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silens-oro · 2 months ago

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Well Enough Alone: Part I

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk juggles her life between Julia, Julia's son J, and the Cody family. Slow Burn. Word Count: 5,335 (lmao I'm cooked) Content Warning: No description of the reader, other than the nickname. Warnings will be updated chapter by chapter. Mentions of cps, drugs, overdoses, death & prison. A/N: Thank you to everyone who gave support on the prologue (linked above). This fic is a passion project that I hope you'll enjoy! As always, my inbox is open.

The chatter around Smurf’s dinner table stopped on a dime after Hawk’s question. Has anyone heard from Pope? After a particularly upsetting visit to Julia’s, it got her thinking about him. He had been gone six months and those six months seemed to pass relatively quickly for her. Of course they did. She wasn’t locked in a cell with god knows who, surrounded by people that wanted to beat her ass -or worse. Hawk couldn’t imagine how he survived every second that passed in Folsom.

Baz, Deran, and Craig looked at Smurf, then looked at Hawk. She eyed Hawk carefully and Hawk was the first to break eye contact, knowing how the pecking order went under Smurf's roof.

“Just wondering if anyone has gone to see him is all,” Hawk muttered, going back to the chicken on her plate.

“You know we can’t visit him, baby. He’s got a lawyer, and money on his books -he’s taken care of.” Smurf tried to placate Hawk. “He does call once in a while when he’s up to it, and he’s doing the best that he can. Pope’s strong. He’ll get through this. He always does.” It didn’t sit right with her. Hawk knew why they couldn’t go to the prison to see him, she got it, but it still felt wrong. Pope was their family and they just…left him.

Abandonment when there was no more use seemed like a reoccurring Cody trait if Hawk ever saw one, though she never voiced that opinion out loud.

“Yeah, I understand.” That ended the tense conversation and chatter picked back up around the table.

It took a lot of hyping herself up for the 9 hour drive up to Folsom from Oceanside when Hawk decided to book her visiting slot. When Pope was initially locked up, Smurf had Hawk listed on his approved visitors list for emergency purposes because she was disconnected from any Cody shenanigans and had a clean record. Hawk never really thought she would actually make the trip north -not until she realized just how long Pope was destined to be up there like an animal with zero support on the outside other than a few bucks for commissary.

Hawk also wasn’t confident that Pope would even want to see her to begin with, especially if things were much worse on the inside than he was letting on to Smurf. Folsom had its reputation for a reason.

In a way Hawk always held a torch for the Pope, even as teens, but he never noticed it or chose to ignore it. Either way, the unrequited longing was still present now well into her thirties, and it wigged her out the longer she thought about it. Hawk told herself that if he rejected her visit, her feelings wouldn’t be hurt, but even the thought of that very real possibility was almost enough to make her turn around and tuck tail back home.

Pope needed support, Hawk told herself, letting the endless freeway in front of her distract her enough to keep going. He wasn’t getting it from his family and Hawk knew he didn’t really have friends -none of them did, really- and definitely not anyone who would drive nine hours to see him. It broke her heart a little. Even if he rejected her visit, it wasn’t a mistake. Showing him that she cared would let him know that he’s not alone. That there was someone on the outside who genuinely cared about him and his well-being .

To Hawk’s surprise, Pope accepted the visit. Generally the inmates don’t know who is waiting for them in the visiting room, just that they’re on the approved list, so imagine Pope’s surprise when he saw Hawk sitting on the other side of the cubicle, fidgeting as she waited for him to come out. Pope was an incredibly difficult man to read under normal circumstances, but the confusion was clear as day on his face when Hawk finally looked up from her hands and saw him coming her way. His right eye held remnants of fading bruises and the left corner of his downturned mouth had a mostly healed split.

God knows what happened to him in there, she thought to herself.

Picking up the receiver on Hawk’s end, she held it up to her ear. Pope took his time picking up the phone receiver from the other side of the glass and held it to his own ear.

“Hi,” Hawk said after a few beats. Pope didn’t respond for a few moments, but he kept his eyes locked on Hawk.

“Smurf send you?” His voice was raspy like he hadn’t used it much, and he probably hadn’t.

“No, she doesn’t know I’m here.” Both of his brows raised at this. His eyes, ever observant, were watching Hawk every move from her picking the skin around Hawk finger nails nervously, to the way Hawk’s eyes couldn’t keep contact with him for more than a few seconds at a time. She was nervous, that much he could tell.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” His eyes narrowed. She knew it was a stupid idea to take the nine hour drive by herself, but she couldn’t imagine being stuck in a car with Deran or Craig for that long -if they even wanted to go with her. Baz would’ve told her to go fuck herself for even asking.

“No.” Hawk spoke softly with a sigh, scratching the back of her neck.

“You’re a long way from home, Hawk. You should’ve brought someone.”

“I didn’t want to, and they were too chicken shit to come anyway, otherwise they would’ve already made the trip.” Hawk didn’t mean to answer so rigidly, and it got the most minute reaction out of Pope -a small twitch in his right eye- but Hawk’s anxiety was in overdrive. She hadn’t spoken to Pope and just Pope in years. There was always a buffer whether it was in the shop or at Smurfs and he never spoke to her first.

“If Smurf didn’t send you, then why are you here?” Pope leaned forward towards the scratched plexiglass, his voice lowering even further. If Hawk made the nine hour drive north, something had to have happened at home.

“I…” Hawk hesitated. What could Hawk say to him? “I spoke with Smurf the other night. I asked about you. She more or less said that none of them were coming up here for obvious reasons and it got me thinking…” Pope, ever stoic, stared unblinking as he listened to Hawk ramble. “I’m disconnected from everything and I’m already approved, so I figured I could make the drive to visit you. I’m sorry for not giving you a heads up, but I figured you could do with knowing there is someone on the outside who cares about you. I can’t begin to imagine your situation,” Pope almost laughed -situation. “If you’re fine with it, I wouldn’t mind coming up here every couple of weeks during visiting hours? But if you’re not cool with it that’s fine too. The ball’s in your court. I don’t want to overstep anymore than I have already.”

Pope blinked, studying Hawk with an intensity only he was capable of, and nodded ever so slightly after what seemed like forever. A weight was instantly lifted from Hawk’s shoulders. The timid smile she gave him made the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly, but Hawk caught it and she locked it away for a time she needed to think back on it.

That little grin alone made the trip worth it.

Those visits continued every two to three weeks on Saturdays or the occasional Sunday if her schedule didn’t allow it -the prison allotting four hours of visitation a month total if the inmate was on good behavior- and while Pope never really said much, Hawk knew he appreciated her being there even if it was an adjustment for him in the beginning. It was essentially a one sided yap session where Hawk updated him on Julia -only when he asked, and what was going on in her life. He never asked about his brothers or Smurf and Hawk was grateful for it. Their arrangement was separate from the family. It was something that was just theirs and theirs alone, and Pope wouldn’t let it bleed over if he could help it.

Two and a half years later and the calls and visits to Pope had become a routine. Pope knew that every two weeks, Hawk would be on the other side of that plexiglass like clockwork. The routine was good for him. It was something he could look forward to when everything else had gone to shit. He wouldn’t admit it, but Hawk was the sole reason he survived his three year lockup. It was her voice he heard when his cell was silent. It was her face he saw when he closed his eyes at night. He thought about her in every way a man could, especially when he had the cell to himself at certain points of the day. Her visits were something he looked forward to, something constant that made waking up the next day worthwhile.

The yearly parole hearings had become a routine as well, but so was their rejection. Pope didn’t expect to be released with the first hearing, but Hawk could see that he was deeply affected by it when she saw him two days after they rejected him. By the time the second rejection came, he was more settled with the idea that he wasn’t leaving. When his third year rolled around, Hawk could tell he was getting antsy when he called her to talk about the new parole hearing that had been scheduled for two weeks out.

“I don’t know why they waste their time when they already know I’m not going anywhere,” Pope told her. He was agitated before the call even connected -something had to have happened prior to the call that worked him up, and Hawk tried to get him to settle down so he didn’t have a meltdown.

“Don’t give them a reason to say no, Pope.” She warned him. “You’ve kept your head down and stayed out of trouble in there this long. That good behavior has to show for something. I’m with you either way, alright?” Hawk was stirring the contents of the pan she had going on the stove for her and J. A simple pasta with chicken and veggies in a white wine sauce was quick to throw together and her stomach growled just by smelling it.

“Alright.” Pope breathed into the phone. “Listen…maybe you shouldn’t take the trip out to Bakersfield this time.” It was Hawk’s idea to drive halfway to Folsom when Pope had his hearings. She’d book a hotel room in Bakersfield, and she’d wait for his call to hear what the parole board had to say. If he was released, it would be an easier four and a half hour drive to get him and if he wasn’t, then Hawk only had half the distance to drive back home. She made the time in her schedule and she had the means, but Pope still didn’t like her doing it.

“Stop, Pope. Don’t start with this. You still have two weeks before anything happens. I know it’s hard and it sounds cheesy as shit, but you have to stay positive. They can’t keep you in there forever, not with the charges you had. You’ll get out. You just have to hold on til then.”

J walked through the door right on schedule as she turned the burner off. He waved, but bypassed the kitchen and went straight to his room. Hawk pulled the phone away from her face and called out “Five minutes!” to which J yelled back with a ‘K!’ as she pulled some plates down from the overhead cupboard.

“What was that?” Pope asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I’m watching a friend’s kid while she’s out of town.” Hawk explained, a little white lie. “Nothing to worry about.”

“She’s not waking up.” J’s voice was oddly calm when Hawk answered her phone from a deep sleep a few days after her call with Pope. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up in bed, and looked down at the clock on her phone before bringing it back up to her ear.

“What?” She yawned, groaning as she sat up. J explained that he went to grab something from Julia’s apartment before school when he found her unresponsive on the sofa, arm extended over the edge and a used syringe on the floor under it.

“What do I -do I call an ambulance? Her lips are blue, Hawk. She’s…stiff.” Hawk jumped out of bed, pulling on the first pair of shoes she saw as she stumbled through her house and out to her car. She and J had close calls with Julia too many times in the past to keep track of, but J’s voice sounded different this time around.

“Is she breathing at all, J? Any sign of life?” The other line was silent, then a whispered “No.”

“Alright. I need you to go outside for me, okay? Stay outside. I’ll be there in five minutes. Just…stay put and stay on the line with me. I’m going to get an ambulance on the way, just hold on.” Tears lined her eyes and her throat started to choke up. Hawk mentally prepared herself over the years for this day that she knew was going to come sooner or later, but for it to actually happen was another thing entirely.

Hawk spoke to the coroner when she got to the complex, and explained Julia’s situation. The scene was quick to process. Overdoses were frequent in this neighborhood, and at this complex in particular. Police, ambulance, CPS -everyone was at the small complex documenting the scene -talking to her and J, separately.

“I don’t need to go with you. I’m seventeen-” J started to argue with the officer and CPS case worker who were talking to him about thirty feet away from Hawk. All she could see was J shaking his head, pointing in her direction, and his mouth moving a mile a minute.

J pointed to Hawk again and all she could do was stand off to the side and watch as he was escorted to the back of the awaiting CPS van. Her chin dropped to her chest as the tears broke free in a steady stream.

The full body scream Hawk let loose was so intense that she felt her teeth vibrate. Her forehead smashed down on the steering wheel once, twice, then a third time and she ripped at her hair. Anger, frustration, desperation, and grief all swirled together through her like some kind of fucked up cyclone, pulling every bit of sanity she had left out of her.

“That can’t be right,” Hawk insisted, leaning over Sandra the Social Worker’s desk. “Janine wanted nothing to do with Julia or J for the last seventeen years. She can’t be the next of kin.”

“Janine Cody is his legal next of kin per the State of California. I’m sorry, but there is nothing more I can do at this point. She’s already been contacted and she’s willing to take him in. That’s all I can tell you.”

“But I’m his emergency contact for everything. I have been since he was two. He can’t go to those people, Sandra. Janine isn’t fit to care for him, much less any child. J’s never met her and his mother kept it that way for a reason. He already has a room in my house. I am more than equipped to take care of him -I’ve been doing it the last fifteen years.” Hawk was desperate. “I have a business, I can pass a drug test, I’ve never been arrested. I can do…uh I can do home visits as often as you need them done. I-I own a home, I have a college fund for him. I’ll jump through any hoops you need me to because you can’t uproot him to give him to strangers, Sandra. How-how is that supposed to be what’s best for him?” Sandra held her hand out to stop Hawk from continuing.

“I know this is difficult to navigate, but this is the law. Had his mother gone through the proper channels and made you co-guardians, we’d be having a different conversation. That being said, because you have been caring for him for so long, there are routes for you to take that can get you in front of a judge to plead your case if that’s the direction you need to go.” She handed Hawk a pamphlet and told her that was all she could do for her. That entire conversation felt like a punch to the kidney.

Over.

And Over.

Hawk couldn’t take Smurf to court. Financially she could, but Smurf would sooner drown her in a toilet before they even saw the first court date. Hawk couldn’t take on Smurf and win, not while she had her boys to protect her, and that was a hard pill to swallow, but for J’s sake she did. Hawk wasn’t any use to him if she was dead and she’d do anything in her power to protect him. He was legally Smurf’s for less than one year, then he’d be eighteen and off to college as far away from Smurf as he could possibly go.

Hawk held herself together as best as she could as she stood up, thanked Sandra for her time, and beel-ined it out of the CPS office doors to her car so she could meltdown in relative peace.

“I’m so sorry, Julia.” She whispered against the steering wheel as she cried.

Hawk’s house had never felt so empty in the fifteen years she lived in it. It was stifling, uncomfortable. Grabbing a bottle of white wine from her wine fridge, she popped the cork and took it outside to the back porch. Hawk sat on the outdoor sofa, her legs twisted under her, and sipped straight from the bottle as she stared at the endless horizon for the next couple of hours. She was about three quarters of the way through the bottle when her phone rang, breaking the tranquil silence as she watched the sun set.

“Shit,” Wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to answer it, but she never missed a single call from Pope. Not once. Her emotions were all over the place and she was teetering over the edge of buzzed, toeing the threshold into the worst drunk night of her life. She couldn’t talk to Pope when she was like this, but she couldn’t just let it ring. With one more deep breath, she swiped on her exhale.

“This is a collect call from Folsom State Prison on behalf of-“ “Andrew Cody” Pope’s voice interrupted the automated message before it continued. “Do you accept the charges to connect the call?”

“Yes.” It rang once, then connected. “Hey, Pope." Hawk’s voice was raspy and airy, her vocal cords damaged from her trip to the CPS offices earlier in the day. He clocked her immediately.

“Are you okay?” His tone was all business. Pope was the first person to ask her that since everything went to ship and she wanted to tell him the truth. No, she wasn’t okay. She was grieving, she was devastated, and there wasn’t a single soul she could talk to about it. Pope asked, but Hawk couldn’t unload on him -especially when it was about his sister. She doubted Smurf clued him in to all that’s happened in the last week and Hawk didn’t want to drop this kind of news on him when he still had another week until his parole hearing.

Her mourning would remain between herself and the wine bottle for now.

“I’m fine, Pope. Just had a…really rough couple of days, but I don’t need to complain to you. You’ve got enough to worry about without me adding anything to it.” Her words had a slight slur and Pope knew she wasn’t a drinker, not anything more than a glass of wine at dinner or a beer here and there. Hawk didn’t get drunk, so to hear her teetering was just alarming enough for Pope to keep her on the line as long as he was allowed to. Hawk tried to hide a small sniffle as she wiped her nose on her sleeve, but nothing got by him. She was crying, or had been at least. Something was very wrong.

“You gotta let me in, Hawk.” His voice rasped, his brain working overtime to figure out the best way to navigate. “I called because I wanted to hear your voice. Talk to me.” He coaxed. “About anything. I just want to hear you.”

Hawk was clicking through the channels on the hotel’s tv when her cell rang. Pressing the mute button on the remote, she was quick to answer her cell.

“This is a collect call from Folsom State Prison on behalf of-“ “Andrew Cody” “Do you accept the charges to connect the call?”

“Yes.” Tossing the remote into the bed, Hawk put the phone on speaker. It rang once and then Hawk could hear noise on the other end as it connected. “Hello?”

“They did it.” Hawk swayed on the bed, blinking as if that would help process what he said.

“They did it? Are you serious?” Of course he was serious. Pope was only serious. Hawk couldn’t believe what she was hearing and needed him to confirm it.

“Three years and nineteen days later, yeah.” She fell back against the mattress in relief. “You in Bakersfield? If not, I can take a bus-”

“-I can be there in four hours, tops.” Hawk cut him off. “Been gnawing off my goddamn fingernails waiting to hear from you. I’m just…really happy it’s good news this time around, Pope”

The remainder of Hawk’s final ride to the prison was filled with jitters and absolute silence.

Pope was getting released.

Pope was free.

The four hours passed by quicker than Hawk would’ve liked, anticipation gnawing so badly at her stomach and chest that she was sure she was developing an ulcer. She sat parked outside of the prison for another hour and a half -waiting, continuing to mindlessly gnaw at her already raw fingertips before a buzzing sound filled the immediate area. Hawk caught movement coming out of a secured gate to the right of where she had parked and within seconds, Pope was walking out, his eyes scoping the lot.

Trying to play it cool, Hawk kept herself seated against the hood of her small SUV, but the reality was that she feared she’d make an absolute fool out of herself if she seemed too eager to go to him.

Seeing Pope for the first time in three years without a sheet of bulletproof Plexiglas between them was jarring. Seeing him not in an orange jumpsuit was also jarring. He had definitely put on muscle in his time locked up. Not that he was beefy, but he was sturdy, strong, immovable. Solid.

Pope didn’t carry anything other than a manila file in his hand. He stopped walking when he spotted Hawk, eyes squinting in the harsh California sunlight. Hawk took that as her que to start walking towards him. They both looked each other up and down, assessing the other before Hawk stopped just before him. Pope’s mind went to their call from the previous week, the call Hawk was definitely drunk for. He could see it on her face, whatever she was going through had taken the spark that she had when she came to visit him. Pope couldn’t see her eyes past her dark sunglasses, but he could tell she was slightly off. Pope didn’t mention it out loud, but he did take a mental note.

Hawk held out her hand, his sunglasses perched in her palm on offer to him. She was mindful to swipe them from Smurf’s when he went up for parole the first time and held onto them with a little pile of his belongings. His head dropped down and he smiled. Not a tilt or a minor lift -a genuine smile, Simple’s on full display, then he looked at Hawk with an emotion that she couldn’t register, but he was happy and that’s all that mattered in that moment. It was a win for her after so many losses. Pope took the shades out of her palm gently and placed them on his face, a small ‘thank you’ leaving him.

“Can I?” Hawk’s question was hesitant as she tested the waters, giving him the opportunity to initiate any contact. Pope raised a brow, but lifted his arms just high enough to let Hawk know he was alright with it. With all the relief and joy in Hawk’s heart, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tightly. His body immediately tensed at the contact after going so long without, but when Hawk went to let go he wrapped his arms around her shoulders to pull her back to him. Hawk felt Pope’s chest expand as he nuzzled his face to the crown of her head, breathed in deep, held it and then exhaled.

“It’s good to have you back, Pope.” Hawk spoke softly into his shirt before letting him go. She felt the pinch of tears starting to spring, but willed herself to hold them back. “Come on, let’s get you to the hotel. I have the room for the night anyway and it’s a long drive back. Doubt you’ll want to sit in the car that long.”

“You could drag me behind it the whole way home and it wouldn't hold a candle to being in there.” He nodded to the prison with a grimace.

“Hold onto that thought,” Hawk chuckled, “For now, we’re going to Bakersfield. You hungry?” This brought another grin to his face.

“Starving.”

“Does anyone know you’re out?” Hawk popped a fry in her mouth as Pope savored his second burger, bypassing the fries. The sky was shades of periwinkle and pink as the sun began to set. They were currently sitting at a table outside of an In-N-Out that was halfway to their hotel so Pope could enjoy his first meal out in the fresh air before the sun set for the first time in three years.

“Nope.” Not knowing what to say, Hawk just nodded slowly knowing his unexpected return to the Cody residence in the morning was going to be a shit show.

“Alright.“ They finished their meals in relative peach. Pope would glance over to Hawk behind his sunglasses. He wasn’t trying to hide it. Three years in prison for anyone would do just about anyone in when it came to consensual intimacy.

When they got back to the hotel Hawk could feel Pope’s eyes on her the whole time they were in the elevator and as Hawk led him down the hall until they reached the door. It was familiar, a little unnerving, but otherwise comfortable.

“This extra key is for you,” Hawk handed Pope the duplicate. “Not sure if you’ll get restless and want to wander a bit.” He took it and stowed it away in his front pocket. “Room 426” Hawk said out loud as she tapped the keycard against the mechanism. A burst of air conditioning hit Pope and he closed his eyes at the feeling. When he opened them again Hawk was standing inside, holding the door open for him patiently.

“I haven’t claimed a bed yet, so pick whichever one you want” Hawk offered as he stepped through the threshold. The bed closest to the door was the obvious answer for Pope as he sat on the corner of the mattress. He nearly groaned at the softness of it. His brain went to Hawk’s safety first, not that he was expecting anything to happen. This was one of the nicer hotels in the area, but it was still Bakersfield and he would -without a second thought- put himself in harm's way for her if need be. Of that he was absolutely certain.

“I’ve been collecting some of your things from Smurf’s since you told me about the hearing that was coming up -just in case. I felt good about the odds this time around.” Hawk placed a small duffel on his bed with a gentle smile and sat on her bed opposite of him. “I didn’t go through your stuff or anything, just your clothes and some things I thought you’d want for tonight and tomorrow.” Pope unzipped the bag and poked around in it, checking out what she brought. A change of clothes, underwear and socks, a new razor and shaving cream, stuff for a shower, and a pair of sneakers.

“How’d you get this out without Smurf noticing?” Hawk’s sly grin made the corner of his mouth tilt.

“I’ve been known to have sticky fingers in my youth. While I may be out of practice, I’m unseen when I need to be.”

“You?” Pope didn’t look convinced. “Little Miss Five Finger Discount?”

“I was a troubled youth.” Hawk laughed. “And stupid. Don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Nah,” Pope shook his head, his voice soft. “You were never stupid. Probably the smartest out of all of us.”

“That’s not saying much.” She joked, getting a ghost of a chuckle out of Pope. “I only smartened up before I could get caught.”

“Getting caught was more of Julia’s thing.” Hawk’s stomach sank at the mention of her friend and Pope noticed a change in demeanor, though she tried to mask it. He was more observant than the average person, Hawk had to remind herself, especially watching his own back for three years. Pope could read people and she felt entirely exposed in front of him. He was right about her eyes when they were outside of the prison.

“What happened?” Hawk took a moment to compose her thoughts.

“I really don’t know if it’s my place to say or if this is where I should say it.” Hawk’s eyes didn’t meet his.

“Did something happen to Julia?” Pope’s feelings about his sister were complicated and conflicting. She was a junkie and she betrayed the family -abandoned Pope. He cut contact with her the day she bailed out of Smurf’s house and only got updates through Hawk when Hawk wanted to give them. Hawk only spoke about Julia, never her son. They knew of J’s existence, but not his name, and J didn’t know about their’s -other than that they were out in the world. J didn’t know their names, how old they were, what they looked like. Well, he did, but he didn’t know that they were related to him. Even at her worst, Julia stressed to Hawk that he couldn’t be a part of their world and Hawk had failed her miserably.

Hawk leaned her elbows on her thighs and dropped her face into her hands for a moment before sitting up straight.

“She’s gone, Pope.” Hawk’s voice was just above a whisper, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. Pope’s expression didn’t change, but Hawk saw a shift in his eyes.

“OD?” Hawk nodded. It was always a matter of when with Julia, not if, and it hurt Hawk’s heart to think that even if it was true. Pope blinked a few times, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “When?”

“About a week ago. Funeral’s in two days. I didn’t want to tell you before the hearing in case it went south and I didn’t want you to focus on anything other than possibly getting out, ya know?” He nodded, jaw clenching harder, and stood with the duffel bag. He looked down at Hawk, the space between his brows pinched like he wanted to say something, but took the bag and made his way over to the bathroom. “Pope?” He stopped, but didn’t turn around. “I’m really sorry.” He ultimately stepped forward without another word, without acknowledging Hawk, and locked himself in the bathroom.

Hawk’s head dropped back down into her hands. Pope didn’t know the situation with J -yet, and Hawk had no idea what he was going to do when he did.

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#pope cody x reader #animal kingdom imagine #andrew pope cody #pope cody #animal kingdom tnt #shawn hatosy #well enough alone universe

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mychapel-004 · 8 months ago

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I think the most interesting and under-explored part of gf canon is the formation of the blind eye and I'm tired of pretending it isn't: a long post

Because hear me out here, if we really take a look at the timing of the only concrete source we have (mcgucket's video diaries), it doesn't... line up at all?

The clear implication here is that he started making the diaries after the first portal incident on January 18th 1983, so this would be our "day one"

"For the past year I have been working as an assistant for a visiting researcher... But something went wrong. I decided to quit the project, but I lie awake each night, haunted by the thoughts of what I've done... Test subject one: Fiddleford."

But this makes no sense. We know from J3 that the memory gun was actually invented after a series of traumatic events with Ford, months before he left the project. Further, the timeline the video diaries set up of the blind eye show that he began to deteriorate and founded the blind eye on day 22, which would be February 9th, but in J3 the blind eye is already a full blown cult by then.

In addition, where is he in this video? we know from TBOB that he isn't on good terms with his wife after Christmas of 1982 and he likely didn't leave GF after the portal incident, but he was living with Ford up until this so where is this room? If he had somewhere else to stay, why only stay there now?

Now, realistically the answer here is that the lore was changed and slightly retconned between the writing of this episode and the publishing of the book (which alex discusses in some of the commentary for this episode when discussing fidd's character), but I think a more interesting theory to solve this contradiction can be found in the source material.

If we play this all completely straight, there are two options here, both involving Fiddleford lying in his diaries. this isn't entirely new to the series, unreliable narration is a big theme, especially in Journal 3 and TBOB. the only real explanations are that:

A) Fiddleford was lying about this being the first time he used the gun, meaning this video diary takes place after the portal incident.

B) Fiddleford was lying about leaving the project, and was filming these diaries while still working with Ford.

Now, either of them is plausible, but ultimately Fiddleford is a scientist. He has dedicated his life to engineering, and it seems to be his lifelong passion considering it's one of the only character traits that he continues to practice after losing his mind. Would a man who is this talented, this dedicated, really lie about testing results in a video diary he chose to make?

If he had used the gun before, any kind of result he is trying to observe would be ruined. It would be a pointless venture, since we know for a fact that by the time he leaves the project he has used the gun on himself, Ford and other civillians multiple times. It's a complete failure of the scientific method, and I don't think it makes sense for the character we know, the man who quadruple checks his own calculations just to be sure they're right.

However, the other explanation feels like something he might do. We know he invents the gun after the Gremloblin incident likely sometime in August, and seems to use it immediately as evidenced by J3, on both himself and Ford. We know from the audio commentary that for Fidd, the memory gun is very much an addiction, it's something that he uses to curb his anxiety and appear like a better partner, to try and keep himself together until the project is over. But ultimately, he's known something is wrong with the project for a long time, and Ford mentions his tendency towards self destructive anxiety when Fidd rips out his own hair after Ford reveals the tip of the weirdness iceberg to him.

All this to say, I think it's far more realistic for Fiddleford to lie about leaving the project rather than his results. He knows that something is wrong, that he should leave and be with his family, and on the other side of that we know that Bill is using this anxiety to whisper into Ford's ear that Fidd is unreliable and will leave. He's been through a severely traumatic event with the Gremloblin, trapped for days in his worst nightmares, to the point where he is prepared to cause himself potential brain damage to un-see it.

But despite all of it, he doesn't leave. He is determined to stay, maybe out of loyalty, maybe out of fear for Ford's safety, maybe he needs the money from the project for his family. He has a wife and son who need him and we know that he feels guilt for his treatment towards them, he even cites them as his sole reason for backing out of using the gun immediately before he does it anyway, and uses it on Ford to cover his mistakes up. Fiddleford is a man who is wracked by anxiety and shame and is such a bad way by this point that he is absolutely willing to self-destruct and lie to just get through this project.

I think he absolutely would start documenting his use of the memory gun, even if that meant lying that he had followed his instincts and left the project when he should have done. After all, he says himself that he wants to use this gun on a wider scale as a therapy tool, assuming the gun doesn't turn his brain to mush, surely the tapes of his initial testing will need to be peer-reviewed? He's presenting the reality he wishes was true, the one where he is brave and stands on his principles and doesn't fall into step beside Ford on his path to destruction.

So, where does this leave the timeline?

Finding exact dates is difficult, mostly because the only concrete numbers in J3 are few and far between, but we do have the dates of the tapes to go off as follows. This isn't concrete but it's a fun way to recontextualise the events of J3:

Day 1:

First usage of the gun, followed by it being used on Ford

Sometime after the Gremloblin incident, Fidd's arm is either healed or on the mend from the incident as his cast is gone, so likely towards the end of August.

Note on the cast: It could also be gone as a result of him removing it too early, he doesn't seem to take a lot of time to recover from the incident before he gets back to work in fear of disappointing Ford.

The room he is in is likely his bedroom in the Shack, or whatever location he initially uses to form the blind eye, maybe a room in the museum? The "probability of failure" graph in the back is the same one that he shows Ford the night before the Portal test, albeit a bigger version, meaning he has likely been tracking the output results for a while.

Day 5:

Still exhibiting postive results, no deterioration yet.

Day 22:

First signs of mental deterioration

First mention of the blind eye, Fidd draws the symbol onto a notebook but it is already scribbled in the background over a diagram of the portal. The blind eye symbol is first mentioned in J3, when Fidd hands it to the carny who becomes the eventual leader of the cult, so this diary likely takes place after he has begun using it on other people.

Official formation of the blind eye as a group to help people forget traumatic memories.

His room in the shack is in a state of disarray, his plants are dead and there are handprints in oil or ink on the walls. Notably, he seems to be connecting the idea of a single eye and the portal despite not being aware of Bill at this point, which I'll touch upon later.

The carnival is likely in September according to the timeline by @fordtato

Day 74:

Slight physical deterioration, more physical anxiety

It seems that Fidd has been regularly using the memory gun at this point, to erase even minorly distressing images from his head, and his anxiety has taken a nosedive. Likely explanation is that this diary is after the bunker, where he had another severely traumatic experience (kidnapped by a shapeshifter and reduced to mute from anxiety) and seemed to become obsessed with doomsday planning. During the bunker arc he also used the gun on multiple workmen and Ford once again.

Likely takes place in October/November

His room is a complete mess by now, with the walls covered in papers and "Help Me" scrawled on the walls.

At this point in J3, Ford has made his deal with Bill and is allowing him to possess his body whenever he pleases. Bill has also sucessfully driven a divide between the other two by making Ford doubt that Fidd will be able to make it to the end of the project, and Ford describes his frustration with him.

According to Ford, Fidd is just as agitated and nervous before the portal test as he was during the Gremloblin attack, and obsessively checks and rechecks his calculations, causing Ford to worry for his resolve.

In between this diary and the next are the stolen pages from J3 that are in TBOB, which give us slight insight into Fiddleford during this time but not much. We see that he tries multiple times to reach out to him the only way that Fidd knows how, through invention and creation, with the snowglobe and the six-fingered gloves. Ford, however, treats them carelessly as a result of his increased attention to his muse. At the same time, he tries to visit home but is kicked out by Emma-May after he forgets to get her a Christmas gift. This is played as an example of his connection with Ford, him remembering two gifts for the man and none for his wife, but if he really is suffering from his use of the gun at this time, the forgetfulness makes even more sense and his argument with his family means he doesn't have a support system outside of Ford who is paying all of his attention to the project. After this, Fiddleford is more reclusive than ever as he spends early January compiling a thesis for Ford to publish

Day 189

Physical deterioration is in full effect and he can't hide the result of his addiction any more, even just to keep up appearances.

His arm is broken, likely due to the car accident he mentions accidentally causing, but its the same arm he broke during the Gremloblin attack and could be a result of him taking his cast off too early for it to have healed right in the first place which could explain why he wears it for so long.

Significant mental decline as he has started exhibiting signs of brain damage or swelling (decreased vocabulary, forgetfulness, loss of motor functions) however, he is seemingly lucid enough to question if the memory gun is causing negative side effects.

There are actually bottles visible in the back of the room, possbly referencing the addiction metaphor being used here

This would take place after the portal test, likely late January. Ford is at the height of his paranoia, Fiddleford has left the shack and taken every trace of his research with him except his college picture with Ford, and the blind eye is a fully established and seemingly self-governing cult.

Day 273

At this point, Fidd has relocated to a motel and is seemingly completely mentally gone, ripping out his hair and developing his hunched posture. This likely takes place after the blind eye takes his memories, or he continues erasing them himself. It's possible that the blind eye continues visiting him and taking his memories even after he is ejected as a member, or at least until they forget who he is after using the gun on themselves too many times.

It appears to be snowing outside? Which doesn't line up with either the canon timeline or this timeline, so potentially the days on the video diaries could be incorrect assuming he isn't filming them every day, or has lost so much of his mind by this point that he isn't labelling them right and has lost track of time

The final two entries are a similar story, serving only to show us the end of his decline and him eventually becoming fully homeless, retreating to the junkyard he lives in for the next 28 years (jesus, he really deserved that mansion).

Ultimately though, this timeline asks a lot of interesting character questions.

Why did Ford not realise how bad Fiddleford's decline was becoming? Maybe a mix of circumstances, he was falling deeper into his worship of Bill at the time, to the extent that he was regularly being possessed and judging by the lack of journal entries at the time, very pre-occupied. We also know that Fidd used the gun on him at least twice in canon, and possibly used it more than we know in order to convince Ford he was okay.

If Fiddleford was erasing parts of Ford's memory, did Bill know? Personally, I feel that Bill was aware but knew that ultimately it would serve him. Fiddleford, without ever encountering Bill at this point, created the blind eye symbol which is eerily close to Bill's symbolism, how would he know that when we know Ford is possessive of his muse and doesn't share anything with Fidd about it? How does Ford have visions of Fidd in a red cloak without ever knowing that the cult and Fidd are directly connected? My thoughts are that Bill, who we know has erased Ford's memory himself before when he stole the journal pages we see in TBOB, was using most of this as fodder to drive a divide between the two, mentally creating associations in both of their minds so they stop trusting the other. Chess but with troubled gay men.

All in all I think Fiddleford's decline is such an interesting way to approach a theme of addiction, particularly a high-functioning addiction. If this really is how things played out, we know that throughout his use of the gun and even 30 years later when he is considered a write-off, the one thing he maintains is his engineering prowess and his smarts. It makes sense that even when actively using the gun and hiding it from Ford he would be able to keep up in terms of building the portal, especially when we know he secretly hired workers. It's also a great example of someone drawing others into their addiction, even if it was unintentional and he didn't believe they would be hurt in the long run.

I feel like sometimes there's a lil bit of a push to see Fidd as a naive or morally good character even through his mistakes and to demonise Ford in response, but ultimately both of them are very morally grey and have their own vices that they develop and grow from.

#eden rambles #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddauthor #billford #gravity falls meta #society of the blind eye #geiger counter au #eden writes #bill cipher #stanford pines #thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

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ivesambrose · 3 months ago

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Did March feel heavy for anyone else? Did you have any breakthroughs as well?

Intending April is a kinder month for those who find this message 🍀

✨

are you ready to see what's ahead?

My personal tarot readings offer clarity, guidance, and insight tailored just for you. Whether you're seeking answers love, career, or personal growth.

Book your reading now and step into April with confidence.

DM me or email me at [email protected] and secure your spot!

Picture 1

For you,

April is a dance between clarity and longing,

Your mind is sharper than before, you're more decisive this month, you know what you want to plan for ahead, you can see things clearly in your mind and you're well aware that everything starts from that lovely mind of yours. You'll require less validation from others this month and it's likely because you're done looking for it. The April sun rises, bathing you in clarity and warmth. You want to actively seek joy and there is happiness here, but it seems as though you're rather restless as though you are looking past your blessings, searching for something more even though what you want is right in front of you.

You'll be blessed with healing connections, laughter, friendship, and shared moments that will pull you from solitude. And you will compelled to release what still weighs heavy on your heart. Because of you don't you'll find yourself unable to be in the present and enjoy your moments fully. Let go, but honor what it taught you. You'll be okay.

You'll also be finding yourself getting rooted in financial stability. Whether it be doing good in business, receiving help, sudden increase in wealth, new job etc Some of you might also feel like investing in something.

This month may be a mix of emotional highs and lows, mostly because you may not be used to things going your way so you question it.

What does April bring?

A reckoning. A reminder. A renewal. This is the month you learn that joy and sorrow can exist together and you can still thrive admist it all.

Picture 3

Picture 2

For you,

April is the bridge between dreaming and arriving.

You'll feel yourself being pulled to a certain place and you'll also begin to notice that what you have been waiting for is no longer distant. You'll find yourself being the center of attention at certain points of this month but you won't feel intimidated by it at such. You've been preparing for this, haven't you?

Your wishes take form, and faith finds proof.

Your rewards will be tangible. A seed planted begins to sprout; an opportunity, a job, a project, or stability finally takes shape. Is it overnight? Possible but even if it's slow, it's very certain. It's reliable. This month is more about you allowing yourself to have what you desire without conditioning yourself. Give yourself that assurance that what you want is already yours.

Your resolve and discipline might get tested. Old habits, temptations, or limiting beliefs may whisper, asking if you’re ready to break free. (Hint: you are) Some of you might overwhelm yourself with something you're passionate towards.

Eitherway, you'll be triumphant in what you do. A cycle completes, a lesson learned, a chapter closed. You are not who you once were. And you're glad, you're so very glad.

What does April bring?

A rising. A reckoning. A reward. This is the month you step into your power, unbound and unstoppable.

For you,

April feels like a sigh of relief.

The shifts are profound but will come through gently. You've braced enough storms. I think a lot of you are prioritising nervous system regulation his month too (maybe even opt for a spa day?)

April is a month of emotional renewal, a new beginning in love, self discovery, something serene that washes over you. Despite this, things will feel stable, not volatile. What grows now is steady, secure, and built to last.

The light at the end of the long void like tunnel seems to be visible now. April restores your faith, reminding you that better days are not just ahead but they are here. Some of you are leaving or have already left a place, person or circumstance. Some of you might actually preparing yourselves for a long travel ahead. Maybe you were manifesting a big relocation, a visa, a trip or simply a career where you travel and make a living too? This is something very specific to you. I think some of you might have chosen the second picture too. Your soul is searching for something that feels like a journey and coming home at the same time. You've been craving to collect memories and experiences that shape you. You'll have it.

And at the end of this journey? a heart full, a soul at peace, joy that feels like home. You're meant to have it all. Especially the love and relationships that you've been wishing for.

What does April bring?

A renewal. A release. A homecoming. This is the month you step away from what drains you and into what truly fulfills you.

#free readings #tarot community #divination community #pick a card #pac #pick a picture #monthly messages #ivesambrose

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sleepynoons · 5 months ago

Text

In Dreams

Your heats have become vicious and unbearable, and you're told nothing can cure you unless you mate. The issue is: Dan Heng's a beta.

dan heng x reader, omegaverse, nsfw

word count: ~3,500

cw: descriptions of pain and cramps, allusions to sexual trauma, mentions of sex toys/masturbation/slick, internalized stigmatization of sex/masturbation/etc.

notes: find yourself a lover who wouldn't just die for you – find someone who will still love you when you're incredibly gross and ill and sick and vulnerable!!!!!! anyway, this is j an angsty take on omega heats, and i took some creative liberties/deviations with this au.

It seems your heat has decided to come at the worst possible time.

It’s never cooperated with you in the past few years, and you’ve come to despise it, along with several other reasons. At times, it’s regular, due every three months, with the one to two weeks leading up to the real thing a gradual build-up, a towering ocean wave that you can see from a distance, feel through the rumbling and trembling in your gut. Other times, this time, and most often, there’s no warning at all, and it arrives as a riptide, a tumultous, driving current that has the sole goal of pulling you under.

Heats, as you’ve come to learn, aren’t always romantic, passionate, or arousing, and they’ve never been any one of those things for you.

You stumble to the railing, hearing a screech from your sweaty palms smearing against the cold iron of the bar. Your vision’s blurred, everything hallucinating in double, and the lights glow too fiercely. It’s already a miracle that you’ve managed to make it to Dan Heng’s room, but just as everyone on the Express knows it, the archive’s filled with nothing but books, journals, projections, ballpoint pens, and the barest of his belongings.

As if your feet have detached from your legs and the joints of your legs have rolled out of the sockets in your hips, you manage to trip over the two steps that lead up to Dan Heng’s futon. Unceremoniously, you collapse onto the ground. There’s bound to be bruises on your shins, and you can already feel a dull sensation in your wrists and forearms. Through thick pants and a vision scattered with black dots, you crawl over to his bed and wrap yourself in Dan Heng’s blanket. (It smells like nothing.)

You wake a few hours later, and you know your heat has officially started because you can feel slick gluing your bottoms to your burning skin. Speaking of which, your whole body feels hot, and you bitterly think that’s the closest thing to passionate you’re ever going to get. You need something cold, icy, something that’ll break through this oppressing heat, so you roll over with a few pained groans so that you’re lying on the floor.

But now you feel empty because even if Dan Heng’s things smell like nothing to you, they still provide an unexplainable, irrational sense of safety and assurance. You twist and turn and writhe, until you finally settle your head on his pillow while keeping as much of the rest of your body against the floor.

The thing about having sudden heats is that you’re unable to prepare or regulate yourself. You can’t follow through with typical omega habits, like building a nest or scenting with a partner, all of which are vital preparations to ensure omegas are as comfortable as possible during their heats. But it’s not like you could do either of those things anyway, because you’ve never really learned how to nest and betas, like Dan Heng, and their scents aren’t potent enough to alleviate even pre-heat symptoms.

You’ve tried suppressants before, but they have no effect on you. After several consultations with doctors from all over the galaxies, the only sound hypothesis of a cure is for you to mate.

Another catch is that betas can’t mate. You’re also strictly monogamous, so even if mating would solve your problem, you refuse to.

The best thing you can do is to wait your heat out, and it doesn’t take long for the cramping in your abdomen to cause you to black out from its overwhelming pain.

But you wake again in less than an hour. You’ve soaked through Dan Heng’s bedding entirely from both your sweat and slick, and even through your muddled senses, you can smell your scent practically permeate the room, stubborn as it clings to the spines of aged books, settles in the corners of the shelves, mixes with the ink from an inkwell that you seem to have knocked over and spilled from your fall earlier. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recall it was a souvenir you had brought back for Dan Heng from one of the Express’ expeditions you had participated in.

With heaving breaths, it takes significant effort just to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your heat’s worse than normal, consuming your senses and thoughts and overall ability to function, an anchor dragging you down to the depths of an ocean, depths you didn’t know existed, and this overwhelming paralysis scares you.

There’s no other choice but to try to slow your heat down.

It’s not like you dislike trying new things. It’s just that you’d prefer to go outside of your comfort zone when you’re able to think straight. Frantically, you search the room for anything that’s Dan Heng’s. You’ve never created a nest before for several reasons, but something in you tells you that that’s the right thing to do. (Though, in reality, that something’s likely your neediness and hyperactive omega instincts.)

Powered by sheer spite, you rely on the railing once again to stagger onto your shaky feet. You gulp, desperate to accumulate a last bout of energy, before beginning your search around the room.

There’s little of Dan Heng’s things. He’s out on a trip with Himeko at the moment, having left two days ago, and brought along the few pieces of clothing he owned. You do manage to spot one of his journals on his desk, a leather-bound notebook that’s glossy black from intentional care and binds hundreds of thick parchment paper together. You mutter a quick apology before chucking the journal in the direction of the bed, hoping that it landed anywhere near the latter.

You make sure not to trip on your way down, and you approach the archive’s bookshelves. You specifically scan the bottom two rows of the middle column, where Dan Heng stores the texts that he’s been frequenting the most as of late. With haphazard grabbing motions, you try to pile as many of the books on your arms as you can, before the weight of only five crushes you down to the floor. One lands beside your face, and you catch a whiff of woody vanilla and roasted almonds.

They thud and tumble around you. Tears well in your eyes, but you’re not sure if it’s solely because of your frustration.

You try again, gripping onto the walls to help you up, forgetting about the books on the floor. You manage to gather four others in your hold, and you stumble back to Dan Heng’s bed.

To your luck, despite your careless throw, Dan Heng’s journal managed to reach his pillow. After piling the books from the shelves in two groups of two, you fall back and curl into a ball.

The throbbing in your stomach and core is almost unmanageable. You’re sure this is the maddening arousal that omegas have described, but to you, there’s nothing pleasurable about it. You don’t want to be satiated, you want this pain to end. In fact, the only way to satiate this pain is to end it.

Getting filled up with a dildo or squirting from a vibrator are the least of your concerns. You’re actually more convinced they’d cause you more harm. Well, they do help, but only when Dan Heng’s there with you. You can’t bear to even think of touching yourself when you’re alone.

A sting pierces at your heart at the thought of Dan Heng. You whimper, a mournful, weak sound, before you roll onto your side and flip open his journal. On the two pages you randomly open to, there are several scribbles, arrows and Universal cursive and diagonal lines of Xianzhou Script covering the sheets. There’s also slight smudges, from where the side of Dan Heng’s hand accidentally brushed against still-drying ink.

You can’t really make out what’s on the pages, not that you have the capacity to do that. Instead, you rub your nose and tear-stricken cheeks against the pages, crinkling the paper with your fervent movements. The journal smells the same as the books from the shelves, only slightly less musky from age. To your surprise, you also catch a faint trace of sea salt and white maple.

This journal must still in use, then, for Dan Heng’s scent to be lingering on it. For a split second, you worry about ruining his research, but then again, omegas can’t really control their urges or instincts, so you can only hope that that’ll be a sufficient excuse when Dan Heng sees the damage you’ve done. You press your face further into the book, splitting it wider apart until the thread stitching the reams of paper together is exposed.

You fall asleep, to the dissipating remnants of his scent.

–

After a brief explanation to Pom-Pom, Dan Heng speeds to his room with wide, spanning steps. He needs to grab his journal and leave immediately, even though he’d personally like to spare a second to greet you. Unfortunately, the research team Himeko and him are meeting up with have run into a problem with their experiments that needs to be resolved immediately, and Dan Heng’s only returning briefly to the Express to grab the right notebook so he can actually be of some help.

However, he stops in the middle of his tracks for two reasons: first, by March who stands a few feet away from the door to his room, looking ghastly and appalled, trembling hands clamped over her mouth, and second, by the nauseatingly sweet pheromones that fill the corridor. He knows they’re yours, and when Mr. Yang steps into view a moment later, with a shared nod, Dan Heng barges into the archives while Mr. Yang stifles his breath as he carries March away.

Even as a beta, your heat’s cruelly stimulating. Just by stepping into the same room as you Dan Heng feels as if he, too, is boiling over, with sweat and steam already forming and sticking to his clothes and skin. Thankfully, he thinks, he doesn’t have a physiological need to mate, so with enough effort and restraint, which he’s honed, albeit unintentionally, for lives and lives over, he can keep himself in check. With quiet steps, ignoring the scattered books with creased pages and the puddle of ink that will no doubt be difficult to remove, he treads closer to your form until he can tell that you’re fast asleep. It’s not a deep sleep, though, given that you’re thrashing about and groaning without pause.

He also notices the few books and his journal and a pen lying around you, and Dan Heng thinks his heart breaks a little at that. He’s always known that you struggle with your omega instincts and needs, but not to the extent that you don’t even know how to nest properly. Of course, it’s not entirely your fault either. He exhales, slightly shaking from anger and disbelief. Even if you knew how to nest in this situation, the fact that he had left nothing for you to nest with is unforgivable.

At the very least, Dan Heng’s good at compartmentalizing, so he redirects his anguish towards focusing on your needs. He adjusts the thermostat to a lower temperature, before rushing out of his room, despite not wanting to leave you alone. You need water, food, painkillers, clothes, and several other things. The corridor seems to have been aired out in the few minutes Dan Heng had been inside the archives, and when he reaches the kitchen, he runs into Mr. Yang.

Mr. Yang nods at him. “I’ve already told Himeko about the situation. You don’t need to go back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Yang,” Dan Heng replies. “Is March alright?”

“Yes, I believe she was just triggered by the pheromones. We had some suppressants on hand, so she has taken them already. She’ll be alright.”

“Thanks, again, Mr. Yang.”

With a nod from his end, Dan Heng grabs what he thinks you’ll need before taking off and heading to your room.

The gravity of your heat hits him harder when he’s inside your room. This entire time he’s been working off of pure conjecture, tidbits you’ve briefly mentioned in passing and advice he’s come across in textbooks and miscellaneous blog posts. But general omega care doesn’t really seem to apply to you, and he’s only spent one heat with you before. All the other times you locked yourself in your room, only receptive to help from March or Pom-Pom.

Dan Heng chides himself to not take it personally. You’ve made it a point to tell him that it’s not that you don’t trust him, but rather, a personal discomfort that you’ve yet to work through. Regardless, Dan Heng can’t help but feel slightly more frustrated and a significant bit more helpless than before.

He grabs a few of your hoodies and t-shirts from your drawer, and sitting on the ground, he begins to scent them, pressing and rubbing the fabric against his scent glands, furiously willing his body to produce more and more. But as he works through each article, the thoughts, the rational, realistic, unpleasant thoughts about your relationship, gradually begin to take precedent and eclipse all else.

Even if you were saturated with his scent, it would not be enough. Betas’ scents have calming, sometimes sedative effects, but they do not provide satisfaction to omegas when they’re in heat or alphas when they’re in rut. Betas also don’t need to mate, so he could never keep up with the physical demands of your heat either. More importantly, he could never give you a mark, something that would do much to ease the fire igniting and searing you from within.

He doesn’t stay for too long, as he needs to return to your side, but he does make one last stop at your closet, where he pulls out a small box that contains your vibrator. He’s also aware that you’re not the biggest fan of it, but it did make you feel a bit better last time, so it might be worth a try again.

When he’s back in the archives, it seems you’ve just woken up. Your face is buried into his pillow, sobbing and yelping into it, while your hips jerk side to side uncontrollably, like you’re being tasered relentlessly with electric shocks. Dan Heng rushes over and runs a hand over the back of your head.

You, on the other hand, don’t really notice his gentle touch. Delirious to the point that you can’t tell between reality and your restless dreams, your mind can only process the burning craving between your legs and the soreness throughout the rest of your body. It isn’t until you feel your body being lifted and a familiar face comes into view that you realize another person is in the room.

You chuckle, though it comes out as more of a choke. Even if you can’t make out the features of his face all that well or distinguish his clothes or even smell the sea salt and white maple that he’s desperately trying to emit, you know it’s Dan Heng, and now you’re more inclined to believe that you’re in a dream. Dan Heng’s not supposed to be here, but at least your subconscious has given you the opportunity to pretend that he is.

You croon and curl your body around him, relishing in the slight diminishing of pain from having your partner so close. His skin is cool to touch, and when you bury your nose into the pulse point on the underside of his wrist, his scent is helpful in calming your high-strung nerves. But, of course, not all of your pain subsides from his presence, and as another angry wave of your heat washes by, all you can do is dig your nails into his skin and bite down on your lips, barely able to mute your frustrated screams or restrain your quivering body.

Dan Heng seems to be saying something, though you can’t hear much beyond the roaring, thumping, and throbbing in your ears. You do get his point, though, when you feel his hands traveling slowly down the sides of your frame, intentionally so that you can process his actions and not be alerted. His hands trail across your ribs, your waist, your hips, before they settle on the bottom of your sleep shorts, peeling the damp fabric with gentle tugs. He does the same with your panties underneath, and discards both somewhere far beyond your care.

Dan Heng knows you’re out of your senses, and he hesitates. He wants to be of use, but not at the cost of your comfort. If he set you off in any way, it would only worsen your already poor state. He worries away at the inside of his cheek, mind coming up with everything and nothing, and in the end, he decides to speak to you again.

“Hey,” he says, leaning closer to your ear, “do you want some water? Or do you want me to take off your shirt?”

You barely make out the first half of his questions, but you nod when he offers to help you further undress. With some effort, mainly because your body convulses whenever you experience a random bout of pain, Dan Heng’s able to remove your soaked shirt. He begins to press a towel against your forehead to wipe your face, but you jerk away, the touch of it too rough and warm for your taste. Switching gears, he holds your head up and helps you take a few drinks of water, before you choke and ultimately don’t want anymore. He’s worried because you really need it, but again, he doesn’t want to push you.

The thought returns: If only he wasn’t a beta.

This time, he can’t shake it off. He stares at you, observing your clumped eyelashes and tear-stricken cheeks, the bruises scattered around your body, and the weakness in your muscles as they spasm over and over again.

Yet, somehow, in your delirium, you gaze up at him with dazed eyes and an equally dopey smile, as if your heat’s not as serious as it looks, as if you’re simply content that he’s beside you, even if he can’t do anything for you.

And that’s because you feel exactly that way. Despite what the doctors have said, you know your heats aren’t a peculiar product of your genetics or physical nature because they haven’t always been painful and disparaging. Your heats have simply become a manifestation of what you experienced before you joined the Express, events that, to this day, you can’t even bear to think back to, yet they continue to linger, haunt, and poison your state of mind. Besides, now that you have Dan Heng, it’s not like you want a mate, and in this regard, you can say with confidence that you’ve made great strides in overcoming your fear of betas.

On the other hand, had Dan Heng been an alpha, you don’t think you would’ve ever allowed yourself to get close to him. You wouldn’t have let him see you in heat like this, let alone help you through it. In fact, you don’t think you would’ve ever cared much about him at all. You’re sure that Dan Heng wouldn’t be all that different even if he was an alpha, but you never want to try your luck with one again.

The hours pass by slowly, with you clutching onto the remnants of your bearings as you continue to ride out your heat. Dan Heng assists whenever he can, feeding you snacks and fruit juice and painkillers when you feel up for it, otherwise scenting you as he holds you tightly in his embrace. He does his best to check in with you when it looks like you’re more lucid, and as the days progress, he can see your strength and conscience returning.

When your heat’s over eight days later, neither of you talk much about it. You apologize to him and the rest of the crew for your disturbance, to which everyone dismisses with understanding words of affirmation, and that’s really it.

But one thing’s for certain. You scent him more often now, even if both of you know it won’t stay for long, and you stay overnight at the archives more frequently. You spend more time with him in general, and more and more, you leave gentle touches and marks on him, while allowing him to do the same to you. While Dan Heng would prefer for the two of you to eventually acknowledge and discuss what had happened, he doesn’t particularly want to rush you into having the conversation either. After all, you seem to be doing better, and when your next heat comes…

The two of you will cross that bridge. Together.

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stuckinmymind22 · 2 months ago

Note

Hello Please could you write a Shanks x you. They were apprentice lovers on the pirate king's ship. After the crew separated, y/n disappeared. When Shanks found out about her, she had become a marine and didn't remember it. Oh, at least she pretended not to be. But Shanks knew what to do. She wouldn't become a marine just like that. Something happened, and he would find out and get her out of that stupid organization. Please, your work is incredible. I'll send you a gift. Take care. I hope you can accept my request.

open book | shanks x gn! reader

hi anon! first of all sorry for the late reply i know it's been a while. also thank you so much!!! when i saw this in my inbox i had an idea right away, i've been chipping away at it this past month, it helps my brain to be able to hop between projects and i kept returning to this one it was very fun to write so thank you for the inspiration (and the gift, can't forget that) love you and thanks for reading the silly things i write 💕

tags: lowkey hurt/comfort, very bittersweet, first love reunited years later, canon typical violence, drinking, swearing, suggestive (it always is with this man let's be honest), ambiguous ending ig (in my head it all works out lol)

wc: 5.9 k

a/n: i told myself i cannot go to bed until i finally finished this so if we see any typos or mistakes no we didn't, just know i tried lol

Shanks heard your laugh before he saw you. That sound wasn't something that he'd easily forget. It had been years, nearing decades at this point, since he'd hast heard it, but it was unmistakable. Shanks had never forgotten about you. How could he? You were his one regret. An injury that never healed quite right.

He hadn't understood his feelings for you until it had been much too late — until you'd been too far out of his reach. By the time he had realized how he felt, you had become impossible to find. He had tried, over the years he'd made many attempts to track you down, but nothing ever came up. All traces of you were gone, it'd been like you never even existed.

After all of this time, finally getting confirmation that you were alive lifted a weight from his shoulders — one he hadn't known he'd been holding. He looked around the dingy bar to find you. The prospect of seeing you again made him feel giddy. The feeling brought him back to his youth, to the last time you'd seen each other. It was far too late to change anything — he knew that — but talking to you one more time might finally bring him the closure he was missing.

When he spotted you, his heart stopped, but not in a good way. HE could barely believe his eyes. Yes, you were there, but you were wearing the unmistakable uniform of a marine. A rear admiral. There was no fucking way. He knew it had been years and things had changed, but there was no way you had changed that much. Maybe he had simply drank too much and was seeing things wrong, hallucinating even. At least that would make sense.

Shanks squeezed his eyes shut (a good substitute for rubbing them, he'd found) and looked again. The same scar on your forehead, one he'd watched you receive. The smile was the same, everything lined up with his memory. There was no more denying it. It was you. And you were a goddamn marine — or at least in one of their uniforms... interacting with the unit like you knew them.

Something was off, it had to be.

You had fucking hated the marines, and the World Government as a whole. At least you had the last time he'd seen you. He remembered the drunken rants you would go on, airing out all your qualms with the government — those rants he had always enjoyed, your animated passion had made them quite entertaining. Everything about the picture in front of him went against the very core of what he knew about you.

Truthfully, he had long suspected that you'd disappeared into the Revolutionary Army and that was why you'd been impossible to find. That was a seed that Beckman had planted in his mind early on, but it made perfect sense. There was more to this than Shanks knew — he wouldn't believe anything else — and he would be damned if he didn't figure out what.

The rest of the night he kept his eyes on you, clinging to the shadows. He was grateful that he was alone, it had made it far easier to avoid detection. He knew he was a wanted man, being spotted would make more difficult to decipher whatever the hell was actually going on.

As he had suspected (and hoped), you barely drank. Even when your soldiers urged you on, you abstained. While those around you were having fun and lowering their guard, you stayed alert. At one point in the night, you caught his eyes. A look of recognition and shock passed by briefly before you turned away, pretending you hadn't seen him.

Throughout it all, his feelings started to become more complex as memories of your time together came flooding back to him. You had been so close. The two of you had gone from best friends to lovers to... nothing. That still stung. Teenage heartbreak had a funny way of sticking around. It was true what they say, how you never forget your first love.

You got more chummy with your fellow marines as the night wore on, and, for some reason, it became harder and harder for him to witness. When one of them slung his arm around you, pulling you close, Shanks felt his temper flare. You were no longer teenagers and you were no longer together, he reminded himself. He had no claim to you and you had no obligation to him, but he couldn't keep watching it.

Shanks left the bar, but he hadn't given up yet. He wasn't going to let you go a second time, at least not until he got some answers.

~~~~~~~

It was all starting to get too much for you; your rowdy comrades were enough on their own, but seeing him again had been the real nail in the coffin. You needed a break from it all and you needed a damn cigarette. You excused yourself and stepped out into the cold night air, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Seeing Shanks on posters and hearing about him all the time at "work" tugged on your heartstrings enough, reigniting a sense of longing. But being in his presence? That was a whole different beast. You still missed him, there was no denying it. A part of your heart never stopped longing for him, even after all this time. He'd been your first...everything. Your naive, idealistic younger self had once thought he'd be your last too. Unfortunately, life had gotten in the way.

The disbandment of the Roger Pirates and your captain’s execution had spelt the end for you two. He’d set out to sea, as you’d always known he would. He had invited you to come with him and you told him you would think about it, but that was the last time you saw him. You ended up wandering for a while before you found yourself in the arms of the Revolutionary Army at its infancy. With your strong ideology it had been a natural progression for you. Plus, you got seasick way too much to be a pirate — ironic now that you were playing the part of a marine.

Lighter in hand and cigarette in mouth, you walked further from the bar and way from the noise. Suddenly, you were yanked into an alleyway as you passed by, met with a question and a pair of familiar eyes. “Since when do you smoke?” Your mouth fell open, cigarette falling to the ground. Shanks. It took everything in you to not reach out an touch him, to confirm that you weren’t dreaming, but the point of contact on your arm had already proven that he was in front of you.

A soft whisper of his name slipped from your lips, and he smiled at you. Shanks had always liked his name in your voice — it had matured with time, but it was still uniquely yours. “Hey, Doll.” Your eyes widened in surprise as you took in the situation. Simply saying his name wouldn’t blow your cover — you were a marine in the New World, of course you would recognize him — but the way your heart was racing might. At least nobody was around to witness it.

God, you hadn’t been this close to him in years; breath intermingling, standing practically chest to chest. It felt almost ridiculous to still be this impacted by him, but you couldn’t help it. How long had these emotions lied dormant? A highlight reel of all your memories with him started playing. You were snapped out of it when he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently called your name — your real one, not the one you had been using.

You needed to pull it together, you couldn’t afford to slip an inch when you had come this far. But, damnit, it was hard. If you were better at this, you probably would’ve raised attention to his presence, like you should have done before. You had to fulfill your role as a good little marine, and a good marine would alert to his presence. But the limit of what you were willing to do only went so far, and you could never bring yourself to hurt him. Any potential consequence to your silence didn’t matter in the moment.

“What the hell happened to you?” Shanks asked, maneuvering his body in a way that would shield you from being visible to people on the street. “Why are you a marine?” His usual easy going voice had been laced with concern and confusion. You wanted to tell him the truth, you wanted to tell him so bad. He had always been your weakness, but you had a job to do.

“Are you okay? Did something happen? Do you need help? Is someone forcing you to do this? Do they have something on you?” His continued on, uncharacteristically worried. As far as Shanks was concerned becoming a marine (especially one that had risen through the ranks) was antithetical to everything you stood for — against your very nature.

He saw the pang of remorse in your expression and realized you wanted to tell him. You weren’t keeping quiet out of fear either, that eased his anxieties. Thinking about it, you had seen him much earlier but you hadn’t done anything about it, and you weren’t now either. It confirmed that you weren’t in this position due a newfound love of the government or a sense of heavy handed justice — you had a motive. It was written all over your face, confirming that you were still you.

For some reason, the reassurance wasn’t enough, he desperately needed to know what the motive was. Shanks knew he shouldn’t push and that it should be enough to know that you were up to something, but that wasn’t stopping him. Shanks tried listing off possible reasons and gauging your reaction, but he was getting nowhere. Either you had become much better at keeping a poker face and hiding your tells or he was severely out of practice when it came to you.

You couldn’t respond or even open your mouth, you knew you could never keep things from him. Shanks had an uncanny ability to read you and figure out what you were hiding — it had annoyed the hell out of you and Buggy growing up, but here it could be harmful. Not that you didn’t trust him, but there were so many unknown variables in the area, you couldn’t trust your surroundings. There was no guarantee that you wouldn’t be overheard or seen. Letting him touch you was dangerous enough, but you were about to do something more risky.

Reaching up, you touched his face, cupping his cheek. Shanks went quiet right away, his breath hitching. It was fascinating to see that you still had that effect on him. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who had spent years being plagued by unresolved feelings, occasionally lying awake thinking of all the “what ifs”.

But this would be your last time seeing him. It had to be. You wanted to soak it all in, remembering everything about him. The universe, however, seemed to hate that idea, calls for you rang out on the street in a drunken chorus. Your unit was looking for you. It was time to go.

~~~~~~~

The next day one of your subordinates had seen members of the Red Hair pirates and had decided to be a big shot about it, picking a fight. It had been really fucking stupid of him to go after members of a Yonko’s personal crew, but he had. And now everyone had to bear the brunt of the consequences. Being dragged into an altercation, especially one involving Shanks and his crew, was something you wanted no part in. Honestly, you wanted to strangle the man for causing such a mess, but you had to act your part.

As the highest ranking official on the island and his superior, you were forced to step in and clean the mess up. The fight had already drawn blood by the time you had been alerted about it, which limited options in how to stop it without losing face. You came to the conclusion that the only way out was through, you just hoped casualties would be limited on either side.

Naturally, and unfortunately, you ended up facing the captain of the crew — a man you knew very well and someone you couldn’t bring yourself to injure. It appeared that Shanks felt the same way. Neither of you were willing to put forth any effort in this fight. It was a dance for than anything. A forced performance.

You were backed into a corner, so close to your objective, but you needed to play it carefully. You knew that you were next in line for a promotion, one that you did not want or need yet. Saying no to the offer would raise eyebrows, so you had been trying to find a way to push back your consideration. It had to be done in a way where you didn’t lose too much prestige either, you were walking a fine line. While you were going through the motions of a fight with Shanks, you were considering your exit strategies. Backing down and withdrawing, while reasonable, would decrease your standing too much. Being defeated however…

Shanks was not worried about his crew at all, he trusted they could handle it, especially considering the state of the marines. What he did know was that you would not be engaging in this if you hadn’t deemed it as necessary, and if that was the case he didn’t mind putting on a show. You were scowling but underneath that was an expression of concentration, you were plotting and scheming. He would’ve smiled at it if it weren’t for the current situation. Watching you come do a decision was something he had always found cute, and that still held true.

With your mind made up and your swords interlocked, you inched closer to the yonko still wearing a forced snarl. “Shanks,” you gritted out with no malice. Calling out his name had him soften ever so slightly, which you used to your advantage. “You need to incapacitate me. I’ll give you an opening and you cut me, okay?”

The man looked at you like you had lost your damned mind, taking a step back but you chased after him. “You need to take me down,” you reiterated, trying to convey your sense of urgency. “What the hell are you on about?” That was your idea? He couldn’t believe that you were asking that of him. “I need you to trust me,” the angry expression on your face was undermined by the plea in your eyes. You glanced around to remind him of the situation, slowly, you watched him understand your reasoning.

The last thing Shanks wanted to do was hurt you, but you had determined that would be the best outcome. He didn’t fully understand why or what you would accomplish by it, but he trusted you. A barely perceivable nod told you that he agreed. You released a sigh of relief and braced yourself for what was to come. With gritted teeth, Shanks raised his sword and brought it down; you allowed the blade to slash you. Your blood splattered onto him and he felt like he was going to be sick. Right away you collapsed to the ground; it was hard for Shanks to know how much of that was acting and how much was his doing.

“I’m sorry,” he told you as he sheathed his sword, not willing to look at you. You thanked him in a strained voice, and weakly rose to your feet. The skirmish was over. He played his part, now you had to play yours.

You ordered a full retreat and to treat the wounded right way -- there was about as many as you had expected, and to your sick sense of satisfaction, the man who started the mess was on the ground. The pirates got away with minor scrapes, but the same could not be said for your side. You could not believe the ego on some of these men for thinking they could go against them

Instead of going to receive treatment for the large gash that was dying your clothes red, you stayed put. Watching Shanks disappear again, reopening the scarred over hole in your heart.

~~~~~~~

Following the shit show of a fight, you had been brought to a marine hospital, where you were currently stuck. The doctors fussed over you almost to the point you wished you'd just died (not really, but wow was it a lot). You had finally been granted some peace and quiet when your transponder snail rang, and not the marine issued one.

"He's asking too many questions." The voice of the Revolutionary Army's chief of staff, Sabo, rang out the moment you picked up. The kid was nothing if not direct. "Get him to stop."

"Not even gonna see if I'm alright," you teased him before he could hang up. "You sound alive to me." The smile in his voice was audible. "Go fix it." With that Sabo cut the call. Without waiting for a response or providing any further information. That damn kid. He had pretty much always been like that, ever since you met him as a child.

It had been risky for him to call you while you were practically in a lion's den, Sabo might be bad at communicating but he wasn't dumb. The fact that he had called you here and now meant that it was a priority — whatever it was that you had to do. You had a pretty good guess as to what that had been about (Shanks), but you wouldn’t draw conclusions with no further details. Either way, you had to make the preparations to set out.

Your doctors had been reluctant to discharge you, but you had managed to convince them with a made up story about your hometown and the threat of pulling rank. You were grateful for your status as a rear admiral, it had made it much easier for you to acquire the supplies you needed for a journey without anyone asking questions. The only thing that raised an eyebrow was asking about an unmarked ship, but you dropped it and chose to rent a civilian one instead.

Once you left the range of the marine’s surveillance capabilities, after completing preparations and setting off, you called headquarters for more information. To your surprise (and relief) you were transferred to Dragon himself, at least he would give you complete answers.

“I heard you got hurt, how badly injured are you?” He asked in place of a greeting. “Not enough to be worried about,” you responded. It was the truth, but you left out the part about how, depending on where you were going and what you were doing, you might have to push yourself. You informed him that you had a couple of weeks of explained and excused absence. You could practically hear the man nod. Before you could ask any clarifying questions about the mission, Dragon spoke.

“He didn’t tell you anything did he?” He sounded tired. Sabo was known for doing that sort of thing. While frustrating at times, you all loved him deeply. Sabo was really smart and dedicated to the cause, which was how he managed to become second in command as a teenager. “No. He just told me to go fix it.” Dragon sighed, muttering something about “that kid,” making you smile.

“Red Hair Shanks is asking around about you, using both names too.” You had figured that was the case, but you were a bit surprised, connecting your name and your alias like that was dangerous. Dragon had a vague knowledge of your history with the man, so he didn’t bother questioning why the pirate would do that.

“You know we can’t have him sniffing around like that. What happens when a yonko asks questions? People find the answer. I don’t need to tell you the consequences, but if we found out he’s doing it, the marines won’t be too far behind, which is why we gotta nip it in the bud. We can’t afford to lose this operation. I don’t know or care why he’s doing it, just get him to stop.”

~~~~~~~

After he’d left, Shanks had been in a mood. One that the majority of the crew had never seen before. He was quieter than usual, drinking more (an accomplishment tbh), and laughing less — it wasn’t that noticeable unless you looked for it, or you were with him 24/7. he wasn't the best at playing it off tbfh. He could manage most of the time, it wasn't too hard, but when he got alone it was worse.

He felt stupid for being this affected by it all. Some of it made sense, like worrying about your well being, but drowning in emotions from over a decade ago? That felt rather pathetic. He supposed that was just what he got for bottling it all up. He had gone as far as stopping talking about you, at one point you were one of his favorite people. Not many people knew what you had meant to him at one point and even less had been around to witness it. It felt wrong to confide in others about the grave he’d dug, so he kept it to himself.

He was in his thirties for fucks sake, he couldn’t be wallowing like a teenager experiencing heartbreak for the first time — he had important things to do — but that’s what it was.

. You had been separated far longer than you had even known each other, he should be alright. But he wasn’t. Everything was so confusing and Shanks had no clue how to sort through it all.

Not only was he stuck dwelling in the unprocessed pain from his youth, which wasn’t fun by itself, but what was worse was the sinking feeling in his stomach that he’d killed you. In his mind he knew that it wasn’t a fatal blow, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he would live with himself if it was. The longer he went without any news on your condition the worse that feeling got.

When he was alerted of a sole, unmarked ship approaching them on the horizon a few days later, he actually thought about if it was worth checking — it was that bad. But he was glad that he did.

He borrowed someone's telescope already set at the right focus (there really was no good way to do that himself anymore) and looked. He thought that he saw you messing with the sail, but that couldn't be right. He passed the telescope to Beckman, who had (annoyingly) been keeping a close eye on him{ the past few days}, and asked the man to describe what he saw. It matched. What the fuck?

A series of emotions washed over Shanks, the man one being relief. He now knew that you were alive, and you were well enough to man a ship solo. The captain kept checking on the ship periodically, just to make sure he was right with what he saw. The closer the vessel came, the more certain he was, and the better he felt. Shanks damn near did a 180, falling back into himself.

~~~~~~~

The first thing Shanks noticed when you were climbing aboard was how you looked damn near green. The sight made him crack a smile. “Still don’t got your sea legs, do ya?” The emperor teased as he helped you over the railing. You let out a short laugh, trying to control the nausea. Hopefully a larger and sturdier ship would make it better. “Is it that obvious?”

You stood on your own two feet, holding strong while you put on a brave face. But he could tell. He always could. Shanks got a better look at you and realized that there was freshly dried blood on your clothes, directly over where he had cut you. Seeing the consequences of his actions like that made him feel uneasy, but it was just like you to open up a wound like that. He sighed and looked you in the eyes. To be honest, you had forgotten about that entirely. You smiled at him sheepishly.

“Glad to see you haven’t changed a bit,” he said before calling out for who you assumed was the ship’s doctor and leading you to a more isolated part of the deck. “It seems you changed a little,” Your eyes flickered from the scars on his eye to where his dominant arm used to be, neither of which had been like that the last you spoke. “S’pose I have,” he said with a smile. He sat you down with your back to the ship before leaning against the railing in front of you.

Without your permission, your eyes scanned the rest of his body, very blatantly checking him out. Shanks raised an eyebrow at the action and you decided to just commit. “I like it. You look good. Like really good.” He laughed at the very conspicuous flirtation. He supposed one thing had changed, you had gotten more bold. “I can say the same to you, Doll. Time’s done you well. ‘M almost jealous.” Shanks said, his smirk widening when you grew flustered by his words. Whatever you were going to say died in your mouth at the arrival of the doctor.

The man hoveredyou over briefly, zoning in on the bloody fabric of your clothes. “What happened?” The doctor asked. “I was bleeding,” you said cheekily. While the man stayed stone faced, Shanks let out a laugh, and you grinned over at him. “I can see that,” the poor doctor sounded tired, like he had to deal with this behavior all the time. “How’d it reopen?”

“The doctors told me to take it “easy” but I guess weathering a storm solo isn’t easy,” you answered, removing bloody shirt. What lied below was your crude attempt at patching yourself back up.

“Darlin’ I could’ve told you that,” Shanks teased. You scrunched your nose back at him, a former habit of yours, causing him to laugh.

Shanks made the mistake of looking directly at the freshly unwrapped injury. He felt sick — knowing he was the one who put you in that state nearly made him ill. He had been feeling guilty for days, even if it wasn’t fatal he still hurt you significantly. Sure, it was far from the worst injury he’d seen (especially with his lifestyle), but it was different this time, because this time it was you. And he did that.

You saw his reaction. This was what you’d been worried about. “Shanks,” you called for his attention. “I’m okay.” The attempt at being reassuring was undercut by the wince from the antiseptic you couldn’t hide. “Seriously,” you said looking him in the eyes, “you helped me out. Thank you”

He didn’t know how you could be thanking him for that, but at your insistence he let it go. With one last look, Shanks swallowed the lump in his throat. “What brings you all the way out here?” He asked.

He wasn’t about to complain at getting the chance to see you again, under better circumstances too, but he also was completely confused on why. It hadn’t escaped him that you were there all by yourself, without your uniform, and how the little ship you had come in on had no trace of government insignia.

Instead of any verbal response, you used your eyes to point to the doctor, who was busy fixing the stitches you’d torn. Shanks nodded, understanding that it was a topic for a more private setting, so he shifted gears. “Tell, what’s new with you?” Also something you couldn’t answered, for the same reasons. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes, opting to shake your head with a smile. You directed the question back onto him. Listening to him tell his stories with a big grin. This. This felt familiar.

When your wound had been cleaned, treated, and redressed, Shanks sent the doctor away with a thanks. He stood up straight and offered you a hand. “Come on, let’s go talk,” he said, pointing to the cabin with his head. You let him help you up and followed behind him, laughing when he snagged a freshly opened bottle out from under someone and continued to walk. “For real?” The man with dreads and a bandana complained as if it was a common occurrence, which would not surprise you. “Sorry, Yasopp, I’ll give it back to you later.” Shanks responded, raising the bottle above his head. “Yeah, empty,” the man grumbled to himself. A loud laugh from the captain confirmed that that would indeed be the case.

Shanks led you through the ship, opening the door to his office while still holding the bottle with ease. Clearly it was a skill he had a lot of practice in lol. He held the door for you, shutting it behind him.

“You still on duty, Rear Admiral?” He asked. You made a gagging noise at the title, “Don’t remind me.” His grin grew at your reply, he had known that was out of character for you. Typically, you would never dream of displaying this kind of contempt for your position outside of the Army’s headquarters, but you trusted this man with your life so your usual regulations were loosened. “—Or can I offer you a drink?” He continued, shanking the open bottle in his hand, spilling some in the process. “Shit,” he said automatically, pouting at the loss [it’d be funny if he licked his hand bc so real bro]. “Yeah, sure,” you laughed.

You sat down at the desk and watched Shanks. The posters hadn’t done him justice. He was rummaging around in cabinets, looking for some glasses (because this man cared about portion sizes lol). It was almost surreal to see him again. To be able to hear his voice, his laugh, his breathing, to see his smile and the way his eyes sparkled, to be able to smell him — all things you had thought had been long lost to your memory. You pinched yourself to double check that this was really happening. The reset, while confirming you were not dreaming, set you back on track. This was not a personal visit, no matter how much you wanted it to be. You had a set of obligations to fulfill and responsibilities to uphold.

“Look… Shanks…” You started, capturing his attention and interrupting his pouring into the glasses he had just found. “You have to stop asking around about me.” You couldn’t bring yourself to include how you should never try to contact each other either — at least while you remained undercover and the time table for that was unclear.

Shanks pursed his lips and nodded. A moment of silence passed and he poured out the next glass. “I figured that’s why you came,” he admitted, sounding defeated as he slid a full glass of whatever he’d just poured across the desk to you. “What are you even doing there?” He asked, falling into his chair.

This time, the silence was your fault. You were trying to determine how much you could let him know. Shanks sighed and set his already emptied cup down. “The Revolutionary Army or pirates?” “W-what are you talking about?” Calmly, he refiled his glass, focused on how the liquid fell. “Who are you working for? No way in hell your loyalty lies with the World Government.” He said looking you in the eyes and downing his drink.

He knew? Of course he knew. You should have known. You were practically an open book to him.

“Army.”

“I figured,” he smiled, refilling both your glasses.

~~~~~~~

Over halfway through the bottle the conversation had gotten more relaxed. Over time, you had naturally moved closer together, now, you were barely a foot apart. Shanks sat on top of the desk, his foot mindlessly toying with your shin. His eyes shinned as you recounted some of the countless tales you had acquired since you last spoke. You hadn’t realized how the man hung onto your every word.

When it was his turn to play storyteller, you were just as attentive. You took in his words eagerly, occasionally offering some of your own. It just felt right — so much had changed, but yet so little.

The kids you had known each other as no longer existed, you had both seen some shit and gotten rougher around the edges, but traces of them lingered. Shanks still had the same magnetic personality you’d always known, and the smile that you used to dream about, the one that had a history of making your knees weak. The damned heart of yours had been skipping beats like a child on the playground. It was all very strange. You had never thought you’d feel that way again, but that was something for you to deal with another day. Now, now, you wanted to stay in the moment before it faded away.

Shanks was deep into recounting how he met people on his crew and how long it had taken to convince one of them to join [yasopp waited like 10 years or something lol] You leaned in, looking up at him, wide eyes bright — it was a sight that shouldn’t be as breathtaking as it was. He nearly faltered, but managed to power through. You had always had that effect on him and he doubted you even knew.

A first relationship, like yours, was bound to be rocky with ineffective communication and struggling to understand feelings. When you had unofficially departed there had been many things left unsaid. At the time, he hadn’t known he wouldn’t see you again, maybe if he had he would have said something different, but at the same time he’d just been a stupid kid. It had taken time to understand what you had and what he’d lost. Truthfully, he had never let himself realize the full extent of how much he had missed you.

The worst part of it all was knowing that it couldn’t last. He understood that you had a life of your own and duties to fulfill, just like he did. Shanks knew full well that he wouldn’t fit in the picture, and he told himself that he was fine with that, but why did it hurt?

Your words trailed off in the middle of sharing a story about the formation of the Revolutionary Army with Shanks. “You can’t look at me like that,” you told him, your voice low and guarded. “Like what?” He had no idea how he had been looking at you. “Like you still want me,” your voice had weakened, a vulnerability had crept in. The response took him by surprise but he recovered quickly.

“Would that really be so bad?”

He was right… would it really be so bad?

few quick things: i love sillies who don't know how to deal with emotions in a healthy productive way, i have made the executive decision that their love is like riding a bike, you never forget it, also i totally cried writing this lmao, my bad

i love you all and thank you for reading, don't forget to drink water and have a good day (or go to sleep idk)

masterlist | silly things | directory

#pretty sure this is my first request too so that's exciting #shanks x reader #one piece x reader #x reader #canon post #request #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #gn reader

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wiltkingart · 5 months ago

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on a real note thank you for the enthusiastic reception re: mtmtm, or at the very least meeting it with open curiosity. i have been into horror for a very long time but it has not ever been a big focus in my art, so there was no way to really guess how it would be received. when all was said and done i had a book i loved writing, in all its gore and sex and questionable themes (and bugs) but i did not know if i would have the audience for it. if anyone other than my close friends and generous beta readers would have an interest in reading it. the past 3 months have shown me there is an audience for grotesque transgender horror gore porn, fairy pseudo mpreg, mindless meat orgies, horseboys, and medical malpractice woundfucking right in my very backyard, and it is equal measures kind and curious and horny. maybe i shouldnt be surprised that that the unmarketable monsterfucker tranny pervert website liked my unmarketable monsterfucker tranny pervert book. but i am. i feel very lucky. this has exceeded my wildest hopes. thank you for giving my little passion project a chance 🦂

#<3 #i hope this kindness does not end with me #and that we can support more trans writers making books that are perhaps difficult to tell others about #because i get it!#so the fact that mtmtm has been shared around means a lot #and i wish for a world where more trans writers can feel confident putting out their own passion books in a similar vein #that is all. thank you and good night :-)

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raveninfog · 7 months ago

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Secrecy.

Authors note- hi everyone! I’m pretty new to all this and this is my first shot at writing. I’ve always been a spectator, just waiting on amazing authors to update their fics to reading one shots in the middle of the night cause I can’t sleep. I’ve always had ideas in my head about how I’d write and I decided to finally give it a try. Hopefully you’d all enjoy it. Also with that being said, please don’t be afraid to give me some advice on how I can get better as time goes on. 🫶🏼

Enjoy my loves!

Warnings- flirting, light swearing, nicknames, based in the late 40s. Kissing. Sneaking around, Best friend’s older brother. Sergeant James Barnes. Reader is 20 while Bucky is 24.

Genre- Oneshot! Fluff! Best Friends Brother.

You were sitting there at the dining table with your best friend Rebecca. Working on a school project you had to finish with her for your history class. Books laid out in front of you, papers, pencils. The sound of the front door opening was heard since the dining room was right by the front door of the small home. It was him, Rebecca’s older brother bucky. He was home from the base quite early today.

You’ve had a crush on him for a while, how couldn’t you? He was a sergeant, in the military, about to go fight in the war in a couple months. That crush reciprocated from Bucky, it had seemed like he felt the same way about you too. Which later came out to be very true. So you two had a little secret, a little secret relationship..no one knew about.

Not even Rebecca.

As you saw Rebecca get up and go to the kitchen to grab some snacks, Bucky came up behind you. He knew this was the perfect time too. The kitchen wall blocked off the area of the living room you were in. Your head turning to the side to where he was as you heard him, before he leaned in and kissed your lips passionately. His lips met in a fiery clash, soft yet insistent, moving with a rhythm that spoke of longing and urgency with yours. The warmth of his touch was intoxicating, every brush sending shivers down your spine. It was the way your lips fit perfectly within his, moving in sync, that made everything else fade into the background—a perfect balance of softness and intensity, leaving you two breathless and wanting more.

His lips were pliant and eager, parting slightly to deepen the connection, to draw the you closer. There was a slight pressure, firm and deliberate, as if to imprint the moment into a memory. The sensation was both tender and consuming, each movement speaking of unspoken words, of desire that couldn't be contained.

You were caught off guard of course, especially when you had turned your head and there was your boyfriend. You felt his lips on yours, before closing your eyes and kissing him back. The way he had bent down and had his hand on the back of your head, tilted upwards to get a good angle of your perfect lips on his . The warmth of your own breath and his mingled, and the world around you two faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your hearts and lips together.

“Is this how you say hello?...” you whispered to him in between kisses, when you pulled away just slightly for him to capture your lips again in a split second for a moment.

You could feel him pull away, to see if Rebecca was still in the kitchen. Hell, he could hear Rebecca going through the cabinets to find snacks or something.

To his luck, she was still in the kitchen. You had felt his lips right back on yours once again without even saying a single thing to you until he had finally pulled away to speak. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumb moving onto your cheek bone and caressing it gently before his thumb slid down to your bottom lip doing the same.

His lips curled into a soft smirk, his perfect little doll he absolutely adored with all his god damn being. It was almost surprisingly how Rebecca didn’t notice her big brother look at her own best friend with love in his eyes for you.

“What else do you want? A little love tap?” He teased you as he ran his thumb against your chin now.

You finally felt him pull his hands away from you, standing up straight as he fixed his uniform and took a shuffle back just in time as Rebecca had made her way back with some tea she had made. God, Rebecca was so oblivious to the point where it felt too easy. Too easy to the point it felt god damn suspicious.

“Let’s get this project over with so we can go to bed, unless you want Bucky to drive you home Y/N.” Becca said, setting the mug of tea in front you before taking a seat in the chair. Her face having a clear look of annoyance at the papers in front of her.

Bucky turned his head, looking at his little sister because he took a glance at you and cleared his throat a little.

“Why not tell dad to drop her off?” He spoke up. It felt like torture to say that, but he knew he had to play the game of keeping the relationship a secret.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and looked at her older brother before snickering at him.

“Well hello to you too, Why wouldn’t you wanna drop your girlfriend off?”

“WHAT?!” You and Bucky say in sync, shock spreading on his face while your cheeks turned completely red.

“What do you mean wha- oh come on, did you guys REALLY think I was that stupid..you guys aren’t exactly the best at hiding things. Especially since you two are always making out somewhere in the damn house.”

Buckys cheeks turned red as he rubbed the back of his neck, he honestly didn’t know what the hell to say to his little sisters revelation about her knowing everything. Clearly you were embarrassed, not to mention shocked about your best friend knowing. God you knew you and Bucky weren’t ever gonna hear the end of this. Not in a bad way really, more in an annoying way where she’d bring it up at every occasion she sees.

“Uh well…I-If that’s the case then yeah..I’ll drop Y/N off…unless she’s sleeping over.” Bucky said, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Ugh pervert..” Becca muttered in disgusted.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months ago

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Raven pls help a fellow out🙏 Do you know any website that sells cheap but good enough twst merch? I can't find any decent ones that aren't just pins:(

Wow, Mr. Fellow Honest himself is coming to me asking for help?/j

I don't normally give this kind of advice, but I figured I might as well since it's the holiday season and maybe people are looking for Twst merch to gift to themselves or to others. I included pros and cons along with each suggestion. Whether you decide to look into that particular method or not is up to you!

(Note that most of the time these are second-hand options, which will usually be cheaper than buying directly from Twst and/or collaborating companies at retail price.)

Book-Off

Pros: (generally) cheaper than other locations that import anime and manga goods, easy to find pins/badges and plushies here Cons: because the items are often unsold merch... quality may vary (check item before you buy), may not be able to find merch of your desired character, physical store locations are not organized by series so you'll probably have to spend a long time digging for what you want

Mercari

Pros: more variety of merch avaliable (including rarer stuff), can haggle the price and speak with individual sellers to negotiate or bundle goods Cons: may need to pay for delivery + other additional fees, price of item may be more expensive depending on the rarity, some items may not be brand new (check listing description; it will generally indicate the condition), item may be shipping from other countries so DOUBLE CHECK where it is shipping from before committing to the purchase or you'll be slapped with an expensive shipping fee to pay

Suruga-ya

Pros: excellent variety of merch, merch is often listed in yen so the price tends to be cheap, shipping is relatively fast (it doesn't take like A Month to get to you), quality is generally good Cons: shipping can be very expensive (unless you catch the site during a period in which they offer free shipping and/or do a group order to split the shipping costs with others)

fan artists!!

(Totally biased opinion, I recommend them the most 🥰)

Pros: you get to have a more unique piece of merch that's made from another fan's passion and love for Twst, you support a small independent creator

Cons: may not be financially feasible in some cases (for example, fanmade plushies may be more expensive than the mass produced official nuis are), fan artists are limited in the types of merch they can create if they don't have the means for bigger projects (like apparel, bags, etc.), you have to do your own research on who sells Twst fan merch (there is no centralized list or platform where all Twst fan merch sellers congregate)

Hope this helps, and best of luck with the merch hunt~

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst merch #twisted wonderland merch #advice #question #notes from the writing raven #Fellow Honest #Ernesto Foulworth

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sgiandubh · 7 months ago

Note

As a woman who devoured 6 seasons of Outlander in 3 months

I find that Sam was very brilliant in his performance in the first season

Look at him here, even his voice was different and masculine

I don't know why in the following parts he was pulled into the artificial performance style

Even his tone of voice was changed to a ridiculous tone

I find that Sam's creativity was killed and Jamie character was made ridiculous as they presented him to us

Yes they succeeded in that.. But they couldn't change him, he is the crazy chemistry between Sam and Caitriona behind the scenes .

Dear Creativity Anon,

Bearing in mind I distractedly watched the first episode of 7B and not at all the second one, I think this calls for a more nuanced approach.

I do agree with you S was stellar all the way up to Season 4, when things started to spiral downwards, somewhat. I think it's obvious and I don't think we do him - or ourselves, morally speaking - any favors trying to put on a brave face and ignore facts. While C was, in my humble opinion, the weakest link in Season 1, she slowly started to be more comfortable with Claire and have a better understanding and intuition of that character from Season 2 onwards, only to accompany S down the drain at the same above mentioned point on the show's timeline. I am sorry if that sounds brutal to some - blind, enamored fangirling never quite did it for me, but constructive critic is always my cup of tea.

We could probably spend the rest of the night debating reasons and consequences, Anon, much of which are well known - and carefully denied - by many in this fandom. And while many might ascribe the 'new', later seasons S to an older JAMMF character he doesn't seem to master as perfectly as young, fresh faced JAMMF, I agree with you that he looks perfunctorily disinterested too many times for my liking. But then so does C, a woman her Stans worship the earth she's treading upon all day long, while nastily belittling her co-star and - remember, ROFLMAO - Partner Everyday. In a nutshell, the older JAMMF is a formulaic shadow of the fascinatingly versatile younger self and the older CEBRF is a frowning matron, with a passion for ether and terrible, terrible pitch. This is why I have always said I would like to see them both being offered the opportunity to create totally new characters, in totally new projects that would send them out of their respective acting comfort zones. That would be the real litmus test, Anon: not the feisty matriarch in Belfast, nor the endearingly stolid paramour in Love Again. They can do better, that much we know and they deserve better.

When a good, gifted actor suddenly starts to mix things up and lose it, there might be other reasons at play. And I know I will irritate many and I don't care if I do, to be honest. I am still amazed at the complete lack of discernment of this fandom's Stans. They seem to ignore the crucial accountability of that increasingly ineffective army of scriptwriters, producers (we both agree them being Exec Producers is little more than an incentive, with little real leverage on creative decisions) and directors - Matt who? directors XYZ who? And God forbid we'd bring into the mix Gabaldon's increasingly verbose, mediocre output and questionable narrative choices. Her complete lack of historical sensitivity: painting a dull Paris background while she was sitting on a cultural goldmine. Her obsessively cheap sensationalism: raping and uselessly traumatizing ALL of the main characters (why? is happiness that boring? and if so, what does this tell us about their creator?). Her abusively interspersing the intrigue with uninteresting, obscure botanical references, while forgetting to properly tie in the narrative lines. So much so, that I began to increasingly find disagreeable to continue reading the books, from The Fiery Cross onwards. Throw rotten tomatoes at me, if you wish, but I think life is too short for bad literature. So many other formidable things to read, so many other worlds to discover - why would I, as a reader, give this contemptuous, megalomaniac lady my time and my patience, when I have Tiziano Terzani's wonderful travelogues begging for my attention, on my nightstand?

You might ask, with good reason and common sense, why am I still committed to watch the show. And the answer is simple, Anon: when I start something, I strive to properly or at least decently finish it. And despite all the #shitshow, the cruelty, the childish lies, the gaslighting, the traculas and xenas and trolls, I am still here for that love. This, Anon, is something that nobody could ever take away from Those Two, spare perhaps their lesser selves (and that is nobody's business). But I am not worried, in that department - just aware and perhaps a bit cynical, too.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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stardustvanfleet · 2 years ago

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Keep Silent - Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 7.5k

SUMMARY: It's been raining for days on end, and your boyfriend Jake suggests a romantic trip to the library to help pass the time. Knowing him, however, things don't stay innocent and cozy for long.

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. Exhibitionist/voyeur kink, fingering, filthy dirty talk with lots of degradation (slut, whore, dirty, desperate...) and praise (pretty girl, good girl, sweet girl, etc). Rough unprotected sex.

A/N: OKAY, WOW.... this fic is a long time coming. I've been working on this one for the last couple of months and I am so unbelievably excited to share it with all of you. First of all, I have to make some shoutouts-- this fic is dedicated to @jakesguitarsolo as a VERY late birthday present, ILY Jess!!! And an EXTREMELY special thanks to my beta reader and actual moon to my sun @sinsofstardust .... so many of my ideas are built alongside your equally dirty mind. I LOVE YOU COURT!! Another special thanks to @sparrowofthedawnsworld for all the encouragement as I slowly wrote out this passion project, ILY Sparrow!!! And thank you all for being so patient and reading my work... this is so incredibly fucking self-indulgent, I can't even begin to express. FIC BEGINS BELOW THE CUT!

It had been raining for over a week.

Not just a drizzle, either— it was day after day of heavy winds and sheets of rain that lashed at the window panes, with any view of the sky repeatedly choked out by lumbering, ominous gray clouds.

It wasn’t that you particularly minded rain, not really, but after days on end of being stuck indoors, the cabin fever was beginning to get to you. The apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Jake, was on the small side, and you’d already had to reschedule numerous date ideas this week that would’ve only been possible had you been able to go outside.

He must’ve noticed how antsy you had been getting, however, and today, he had a new idea— suggesting a trip to the library to pick out some books to read and movies to take home, to help pass the time while you waited for this goddamn endless rain to pass you by.

You had been so grateful for his suggestion, and not just because the weather outdoors had been making things feel a little too much like Groundhog Day. The thought of snuggling up with Jake in a cozy library for a while, reading your books and people-watching, was certainly enough to make the rain feel a little more appealing.

That had been during breakfast, a couple of hours ago. After the both of you had showered and gotten changed into some comfortable clothes worthy of a lazy Sunday but stylish enough to go out in, Jake had driven the two of you to the public library. His playlist of vintage rock was the soundtrack to your leisurely drive through the rain, but despite the unhurried pace and relaxed atmosphere, he didn’t waste any time before his flirtatious touches began– his left hand on the wheel, the right settling to rest on your upper thigh.

The touch could’ve perhaps been interpreted as innocent, but Jake clearly had other plans for the physical contact. He gently flexed his fingers, squeezing your thigh just enough for you to notice, smiling to himself at your tiny, sharp intake of breath… but never once taking his eyes off the road. All of a sudden, your heartbeat was skyrocketing. What a fucking tease.

He didn’t escalate things any further, but the feeling of his touch was nevertheless electric. As always, once he got your heart racing, it was near impossible for you to get your pulse to slow— just one example out of so many that revealed the effect he had on you. Once he got your mind in the gutter, his presence alone became something that could make you squirm. With a rush of heat to your lower stomach, you wondered if that had been his plan all along.

Your heart and mind were still going a mile a minute even a quarter of an hour later, when the two of you walked into the library hand-in-hand, heading towards the display of new fiction. As you two browsed through the titles, you found yourself taking numerous glances over at him, feeling unable to help it. He was wearing one of his softest shirts, buttoned just barely higher than usual, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, flipping through a dystopian novel with interest in his expression. His hair looked so soft… you loved those two silver necklaces dangling enticingly from his neck… and you were still close enough to take in the scent of his cologne.

While your eyes were on him, his gaze flashed up from the page, a knowing smirk forming on his face upon catching you staring. Your face immediately flushed with heat, realizing how lost in thought you had become, as you offered a bashful smile and a little shrug… to which he winked in response, which really didn’t do much in the way of helping you collect yourself. Very much the opposite, actually.

Blushing, you glanced back at the book you were holding, trying to focus your energy on reading the summary and reviews on the back cover— but god, you were horribly distracted, by both your thoughts and Jake’s awareness of the way he was already making you feel. After a few more minutes of the two of you browsing titles and picking out two each (between numerous glances that felt far too charged to be taking place in public), the two of you finally headed upstairs to find a comfortable couch where you could read and watch the rain in relative privacy… at least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

The first floor had already been relatively quiet, with only a few scattered clusters of people browsing the titles, but the second level was even more so. Looking across the numerous couches and desks nestled between bookshelves, the two of you were essentially free to take your pick of whichever spot you wanted. There seemed to only be a handful of patrons up here, no less than ten people across the entire floor; all of whom seemed to be lost in their own worlds of studying or reading, many of them wearing headphones. Your hand was in Jake’s, your fingers interlaced, and as you attempted to slow your racing heartbeat, you gestured across the room, in the direction of a more secluded corner hidden behind the biographies that you knew well as a favorite reading spot.

Jake’s eyes seemed to be scanning the room, taking in your surroundings, and you tried not to let your already wandering mind take that fact and run with it, knowing how adventurous he liked to be— in every sense of the word. You swallowed hard. Down, girl. Breathe…

To save time, instead of taking the long way around all of nonfiction, you tugged on Jake’s arm, pulling him towards a particular aisle between the shelves, saying quietly to him, “Shortcut.” He chuckled endearingly, looking down at you with that familiar twinkle in his honey-brown eyes and saying at a similarly low volume, “Lead the way, baby… show me all the secret passages.”

It was entirely subconscious that you bit your lip in response, but the way he arched his eyebrow back at you and offered a smirk as a retort made your legs feel like jelly. It was clear he was picking up on what you were feeling— regardless of whether you were communicating it intentionally. And maybe, just maybe… the fact that you couldn’t help your reactions… that was turning him on, too.

As you led him through the aisle, he had shifted so he was behind you— and you just couldn’t help walking with a bit of an extra sway in your hips. You knew where his eyes would always just happen to fall if he was right behind you… and why not take advantage of that? Without turning your head to face Jake just yet, you bit your lip playfully in anticipation before making a point of sticking your ass out towards him now that you were hidden away between the shelves, even shaking it back and forth a bit to ensure you’d catch his attention.

With that, you glanced behind you, unable to resist checking to see if he was looking… and, sure enough, you turned your head just in time to catch those half-lidded eyes of his flashing right back up to meet your gaze from where they had certainly been lingering on how nice your ass looked in those leggings. You gave him a smirk of your own, and he stepped forward just enough so that he could —so quickly you hardly processed it taking place— slip one hand just under the hem of your sweatshirt and t-shirt, letting his fingers rest against your bare skin and causing an immediate shiver to wrack your body. You were both now standing right in the middle of the aisle, but the intoxicating touch of his calloused fingertips against the sensitive skin just above your hip had left you frozen in your tracks, rooted to the spot.

Jake took another step closer to you, which left him pressed up against you from behind— the feeling of his heartbeat and heavy breaths against your back overwhelming enough without the added factor of his desire being made astonishingly clear as he pressed his hips up against your ass. With that simple action, you were both hit with the first delicious shock of friction, and your mouth immediately dropped open as Jake leaned right into your ear, his voice like velvet as he spoke, low and raspy… “You’re such a goddamn tease. Fuck… I love it.”

With Jake’s firm, hot chest right up against your back, and the overwhelming nature of the contact his hips just made with your ass, the fact that the two of you were still standing in the middle of the aisle had become something of an instant afterthought. It didn’t matter. None of it did– your mind had gone entirely blank beyond what you felt against you. Nothing else even existed besides the man who had his body pressed up against yours– and the way his lips were right up against the shell of your ear as he breathed out,

“Do you know how fucking cute you are when you’re all hot and bothered for me?”

An involuntary, high-pitched noise almost resembling a whimper threatened to escape from you– and though you were able to catch yourself before your entirely unintentional desperation ended up being loud enough to draw attention to what was going on, your body was hit with an overwhelming shock wave of arousal when you suddenly felt Jake’s hand clamp directly over your mouth. His body was still flush against yours, the feeling of his increasingly obvious erection against your ass in combination with his filthy words making you lightheaded.

“Careful, my dirty girl… unless you want everyone to know exactly what I’m doing to you…”

As he spoke, Jake’s free hand began to first stroke down your arm, then back up… before flattening his palm out just between your collarbones, making sure his long fingers were spread out wide, the feeling making your breath catch in your throat. He then continued his public exploration of your body by letting that same hand stroke right over both of your breasts, gently groping and squeezing each of them just enough to make you arch your back against him— which prompted Jake to chuckle darkly into your ear, before he began to whisper to you once again.

“What is it, baby? Does it turn you on when I grab your tits like this… right here, where anyone could walk by and see us?”

Jake’s words sent an instant shiver down your spine, the hunger in his tone immediately causing wetness to pool between your thighs— and the chuckle that rumbled from deep in his throat made it clear that the way your body trembled hadn’t only been felt by you.

“I think I’ll take that as a yes,” Jake said lowly, his voice thick, hot, and heavy– and though he was still behind you, you could hear the smirk in his voice. He hadn’t stopped feeling you up, moving from one breast to the other as he squeezed and massaged you, letting his thumbs gently begin to tease at your hard nipples through the fabric of your sweatshirt. Already, the pleasure was so fucking much, and you arched into his touch, pressing your tits up against his exploring hand. His volume lowered even further, and the breathiness in his voice was damn near overwhelming as he rasped directly against your ear, “My dirty little exhibitionist…”

Your head was spinning. Through your haze, you were aware that there wasn’t anybody walking by, that the few people present on this floor of the library were entirely occupied with their own activities… and yet, if anybody just happened to wander past this particular aisle, there was absolutely no way to provide an innocent explanation for what was going on. Not with Jake so blatantly and shamelessly exploring your body… and not with your face so red and legs already beginning to tremble at the result of his actions. And yet, the most dizzying aspect of all… was that you didn’t care. Not in the least. You couldn’t give a fuck where you were, as long as you could be assured that Jake wouldn’t stop touching you.

Thankfully, or perhaps dangerously, enough… it seemed that Jake was thinking the same thing.

While his left hand continued its relentless teasing and massaging of your breasts through your sweatshirt, Jake’s right hand fell to your hip, gripping it firmly and possessively. Your breaths had evolved into heavy, short gasps as you felt your arousal building, and the sound of your boyfriend’s low, satisfied chuckle right in your ear left you squeezing your thighs together, lightheaded. That was when he spoke again, low and commanding, the hunger and heat in his voice making your heart stutter within your chest—

“Your back. Against the bookcase. Now, pretty girl… for me.”

You didn’t even have to think. When Jake talked like that, his voice so dominant and raspy, it was as though your body just gave into him entirely on its own— no consideration required. With his hand still on your hip, guiding you, you felt him turning you around to face him for the first time since he started touching you, and the sight of his dark, lust-blown pupils right on you were enough to make a tiny whimper slip involuntarily from you.

Immediately, Jake’s long index finger was pressed directly against your lips, and before your body was even able to process the power of that simple action— he spoke again, his tone intoxicatingly condescending and his face inches from yours.

“Shhhh, now, honey… and listen to me. No matter what I do to you… you’re going to be silent. We’re in public, pretty girl… and nobody gets to hear those pretty moans but me. Is that clear?”

Your eyes had gone wide while Jake spoke, the combination of his filthy words, that intense fucking stare, and his finger against your lips only fanning the flames that were already burning deep within you. Keeping your lips pressed together out of breathless arousal, you nodded in a manner that, based on the way Jake began to smirk at you, came across far more desperate than you had intended to show— but likely exactly as desperate as you actually were feeling.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed out, and your jaw tightened instantly as those few words sent shock waves directly between your legs, your knees beginning to shake as all of your energy went towards keeping yourself quiet. Jake’s expression was devious, cocky, a look you knew all too well… one that would always inevitably make your head spin and your panties wet, and the fact that he so clearly knew exactly what he was doing to you was only intensifying your desire. His voice remained just as quiet and firm as ever as he continued teasingly, “So… where was I?”

Your chest was heaving as Jake’s hand slid from your hip to your waist and back down, the look in his eyes making it obvious that he was enjoying himself, watching your reactions as he teased you. Every touch left your heart pounding, but you were aching at this point. You needed more, and you did your very best to communicate this to Jake without words. Feeling yourself surrender further to your desire, you looked up at the man in front of you with so much need that he let out a quiet, patronizing chuckle, dark and dangerous and unbelievably hungry.

“Oh, honey… you want it bad, don’t you?”

The instant shiver that coursed through your body at his words spoke loud and clear, eliciting another dark chuckle from Jake. “Well… how could I not…” he began, letting his hand begin to slide horizontally from its position on your hip, “...when you’re being so good for me?”

His other hand also shifted just slightly, replacing the single finger over your lips with his entire hand, so large it covered the majority of your jaw, right as the hand now against your stomach began to move downwards. He arched his eyebrow at you teasingly, giving you a flirtatious wink and murmuring, “Just in case.”

He was going to be the death of you.

The passionate eye contact never ceased or let up in the slightest as Jake’s hand continued its way down your sweatshirt, and his touch was already overwhelming enough through two layers of clothing. As his hand drew closer and closer to the hem of your leggings, the thought of how much closer he’d be, how he’d surely bypass the edge of the thickest fabric you were currently wearing within seconds, certainly wasn’t making things any easier.

The instant Jake’s fingertips were no longer dragging down your sweatshirt, he was slipping his hand under the waistband of your leggings, flattening out his palm and beginning to creep even further downwards. The sudden heat of his large hand stroking right down over your panties made you let out a gasp— one so sudden and involuntary against the fingers over your mouth that it made Jake’s smirking lips part with arousal, a soft “goddamn” slipping out from somewhere deep in his throat. That would’ve been enough to send you reeling, and yet, it was at that moment that his fingertips made their first contact with your clit, with nothing but the thin fabric of your everyday panties in between— and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head, knees beginning to tremble as Jake studied your expression with a kind of hungry fascination that you couldn’t believe he still held for you after all this time.

Jake was rubbing your clit in tight circles now, and your breaths were already coming fast and hard. This wasn’t going to take long, not after all of his teasing, not with the thrill and the rush of your back against the bookcase and the knowledge of people just out of sight. He slid a long finger down to your still-covered entrance, and his mouth immediately fell open with desire when he realized just how soaked the fabric was under his touch.

“Fuck, pretty girl. Do you want me to make you unravel right here?”

You desperately wanted to cry out, to beg out loud, to whimper out a plea, anything that could tell him just how much you needed that. When he was craving your sounds, he’d encourage you to be as loud as you could— and he’d work you and pound you until you were screaming his name. But now, today… with his hand so firmly planted over your mouth, possessive, stifling… all you could manage was a shaky nod, overwhelmed with the feeling, the silence, his control.

Jake’s soft, dark chuckle reverberated through you as he murmured, “That’s my dirty girl.”

With that, he effortlessly managed to push the dripping fabric of your panties out of the way despite not once letting his eyes leave yours— and the moment his fingers came into direct contact with your heat, you felt the entire world around you melt away. Holy fucking shit.

His movements were so languid and intentional, like he had done this to you a thousand times… and, well, he probably had. And yet, somehow, it still felt just as dizzying as the first time when Jake’s long middle finger immediately parted your folds and buried itself deep into you, your thighs instantly tightening around his wrist as his mouth dropped open once again.

“Fucking eager little thing,” he breathed out, “goddamn.”

And as he started pumping his finger in and out of you, not wasting any time when it came to picking up his speed and intensity, you knew what he said had been right. You were eager for him to make you cum, and you didn’t even care admitting it. In fact, you’d scream it from the rooftops if it meant Jake wouldn’t cease his movements, wouldn’t stop staring at you with those dark eyes, as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. When he curled his finger inside of you in a come-hither motion, stroking that one particular spot that he knew so well, you were seeing stars, bucking up your hips against his hand in a frenzied chase for the orgasm you knew was threatening to overtake you at any moment. It was all so overwhelming, so fucking good, the feeling of that long finger sliding in and out of you over and over again, Jake’s hand so firm over your mouth, those eyes watching you all the while.

And that was when he added his ring finger.

You were practically gone, almost incoherent, leaning back and allowing the bookshelf behind you to be your support— there was no hope of keeping yourself upright on your own now. The trembling of your thighs and the fluttering of your walls around Jake’s fingers clearly communicated your teetering proximity to the edge, and he grit his teeth together as he made sure not once to relent in his fingers’ pace within you. Your vision was blurring, your chest heaving, and Jake could read every signal your body was giving him. It was intoxicating, how well he knew you. Never once slowing his pace, finger-fucking you relentlessly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered,

“Gonna cum for me? Right here in the fucking library? Do it. Cum on my fingers like the exhibitionist slut you are. Fucking cum.”

His words were all it took. Ecstasy overtook every inch of your body as you clenched down around him, your mouth wide open against the fingers Jake still had covering your lips, legs all but giving out beneath you as you rode out wave after wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s my girl. Goddamn,” Jake was groaning softly into your ear, but you could barely even process the words falling from his lips with the intensity of the orgasm that was currently overtaking you, only heightened by the fact that Jake made sure to maintain the pace of his fingers all the way through your high, his eyes even closing for a moment in aroused disbelief at just how hard you were cumming for him.

Shaking, trembling, your orgasm astounded you in its length and intensity, and by the time you were coming down, you were gasping for breath. Jake finally slid his hand away from where it had been covering your mouth, drifting it off to the side and cradling your cheek, as he gazed at you with an expression that mixed adoration and staggering desire.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Jake breathed out, shaking his head a little. “You…”

His voice trailed off at the sudden, unmistakable sound of footsteps. Your eyes went instantly wide, and you glanced in rapidly developing panic at the entrance to the aisle the two of you were standing in— the aisle he had just made you cum all over his fingers in.

But if Jake was feeling any of that same nervousness that was threatening to overtake the post-orgasmic haze you were feeling, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it. In one fluid motion, Jake had pulled his hand from your leggings, and quickly scooped up your selected books that had been laying forgotten on the floor with the hand that had, until recently, been covering your mouth. The loss of contact would’ve been enough to make you whimper in any other situation, but in this moment, you couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars for Jake’s adaptability and cool demeanor. You only hoped you looked a fraction as put together as he did, which, frankly, you doubted very much now that he had already brought you to one orgasm and didn’t really seem like he intended to stop there. Your head was still spinning as Jake quickly sucked his fingers clean with a wink, just in time for a stranger likely over twice your age to walk right by the aisle that he’d been finger-fucking you to orgasm in moments earlier.

Once the stranger had passed you by, you let out a long, shaky sigh that you couldn’t be sure whether to attribute more to your relief or your desire. With your back still against the bookcase, your gaze met Jake’s once again— and the mischievous, hungry look in his eyes had returned, seductive and unmistakable. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “Goddamn, baby… drives me fuckin’ crazy how dirty you are.”

Having regained your composure somewhat, you managed a playful smile of your own, biting down on your bottom lip in the flirtatious way you knew Jake loved— savoring the way his tongue darted over his bottom lip as you said, voice breathy, “It’s all for you, Jake…”

“Fuck,” Jake cursed under his breath, his tone thick with desire, his darkened eyes never leaving yours. He moved a step closer to you, his voice soft and raspy as he asked you with obvious intentions, “...where can we go?”

A shiver went down your spine as his meaning hit you loud and clear. Your mind was racing, and you were responding before the thought was even fully formed— “There’s a secluded corner behind the biographies… it’s where I was leading us before…” you trailed off, and your cheeks reddened as you gave Jake a little smirk. “...before you distracted me so nicely.”

Jake grinned at you wickedly, before leaning in and whispering right in your ear. “Take me there now, baby, so I can distract you some more…” letting his lips drag across your velvety skin, making you gasp when he grazed your earlobe with his teeth. Your ability to think flickered like a faulty switch, but you were able to hold yourself together long enough to grab Jake’s wrist and murmur teasingly, “I could, if you weren’t so damn distracting already…” making him smirk at you while you giggled in response, before adding, “...now follow me, Jakey, I think you’ll like what comes next.”

As he let you take your first couple of steps ahead of him, he managed a final soft, teasing whisper, his voice heavy as he said, “I’m already liking the view…” making you blush before you led him out of the aisle on legs that still weren’t entirely steady, passing one or two oblivious people on their laptops. The thought that they had been there the entire time, and would likely continue to be there, while remaining none the wiser to what was happening between you and Jake, was making you even more lightheaded than you could care to admit. Even though you were a few steps ahead of him, you could feel your boyfriend’s presence behind you; his steady gait and comforting yet commanding presence unmistakable and dizzying. You wanted all of him so fucking bad, and you were about to give it to him right here. In public. You almost couldn’t believe yourself, and yet, it was no surprise that Jake was bringing out this side of you. There was something about him that just made you want to be as filthy as possible, no matter where you were— and you knew Jake loved that just as much as you did.

After what seemed like a tortuous amount of time winding through labyrinthine aisles of nonfiction and biography, your destination came into view. It was your favorite reading nook in the whole library, specifically because of how hidden away it was behind the stacks. Tucked away in a corner behind the biographies, surrounded by tall bookshelves and sporting what you considered to be the comfiest chair in the building. However, the highlight of this particular spot was that it was in an area of the library that nobody ever seemed to wander into. There had been times where you’d managed to curl up in that recliner and read an entire book over the course of several hours without seeing another soul, despite knowing that there were certainly people right on the other side of the shelves.

Of course, it had now become apparent that the hidden nature of this particular nook had some other benefits beyond being a quiet place to read. When you turned to face your boyfriend after arriving at your favorite corner, the look on his face was almost incredulous with anticipation, eyebrows raised and tongue rolling against the inside of his own cheek. “Goddamn… this is a nice little spot, isn’t it?” he said mischievously, his pupils somehow having dilated even further, betraying the depth of his own arousal. He set the books that you two had chosen down on the chair, his hands falling to hook around his belt loops.

“I’ve always wanted to show it to you, Jakey…” you breathed out, never once letting your eyes leave his, as he began to walk towards you, getting closer and closer, one step at a time. The distance between the two of you was shrinking by the second, and before you knew it, Jake was close enough to be brushing your hair out of your face with his long, delicate fingers, that naughty look in his eye that always made you shudder.

“I love it, baby…” he murmured, his heavy-lidded eyes flickering down to your lips as he let his fingers move from their place in your hair to stroke down the side of your cheek. A teasing smirk made its way onto his face, one that you knew all too well. “...but tell me… is there any… particular reason you wanted to take me here? Hmm?”

“Jakey…” you sighed softly, arching into his touch as his fingers traced your cheekbone, then your jawline, before starting to run down your neck. As his fingers explored you in a way that felt shockingly sensual for where he was touching you, he continued, “Come on, now, baby… use your words… before it’s time for me to cover that pretty mouth with my hand again…” You let out the tiniest squeak of a whimper, making Jake chuckle darkly, as he added, “Well? Why did you want to bring me here to this hidden little corner, baby?”

As he finished his question, his hand came to rest at the base of your throat, in the exact spot he knew would always make your knees go weak beneath his touch— and your body proved him right, shuddering instantly. The hunger in Jake’s eyes was enough to have every inch of you burning for him, and as his gaze bore into you, the words were finally able to fall from your lips, soft and breathy and just for him. “Oh, Jake… I want you to fuck me right here… right here, in the fucking public library…” letting your voice fall to a whisper as you breathed out your final, most indecent fantasy. “...right up against the bookshelves…”

Jake’s soft groan of need would have been enough to make your head spin on its own, but clearly, hearing you give voice to your desires had lit a flame within him that he wasn’t going to attempt to restrain any longer. All of a sudden, he was pushing you up against the bookshelf with strong arms, his hips beginning to roll against you while whispering harshly right into your ear, “Goddamn, you are a fucking dirty girl, aren’t you…?”

The way your mouth instantly and wordlessly fell open gave Jake the answer that he needed while the two of you were so indecently involved in public. He caught your lips with his— roughly, passionately, kissing you with a silent ferocity that almost knocked you off of your feet, and potentially would have if he didn’t already have your back pressed up against the bookshelf. His hips didn’t halt in their motions against you, and your mind and body were struck by the realization of just how hard Jake was. You could feel him, solid and burning against your upper thigh, even through the thin fabric of both his jeans and your leggings, and the sensation was so intoxicating you felt your eyes roll back into your head involuntarily.

He was nipping at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, and you were immediately starting to buck your hips in response to the way he was setting your body alight with arousal. With both of you now grinding against each other, still devouring each other’s lips as though starving for it, it was more obvious than ever just how badly you both wanted this. Just how much it turned both of you on to be fully giving into your desire, just yards away from strangers who knew nothing of what was going on. To know that things were about to escalate even further. Right here, right now.

Jake’s hands were sliding down your body and hooking around the waistband of both your leggings and your panties. A surge of arousal rushed to your head as you realized what he was doing— and when he pulled back from your lips just long enough to give you a look that clearly requested a final confirmation that this was what you wanted, you nodded so hard that his expression returned to its smug dominance instantly. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time before looking you right in the eyes, Jake yanked both your leggings and panties down in one hard tug, pushing them as far down your legs as they could go. His chest was heaving with desire as he stared at you hungrily, before stepping back just enough to take a good look at your exposed body as his hands moved to the button and zipper of his own jeans. Whispering darkly, Jake breathed out, “Look at you… so fucking pretty when you’re stripped down for me… showing off that gorgeous body right fucking here…” his filthy words making your knees tremble.

His voice was still a whisper when he asked, “Fucking turns you on so much that we’re doing this in public, doesn’t it?” cocking his head to the side with a lust-clouded smirk as you nodded. “My dirty girl… you want me to take it out? You want… you need my cock inside you right here, right now?”

As he spoke, you were biting on your lip harder and harder to stop yourself from moaning aloud, doing everything you could to force yourself to stay silent, while nodding harder and harder, growing desperation in your eyes. Jake chuckled patronizingly, chewing on his own lower lip as he pulled his zipper down, murmuring, “That’s my good little whore… now keep your eyes on me, sweet girl…” He didn’t need to tell you twice; hell, even if he hadn’t given the order, you wouldn’t have been able to look away from the now-exposed hint of his boxers, from where his beautiful hands were now moving to the waistband of his jeans. Those long fingers of his, just as they had with your own clothing, made quick work of the thin layers of fabric separating your gaze from exactly what you craved. And once he had his cock free, you had to cover your mouth with your own hand in order to keep yourself silent.

He looked achingly hard, his cock thick and waiting, the rosy pink head already slick with his own arousal, and you felt yourself trembling in anticipation as Jake moved towards you, spitting into his hand in a way that felt downright obscene— especially considering where you were— before giving his cock a few languid strokes just as he found his position right in front of you. His eyes were practically darker than you’d ever seen them before, and Jake used the hand that had been stroking his cock to grab your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart for better access. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his free hand slid up your chest and neck to cover your mouth completely once again, never once letting his intense stare lessen or cease. He leaned right in, until the tip of his nose touched yours, opening his mouth to speak, his voice hushed. “Ready to get fucked like the exhibitionist you are?”

The way your body immediately shuddered at his words told Jake everything he needed to know, lining his cock up at your entrance, with his mouth falling open involuntarily upon feeling the intensity of your desire for him. “Goddamn, you’re fucking soaked… is that all for me? All because anyone could walk by and see us when I fuck that slutty little pussy…”

And then, giving you no rest or reprieve whatsoever, the moment he finished his sentence, Jake was pushing his cock all the way into you, his pace unhurried but steady, stretching you out and filling you up so deliciously and perfectly that your eyes rolled all the way back into your head, your knees almost completely giving out underneath you. It was only the pressure of Jake’s body keeping you pinned to the bookshelf that was keeping you upright now.

Jake’s jaw immediately tightened, his teeth clenching, as he leaned right into your ear for a moment just to groan out a restrained “Oh, fuck…” that seemed like it may have slipped from his lungs entirely involuntarily. You could hardly breathe. He was so fucking thick, and the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly was almost overwhelming already. And yet, once he started to move, his cock beginning to pump in and out of you over and over again— slow at first, but rapidly picking up speed— the intense shocks of pleasure were so staggering that your mind went entirely blank beyond the feeling of Jake’s cock inside of you, fucking you just right, stretching and pounding into you in a way that you wouldn’t ever be able to get used to.

He was really fucking you now, and it was like the rest of the world had melted away. All there was, all there ever would be, were Jake’s dark eyes, his filthy words, his fat cock slamming into you over and over and over again— and the way you were already beginning to feel your pleasure building towards your second orgasm of the day with your back against a bookshelf. After all of his teasing, you weren’t going to last long, and the way he was practically growling under his breath right into your ear as he pounded into your cunt was enough to send your mind reeling along with your body.

“Such a dirty fucking girl… voyeuristic little whore… you want to get caught, don’t you? You want strangers to see you getting your tight little pussy fucked…. To see me fucking railing you against the bookshelves… is that it, baby? Are you my slutty little exhibitionist?”

His tone was already patronizing, but coupled with the fact that his hand was so firmly over your mouth that there was no possibility you’d be able to respond, the sheer condescension was making your head spin. Your thighs were beginning to tremble, your mouth falling open against Jake’s long fingers as you felt the heat in your core beginning to increase exponentially. He was relentless, fucking you hard and deep, his breathy sighs and groans in your ear only spurring you on further, encouraging you to completely lose control. As you grew closer and closer to your high, you felt your walls beginning to flutter around Jake’s thick cock, and his eyes damn near rolled into the back of his head. He leaned in and pressed his lips directly to the shell of your ear before he spoke again. “Goddamn, baby, I feel you clenching… are you gonna cum again for me? Right here? Gotta be silent, though, pretty girl… keep nice and quiet… fuck… I’m not far behind, baby… gonna cum for you, too… gonna fill you up…”

You couldn’t even nod your head as tears began to well in your eyes. Jake’s cock was hitting your g-spot over and over again, sending overwhelming waves of utter bliss through you with every thrust. Of course, Jake knew your body so well— he didn’t need to hear an answer from you. With the free hand that wasn’t covering your mouth, he dipped his fingers between your legs to rub your clit in tight circles while continuing to fuck you at his same dizzying pace. That was all it took. Within moments, you were completely unraveling, clenching down onto Jake’s cock uncontrollably as your second orgasm overtook you, practically sucking your boyfriend’s long fingers into your mouth to keep yourself silent. The combined sensation of you reaching your high all around him, rippling and fluttering, alongside your hot mouth on his fingers, pushed Jake over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder to stifle his low, blissful grunt as he exploded inside of you, filling you up completely, fucking every last drop of his cum into your pussy.

You couldn’t have any idea how long your orgasm lasted, the pleasure reaching a point almost beyond overwhelming while Jake held you close throughout both of your intense highs. The way he was biting down on your shoulder turned into open-mouthed kisses against both the fabric of your sweatshirt and the flushed skin of your neck as the two of you slowly but surely returned to earth, gasping for breath in a way that probably was nowhere near as quiet as you had hoped— not that it really would matter much now anyway. As if reading your mind, Jake’s hand slid down from its place covering your mouth to grip your upper arm in a way that was both a little possessive and entirely comforting. It must have been at least a minute or two of heavy breathing and clinging to each other’s clothing and skin before you finally felt able to think again— breathless giggles slipping from your lips as the reality of what just happened began to sink in. Jake looked up from your shoulder, a similarly dazed and cheeky grin on his own face.

When he spoke, his voice was still soft, but it was steady, astonished, adoring. “Goddamn, baby. That was fucking unbelievable… I love you so much.”

You bit your lip shyly, looking down towards the floor for half a second before letting your gaze flash back up to meet Jake’s, breathing out a bashful, flustered, “I love you too, Jakey… it’s just what you do to me.”

“It’s what you do to me,” he murmured with a smile, leaning in to capture your lips with another kiss, this one slower, less hurried, less frantic. Patient, loving, home. You melted against him, almost forgetting where you were for a moment, until you were suddenly aware once again of the exposed lower half of your body against the bookshelf, which made you start giggling again against his lips. When he pulled back to look at you endearingly and curiously, you gestured downwards, and Jake couldn’t hold back a little laugh of his own. “Okay, so we should take care of a few things…”

Carefully, he pulled himself from you, making you shudder, as he quickly made sure to tug your bottoms back up your legs— and you felt your cheeks begin to burn as you felt the familiar shiver of Jake’s cum dripping from you into your panties. He gave you a mischievous wink as he zipped up his jeans, whispering, “Just a little something to remember me by…” prompting you to roll your eyes and giggle, leaning in to tease him with a playful nudge, “As if I could ever forget, Jakey…”

Jake took your arm and helped you walk over to the big comfy chair on your trembling legs, the both of you sharing numerous flirtatious glances that would inevitably turn into giggles. The chair was so large that there was enough room for the both of you to fit sitting in it, as long as you swung your legs over Jake’s— and that was something you’d never pass up an opportunity to do. As you two settled in with your books, you leaned back, resting your head on Jake’s shoulder. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as a thought you’d never expected made its way into your mind. “Hey, Jakey?”

“What is it, baby?” he asked, turning to you, looking satisfied and affectionate— beautiful beyond compare. You stifled another giggle, leaning in to press your forehead to his.

“Let’s hope it rains again tomorrow.”

TAGLIST: @sinsofstardust @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @sparrowofthedawnsworld @gold-mines-melting @texas-bbq-pringles @mountain-in-springtime @alwaysonthemend @tripthelightfatality @tommie-gvf @runwayblues @shutupdevvie @heavens-hearken @godly-sinsx @sacredjake @ignite-my-fire @kiska-enthusiast @songbirds-sweet

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka fic #li speaks #writing tag

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strangerthingsfanworkrecs · 5 months ago

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Artist Highlight: Jo-Harrington

This week, we're highlighting @jo-harrington! All recs this week will be for her work. @jo-harrington writes for the Stranger Things Fandom, with a special focus on xOC, and xReader fics. She's also a great beta-editor and design all the graphics for her fics! We're highlighting Jo for her incredible world building and strong OCs.

You should check out her Store Manager Verse fics for some great fluff and top-tier retail angst Jo answered some questions about her creative process and her work under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I’ve been an avid ST Fan since the beginning. My old Store Manager and I watched the first episode in the backroom of our store while folding t-shirts and rest was history. Fic-wise, a certain Metalhead Dungeon Master brought me out of a fanfiction posting hiatus and I haven’t looked back since.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to create for?

Platonic is always going to be the Hellfire Club boys. I love writing their adventures. Their friendship is epic and deserves to be explored and celebrated. Romantic…EddiexOC or EddiexReader. I mean, I’ve been an xOC girl since my first fandom. xReader is new for me but it’s almost an extension of xOC. I always joke that I’m allowed ONE epic borbo obsession love of my life per decade and I’ll give them one canon pairing but the rest are OCs.

What's your typical writing process like?

I have an idea, I write it down, I get sick of working on a chapter, I don’t edit, I post. (Which is funny because when I beta, I am a lot more detailed. But for my own work I just need it out of my head.) It might not be the best. It could probably read better or have less typos or mistakes. But it’s always from the heart.

How do you come up with your OCs?

I sit there for a long time and figure out how I can put a part of myself into a story. Oops was I not supposed to say that? Sometimes you think of a character that you just can’t help but want to write. But even if they aren’t a manifestation of your physical self or your personality, they almost always end up being an extension of you in some ways, or something you aspire to be. You also need to add some attributes you hate into them, so that they’re not too perfect and you can throttle them around and make them suffer and not feel too bad/let it become a self hatred thing.

What has been your favorite project so far? Why?

Store Manager Verse. (EMxReader) Retail is who I am and who I’ve always been. I had a mall romance irl that went south. So it was a way to rewrite my past with my comfort character…and also give said comfort character a happy ending as well.

What has been your hardest project so far? Why?

As Above, So Below. (EMxOC) It is a passion project, it is a beast, every chapter takes an emotional toll on me and it takes a month—if not more—to recover. But it has been the single most fulfilling project that I’ve worked on in the 20 years I’ve been writing fanfiction. I've been working on it for about 2 years now. 3 more chapters til the end…I’m gonna be very sad when it’s over.

Have you ever had a creative block? How did you get over it?

My brain is just a beehive that I shake every now and again to get the bees angry. Honestly, the bigger block I get into is self-doubt. I have no problem finding the words, it’s the courage to put them to paper I struggle with at times.

Is there a big source of inspiration for you? Books? Art? Games?

Yes all of the above. But in all seriousness, life experience is the best inspiration. There’s only so much research you can do. Truly for me, the canon characters are the source of inspiration. Then I take from things I’ve done, things I’ve read, places I’ve been in order to take an idea to a fully formed plot.

Is there an upcoming project you're particularly excited about?

Eddie Munson Big Bang. I know you’re gonna hear that a lot. I love creating really ambitious AUs and I think this one is really testing my abilities as a writer. It's a crossover fic, in a way, but with a lot of original plot folded in. I hope I do both fandoms/universes justice.

Is there anything we didn't ask that you'd like to add?

I’m from the Midwest, so thank you for listening to all of my long-winded answers. Haha.

#writer highlight #strangerthingsfanarthighlights #stranger things #x oc #x reader #jo-harrington #artist intro

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melyxssa · 2 months ago

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Burning Desire

warnings: smut (fingering in public)

“I drive fast, radio blares, have to touch myself to pretend you're there

Your hands were on my hips, your name is on my lips

Over over again, like my only prayer

(Come on tell me boy)”

-“Burning Desire” by Lana del Rey

I’ve been dating James for almost three years now, the most chaotic of my entire life, since he has been dealing with alcohol, drugs and his usual anger issues.

He had his days, we can say: days where he was more loving and passionate, and others where he wanted to be alone, just writing his music. Our relationship always been a roller coaster, mostly because of his mood. There were times when he wouldn’t call me for days, as it happened this week... he got so angry with me when I simply told him I had to hang out with one of my university's classmates to complete a project, so I couldn’t stay with him after his studio session with the band... I didn’t hear from him for five days, until he called me this morning, just before my literature class.

"Hello?", I asked still in a sleepy voice, rubbing my face with my left hand trying to wake up completely.

“Get ready, today you are with me."

James' deep voice filled my ears, making me jump.

"James? What-"

He doesn't even let me finish that he continues speaking in his low and warm tone.

"I'll be there in front of your university at 4pm, don't be late".

I couldn’t even find the words to reply, my mouth just slightly opened, and the words got stuck in my throat.

"I have an exam in a few days, James. I gotta study, I don't have time for-"

I try to explain him, but of course, he refused to let me finish a single sentence.

“You'll study at my place”, he simply says, I stay silent.

I couldn't believe it, he disappeared for almost a week and now all of a sudden he wanted me to hang out with him, or whatever it is.

“I’ll see you tonight", he continues, before hanging up, leaving me with the phone in my hand, clueless about where he wanted to take me tonight.

I spent the day, getting ready and packing some stuff to bring with me, including my books, knowing that I never used them when I'm at his place...

The time comes, I get out of my college room, waving at some friends in the hallway, walking towards the exit of the campus. That’s where I spot a tall, blonde long haired man, with dark sunglasses on, wearing a cowboy hat and covered in a tight total black outfit that exposed his muscular body, leaning against his Harley, luckily waiting for me.

I move closer, thinking that I had to act as cold as possible, after he disappeared, once again. I finally reach him, keeping my cool.

He grabs my bag without saying a word, throwing it on the ground next to him, before suddenly pulling me closer in a hungry, rough and passionate kiss, almost desperate.

His hands tight around my waist, before reaching for my hips, squeezing them.

My hands find his long hair, pulling it a bit, making him growl in the kiss, pressing me even closer to his body. I pull away exactly when I feel his hands reaching for my ass, I look up at him, and a smirk grows on his lips noticing my cheeks blushing, noticing some students around staring at us.

“You disappeared", I finally say, trying to be as cool as possible.

“I didn't have time to call you", he answered calmly, with a smirk stuck on his lips. “Yeah, sure", I scoff at his excuse, which he used for the past three months.

I look away, seeing that he was quietly amused by my behaviour.

"You mad at me?", he asks leaning a little bit trying to search for my sight again. I raise my shoulders in response, ignoring his question.

He chuckled at my attitude. “Of course you are", his tone was sarcastic this time, he knew I was mad at him and he enjoyed it.

"Come on, let’s go now."

He bends down to grab my bag that he dropped on the ground a few minutes ago, before reaching for his seat.

"Where do we have to go, James?", I ask him, in a cold tone.

"Music event tonight."

"What? I thought… I didn't bring anything for that. James I-", I was basically speechless, again...

“Hop on", he almost ordered me.

I do as he says, holding tight at his waist, before he loudly starts the engines.

Once we got at his place, the entire afternoon has been about complaining about getting ready, fix my school sleepy face, and most importantly, what I should wear.

I open the bag that I brought with me, where I just find causal clothes and books.

I walk towards the closet that I used during the weekends here at James'... and here we go. A few dresses and a pair of shoes that I probably wore twice, which I left here "just in case".

I quickly walk towards the bathroom to change myself and get ready for the night, spending almost an hour in there.

I could hear James' heavy steps on the other side of the door.

“Y/N?! You've been in there for an hour, are you ready now?"

His tone is heavy and deep, and definitely annoyed, he hated to wait for me this long. I ignore him and I open the door getting out of the bathroom still in my underwear, I walk for the closet to pick what to wear.

James looks at me with a smirk, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he leans against the wall watching me rummage through the dresses.

"Still pissed, huh?" he asks, his deep voice cutting through the tension. He takes a swig of his beer from the bottle that he was holding in his hand.

“Pick something nice. We gotta look good tonight", he adds, his gaze roaming over my exposed curves appreciatively.

"I like that red one. The one you wore to that charity thing last year", he says, pointing with the bottleneck a crimson dress hanging in the closet. "It showed off your ass real nice", he exhaled through a grin.

"Fuck, you look hot in red."

He steps closer to me, placing his hand on the lower part of my back, pulling me close to him.

He leans in and starts kissing my neck, his mustache tickling my skin as he presses his lips against my bare skin.

"I missed you, ya know", he murmurs against my skin.

“Missed your tight little body. Missed fucking you", he growls lowly, making my entire body burn at that comment.

"Come on baby, get dressed. I wanna take my girl out tonight", he says before giving my ass a sharp smack.

"And don't keep me waiting.", he warns as he stepped back out of the room, leaving me to get ready.

James was already waiting by the car when I emerged from the house, his tall frame leaned casually against the black vehicle.

He straightened up as I approached, his eyes roamed over my body appreciatively. The dress hugged my curves in all the right places, the hem stopping mid-thigh to show off my toned legs. His gaze lingered on the plunging neckline that revealed a tantalizing peek of my cleavage.

He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. His other hand reached up to tilt my chin, his calloused thumb brushing over her lower lip.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous.", he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "Gonna be the hottest chick there tonight," he said, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. "And all mine.” He growled possessively before capturing my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth to claim me thoroughly.

After a long moment, he pulled back, leaving me breathless.

He opened the car door for me, ushering me inside the luxurious interior before sliding in himself. As we pulled out of the driveway, he reached over to rest his hand high up my thigh, his pinky finger teasing the hem of my dress.

As we arrived at the event, a flurry of flashbulbs erupted around us as photographers eagerly snapped pictures of James, while he kept me close, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist as he guided me through the crowd and into the venue.

Inside, the atmosphere was electric, with people from all walks of life mingling and celebrating the power of music. His demeanor shifting from the possessive lover to the charismatic rockstar. He introduced me to various industry professionals, his hand never leaving my back.

As the night went on, James stayed close to me, his eyes rarely leaving me. He made sure to keep my glass full for the whole night. Whenever a man approached me, he would step in, inserting himself into the conversation and making it clear I was off-limits.

The time for the awards has come, I sit next to him and his band in front of the stage where they will perform and eventually receive their awards.

His hand resting on my bare leg,

squeezing it a little bit, while my fingers rubbed his big arm.

As the lights dim down, I decide to move closer to him, playing the little game he loves the most.

“You know… you treated me awfully this week.”

I whisper in his ear sensually, he turns to look at me, amused by my tone.

“Mhm? I’m sorry then.”

A smirk appears on his face, his tongue licks his lips when his sight locks with mine.

“Yeah, you should be.”, I say moving back on my seat.

“Should I?”, he continues lowering his voice as soon as someone on the stage started speaking.

“Yes…”, he moves closer, his large fingers slowly lifting up my dress, reaching for the inside of thigh.

My breath got stuck in my throat.

“You’ll be this mad the entire night then?”, he whispers in my ear, his breath caressing my soft neck skin.

“Probably… maybe you can change my mind, you should try.”

I provoke him, I could tell that he loved it. While he kissed my jawline, his fingers start tracing little circles on my skin moving, closer and closer to the lace of my panties.

“Maybe like this?…”, he quietly asks, making me breathe heavily at his touch after I didn’t feel it since almost a week ago. I could feel his fingers moving my panties on the side, finally touching me. I gasp of the feeling his bare hands on me, his touch moves closer to my clit, rubbing it softly.

“You missed this, didn’t you?”, he asks, making me nod desperately, I couldn’t say anything, I could just bite my lip. I was already breathless, and overwhelmed about the context, the people around us, James next to me and his hand between my legs.

“You touched yourself like this during these days without me, didn’t you?”

His heavy tone was so turned on that the movements on my clit worked faster, making me escape a low moan.

“Answer me, baby.”, he demanded.

“Yes…” I reply, almost in a whisper.

“Good girl.”

He smirks, knowing damn well I always do it thinking about him.

After placing another small kiss on my neck, his hand moves back a little bit, before suddenly sliding two fingers in my already wet walls.

I moan trying to keep it as quiet as I can. With his other hand, he fixes the erection in his pants, without drawing the attention of his bandmates sitting on his left.

I turned to face him, pressing a weak kiss on his lips.

“Keep going James… please”, I begged him, biting my lips, my eyes slightly closed as I felt the motion of his fingers grow faster, pressing deeper inside of me, while he kept rubbing my clit with his thumb.

“Come for me baby, come for me.”, he whispers before biting my earlobe. I kept my moans low as he spoke with his hot voice, sensual and full of passion.

The moment that he curls his strong two fingers deeper inside me, faster and harder, my throbbing walls started tightening around them, he kisses me again to block the loud moan that was escaping my mouth, pressing his tongue deep in my mouth, intertwining with mine, as I reached the climax of pleasure.

He slowly moves away, a grin on his lips. Moving away from my core, caressing one more time my trembling legs, he reached for his mouth, sucking the fingers that were earlier inside of me, tasting them.

Before he got announced on the stage with his band he turned to look at me one more time, whispering in a cocky smile.

“Am I forgiven now?”

hello!! welcome to my blog!! i finally decided to open one. this is my first one shot, i hope you like it!

-mel

#james hetfield #metallica #heavy metal #rock n roll #smut #80s aesthetic #oneshot #metal #thrash metal

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