#Port Knot City

[ophierian-vp]

[thexer0projekt]

My newest addiction. I know I'm a bit late to the party, but I finally caved and gave the game a try since it's on PC.

GAME: Death Stranding

PLATFORM: PC

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 5 - Sans Y Penser

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... mildly angsty situations, some flirting and interesting proposals.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. HERE BE PLOT. A lot of things happen in this one afternoon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Le Havre, September 1939

The port city of Le Havre is bustling with travellers hauling suitcases and steamer trunks, all walks of life converging on this point of exit. You weave through the crowds from the train station as a trio, headed for the bright red awnings of the company sailing to the USA. Benedict and Eloise hang back as you approach the ticket window. 

“Name?” the brusque man in the booth opens with a crisp American accent.

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

“You are not on the manifest,” he sighs after a pause to scan down the paperwork, impatience colouring his tone.

“But I must be,” you frown, “I was given this here…” 

You push your ticket under the window, clearly marked with today’s date. 

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

“But… they were from your company? Outside your offices in Paris? And wearing your company livery? They… They said I could bring forward my sailing date from August to today. They took my original ticket and gave me this! It looks the same!” Panic rises in your voice with each sentence, dread churning behind your ribs as you realise you have likely been duped. 

“I'm sorry, ma’am, but that is not a valid ticket,” is his monotone reply.

“Oh god. What can I do? May I buy another ticket now?!?”

His responding laugh is a loud bark, “Hah! Ma’am, we are booked up for weeks in advance. There is a long line every day of people hoping for last-minute availability,” he signals to a line of weary-looking, luggage-laden folks under a makeshift shelter.

“But I….” you feel your eyes watering and dread in the pit of your stomach like you are falling down an endless chasm. 

“Ma’am, please step aside; I need to ensure valid passengers can board this ship…” he warns in a tone that is wholly without sympathy.

With a weak nod, you stumble away, back towards Benedict and Eloise. As you draw closer, their faces are a picture of concern, realising something is amiss. As you tearfully recount what happened, Benedict seethes, and Eloise wraps her arm around you, looking pained. 

“I’m going up there. This is unacceptable!” Benedict grits out, righteous indignation fizzing from his very being.

You have to hold out a hand to physically stop him. “It's likely no use,” you appease.

His ire deflates a fraction at your hold on his coat sleeve. “At least let me try, y/n,” he modifies after a few beats.

“Alright,” you relent, dropping your hand, “but I do not expect a different answer.”

You and Eloise cling to each other as you watch Benedict remonstrate with the same man and then a different one at the window. All the while, your stomach is in knots, equal parts fear and hope.

It's five or more minutes before Benedict returns to you, his face pinched.

“I was not successful,” he screws his mouth, looking away as if he cannot meet your eye as he says it. “They don't seem to care that criminals are posing as agents for their organisation,” he rubs his eyebrow in irritation. “I would report it to the police, but it's not their jurisdiction here, and it still does not solve our dilemma…”

“Thank you anyway…” you breathe, “for trying at least…”

There is a long silence as the three of you stand there, stupified by the conundrum before you. The chime of a clock on the harbour building breaks your thoughts.

“It's 3pm. Your sailing back to England is in less than an hour. You should go. You two leave without me,” you demure.

“NO!” they both exclaim in almost comic sibling unison.

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here for god knows how long until there is room on a ship to America. You can’t be alone. This isn’t Paris; this is a port city. It’s definitely not safe,” Eloise rattles off, looking at you imploringly.

“She’s right,” Benedict concurs. “You were safe in Paris together before the war. You are not safe here. A beautiful young woman. You are a target for thieves or even worse. You cannot stay here alone.”

You try your hardest not to let Benedict calling you beautiful derail your whole thought train, but it’s futile. Your mind is scattered like a pile of wooden toy railway coaches.

“I... I could return to Paris?” You finally suggest after what feels like an eternity of buffering. “I could call to check for last-minute availability every morning. It’s only a couple of hours by train. I’ll be always packed and ready to go…” you argue, not as yet realising the naivety behind your own idea.

“Paris will be the first target for Hitler’s invasion,” Benedict says gravely. “It could be much worse to remain there…”

“So what am I to do? I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t…”

“There is only one solution, and that is for us to remain here as well until you can secure passage out of the country,” Benedict shrugs.

“Agreed,” Eloise nods emphatically as you go to protest.

“There are many more sailings back to England, and tickets are easier to come by,” Benedict points out. “We can move our tickets up. At least by a few days until we can devise a plan.”

 “Wait… if there are no ships to America, why don't you come to England with us?” Eloise pipes up in a lightbulb moment.

“I have nowhere I could stay…” 

“Nonsense! You will stay with us at Aubrey Hall. Won’t she, Benedict?”

“Oh yes, of course. There are plenty of spare rooms,” he assures.

“Gosh, umm... Maybe? I…” you hesitate. The whiplash of the last few minutes and the generosity of their offer momentarily overwhelm you. “That's very generous of you. The problem is I don’t know for how long it would be, or even if I should. My parents only agreed to me living in Paris under the watchful eye of Solene. This… this is entirely other…”

You startle as Benedict places his hands on your shoulders, pulling your attention to his sincere expression. “Y/n, you need to worry less about what your family thinks and more about yourself - what you need and your safety. This is escaping impending war; it’s a completely different circumstance from how you arrived here. The decisions you make right now have to be selfish and unburdened by expectations. It’s easy for others to judge from the distance of safety. But look around you. This town is teeming with people clambering to leave the country before an invasion. We do what we have to in unpredictable circumstances to survive.”

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

“It’s what my father was,” he replies, releasing his grip but not moving away. “As a very young man in The Great War. He was lucky to survive, being an officer away from the front lines, but he taught me many things before he died. And one was about always making the smart choice if you can see one, even if it feels uncomfortable. The smart choice here is to escape by any means necessary. We all know Hitler has his sights set on France, especially Paris, as the figurative and cultural capital of Europe. You must get out. You must come with us.” You are captivated by his hazy eyes as he speaks, your heart beating fast as his face and voice grow softer. “Please. I could not live with myself if we left you behind,” he admits in a much quieter tone, but the plea is no less impassioned.

You cannot help it. You stare up at him, transfixed. Stanley has never been so eloquent. Or indeed so invested in your well-being. 

“Alright…” your hesitancy soft, “but you must let me pay you for my ticket…”

His face seems to light up at your acquiescence. “One day… maybe,” he smiles.

And so that is what he does - leaves you and Eloise ensconced in a nice bistro overlooking the harbour with a large bottle of white wine as he walks over to the ticket office for the ferry company and swaps their tickets for a few days hence and purchases an additional ticket for you, steadfastly refusing to tell you the cost for it even for many weeks hence.

While you are in the ladies' room, Eloise strikes up a conversation with a young man in uniform at the adjacent table; you fondly roll your eyes as you retake your seat and leave them be. Your gaze, however, is never far from the window, to where Benedict last left your line of sight, somehow anxious for his return.  When he reappears, striding purposefully towards the cafe, your chest flutters hard, his coat swishing around his legs, his hat at an attractive slant. If there is one thing you swear you could spend a lifetime doing, it’s watching Benedict Bridgerton just… be. 

“Any luck?” you ask as he arrives and doffs his hat, taking a seat on your other side, throwing an exasperated glance at his little sister and the uniformed man.

“We are set to sail Thursday,” he smiles and signals for the waiter, ordering a glass of Beaujolais. “I also stopped in the post office to call Solene. She has said we can stay as long as we need to at her sister’s cottage a few miles from town.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news!” your shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like hours. “But wait, I remember she said there is only one bedroom,” you point out. “You’ve been sleeping on our sofa for days now… you deserve a bed. I’ll take the sofa…”

“No. Also, I’m not sharing a bed with my sister,” he shudders, “she kicks in her sleep!”

“Oh, thanks. So I guess you want me to have bruised shins, then??” You laugh with gusto, the ricochet day making all your emotions heightened, seemingly bouncing from one extreme to another. Right now, a strange bubble of joy at this lighthearted exchange.

“Not at all. In fact, I’d happily share with you instead to save your legs from the abuse!” 

You know it’s said in jest, the comedic relief of the moment evident on his face, but still, a shot fires in your chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You decide to make light of it, even as your heart quickens.

“How do I know this kicking is not a problem that runs in the family? And you’re way stronger than her!”

“You can tie me down if it would make you feel better!” he chuckles loudly. 

You flush all over, the very thought so beguiling yet scandalous. And yet you cannot stop your mouth running away with you, this flirtatious banter too tasty to resist, the wine you’ve been drinking far too quickly for the last half hour loosening your lips.

“I think you would enjoy that far too much, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, raising an eyebrow with a giggle.

His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink even as his eyes dilate rapidly, a corner of his tongue flicking out to pull his bottom lip under his teeth. It makes you want to sink your teeth right there, this impulse to be so physical with someone discombobulating. You've never had such errant, feral desires for Stanley. 

“You're probably right…” he rumbles quietly after a pause. 

You dare to hold his gaze even though you know it’s a mistake. This nightmare of a day makes you uncaring of propriety. He looks as wild as you feel inside, a glint in his eye that is at once permission and danger. 

“Theo here has been telling me all sorts of helpful information,” Eloise leans in, breaking the spell between you, a slight slur in her voice from her wine. 

Theo nods to you and Benedict. On closer inspection, he appears to be in a British soldier uniform. 

“I have to get back on duty,” he explains apologetically as he rises from his seat, “but I hope the information I’ve provided to your sister here will help.” He adds with a tiny salute.

You look surprised at Eloise as she just shrugs. You thought her up to her usual flirtatious banter, not researching. Benedict looks impressed too. You both, however, don’t miss the note he slips to Eloise before he takes his leave. Perhaps not purely intelligence gathering, then.

“Theo is helping process entry to Britain for foreign nationals wanting safe harbour. The numbers have spiralled since the war was declared.” She begins to explain when he is out of sight. “There is sadly a waiting list. But there are a few ways to skip the queue…

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

“Having family relatives residing in Britain already or, top of the pile, being the spouse of a British national.”

You slump your shoulders. “I have no relations there. Uncle Robert was visiting, but he was already at sea returning to America when the war was declared,” you explain, wishing he had stayed a few weeks longer.

“I wonder if we can find any paperwork forgers around?” Eloise ponders aloud.

“Eloise,” Benedict's tone is one of brotherly warning and disapproval, “we will not be taking that route.” his tone striking a chord of finality.

“But… how else can we get her into the country without bending the rules?” she exclaims at him, frustrated, gesticulating.

“I’m thinking…” Benedict grouses back, rubbing his chin and looking deep in thought.

Eloise leans back in her chair and twists her mouth into a pout. She takes a swig of wine before twisting to you and casually making a suggestion that flips your entire being.

“You could marry this one,” she jokes, shrugging and gesturing at Benedict. 

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. A tidal wave of a hundred different feelings crashing through you at once.

“I’ll do it…” he offers, quick and quiet.

“El, don't be ridic…” your denial, spoken over his, dies on your tongue as you process what he said. 

You can't help it, you gape open-mouthed at him. As does Eloise.

“You would?” you stutter.

He nods, mien sincere, but you could swear there is more, too, a rousing intensity.

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

“It's the only solution that guarantees her passage out of France,” he argues, “that's the most important thing here…”

“But marriage? That is such a sacrifice… I could never ask that of you…”  you shake your head, even as your stomach feels like a rollercoaster.

“That's why I'm offering, so you don't have to ask,” he shrugs as if this is not a big deal. “It is not me who has to make the sacrifice. It is you who has an intended…”

Stanley.

Your face falls as you think of the consequences. Marrying Benedict, if only for escape, would wound Stanley beyond belief. Your father, both your parents, in fact, would vehemently disapprove. 

“We can annul it as soon as we get to England…” he assures.

“French marriages can be annulled, brother, yes, but in France. Not in England,” Eloise pipes up, ever the font of knowledge.

“Then I will grant you an immediate divorce,” he amends.

“I can't believe you are taking me seriously,,,” Eloise mutters, but both of you seem to ignore it.

“I’d still be a divorcee, damaged goods as my father would say…” you wince at the phrase but know it to be accurate in Long Island, as much as you hate it.

“I don't know how else to help you escape, y/n,” Benedict implores, slightly alarmed. 

“Keep thinking!” Eloise interjects hotly. “I won't have my poor best friend here shackled to a Bridgerton brother. She has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a sentence, however short.”

“Eloise!” you scold without thought, “don't be so rude about your brother! He's wonderful….”

You immediately flush with embarrassment as she looks at you suspiciously. You dare not even look over to the subject of your praise, but you can feel the weight of his stare.

“But umm yes, let's keep thinking…” you mumble, embarrassed, looking down and picking at your cuticles in your lap.

“I need a bloody cigarette,” Eloise pronounces, suddenly standing up, her chair scraping loudly over the tiled floor.

“Sister, you do not smoke,” Benedict frowns up at her, again with that air of elder sibling forbearance.

“Sometimes I do,” she shrugs, her tone defiant, “and this situation definitely warrants one.” She jabs her finger by her side to emphasise her opinion.

With that, she marches up to the bar and orders one but does not return to the table, shooting you both a look before heading to the wall outside and sitting alone, staring out at the horizon and taking deep draws.

You and Benedict sit in silence, heads bowed in thought for what feels like an age, only interspersed with small sips of wine. 

“I honestly can't think of another way out of this mess…” Benedict sighs, breaking the hush. “But I understand it's such an enormous decision; you need time to consider it.”

You are scared by how much your heart and mind are screaming, ‘I really don't, I will marry you,’ even if your gut churns with the idea of how you will explain it to everyone. You look up, and again, those blue eyes bore into yours. Sincerity, concern, empathy, and something that looks dangerously like desire. You could get lost in that look. Forever.

“I’ll do it…” you whisper, knowing you are playing with fire… and yet yearning to be burned.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[chaiifluuf]

•°. *࿐ What if all i need is you? — d. osamu

synopsis. after going underground for the time being to leave the port mafia, yours and dazai’s friendship starts to feel like something else

content. gn!reader, spoilers for the dark era/season 2 ep 4, lowercase, comfort, fluff, hcs + one-shot, clingy dazai, lowkey bad writing??

notes. i don’t think i’ve ever been this nervous about posting something ( ; ω ; ), anyways first post and first time attempting to actually write smth so this most likely has grammatical mistakes…

dazai who, after witnessing his best friend’s death, arrived at your doorstep at midnight and without a second thought asked you to run away with him.

dazai who tells you everything that happened and why he is willing to make a change, hoping you will come along with him.

dazai who is deep down desperate for your comfort and touch, your soothing words that somehow always manage to find a way to his heart.

dazai who at one point couldn’t hold it together anymore and spends many nights silently crying into your shoulder, for the first time allowing himself to be vulnerable around you.

dazai who believes he will never be quite enough to deserve your endless amount of care and affection.

dazai who was able to have a full night of near peaceful sleep in a while, all thanks to your warmth and mere presence next to him.

dazai who realises how much you truly matter to him, how he can’t ignore the warm feeling in his chest whenever he sees you, how his body craves for you.

dazai who slowly starts to think that maybe with you he can do this and become the better person who odasaku wished him to be.

the full moon was shining brightly tonight, slightly peeking through the curtains of your shared apartment. the weather is calm, only a soft breeze passing by at times. it’s almost been half a year now since you and dazai went underground and it’s been quiet to say the least. with some help from ango, you were able to find a small temporary apartment in the suburbs, away from the main city.

the first few weeks after agreeing to go with him were rather rough. dazai was uncharacteristically quiet most of the time, his eyes seeming even duller and more distant than usually. it was clear to you how much odasaku’s death had really affected him and you can’t blame him. the best you could do was to tell him it was going to be okay and be there for him in any way needed, a reminder that you’re here to stay.

Another thing you weren’t used to was how clingy he would become.

despite the two of you not being in a relationship, it was almost unreal how touchy you got with each other. Sleeping and basking in each other’s warmth, the lingering touches when the other had to go elsewhere, the small caresses were like a second language for him at this point. and it never made you uncomfortable.

as of now you are finishing watching a film, one that has been sitting in your watchlist for a while now. the ending of it left you a little disappointed but overall it was more than enough to cure your boredom. with a soft sigh, you turn the tv off and place the remote control away.

your gaze drifts down to your chest, a view of familiar brown and soft hair snuggled up to you. he has been practically in the same position for the whole duration you watched the film, a pair of arms securely wrapped around your waist and his head resting against your chest. it's a serene sight.

judging by his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, he seems to be asleep. which is rather rare since the only time he gets actual sleep is late at night if even that. you briefly check your phone and it's barely ten pm. your hand finds itself in his hair, gently brushing through it as you untangle a few knots. it really was beyond your understanding of how soft it is. if you could spend your whole day just caressing his hair you would.

you can’t help but take notice of his features when you brush some of his bangs to the side. he looked absolutely ethereal and it made your heart beat faster without you realising it. you wish he could see himself the way you do. but then again he has said the same thing about you so that’s that. you will never get tired of his peaceful state though, looking as if there is not a single worry on his mind.

more often than you would like to admit, you wonder what you two are. up until running away, you were just close friends with him, friends who got along well. sure there was the typical dazai flirting and petnames here and there but you didn’t think they meant anything further than that. however, overtime you can’t deny the fact you might just have fallen for him.

but now you don’t know. do friends hold each other so intimately? do friends make most of your meals because they know you won’t eat anything else? does a friend look at you so longingly, even if it’s for a split second? and once you ponder about that, you start doubting if he feels the same. what if he doesn’t see you like that? what if he’ll get bored of you eventually? what if—

a small movement from dazai was enough to snap you out of your thoughts. he slightly shifted his position, letting out a faint exhale afterwards.

“‘samu?” you murmur as you stare at him for a little, expecting him to wake up but to your surprise he’s still in his slumber.

there is a certain glint of softness in your eyes before you close them and lightly bury your face into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. despite your calm breaths, your mind was still running.

“…i love you.” your voice was barely audible. for whatever reason, you felt the need to say it, the very same three words that have plagued your thoughts for a while now. you know he didn’t hear it but at least that’s what made it easier to say. maybe one day you’ll finally let go of all your doubts and fears and confess to him, telling him how much he really means to you.

“you do?”

your heart drops. for a second you wondered if you really heard that or not. there was no way.

“what?” you respond quietly, almost in disbelief. dazai turns his head to get a better look at you as well as move a little closer. his eyes were half open but you can still see the glint of playfulness in them. a faint smirk was on his face. this man… is this supposed to mean that this whole time he was only pretending to be asleep?!

“you love me?” he repeated his question, a bit of teasing evident in his tone. god you wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. perhaps you should have never opened your mouth in the first place.

“ah, i just… i mean…” your words trailed off as your heart started to speed up. suddenly you didn’t know what to say but if he really heard your words earlier then the answer must be obvious. you’re sure you look flustered right now and you can’t even hide it from him since he’s right in front of you.

however, what he did next made your world freeze in time.

without a warning dazai slowly closed the distance and softly touched your lips with his. having you so distracted that you didn’t even notice when he moved his hand to the back your head.

the kiss lasted for about three seconds but it sure felt like an eternity. his lips were much softer than you thought, despite you not having enough time to fully react to the kiss. for a moment you can’t help but question if this was real or another dream you were about to wake up from.

his face still stayed close, his lips slightly parted as his warm breath hit your skin. “i think i love you too y’know..” he mumbled while gently caressing the corner of your jaw. his voice seemed more sincere when he said that.

and just like that all of you anxieties disappeared. you don’t what came over you but what you do know is that you captured his lips with yours once again. only this time you felt the need to go deeper, like you couldn’t get enough of him.

dazai welcomed your initiative warmly, letting out a quiet hum as you kissed him once again. you had no idea kissing someone could feel this good. you swear you can feel him smiling against your lips at some point and it makes your heart skip a beat. your hands wander through his hair, holding him close as your body relaxes.

you guessed all those times he bragged about being a good kisser turned out to be true after all.

when the two of you part to take a moment to breathe, he takes the chance to tease you again. “i’m still waiting for an answer to my question, bella.” he says softly.

yeah, this was definitely real.

thank you so much if you made it this far !<3 literally need to stop rereading this because it gets worse every time i do help

[cor-lapis-candy]

You know tevyet has adult toys, they do, I'm not talking ropes, cuffs and stuff, I'm talking full on shaped and moulded toys. They have a steambird and basic steam based inventions so I'm betting on electro infused vibs and maybe even some form of body safe silicon or rubber.

And I'm playing off the idea of an isekai'd reader who plays assistant to aether.

And now say what you like but my main team has a home for one dendro fox boy and it's not leaving. So what if you, came to have a toy with a certain familiar shape to him, having brought it from a visiting Fontaine merchant in a little alley in liyue, even having it moulded in that deep blue black and green it's a slightly under average size to make up for the knot that sat before the tapered and flared base.

Sure Sumeru was less volatile than the land of geo with its treasure hoarders but the flora and fauna that melded and blended together could be worse, so while aether went on his archon hunt you were huddled up with the forest rangers learning and comparing the knowledge you already had with the info presented by Tighnari. Writing little notes and keeping all the important bits that would help your blond companion close, so you could share the moment he came back from the port city he had ducked off to.

But as fun as it was playing student, you are still an adult and certainly it was enticing to think about your sassy teacher and how sweet it would be to have that sharp tongue used for more then quips and chiding barbs, the irony of how you had hidden a certain toy away in your bag was eating away at you when you were sitting bare in your temp hut.

It had been so long since inazuma, since a lovely night with a certain housekeeper and his lord, what were you to do but settle in with those memories and maybe the sight of black and green hair taking the place of blonde. Sure you should have known better than playing like this when the fox hybrid was near by but the feeling of the toy stretching you open was too good to refuse, the wide press of its knot against you was enough to leave you drooling.

Between the harsh pounding of your pulse in your ears and the wet sound of your toy fucking into you there was almost no way you could have hear the door to your hut click open let alone cared to silence yourself as you finally managed to work the knot in, whining as the stretch stung pleasantly.

What a sight he had walked in on, if only he had counted on the shift into spring and just how easy it was for his hybrid instincts to grow agitated at the sight if such a sweet smelling mate fucking on another's knot, even if it was fake...

What was there to do but freeze, Tighnari had heard your from the end of the walk way, hearing the whimpers, the whines and somehow distracted enough to not piece together the smell, so sweet yet tangy, as he sped towards your room, you were a guest above all to the forest rangers and he could not have you hurt or sick on his watch. Only now here he is, standing just a few feet from you, watching as you lay there knees spread and hole stretched around a fake knot, head buried in the sheets as you whined and pressed the toy deeper.

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Valentine’s Day prompt 💝

For Dazai x Reader 🔞: it’s Valentine’s Day & Dazai tells Reader how romantic it would be to die together today & Reader replies “how about we fuck instead?”

A Little Death (Dark Era; aged up/18+; NSFW) Mafia!Dazai x Reader  1706 words Tw: sui ideation, choking

It was a secluded scene, shrouded in silence. No one dared to cross the boundary of the hotel’s grounds; to do so was a privilege only afforded to a select few. Its air of secrecy was such that it rendered the half a dozen armed guards who brooded over the tower like ravens, quite superfluous. Port Mafia territory. For a scarce number, its walls knew their secrets but whispered none. For the rest, it was simply impenetrable. 

The hotel room was neither luxurious nor homely. Thin gauze blinds let in little moonlight. Outside, the starless sky was streaked with storm clouds. Even the fluorescence which defined Yokohama’s horizon and kept the city in artificial daylight did not reach this dark corner of the prefecture. Rain pattered relentlessly, the deluge so intense that entire waves were dashed at the rattling windows. Thin branches scraped against glass. You glanced above your head, half-expecting the flaked plaster to cave in at any moment. 

Quieter than the storm came the clicking of the heating unit. A stale smell lingered about the plain, whitewashed walls. A black suit jacket thrown over a chair. Unfinished business. Sake bottles cluttered the side table. A low electric light. Crumpled bed sheets and the scent of sex. 

You felt too cold to remain in the doorway. Shrugging your coat off, you hung it on a wall-mounted hook beside his. Its belt dripped rainwater onto the matting beside your discarded Louboutins. As you crossed into the room his silhouette came into view. Dazai sat cross legged on the floor, arms in his lap, his back against the end of a double, Western-style bed. He made no sign at your approach. His gestures, or lack of, were as inscrutable as ever. No one had ever sifted the murky depths which submerged his heart. You only knew that he played games. And, if his intention was to set you on edge, then you would just have to make yourself comfortable.

“I know I kept you waiting…”

The bed gave a small creak as you knelt upon it. Removing the tie from your hair, you allowed it to tumble down, sodden and tangled, past your waist. Then, with a sound of relative contentment, you flung yourself on your back and stretched out your legs luxuriously upon the pillows. Dazai was motionless; the back of his head remained against the foot of the bed. Dark, brown tufts stood up, unruly. You let your head hang down beside his so that your rain-flecked skin brushed against his face. His cotton bandage wrapping grazed your cheek. You felt his jaw tighten. Upside down, the cracks in the floor appeared more fragile than the ceiling. Either one could give way at any moment.

A hand reached into your hair. 

“If you remember, you did promise me romance…” Dazai’s tone was as soft as silk. With a turn of his head, the tip of his nose brushed your own. His breath, sweet with sake, clouded you. Threatened to pull you under. Only the initiating thread of conversation and he was already reeling you in.

Slowly his fingers stroked loose strands from your face, until he was cradling the back of your head. There was something so gentle, so loving in the subtle press of his fingertips that you closed your eyes. 

“I know…” Your words bore the weight of remorse, even if you didn’t feel it.

Rain lashed violently at the window. Dazai gathered your damp hair around his fingers, weaving a braid like a coil of rope. Playful. If his patience was worn then the lithe movements of his hands did not suggest it. 

“How beautiful…” he mused to himself, wrapping the twisted knots like a noose around his knuckles. Watchful, you lay still. In the gloom the pale skin of your neck shone silver.

“What is?”

Wet hair tickled your throat.

“...why, the thought of dying with you tonight. What else?”

Dazai’s voice was thick with desire, quite at odds with such a fatalistic notion. The weight of your corded braid was draped across your neck. With a rustling movement, he had risen to his knees.

“...that’s why you came here, after all.” Dazai poured his whisper into your ear. Liquid black. 

Unkempt hair brushed your skin. A pale face; his scars half-hidden beneath wrappings. Dazai’s exposed eye gazed down at you with lust. Its colour was as dark as earth whilst the iris gleamed like molten gold at its centre. His words, his gestures, his games; who could look beyond the endless depths into Dazai’s heart? No; to meet his eye was to stare down into the core of the world itself.

A pull upon the end of your hair; the vine wound itself tighter. You smiled up at him, despite the pink blotches forming on your skin. 

“Actually -” you managed, your breath stuttering, “- what I proposed - was a little death.” 

Your scalp burned where strands were almost yanked from the roots. Ignoring your hold upon his sleeve, Dazai twisted your hair around his fingers. As ever, he wove his little designs only for you to fall, ensnared in his trap. Not that you minded. If you had any intention of survival, then you would never have accepted his invitation here tonight. Easy prey. What was the point in the struggle when Dazai could so easily devour you whole?

Then the twisted cord collapsed. Your chest heaved in the quiet room. The long ribbon of your hair was still gathered in Dazai’s grip. Fiercely, he jerked your head backwards. 

“Is that all you can manage?” Warm breath curled over the shell of your ear. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your lobe. Bloodlust rose to the surface.

You let out a shiver of breath, rolling your head back against the covers. Dazai’s shadow fell; rippled down your chest as he leaned over the edge of the bed. His black tie swung loose; draped over your ribcage. With a brush of cool air he drew your collar away. Languorous in his movements, he enjoyed the sight of you like this. His nose grazed your bare shoulder, breath ghosting over your skin. Then - a gentle drop of his lips.

“Find out for yourself, Osamu…” 

Dazai pressed his kiss to the base of your throat like a knife. 

Hands gathered in his hair, you sighed as Dazai trailed slow, hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your jawline. Your legs writhed against the pillows. Purple wounds nicked into your skin; each mark counted and tossed on the mound of his sins. They said that only darkness flowed through his veins. Mafia black. Doomed to love as dangerously as he lived.

Dazai tasted your jaw; lingered over your cheek, his breath coming quicker. Threading his fingers through your own, he drew your arms beneath him. A feather-light touch to the pale skin of your wrists, his fingertips wandered your limbs. A tuft of dark fringe swept your chin as Dazai kissed your lower lip. Thighs clenched together, you gave another airless sigh. Your mouth chased his, body arching beneath his caress. Head turning against his own, you felt his tongue glide over the back of your teeth. 

With a creak of mattress springs, the weight upon the bed shifted. Dazai’s knee sank into the covers beside your head. Bandaged hands smoothed the hem of your dress as his mouth nipped languidly at your bottom lip.  The material was bunched together in his fist, and then he slowly drew it up over your hips. 

You gasped as Dazai broke away from your mouth. Fingertips stroked your upper leg. A thumb dipped into the waistline of your underwear. 

“La petite mort… the brief state of unconsciousness.” Dazai’s breath warmed the inside of your leg. “Only those consumed by death or desire know it…”

With one hook of his finger he had drawn the lace down around your ankles. Teeth grazed your thigh. Your chest rose and fell as he pressed a kiss to your soft, warm skin. Inching closer, closer… until he was right above where you wanted him. Your hands slipped down Dazai’s lower back. Then, the first brush of his tongue. A low moan bled from your throat. His crumpled shirt almost tore under your nails.

Dazai teased, tasted your clit; his subtle toying sent heat flaring. But one taste had provoked a deeper craving within him. Tongue flattened against you, Dazai indulged himself. His grasp upon your legs tightened until his knuckles blanched. The swill of his tongue set your tender flesh aflame. Your mouth dropped open, back curved away from the bed. Beads of sweat broke out over your forehead as you gripped the bedsheets in your fists. All you wanted was to feel his movements inside you.

As Dazai leaned over you, the fabric of his suit brushed your ear. Self-serving, of course he never gave without taking. All that mattered was the price you paid. In this position, he had you exactly where he wanted you. Reaching out, your hand brushed the rigid pleat in his trousers. Hastily, you unclasped his belt; slung down the material; drew him out. With a firm grasp you guided his rock hard cock down to your open mouth. 

Lips closed around him. Tight. With a shudder, his hips thrust forward. Dazai’s bandaged hands lifted your legs, splayed you open to swallow you whole. Fingertips buried themselves in your skin. Oh how he longed to grip them in your hair whilst he rubbed himself against your lips. Your nerves were humming; shivers shot through your limbs like electricity. The first syllable of his name collapsed into a moan which sent vibrations down his cock. He scraped the roof of your mouth over and over, until his rhythm began to stutter.

“Fuck…” you heard him choke. “...fuck… no one else can take me like you do.”

He gripped your legs higher, pulled you to him, drank you down. Insatiable. You were burning alive. Helpless, your body melted on his tongue. With a choked gasp, you clenched your thighs around his neck. 

“...wanna die happy…” Dazai’s voice was weak as he wiped his mouth on the inside of your thigh. “...so let me die between these legs, Beautiful...”

[lethalchiralium]

spin off of this post.

simon “ghost” riley/female reader, death stranding au

It’s not unusual for Ghost to find dead people out in the open. It happens every once in a while, most bodies are just taken to incinerators in fear of a void out. But this one must be fresh, it’s still against a rock under an alcove - the BTs have been groaning and invisibly moving towards it. If he didn’t grab the corpse first, Lord knows he’d end up a BT too.

He took strides towards it, the wails of the undead didn’t phase him as he walked by - their shrieks becoming a distant sound as they floated away from his vision. Sometimes, he felt like the only person on Earth who could scare away the monsters. His boots were quiet against the mud, he kept his steps as light as he could. If this body has turned necro, he’s fucked.

He glanced towards the BTs, watching the handprints of tar lead away from his position before he turned his head back to the corpse, only to find it standing and looking directly at him. He stopped in his tracks, his heart rate lurching as he observed the fear in your eyes.

“You’re not a Homo Demen, are you?”

Thunder cracked overhead, you flinched in your glittering silver porter suit. Ghost shook his head, the timefall hadn’t stopped - if this was the world back then, he would’ve looked up at the sky to feel the rain on his skin. Now, it would rot him from the outside in, just like the fucking lunatics that are a part of the terrorist group.

“I haven’t lost my mind enough to join those wankers.”

The fear in your eyes marginally disappeared as you squinted a little, glancing around, noting that the BTs had gone. “What are you doing out here?”

Ghost deadpanned underneath his chiralium laced mask. “Enjoying the weather.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

That’s when he noticed the way you were standing, one gloved hand on the boulder, one foot being held a little off the ground. Climbing accident? He glanced around, not seeing a ladder or rope in the vicinity.

“What happened to your foot?”

You glanced down before looking back up at him again, Ghost could see the defensiveness in your one-legged stance.

“Rolled my ankle.”

He grunted in response, rolling his eyes. Sure, rolled your ankle “escaping” BTs, totally not accidentally rolling down this hill into BT territory. He rolled his wrist towards himself, opening his cuff link menu. There’s a delivery up the hill to the Weather Station, he could leave you there. He doesn’t have much interest for a living, breathing, and yapping package. He has Johnny back at Port Knot City to do that.

“Could you take me to the Timefall Farm?”

He looked up from his hologram menu, eyes squinting at you. “Weather Station’s closer.”

You sighed, reaching up and tugging your hood farther down to shield more of your head and face. “It’s too close to the Demens.”

“Everywhere’s too close to the Demens.” He looked back down at his cargo list, noting that he had to go by the Weather Station to complete his delivery. Not to mention, he just came from the farm, he’s not key on doubling back when he’s been doing so well with his time. “It’s Weather Station or bust, kid.”

There was a soft murmur from you, he barely glanced at you again. There should be a path through the rocks and all the way back to the-

“Okay.”

Ghost flicked his wrist, his cuff link turning off before looking back at you. And without a word, he took out a folded up bag, tossing it towards you. You instantly recognized what it was.

“I’m not getting in a body bag.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with the BTs.”

Your look of embarrassment could be seen from a mile away - you were a porter, dammit, you didn’t need to be carried. But your probably broken ankle said otherwise.

“God dammit.”

[howlingday]

Imagine Jaune as Scott Sterling(from Studio C). How funny would that be? Pyrrha would probably sue the coach and let Nora beat up the team.

Oobleck: Welcome back to our coverage of the game between Teams RWBY and JNPR.

Port: If you're just joining us today, you've missed most of an unbelievably well fought match between two incredible teams tonight. It has all come down to the final, penalty shots. All it takes is enough points for either team. Here comes the kick...

Pyrrha: (Kicks, Scores goal)

Oobleck: OH! SPECTACULAR! Team JNPR's star player, Pyrrha Nikos, has just landed a goal for her team, so now the burden rests on Team JNPR's goal-keeper, Jaune Arc.

Port: Here he comes. A fine lad with nerves of steel. He's got more hanging over him than the city of Mantle right now.

Oobleck: Indeed, and it seems the fans are showing their appreciation for it. Yang Xiao Long places the ball on the spot, getting ready.

Port: That girl literally has a cannon for a leg, and here she comes! Winding up for the shot and-

Yang: (Kicks)

Jaune: (Pelted in the face)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: THE CANNON HAS FIRED AND HAS STRUCK JAUNE ARC IN THE FACE DIRECTLY!

Oobleck: We clocked that at a stunning 116 kilometers per hour!

Port: Now that's a lot of, er, miles per hour!

Oobleck: Even with aura, there is no chance that young man's nose isn't broken right now.

Port: Oh, indeed!

Jaune: (Dazed)

Goodwitch: (Shining a light in his face, Nods, Leaves)

Port: Now it seems Team JNPR's coach, Professor Goodwitch, is examining him and deems him fit for duty after a short rest. Sadly, he's not out of the woods yet.

Oobleck: On his feet now, a bit shaken.

Port: But not stirred!

Oobleck/Port: HAHAHAHA!

Port: This crowd absolutely loves this young man.

Oobleck: He returns to his team, who welcome him back as a hero. And now comes another penalty kick, and scoring here would make it two nil. Nora Valkyrie approaches the ball with determination!

Nora: (Kicks, Misses goal)

Port: She hits high and wide, way off target!

Oobleck: She must have thought she was playing Mantle Football and attempting a field goal!

Port: Wrong kind of football, I'd say! And back now to Jaune Arc, looking a bit worse for wear, but ready for round two.

Oobleck: The shot takes a moment, but here comes Belladonna!

Blake: (Kicks)

Jaune: (Beaned in the schnozz)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: Jaune Arc with the fantastic dive! The ball flies straight through the air and his hands and whacks Jaune Arc right in the sniffer!

Oobleck: Looking again on the instant replay and OH! EVERY EXCRUCIATING DETAIL IS CAPTURED PERFECTLY IN HIGH-DEFINITION PERFECTION! Clocked in at 129 kilometers per hour.

Port: Arc does not look well. Two wonderful saves compounding two DEFINITE concussions.

Goodwitch: (Carries Jaune on shoulder)

Jaune: (Falls, Dragged away)

Oobleck: This seems to be the end of Jaune Arc's performance tonight.

Port: Indeed, as his coach pulls him through the grass and off the field, like a large-breasted lioness dragging a gazelle with a broken nose across the savannah.

Oobleck: Adieu, Jaune Arc. Adieu.

Port: JNPR now with their third PK. Weiss bouncing at the goal like an infant. The crowd holds their breath as Valkyrie moves in... OH! Very anticlimactic there. Let's see who they got to replace Jaune Ar-

Oobleck/Port: JAUNE ARC!

Port: JAUNE ARC IS BACK!

Oobleck: Jaune Arc is still in the game! Oh my, and it seems he's taken a very odd tactic now!

Port: He seems to be in the fetal position, covering his face.

Oobleck: Not a recommended technique, but here it co- Oh, wait! It seems Weiss Schnee is stopping to tie her shoe.

Port: Ho ho! And that's why you do a double-knot, kids!

Oobleck: Arc, still waiting for the kick to happen. He's probably wondering when the-

Jaune: (Looks up)

Weiss: (Kicks, Pops him in the beak)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Oobleck: SWEET, CREAMY DECAF!

Port: The ball strikes Arc right in the face, further crushing his nostrils into thin slits! He must be breathing only blood by now! He's going to look like one of those cartoon characters that just ran into a frying pan while they were chasing after a mouse!

Oobleck: I don't even care that we missed Lie Ren's attempt! Let's go back to-

Oobleck/Port: JAUNE ARC!

Port: THE MAN!

Oobleck: THE MYTH!

Oobleck/Port: THE LEGEND!

Jaune: (Stumbling to the goal, Bloodied and battered)

Port: I can't wait to see Arc and his catlike face reflexes!

Oobleck: Absolutely incredible, though I must say that Arc does not look well at all lying on the ground there.

Port: Well, you know athletes. They like to add a bit of drama to their performances.

Jaune: (Picked up by Ren and Nora)

Port: Are they taking him out?

Pyrrha: (Runs out with chair)

Oobleck: They brought him a chair! A bold move by their coach!

Jaune: (Reaches for his team leaving)

Oobleck: This is basically a gimme! Ruby Rose has to literally kick it anywhere that isn't where Jaune Arc is!

Port: There is no way Team RWBY can mess up this shot!

Jaune: (Begging Ruby)

Ruby: (Kicks, Craters his face)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Oobleck: ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-EIGHT KILOMETERS PER HOUR!

Port: THIS MAN CAN DO NO WRONG! Just look at him in this instant replay, begging for mercy when it should be mercy begging for him!

Oobleck: He has looked Death in the eye and said, "Take your best shot!" To which Death replies with repeated punches to Arc's face! Just over and over and over again!

Port: If Team JNPR make this final shot, it's all over! But-

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: No! Pyrrha Nikos misses, clearly too distracted by the wounds her partner, Jaune Arc, has sustained in this game! Speaking of, it's time we go back to-

Oobleck/Port: JAUNE! ARC!

Port: His face is like a brick wall!

Oobleck: A brick wall that can feel only pain and cries a lot!

Port: Wait a minute... I see Team RWBY's star kicker, Penny Polendina, but where's Jaune Arc?

Oobleck: ...Oh! It seems Arc is crawling away from the goal! WHAT IS HE DOING?!

Port: HE'S THROWING AWAY THE MATCH!

Penny: (Kicks exactly where she needs to)

Jaune: (...Words cannot describe the calamity of what just happened. At least, they fail to accurately depict what could be described as what really happened. The only accuracy that could be described in this space is that there was physical contact between Jaune Arc's face and a large, head-sized ball, and that there was a lot of bodily fluids that resulted from this contact, and that Jaune Arc was in so much pain that it's likely he passed out or away, though it's also just as likely that he didn't.)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: ARC HAS DONE THE IMPOSSIBLE!

Oobleck: ICAN'TBELIEVEIT! LOOKATTHAT! HE'SDONETHEIMPOSSIBLE! He was hit just right! What incredible instincts he had to just crawl away from the goal like that!

Port: His team rushes to the field, happy as a lark, as they all slide in and accidentally kick Jaune Arc in the face!

Oobleck: And now his team his carrying him off and away on an orange stretch of victory, glory, and emergency medical attention! Jaune Arc and his face of steel have won it all!

[fantastic-nonsense]

one thing that always kind of baffles me when I read Kanej fanfic is when people write Kaz not knowing how to braid Inej's hair

SOC takes place in heavily fictionalized late 1800s world and the boy grew up on a farm and then helped run a gang in a port city, he definitely had to learn knots and rope-braiding at some point

[ophierian-vp]

[hhighkey]

Decode // Chapter Four, Divine Intervention

Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female)

Rating: mature

Story Contains: live action characters, related and non-related one piece plots, unspecified religion, OC is a nun on sabbatical, trauma, violence, age gap (40 v 23), insecurities and self doubts, possessive / protective behavior, kidnapping, true loves, eventual smut

Masterlist

-

Weeks of sailing under the sun, staring out onto the never ending blue sea- yet not once did Sabine find herself succumbing to boredom. For she busied herself with chores from aiding Sanji in the kitchen or fishing, to cleaning below deck. Her knack for sewing allowed her to patch up ripped seams from day to day wear or in Zoro’s case slashed from his training. While ironic she was a homemaker on the boat, an ideal she wanted to run from, but it felt different this time around. Sabine enjoyed this, wanted to do this. 

The Going Merry felt like home and she’d contribute in any way she could during her time, time that she desperately begged not to run out. At night always ending her prayers with a little plea to the Father to not allow her sabbatical to run out. A miracle would be needed for that! She was having too much fun with her reddened skin from the sun, uncaring about the blisters that littered her hands from learning to tie knots. “Land!” Usopp’s voice called from the other side of the ship. 

Sabine perked from where she sat delicately stitching an apron back up for Sanji. Placing the fabric down, she wiped sweat from her brow and padded her way over. A jagged mountainside that broke into a cliff over the ocean, the waves crashing into it below. A town in the distance littered around and on said cliff, heavy foliage becoming more clear as they drew in.

Terror washed over her body the moment Sabine's eyes caught wind of that familiar shoreline, the port where it all began. Sabine had never learned the intricacies of reading maps or navigating beyond the general area where the Monastery was located, or the land she once called home. There’d been no way for her to know the way they were going was taking her back. Back to the one place she’d never forget, not even as it plagued her dreams with its dark wretchedness, a place where true evil resided. 

“We’ll stop here before moving on to Loguetown.” Nami had proclaimed, her voice caught on the wind yet never making its way fully to Sabine who stood in vibrating shock. 

Flashes of memories force their way from the back of her mind, clawing and scratching out, ripping her at the seams. The scent of jasmine and vetiver, and graveled wet dirt assaulted her nostrils, bile rose in her throat as she stumbled back, unable to escape the reminders. As if she were being transported back, the safety the ship provided her was gone, as others rushed to her she didn’t notice.  

“Sabine?” 

Sabine sank to her knees, bent over heaving as she stared wildly at her palms splayed flat. The whimpers that escaped her lips were nothing but silence to her, but others noticed. 

“Sabine.” Zoro grabbed her shoulders forcing her to look at him as he knelt, Usopp joining his side. 

“I- She’s there.”

“Who?” 

“That thing! That unholy wretched- wretched creature.” Sabine choked back, mumbling nonsense as her eyes glossed over. 

“What’s going on?” Luffy raced to the bow as he saw the commotion, immediately worried for Sabine. And Luffy’s loud voice echoed down to Sanji in the kitchen and had Nami leaving the wheel.

“I didn’t know we were going to Angelica Island.” 

Angelica Island- said to be the birthplace of the Father. A small island that became a booming place for those who worshiped, taking over half the city that ascends the mountain. Past the port and the market, past the normal residential areas and shops was a completely different side to the city where large churches, libraries, and holy grounds stood. Like it was lighter there, purposely constructed to emanate higher purpose compared to all else. A place Sabine once counted down the days to visit, now caused her to lose her senses. 

“What’s wrong?” Nami asked.

“We shouldn’t dock here.” Sabine whispered. 

“We need supplies.” 

“This island is evil.”

Silence amongst the waves, amongst the squawking of seagulls and echoing voices from the approaching port. 

“How?” Sanji and Zoro helped her stand. Having to grip her waist while she shivered, while she tried to move towards the rail to stare out. Gaze narrowing, body tense as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Fingers gripped the wood, knuckles went white, the two men beside her watching her curiously. 

Suddenly, Sabine remembered the words Luffy said to her in an attempt to convince her to come aboard: "You should join my crew, find the answers to your doubts. Maybe along the way realize you have a dream whether it be with those church people, with us or.. I don't know!" 

How ironic it was that Luffy had predicted this, that she’d find her answers by joining his crew and here she was. Answers being the damned Island that once held the figure that’d been haunting her for months. That subconsciously she knew it wasn’t over.

Her peace might as well be riding on her ability to question the past and face those fears. 

"Luffy, I need to do this, I need to stay here." She knew what she was thinking, knew what she needed to do. But her words caused the group to exchange worried glances. 

A frown still emanated on his features, "Do what?”

“I need time. The answers I’ve been looking for are here, they have to be.”

“I promised I'd get you back to your monastery, I intend to do so before we make our way to the Grand Line." 

"I know and I appreciate it.. this just.." Sabine grimaced, “I ended back here for a reason. The nightmares I’ve dealt with for so long… They were trying to tell me my job wasn’t completed.”

Luffy nodded, “I understand.”

“Luffy, we can’t just leave her.” Nami added, “Can’t we help? What job were you doing? I didn’t think nuns traveled like that.”

“There is more to the Faith than prayer or confessions. Just as there is good in this world, there is evil. And if you believe in such faith, then you believe in damnation.” Sabine’s fists clenched at her side as she pushed off the rail, “There had been a demon, causing to go mad. We’d supposedly exorcized it, but I always thought there was more to it. It went away far too easily. When I returned to my Monastery, the dreams started. I’m sure you all assumed I was struggling with my faith, you’re correct, and it was this wretched place that caused it. I want to find out if the demon is gone, or if it existed in the first place.”

“You never believed it was one?”

“I never chose this path. Sometimes mass hysteria evolves in different ways, like shutting adolescent girls away to have beliefs forced down their throats. In our world with devil fruits, I can see how a demon could exist. But there tends to be simpler explanations, right?” 

“Earlier, you referenced a woman?” Zoro said. 

“It takes its form as a woman, a sinister one at that. With black eyes that are all consuming, I sometimes feel its dark tendrils as if it could still touch me.”

“Will you be safe investigating this on your own?”

“Yes, I know people who work at the archives here, there are fellow nuns to speak with, and a cardinal who will give me a safe space to sleep.” Nami frowned, “You’re certain?”

“I am.”

“You’ll reach me once you’ve finished?”

“Yes, Nami.” Sabine smiled warmly at the younger woman, touched by her concern.

“I trust Sabine knows what she’s doing.” Luffy said, “I won’t stop her.”

Nami mumbled under her breath, “Of course not.”

It was a bittersweet departure, one Sabine wasn’t even sure she should make after her volatile emotions came crashing back down to reality. But she had to do this. Why else would she end back here? Quickly she gathered a few items from the ship, primarily extra sets of clothes, her rosary, and then berry. 

She took the main road to go through the center of town, not looking back to where the remainder of the crew would stay for supply. She’d to make her way to the religious sector in the furthest part of the city, where archives were kept. It would take her forty-five minutes up to an hour if she hurried. 

Crowds died down as the day went on, as she took the twists and turns that led her up towards her destination. Sabine felt bare as she hugged her habit closer to her body, as if it could shield her. While it was rare to see a Sister out and about, it was even more so to see one alone. Gazes seemed to stick to her, unable to tear away out of confusion or intrigue. 

The buildings turned to that of a pure white, more eclectic with an enclave of statues depicting past saints. Sabine felt more at ease from the familiar roads and structures she’d once spent weeks on end around. Knowing those who tread beside her were those of the Church let the anxiety in her chest subside, warm looks now descending upon her, but very much in contrast to how she felt.

The archives sat in front of her. But the door to take her inside felt like it was miles away. The tips of her fingers tingled in numbness, her throat feeling taut. Stepping into that building could just be the end of her. Its heavy air, the dust that never settled, the dark corners that hid prying eyes. Always feeling like something stands over your shoulder. 

Sabine knew there’d be no warm welcome for her from these halls. It didn’t matter as the lady at the front desk smiled brighter than the sun, remembering Sabine’s face. How she immediately went to find Cardinal Joseph, who’d hosted them prior. 

Cardinal Joseph was an older man, someone who engorged far too much in the likings of sin than anything else, but he was kind. 

“Sister Mary Sabine, pleasure to see you again.” He clasped her hands in his, “Though I am surprised.”

“I know, I did not announce I was coming. I apologize for that.” She said cordially, squeezing his hands back before retreating. 

“No need. Did you travel alone? The seas are getting more unsafe by the day I fear, hopefully you were accompanied, I don’t see an escort for you.”

“I did not come alone, technically. But I was safe. I’m on a sabbatical, I suppose you didn’t hear.” 

Cardinal Joseph's face twisted in surprise, “I did not. I imagine it has to do with this place, no?”

“I’ve been plagued by night terrors, by everything that happened. I needed time away and fate has brought me back here.” 

“I should have written to you.” He sighed, “I have felt it as well, the darkness, I have been on edge since.”

Sabine shuddered, “Can I have access to the archives? There is something on my mind I need to look into while it’s fresh.”

“Of course, the Deacon at the gates leading down should let you through without issue. I’ll have a room set up for you at the Delphine and then I’ll join you.”

Sabine thanked the heavens above that Cardinal Joseph had been here upon her arrival, he was more open than most Cardinals were. And he’d experienced the horrors she had first hand as well, he’d understand the urgency.

She had a hunch, yes. She had swirling thoughts that went every which way, catapulting hoping its aim was spot on. But in actuality, she didn’t know where she’d begin once staring at the shelves of books. 

The Archives were expansive, being one of the largest libraries in all the seas. While not open to the general public, exceptions could be made for important families or members of the Marines. Sabine had no issues gaining access. As she descended the spiraling stone staircase below ground level, her chest tightened. 

A grand room with opulent chandeliers that appeared hundreds of years old swung from every inch of the ceiling for light. 

It felt like years had gone by from the last time she’d entered this room. Memories, flashes of herself galavanting about without burdens went by. Recognizing the paintings, remembering the numbering of the books, it did not give her a sense of familiarity. Instead she felt bear, vulnerable to a prying presence as she floated towards a desk in the center. Multitudes of cavernous halls branched off from the primary room, many of them behind lock and key, probably harder to gain access. The rumors that ancient artifacts from the Father himself lied down here for protection, same with other great saints or nuns or priests alike. Some even said actual bodies sit entombed. 

“Good afternoon,” Sabine said softly as she approached the nun who served as the librarian. She remembered that scowling face, “I was wondering if there is any literature on devil fruit and our faith? If there’s correlation between someone’s power and demonic sightings, or possession.”

“You again.” The elderly Sister huffed, “Good to see your healthy Sister. Now, sections 124000B and 124000C are the only areas that might have information. I think you’re best asking around or checking past persons to see if a devil fruit user could even have the power to possess someone.”

“I see.”

“I’m ancient, I really don’t care why you’re here dear. But don’t go around causing doubt in anyone’s head. If people start to think the very foes of our religion aren’t caused from hell to defeat the Father but rather Devil Fruits? Hmph.”

“Devil is quite literally in the word-”

“Nosy. I remember you had to learn every piece of information ever published on our city and people last year.” She tsk’d. 

A lightbulb went off in Sabine’s head, “There is rarely proof of a true possession- it’s normally hysteria or mental-”

“Just go to the sections.”

Sabine was reeling. Whirring as she took slow steps to where the nun pointed. She thought her head would combust at any moment, the sudden and rather anti-Father thoughts assaulting her felt they’d cause her to combust. Like moving in slow motion, seemingly understanding that there was no reasoning behind the job they completed last year. There couldn’t have been a demon!

When Cardinal Joseph met Sabine at a table where she’d spread out dozens of books, there were tears falling down her cheeks. Her hands shaking when she showed him the book she currently read. 

That section she’d been pointed to was discarded in the back, years of dust corroding at the bindings, the books themselves feeling like they’d turn to ash upon touching.

Sickening. Her heart thumped, blood rushing painfully that her vision dulled. 

In the end she knew Faith was personal, most of the time a person's way to believe in something after death. A comfort, not to be used as fact or to create policies off of. Nobody should be forced to believe in something that did not make sense to them, but hadn’t that been what she was forced to do?

There was a high overlap in demonic sightings and a devil fruit bearer who’d wreaked some sort of havoc. Three hundred years ago a man was able to control others like they were puppets to do their bidding, the church swooped in to perform an exorcism on him and release those under his control. Then they killed him. Demon problem solved. 

This was bigger than her. There was a devil fruit user on this Island that was using the fear of the Father to turn people mad, turn them to take their own lives. She was certain of it. And furthermore certain that her time here last year had actually been futile. 

Sabine did the only thing she could think to do, and that was run, even as the Cardinal called out to her. 

-

She’d run until her legs could no more, and in what direction she’d gone, she wasn’t sure. She was no longer in the part of the city she knew well. Her heart beat in her chest to where she’d thought it’d burst out her ribcage. The pain shooting up her feet to her thighs was practically paralyzing, there was no physical training at Mana Monastery. Her lungs ached for reprieve as she continued to walk, they struggled to intake air as she heaved with her face bright red. 

In the distance, stood a building that her gaze was drawn to. 

From its entrance was a group of Marines, looking as if they’d just got off shift. Sabine suddenly remembered the Islands proximity to Loguetown, that the marine base here had plenty of run off in ships and men. 

She involuntarily moved forward. Heavy scent of the sea in the distance coaxed its way into her mind, the saltiness making her eyes burn. Pain. All this wretched place brought her was physical and mental anguish, no parts of the city allowing her to feel sanctity.

The inside of the Marine Base felt more like an office, plain walls with dozens of cabinets sitting behind a wall of glass. Poster of Wanted Pirates haphazardly taped to the plaster, which she cringed at the one with Luffy’s face, clearly on newer paper compared to others.  

She must have been standing there looking like a fish out of water, especially in her unusual gear, when a young officer at the counter called out to her. 

“May I help you, Sister?” The marine stared at her intently, primarily puzzled to see a young woman in a habit she assumed. 

For a split second she stuttered, mind blank before deciding what she wanted to do. She strode to the counter trying to seem strong in her decision, one that seemed insane. 

“Is there a communication device I can use? There is someone I need to contact, but I don’t know how to.”

“Are they in the Marines?” 

“Sort of?” Sabine’s brows furrowed for a second. She learned closer to the marine across the counter as to not be overheard, “His name is Mihawk and I believe he kind of works for the Marines.”

“K-Kind of? Mihawk… The Warlord? What does a nun have to do with him?” He looked at her as if she were mad. But when Sabine showed no signs of letting up, that it wasn't a joke, the marine cleared his throat, “You aren’t kidding.”

“No. Tell him it’s Sister Mary Sabine.”

“One second.”

One second apparently meant one hour. One hour she stood still as if she were a statue, unwavering in her request in case anyone doubted. She didn’t assume it was easy to reach him, perhaps this desk worker needed permission or fine someone who knew how to dial him. To quench her tightening chest her eyes flared along the tile floors, counting the cracks, studying the grout that had seen better days. 

Eventually the marine returned, rather pale compared to when she’d arrived. He did not meet her eyes, but dialed on the transponder snail. His voice wavered as he spoke, 

“Hello- Yes, this is Marine Lee speaking on behalf of Angelica Island. I have a nun who requests to speak to you….. Yes, that is her name, Sister Mary then Sabine? Okay…. I will put her on.”

Sabine took the device from him, holding it to her ear with trembling fingers. Her stomach churned with vigorous nerves, and excitement to hear his voice. For a split second she wondered if this was ridiculous, if she should have thought this through rather than acting on a whim.

“Hello.” She spoke, kicking herself for sounding uncertain. 

“My dear, what a pleasant surprise. It’s only been a month, no?” The sound of his voice made her heart jump, made a shiver of pleasure run down her spine. An involuntary smile came over her as her core burned. 

“Yes, I know. My apologies but I need assistance, and I can’t ask it of my crew to help. I thought I could handle it alone but…” She rambled, “I thought of you suddenly.” 

“Are you in danger?”

“I- don’t know. It’s a long story I will have to tell you about in person. I…” She swallowed hard and it appeared even through the phone Mihawk knew she needed a minute. “I have a history on this island, we were only stopping for supplies but I couldn’t leave, not when fate brought me back. I told Nami I would contact her when I finished my business.”

He was quiet for a moment before he hummed, “Very well, I’ll come to you and we’ll sort out this business of yours. Where will you be?”

“Hotel Delphine, I’ll tell the owner I am waiting for you. He’ll show you to my room.”

“I will see you in two days time, do not get yourself hurt in the meantime.” And with those words the line went dead from his end. 

Sabine handed the device back to the marine, thanking him profusely before leaving with an overly ecstatic grin. As if she were floating on cloud nine, the fact she’d be seeing Mihawk whittled away at the fear that pushed her to reach out.  

The cool breeze against her skin as she stepped out into the setting sun, the air smelled heavy of cinnamon and fresh bread. She let it guide her to a small shop along the cobbled roads nestled back into a cranny. 

She took the moments of clarity in the dark clouds that hung over her head to make a plan. She was not suited for this! Having to think through things past when her prayers were, or what she’d do during her hour of free time. Or even what was being made for meals.

First she’d grab food at this adorable bakery, then she’d go to her room the Cardinal would have set up at the Hotel in the upper part of the city- Then? She wasn’t sure. Perhaps writing down her thoughts for Mihawk to properly explain the innocuous history would be good. Then, all at once the reality that she’d see Mihawk in two days hit her. 

-

posted: july 14 2024

taglist : @zzbloody-animezz @honeybeezgobzzzzz @mythical-goth @iraaiitz @moonmaiden1996

[valentinedaughtler]

Tainted Opal (Part 3)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2

3 - Pirates

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: You prepare for the heist, boarding the ship with Kaz and his Crew. (Domestic fluff with the crows)

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

__________________________________________

The port was cold, but not in a comforting manner. It was the type of chill that felt like needles were lodged in your throat when you took a breath. No one in Ketterdam seemed to mind though, especially the people who probably had needles lodged in their throats. It was the Barrel after all.

My hair came undone from the wind, trickling down my neck and shoulders. It appeared aflame in the fiery sunrise.

The tapping of a cane alerted me of Kaz's presence. I turned around to see a crowd of six misfits, all coming my way. My crew. Well, Kaz's crew.

The tallest was pale, with long, blond hair that cascaded down his shoulders. His eyes were shadowed by thick, creased eyebrows. Beside him was a blue eyed, auburn haired girl with full lips and freckles. She was curvier, her dress accentuating her figure. Finally, standing between Inej and Jesper was a timid boy, he looked slightly younger than me, but only due to his round face and soft eyes. His fluffy hair puffed awkwardly in places, he looked so short next to Jesper.

I smiled as I made my way across the docks to them. Kaz towered over me, looking down at me with a smirk. He gestured to the crew, introducing each one and their skills.

"Lovely," I purred with a satisfied expression,  my dress flowed, kicking up dust, as I spun to the direction of the boat; my boat.

The ship was grand, with ornate wooden carvings at the mass: every knot in the wood had flowers etched into them. The sail was my favorite color, and it looked incandescent as sunlight poured through. The Crows looked up, some uncomfortable, others awestruck, but Kaz's expression stayed a neutral scowl.

"Well, quite a ride you have," Kaz rasped. He made it clear he was mocking me. I huffed softly and began to load up the boat with the rest of the Crows.

"Brekker, we've both made a name for ourselves in this city from theft. We just chose to invest in different forms," I reply, my voice carried with a heavy feeling of pride. The boy didn't respond, but I saw him smirk before bringing more crates to the ship. My gaze fell on the timid explosives expert, Wylan. He struggled the lift the crate filled with ammo, beads of sweat forming on his temples. "Here, let me help you," I smiled softly and with a wink, I easily lifted the load. I heard Wylan squeak out a 'thank you.' I laid it down on the ship's storage quarters with a soft thud before returning to the dock to repeat the process.

The tall woman, the heartrender, walked over to me after the ship was fully loaded. Nina. I remembered her name. My sultry eyes met hers, and my lips curved into a little smile.

"I admire a woman who can pull the weight of men," she joked. Charisma radiated off of her in beams, similarly to me, but in very different ways. I chuckled, even I noticed how it sounded like if you could blow bubbles with honey.

"Thank you very much, me as well."

✵ ♣ ✵

The rocking of the sea felt familiar in my heart. As I smelled the salty air my mind began to flood with memories. He told me to be careful by the edge of the boat... but I guess he never warned-

"Brooding in the back of a ship with the sea?" I heard Kaz's husky voice ask. I didn't turn my head, but I offered him a soft laugh. He walked up to stand against the edge of the boat with me, clasping his gloved hands together. I eyed his cane, with was leaning next to his right hip. The top was a metal crow head.

It was hard to maintain the whole Seductress demeanor for such long periods of time, but I attempted to remain flirty and calm. Kaz's eyes drifted as the boat rocked, he stared at the expanse of ocean. "I hate the sea, but I've ignored it for long enough. Finally get to put this boat use," I said with a sigh.

"Then why did you buy a boat?" There was a hint of humor in his voice. I pretend to ponder that question for a moment, but I knew the reason. I knew it all too well.

"It was this or a dungeon in my basement," I replied, looking at the profile of his face, "and this one didn't require home renovations." I continued. I wasn't just going to tell him the real reason-

"You're a terrible liar."

My eyebrows raised to my forehead, and my eyes met his. He continued without waiting for a verbal response, "Your bottom lip quivers before you speak if you are about to tell a lie." His face is rested in a slight scowl, but his eyes are laughing at my flushed face. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. He opened his scarred lips once again to speak, "it's called a 'tell' in poker."

✵ ♣ ✵

Two weeks rolled by in a swift motion, the sea rocking the boat all the while. Wylan wasn't doing too good with the constant sway at first, but he managed.

I'd became quite close with the Crows as the days past, and I stopped feeling the need to personify myself as a Seductress. Now I was just y/n. I don't mind myself being let in to others. After all, if you don't let them in, you can let them go easily. Mornings were spent hoisting sails and cooking, days for navigating and watching. Evenings consisted of laughter and dinner, nights reserved for planning and rest.

We each had bunks, but I spent most of my nights planning for when we reached Ravka with Kaz in the cabin's office. Sometimes I just sat and read while he worked or Inej and I would sharpen her knives, Saints, she loved those knives.

Matthias and Nina were on cooking duty for tonight, and once it was served Jesper made an announcement.

"Before we departed on our journey," he began with a comical, dramatic tone. "I purchased seven pirate hats, after two weeks sailing, I believe we deserve them!" He sprung up from his seat and ran down to the bottom deck. He quickly  returned with said hats, and I had to admit, they seemed authentic...

"For each of us! I now declare us honorary pirates," Jesper shouted to the deep blue sky dusted with stars. A few of us laughed as he granted each of a hat. "I'm not sure I should give my dear Wylan one though, he doesn't seem sea ready," the sharpshooter joked before kissing Wylan on the cheek. I giggled before interjecting.

"Ah, I don't know, I believe Wylan would be a mighty fine pirate." I said with a toothy grin, my eyes sparkling at the dinner's commotion. I noticed that Kaz eyed me keenly, his pupils dilating as I smiled. He's an odd one.

As Jesper attempted to place a hat on Kaz's groomed hair, he was met with a cane to the ankles. The lanky man let out a groan of pain before collapsing on the wooden deck with a laugh. I loved the lively ambiance. It reminded me a bit of home. Home. I thought to myself. I shook off the complicated concept of my past before turning my attention to Kaz.

"Oh come on Brekker, wear the hat like everyone else," my tone was playful, but my eyes demanded it, for Jesper's sake. Kaz huffed and he was obviously irritated. I grabbed his hat and place it on his head, but I too was met with his cane. My boot hit it with a metallic thnuck as the cane whipped through the air. I took this as an opportunity to hoist myself into the air from atop his cane. The hat left my grasp and floated softly onto Kaz's head. I grinned as I did a flip, landing safely on my feet behind him.

The other Crows laughed and applauded when I bowed dramatically. Jesper hollered at me.

"Damn, y/n, 'bought time someone beat Kaz at something-," Jesper silenced himself abruptly as Kaz's gaze pierced through his skull. I regained my spot in the dinner circle between Nina and Inej, locking eyes with the scowling Crow, who now wore a pirate hat. I noticed, despite his locked jaw and frown, there was a glint of something in his eyes, but I wasn't sure what.

After dinner, I made my way to the office, it was mine, but Kaz seemed to claim it as his work space. I suspected he just went there to escape the rambunctious atmosphere at the dinners.

I noticed him staring at a map of Ravka again with scribbled notes covered it, his scrawled handwriting filling empty parts of the page. The warm candlelight illuminated his sharp edges, and exaggerated the dark parts of him. Like where his face caved under his cheekbones or where the lines under his eyes were gray. His scars looked pale against his skin, wisps of loose hair covering one on his forehead. I realized I was blushing, my cheeks dusted with a soft pink. He's quite nice looking...

"Are you going to stand there all night or come in?" He grumbled with sharp undertones. I entered the small room and pulled a dusty chair up to the opposing side of Kaz's— my- desk. He paid me no mind and his gloved fingers continued to scribble on the map. My mouth began to move before my brain approved,

"Why do you always wear gloves?"

His writing halted, but his expression did not warp. He quickly resumed his task.

"Why do you know how to navigate the sea and use a ship so well on a boat you claim to never use?" He combated. My mind went silent. I cursed myself for speaking in the first place. We both stayed silent for a while, not bringing up the topic again.

"What are you writing?" My soft voice sliced the silence like one of Inej's knives. Kaz looked up at me, his gaze harsh.

"I never suspected you'd be so inquisitive," his husky voice made my bones shiver, and I felt the blush creepy back up onto my cheeks. I liked the way he sounded. "I'm attempting to find the most officiant route to get us to Arx's destination." His words released me from my trance, but made me focus on his scarred lips. I wonder how the scar would feel against my lip- what am I thinking? I shook away my thoughts and nodded at him.

"Well, I'm much better with sea routes, but my- well, I've been told that the most bandit-free paths are through Fjerda due to the relentless snow." I pointed at the map, tracing the roads I was referring to. He hummed in response, but I noticed his gaze fixated on me. I began to smile, for reasons unknown to my conscious mind, I smiled.

"Are you sure about this? Fjerda may have less bandits, but they have quite a few Drüskelles, little tailor."

"I like you, Kaz." I purr, using his first name. As I did so, I saw a mild flush appear on his ears. "You're cautiously optimistic," I smirk and narrow my eyes. His eyebrows creased but he chuckled. He's slightly softer when less people are around.

I lifted myself from the chair and sauntered my way towards the door, "Good night, Kaz."

"Good night, y/n."

✵ ♣ ✵

The following morning began as those previous to it did, I washed my face in my cabin with stored water and changed my clothes. I slipped on a frilly, white dress that stopped at my knees and layered a brown, leather corset on top of it. I put my hair into braids and tied my leather boots tight. I finally put stud earrings on, they were silver crows. Before I left the cabin I grabbed the pirate hat Jesper had gifted me, smiling at the emblem that read 'Captain'.

My made my way to the top deck, the sun filtering through the sails, laying a sheer blanket of light over my face. I was the first one up, or so I thought. I looked over to my right, at what should have been an open expanse of sea, but it wasn't.

Fear rose in my stomach and into my throat like bile. I rushed down the creaky stairs of the boat and into the bunks. "Everyone, you need to wake up," my voice echoed off the walls and shook the five crowd awake... five?? Where's-

My feet took off once again until I reached the office Kaz seemed to have made his home. I rattled the knob and swung open the door. Kaz looked up, confused, as he shot up from the desk. He clutched his cane and stared at me, a mix of irritation and shock in his eyes.

"What made you burst in? Did Jesper and Wylan light something on fire again-?"

I couldn't get out a sentence, but I managed to blurt out one word,

"Pirates,"

________________

Word Count: 2203

________________

Please feel free to imagine yourself wearing or having a different hairstyle/texture at any point through the story, feel free to ask for specific outfits, hairstyles for later parts of the story.

-Valentine

[kjcreed]

The Jewel of Seven Stars | Chapter 3

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Series Masterlist Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Warnings: profanity; illegal transportation (again); shotgun

Pronouns: they/them

Summary: The year is 1954. 9 years after the Second World War ended. Most people in the blooming city of New York should be living pretty peacefully by now. And most of them really are... Well, except for you... And your brother Tony for that matter. Your father was an archaeologist working to uncover the truth about the legend of Queen Nefret and the prophecy that has been engraved on the walls of her tomb which your father discovered with his team. The only problem is that he went missing and now it's your job to find him. But what if you unintentionally become a part of said prophecy? And what if you meet a persistent librarian and her extravagant brother along the way?

Disclaimer: This story is inspired by the 1999 film The Mummy, partly inspired by the book The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker and a little by the life of Queen Hatshepsut.

-

“So… do we know what the first thing we’re going after is?” You heard the voice of the younger twin beside you and when you looked towards her, you watched as she matched her step with yours as the four of you walked through the streets of the port city on the small island.

“Tony and I think it’s probably a talisman of some sort.” You shrugged your shoulders a little. “You do know about the legend of Queen Nefret, right?” You inquired as you glanced at the woman beside you again. She looked strangely enchanting with the colours of the sunset reflecting on her skin. For some reason, you felt like you never wanted to take your eyes off of her.

“Yes… yes, I do.” She nodded in confirmation and looked back up at you. She really wasn’t bad to look at at all. “Well, I think that the talisman could actually be a tyet amulet…” You continue explaining your theory as you look at Pietro and Tony walking in front of you, talking about god knows what.

“The knot of Isis?” Wanda asked and you smiled to yourself at the fact that she actually knew what you meant. When you tried to explain your theory to Tony, he looked at you as if you were crazy for thinking he knew what a tyet amulet was and why it was even relevant.

“Yeah… According to the legend, Nefret was a sorceress. It would make sense for her to use objects associated with Isis… or Aset, if we want to be culturally accurate…” You trail off and look at the girl again. She looked like she was thinking about what you were saying and you could notice the exact moment it clicked for her and you couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“Because Isis is the goddess of magic, amongst other things.” Wanda said with a proud smile and you nodded in confirmation. “Exactly.” You and Wanda looked at each other for a moment and it reminded you of the first time that you met. You got lost in your own thoughts as you looked at the girl and for Wanda, it was the same.

She felt very intrigued by you. Ever since you almost knocked her over the railing of the ship you were trespassing on. For some unknown reason, she was dying to get to know you better. She knew she was looking at you for too long now, but so were you.

She didn’t want to look away. Something about the mischief in your eyes and your unpredictable behaviour pulled her in. It was only when her brother wrapped his arm around her shoulders with a hearty laugh that she snapped out of her haze.

“Are you two nerdy nerds done nerding? Because Tony and I just found us a boat.” The blonde man said with a grin on his face, motioning to the pier you suddenly appeared to be in front of.

Both you and Wanda look away from each other to look ahead towards the sea but before you do, you think you notice something resembling a blush on the girl’s cheeks.

You notice Tony talking to an older guy who had a tobacco pipe hanging from his lips loosely. You watch them for a little while and decide to walk over to them when you see the man get irritated by what your brother is saying.

“No passengers!” You hear the man exclaim when you walk up to them. You pat your brother on his back when the man makes a shooing motion at the both of you and you drag Tony back to where you were standing with Pietro and Wanda. “What happened?” You turn to your brother with an amused smile.

“He was already heading there anyway so I asked him if he could take us with him but he basically told me to fuck off.” Tony threw his arms up in frustration making you laugh a little which earned you a punch in the arm and a glare.

“Well… You know what that means…” A mischievous grin spreads across your face and Tony shoots you a warning look. “No. No way. I’m not doing that again.” He protested, shaking his head dismissively. “What are they talking about?” Wanda asked your brother with her eyebrows furrowed. “They want to sneak onto the ship.” Tony sighed and Wanda raised her eyebrows at you for confirmation and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Oh, because that worked out so well for you the last time.” Wanda commented sarcastically as she put her hands on her hips just like when you got kicked out of the inn. You couldn’t help but find her attempt at being firm rather amusing. “We made it here, did we not?” You snark back a reply with that stupid smile on your face making Wanda scoff in return.

“I dunno… It could be fun.” Pietro shrugged his shoulders and went to stand next to you, making you nudge him with your elbow as a sign of appreciation for being on your side. Wanda, however, gave him an unamused look.

“No. We’re not doing this.” Tony stood his ground and to be honest, you couldn’t really blame him. It’s not every day that you’re being shot at while swimming for your life towards an unfamiliar island.

You also knew that you didn’t have any other option. While you were walking towards Tony and the man you noticed that his ship was the only one on your side of the port and to your luck he was already headed where you needed to go.

“And what else do you want us to do, Tony?” You cross your arms over your chest and give your brother an irritated look. “I don’t know! Wait for another ship or something?”

You shook your head at your brother’s words. “We can’t waste any more time. Did you forget that our father is missing?” The determined look on your face told Tony that there was no way he would convince you otherwise so he just sighed in defeat. “Fine.” He also knew you were kind of right, but he would never admit that to your face.

“What?!” Wanda looked at the three of you bewildered that this was actually going to be your plan. “You cannot be serious-” “Sorry, Wands. Three against one.” Pietro interrupted his sister’s protests and Wanda shot you a glare in return. You gave her a playful smile before focusing your attention on her brother who leaned towards you. “So... how are we gonna do this?”

-

“Woah. What was that?” Wanda gripped her brother's clothes as the wooden floor under your feet shook a little. “That means we’re off.” You say with an excited smile and look around the small storage room you managed to sneak into while the owner wasn’t around.

You waited there for about an hour before the man finally set sail and now the four of you were crammed inside what you were sure to be the smallest room on the ship. If you could even call the man’s vehicle a ship. It was something between a ship and a boat really…

“Get comfortable because this is going to take a couple of hours…” You say, the smile not leaving your face and Wanda and Tony let out small groans of dissatisfaction.

Earlier when you got to the storage room, it was pitch black in there. Luckily you managed to find two small candles and Tony always carried a lighter in his pocket. It wasn’t much, but the dim light that illuminated the room just added to the atmosphere.

The four of you sat on the ground, surrounding the only source of light you had. You used the time you had to get to know each other a little bit better. You found out that Pietro and Wanda were originally from a small country in Central Europe called Sokovia but moved to America with their parents when they were little kids. You and Tony told them about your father and his research along with a few anecdotes from your childhood.

Tony and Pietro were engaged in a conversation about Tony’s projects and how he was working to be an electronic engineer and you were just pondering about the journey ahead of you when Wanda sat a little closer to you and pulled your dad’s book out of her satchel.

“I forgot to give you this back…” She handed you the book and you looked at it before looking back up at her. “So you’re not mad at me anymore?” Your teasing smile made Wanda annoyed a little bit but she still had to hold in a giggle threatening to escape her lips.

“I am…” She replied but you could see in her eyes that she didn’t really mean it. Annoyed? Yes. But mad? Very unlikely. “But I’m not a thief.” She tilted her chin upwards a little and you were amused, to say the least. You looked at the book before pushing it slightly away from you.

“You can hold onto it if you want.” You say and give her a more sincere smile this time. She was a little taken aback by your offer but accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you.” Her voice was quieter than before and she looked away from you a small smile grazing her lips.

You noticed she had a really nice smile. The girl was very pretty overall but her smile might be your favourite feature of hers yet. You got lost in the way the light from the candle reflected in her greenish eyes and it took you a moment to reply to her. “It’s no problem. I have the whole thing pretty much memorised…” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “Wow… I didn’t know you were such a nerd about dad’s stuff.” You heard the teasing voice of your brother making you groan a little.

“I’m not! I was just bored in the house sometimes…” You tried to defend yourself even though you knew your brother wasn’t really buying it. “Oh dad would’ve loved to see this.” Tony nudges you and you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Tony.” Your cheeks were starting to have a faint red tint to them and you could feel it. That’s why you tried to change the subject as quickly as you could. Wanda thought it was amusing and kind of adorable.

“Can I look at the map from the book real quick?” The fond smile that was playing on Wanda’s lips fell as soon as those words left your mouth. You notice the girl exchange a worried look with her brother and it makes you furrow your eyebrows while you look between the two of them. “What?” You quirked your eyebrow at the twins.

“Well… Uh… We…” Pietro’s stammering induced an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach. “We… kinda burned it.” You and Tony looked at each other with wide eyes before you turned to the twins with unbelieving looks. “You what?!” Your voice was a couple of octaves higher than normal and you stood up from your spot on the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You couldn’t believe what you just heard. The only thing that could actually lead you to your lost father was gone. Burned to a crisp. Just like that. Sure… You somewhat remembered the locations that were marked on the map… But what if you’re wrong? And this whole thing goes to shit?

“Y/N… You need to calm down…” The voice of your brother stopped you from spiralling for a moment. “Calm down?” You snap back at your brother and Wanda and Pietro exchange worried glances. “Just sit down before-” Your brother was cut off by the sound of the door opening and a shotgun being loaded. You froze in place and slowly turned around only to be faced with the owner of the boat pointing a shotgun at your stomach. “Fuck…”

-

“Easy there, cowboy.” You say with your hands up as the man shoves you forward with his shotgun. “You want to get shot in head?” He said with a foreign accent, probably Spanish if you had to guess, as he raised the weapon at you.

You feel someone step on your foot making you wince and when you look to your side you see Tony giving you a pointed look. “Sorry, sorry.” You tell the man quickly and look back at him.

“I say no passengers. You not speak English?” You and your companions were huddled together with your arms raised, the man holding you at gunpoint on the deck of his ship.

“We’re really sorry, but we needed to get to Isla de Los Despiertos. We’re looking for my father and we had no other choice.” You explain. Your voice is a little shaky from nervousness since you could be shot dead any second.

The man slowly lowers his weapon and tilts his head at you. “So you not tourists?” He inquires. You and your companions exchange confused glances at the question. When you don’t reply, the man raises the shotgun again, making you become alarmed once again. “No! No, no. We’re not tourists!” You respond quickly and the man squints his eyes at the four of you, scanning you from head to toe.

You breathe out a sigh of relief when the man lowers his gun with a grumble. “I hate tourists.” Wanda and Pietro look at each other in amusement as they hear him exclaim. The man puts his gun down and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you again.

“Why you want to go to Isla de Los Despiertos?” He quirked an eyebrow at the four of you. It was Wanda who spoke up this time. “We are searching for an amulet… it should be somewhere in the ruins of Amfazar.” She explained, remembering the name on that little piece of the burned map. You were a little surprised by how confident her tone of voice was. You liked this side of her.

The man stared at her for a long moment before he suddenly burst out laughing. And it lasted for a while. He only stopped once he noticed that the rest of you weren’t as amused as he was. He looked back at you and his eyes widened slightly.

“Oh… You serious?”

-

Author's Note

Heyo! Back at it again with another chapter I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for the likes, reblogs and positive comments on this series, dear reader! Isla de Los Despiertos is supposed to translate to Isle of The Awakened from Spanish, just to clear things up... You'll hopefully find out what that means in the next chapter :)

Thank you for reading and see you again soon!

Series Masterlist Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part thirty-five: "The Very Bad Day"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your day seems to be filled with a terrible bout of bad luck.

Or

You have a monumentally shitty Monday. But you sure are grateful for Matthew Murdock.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.4k

a/n: This one is a sort of comedic installment! You can find the list of installments for this series on tumblr here.

Monday Morning

The loud shriek of a car horn honking woke you, your body startling along your mattress. Eyes flying open, you realized it was already morning judging by the faint light outside of your curtained window. You could hear yelling accompanying the honking on the streets below and you groaned, rolling over onto your other side and burying your face in the pillow. Fucking New York City. All you wanted to do was sleep in on your Sunday morning.

Except yesterday was Sunday…which meant today was Monday and you had work. 

Eyes snapping back open again you threw your hand out, grabbing your phone off your nightstand to check the time. Your alarm hadn’t gone off yet, so it had to still be early, right? But as you lifted your phone from off the nightstand, the plug dropped straight out of the charging port. You groaned, realizing you hadn’t properly plugged your phone in last night. Quickly you tapped the screen, but it remained black. Panicking a little, you pushed the button to unlock the screen on the side, but the screen still remained black.

Your phone was dead.

Cursing, you shoved the cord back into your phone and impatiently waited the minute for it to start back up as it finally received power. Your eyes widened in horror at the time on the display–you had fifteen minutes to get dressed and get to the office before you were late.

Throwing the sheets off of you, you flung your legs over the side of your bed in a hurry before racing to your closet and grabbing a pair of dress pants and a blouse. Frantically you changed, throwing your clothes on like a madwoman. Afterwards, you nearly sprinted to your bathroom and ran the brush through your hair, cringing when you roughly combed through a few knots–you didn’t have time to be gentle or fix your hair this morning. 

Tossing the brush onto the vanity counter, you quickly grabbed your toothbrush and proceeded to do a rapid but fairly thorough brush of your teeth before haphazardly spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth. With an irritated sigh you grabbed your mouthwash off the counter, figuring you’d use some for good measure to make up for the quick brushing. As you opened the lid and went to turn the bottle over and pour some into the cap, the mouthwash abruptly gushed out of the container and the blue liquid splashed over your hands, forearms, and the front of your blouse. Cursing again, you downed a bit of the mouthwash, swirling it around in your mouth as you tried to clean up the mess and clean off your hands and arms. You were going to smell intensely like mint all day now, but you’d at least have a minute to change your shirt.

Spitting out the mouthwash, you washed off your face and left the bathroom. You were tugging your shirt over your head as you crossed the hall back to your bedroom, discarding the mouthwash covered blouse onto your bedroom floor before you dug through your closet. Of course you’d forgotten to do laundry, too distracted by Matt and his goddamn charm and glorious body half the weekend. You took the first thing you grabbed off of a hanger and threw it on, grabbing a cardigan to toss on over it for good measure. You turned, about to head out of your room, but paused just at the threshold, laughing bitterly to yourself as you turned back around. Making your way over to your nightstand, you snatched your phone and your charging cord from it, glaring at the little device.

“Nice try, asshole,” you muttered to your phone, as if it was somehow to blame for your horrible morning.

Exiting your apartment a minute later bundled in your winter coat, you were practically sprinting down the hallway to catch the elevator before the doors shut and it descended. At this rate you were already about to be late to work, you couldn’t afford to wait for the elevator to make it to the first floor and come back up. So when the doors closed on you just when you were a foot away from them, the woman inside making disinterested eye contact with you in your distress but refusing to hold the door, you almost screamed.

You’d have to take the stairs down multiple flights.

Pushing your way through the door on your left, you began your trek down the few flights of stairs, winded shortly after you began. Every few steps you’d mutter an angry ‘fuck’ and curse yourself for not making sure your phone had been properly plugged in last night before you’d gone to bed. 

By the time you made it out of your building, you realized it was snowing pretty hard. Because why wouldn’t you have to briskly walk through something akin to a blizzard on this monumentally shitty Monday? With a huff, you began your trek through the slush on the sidewalk, your work flats slipping and sliding on occasion. Had you woken up early and been able to check the weather outside, you’d have been smart enough to wear your boots.

A minute into your walk and you heard your phone ringing in your pocket. With a frustrated grumble you fished the barely charged phone from your pocket and answered the call without even looking. You assumed it was Ellison wondering where the hell you were.

“Yeah?” you answered, your frustration apparent in your tone.

“You sound chipper,” Matt teased.

So thankfully not Ellison chewing you out for your tardiness. Small mercies.

“I’m having the world’s worst bout of bad luck this morning,” you grumbled into the phone, feet once again sliding along on the sidewalk.

“I doubt it’s that bad,” Matt said. 

“My phone was dead so my alarm didn’t go off,” you vented to him. “I’m lucky traffic woke me up when it did. My phone is still barely charged, and I smell like mouthwash because I accidentally spilled it all over myself. Not to mention I completely forgot to do laundry this weekend so my choice of work clothes was limited. I’m very late for work right now. I had to run down multiple flights of stairs because some people don’t have the common courtesy to hold an elevator, not to mention I’m now walking through the beginning of a damn blizzard in dress flats, and I haven’t had any coffee. I’m going to have to settle for that sludge in the breakroom.”

“Okay,” Matt amended gently, “so maybe you haven’t had the best start to your Monday, but I’m sure it’ll turn around.”

“I’m pretty sure once I get to the office Ellison isn’t going to be too pleased,” you replied. “I don’t even have time to grab him a coffee to butter him–”

Yelping in surprise, your feet slipped on a patch of ice and slid out from underneath you. With a hard thud you fell straight on your left hip, hissing in pain as you hit the pavement. The foot traffic continued, skirting around your place on the sidewalk. Your eyes snapped shut as you fought down your frustration, trying hard not to cry on the sidewalk. Grinding your teeth together, you rose carefully back up to your feet, vaguely aware of Matt’s panicked voice on the line. You were positive you’d have a giant bruise later, especially with how much your hip already hurt. 

And you had a cold, wet spot on your dress pants now, too.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Matt’s concerned voice came over the line when you held the phone back up to your ear.

“Yup,” you ground out, grudgingly continuing the block you still had left to the office. “Just fell on a patch of ice.”

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly.

“Considering the day I’m having,” you grumbled, “I guess I’m lucky I didn’t break anything.” 

“See?” Matt tried to joke. “There’s a silver lining.”

“Except my pants are all cold and wet,” you said with a sigh. Your left hand reached out to adjust your purse strap, but your eyes went wide when you realized you forgot to grab your purse. “Fucking hell,” you muttered.

“What? Matt asked.

“I forgot my purse,” you told him. “Guess I’m not ordering any coffee or lunch today. Best Monday ever.”

Monday Afternoon

Head buried in your arms on your desk, you tried your best to enjoy the silence of the office. There was a headache pounding in your skull from the terrible day you’d been having along with the lack of any real caffeine. Your hip from where you’d fallen earlier wasn’t feeling too great, either.

Currently, almost everyone was out for lunch or working on a story leaving you mostly alone. And you had the unfortunate luck to have been given the fluff piece covering the new ice cream shop opening up in Hell’s Kitchen because you’d shown up almost fifteen minutes late to work this morning. 

Groaning, you shifted your head along your arms when you got a whiff of the yogurt Katy had accidentally spilled in your hair when you’d ran into her earlier. You had tried to rinse it off in the women’s bathroom, but you could certainly still smell it lingering. And mixed with the minty mouthwash that seemed like it had seeped into your skin since this morning, it made you want to gag.

“Uh, hello?”

Your head popped up from your desk, brows furrowing. You didn’t recognize that voice. Rising from your chair, you startled what appeared to be a delivery person carrying a bag of food and a coffee. You muttered a quick apology and he waved it off with a smile.

“I was actually looking for a…” he began, pausing and reading your name off of his phone.

“That’s me,” you said slowly, confused. “But I didn’t order anything.”

“It says here that a Matthew Murdock ordered this to be delivered to you? At this address?” the man answered, glancing up from his phone.

Shoulders sagging as a small smile drew over your mouth, you made your way around the cubicles towards the young man. He held out the bag towards you and you accepted it, though you cleared your throat awkwardly immediately afterwards.

“I uh, don’t happen to have anything on me for a tip,” you awkwardly admitted.

“Oh, that was already taken care of in the app when he placed the order,” the guy told you. “Don’t worry about it. Have a good day!”

Wishing the man a good day back, you turned, heading back to your desk and shaking your head. As you sat down in your desk chair, you quickly took a sip of coffee–and you recognized that halfway decent coffee immediately. Eagerly opening the takeout bag, you were hit with the delicious smell of that grilled cheese and fries Matt knew you loved from the diner near your office. Picking up your phone, you quickly found Matt’s number and called him. The phone rang three times before he answered, greeting you with your name.

“So I’m pretty sure you have far surpassed boyfriend of the year,” you said.

Matt laughed, the sound bright and warm over your phone. It immediately drew a larger smile across your face. 

“I take it you got my delivery?” Matt asked.

“Yes and thank you,” you told him. “You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it, Matt.”

“Ah well, couldn’t exactly have my damsel in distress starving and under-caffeinated on her terrible Monday, could I?” he teased. “I figured that grilled cheese would help turn your day around.”

“I think you’ve reached sainthood today,” you joked, grabbing the cup of coffee and bringing it to your mouth. “Everyone will forever celebrate December fifth with grilled cheese and coffee in your honor.”

He laughed again as you took a sip of coffee, pleased that you were the one able to get him to laugh like that. Though as you went to set the coffee down on your desk, your hand bumped the armrest of your chair and you accidentally spilled some onto your dress pants. Your eyes narrowed at the little coffee stain, glaring at it.

“Well sweetheart, that sounds like blasphemy, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he teased. “So has your day turned around at all?”

“Besides your unexpected and welcome little delivery? No,” you answered him with a sigh. “I was incredibly late to work. Ellison wasn’t thrilled so now I’m covering that new ice cream shop opening. And I now smell like Katy’s yogurt on top of the mouthwash from this morning because I literally ran into her and somehow managed to get an entire spoonful in my hair.”

“How’s your hip doing?” he asked curiously.

“Bruised,” you replied as Matt made a sympathetic noise. “It hurts like hell. Checked on it earlier when I was washing the yogurt out of my hair and there’s definitely a huge bruise forming.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Matt said. “Why don’t you come over to my place tonight after work? I’ll be done at the office early today, we don’t have much going on. I’ll try to make your night better?”

You pulled a fry out of the takeout bag and nibbled a bite of it. “I’d love to, Matt, but I desperately need to do laundry. You distracted me all weekend and I didn’t get it done.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about anything this weekend,” Matt whispered over the line, his tone low and somehow managing to raise the hair along your arms. He quickly cleared his throat before adding on, “Besides, you’ve got clean work clothes at my place. Stay the night, do laundry tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” you hummed over the line, chewing the rest of the fry. “I did forget I had clothes there…”

“See?” he said quickly. “Come over after work. I’ll fix whatever bad day you’re having.”

Smiling, you felt your resolve quickly fading. “Alright, alright,” you caved. “I’ll come over. But tomorrow I really need to focus on laundry after work.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Matt replied enthusiastically. “I’ll see you in a few hours, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you too, Matty,” you said.

Hanging up, you set your phone on the desk before focusing on the lunch Matt had ordered for you. You hurried to pull the food out of the bag, knowing your lunch break was almost over and you needed to focus on that article for Ellison. Pulling out a ketchup packet for the fries, you opened it–but the ketchup squirted everywhere over your dress pants. You sat there for a minute in a mixture of disbelief and irritation, holding the now empty ketchup packet in the air above your lap.

“You have got to be kidding me!” you groaned out.

Monday Evening

Trudging down Matt’s hallway towards his door, you were carrying your soaked dress flats in your hand with a frown on your face. Your hip was absolutely killing you, the bruise having gotten worse at the end of the day. And since you didn’t have your purse, you didn’t have money for a cab and you’d had to walk back to Matt’s through the snow.

The rest of your afternoon had continued to go downhill after you’d finished the lunch Matt had ordered you. Your computer had somehow malfunctioned, completely erasing your almost finished article and forcing you to rewrite it from memory–and you knew it wasn’t nearly as good, even if it was just a fluff piece. In the office meeting Ellison had called for the afternoon, you’d somehow managed to grab the pen that decided to explode ink all over your hands. You still hadn’t been able to wash it off. To top your entire afternoon off, you’d briefly gotten stuck in the elevator on your way out of work, taking up a frustrating extra fifteen minutes. 

Exhausted, you reached a hand out to knock against Matt’s front door, but it quickly swung open before you had a chance. Your hand lowered to your side as Matt stood before you, dressed in a white tee-shirt and black sweatpants, an affectionate smile on his face that reached his eyes.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you warmly, stepping aside to let you in. He made a face as you passed him, nose scrunching. “Wow, you do smell like mouthwash and yogurt. And…ketchup?” 

Your shoulders sagged as you set your shoes down by the front door. Matt’s head tilted to the side as he closed the door after you.

“Why do you smell like ink?” he asked curiously.

“A pen exploded on me,” you deadpanned.

He exhaled a rough breath, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you down the entry hall. “You really did have a bad day, didn’t you?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you grumbled.

“Well,” Matt said as he led you to the living room, which was when you noticed what he’d been up to in the kitchen, “I made us dinner. It’s almost done, so if you’d like to go grab a shower and get comfortable, it should be done by then.” He quickly held up a hand before he added, “Oh, and it turns out you’d actually left your purse here. I put it on the coffee table so you wouldn’t forget it.” A small smile slid onto his face as he said softly, “The uh, the flowers on the table are for you, too. I mean, obviously since I can’t quite appreciate them. Though I do find lamb’s ear oddly soft.”

Swallowing hard, your gaze slid to the table behind him. In the center was a beautiful vase of white anemone and garden roses surrounded by lamb’s ear leaves and a few white hypericum berries. He’d clearly gone to a nice florist for those and spent a pretty penny. You felt tears sting at your eyes as your attention returned to Matt, his head shifting to the side a bit.

“Sweetheart?” he asked carefully.

Wordlessly you crossed the few feet between the pair of you, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. Instantly, as if instinctual, Matt’s strong arms encircled your shoulders, his chin lowering to rest on the top of your head. A few large tears slipped out of your eyes, dampening the soft fabric of his shirt beneath your face.

“My entire day has been exhaustingly awful,” you spoke into his shirt, voice muffled by the fabric, “until right now.” You squeezed him harder, eyes clamping shut as you tried to somehow bring him even closer to yourself. “I love you, Matt.”

He whispered your name before shifting atop your head, his lips kissing your hair. “I love you, too.”

You huffed out a sigh, eyes still closed. “So how terrible do I smell?” you asked him.

“Well, I mean it’s uh, it’s not that you smell bad , sweetheart,” Matt began lightly, “it’s just…you smell like a lot of different things. And it’s–”

“Bad,” you cut him off, laughing a little against him. “I smell fucking awful to you, I’m sure. I smell pretty gross to myself,” you said, turning to rest your ear against his chest as your tears slowed to a stop. “There’s mouthwash on my arms and old yogurt in my hair. And ketchup dried all over my pants along with some coffee. And like an entire ballpoint pen dried on my hands.”

“I mean it’s certainly quite the–” he fought back a laugh, “–interesting fragrance.”

You smiled as you felt his shoulders lightly shaking against you. “I’ll go shower,” you told him.

“I’ll have dinner done by the time you are,” he assured you.

With a sigh you squeezed your arms around him one more time. “Thank you, Matt,” you whispered. “You made my day brighter.”

One of his arms unwrapped itself from you, his hand gingerly tilting your face up towards his as he gazed back down at you. “You always brighten my days, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Just returning the favor.”

Leaning down, he kissed you sweetly and you melted into his strong, solid body. Somehow he always made you feel safe. Always made you feel better.

As he pulled back from the kiss, his hand tenderly tucking some of your hair behind your ear, you briefly wondered what it would actually look like to see him wearing a tux like he had at Marci and Foggy’s wedding, standing at the end of the aisle and waiting for you with that same smile on his face he had right now. The mental image had your knees weak and your pulse jumping.

“What?” Matt asked curiously.

“Nothing,” you whispered, smiling. “I’ll uh, I’ll just go grab that shower before dinner.”

[galadrieljones]

Showing up at Port Knot City for the first time like "Sorry I ruined so many of your sperm and egg samples and attracted a delusional terrorist to your parking lot. I hope you guys are doing okay with everything otherwise 👍"

[saltcove]

pairing: denmark/norway theme: fishermen & drowning sailors 

dawn scrapes the horizon, floods it with cold sun. lukas drags the net over the side of the rowboat, grunts and breaks his nails on the wooden edge. emil sits across from him, knotting rope and pressing fish down into the barrel. svaneke is colder than most port cities, births raw winter in his throat. 

“fokus, emil,” he snaps. lukas is swept with impatience. “the fish will not catch itself.”

“i am focused,” emil counters, muttering. lukas isn’t fond of his brother when he’s petulant and bored, disinterested. emil is on the cusp of sixteen, face sharper than most boys his age. lukas knows he would rather read than trawl, but there is no life for them but this. 

“more, then,” lukas stands, throws the net further. “i cannot be doing this on my own. this is not why i bring you.”

“why bring me at all?” emil knots with more fury. “you have it all figured out, storebror.”

lukas bites back a remark. it is always like this, but today is worse. today is worse because it is emil’s birthday. lukas sighs, drops down with a gust from his chest. “sorry. i know you’re tired.”

“i am,” emil looks up, icy. he directs his eyes elsewhere when lukas glares. “i suppose you are too.”

“i will survive this,” lukas sets a hand on emil’s knee, squeezes. “you will be more than a fisherman someday.” but not today, little brother.

emil makes to say something. it is caught in his throat, much like the thick knot his fingers loosen around. his eyes hinge over lukas’ shoulder at the shoreline, and lukas sighs. “we will get off the boat in an hour. be patient.”

emil’s mouth gapes. snaps closed. “brother.”

lukas wets his mouth, gets up again to tend the net. “what is it, emil?”

“i—” emil stops himself. 

lukas rolls his eyes. “has the seawitch stolen your voice?”

“brother,” emil’s paling face has lukas’ focus. dials him in. “look.”

lukas frowns, turns to glance over his own shoulder. he isn’t sure where he’s being directed, scans the shoreline with vacancy. they’re not too far from land, hardly at all. lukas’ eyes pull apart the dark sand and the short pier and then he sees it. 

a man.

a body, pressed into the sand, sea casting over it. 

his words lose power. “row, emil.”

emil scrambles for the oars, composure lost. lukas hisses and heaves and brings the net into the boat before helping him. cold water hits his abdomen, but lukas’ pulse is hot, furious; that is a deadman. he is dead. he must have been. 

he must have been—

without a word, lukas drops the net and flies over the edge of the rowboat in a dive. emil’s voice is replaced by water—arctic and stinging, lung-cramping. lukas swims under, pushes with his feet, pulled back by his own clothes. he swims like he can save something. he’s dead. 

breaking for air, his boots hit the seafloor and lukas treads with clumsy, rushed indignance. closer, the body is lulling in the shallow water. bigger than his, stronger. lukas grabs the man by his lapel and drags, forces them both out onto the beach. 

dropping to his knees, he crosses palms over the man’s chest. pushes, pushes. his hair has come loose from its clip, dripping down onto a pale cheek. the man is drained of colour, his nose too white and his mouth parched with salt. lukas pushes down on his chest, frustration coiling his expression. he’s desperate. faen. 

pinching the man’s nose closed, he brings their cold, open mouths together and breathes. full breaths that hurt his freezing lungs. again. again. 

he’s met with salt water against the chin and a furious fit of coughing.  

lukas’ relief drops him back onto the sand. the adrenaline has singed his nerves to the point of numbness. lukas closes his eyes, prays. 

the man makes no move to get up, groans and turns on his side against the sand. he’s facing lukas, eyes pinched, starting to open. he’s a sailor—maybe. something more, by his rings and his wool. lukas stares, terrified, until the man finally opens his eyes. 

he is staring right at lukas. lukas is staring back. 

“where,” he croaks. it’s danish. 

“here,” lukas answers dumbly. “i—svaneke.”

the man hisses and tries to sit up, falling back on his elbows. “sød guder.”

“stay still, dane,” lukas urges. emil has somehow made it to the coast as well, and lukas hisses at him to seek help. the boy scrambles off. 

“you saved me,” the man rasps, failing once more to sit up, words broken over with fits of coughing. he lays back and stares at the sky. “your name, siren?”

“lukas,” he supplies. “i am a man.”

“you are no man,” it’s scoffed, like he cannot believe it. “you are divine to have found me.”

lukas swallows. he is a fisherman. “i am not.”

the man turns his head, cheek pressed into the wet sand. “you are more than man—to have countered the sea.”