery black tank top. One which would’ve made any other man look like a badly designed disco ball but not him-oh no, he looked like he belonged in this outfit, like it was his skin, like he was born in it.

“What do you want?” You wince at the icy tone of his voice, attempting to lean your head against the door but the man pushes it away from your access.

You feel a lump roll in your throat from the way he speaks to you, the mischievous glint in his eyes long gone, he does not look at you with the want he did before. This epiphany births a hurt in your chest.

He looks at your outfits, teeth clambering down on his now pierced bottom lip. He looks like he’s suppressing something you can’t make out in the low lighting. You’re dressed in a black skirt and a cropped black shirt, your attires are matched accidentally, your cheeks burn in embarrassment, maybe he really did think you were the freak Hendery accused you of being.

“I..I ..did.. not think it through when I said I didn’t want to see you again.” You close your eyes at the confession, watching as he looks at you like a predator would at his prey, you almost smile at this change.

“So?” Taeyong’s face falls into an impassive mask, he looks furious, those fiery ringlets in his eyes glimmer for a second. “I want to see you. I want to see you everyday.”

He nods, like your admission had no effect on him. “Thanks. Anything else you want?” You frown, jutting your lip out dramatically when he attempts to close the door. “I want you.” You whisper and the spark in his eyes appear. The omnipresent glint in his feautures is reborn, “I want to be your ang-” he pushes you against the open door and, drags you to him with the loops in your skirt’s waist.

When he kisses you, it sets your body alight like it did the first time he’d touched you, you moan into his mouth, attempting to push your fingers into his hair, which he presses over your head. His tongue is hot on yours and his body radiates heat like a tropical country would. He smells of gasoline, he tastes of coffee, he’s just as you remembered and just as you loved.

When he pulls away, you look at your feet, and he cages you between his body, his forehead pressed to the crown of your head. “I missed you.” He says, dragging the cool material of his rings along your exposed thighs as he hauls you up and wraps your legs around his lithe hips.

You groan in his touch.

Your stomach coiling, your intestines twisting in the warmth that spread out through out your tummy.

He drags you to his room, adorned by posters of rock bands you hardly recognize as he flings you to his gray bed in between wet kisses. He crawls over your body, kissing the base of your throat. You bask in the warmth of the severity of his heated touches, his mouth, his charcoal eyes and that scent of him that you missed so much.

You fall and fall into a pit so deep that you knew there was no going out. Taeyong had managed to ruin you, spoil you and every time he touched you, you felt like that Phoenix engraved into his honey skin, you felt like you might expode into flames.

Your hips roll into each other and the feeling of completion washes over you one more time.

“Ride me.” He says, his name you whisper in his ear. “I love .. I love the sound of my name on your tongue, angel, my angel.” He says. Your arms wrap around his neck and his mouth falls open at your lips, he whimpers, resting his hand back on the mattress as he leans back. His idle fingers squeeze your sides. "Fuck.. sweetheart. I missed you so much." He says, the bed groaning under your bodies. Your insides twist as you near your orgasm in a flash. Taeyong moans, his mouth on yours, hi fingers all over your body, as he kisses you with so much ardour that you feel like your eyes may roll back into your skull.

"Baby. You're gonna fucking drive me crazy." He says, scrunching his eyebrows upwards as he pushes his cum into your core. "Take me, darling, all of me." His voice is drops a few octaves, deep, and throaty, you kiss him again.

Taeyong always grants your wishes.

........

The night goes away in a blur, in the torment of the summer heat as your sleepy body sticks to Taeyong, the smell of sweat and the sound of heavy breathing is the only invader in his room. You watch him kiss your knuckles, you watch him look at you with love in his eyes and you watch his eyelids droop, with his tattoed arm wrapped around your waist and the sound of your heart beat resonating in his ears.

That night you fall asleep next to Taeyong, only to be woken by the obnoxious buzz of your phone, there’s a text which robs the color off of your face, ‘I know what you did.’ It says, the number anonymous. A video attached to the white box.

You press play with clammy fingers.

It’s the cabin, it’s the two of you. It’s a video. It’s your body. It's your voice. Your moans. "Taeyong."

Someone was out to ruin your life.

You sit up in horror, crying into your palm. The lift of your body had woken Taeyong. He narrows his eyes at the blue glow of your device. His gaze flits between your phone and your petrified face before he seizes the device from you.

You watch as he reddens in fury, deciding the fate of the now broken phone as he throws it against the black plaster of his walls. “I’m going to kill him.” He sneers, his teeth grinded together and nostrils flairing and

you know that, truly, this time, he might.

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