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all-too-random · 7 months

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We Don't Waste Food

Sanji Vinsmoke (OPLA) x reader

Sanji notices that you haven't been eating very much.

TW: Reader is implied to be in the process of recovering from an ED. The type/reasoning behind it has purposefully been left vague. Mentions of thr0wing up/feeling sick. Sanji wants to help but may do so in a way that not everyone finds helpful. Also he's kind of pushy in the beginning.

A/N: This is a very self indulgent fic based on my own struggles. If it is something you relate to and this helps, I am glad you found some comfort in it/sorry you relate. If you dont, please be kind anyway :) Also this is my first ever x reader fic in 7 years of writing fanfiction.

"I'm full," the sound glass scraping against wood rang throughout the dining cabin as you pushed your plate out of the way, glancing nervously at your lap, "Anyone who wants my leftovers can have them." Luffy reached across the table, already grabbing for the food on the plate. Sanji's hand reached it first, though, and the blonde chef made eye contact with you as he pushed the plate back to your spot. "Y/N, darling," he said. He was smiling, but his stare portrayed a more serious expression, "We don't waste food." You crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes meeting his blue ones, "I'm not trying to be wasteful, that's why I offered it up. I knew someone would want-" He cut you off, smile disappearing, "You need to eat it yourself. It's your favorite, I made it just for you." You nodded once, acknowledging the effort he put in, "And it was delicious. But now I'm full." There was a certain bitterness to your words, causing Sanji to hesitate. The rest of the crew looked on silently, exchanging nervous glances at one another as the scene played out. You barely paid them any notice, keeping your eyes locked on Sanji as you shoved yourself away from the table and stood up. "We don't waste food. So someone else can eat it, I'm not going to."

Your boots thudded against the wooden floor of the ship as you stomped away, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air. You didn't stop until you were at the edge of the deck. The wind whipped your hair around and you watched the sky turn orange against the clear water as the sun set on the horizon. Tears pricked at your eyes. They rolled over your cheeks despite your attempts to sniff them away, so you gave up. You were alone, anyway. No reason to hide your tears out here. They just didn't get it, you thought. Although it's not like you had ever tried explaining it to them before. You never meant to waste food. You just couldn't stop it. No matter how hungry you felt beforehand, your appetite seemed to wither the second food was in front of you. More than half a portion made you feel sick, and throwing your meals up into the sea felt worse than just offering it to someone who would it eat.

"Nice evening, isn't it madam?" You whipped your head around, quickly trying to wipe the tears from your face. Sanji stood several feet behind you, smiling once again, but still with a grim aire about him. "Yes, it is," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady as you turned back towards the ocean, "Very peaceful." You could hear the heels of the chef's shoes clicking against the wood until he appeared right next to you, resting his elbows on the edge of the ship. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him looking at you, studying your features. "I'm still not hungry," you told him, and you couldn't decide whether or not it was a lie. You were hungry, or at least, you should be. But you knew no more food would stay in your stomach for long. Sanji chuckled, dipping his head down, "Well, I gathered that much, love. I just can't figure out why. Only a banana for breakfast and nothing at lunch, by all means, you should be starving." You looked at him, eyebrows crinkled in confusion, "You know what I ate?" "I keep track," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "Helps me with my meal planning. I thought for sure you'd have a good dinner tonight, especially since I made something I knew you'd love." "I did love it," you admitted to him, sighing into the wind, "I just... don't eat much. It's hard." "Hard to eat?" He raised an eyebrow at you, "It shouldn't be, we have plenty of-" "Not like that," you cut him off, waving your hand through the air, "I know we have food, I just can never hold much of it. When I was younger, I forced myself not to eat... and I must have gotten good at it, because now I can't. And I hate it, because I get so hungry only to push food away, and I feel so wasteful." You could feel tears threatening to fall again, so you laughed, trying to act like there was nothing upsetting about the situation whatsoever. Sanji, however, did not laugh. He looked at you with sad eyes, which was even more intense since the wind was pushing his hair out of his face, meaning you could see both of them. It was quiet for a moment, with no noise but the waves lapping at the bottom ship. Then, the chef let out a sigh, opening his arms. You fell into him, burying your face into his pin-striped shirt. His strong arms immediately wrapped around you, his chin resting gently atop your head. "Thank you for telling me," he said quietly, placing a kiss against your hair, "I'm sorry I pushed you so hard." "It's alright," you whispered back, allowing yourself to cry on him, "You didn't know." He squeezed you tighter, "Well, now that I do know, I'm still worried about you. The way you've been eating still isn't healthy. I'll start giving you smaller portions, so you don't have to feel wasteful. And when you're ready, I'll gradually give you more. Like baby steps. Can you agree to that, my dear?" Pain shot through the inside of your cheek as you bit down, thinking his words over. Recovery was hard, but Sanji was willing to help.... You nodded your head, accepting the offer, "Little, tiny baby steps." Sanji laughed softly, running his fingers through your hair, "Sure, little, tiny baby steps. Whatever it takes, love. Would dessert be a good start?" He raised an eyebrow at you, and you laughed, "Well, that depends... what kind of dessert?"

#one piece #one piece live action #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji #opla sanji #opla #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #one piece x reader

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yridenergyridenergy · 5 months

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The wholesome-ish friendship between Shinya and Kyo

Their latest playful Q&A in Haiiro no Ginka vol. 100 has prompted me to compile examples of this weird but overall wholesome relationship that Kyo and Shinya have and which is not obvious at first.

Situation #1

In October 2017, Kyo gifted Shinya with a custom white version of a MadaraNingen one-piece. As far as I remember, that article of clothing was not available for purchase in white at all, to the public. And of course, we all know that Shinya prefers to wear white.

Situation #2

I think that in response to Shinya sharing a video of him briefly playing with the minicars that were sold as tour goods in This Way to Self-Destruction, Kyo posted a story on Instagram of him revving up a bunch of mini-cars and persistently making them hit his phone propped up on a counter and displaying a picture of Shinya. At age 43. To which Shinya made an Instagram post vaguely hinting that: "Good children should not play with the mini-cars to hit someone's picture!"

Kyo's Instagram Story "The proper way to use mini-cars" video

Shinya's translated response

Situation #3

In late 2022-early 2023, Shinya publicly celebrated his bandmates' birthdays via emojis on Twitter, and Kyo was the only one to respond, in kind.

Situation #4

Kyo posted a cryptic picture of Shinya's video meeting with Mana in an Instagram Story and he has mentioned on Twitter at least once that he was watching Shinya Channel (the making of the FaFa onigiri).

In the same vein, Shinya took his failed attempt at needle-felting a pink bunny in March 2022 and turned it into a miniature hammer-wielding bunny in October 2022, in response to sukekiyo unveiling their Mosaic Shoujo PV which featured Kyo in the killer bunny suit.

Situation #5

This very old video of Kyo teasing Shinya by pinching the side of his dress, Shinya reacting by pushing Kyo a bit and Kyo falling into a robot dance in response.

Situation #6

The coffee maker. In one of the live talks held during the COVID-19 pandemic at concert venues, Shinya mentioned having a coffee maker which was of no use to him, and Kyo expressed interest in taking it from him. Later, in the Galacaa livestream talk between the two, it was revealed that Shinya had promised to give Kyo his coffee maker, but he never pulled through on that offer. Kyo, sporting a doodled face to hide his own, insistently questioned Shinya on this unreliability when the topic was brought up by fans in the comments. Shinya kind of struggled but ended up explaning that the coffee maker was really useless because of a defect, that it would not have been an appropriate gift anymore. But he forgot to update Kyo about it after he tried to contact the manufacturer. Kyo replied like: "Oh, alright then."

At some point, Kyo took the matter to Twitter, confronting Shinya about it with their respective member photos to illustrate the dialogue, and Shinya replied the same way.

Situation #7

In that same livestream, Shinya is so used to Kyo's bullshit by now that he completely ignores Kyo's doodle face sheet and casually leans forward to look past him and at the interviewer, sat on Kyo's right. After a while of this, the interviewer points out to Shinya that Kyo is insistently staring at him with this disturbing face, which is when Shinya becomes startled and nervously laughs upon realizing that, also making Kyo chuckle.

Situation #8

More often than others, Shinya and Kyo are documented chatting on the chairs backstage while they wait for everyone to be ready to start the show. Maybe there's something to be said of how they are the two members of the band to leave the stage the quickest, while Kaoru, Toshiya and Die stay for a while to throw picks.

Situation #9

Miscellaneous pictures of the two:

Situation #10

Apparently it was Shinya's earbuds that Kyo used to play with the cat (also Shinya's?) in this famous old video.

youtube

Situation #11

Other interactions on Twitter include commentary regarding the song battles that fans were voting on via that same website, during live broadcasts from their manager Fujieda on Galacaa. Kyo and Shinya were the only two members reacting to the songs that were pulled out of the box, Kyo sometimes replying to Shinya's own tweets wondering what he meant or outright questioning his preference.

Another interaction consisted in Kyo copying Shinya's tweets regarding the release of their Phalaris album and twisting Shinya's cute comments into hellish versions.

Situation #12

Probably a bunch of elusive comments throughout the years, but here's an example of something that Shinya said about Kyo in a magazine interview.

Situation #13

In Haiiro no Ginka vol. 100, the members were asked to send each other member five questions. Some chose to personalize them based on what they actually wanted to ask of the others, while a couple decided to send the same questions to all, but members were not told who the questions came from. Kyo picked up on that anonymous part of the game and when answering Shinya's set of questions, he ended each of his short answers with a second sentence that can either just be the Kansai dialect for: "Aren't you Shinya!", or in other dialects, translates more to: "Shinya, you bastard!" hahah. From what I saw, nobody else hinted at who they thought the questions came from in their answers. In reverse, Kyo took up two of his five alloted questions for Shinya with the simple statement: "You don't know you're dead yet!", a quote from Fist of the North Star which is highly intimidating as it hints that someone has defeated the character so easily and lightning-fast that they are a dead man standing, their body having trouble catching up with the reality that they were slaughtered. Shinya, in response to that repeated tease, stubbornly replies in his polite and formal Japanese that: "No, I'm not dead." Their Q&A with the other members were not nearly that quirky.

... Did I miss any? And there will undoubtedly be more to come!

Thank you very much to shinyaburashka for your help!

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moongothic · 6 months

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You know I was wondering if Crocodile ever did have any kind of involvement with the Revolutionary Army in secret (lest the Government finds out and revokes his Shichibukai status), what kind of involvement would that even have been

And now, with both the Vegapunk/Ohara flashback and Kuma's flashback, it's being made very clear to us that the Revolutionary Army was broke as hell 22 years ago. Like the fact that this has been brought up twice now in a relatively short span of time is interesting to me, that's usually a sign it's not an unimportant plotpoint

But you know who would have had money to help fund the Army

A funny little warlord who would eventually go and build a fucking casino to run for funsies. A warlord who had to give the Government some of his Pirating Income to keep his warlord-status

Like Crocodile hated the Government anyways so why not help fund the Revolutionary Army in secret, out of spite if for no other reason

Vaguely related, but I keep on remembering this scene (post-Enies Lobby), which at first glance just seems like a basic Lore Dump

But then there's the

"Yet..."

(Or "however", she says "no ni" in Japanese and you could translate that in many ways, I would probably have gone with "however" but that wouldn't have fit into the speechbubble)

Mind you, the conversation just kind of ends there, next we see Garp realize he probably shouldn't have mentioned Dragon infront of such a massive audience, so wherever that "yet" was going to lead to we will never find out, because Oda conveniently changed the subject before we got to it

And you know. Like yes, Robin could be just expressing her shock over finding out that the leader of the Revolutionary Army had a child with someone

But also, Robin was a part of an organization that was trying to overthrow one of the founding countries of the World Government in an explicit attempt to go against said Government (compared to like, Blackbeard, who currently wants to make Fullalead into a "pirate country" that's a part OF the World Government)

Like you don't have to be a genius to look at Crocodile's ultimate goals and compare that to what Dragon is doing and find a few similarities here and there maybe

(Also like, Crocodile's equivalent in Romancing SaGa 2 is meant to be Wagnas, the queer-coded leader of the Seven Heroes (whom the OG Shichibukai are based on) who "hoped to help the world". You know, an interesting detail and all.)

Not to mention, during the time Robin spent with Baroque Works, if Crocodile was ever in contact with the Revolutionary Army at all, considdering she has the ability to easily spy on people and that she didn't trust Crocodile one bit, it wouldn't be unsurprising if she ever spied on Crocodile and/or just overheard a phone call or knew about Crocodile having secret spending habits or something

(Mind you, I'm not saying "she knew" Crocodile was involved with the Revolutionaries, more that she might've been Suspecting Things, that "yet" being about her connecting the dots while unsure if her conclusion was right or not)

Of course Crocodile's plans can't have been Dragon Approved by any means, especially considdering the Army had been looking for Robin for over 10 years (pre-timeskip)

Four years of which were with Crocodile. Like if he was FULLY allied with the Army and KNEW they were looking for Robin, surely he would've called Dragon and been like "hey I found the kid from Ohara, wanna come hang out" or something. But no, he had bigger plans and kept Robin a secret from the Revolutionaries and the Government alike

Also like, I have seen people question why the Revolutionaries weren't involved with Alabasta's rebellion at all, and "Oda hadn't come up with the Revolutionaries yet at the time of writing" (/"OP was meant to end at Alabasta at one point so there would've been no reason to introduce the subplot at that point") aside Between Baroque Works being a secret organization working undercover (thus the Army might not have been aware of the civil war being manufactured), the framing of the King making him look bad and very much the type of monarch that deserved to be overthrown in the Army's eyes, and Crocodile maybe lying through his teeth about what was happening in the country... Yeah, the Army's lack of involvement with Alabasta suddenly makes sense

EDIT Minor addition: Just realized that because Crocodile was technically working for the Government, if the Revs ever did send forces to participate in Alabasta's civil army and taking down the throne, the Government could've easily ordered Crocodile to step in to stop the rebellion and take down the Revolutionaries, right? Because he was supposed to be on the Government's side, right? And surely the Army wouldn't have wanted to fight against Crocodile if they were secretly allied (Croc's secret betrayal aside), and if Crocodile refused to fight the Revs the Government could've seen that as a reason to revoke his Shichibukai rights (which wouldn't be great if they wanted to keep Crocodile in a position where he could fund the Army?). So it could've also been a case of it being for the best for everyone's sake to let this one play out "naturally"

But my point is

I'm just deeply intriqued by these little details and wonder if I'm Actually Masterfully Connecting The Dots Like a True Genius or just seeing a pattern where there's none. Like this is far from confirming the theory, I'm just saying, the pieces do kinda fit together do they not

#Moon posting #OP spoilers #chapter 1097 #I'm just saying Crocodile being the Revolutionary Army's Secret Sugar Daddy would be hysterical #Not me having to tag this as OP spoilers because of one and a half panels from the latest chapter lmao #Also Croc and Iva knew each other etc etc everybody remembers that I don't need to point it out #((Although in Impel Down Iva-chan does actually tell Bon-chan about Crocodile being imprisoned at Level 6))#((Saying ''he's crazy too in his own way''. Which is an interesting comment. IDK what to make of it. But it's there))#((Like Level 5.5 was able to access news from outside Impel Down to the point they knew Bon-chan had worked under Crocodile))#((To the point Iva-chan was like ''weren't you and Strawhat enemies''. So like. IDK I'm just Intriqued))#You could also make an argument that this could also tie into Crocodile's good ol' trust issues #'Cause if his involvement with the Army was ever found out he'd have his Shichibukai Rights revoked etc #Also interestingly the Kuma flashback has very much skipped completely the period of time during Luffy was born #Going from the founding of the Army 22 years ago to Ginny's kidnapping 14 years ago #Crocodad Real etc (jk)#You know the derangement is bad when I look at one irrelevant line of dialogue and go like ''is this about my blorbo''#OP Meta

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marlynnofmany · 10 months

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Shore Leave

I didn’t think I was homesick until I caught the unexpected sound of a toddler’s wild laughter from the spaceship bridge. Out in the hall, I whipped around to stick my head through the door with some very unprofessional curiosity. That hadn’t been an alien noise.

Up on screen was our new client who the captain was negotiating with, and also the client’s young daughter. She’d apparently come into Daddy’s room to show the nice aliens on the video call her favorite noisemaker.

“Okay honey, they think it’s great. Go on back to—” the patient father was interrupted by an electronic fart sound on high volume, and even louder peals of laughter from his child. “I’m sorry,” he said to the captain as he scooped up the wiggly youngster and carried her out of frame.

Captain Sunlight waited patiently, every inch the dignified yellow lizard alien who wasn’t about to let someone’s gleeful offspring ruffle her calm.

The human came back, minus the child but with a new food smear on the shoulder of his crisp uniform shirt. Nobody told him. The conversation resumed with nary a giggle, and with me waiting in the hall.

“…By that timeframe or sooner,” Captain Sunlight concluded. “We can’t have your colony going without the comforts of home for long! Farewell.” She held her position as Wio flicked a button with one blue-ringed tentacle, and the screen clicked off.

“I volunteer,” I said.

A lesser captain might have twitched, but she probably knew I was there. “That saves me the trouble of finding you to ask,” she said smoothly, turning her chair. “It’s a big delivery, with multiple cases, so we’ll get a couple others to go along too.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll love to visit a human colony.”

“Though we won’t need too much lifting power,” she continued, “Because it’s a lower-gravity world.”

“Yay!” I said with an honest grin. “That’s even better.”

***

Getting the shipment down the ramp was surprisingly difficult, because the hoversled was calibrated for the artificial gravity inside our ship. Even with Mimi clinging to the control panel as it passed the barrier, the dang thing bounced.

I leaped to pull it down; Paint shrieked and leapt out of the way; Zhee yelled at both of us; Mimi cranked the controls and overcorrected, almost crushing my feet. I leapt back next to Paint, who had already stumbled in the low gravity and fallen on orange sand that was actually a decent match for her scales. I managed not to land on top of her.

“Got it,” Mimi grumbled in that rough voice that always seemed out of place on a guy who looked like an octopus the color of mint chip ice cream. He scrambled off the back of the sled. “Don’t touch the controls until you get back.”

“Understood,” Zhee said, clicking forward to follow the sled. He made the best exit of all of us, only springing upward a little. All those legs probably helped. Bug aliens weren’t known for tripping over their own feet — something that Zhee was insufferably smug about, and something that I would never let him live down if it actually happened. Not today, though.

The minor excitement had made it obvious that the air on this low-grav world was indeed as thin as the scans had said, and there was no point in toughing it out until we got indoors. The three of us got our feet under us and put on the vaguely-uncomfortable breathing masks, then began maneuvering the sled as a team. Really Zhee was doing all of the work while Paint and I held onto the sides and calibrated our own relationships with gravity, but we could pretend. And the long walk across the landing pad gave me a chance to take in the sights.

The landing pad itself was pretty boring; a couple silver-gray ships on one side and a wide stone building on the other. No sign of our contact yet, but the instructions had been to meet at the sun-shelter. So that’s where we went. At a hoppity-bouncy pace that probably would have looked very silly to any local humans if they were out to see us yet.

As we got closer to the big sun-shelter, I could better appreciate the way its shape seemed built to funnel cool air in and warm air out. Also the view off the cliff. I got a good look at that too, over the edges of the flat hilltop that the landing pad covered.

My first impression was: weird desert. Sandy hillsides in reds and oranges, with a sun that was just above those hills, and already hot. A bunch of alien trees scattered around that looked like they wanted to be cacti. They were almost familiar, as if they’d been designed by someone who only had third-hand descriptions of Earth plants to work with.

The low gravity let them get wild in ways that would collapse back home. The tallest ones spread up into the sky in cylinders that bent and quested out in every direction like curious snakes, but at a vast scale. Others spiraled straight up like unicorn horns, or twisted together like lumpy brains the size of a house, or feathered out like thick fan blades with fractal patterns. A couple were probably star-shaped if you cut a cross section, and the sides reached out to make dividers that were probably handy to hide behind in a sandstorm.

I was so busy looking at the cactus trees and trying to decide if they had spines or not that I was surprised when the hoversled stopped. We’d reached the shelter.

Zhee rapped on the door with his pincher arm. It was stone too, and would have hurt my knuckles.

Where is everybody? I thought, looking around at the sun-bright area. It sure is getting hot out.

The door slid wide to the welcome sight of another human, who immediately ushered us inside.

“Come come, bring it in!” she said, waving both hands and bounding aside. Her skin was dark and her clothes were drapey, and she seemed to consider the matter urgent. Given how much the top of my head was starting to cook, I didn’t blame her.

The door wasn’t big enough for the sled. So we unloaded it through the doorway, as quickly as possible, with me sliding close to the human and Zhee standing on the sled and Paint standing behind it to push boxes forward and comment that the extreme heat was kind of nice, actually.

But even she, coldblooded though she was, had to admit that shade was nicer by the time we got everything unloaded. She helped turn the hoversled on its side at the recommendation of the human, who still hadn’t introduced herself. Flipping it around was weirdly easy in the low-grav. Once we got even the sled inside the room — very spacious, that — the human closed the door and greeted us properly.

Yes, she was the contact we were supposed to meet. Taeya, how-do-you-do. Yes, the weather here did get shockingly hot quickly. No, it wouldn’t be pleasant to go back out into that, even for the short jaunt to the ship. Did we have to rush off, or was there time for a cooling beverage or two?

“There is!” I told her. “The captain said we have two hours of wiggle room in our schedule — usually there’s more, but we have some urgent deliveries — anyway, two hours, three tops, because she wanted to, uh, ‘give me time among my own herd.’” I made finger quotes.

Taeya beamed. “Then let me give you a tour! This stuff will keep; the people coming to unpack it won’t need any help from me. C’mon downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” I asked.

She hopped behind the boxes and disappeared, waving a hand to follow. “Downstairs!”

With a glance at the others, I moved forward and floated down the red stone stairs, one hopping step at a time.

And there I found civilization.

Stairs led to streets and storefronts and vast, cavernous halls, all carved out of the rock. It was built mostly around the edges of the mesa from what I could tell, a curving, circular city with lots of air flow that left the central core solid and untouched. It didn’t quite feel like home to me, but it was so impressive that I didn’t mind.

Every boulevard had high ceilings, and even high benches, out of the way of foot traffic. Most of the surfaces were either painted or carved. And everywhere I looked, humans bounced instead of walking — which did look silly no matter how they approached it.

With the drapey, flowing, colorful clothes that everyone wore, it all looked like a society of cheerful wizards. I laughed behind my breathing mask, then asked Taeya if she thought I could take it off. She wasn’t wearing one, but then her lungs were used to thin air.

“Oh yes, I should have said,” she told me with a wave of gold-and-red sleeves. “We have oxygen generators lower down, to keep things comfortable. Along with the top-notch medical suites for keeping an eye on any low-grav degradation. Offworlders tend to ask about that.” She had a distinct twinkle in her eye as she said it.

“How handy,” I said.

Zhee peered judgmentally at the lightfooted humans. “Is that how you handle muscle atrophy? With medical adjustments?”

“Partly,” Taeya said.

“Mushers!” Paint exclaimed at the same time, pointing.

I turned, looking for sled dogs and thinking back to the time Paint had gotten to ride a hoversled while I pulled. I saw no dogs now, but a cluster of rickshaws pulled by people huffing like suburban joggers. They didn’t bounce, weighted down as they were. And their passengers looked like workout buddies urging them on until they got their own turns.

“Partly things like that,” Taeya finished smoothly.

I removed my breathing mask, eyeing a nearby restaurant and a closer flower display, then took a deep lungful of body odor and broke up laughing. When the nearest passersby had moved on, hopefully toward showers, I explained to my nonhuman crewmates that sometimes our own natural smell was unpleasant to us, with insufficient hygiene. Surely I’d told them that before.

“Right, you did,” Zhee said. “I still say it’s a deeply maladaptive trait.”

“I won’t argue with you on that count,” I told him, trying to fan the air casually.

Thankfully the rest of the crowd sported a more pleasant range of scents, and we hopped on down the road.

Taeya had something else to show us before nightfall.

“Nightfall?” I asked with some concern. “We’ve only got two hours, less now. Probably closer to one.”

Taeya responded by making a sharp turn toward a row of window slits, just a few inches wide by several times my height. Outside, the sun was already getting low.

“Oh,” I said eloquently.

“It’s the perfect time to see the flitters come out,” Taeya said with another hand wave. “Come on.”

More bouncing steps, another beautiful hallway full of murals, and another curving stairway down. Then we were, surprisingly, outside.

A sprawling garden of alien succulents covered the ground, with low burrows that I noticed moments before brilliantly-colored creatures began scampering out of them. These took to the sky in flashes of movement, flitting about as the name suggested, for all the world like tiny flying carpets that had been ferrets once.

Paint wanted to know if they bit. Zhee asked if they were food. I shook my head while Taeya told them both no. They were a lovely sight, and that’s all they needed to be. Plus they ate some local pests. Always a bonus.

The air was getting chilly already, to my surprise. Taeya did something deft with her clothes, pinning the drapey bits in a way that looked suddenly much warmer, with all that cloth wrapped around her.

“If you were staying longer, I’d suggest you get a local outfit,” she told me.

I nodded. “If I was staying longer, I’d take you up on that. Looks like a good design.” Clever and foreign, in a way that looked like several familiar things at once while managing to be none of them. And certainly nothing I’d ever worn.

Staring up at the whirling flitters as the light left the sky, I felt oddly sad. So much of this was halfway familiar, not the whole-hearted taste of home that I’d hoped for. But before I could get too maudlin, Taeya waved us back toward the carved-out city.

“C’mon, back into the good air,” she said. “One last thing before we get you back up to your ship.”

I hopped quietly after her. Zhee muttered about the theoretical taste of flitter meat while Paint made stiff-legged lizard hops out of the nighttime chill.

We were only a little ways down this new hallway before I heard music.

I bounded faster.

The great hall that Taeya led us into was lined with people around the edges, standing in rows and sitting on ledges, their voices echoing as they sang toward the center. I spotted instruments at some of the higher seats. People at the bottom swayed in time.

I didn’t know the words. But I knew the sound. A crowd of humans singing together; it was a glorious thing.

This is what I’ve been missing, I thought, breathing deeply. The air here smelled like flowers and spices and laundry detergent, and it was full of the sound of home. A vast roomful of people singing the same song, voices rebounding off the walls and bodies moving in joy.

I glanced back at Zhee and Paint. They both looked a little baffled. I asked over the music, “Do your people do much singing?”

“A bit? I guess?” Paint said. “But not all together like this.”

Zhee shook his head. “Why would you use your voice for music?” he asked. “How barbaric.”

I laughed and turned to Taeya, who was happy to teach me the words. There was even a bit of dancing with the next song, and that was an adventure in low gravity. So was the next. Zhee and Paint patiently observed from the doorway.

Then when one song ended, and a fast drumbeat paved the way for the next, I was surprised to see a number of people vacate the dance floor. I started to do the same, ready to say something about getting to the ship on time.

I didn’t realize that Taeya had left until she returned. She appeared at my elbow with two padded helmets and a smile.

“We’ve moved on to quick-beat time!” she told me over the rising music. “Does your captain need you back right now, or can you stay long enough to try a low-grav mosh pit?”

Our two hours were up and I knew it. I looked to Zhee and Paint, who were close enough to hear the conversation. Paint was sitting on one of the head-height benches. She looked down at Zhee.

He turned his head away, which meant nothing with his range of vision. He harrumphed. “Don’t break anything the medsystem can’t fix.”

“I’ll do my best!” I told him with a grin as I accepted a helmet. “Besides, I hear they have good ones here.”

Surrounded by a mix of old and new, I joined my people in the time-honored tradition of dancing more far vigorously than common sense dictated. The captain had said three hours tops.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #colony worlds #writeblr #science fiction #humans are space orcs #low gravity

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eldritch-spouse · 8 months

Note

Giving Cero a handjob while reading to him our marriage contract and fawning over him

Can I also just say your blog is the love of my life I love your characters and content you put so much heart into it so just thank you and hope ya basements always full of bagels😭💞💞🫶🫶🫶

[Girls, guys and ghouls give it up for the biggest brain in the basement! Also, thenk you so much, that means a lot to me. :'7 <3 Fem reader.]

Cero expected a couple of outcomes when he slid the marriage contact your way and sat at a certain distance as you read.

You could be intelligent, come to the conclusion that he's offering you a better life than you'll ever have otherwise, recognize him as the savior he is and sign it. You could sign it out of fear, not ideal but he'll take it. Or you could throw a little baby tantrum and force him to use less appealing methods of making you reconsider.

He did not expect this however.

Maybe in his fantasies. The type of thing he'd sooner be caught dead than admitting he wastes energy conjuring in his mind.

You liked that contract.

In hindsight, you liked a lot of things, not just the contract. The demonlord had simply been far too busy trying to predict everything at once to notice the way your eyes would sparkle up at him whenever he said anything, how he basically didn't even have to tug you along to this room, how you exuded raw admiration watching every new room of his mansion revealed to you. Typical that, in his own magnificent intelligence, he didn't even stop to gouge your reactions. Regardless, the contract must have been the straw that broke the camel's back, because the moment you signed it-

-By the Rings, Cero didn't even get the opportunity to gloat about the fact that you signed it- You fucking signed it so fast! So readily! So willingly! You're so docile-

You threw yourself at him like a bitch in heat.

Normally, he wouldn't stand for this. Cero doesn't want to encourage this lack of self-control and discipline in his future Queen, it would be disastrous and cruel of him to allow you to behave so beastly. But, perhaps it was the sheer infectious glee in the air, the euphoria, the anticipation, the feelings he's never felt before being so quickly returned in spite of the minuscule speck of doubt that kept rearing its head... It all sparked together in one horrifically uncouth explosion of base urges gnashing their teeth.

The monster tried to keep his composure when he offered you a drink and dragged your chair closer to himself.

Several glasses of Gluttony's finest wine later, he's standing by your side, panting quietly, sharp yet slightly fogged eyes watching your small hand stroke languidly along his twitching length while you read several sections of his written work -It's a fine contract. A bit rushed, but a product of raw talent and passion he's well and truly proud of- Both of you tug at your own clothes to combat the heated friction in the air, and Cero has to hand it to you, your diction is commendable for someone so incredibly drunk on their first taste of Hell's crimson.

" This is marvelous... " You utter after a short pause when turning the page.

Cero schemes the outline of your tits through the shabby rags you call clothing, hips rocking ever so slightly as he considers dragging his cock between them, size difference be damned. You respond by squeezing around him a bit harder, delightfully so. " You expected less from me? " The last word dips into a poorly concealed moan.

Your grin is lopsided. " ... No. "

Cero will deny it with all his strength later, but his eyes rolled a little at that timid confession.

" Very good. " His clawed hand comes to guide your harmless one more efficiently, letting you know how he likes to be worshipped. After all, it's relevant to the next part you're going to enunciate. " Continue. "

The Icon pays close attention to the reactions in your face as you re-read this particular section. Because, while some parts were left deliberately vague, he knows you can pick up on the insinuations behind much of his professional language. He took care to make it tread that thin line between perfectly adequate, easily defensible, yet deviously secretly filthy. How could you ever miss the meaning interwoven in his phrasing when his dick hovers dangerously close to your face?

The more you read, the more you seem to buzz with arousal. Cero doesn't need to be a concubus to understand those clenching thighs and hasty breathing. He bites his lip for a moment, his own excitement beading at the tip of his member, used by you to further slick things along, a lewd sound now accompanying that trembling speech. You're almost picturesque like this- With your rosy lips, that flustered blinking, reduced to a mess by the mere terms and conditions he crafted. Cero would tease you about likely making a puddle on his chair's cushion if he wasn't already biting back snarls of pleasure.

" G- God, I- Fuck... " You whisper, whatever it is that you're imagining bringing a bead of sweat to your visage.

Unable to keep himself straight for much longer, Cero bends to loom over your figure, one hand bracing his weight on said chair's top rail while a boot rests on of the stretcher.

" I'm sure you must be dying to get started, no? Why, you're already practicing! " Some humor bleeds into his poisonous tone, though the King is much too turned on to make it sound as playful as he wished.

A shiver that looks more like a death rattle makes its way down your back and, adorably, you find your tongue tied in knots. Cero all but chuckles cruelly when you can't find the voice to continue reading, mind muddling into blind want.

" I'm... I'm sorry I- I can't... "

" Hush. You're forgiven, inamorata. " There's no shortage of jubilation in the Icon's toothy sneer when you effortlessly allow his digits to beckon your head closer, turning it.

He swipes the pristine pages from the table, the tip of his cock parked at your lips. You kiss him without being told to, already showing a lot of promise, and he casts you a slightly softer look while he buries as much of his length down your throat as you can handle.

" I'll do the reading for us now. "

#Cero oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #not sfw #minors dni

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for being friends with someone my roommate didnt like?

ok this might be long but here we go. Last semester I had a roommate who I liked pretty well, and we had a mutual friend, H. At some point, roomie got mad at h because h had apparently outed someone as schizophrenic.

H is not exactly anti-weed, but she is very adamantly against it for herself and anyone else at risk of psychological complications from it. My roomie was smoking with someone who h knew to be schizophrenic, so h told the group that they were smoking with about her concerns. I don't really agree with the way h went about this, but I'm ashamed to admit I sort of forgot to bring it up with her.

Later, h told me that roomie was avoiding her, and we talked about her possibly apologizing and why it was something roomie was particularly sensitive to.

[I'm afraid there's something missing here, maybe something more that I did to drive roomie away. I dunno.]

Roomie began to avoid both of us, but I didn't realize that it was on purpose and I was probably forcing myself into conversations with them because of that. Eventually, roomie started to move out of our room without telling me. Somewhere towards the beginning of this, a mutual friend? of ours made a joke about them looking for a new roommate. I asked why their books were all packed up, they told me it was because they'd be taking them home for thanksgiving. I thought ok, sounds like a lie, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. I truly had no idea why they would be moving out. I gradually went a little crazy watching them sleep in another room and pack all their stuff up, all the while saying nothing to me about it. I finally asked them about it, and they told me yes, they were moving out. Problem is though I think they might've been upset about something already when I asked about it? But they said they were fine so I accepted that as the truth. Again, I dunno. I think I was rude during this interaction but sadly can't remember anything I said besides yelling maybe the start of a sentence and then cutting myself off.

They moved out the next morning. I offered to help, they asked me not to. I was really upset and, stupidly, decided to take it up with them. That evening when I asked if we could talk, they openly rolled their eyes at me. I know it's stupid and probably the most asshole-y thing in this ask, but that drove me crazy. I said some shit, I don't remember what, but part of it was that I was "disappointed" in them. I don't know what that was supposed to be but it was NOT what I wanted to say. They, understandably, were really mad. I left and, too soon, texted them an apology. They replied, not rudely, telling me they don't want any contact with me, but also said, and I'll paraphrase, that they knew h had told me some things (probably referring to the possible reasons they moved out) and [my] friend is one of the reasons [they] left because they like to lie. This really hurt me because I still have no idea what this was about.

Later on, I'm not sure how much later, I was talking to h while roomie and their friends were in the next room. h was saying some things about the situation that I thought were a little extreme. I don't totally remember the order of events but it somehow ended up that roomie was yelling at h and they said something about h "creeping on transmasc freshmen." H is a trans woman and a sophomore, we are college students. I have a vague idea of who this might be referring to, if not myself or my roomie, who I don't think identifies as transmasc, but h had led me to believe that things ended amicably with this third party.

Anyways this story doesnt totally fit the aita format but I just needed to write it all out. If you're involved in this story, please know I'm trying not to be mad abt it anymore which is why I'm submitting it here, I'm hoping to be told why i'm TA or NAH.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Text

In 120 Hours

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: part three! quick thanks to choke-me-joey and flouraie for the stellar help I asked for and very quickly received! you're brilliant, amazing amazing, big thanks!!

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You learned the hard way that Joe slept with his TV on. Volume set to the number high, what ever the fuck that was - it was loud.

The sound coming from upstairs only stopped when you went for a morning shower, and you thought to yourself, actually, Joe, you better keep that fucking TV on, because this is the perfect fucking time to watch TV now that people in your house are awake.

Getting yourself a good pair of earplugs was going to go onto your to do list of that day.

In the shower you had flashbacks to the night before. Of how Joe seemed to always either be holding two drinks, double fisting it, or none at all, both hands then hidden in his pockets instead. Of how he fiddled with one of his rings with the thumb of his same hand over dinner, making you realise you'd been doing the same thing with yours. Of how he’d spoken to important important people, just for a second, said hi, shook hands, exchanged pleasantries and then immediately went to find you again to stand next to. Of how he'd introduced you to every single person that stopped to talk to him, and he would just give them your name. No occupation. Just, your name, no further information.

You would see their confused faces, and wouldn't hesitate to explain that you worked for Joe. All of them would relax instantly when they learnt you weren't important. There was no need to impress you, and so, full attention would return to Joe as they talked about the film they just saw, all the people it involved, and then about all the things they knew about Joe. People just kept telling Joe things about himself, and it was odd, but Joe acted like they were totally normal conversations to have with random people he'd just met.

You didn’t understand what it meant when they told you, "Joe tends to wander", because every time you stepped away from him, even just to give him some space, he’d search for you. The first time it happened, you were sure it was just to check if you were all right, but then it kept happening. Even when you went to the toilets, you found Joe right outside the doors with an air of soft cluelessness about him as you stepped back out.

But then someone would come up to him, and it’d vanish in an instant.

People loved Joe.

They had good reason to. You understood. Seeing up close how Joe made the most intense eye contact with every single person he spoke to, really listened to them, tuned in properly, you got to see how all of them fell in love with him. Men, women - just fucking everyone.

Made you realise that the spell you were under was a universal one. Good. So it wasn't really your fault. It was all blood on his hands, not yours. And it seemed like Joe didn't even notice his effect on others. He carried a charming obliviousness that only heightened it all. Either that, or he really was that good of an actor.

You mingled a little yourself, found some other personal assistants and after talking about the celebrities you all belonged to – just vague descriptions, everyone was tied back by extensive NDAs, which was fine, you wouldn't know half of the important people anyway – you found there was literally nothing else you had in common with them. They were all nineteen year-olds, dressed to the nines like they were celebrities themselves, all eager to be influencers with perfect insta themes. And you were just a temp, chasing money and if you were lucky, a good time alongside that.

You were lucky. So far everything about this job had been pinch-me moments stacked upon each other and it was already getting hard to reach.

You had two sips of a drink until you saw how Joe was necking his, then decided, maybe it was best if you stayed completely sober. You spent the rest of the evening declining drinks from Joe until you started feeling rude for it.

"Are you having fun?" Joe asked when he started getting tipsy.

"Are you?" you spoke around a laugh.

"I am!"

"Then so am I."

You’d lost count on how many times you’d told your driver sorry after he’d waited outside a random pub for over an hour because Joe had found a couple people that wanted to keep the party going. Cut to two hours later, and Joe was asking people for a lighter with a cigarette hanging from his lips, knowing full well he had one in his own pocket. Joe was drunk, and it was a bit silly how you ended up having to push Joe into the car, onto the backseat, your hands with their fingers spread wide on his butt cheeks because, "Move over Joe, I have to fit in there too."

Joe’d slept the whole drive home.

Joe's day didn't need to start until noon, which is when you'd be picked up to go to a New Upcoming Talent panel that Joe got to speak at. This granted you time to get some things done whilst he slept upstairs still.

You got breakfast. Accepted the Tesco delivery and organized the fridge. Screenshot a lot more furniture for Joe to look at later. Laid out a bunch of sharpies beside a stack of the Eddie photographs - on the kitchen counter, because Joe didn't have a table - because there were five thousand of them, and they all needed to be signed as soon as possible.

And you kind of wished you could sneak into his room to get your hands on those messy suitcases, sort those out, but you weren't that insane. Not yet, anyway.

Joe's schedule said wake-up call at 9:30, and so at 9:30, you called up the stairs,

"Coffee?"

And got a groggy, muffled "Please," in return.

"Knock, knock," you said, not even knocking, but Joe's bedroom door was already open and he was still in bed and maybe that was why you'd been able to hear his TV all night. "Good morning,"

"Morning," Joe forewent the good. He was hungover.

He was lying on his stomach, his duvet only half covering him, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, half hugging his pillow as he watched you place down a coffee on his bedside table.

"What's your favourite colour?"

You just stood beside his bed, and it took Joe a second to fully grasp what you'd just asked him. He looked up at you with squinty eyes, one of them practically closed still.

"What?"

"Your favourite colour,"

"It's," Joe let himself fall back into his pillow. Curls everywhere. "It's too early for that shit, which fourteen-year-old wants to know?"

"This one." you said, pointing a quick finger at your own face. Joe didn't see. "For your house, I'm getting you furniture. What colour won't you get sick off being around all the time?"

"Lime green," Joe spoke into his pillow.

"Fuck off,"

Joe grinned, eyes still closed. Then he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of coffee and remembering it was right there within arm's reach.

"I don't know, do whatever," he propped himself up again, now reaching for his coffee and going in for a sip.

"Careful," you warned, because you really would do whatever.

"All right, give me a second," Joe said, "Let me finish this and have a shower first,"

"Yes, of course!" you said, instantly aware that it was weird that you were in Joe's bedroom, staring at his bare back, shoulder muscles working and on full display, and you started making your way back to the door.

"Breakfast is waiting in the guest room,"

"The guest room?" Joe looked back over his shoulder, face scrunched up in confusion and you guessed in pain from his hangover.

"It's the only room that has actual seating,"

And so half an hour later, you were sat opposite Joe in the room you'd tried your best to sleep in hour earlier, with the bed made to look like you'd never even touched it. At home you never made your bed, but, knowing Joe was going to be sat eating breakfast in this room made you tidy yourself into non-existence.

After Joe asked four times if you had also made yourself a coffee, and if you really had already eaten, he tucked in and you used the moment to show him pictures.

Joe liked everything, which didn't help. So you made him choose between some, and got a sense of what he liked.

"Are you sure that I'm really allowed to just... get you things? Furnishing a house isn't exactly cheap, you know?"

Joe chewed, swallowed a bite, said, "Yea, you've got a card, right?" and went in for another.

You'd been given a credit card to use for whatever Joe wanted and slash or needed. It was one of the fancy ones: shiny, black, didn't even have a name on.

"If you don't give me a budget, I'll max it out,"

"Go for it, enjoy yourself,"

Fuck. Joe was already sexy enough as it was. He didn't need to be telling you things like that, Jesus Christ.

"Can't make it any worse than it is now,"

And you disagreed, but you didn't say anything. Instead you went over the schedule for the day.

Panel. Two film screenings. Industry Happy Hour. Those were the big things. Tomorrow there was an early morning photoshoot, so maybe, let's not do pubs after until late again, you said, and Joe just smiled, said, "There's always pubs after," but you'd given him a face, as the hypercompetent personal assistant that you were, and then he'd just nodded.

That afternoon you were sat in an audience, down near the front, but all the way on the side, and Joe was up on a stage with several other people - none of whom you knew - and it was all questions about being new on the scene. Upcoming talent. What is it like to step foot into this industry? As if Joe didn't already have years of work under his belt. But fine, it was whatever.

The room was packed full of people, and you weren't sure you were really allowed to be there, hogging a seat, but Joe had insisted.

"No, you can go sit, she can go sit, right? Yea, go sit, somewhere on the side, it's fine,"

And so you'd gone to sit and listen, but not before Joe had asked if you had any chewing gum, which, of course you did. Best PA ever, remember?

You got to observe. Joe seemed nervous. You only saw because you weren't following at all what they were talking about - you were just watching Joe, and every time Joe got to answer a question, he'd look just past the moderator and looked directly at you as he answered.

You noticed you started giving encouraging little nods, like Joe was an anxious kid who was about to ask a stranger a question for the first time. You hoped it didn't come off condescending, but it honestly felt like he needed secret little signs of encouragement from you, so you gave them. You were glad Joe got to hold a microphone, because you knew that giving his hands a job meant he wouldn't be constantly fiddling. Like you were.

Later that day, with several pieces of furniture ordered, you were adding delivery times into Joe's schedule, tapping away on your phone as Joe networked, when suddenly a hand moved hair that was hanging down your face behind your ear.

No! Too soft! Too tender! Too close!

"Let's go, we're going for a drink."

"You've got a 6AM wake up call," you warned, not even looking up from your phone as your face burned up, because, what the fuck?! How were you ever going to make eye contact with him again and be normal about it? You already barely were normal about anything to begin with!

"Just one drink!" Joe practically begged, as if you were his mother and you got to tell him when to go home. Did you get to tell him when to go home? You weren't his manager. You basically kind of just had to get him from A to B, right?

"7AM photoshoot, one that'll have your face in," you looked up now, just your eyes, and then Joe flashed you that smile again. That fucking smile.

"All right," you sighed, caving far too easily. "But just one!"

"Just one, I promise. We'll make it a good one."

And then of course, it wasn't just one, obviously it wasn't, because Joe found out that a big director was at the same place you'd just walked into and with a little Dutch courage, he went to sit down next to him and they got to talk film. Joe did better one on one, two beers in front of him, in a familiar place he probably had been going to for years. He seemed relaxed, wasn't going through his drinks at lightning speed, and so you sat at the bar, drank a Sprite, kindly didn't talk to any of the guys that tried to talk to you, and stared at your notes app, the empty page staring right back at you.

What the fuck do people even say when they win awards besides thank you?

You stared at your phone, tried some things, but deleted all of it every single time, until suddenly a hand reached over and a finger typed, hi. You recognised the hand. Of course, you recognised the hand. Had you seen his hands? You'd recognise his hands.

"I'm going for a smoke, can we leave in 10?" you saw the guy he'd been speaking to - Steve Jobs kind of looking dude - step out and join the other smokers outside the pub on the pavement.

"Car's already waiting, so whenever you're ready,"

Joe raised his eyebrows, nodded like he was impressed with you. Except you hadn't really done anything, had you? You had just let the driver know where you were. Was Joe even aware that the car was always waiting for him?

You watched Joe smoke from your barstool where you finished your drink when suddenly, your phone rang.

Joe's management.

"Hello,"

"Why aren't you at home?" someone accused, and you recognised the voice. This was one of the guys that interviewed you.

Um, cool way to say hello, asshole, you thought.

"Because Joe is networking," you adopted the same accusatory tone. They'd been very clear on the networking, had said Joe had to do a lot of it. So surely, this was good. You were doing a good thing.

"Industry Happy Hour ended over an hour ago," he sighed in frustration. "Did we not tell you Joe wanders?"

"Joe's not wandering! I'm looking at him right now! He's talking to-"

"Oh my God, he took you wandering with him?"

You frowned in confusion. Did wandering mean going for unplanned drinks? If that was the case, you wandered in your free time a lot.

"He took her with him," you heard him say to someone else. "That's why- Jesus, okay," back to you now, "He's not answering his phone, please tell him to answer his phone, and get him back home as quick as you can, he's got a-"

"6AM wake up call, I know,"

You didn't appreciate this check-up that was really doing its very best to make you feel inadequate and bad at your job. What were they expecting of you? You had reminded Joe of his early morning start the next day, but he had wanted to go for a drink anyway. So what?

You got a few more questions about expenses made that day, and you explained that Joe asked you to buy some things for the house. You weren't going to tell him that technically, you'd asked Joe if you could decorate literally the whole thing, and he'd given the go ahead without much further thought. What was the use of giving this guy more reasons to yell at you?

"All right, just making sure. I'm sorry, I guess we just assumed someone would be home to sign for some scripts we sent over."

And that was that.

Joe knocked on the window, caught your attention and nodded his head for the two of you to leave.

In the car on the way back, you asked Joe to check his phone, and he groaned when he did. Eight missed calls and three messages asking him where he was and why he wasn't answering.

"I'll call him back tomorrow,"

"No need, he just needed me to tell you to answer next time,"

Joe chuckled, got rid of all the notifications and then put his phone away. You stared out of the window at London passing you by, until you felt Joe's eyes on you. When you turned to look, he smiled politely.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, just like he had the night before.

Did you have fun sitting around, waiting for Joe to finish watching films? How were you going to break the news to him delicately?

"Um... did you?" you asked diplomatically, and it made Joe huff out a laugh through his nostrils.

Actually, you did have fun. Buying a lot of things with money that wasn't your own was a different kind of thrilling. Retail therapy with a different kind of guilt attached. Fun though, still. Definitely fun. You were about to tell Joe, but he beat you when he asked,

"Not that into the attention you got, then?"

You frowned quizzically. When had you gotten attention?

"Oh, come on, I saw at least six guys come up to you tonight, giving it their best shot," Joe revealed and you scoffed loudly. Cool, cool, cool. No, it was fine to learn that Joe had been looking at you for prolonged periods sat on a barstool all night. Definitely, so fine.

"Yea, all right," you instinctively brought fingers to your ring, and you reached for the wrong finger first, before finding it on your other hand and you saw Joe look.

"They did!" Joe argued.

"Stop," you shoved his arm, gave him a look, and you both laughed before you turned back to look out the window, and for a little while it was silent. You liked London at night better than during the day, you thought. Less people. Streetlights on, all of them reflected on the wet streets. Not necessarily quieter in some places, but still nicer, anyway.

"No, it's good," Joe then said. "Don't want you getting distracted when you're supposed to be mine for the week."

And when you looked, he was staring out of the window too, and you couldn't read his face and fucking hell, Joe, what the fuck were you doing?!

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower - (taglist currently full, sorry)

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #fluff #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #in 120 hours #part 3

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areyoudreaminof · 6 months

Text

Future Rust and Future Dust

Prologue, Chapter 1

While Elain and Lucien have settled into their relationship on the mortal lands, time is running out for Vassa. When Koschei comes for the firebird queen, he also wants his payment. Meanwhile, Beron Vanserra has worked with the Mortal Queens and Koschei for power in Prythian. With the clock ticking, can Koschei and Beron be defeated?

It's here. My very first longfic! I plan to have a chapter every up every Monday.

____________________________________________________

The chair was stiffer than he would have liked.

Unreasonably tall and straight backed, it swallowed Greaysen Nolan whole. His head could not clear the top edge while the bottom of his feet barely scraped the floor, and he had been waiting in it for a quarter of an hour. Bouncing his right leg, he stared at his golden pocket watch again.

The hands seemed to crawl on the mechanical face. There was no magic here, he reminded himself. This was a neutral spot, far from Prythian, deep in a protected corridor in the Arbonne Royal Court. Queen Heloise sat to his right, while the Fae High Lord sat directly across from him. The Baron he was called. His dark brown hair was threaded with silver, though it seemed to clash with his ageless face. Greysen studied the fae male, looking for any resemblance to the red-headed son who’d stolen his bride. He could find nothing.

“So, that’s it, then? Briallyn is dead?” Heloise said, choking on vowels in a way that was deeply unpleasant to Greysen.

“That’s it. Fell right into a trap and got herself killed. I presume you have split up her lands amongst yourselves?” The Baron asked in a bored tone.

Heloise drew in a sharp breath. “I thought she had contacts in the Night Court? I thought—”

The Baron chuckled, “No, Your Majesty, I have contacts in the Night Court. She was a runner. My liaisons answer and report to me.”

Greysen knew there were spies carefully placed by the Baron throughout the fae lands. There was someone in a library, he remembered vaguely.

“In any case, Briallyn got too caught up in her own vengeance against the Made female and getting the Cauldron. Had she waited and properly sworn herself, her youth and beauty would have been restored.” The Baron continued, flicking a hand absently, as if he was swatting away a gnat. Perhaps that’s all the crone queen was, Greysen thought, just a gnat.

Was he just a gnat to them? Greysen wondered.

As if he had spoken aloud, the Baron’s sneering voice rang in his ears, “Well then, merchant. Have you any new information on the human lands south of the wall? Last I heard, you were having trouble keeping your ships away from the prisons housing Scythian rebels.” The Baron chuckled as his flat brown eyes caught Greysen in their grasp. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

“N-no, Your Grace. My understanding is that those ships were independent merchants, unaligned with the guild. They have no—”

The Baron barked a laugh. “He truly thinks he’d make a good king with that sputtering,” the Baron said to Heloise, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. “If you hadn’t wasted time fucking your way around the good Queen’s court, you’d have more control over your own ports. Now, let me ask you again. Why are human merchants from your sad strip of land smuggling Scythians out?”

The Baron raised a colorless brow.

Greysen took a deep breath and braced himself. “The Mad General and Queen Vassa have made some alliances. Widows of merchants, mostly,” he corrected, as Heloise took in a sharp breath beside him. “All I know is that they’ve taken some political prisoners and rebels from Bharat and Neva. I don’t know where they’ve hidden them, but they haven’t set foot on my shores.” Greysen finished, trying to hold back a twitch.

The Baron smiled as he gestured to Queen Heloise. “Well, Majesty? Does his explanation satisfy your curiosity?” The queen did not reply, instead casting a scathing look at Greysen, hatred burning in her eyes.

“No,” Heloise hissed. “If that was all it was, there wouldn’t be riots in Tendukorum. The nomads wouldn’t have pushed back our armies into Rask. Her cousin cannot maintain order. Queen Linnea has pulled her forces out. The rebels must have contact with Vassa!”

The Baron scoffed at the queen, whose face had turned a deep shade of purple in her fury. “Queen Vassa goes back to the lake in a month's time. When the first snow falls as the Wolf Moon rises,” Beron continued, steepling his fingers, “I can negotiate for more help with your little…uprising in Scythia. But you, little boy,” he snapped, turning to Greysen, “had better get those nasty little merchants under control. Find the queen’s allies, sink their ships, kill them, I don’t particularly care. If you cannot maintain control, I can easily send a regent down. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

Greysen gulped. “No, Your Grace,” he whispered.

“Good.” The Baron took a long sip of wine, much to the queen's annoyance. “Prepare your ships to blockade the coast. Vassa’s recapture must be smooth. Koschei will take her, and I don’t want anyone heading for the taiga or the lake.” The Baron rose from his chair, and Greysen took in just how tall the male was. The Bareon addresses Heloise over his shoulder as he headed for the large oak door: “You can continue your little scuffle with the ponies. I’d suggest putting them down quickly. Rask has become quite impatient.”

The door swung shut behind him, landing with a thick thud. Though he could not hear, Greysen knew the Baron had vanished back to the fae lands in Prythian.

“He thinks to make a fool of me, does he?” Heloise whispered with pure venom. “He truly believes Koschei will not help me after all I’ve done for him?” The white powder on her face had bunched up in the lines of her mouth and brows, Greysen noticed. “I gave him Vassa! The Baron knows nothing of her heritage, or how much Koschei wanted her. And I delivered her!”

Heloise slumped down in her chair, clenching the leather arms with white fingers. “Any news of the Scythian rebels?” She asked.

“My mercenaries can’t seem to catch General Batu, but we think he may be hiding in Baharat,” Greysen said. “The Brightons have smuggled most of the Scythian soldiers out, and they’ve set up camp along the Scythian coast. They mean to march on the lake, I think.” Greysen closed his eyes as Heloise roared. He opened them in time to find Heloise crossing the room, the tendons in her neck bulging. She grabbed the crystal decanter of wine hurled it against the wall, glass shattering and wine staining the floral wallpaper.

“You were meant to take care of this!” Heloise spat, her finger pointed in his chest. “I should have you drawn and quartered! I should have your lands!" She slapped him hard across the face. Greysen ignored the stinging on his cheek. Heloise began to pace the room, steadying her breath.

“You will kill the Mad General when Vassa is taken. You will do everything in your power to control the little villagers you call people. Am I understood?” Her breath, laced with the stink of hunger and decay, filled his nostrils. A warning.

"Yes, your Majesty. Vassa will be taken to the lake, and I will bring you the Mad General's head." Greysen said, swallowing his fear. "I swear it."

TAGLIST: @asnowfern @wilde-knight @witch-and-her-witcher @acourtofladydeath @born-to-riot @damedechance @foundress0fnothing @iftheshoef1tz @talons-and-teeth @foreverinelysian @gaeleria @helion-ism @itsthedoodle @kataravimes-of-the-shire @krem-has-a-mess @kingofsummer93 @lidiacervos @lucienarcheron @labellefleur-sauvage @melting-houses-of-gold @octobers-veryown @popjunkie42-blog @reverie-tales @rainbow-panda-food @spell-cleavers @thesistersarcheron @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @sassyhobbits @secret-third-thing @separatist-apologist @vulpes-fennec @velidewrites @xtaketwox @rosanna-writer @chunkypossum @mossytrashcan

#elucien #elucien fic #elain x lucien

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accirax · 16 days

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initial thoughts on DCAS episode 7

very notable that this was within the context of being about "love" specifically. (at least) one-sided trevek canon? (i'm not even a huge trevek shipper i just think this whole plotline is funny)

okay, so Yul's foot injury IS real. or at least, he's using it as an excuse to complain. still, the fact that it was brought up again an episode later makes me think that it's going to have SOME relevance to the plot.

any time that Yul has to parrot something in Emily's "you go girlfriend ;D" manner of speaking i cackle. he didn't choose the home decor saying any time is wine time lifestyle, the home decor saying any time is wine time lifestyle chose him.

Grett i am... genuinely confused. how can you possibly think that Yul is actually in love with you? did you really receive THAT little love in your home life? you have no ability to distinguish catty and fake praise for your accomplishments from real ones because your family gave you THAT little recognition? man. now i made myself sad :( ily Grett

okay, confirming that 1) it was Tom's trap, 2) they are willing to eat squirrels, 3) Tom is serving as the provider for the Cyan tribe. all things to take into account for any upcoming Cyan eliminations.

why

and how does said boyfriend feel about you kissing another man on television, Tom? this is a stupid lie.

again, why? it's probably already apparent from my earlier comments, but i changed my mind; i'm fully with Jake in this argument now. sure, Jake is really insecure and overly emotional, but what the HELL is Tom doing? making up a boyfriend is a really shitty thing to do, whether Tom had a legit reason for not calling Jake these past two years or if he didn't contact Jake due to his own mixed feelings/indifference. in either case, he should have told Jake the truth. at least when Jake was acting immature in S1, he was 24. Tom is a nearly 30 year old man. ACT LIKE IT.

Fiore slay

this is a really interesting response due to how vague it is, including in the vocal performance. was he taken off guard by his boss being nice to him? does he believe that she's telling the truth? does he feel bad for Trevor, or will he come to believe that he IS way better than Trevor? i'm glad that they're continuing on with the concept of the hosts having a plotline, because imo that was one of the highlights of S2, but they aren't doing it in a way that eats up as much of the screentime as it did in S2.

if Will was out of the picture i would be shipping these two so hard. who am I kidding, i kind of still am anyways.

Ally's other gf is here :,) glad that they got to reconnect (and neither of them were eliminated for it)

Fiore slay

the confirmation that Aiden thinks that the idea of him having any attraction to Tom is laughable and disgusting is HILARIOUS to me. bro really said, "why the hell would i be into YOU when i have JAMES lmao" straight to Tom's face. tbf, James and Tom are like... opposites in terms of personality and appearance (beyond being generally handsome and athletic young men).

"silly me, i keep forgetting that not everyone met their super cool and attractive boyfriend on reality TV. my bad!" (/pos)

(i tried to type "hubby" instead of boyfriend but i spared you all. it was too cringe even as the one subjecting others to the cringe.)

okay this was very fitting for her. iconic.

honestly, Alec and Riya's villainous alliance/friendship is really fun. leave it to Alec to always find himself in the least likely but most entertaining duos. Riya really benefits from being paired with a legitimate strategist, and someone who won't just let her totally get away with stuff.

we had to get in one last Fiore taking unnecessary damage for the road :,(

feeling like Jaiden is going to be winning the starting couples' survival roulette. and Wishley, to the extent they count.

now i'm no physicist, but how did this work? shouldn't the ball be a fast and heavy enough object at this point that it would jump over the log, not ricochet off of it? i suppose if the ball is made of something more like wicker than yarn, it could be a bit more likely to do that. but then why is it going to the side? it hit the log straight on!

... are you not allowed to help him anymore? what?

ellie is going full villain mode fr. if her and gabby's relationship gets messed up, that would definitely be karma. but, i suppose she survives this episode...

this is funny because nobody strikes me as the pizza and soda loving type. Alec, Grett, Yul, and Riya all seem like people who would want to eat something that's both fancier and healthier.

communication W (for both of them)

Fiore is such a best girl that she's not even a salty juror. she's not mad at them for so long that she can't use her final moments to throw a wrench in the works for everyone else. the grind never sleeps, clowns <3

and she even conquered her greatest nemesis, the bus, this time. fly high, queen. i'll miss you.

well, as a Fiore stan, this episode was a bit sad for me. but, i do totally understand why Magenta would both vote for Fiore and lose the challenge. (damn you, Ellie...) Fiore already did super well in both S1 and the original Adventure Camp, so i understand why they wouldn't have her go super far again in this season, especially when everyone knows she's such a threat.

i just hope that we can still get a little more closure for her and Alec than we got already in this season. all it has to be is, like, him being sad at her elimination for reasons other than pure strategy and maybe a nice conversation at the finale. it doesn't have to be Alec finally adopting her... even if i did want that to happen... i'd just prefer to know that they leave things on good terms.

anyways, another really solid episode! i look forward to the next one. thanks for reading!

#disventure camp #dcas #disventure camp spoilers #dcas initial thoughts

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mywritingonlyfans · 1 year

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Longshot // Alex Turner X Reader!

this fic about: you always have the urge (fate, honestly) to meet Alex from time to time in the midst of moments in your life, but you never stay close to each other for a long time, after all, he is not your boyfriend. There's smut in this one!

words: 4,6K.

Your head hurt, you knew your face was probably red due to your desire to go home and cry, but yet, you convinced yourself to go out for a drink.

Somehow, you found yourself happy for doing so.

You couldn't tell Alex was back in town, you briefly wondered why you didn’t know. He always contacted you when he was near (or at least that was what it seemed to be). Still, you were glad to see him there. He was always able to make things better, even if only for a short period of time; which in your case was a very short one as he wasn’t yours to have.

Alex waved to your friends, they were all familiar to him. He hugged you, giving a small kiss to your head while sitting next to you. Suddenly, you felt like a stronger drink would do you good.

It wasn’t hard to tell what was going to happen in the next few hours. After a couple of years going through that, you knew the time you spent together always ran the same streets. You guessed that you were able to put his head in place, just as he did with yours; and that was why he always came back to you. You’d never be able to tell if it was luck or mischance.

“Was it too hard to find me?” You asked him, frowning in a happy face.

Around now, your friends had moved to another corner. “I mean, I’m not complaining, I’m glad you did.” You offered him a weak smile. He did the same.

He looked tired, yet deadly cute. He had longer curls and no beard anymore.

He shuffled his chair closer to yours, letting his leg touch your bare knee. “Not really, Miles said he called you in the mornin’, then told me that you intended to visit ‘ere for the night,” he mumbled, blinking eyes to the bartender that he needed a beer, and so did you.

“Oh, he’s a gossip,” you wrinkled your nose, causing him to offer you a nasal laugh that you had learned to find lovely over the years. “But what has been happening in your world? You’re good?” You tried to sound casual, but deep down you knew he wasn’t there entirely for you.

Something was bothering him, he was looking for someone to rely on.

“Pretty much the same,” he sighed heavily, sitting better on the chair while rolling the t-shirt cuffs to his elbows.

In the face of this, your throat dried up in anticipation.

He wasn’t just physically tired. “We finished the last album, I feel exhausted.”

He looked at you like a lost puppy, watching your face, taking in if you were in the mood to listen to him and even if you were fine with having him around. After all, he came to you out of nowhere.

He’d never make you uncomfortable, maybe he couldn't tell that yet. “C’mon, let it all out. I haven’t seen you in such a while for you to deprive me of the details.”

“If I tell you,” he pondered, “ you’ll tell me why you have that runny nose that matches your watery eyes?” He poked your cheek, dragging his fingers so he could put some strands of hair back in place.

You cuddled up in his palm, like it was their right place.

His chair was so close to you that you’d be able to rest your head on his shoulder if you wanted to (without creating any bodily discomfort, not that you were capable of that).

“I guess life just hasn’t been all that gentle with me lately,” you giggled. “I lost my job last week, the same life shit’s going on as usual, and when I finally manage to move to a decent place, I’ll now be actually going back to sharing an apartment with strangers, because, huh, y’know, I can’t afford being in there anymore.” Your breathing has sped up and you have indeed had to hold some tears to the vague memory.

Alex was quiet for a while, you needed him more than he needed you, it wasn’t hard for him to tell that. Listening to you made him realize how his worries were nothing at all, not in a mean way, but made him wonder why he wasn’t always around for you when he felt like could/should. He knew that you didn’t mind sharing an apartment with someone, but the loss of perspective was always tough.

Without further thinking, he pulled you to himself, so subtle yet so significant, fluffing your hair and holding you tight in his grip. You let yourself get involved in his essence, wrapping yourself in his t-shirt. You didn’t cry, but you knew it was possible to read your emotions – at least for him to do so. It could be little, but Alex knew you.

You took your head off his chest while he still had his arm around your waist. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your laced fingers. You couldn't properly look at him. “I guess it’s all happening at the same time, I’m just not sure how to handle it at the moment.” He held your face in his hand, his mouth close to yours as he ran his thumb over your chin and as soon as your breath met, you felt his lips on yours.

He was soft and wet, he had the same taste you still had etched in your mind, at that moment it seemed to be all you needed.

When he walked away, he was left a few pecks in the corner of his mouth as his forehead rested upon his, making you sigh to feel his hair on your face.

You two stayed like that for a few minutes and you could bet that anyone who passed by could see how much of a fool you were for him. You tried not to think about it too much, it was better to have little of him than nothing at all. “Al?”

“Huh?” He murmured with his eyes closed, giving your lips a tickling sensation.

“Kiss me more,” and then he did.

Alex was holding you in place while your hands intertwined around his neck. You played with the chain around it, savoring the touch of his tongue on yours, focusing only on him while pulling at his hair to hear his soft moans.

It didn’t take long for the bartender to come and get your attention. You laughed nervously at him, you were embarrassed because you didn’t even remember where you were, still Alex seemed untouchable about it, even though he was dead red on the cheeks. He wasn’t one to be embarrassed over small things like that, at least not around you. The bartender was quite irritated with you and just now you noticed that your drinks had arrived and hadn’t even been touched; the guy was rightly pissed.

Alex stood up, lifting you up with him. You looked in your pockets for your money, but then Al got you. You’d argue, but you thought better and any money left over would be useful. You held both beers in hands as he paid, thanking the old lady for the service, still feeling your skin burning due pure embarrassment, and then headed outside to wait for him.

“Are you drivin’?” He asked, laughing at your state of awkwardness.

You bumped into his shoulder slightly, laughing along with him. “I am not, I’m living nearby,” you whispered as he put his hand inside your skirt pocket, bringing you to his side for a walk. “In the apartment that soon won’t be mine, but, huh, how ‘bout you?”

“Not driving’, I thought ‘bout staying somewhere for the night.”

He was close to home, but not that close, it’d take about 3 hours to get to where he lives; it seemed plausible that he wanted to stay. “Are you only here because of me?” You risked asking.

“Yeah,” he took his hand out of your pocket and ran it through his hair, face properly red. “I didn’t think it’d be a bad idea, I think.”

There was silence, but it was so far from being uncomfortable. “You know you can stay with me.”

***

Considering that you were in the process of moving to another place, your house was a bit of a mess. Alex wouldn’t be bothered by that, somehow your instinct of needing things always in place - aka Monica from Friends - made you wander around the space in an attempt to make Al at home.

“What ‘bout the new album?” You asked, dragging one of the boxes away from him.

It wouldn’t even bother anyone, but the thought that it’d be in the middle of the room while someone was at your house bothered you.

“I don’t really know, I feel anxious about releasing it. It’s not that I don’t want to release it or am afraid of doing so, far from that, it’s just, I don’t know…” His voice fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. So typical and amiable of Alex.

You turned to him, wanting to ask him what he had said, after all, that didn’t sound like him, to be insecure. You felt as his hands touched your hips, pulling you on his lap. “Y'know, I don’t care about your mess at all, right? Just, please, stop walkin’ ‘round the house dragging your stuffs, darlin’.” He said with his face close to your neck, hugging you from behind. His warm breath was in contact with your soft skin, providing heat to your body.

And well, there was a minimal percentage chance that you were trying to make the place look good for him but just because he made you a little nervous.

“Okay, fine. I’m fine,” you exhaled, turning to face him. He was smiling with his eyes almost closed; he still looked tired, but at least you were improving his mood. “You know you’re good at what you do, Al. You shouldn’t worry 'bout those things.” You held on to his shoulders, breaking something that could turn out to be a pitiful silence.

He squeezed your thigh at the same time as he laughed humorlessly at your words. “I know that. I guess that this is the short time they gave us to finish the album – it was drivin’ me crazy. The album isn’t bad, not at all, it’s honestly very good. We did an incredible job, still if it weren’t for the time, oh babe, it could have been even better. That’s crazy how I’m still letting myself get stressed over this, don’t you think?” He vented, moving his hands up your skirt.

“I know it’ll be good, I can’t think of anything you did that ended up bad, love!” You ran your fingers over his covered shoulders, down to his chest, going to the first open button of his silk shirt. “But if it’s just stress, well, I can help ya.”

He lubed his lips, nodding assiduously, putting you properly on top of him. That way, you were stuck to his body, feeling the roughness of his flare jeans along with the zipper against you. You gulped as he held your face, sealing your lips with his. You were relieved he always guided you through that. The leading up part was way better when it came from him, not least because he was pretty much able to leave you without the senses with so little.

You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt in the middle of sloppy kisses and grips. Then, you ran your hand over his belly, tracing your fingers to the back of his neck while moving your hips lightly. You lugged on his hair, pulling him away a bit to catch your breath. You opened your eyes to find Al with deep pink lips and brown eyes more intense than normal, at that moment you could have sworn that he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You spread his shirt to the sides, sensing your body getting hotter, when he smirked at your rush, managing to hold both of your hands behind you, forcing you in place.

“No need to rush, we have plenty of time, lil’ one,” he clenched you in his hands. You arched your back, breathing heavily at each pressure of his fingers on your wrists.

He ran his nose over your neck, placing kisses and bites on the way to your collarbone, leaving wet tracks that would later turn into dark marks.

Your legs ached from that position, the couch wasn’t the best, but feeling Alex getting hard under you as you writhed yourself against him, made you want to stay there for as long as he wanted you to. It was crazy to think that at the beginning of the day you were sure that the rest of it would be a pure disaster, and now being spoiled by his lips your worries were gone.

Temporary as that would be, you were determined to give him your all, making his and yours next hours one of the best escapes from both of you.

Unnecessary to say that you were lost in your own mind, craving for having his soft curls in-between your fingers, wanting him tugged into you furiously, causing you to ache.

Your mouth was ajar, your vision was just white dots as he played with your sensitive skin, driving you insane. And then, Alex paralyzed when his grip became too strong around your fists and you got louder than usual.

“D’you like that, huh?” He did it again, but this time pushing your body backward, giving him a better look of your state. He kept his devilish grin on his face, watching you from top to bottom. You bit your lips, containing your noises to yourself, you were such an angel in his eyes. “Up, babe. I need to see something.” He didn’t let you answer, not as if he needed to. You stood up in front of him, legs shaking with your head definitely not in the right place. “Undress, please.” He rested his elbows on his knees, like you were his little show.

He had an immovable jaw in a serious face, and just like that, you didn’t see any problem in obeying his voice, but perhaps, due to the lack of his body being glued to yours, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I tell you what to do,” he caught you by the hem of your underwear, helping to take it off while you got rid of your blouse. “Especially, when I just got you off my lap, almost unconscious 'cause of some kisses on the neck, pet.” He added, drawing circles on the inside of your thigh, smoothly going up to your center.

You felt your breath come to a halt. “You’re just too bossy.” You teased, confirming that your breathing was faulty.

He patted his nose over the damp stain of the fabric, placing a wet kiss there. “And you love it.” He pecked you a few more, teasing you by running his fingers on the edges as putting the cloth to the side; never touching you where you needed him.

Taking a deep breath, you've had to hold back a groan; letting the urge to have his tongue and the tip of the nose rubbing you stick to your mind only.

Involuntarily you took hold of his hair, bringing him closer to you. And then, you understood his previous question, it wasn’t just about not being able to touch him, but also about the power he was having (always had) over you.

He cut his actions short and got up, hovering over you. “Is that ‘kay, darlin’?” You agreed, mouth dried up, without even being able to words. “So no touching me then, huh?” He whispered, tossing your hair behind your ear, aware of the challenge he was casting upon you.

That’d be comical in any other situation, but with his body and eyes fixed on your frame you felt in his pure domain.

You nodded, diving into the way he pulled at the hair on the nape of your neck firmly so that you were looking at him. “Go on, babe,” He insisted on having the words he wanted.

“Yep, fine, Al,” it was far from fine, you couldn’t do that.

How could you go without touching, making a mess of his hair or marking your nails on his back?

“That’s my girl,” he praised you in between sighs.

He was excited while your face was overflowing with nervousness; not out of fear, but out of curiosity. He finished taking off his shirt and indicated with his fingers for you to lie down on the couch.

You shut your eyes tight, with his voice echoing 'my girl’ inside your head. Alex was lugging your wrists above your head as you did what he told you to do. He tied them with his shirt. “Is this hurtin’ you? Feelin’ comfortable?” He tightened it in a knot.

Your head and elbows were on the arm of the couch, only your hands were unsupported. Although you weren’t uncomfortable, it was to be expected that pain would appear the next day; yet it’d be worth it. “No, it’s fine. I’m good.” You assured him as he knelt beside the couch, running his hands down your torso, making you squirm.

He went down to the hem of your underwear, taking it off with the help of your legs kicking the lace away. “Good then,” he warbled, pattering lines on your under belly. “Needy and in your proper place.”

“Bastard,” you swore through clenched teeth.

He grinned, admiring how your breast rose and fell in a quick but punctual rhythm as your hips fidgeted at his touch. You looked like a piece of art he had just created, swollen lips, filled in lovely marks on the collarbone. He found himself in need to concentrate on his breathing while watching you, to control his pulse as he reached between your legs for further care.

“Al,” you breathed out, forcing your fists in vain. “Go on, please,”

With that, he held your hands, forcing them down and slid a finger inside you. Your lips opened in a sigh and he took the opportunity to kiss you, running his tongue over your bottom lip and nipping it to his mouth, keeping things on a slow pace.

You wanted to hold his hand, make him go faster or be able to pull the locks of his hair until he understood how much you wanted him, but you had no way of doing that, and you knew he was doing that to provoke you.

His lips traveled over your neck again, this time giving light kisses, blowing air on the soft fresh he had left in there.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said without even opening his eyes, delighting in your skin as he sped up, rubbing his thumb gently over you.

You whispered something almost inaudible that he recognized as his name. He raised his head, coming face to face with you. “Right there, huh?” He asked, focusing on the spot that was blurring your vision, without speeding up, just kissing you more.

You moaned with the satisfying running fast through your veins, making you go numb in the knees. You closed your legs, wishing you could hold on to his body, but all he did was laugh, shoving his fingers even leisurely into you.

“No, no, Alex,” you looked at him properly, thinking that if you hadn’t been with your wrists tied you’d have slapped his chest hard.

He wiped his hand on your thigh, and stood up slipping his jeans down his legs along with his underwear. You sighed at him, stretching your arms, staring at the ceiling to disguise yourself. Not that it was necessary, but Alex was already too much of a show-off when it came to you for your liking.

“You good? How’s your arms?” He asked with his attentive eyes over your face, Soon, he was on top of your weak body.

His hair was damp, falling over his forehead. Sweat was glued to his chest and his silver necklace dangled in front of your eyes. For a split second, you thought about saying that you missed him, but you were wise enough to know better than this.

“If I say that I’m not good. Are you going to untie me?”

He pressed his chest to yours, your body sticking to his due to the sweat.

“There's not even a single chance,” He stroked your neck with his thumb, up and down, with a silly look on his face.

You grunted as soon as you felt him against your thigh, he placed himself in-between your knees, holding on to your shoulders, and without hesitation, he filled you up. Your body tingled and your voice failed, causing a silent moan to slip from your lips. His head fell over the crook of your neck and you could feel how dysrhythmic his breathing was. His warm body along with his breath hitting on your neck added a pleasant feeling in your stomach, leaving you dizzy under him.

“Move Al,” you tried to sound understandable, embracing his waist with your legs.

He thrusted deeply into you, leaving a groaning sigh of relief in your ears. You stretched out your arms, tightening your thighs around him. He held the shirt in your hands, preventing it from coming loose.

“No, I wanna touch you,” you whined.

“You will, just be patient, babe,” he squeezed your wrists in his hand.

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the way his body was over yours, every movement and delicate touch.

He went slowly at first, making sure you were taking all of him, every inch, before going faster. Once he felt your walls clenching around him, he murmured a breathless 'fuck’, letting go of your hands so that you could finally feel him. You dug your nails into his back, kneading your body against his at the same time as he hugged you.

As you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, with an intense gaze, building you up so you were feeling nothing but sexy and wanted.

Both of you were a mess; sweaty and sticky. You felt a tingling ecstasy take all over your body, your toes twitching as you emptied yourself into him. He kept working on you until his body collapsed into yours, filling you up to perfection.

The last thing you remembered was having your fingers entwined in his hair, patting at it slightly as he whispered sweet nothing against your skin; just like a lullaby.

———–——-

You woke up to the television, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the daylight.

Failing to stretch, you felt how sore your body was.

Your eyes searched for Alex, finding him sitting opposite to you with a lazy grin and a cup of tea in hands, his attention was all on you.

Friends was playing on the television, but you doubted he was watching it.

“Good mornin’, babe,'' his husky voice echoed through the room. It was the best thing to hear in the morning, honestly. “How’s it? Hurtin’?” He asked when you started examining your marked wrists.

He was fully dressed and although you weren’t, he had managed to get a sheet to cover you.

“Good mornin’. It’s fine, well, huh, it doesn’t hurt,” you mumbled, scratching your eyes, curling up on the sheet. And as much as you wish it could last more, you asked. “How long will you be stayin’ in town?”

“Not long,” he paused thoughtfully. You already expected that he wouldn’t be with you for longer, still sometimes you liked to think that it’d last longer than just a few nights before he disappeared to another continent. “I need to go home in a few minutes, I’m going to take a flight at night to adjust the final details of the album in LA.”

“Sounds nice,” you wanted to have the courage to tell him how he made things in your life look just right, as if he were some kind of missing piece from your damage puzzle. “I can’t wait to hear it, hear what your great fingers and mind are capable of.” You ignored your thoughts. He laughed.

However, you truly believed that not saying anything was a wise move.

He lifted a cup from one of the boxes next to him, holding it out to you. “I made one for you too, I 'ope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved the way he made himself at home so quickly. The home that soon wouldn’t be yours anymore. You wished Al could remedy your worries for more than just one night.

“Thank you,” you took the still warm drink in your hands, looking at him as if he were part of your decor. “You can smoke in here, I don’t mind that either,” you spoke up. You couldn’t even imagine that he’d have gone without lighting a cigarette all morning.

“The place is all clean, and smells nice. I bet you never lit one yourself, I wouldn’t do that.” He was right.

“Well, y'know, I don’t care about the smell, I just don’t see the need to leave the house impregnated with it.” You explained, remembering that his place was a perfect description of that smell, yet you loved his warm flat.

“I know this's going to sound stupid,” he started. “But if you can’t find a place in time to live in, y'know, you can stay at mine. Well, I mean, you know I am never home much and as I’ll be travelin’ you could make yourself at home.”

He said it casually, and you knew he wasn’t lying. If you wanted to, he wouldn’t even think twice about letting you stay at his.

“No need, I’ll be fine. I do appreciate it though.” you took a sip of your now cold drink.

He bobbed, checking what you thought could be the time on his phone.

“You have to go, I'm afraid?” You asked, your soft voice revealing you didn’t want that.

“I need to,” he gave you a small smile, getting up. “It’s gettin’ a bit late for me.”

“I see,” you went to him, adjusting the sheet on your body, feeling ridiculous for still being undressed. “I guess I’ll see you, right?” You added it while he picked up his stuff on the couch; keys, wallet and the pack of cigarettes. There was no answer for your question.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, heading to the door. “You could come and visit, spend a few days with us. It’d be nice.”

“To LA? For the album thing? Like I'm one of your groupies?” You wrinkled your nose, jokingly. His arms wrapping around you. You’d miss it.

He squeezed you into his chest, his growing beard tickling your cheek. “You know you are much more than just a mere groupie for me, babe.”

You didn’t answer that. He pulled away and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“See ya, darlin',” instead, he kissed the top of your head. “Think 'bout it, both about comin’ to visit, but also, 'bout needing a place to stay for a while.”

“I for sure will, thank you, Al,” you watched him, from his rumpled shirt to the red and cute circles under his eyes. He’d always have a special space in your heart. “Well, I think I’ll see ya then.”

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #alex turner smut #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you

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blackyote · 2 years

Text

"Hunter." It was mildly disorienting hearing a stranger say his name, but a second later Hunter realized it was just the coffee lady calling out his order. He stood, pushing the chair back, and weaved past a couple human girls his age to reach the counter. He grabbed his drink... and very nearly dropped it when one of the girls let out a loud gasp. He tensed, looking for the threat, but she quickly went, "Oh, sorry! It's just— your eyes!"

"Oh..." His free hand touched his face unconsciously. This wasn't the first time someone had commented.

The girl looked ecstatic. "I've never seen pink contacts before! That's so cool!" Her friend gawked alongside her.

He smiled uncertainly. Luz had already drilled him on this, since he hated the feel of shades with a beanie, and they had deemed the latter more important.

"Man, you can get anything custom these days," the other girl said. "I bet you could get, like, cat eyes or something if you wanted."

"Cat eyes would see in the dark better," he supposed, and the girls giggled. He frowned, confused.

"You don't go to Gravesfield High, do you?" the first girl asked. Her smile implied something, but he wasn't sure what. "There's no way I'd miss that face."

His frown deepened. Sure, his scar made him stand out, but he didn't like people commenting on it. "No. I'm, uh— visiting."

"Aww, that's too bad."

As though sharing a psychic link (that wasn't possible in the human realm, right?), the girls lifted their drinks to form a barrier, whispering to each other behind them. If you could call it whispering.

"You ask!"

"No, you!"

"Oh my god—"

Deliberation over, the second girl went, "Um. You can tell me if I'm being rude or whatever, but I was just wondering... Your scar..."

So they were looking at it. "Sword fight," he said.

Judging by their mouths falling open, this was an even bigger surprise than his "contacts."

"A sword fight?? What—?"

Was that strange here? In a world without magic, he wouldn't have thought so. "Yeah. I was training to become a scout."

"A scout? Like a BOY Scout?" The first girl looked vaguely horrified. She turned to her friend, wide-eyed. "That's not a thing, is it?" Then to Hunter. "I thought boy scouts just, like, made fires and went camping and stuff!"

Hunter scratched his head. "We do that, too." Here he finally looked to his friends for backup. Both seemed poised for action: Gus vaguely worried, while Willow was watching intently, her eyes hard. Did he do something wrong? Hunter was about to stammer some excuse to leave when-

"Where are you from?" the second girl asked, incredulous.

"Uh. Chicago." He prayed they wouldn't press him for details. He could barely find it on a map.

"Pfft. Figures."

She took out her phone, started typing something. "Well, hey. You're probably busy, but if you wanted to hang out before you leave, I could give you my number maybe? I mean, I gotta hear more about this boy scout troop, that's wild."

"Uhhh..." Thing was, he absolutely could not do that, and someone seemed to sense his rising panic. It was Willow, suddenly at his side, assertively hooking her arm in his. His face flushed at the unexpected closeness.

"Sorry, girls, he's taken." And with that, she marched him back towards their table, feeling baffled but relieved.

"Taken? Taken where?" He could hear the girls sputter in indignation behind him. Meanwhile, Willow's cheeks had gone pink as his eyes.

"You just—" She stumbled over her words. Not like her. "Looked like you needed rescuing."

"Yeah. Thanks." He sat down, puzzled, and looked from Gus back to a still-pink Willow. "What does "taken" mean?"

But Willow only buried her face in her hands while Gus cackled unhelpfully.

-------

Inspired by Toni’s super cute art!

#the owl house #hunter toh #toh hunter #willow park #huntlow #my writing #had to get the brainworms out

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dioxazinereads · 11 months

Text

Congratulations, You're a Dad! Ch1

Before you read this, please keep in mind that English isn't my first language and that the timeline in this is vague. Expect the RE cast to be OOC, and that the whole virus shtick confuses me, so sorry if I got it wrong.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Chapter 1

This was supposed to be a simple mission.

Grab the files and leave.

Kill a few wayward zombies here and there.

Maybe meet Ada again.

But other than that, it was supposed to be trouble free.

Leon should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as that.

Especially with a track record like his.

But this was just bizarre.

(e/c) eyes stared at him from behind a tree. And Leon stared back, watching as the little child peek out from behind the tree before retreating back when they saw that he was staring and peaking out again when they thought he wasn’t looking anymore.

Leon could feel a headache coming.

Approximately 14 hours ago, Leon was at home half way through his 4th bottle of whiskey when Hunnigan called him for another mission, 3 weeks after he finished the last one.

Honestly, Leon was surprised when they took so long to contact him again. Usually, they’d give him less than a week’s rest before sending him out on another one. Such was the burden of being the top agent of the D.S.O.

Even more surprising was the mission he was getting assigned to.

“A retrieval mission?” Leon asked, pouring himself a drink. He took a sip of it, licking his lips before asking, “Who is it this time?”

“It’s not someone. It’s a file.” Hunnigan replied. “Very important ones, might I add.”

“And how important is this file that you're sending me, of all people, to get it?” He downed the whole glass before pouring himself a new one. He’s almost finished his 4th bottle, should he stop? Nah.

“According to our intel, there used to be an Umbrella lab underneath Coral Island.” Hunnigan replied, and Leon could hear her type something on her computer before continuing. “The citizens were unaware of the lab’s existence until they were searching for refuge from the infected.”

“And you got this where exactly?” Leon asked, finishing his glass and picked up the whiskey. He was about to pour it into the glass before deciding that that’s taking too long, and drank straight from the bottle. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand still holding the whiskey. “I thought communications were cut after the island was contained?”

“It was.” Hunnigan confirmed. Leon couldn’t see her but he imagined Hunnigan nodding when she said that. “Some of the survivors found a working boat and escaped the island. They were caught by US officials and were promptly quarantined and questioned.”

Ah, yes.

‘Quarantined’.

Sure they were.

Head tilted back, Leon downed the remaining whiskey, shaking it for good measure once he finished it. He placed the bottle back on the table and sarcastically said, “I’m sure they were welcomed with open arms and a party.”

Hunnigan, like a champ, ignored Leon’s words and continued on, “According to them, despite the lab being abandoned for years, it was notably clean.”

“Well, yeah.” Leon cut in. “It’s a contained area after all. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want something like dust and open air to fuck up their experiments.”

“Sealed rooms can get dusty still.” Hunnigan explained, not even bothered by Leon cutting in. “Further in the lab, they spotted infected scientists. And instead of, venturing further, the survivors went back to the surface-”

“Smart.” Leon said after sipping his 5th bottle. While Hunnigan recounted the events to him, Leon went to his stash of whiskey and grabbed another bottle which he was now drinking. “Don’t venture into places you know nothing about. Especially underground labs that would require passcodes and ids.”

“..and founded a refugee camp.” Hunnigan continued despite Leon cutting in for the 2nd time. “Your mission is to investigate the labs for any documents about future projects and/or the T-virus that plagued the whole island.”

The urge to be an asshole outweighed the resigned and tired agent.

“What if I don’t go?” Leon asked, leaning back on his chair, legs crossed while he tapped the whiskey bottle. He should not be doing this. Especially not to Hunnigan, who’s had to put up with his shit for years.

“Your plane leaves in 3 hours.” Hunnigan said, ignoring Leon’s words like it was second nature. “Pack your stuff and leave as soon as you’re ready. Additional weapons will be at your disposal at the airbase. Hunnigan out.”

And the call ended as soon as she said that, leaving Leon to his thoughts.

He did not like that.

Leon turned off his phone and chugged down the remaining whiskey before standing up from his seat. He placed his phone on the table and picked up the 4 other bottles on the table and disposed of them.

After that, Leon headed to his room and picked up a duffle bag, his clothes already packed. He barely needed the bag nor the clothes in it, but he has once used it and that’s all the reason he needed to keep up with the habit.

Besides, it was better to be over prepared than underprepared.

Once everything was locked, Leon left the house, thinking about the bottles of whiskey he’d be drinking once he’d return.

That is, of course, if he’d survive this time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I'll be honest, I have no idea where this is going. I just have an idea that I want to write and zero plans how to execute it.

Another thing to note, I have an AO3, however I'm scared of the AO3 curse. So I'll only post this story here.

If you guys like the story, please don't post it on other websites unless I said so.

Also don't expect any post schedule, I'm writing this as it comes to mind.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #dad leon kennedy #re2 remake #re4 remake #I don't know which Leon era this is

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