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itsbeeble · 10 months ago

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Take My Soul, Take My Heart

SUMMARY: Seonghwa is a monster, this he knows. He is a monster, but he just can't help the obsession he has with love. You have taken his soul, staked your claim on his heart, and now he wants all of you

GENRE: smut, angst

PAIRING: pirate!Park Seonghwa x afab!reader

WC: 6,571

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie

FIC TAGLIST: @sanaxo-o

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: jesus christ yall im wishing you luck with this fic fr, lots of plot, violence (like a lot), many mentions of blood, weapons (knives, swords, guns), threats, swearing, alcohol, seonghwa is lowkey obsessed with love, Seonghwa and reader are both a bit psychotic, they kill a man (actually many men), bad depictions of pirates arrrrghhhhh, manipulation, murder, mentions of brothels, actually there are some scenes in a brothel so yeah, p in v sex, marking, oral (f and m receiving), poorly done dirty talk i fear, unprotected sex (please wrap it irl), this is actually kind of vile, mayhaps future hongjoong x reader but who knows, not edited so pls lmk if i forgot anything or if anything looks dumb as hell

A/N: HEYYYYYYY how y'all doinggggggg. thank you to @deobienthusiast for beta reading this IT TOOK ME SO LONG BUT RAAAHHHHHHH SHE HELPED MEEEEE. I've been wanting to do a pirate fic for so long but i never got around to it BUT HERE WE AREEEE PLEASE ENJOY AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKED IT PLSPLSPLS

Seonghwa learned a long time ago that love was nearly impossible with his life style.

No matter his charms, no matter his will, no matter how he fucked, no one would stay. Not once they found out who he was, what he’s done. The crimes he’s committed are enough to sway those that he swore he would protect as he worshipped them under the light of the moon, above the swaying waves. Love, however, is nothing to him compared to the power he feels when on the ocean.

It was a choice hat he made a long time ago. A promise, really, that he made to Hongjoong the moment he’d stepped onto the wooden planks of the Blue Bird. He gave up the idea of love when he first drew a blade, when he felt the first drops of blood hit his skin and stain his clothing. The blood of men and women who threatened his crew, who threatened his lovers, who threatened him. He’d grown accustomed to the metallic stench, to the warmth of the red liquid against his skin. He practically bathed in it, relished in the feeling of it.

Seonghwa doesn’t understand it, this feeling in his chest. This burning to be worshipped and loved. He cannot comprehend the longing, the desire in his stomach and in his heart. The longing that never leaves, lingering at the corner of his mind and at the tip of his tongue. Love is nothing compared to the power he feels with the weight of a blade in his hand, the metal of a gun at his hip. Love is a hindrance, love is nothing compared to the feeling of his weapon cutting through the air, through the flesh and bone of those who wrong him.

Seonghwa is soaked in blood still as he steps off the ship, his boots leaving wet footprints against the dock. Had the color of his clothing not been violently stained in the color, it could have been mistaken for the salty water that pushes and pulls against the rocky cliffs around him. A shoulder brushes against his, a hand pressing back against his chest to stop him in his tracks as Hongjoond looks up at him. That stern look is in his eye, one that the first mate had grown used to over the years.

“You know what we’re here for,” the captain’s voice is raspy. “Do us all a favor and don’t get distracted by any…side quests, if you will.”

Seonghwa’s tongue runs over his teeth, his shoulders rolling back and one of his hands coming to rest on the hilt of his sword.

“When do I ever get distracted?” Hongjoong’s eyes are weary with travel, flicking from Seonghwa’s head down to his toes.

“Not what I meant, Hwa.”

“He means,” Wooyoung comes from behind the two, squeezing between them and throwing his arms around their shoulders. “Don’t fuck anyone. You know it never ends well for either party.”

Seonghwa’s lip curls at the younger crew member’s words but he manages to hold his tongue.

“Leave the man alone, Wooyoung.” San chides, pulling the cook back by the collar. “It’s not his fault he becomes blind when it comes to women.” Both men laugh, and Hongjoong folds his hands behind his back.

“And this is funny to you two because��?” the captain’s eyebrow arches, his eyes glittering with a warning.

“Well, I mean,” San stands a bit straighter. “Shouldn’t he know by now that ‘love’ doesn’t work with our lifestyle? Women find us, they fuck, take a bit of gold, and run off or try to kill us before the sun rises. Sometimes both at the same time. Love isn’t something that works with us. We’re blind to it, or it is blind to us.”

Seonghwa pushes Wooyoung off his shoulder, his lips drawn into a thin line. Suddenly the bloody clothing that clings to his body burn like fire, uncomfortable and scratchy.

“I have things to do,” he states with an eerie calmness. “I’ll be back by sundown.”

You take notice of the man the moment he steps into the tavern. Maybe it was his delicate features. Maybe it was the way the tavern went quiet with something similar to awe or fear or both.

Or maybe it was the blood staining his clothing and dripping onto your freshly cleaned fucking floor.

You can barely hold your tongue as he approaches your counter, your jaw ticking and your eyes narrowed. His own, like that of a fox, are darting from person to person as if measuring how long it would take to strike them down. In a bar full of pirates, he is one of few that came alone.

When his eyes land on you, he straightens his spine. I am powerful, I am a god, fear me. His body language is screaming the words, but you’re screaming right back.

One wrong fucking move and I’ll have your ass on the ground with a bullet between those pretty eyes before you can blink.

His lips twitch up into a smirk, yours deepen into a scowl.

“You got blood on my floor.”

“I apologize.”

“You don’t sound genuine.”

He leans against the counter, eyes searching yours curiously. A glove-covered hand slides a gold coin toward you, your heart jolts.

“I am sorry.”

“Apology accepted, gorgeous.” Your painted red lips curl into a delighted smile as you snatch up the coin before curious hands wandered a bit too close. “What can I get for you?”

“Mead, any will do.” His eyes seem to be searching you, sizing you up, and his tongue runs over his teeth. You do as he says, all too aware of his eyes watching you and staring you up and down. You weren’t a fool. You knew of your…features and what drew customers in. Men, women, you couldn’t care less so long as it got you what you wanted. Gold. Silver. Fuck, even copper would do sometimes. There was hardly a level you wouldn’t stoop to if it meant paying back your debt.

You turn back to him, a mug of honey wine in one hand. He still watches you, curious and unashamedd of how how examines you. You let him, knowing deep down that you were doing precisely the same in order to ignore the man under your counter.

“Anything else, gorgeous?” You lean forward, tongue dancing across your red lips. He watches the motion and smiles coyly.

“Information.”

You kiss your teeth, arms folding on the counter as you watch him glance around the bar. “On?”

“A man going by the name of Socha.”

Your body stills, fingers curling into tight fists. You feel eyes burning into your skull, and the gun barrel pressing into your hip grows tighter.

“I know of no one by that name.”

The man searches your gaze, and you can’t find yourself wanting to look away. You want so desperately to scream out. He’s here, you want to tell him, there is a gun against my hip and a room filled with his crew all around you. Help me!

“Are you sure?” The man leans closer to you, tilting his head and bringing his lips close to your ear. “There’s a reward in it for you if you tell me where he is.”

“I know of no one by that name.” You repeat. “I would greatly appreciate it if you left my bar now, sir.”

He pulls back from you, pursing his lips briefly before returning to the malicious smirk. “If you change your mind, find Seonghwa on the Blue Bird.”

You don’t move a muscle until the door he entered through is shut. The tavern returns to its original volume, and the gun against your hip lowers. Your fists unfurl, and the gold coin hits the ground.

Socha rises from beneath your counter, lips spread in a vile grin and a stench that makes you want to gag.

“Maybe you’ll be useful after all, barkeep.” He leans in close to you, raising his gun to brush stray hair out of your face. Your throat tightens and your eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in your body screaming to run. “Loyalty isn’t something we take lightly on the Skylark.”

“I understand,” you choke out, praying to anyone who might listen that the gun leaves your temple. “Thank you for the…opportunity to prove my worth.”

Seonghwa doesn’t appreciate liars.

He also doesn’t appreciate the fact that the captain of the Skylark had decided to take an innocent woman hostage at his favorite bar in his favorite city.

It was obvious what had been happening. Sure, it was typical for a port city to be filled to the brim with pirates, especially at the local taverns. What wasn’t typical was for the tavern to be filled to the brim with pirates wearing clothing the color of drying blood, a symbol that the Skylark crew had taken in the early days when Socha spilled blood across the ocean for miles and miles, his clothing stained so dark it looked black.

He wasn’t stupid. He saw the fear sparking in your eyes the moment he said Socha’s name. Now it was time for him to wait for you to come to him.

“You seem so sure that this barkeep will show her face.” Yeosang sits on the steps leading to the upper deck, twirling a curved blade between his fingers.

“She was terrified. Socha was there. Whether she wants to or not, she’ll be on this ship tonight with information we need.”

Seonghwa leans against the railing, steadying himself against the waves that crash against the side of the ship. He’d changed out of the bloodstained clothing hours ago, washed the dried liquid off of his skin and let it run into the ocean. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden light against his face that he soaks in with delight. The warmth of these last rays clings to him, and it’s when the sun has finally set below the horizon that he accepts that you will not be coming to the ship this night.

“Maybe you need to do a bit more convincing than just giving a woman gold,” Yunho stomps up the stairs from the lower deck, a crate in his hands and a grin on his lips. “Maybe that’ll get you something in a brothel, but that was a woman working in a tavern. She knows better.”

“Shut up, Yunho.” Seonghwa spits out, whirling on his feet and stalking toward the gangway with burning ears and a boiling hot temper.

He was pissed. He had truly believed that you’d show up. Was Socha still holding you in that tavern? Were you afraid of him? Were you afraid of what might happen if the captain found out? Were you loyal to the Skylark?

Seonghwa huffs, his hand finding the hilt of his sword again as he makes his way into the port city. It’s busier now that the sun is down, the streets crowded and filled with vendors of all sorts. Weaponsmiths, farmers, beggars, thieves. The streets became alive with everyone under the stars. It made it more difficult to maneuver quickly and quietly, but Seonghwa knew that he would only draw attention to himself if he moved any faster than he was.

A delicate hand grabs his elbow and faster than the brothel worker could blink, there’s a dagger against her throat and her back is against the wall. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted with shock. Seonghwa drops the blade just as fast as he’d drawn it, his eyes lit with annoyance.

“Care for a step inside?” Her tone, despite her previous shock, was sultry and enough to draw almost any many in.

“I am not interested in what you have to offer.” Seonghwa begins to pull away, but her grip tightens. Her eyes are desperate now, and Seonghwa allows himself to pause.

“I believe you will be very interested to know that someone has paid good money to speak to you,” she speaks quickly, tugging at his arm to guide him to the door. “Please. Step inside. They will guide you to where you need to be.”

Against all that tells him to turn the other way and run, Seunghwa listens to the woman. She steps to the side, that seductive look plastered back onto her face as she guides him and other patrons into the building.

The stench of sex is heavy in the air. It’s thick and nearly overwhelming his senses. Or, perhaps, it is the burning incense that overwhelms him. The smoke provides a haze, distracting him from the naked bodies all around him. Scattered across th4e ground, in chairs, on tables, in rooms that are only covered by a loose, sheer cloth overe the doorway. He avoids looking at anyone he can, but then his eyes find you.

You’re tucked away in the corner farthest from him, your eyes watching his every move. His head tilts, tracing your body with his eyes. Nearly bare like the women around you, covered only by a shear cloth seemingly lined with gold. You tilt your head up, practically beckoning him toward you.

He follows you, putting up no fight against the primal urges inside of him that tell him to pin you against the wall and take you right there.

His steps, careful and calculated, weave through the bodies on the floor, following you into the darkest corners of the brothel. You don’t let him get close, no matter how he chases you. It’s like a game to you, and you’re winning. Seonghwa lets it happen.

“I’m sure you understand why I brought you here,” you murmur, your voice hardly louder than the sexual noises around you. A private room in the very back of the building and secured by a wooden door. “I had to speak to you where we could be…private, able to speak freely.”

Seonghwa, for a long moment, doesn’t say a word. He watches the way your hips sway with every step, watches how you bend forward to light each candle.

“You said you wanted information,” you speak again, coming to stand directly in front of him. Your breasts brush against his ribcage, your hands reaching for his. “I’m prepared to give you it.”

“In exchange for a quick fuck?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head at you. You only smirk.

“I had to bring you somewhere logical. Pirates love brothels almost as much as they love my bar. Besides, if anyone comes stomping in here, at least they’ll get a good show, won’t they?”

You push Seonghwa towards the large fur-covered mattress with more force than he’d expected. He stumbles back, letting himself fall back until his spine meets fur. You’re quick to crawl over him, sheer fabric coming loose and allowing your breasts to come free.

“Why are you looking for Socha?” You ask him, hips rolling down against his. Seonghwa stifles a groan, relishing in the feeling of your grinding hips and the way your nails digging into his chest. His hands grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing tight enough to leave marks.

“Why was he in your bar?” the pirate counters, eyes drooping in a lust filled haze. You click your tongue leaning down and nipping at the lobe of his ear.

“I asked a question first.” Your lips trail kisses down his neck, a trail of red lipstick following you, and Seonghwa feels air brush against his chest as you undo the buttons of his shirt. “Answer me, gorgeous.”

“He has something of mine,” he says, annoyingly calm given the circumstances you have him in. “I want it back.”

You roll your hips down with more force, leaning back to admire his sculpted body. You shouldn’t be shocked. He’s a pirate after all. One with a gorgeous face, gorgeous body, and you’d be willing to bet his cock is equally as perfect. Your mouth waters at the thought, your body sliding back so you have easy access to his cock.

“What does he have?”

Seonghwa sits up, leaning back on his hands as you work at his pants. A lazy smirk is plastered on his face, one that has your stomach churning and pussy dripping with need.

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts. “My turn to ask a question.”

His hips lift as you start pulling his pants down, exposing his half-hard cock to your eyes in the dim candlelight.

“Ask away, gorgeous.” Your hands inch forward, reaching for his cock in an act of near desperation.

“Why was Socha and his crew in your bar?” Seonghwa watches as you wrap a hand around him, a breath of air hissing out of him as you stroke him gently up and down. Your eyes lock with his as you lean down to spit on his cock, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from losing his composure.

You shrug at his question, letting a bit more spit drip from your mouth as you pump his now fully erect cock. “They wanted drinks, I suppose.”

“Bullshit and you know it.” Seonghwa grunts, letting his head roll back. You smirk, letting your free hand slip down to cup his balls.

“Tell you what,” you dip your head down and place a kiss to his tip. “Let me please you, and if you aren’t satisfied I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“And if I’m satisfied?” He asks, reaching a hand to tangle his fingers in your hair.

“You take me with you out of this godforsaken city.”

Seonghwa’s breath, for the first time, stills. He searches your eyes for something, anything to tell him what might be happening.

“You…you want to come with…with me?”

He’s confused. Why on Earth would someone like you want to come with him? “You have a life here. People who care about you, guaranteed safety. Why would you—”

“I have nothing here.” You spit out, leaning up to look him in the eyes. “I have misery and shame and misfortune. I do not care that I will not be safe with you.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Then we will make the choice later.” You kiss him gently, leaving him aching for more of you. “Let me satisfy your needs, Seonghwa.” Your hand pushes at his chest, urging him to lay back.

“I don’t even know your name,” Seonghwa’s head hits a pillow, letting his gaze settle on the ceiling above him.

“Do you need to?” He can feel your lips trailing down his chest, nipping at his skin and leaving marks he knows will not go away.

“It would be nice to know who I’m speaking to.” Who I’m fucking.

“I suppose,” your lips touch his hip, right beside a trail of hair, and he can feel the way they curl into a grin. “You can call me Y/N.”

Seonghwa can’t get a response out before your lips are wrapping around his cock. His fingers curl into the furs beneath him, fighting the urge to buck his hips into your mouth and force you to take as deep as you can. You could probably handle it, but he knows he needs to exercise restraint for himself if anything.

Your nails dig into his thighs, leaving little red crescents in his golden skin as you take him. He can feel your throat constricting around his cock, trying desperately not to gag as his tip hits the back of your throat. Your tongue runs along the underside of his shaft as you pull yourself off of him, kitten licking the tip before taking him all the way back down again. Your nose presses against his pelvis, and Seonghwa can feel tears hitting his skin. Or, perhaps, it’s spit dripping out of the corners of your mouth as you hollow your cheeks and swallow around him.

Finally a pitiful groan is pulled from his lips.

Deep and gravelly as if he’d been holding it in for far longer than his body wanted him to. Your eyes peer up at him, your tongue laving at his balls and your hand pumping up and down while your mouth is occupied. Seonghwa’s hips jolt, little drops of precum leaking from his tip in an endless stream. His back arches as your mouth returns to his aching cock, your pace fast and harsh as you swallow around him and suck as you pull back up, urging him to cum faster.

His back arches off the bed, his jaw drop and hollow moans pouring from his lips. One of his hands finds your hair, holding you in place as he begins to piston his hips up. Your eyes widen, your hands flailing briefly to find purchase on something, anything to keep you somewhat upright. You’re gagging now, unable to help it as Seonghwa’s cock punches the back of your throat.

You like it, though. You like how rough he is with you, the way he lets himself lose control and become blinded by his own pleasure. His hands yank at the strands of your hair, and a moan escapes you. The vibrations run down his cock, and suddenly Seonghwa’s hips stutter and thick, white hot liquid is spurting down your throat. You try pulling off of him, the liquid coming out too quickly for you to keep up with, but Seonghwa forces you back down, forces you to take all of it down his throat.

“That’s it,” he coos, breathless and mocking. “Take it all. Take everything I’m giving you.” The snide comments pull a whimper out of you, and you allow yourself to relax just enough to swallow all of his cum.

When he finally releases you and allows you to pull off, there’s droplets of cum running down your chin. Your cheeks are burning, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and you’re pretty sure your hair is a knotted, uncontrollable mess.

He’s smirking down at you. I am powerful, I am a god, fear me.

You raise yourself up, slotting your lips against his. You are powerful. I am not afraid of you.

“Are you satisfied, then?” You murmur, letting one hand come up to cup the back of his neck, the other slipping down to soothe the ache in your dripping pussy. Seonghwa kisses his teeth.

“You think my cock down your throat is enough to satisfy me, darling?” Your breath hitches at the vile nature of his words. It isn’t as if you hadn’t heard that before, however he says it so…condescendingly. As if you were a fool to assume that he would be done with you just yet.

“Are you not…satisfied?”

“I’ll make you a deal, darling,” The tip of a blade rests under your chin and your stomach churns, however it isn’t with fear. No…this is something else entirely. This is…lust? No…it burns too sweet to be lust. “Take me to Socha, kill him yourself, and fuck me in his bed while my captain kills the rest of his crew, and then I’ll be satisfied. Do we have a deal?”

“Will you let me come with you?” Your eyes gleam, and Seonghwa jerks your head up to kiss you. ‘Kiss’ being a very loose term. With his blade against your throat, he shoves his tongue into your mouth, and you push yours against him just as hard. Teeth clash, biting at each othe harshly in a motion that’ll leave you both bruised and bleeding.

“I’ll let you come with me.”

You weren’t expecting them to trust you. Hell, you half expected to be shot dead the moment you stepped onto the Blue Bird. Hongjoong stairs you down with curiosity and doubt in his gaze, but he says nothing as the crew argues over whether or not to trust you and your word. Or, rather, Seonghwa’s word.

“You think we can trust her?” Mingi is eyeing you up and down, his lips curled into a sneer. “She’s a barkeep, she’ll say anything for some gold and a quick fuck.”

You bare your teeth right back at him. “Is that not what a pirate is? Roaming the seas and sticking their cocks into the first hole they see and grabbing as much gold and ale as they can carry?”

Mingi is far larger than you are, but you are not afraid. You cannot be afraid if you wish to be on this ship for the rest of your days. You cannot be afraid of the men Seonghwa sails with and commands.

“And what of Seonghwa?” Jongho, the quiet one in the corner, chimes in. “Do we not trust him? Right hand of our captain, are you doubting that he has our best interest in his mind?”

“I think that he slept with the first person he saw and immediately became blind to reality.” Mingi snaps back. “How long before this one leaves you? How long before you decide you’re sick of her and throw her overboard?”

Your heart drops to your stomach and your head whips to look up at Seonghwa who has gone still beside you.

“What is he talking about, Seonghwa?” Your hand pulls from his, but he grabs it right back.

“He is speaking nonsense,” he snaps, eyes glaring at Mingi. “I know exactly what I am doing. I know who I can and cannot trust. She is loyal to us, not to anyone else.”

“And you got all that from having your cock down her—”

“Enough!” Hongjoong’s voice rises over the others. All it takes is that one word for all to go quiet, their gazes on him as he rises from his seat on the table. “Seonghwa is my right hand, if he says that this woman is to be trusted then she will be trusted by us!”

“But—” Mingi tries to argue but a pair of dagger-like eyes hone in on him.

“Do you want to be on slop duty?” Mingi’s face goes green and the eyes are trained back on you. “And you— are you so certain that you want to join us?”

“I am certain, Captain,” you tell him, dipping your head into a nod. “I have never wanted anything more.”

“Then it’s settled,” Hongjoong declares. “We kill Socha at sunset tomorrow.”

There’s an odd sense of safety that you feel while you approach the Skylark. You can hear the chatter of the crew from the edge of the gangway, but you know that a crew of your own is watching and waiting for your signal.

Your signal, of course, being Socha’s body being dumping into the harbor.

“Hey! Look who it is!”

A hand clamps down onto your shoulder and you grimace at the first mate’s disgusting smile.

“Little miss barkeep came to pay us a visit!” The crew erupts into cheers, some calling for a drink and some calling for you to give them a show. Bile rises in your throat at the sounds they make. Suddenly the blade up your sleeve feels a lot lighter in your hand. “How can we help you, little miss?”

“I need to speak with Socha.” Your voice holds steady, thankfully.

“Socha isn’t expecting you today.” The first mate clicks his tongue. “I’ll take a message.”

“This is urgent,” you argue. “I have information on the Blue Bird’s crew.”

The first mate barks out a laugh, throwing his head back as he bellows. The crew joins him, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

“You think we give a fuck about that measly little crew?” The first mate cries.

“What are those dumb fucks going to do to a crew of 80 men?” Someone across the deck cries. “We have ten to their one, they can try but they won’t fucking get past the gangway.”

“Now, now gentlemen.” A deeper, gravelly voice to your right grabs everyone’s attention. Socha leans against a railing closest to his cabin, lip curled at you in what looks like disguswt. “The little miss has information for us! We should hear her out.”

“Socha,” you breathe out andhe clicks his tongue.

“I don’t believe we have rewarded you yet for your…loyalty, have we?” He’s five steps from you, almost close enough to stab him. His hand reaches for you, and you take it. Two steps, only a bit too far from the edge of the ship.

“Can we…can we speak a bit more privately?” You look at him through your eyelashes, lips pushed out just a bit. “It’s a little loud out here.”

“Of course, little miss.” Socha’s hand on the small of your back makes you want to light someone on fire. It disgusts you, and the bile begins to rise in your stomach again as he guides you to his quarters. He lets you in first, keeping his eyes on your swaying hips the entire time.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, you spin around to face him.

He’s one step away.

The knife in your sleeves drops into your palm.

You raise your blade to strike him.

A gunshot.

Both of you go silent, your bodies going still. There’s something wet soaking your skirts, you stumble back. Your eyes raise to the man behind Socha.

The captain hits the ground, blood pooling around him. Blood stains your cheeks and your white shirt.

There’s commotion outside the cabin.

“I had it handled, Seonghwa.” Your eyes narrow, and your lover barks out a laugh.

“I know, darling. But he would have shot you the moment he saw that blade.” A body hits the door, wood beginning to splinter as Seonghwa takes the two steps he needs to reach you. Blood soaks the bottoms of his boots, but neither of you care. His hands come to cup your cheeks, blood smearing across your skin as he brushes over your cheekbones with his thumbs.

“You did wonderfully, my love.” He murmurs, and you find yourself beaming. “I think, however, you still have part of your deal to hold up to.”

“His cabin is a bit far,” your lips are brushing his and you lift your head just a bit to try and kiss him but he tuts at you.

“A deal is a deal, my love. I will not be fucking you near a dead body.” His nose curls and he kicks Socha out of the way.

“Fine. Have it your way, gorgeous.”

You take his hand in your own, swinging the door of the captain’s quarters open to reveal the end of a blood bath. Hongjoong is watching from the upper deck as the other six members of his crew dump bodies into the harbor. You catch his eye as you move through the masses and down to Socha’s cabin and he gives you a small nod.

You did well.

I know I did. You keep your head high, a proud smirk on your lips before you disappear with Seonghwa hot on your heels.

Seonghwa’s lips are hot on your neck, his hands dancing over your body grabbing at everything they can. Airy moans pull from your lips, an addicting sound that has Seonghwa afraid that you may be a siren. He cannot get enough of you, cannot pull away even if he tried.

In the center of the room, the two of you stand bare and ready for each other. A pile of clothes surrounds you, a bed behind you and a desk covered in papers in front of you.

“You’re fucking addicting,” Seonghwa growls, grabbing at your hair and yanking your head back to bare your neck for him. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

You can’t respond, hands shaking as they grab at Seonghwa just as harshly as he’d grabbed you. Your nails scratch down his chest, his back. Into his hips to try and force him closer to your body, but he keeps himself just out of your reach.

“Mingi was right,” Seonghwa grunts as he spins you around, pinning you against the desk and throwing everything that was on it to the side to make way for you. He shoves you back, pinning your shoulders against it. “I became blind to reality the moment I saw you in that fucking tavern. Addicted to you the moment you spoke to me.”

His lips reattach to your skin, making their way down your throat, past the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. His hands grip the flesh your thighs, forcing your thighs apart to make way for him. You’re dripping for him, you can feel the liquid pooling at your center, dripping down your thighs and onto the desk below you.

“Fuck, I will never go a day without looking at this pretty pussy.”

Seonghwa’s hand rubs against your folds, spreading them and rubbing your slick around for a moment before pulling back.

Smack!

The sting is almost unbearable, your back arching as you wail and Seonghwa’s hand cracks down on your pussy once more.

“So pretty for me, love when I get rough, hm?” You can barely hear him. Hell, you don’t think he can hear himself in this lust filled haze. “You’ve taken my soul, taken my heart from its confines. You have to pay for that, you know?”

You whine when his lips touch your cunt for the first time. Soft at first, kitten licks and little kisses against your clit that quickly become harsh sucks and nips that have your back arching and legs thrashing over his shoulders. It’s easy for him to pin your body down, making heat growing in your stomach as he eats you like a man starved. His long tongue dips into you, digging in as far as it can go before Seonghwa drags it up to swirl around your clit, drawing figure-eights with the tip of it and making your body writhe before he repeats the process.

A knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach, and you cry and beg for Seonghwa to please please please, faster, more more, god please. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as he focuses his attention on your puffy clit, digging his tongue into it and listening to the way you scream his name. Your back arches one final time before you’re coming undone beneath him, your body quivering and your hole clenching repeatedly. Your hands find purchase in his dark hair, yanking at the strands for some semblance of a grasp on reality.

You don’t get long to recover before Seonghwa is flipping you over and pinning you down again, face down against the desk. You can practically smell your own cum, and you try to push yourself up just a little bit.

“You’re not trying to get up, are you?” Seonghwa’s lips are right next to your ear. “You know what to say if you want me stop, darling.” His lips nip at your ear and you whine desperately, finally caving and letting your arms drop. “Good girl.”

His hands rub against the backs of your legs, massaging them gently before spreading them open once more.

“You ready for me?” His hand traces along your dripping folds, waiting patiently for your response.

“Please, Seonghwa,” you whine. “Please fuck me!”

So he does.

The stretch burns as he pushes in, but he’s quick to soothe you, kissing your shoulders and down your spine so, so gently compared to what you know he’s going to do to you. Your walls clamp down on him like a vice, trying desperately to push him out but pull him in at the same time.

“So tight,” he groans, biting into your back as he finally sheathes himself inside of you completely, engulfed by the warmth of your walls and somewhat reluctant to pull out again. “Fuck, you feel so good around me, darling.”

“Hwa,” you moan out, hands clawing at the desk as you try to push back against him, trying to get him deeper inside of you. “Please, please move!”

His hips begin moving before you can finish your statement. He sets a fast, brutal pace, each thrust punching the air out of you and leaving you wailing his name. You scramble to find purchase on the edges of the desk, holding tightly so as to not slide off. Seonghwa grabs at your shoulder with one hand, the other gripping your hip as he slams his hips against yours. His cock reaches places you never believe one could, brushing against a spot inside of you that has your vision going white with pleasure, your hiccuped moans becoming nearly silent screams. The knot inside of you draws tight again, and Seonghwa is practically throwing you over the edge as your body seizes up once more.

“Fuck,” he grunts out. “Cumming again already?”

“I— I can—can’t help it!” You hiccup. “Feel—feels so—so good!”

“Yeah, I bet it does,” Seonghwa grunts, letting his head fall back and his jaw fall open as your fluttering walls force him closer to the edge than he wants to be. “Fuck, don’t wanna cum yet but this pussy feels too good.”

His body folds over yours, one of his hands slipping down to find your clit. Cries of overstimulation pull from your lips, your body shaking as he continues to rail you into the desk. Seonghwa’s hips begin to stutter, and the moment he feels your walls flutter around his for the final time, he’s cumming. He breathing is ragged, quiet whines pulled from his lips as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You can barely move as he pulls out of you, your body covering in sweat and cum. Seonghwa runs a hand over his face, catching his breath and brushing his hair back.

“You alright?” He crouches near your face, tracing a finger along your cheekbone while you recover. “Here, let me help you.”

Seonghwa is quick to lift you up, shushing you when you whine, and carries you over to a surprisingly luscious bed. He sits against the wall, your body curling into his as you both recover. The steady rocking of the waves against the ship seems to calm you, your breathing evening out until you’re fast asleep in his lap.

He’s almost asleep himself until the door of the captain’s cabin swings open and Hongjoong barges in.

The captain’s eyes fall to you briefly, and Seonghwa swears he can see his tongue running over his lip before Hongjoong’s eyes are back on the right hand.

“We gotta get going, soldiers from the upper city are on their way down to find out why there’s bodies in the water.”

Your body stirs, eyes fluttering open quietly and Seonghwa grins.

His heart and soul belongs to you now. You, the first and only one to not run from the monster he’d become.

“And so it begins.”

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cloudlessly-light · 25 days ago

Note

How about Emily riding/going down on Hotch while he’s on the phone to another woman (maybe Beth) who’s flirting with him/asking him out?

Or Hotch fucking Emily knowing some cop or unsub or someone who’s flirted with her can hear/see if they look?

Exhibitionism + possessiveness = 🫠

Title: You’re still everything I want Summary: She’s back from Paris and everything is different, except for one thing. She still wants Aaron. Unlucky for her, he seems to have met someone else but she refuses to let that happen. Afterall, he was hers. Word count: 4,4k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, teasing, oral sex, exhibionism (kind of) breath play, jealousy, Emily is staking her claim, not that we blame her, feelings if you squint, idiots in lust and in love

She comes back from Paris and everything is different. Her relationship with her friends is different, her relationship with her work is different, but most importantly, her relationship with him was different. Before Doyle, before everything, they had been close to… something.

It was twisted pleasure, hidden touches, softer glances, words whispered in the dark that they weren’t comfortable saying too loudly yet. But it was there, the attraction, the longing, the want. It was the beginning of them.

She had been in lust with him for a long time, had thought that it was all it was. But then her chest would involuntarily clench with adoration for him, her hands would itch to feel his skin under her palms, and she knew that it wasn’t just lust.

Luckily for her, he felt the same.

They had barely begun, a few weeks spent together hidden away from the world as they wrung pleasure and something not yet dared spoken from each other. But then Doyle shows up, her life unravels, and with that whatever possible future they could have unravels too. At least that’s what she thinks, as she readies herself to start a new life.

Seven long months go by and then he calls. She’s on a plane before she knows it and after everything, she finds herself back in the place where she had always felt at home.

Only it’s not home anymore, because Aaron isn’t there. At least not like he used to. She hadn’t realized how much serenity he had brought to her until she didn’t have it anymore. But she’s back, she’s where she wants to be and if she had to spend her days back to longing for Aaron, it would be worth it, she thought.

That is until she’s on a plane, hearing Penelope ask Dave if Aaron is dating someone and the lump in her stomach is so heavy she feels like she’ll throw up. It’s unfair of her, she knows that, but she wasn’t ready for him to move on from whatever they were close to having. It wasn’t fair, and she wasn’t going to let him push her away anymore.

Afterall, he was hers.

“Can we talk?” She shows up at his door with a bottle of bourbon and dressed in red, his favorite color and she knows not all hope is lost when his dark eyes flit over her quickly.

“Is everything alright?” He lets her in and that’s another good sign, she thinks.

“Yeah, I just figured it was time to talk,” She sits down on the couch and ignores memories of his hands on her body while being on that exact couch. “about us.”

He grabs two glasses before sitting down next to her on the other end of the couch and draws a long sigh.

“Okay.” He says while pouring the amber liquid into the glasses.

“You’ve distanced yourself from me.” It’s blunt, she knows it is, but she always had been and he just barely hides a small smile at her attitude.

“I thought that would be better… since everything.” His eyebrows narrow when she lets out a scoff.

“How is it better?” She takes a sip of her drink and relishes the burn as it slides down her throat. “I thought we were close to something really good.”

“We were.” His eyes search her face for a moment, his voice soft as he speaks.

“But?” She could see his fingers twitching around his glass, a sign that he was holding himself back from touching her and God, what she wouldn’t do to feel his touch again.

“But I almost didn’t know what to do with myself while you were away, not a day went by when I didn’t want to call you, when I didn’t think about you.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bopping with the motion and she almost reaches out for him.

“I don’t see why that’s an issue now, when I’m back.” Her eyes stay on his and she sees different emotions reflected back at her. For a few seconds it’s silent between them and she almost thinks that he’s going to kiss her. But then he clears his throat and straightens slightly.

“I had to move on.” He says simply but there’s no conviction to his words. He hadn’t moved on, no matter what woman he might have met.

“Well,” She downs the rest of the bourbon in one gulp. “I’m not ready to give up on this.” When she stands he does the same and she takes a small step closer to him, just enough for his breathing to hitch. “And I’m pretty sure you aren’t either.” She whispers against his ear, a smile curling against his jaw when he tenses at her proximity.

When she leaves only a few moments later one thing is clear to her, he still wanted her even if he was going to pretend that he didn’t.

But she knew him, knew that she couldn’t burst in wearing underwear and get on her knees for her to get what she want. No Aaron needed to be teased, to be shown what he could have but chose not to take. So she walks into the office wearing a shirt that shows just enough cleavage for him to notice, makes sure to lean over his desk when dropping off files with a look of innocence on her face when she catches him try and look anywhere but down her shirt.

She makes sure that she stands just a tiny bit too close in the crowded elevator, her ass just barely grazing the front of his slacks and she feels his breath against the back of her neck, slightly uneven as his fists balls up at his side.

And maybe, she makes sure to lick the foam of her cappuccino, or the glaze of a donut off her bottom lip and even the ketchup off her finger while keeping eye contact with him. He’s unable to look away each time, even when his eyes narrow at her or he tries to pretend he’s not staring at her. He tries to pretend that he’s unaffected by her, but she can see the way his pulse race, the slight flush up his neck.

“You need to stop.” He sounds almost pleading when she drops off files wearing a dress he had ripped from her body only ten months ago. She was going out with JJ and Penelope, had changed quickly and made sure to wear heels that were just a smidge too high to be practical, before turning in her work for the evening.

“Stop what?” She holds his heated stare with a smirk on her face.

“I don’t know what you’ve been trying to prove for the last few weeks.” He stands from behind his desk and she knows that it’s his way to try and impose some kind of authority over her, and it only makes her thighs clench with want.

“Then there’s no need for me to stop, is there?” She makes sure to sway her hips a little more than usual when she turns to walk out.

He’s going crazy, she thinks a few days later. They’re undercover, pretending to be a couple in a crowded bar and as he sits on a stool she stands between his legs. It’s practical, she can look one way and he the other, but any chance that the unsub would be there was slim, so she takes advantage.

“He’s not here.” She says lowly, her lips brushing his ear as she speaks. She can’t be too obvious, the rest of the team were able to hear her. But they can’t see them, so she casually leans into him, one of her hands grabbing the buckle of his jeans as her breasts press against his chest.

“All good here too.” His voice is strained and she grins into the crook of his neck, acting like she was whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“We’ll look around the building, see if he’s close by.” Reid’s voice sounds through their earpieces. “Prentiss can you tell if he’s in one of the booths?”

To be able to see that way Aaron needs to move his head, and she gently grasps his neck and pulls him forward. She cranes her neck and sees nothing of importance, but takes another moment to enjoy the way Aaron is nosing at her hairline, his hands moving to her waist automatically as he breathes her in.

“No, nothing.” She says, the words coming out breathier than she wants as her body throbs with arousal.

They end up catching the unsub outside the bar less than an hour later and during the hustle of everything she’s left alone with Aaron who’s all but glaring at her.

“My place when we get back.” He mutters finally and her eyebrow arches. He was finally giving in to her, and she could feel satisfaction pool in her belly.

“Yes, sir.”

She shows up at his apartment the following day and he’s looking at her like he wants to devour her whole.

“Is this a bad time?” She looks at him up and down, dressed in his running clothes.

“I was going out for a run.” He’s texting as he talks, before throwing the phone on the couch carelessly. “Didn’t think you’d be here until later.”

She barely registers that he’s moving until he’s grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss. It’s messy, his lips on hers domineering as he pries her lips open with his tongue and she gasps into him.

“You have been driving me crazy.” He hisses against her lips and she pushes him backwards until the back of his knees hit the couch. “You’re a menace.”

“Are you saying that you don’t want me? Don’t want this?” She grips his short hair and tugs and when he groans she takes advantage and kisses down his jaw, tastes the skin of his neck.

“I’ve always wanted you.” He breathes and she hums before sinking her teeth into his throat, earning her another low groan. “I should have known there was no fighting this.”

“You should have.” She agrees with a smirk and his hands fist her hair to pull her into another kiss. This one is more gentle, like he’s savoring the taste of her on his tongue and she falls into him easily. She pushes at his chest and when he sits back on the couch she’s quick to straddle him, never breaking their kiss.

“I missed you.” She gasps against his lips and his fingers twitch against her hip where he’s been pulling her closer to him.

“I missed you too.” For a few precious moments they stop and look at each other, she sees the sincerity on his face and she knows that this was a new beginning for them. This time it would last.

But everything they needed to talk about would have to wait, because she couldn’t imagine stopping what they were doing. She had needed him for so long her body was buzzing with pent up frustration, and judging by the way he was grabbing at her and the uncomfortable hardness inside his pants, he needed her just as bad.

With that thought in mind she easily rids herself of her shirt and bra and then helps him with his shirt. She catches him looking at her scars and she shakes her head.

“Later.” She tells him and he nods, but not before kissing her once, softly and carefully.

“Later.” He agrees and she gives him a small smile before standing up and quickly pushing her jeans down her legs and he licks his lips at the sight. She leaves her underwear on before kneeling between his legs on the floor, her hands reaching for the hemline of his shorts.

She gets them along with his boxers off with some help from him and as she looks at his naked body with a filthy look in her eye, he blushes.

“You’ve been taking your training seriously.” She comments lowly as she strokes the skin of his inner thighs and feels her clit pulse when his cock jerks against his stomach. He had always been large, strong and muscular, but he was more defined now, some of his softness gone and as his muscles tensed she found herself wanting to lick every inch of him.

“F-for the marathon.” He stutters as she kisses his inner thigh, hot, open-mouthed kisses that is driving him insane. “Stop teasing. You’ve done enough of that.”

At that she smirks but she still takes his cock in her hands and pumps it one, twice, three times as he groans above her. Her eyes stay on his when she swipes her tongue slowly over the tip of his cock, earning a shaky breath from him. She hums lowly at the taste of him, still so familiar to her. When his jaw clenches she licks the length of him, from bottom to tip and his hand fists the cushion.

“Jesus Em.” He grits out through clenched teeth and she clamps her thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure between them. “I thought I said no more teasing.”

She should have expected his thick fingers in her hair, fisting it hard enough to make her gasp and he takes advantage of her open mouth and pulls her forward. His hand loosens as she circles his head with her tongue and easily takes more of him in her mouth. Her eyes flitter up to his face when his head falls back and his jaw goes slack, so she takes more of him, takes him as far as she can before she chokes and he hisses at the way her throat contracts around him.

“Your mouth is so fucking good.” He praises as she starts to bop her head and her hand jerks the part of him she can’t fit down her throat. She twists her wrist at the same time she swirls her tongue and his entire body jerks from the motion. It’s hot and wet and so fucking good he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he tried fighting this.

She swallows around him and his hips push up in response, earning a gag from her as tears cloud her eyes. He liked her messy, she knew that, had never been so wrong when she thought he’d be boring in bed before they had fallen into bed. He proved her wrong in more ways than one, and when he looked down at her with eyes clouded over from arousal and he carefully wiped a tear from her cheek, she was reminded just how wrong she had been all those months ago.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He whispers and her cheeks tint pink at the praise. But Emily always gave as good as she got and any other words he might have wanted to say died on his tongue the second she sucked him harder as both her hands twisted around his shaft, creating pleasure that made his entire body tremble.

And that’s when his phone rang beside him.

Emily lifted her head enough to see the caller ID, the word Beth almost feeling taunting. The other woman still sent her spiraling into a storm of jealousy, the fact that she was calling her man making her furious but through all of it she got an idea.

“Ignore it.” He told her when he noticed the angered expression on her face.

“Answer it.” She started to slowly stroke his shaft, just enough to tease him but not enough to give him any real relief.

“What?” He gasped as his hips buckled into her touch, needing more.

“Answer it or I’ll stop.” She kept her eyes on him and took him back in her mouth, sucking him deep once before pulling away with a pop.

“Jesus Christ.” He hissed and her hands tightened around him, her wrist twisting back and forth as she jerked him. “This is insanity.” He whispered and she smiled, something menacing and close to wild in her eyes when he reached for the phone.

“Hurry up, before it’ll go to voicemail.” She let go of his shaft and pulled back, giving him a view of her mostly naked body and with a trembling hand he pressed the answer button.

“Hello?”

The moment he answered, Emily had him back in her mouth, sucking him with even more enthusiasm and his jaw clenched and his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing.

“Hi Aaron, I got your text about postponing our run today.” Beth sounded just as happy and carefree as always, oblivious to the strained tone in his voice.

“Yeah, something came up.” He just barely held back a groan when Emily let the undershaft of his cock drag along her tongue. “Rain check?”

“I was actually calling about something else.” Beth let out a nervous laugh and Emily rolled her eyes, because of course she’d be a giggler.

She tightened her lips around him and took him as deep as she could, bypassing her body’s urge to choke to get him fully sheathed down her throat and this time Aaron did groan, his eyes wide as he watched her in awe.

“Are you alright?” Beth asked on the line and he just barely choked out a response.

“Yeah, but this isn’t really a good time.” He bit his fist when she pulled off him, gasping for breath and saliva dripping down her bottom lip.

“Don’t mind me.” Emily smirked before standing up, she wiped her mouth and then pushed her panties down her legs. By the time she was straddling his hips, the other woman was still rambling on the other end. “Feel how soaked I am, just from sucking your cock.” She whispered against his other ear and he quickly did what she said, gasping into her neck at the slick heat he found there.

“… I’ve really been enjoying our time together, and I was going to ask you this today but since you cancelled…” Her voice trailed off but Aaron could barely listen anyways, his focus on Emily and the way she was aligning his cock with her entrance.

“It’s been fun.” He just barely has the mind to answer before Emily sunk down on him, taking his entire length in one go.

“Fuck I’ve missed your cock.” She whispered against his ear and Aaron was sure he was going crazy. The hand not holding the phone to his ear grabbed her hip in some vain attempt to control her movements, but there really was no use. Emily was already leaning back, one hand on his knee and the other between her legs and circling her clit as she started to lift her hips up and down. His eyes were trained on her body, from her puffy lips and flushed cheeks to her breasts, down to where they were connected, his cock shiny with her slick.

“It has been fun, and I mean it’s not every day you find man that’s handsome and fun, so I don’t want to blow this.” Beth giggles again and Emily moves a little faster on his lap, creating more friction.

“I’d like to see how good she is at blowing anything.” She mutters lowly, jealousy and want twisting in her belly. This isn’t normal, she realizes that, but some deep-seated need had been released, it was almost primal, the way she could see him struggling, the way she knew that all he wanted was to hang up because he wanted her. He didn’t wants Beth, he didn’t want anybody but her and it was clear in the way he was looking at her like she was a goddess, clear in the way his hands trembled with the need to touch her properly, clear in the way he chased her body with his own.

“T-thank you.” He stuttered, finding it best to say as little as possible. It was hard enough to find words, it took all his self-control to not hang up and bend Emily over right then and there. But he could see the wild look in her eye, could tell how much she got off on this. Her fingers were moving faster over her clit and he could feel her slick walls tightening around his shaft. In response he leaned forward and sucked one of her nipples between his lips, earning a low moan in return.

“You’re welcome.” He mumbled against her chest before moving to the other breasts. He could hear the smile in Beth’s voice and he almost felt bad for giving her hope. In all honesty he had found her pretty, but she had never been more than a distraction from Emily, she never would have been compared to the woman currently wringing pleasure from him as she moved her hips in ways he’d never experienced before.

“She thinks she can have you but you’re not hers, are you?” She pants and grips his hair to pull him back as she moves a little faster, enough for their bodies to make a slapping sound every time she drops her hips and he pushes up against her. Her orgasm is building, so close she could taste it but she held off, her fingers slowing slightly against her clit.

He shakes his head wordlessly, sweat rolling down his temple and his jaw clenching as the pressure in his stomach starts to build.

“So anyways, what I’m trying to ask, in a very long, roundabout way, is if you want to go to dinner with me?” Beth finally comes out and asks and Emily is leaning forward on his lap, her lips by his ear again.

“Tell me who you belong to.” She tells him and his hips buckle against hers in response.

“I’m yours.” He groans and Emily hums against his ear, satisfaction dripping from the sound.

“That’s right.” She slows her hips and grabs his phone from him, just barely catching the confused question on the other end.

“… I take that as a yes?”

Her eyes stay on his as she holds his phone to her ear, a quick shake of her head and her hips starting to grind on his lap enough to keep him still as he grabs her hips with both hands.

“No, that would be a no.” She tells Beth, her voice breathy and low as she does. “He’s taken and currently about to come-” She’s interrupted by Aaron grabbing the phone and ending the call before she can finish and she gives him a glare.

“You don’t have to be cruel. You’ve had your fun.” His voice is rough, finally being able to relax enough to make the sounds he’s been fighting to keep down. His hand is rough when he grabs her throat, putting just enough pressure around it to make her whimper and her hips buckle. “Now, get yourself off, let me fill that pretty pussy up. And then we’re going to the bedroom to do this again.”

She’s nodding before he’s even finished speaking, her body moving harder, her fingers digging into his chest as she does. Her body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her muscles tensing as she chases her release and her fingers move faster over her clit. She’s right at the edge, her vision blurring as she mewls his name. In response, his hand tightens just slightly around her neck and her eyes roll back in her head.

“H-harder.” She gasps and he grins before tightening his hold enough for her to go lightheaded. When he lets go the blood that rushes to her head makes her cry out as her orgasm hits her hard and fast. She trembles in his lap, hips buckling wildly as he switches from holding her throat to gripping her hips with both hands, pushing her back and forth on his cock to chase his own release.

“Fuck, Aaron!” She grunts, oversensitive and sated as he uses her body to get off, a look of primal want on his face. “Come in me, let me feel it.” She whimpers and he growls, a deep, rumbling sound that rips from his throat as he tenses and hips jerk.

He comes with her still twitching on his lap, his teeth sinking into her throat as he does. The sound that leaves him is barely muffled against her skin, her hiss just loud enough for him to hear as white hot pleasure rips through his entire body as he releases as deep inside of her as he can.

Emily knows that her skin will bruise, that the mark he bit into her skin would be impossible to hide but she found that she didn’t care. Before, he had always been careful, had always left his marks where she could hide them, but not this time because this time they wouldn’t have to hide.

She sighs as she lets him come down, her fingers massaging his scalp as his lips leave long, lazy kisses along her shoulder. By the time the sweat is drying on their skin and she feels like she can stand again Aaron is laughing, a breathless and deep laugh that she had missed.

“What?” She smiles down at him and he cups her cheek in one hand.

“You’re crazy.” He continues to laugh when her eyebrow narrows. “And I don’t mean that as an insult because I think I might be crazy too.”

“I’m not crazy.” She pushes some hair that’s fallen over his forehead back. “I just know what I want.”

“But you wanting another woman on the phone while fucking me, that is kind of crazy.” He teases and she grins winningly.

“No, that’s me taking what’s mine.”

At that he laughs again, even louder and she feels her body warm from the sound. They didn’t have everything figured out yet, not even close to it. But she knew that they’d get there. This was the beginning for them, for real this time.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x emily

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defjux · 2 months ago

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Here are 120 of my favorite hip hop albums, with only the first two rows being in order. This was tough for me, I tried to be as fair as possible and include the albums I grew up listening to that impacted me the most while also including the more recent albums that I listen to all the time. I’ll post the list below, and a version of the charts with the titles included. Let me know what you think, are any of your favorites here? If you've got a list of your own favorites, i'd love to see it. Peace. Chart with album titles included 1. De La Soul - Buhloone Mindstate 2. Cannibal Ox - The Cold Vein 3. Aesop Rock - The Impossible Kid 4. Billy Woods & Blockhead - Dour Candy 5. Company Flow - Funcrusher Plus 6. Madvillain - Madvillainy 7. OutKast - ATLiens 8. Mos Def - Black On Both Sides 9. El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead 10. Edan - Beauty & The Beat 11. Armand Hammer - Paraffin 12. Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth - The Main Ingredient 13. GZA - Liquid Swords 14. The Roots - Illadelph Halflife 15. Ghostface Killah - Supreme Clientele 16. Hermit and the Recluse - Orpheus vs. the Sirens 17. Organized Konfusion - Stress: The Extinction Agenda 18. A Tribe Called Quest - Midnight Marauders 19. Wu-Tang Clan - Enter the Wu-Tang ( 36 Chambers) 20. Camp Lo - Uptown Saturday Night 21. Redman - Dare Iz A Darkside 22. The Pharcyde - Labcabincalifornia 23. Aceyalone - A Book of Human Language 24. Black Moon - Enta Da Stage

25. zeroh - awfulalterations 26. Dark Time Sunshine - ANX 27. Jam Baxter - …So We Ate Them Whole 28. Freestyle Fellowship - Innercity Griots 29. Siah & Yeshua dapoED - The Visualz Anthology 30. Black Star - Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star 31. MF DOOM - Operation: Doomsday 32. Little Brother - The Minstrel Show 33. Digable Planets - Blowout Comb 34. De La Soul - Stakes Is High 35. Juggaknots - Re:Release 36. Cavalier - Private Stock 37. Dr. Yen Lo - Days With Dr. Yen Lo 38. Mach-Hommy - DUMPMEISTER 39. Cult Favorite - FOR MADMEN ONLY 40. Aesop Rock - Skelethon 41. Earl Sweatshirt - some rap songs 42. Boldy James & Sterling Toles - Manger on McNichols 43. Open Mike Eagle & Paul White - Hella Personal Film Festival 44. Common Sense - Resurrection 45. Avantdale Bowling Club - Avantdale Bowling Club 46. CunninLynguists - A Piece of Strange 47. Armand Hammer - Shrines 48. The Roots - Things Fall Apart 49. Deltron 3030 - Deltron 3030 50. The Doppelgangaz - Lone Sharks 51. Gang Starr - Moment Of Truth 52. Serengeti & Kenny Segal - Ajai 53. Heltah Skeltah - Nocturnal 54. E L U C I D - REVELATOR 55. Raekwon - Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… 56. Billy Woods & Kenny Segal - Hiding Places 57. Jeru the Damaja - The Sun Rises In The East 58. Smif-n-Wessun - Dah Shinin 59. Big K.R.I.T. - 4eva Is a Mighty Long Time 60. O.C. - Word…Life 61 .Mach-Hommy - The G.A.T. (The Gospel According To…) 62. EPMD - Strictly Business 63. Ultramagnetic MC's - Critical Beatdown 64. Mobb Deep - The Infamous 65. Cities Aviv - MAN PLAYS THE HORN 66. Navy Blue - Gift of Gabriel: Rain’s Reign! 67. Milo - who told you to think??!!?!?!?! 68. Oddisee - The Good Fight 69. Eric B. & Rakim - Follow the Leader 70. Mr Key & Greenwood Sharps - Yesterday's Futures 71. Blackalicious - Nia 72. Quasimoto - The Further Adventures of Lord Quas 73. Shabazz Palaces - Black Up 74. Lord Finesse - The Awakening 75. Prince Paul - A Prince Among Thieves 76. Roc Marciano - Reloaded 77. Masta Ace - A Long Hot Summer 78. Sonic Sum - The Sanity Annex 79. Quelle Chris - Guns 80. Nas - Illmatic 81. Binary Star - Masters of the Universe 82. Souls of Mischief - 93 'til Infinity 83. Slum Village - Fan-Tas-Tic, Vol. 2 84. Mavi - let the sun talk 85. Public Enemy - It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back 86. Gravediggaz - 6 Feet Deep 87. Illogic - Celestial Clockwork 88. Blu & Exile - Below the Heavens 89. Dr. Octagon - Dr. Octagonecologyst 90. Mike - Disco! 91. Nickelus F & Ohbliv - Yellow Gold 3 92. lojii - due rent 93. The Koreatown Oddity - Little Dominiques Nosebleed 94. Dälek - From Filthy Tongue of Gods and Griots 95. Mos Def - The Ecstatic 96. Lords of the Underground - Here Come the Lords 97. Cities Aviv - Working Title For The Album Secret Waters 98 .Onry Ozzborn - c v p ii d 99. Fly Anakin & Big Kahuna OG - Holly Water 100. Black Milk - No Poison No Paradise 101. Busdriver - Thumbs 102. Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp a Butterfly 103. Artifacts - Between a Rock and a Hard Place 104. Mike Ladd - Welcome to the Afterfuture 105. Defcee & knowsthetime - Lacuna 106. R.A.P. Ferreira - purple moonlight pages 107. Scarface - The Diary 108. Mad Moon - MAD SPACE 109. Skipp Coon - Miles Garvey 110. Mattic & Madwreck - Ill Scholars 111. Mood - Doom 112. NoName - Room 25 113. Deca - The Ocean 114. Darc Mind - Symptomatic of a Greater Ill 115. Pete Rock & Ini - Center of Attention 116. Count Bass D - Dwight Spitz 117. Showbiz & A.G. - Goodfellas 118. Y Society - Travel At Your Own Pace 119. Theravada - Xenophon 120. Versis - Illcandescent

#music recommendations #favorite albums #top hip hop albums #de la soul #MF DOOM #aesop rock #mach-hommy #cannibal ox #edan #el-p #the roots #armand hammer #billy woods #ghostface killah #the pharcyde #mos def #organized konfusion #a tribe called quest #camp lo

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arctrooper69 · 11 months ago

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As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 18:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Angsty feelings, fluff. Hurt/comfort.

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Hunter watched through his visor, HUD illuminated with your steadying vitals. He watched as your chest rose and fell, spasming every so often, heart rate spiking as your face twitched in pain. It nearly broke him.

It was so easy to imagine a future with you - somewhere safe, away from the Empire, away from mercenaries and shady jobs that paid little to nothing. Away from the possibility of a mission that you might not make it back from.

Not just for me, he realized. You’d make a great mother to Omega and his brothers were proud to stand at your side. We all deserve some rest.

Hunter chuckled to himself. When did I get so soft?

He wondered when it had grown so difficult to erect the walls that separated the man within from the soldier trained to perfection. They were built with such a profound sense of professional discipline that it had felt uncomfortable - even painful - when the war came to its inevitable end. All those thoughts and emotions had come crashing together as if the floodgates had opened and it had taken all he had to hold his world together. None of them knew what to do or how to feel, so they threw all they had into surviving a world that was no longer meant for them.

His head told him one thing - keep moving lest the weight of all that is at stake find you asleep and strike - but Hunter was tired of simply surviving. Omega had changed him. You had changed him. It was hard to see the galaxy through a soldier’s perspective now that he had something to lose.

Your fingers wrapped around his hand as it lay beside you, drawing him from his thoughts.

“Hey,” his modulated voice sounded relieved as you blinked groggily awake. He brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Hey,” you replied softly, licking dried lips.

“Here,” he said, gently sitting on the ground behind you. “This’ll help you breathe a little easier.”

Putting two strong hands under your arms, he slowly slid you upwards into a reclining position, careful not to jostle you too much as he rested your back against his chest to relieve the squeezing pressure of gravity.

The strained and tightened muscles took several seconds to quiet their panic at the motion, but soon you felt yourself relax into his chest.

“There you go, nice and easy.” He pulled a hydro pack from his belt and guided your hands as they lifted it to your mouth.

The liquid flowed cool and refreshing across parched lips. It could’ve been poison and you wouldn’t have cared, it was the best water you’d had in what felt like an eternity.

He pulled it away as you grabbed at it with a whine.

“Not too fast,” he chuckled, “You’ll make yourself sick.”

You made a face and he shook his head. If you could see his eyes, you knew they’d be amused.

“How’s the pain?” he asked more seriously.

You stared up at the sky above, “Could be worse, I guess.” It was the truth, but you felt guilty for leaving out how much your ribs throbbed still with every breath or how your leg ached terribly and you couldn’t look at it without wanting to throw up. It was better though, no longer so sharp and overwhelming. The painkillers had done their job though they seemed to be wearing off. You bit your lip, inhaling as best as you could. You could feel him watching.

“You sure? I can give you a little more painkiller, it’s been awhile.”

You let out a breath, “Okay.”

He reached to the side, pulling another syringe from the pocket of the larger medkit before pulling aside the loose fabric and jabbing it into the thigh of your good leg.

Though it was barely a pinch, the muscle tightened and cramped as though it were spring loaded and ready for a fight. It held that way a few long seconds before relaxing once more.

He smells good. Even fully kitted and covered in dust, that familiar scent of an earthy plasma wafted over you, surrounding you with the calm and caring comfort you craved so desperately.

Inhaling evenly with eyes closed, you found your head resting backwards, nestling in the gap between his helmet and chestplate. He rubbed your leg, hand firm and warm beneath his glove.

“Good girl. Relax, you’re okay.”

Good girl. The shame from before rose headily once again - hot and cold all at once.

“Hunter?” you began.

He grunted in response.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted and for running away. I just want you to know I didn’t mean all those things I said.”

He breathed in, letting it out slowly. “No, I'm sorry.” He paused, moving his hand to brush the hair from your face. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have done a lot of things.”

“We both yelled.” You said softly, reaching to the side where his other hand rested on your thigh.

He squeezed your fingers. “Yeah,” he chuckled gently. He grew still as you drew his hand into yours, weaving your fingers between his own.

“I don't hate you, Hunter.”

He shook his head. “I know you don't.” He was silent again. “All those things you heard that day… they weren't true.”

The claw around your chest grew tighter. “W-what…?” It was all you could choke out over a sudden spasming of lungs sending hot bolts of pain searing through your chest, before calming again to a distant agony. He squeezed your hand, seeming to understand the unasked question.

“Tech called you an asset. A member of our team. The same way he'd describe Omega - his sister. But I….” He paused, looking down, helmet still on but easy to read. Uncertain. Afraid. He took a breath. “But I… I said you were more than that to me. I… I think I'm in love with you.”

I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you.

…In love with you.

His words played over and over again in your head, tolling like a bell. It didn’t feel like anything at all. Emotional shock, much like its physical counterpart, protected the senses, lulling you into a false sense of denial before hitting you full force and all at once. It almost seemed to good to be true.

Hunter watched your careful silence, a shameful panic beginning to take hold, as you gave no response.

“Don’t…” your voice was quiet, but Hunter knew it well enough to know the flood it held back. “Don’t say that. Don’t say what you don’t mean, Hunter. Please don’t just tell me what I want to hear. It isn’t fair.”

You were tired of crying, tired of that raw burning skin around your eyes, tired of the emotions that built you up only to drag you back down again and again.

“But… I do mean it.” He replied, “I mean every part of it. I love you, cyar’ika. I… I thought I lost you when you left and it was like I couldn’t breathe.”

You sniffed, ignoring how the shuddering breaths sent a growing ache through your chest. “But…. I saw….”

Hunter took a breath. “You saw the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

“But…”

He cut you off, “Tara came to me hoping to find a release - some kind of comfort. I couldn’t give that to her and I told her so. I don’t love her. I love you and will only ever love you!”

A whirlwind of emotion combined with already slowing thoughts left you confused, unsure, and at the mercy of that ever present doubting voice.

He can’t love you. You’ve screwed up so many times. You are unworthy.

“You… I can’t…” you began to protest.

“No.” Hunter spoke firmly as if to command that inner voice to submission. “Why do you think you don’t deserve this?”

He shot a second flare into the sky. A flash of light illuminated the darkened, cloudy sky, signaling that the Marauder had acknowledged and would make its way to extract. Hunter turned his head back to you.

“Everyone on that ship up there wants you to stay. You are a part of our team, our family.” He paused, “You are a part of me and I don’t think I can live without you.”

The tears came hot and quick now, dripping down his shoulder plate where they fell from your eyes.

“Hunter, I….”

The ground began to quake and rumble once more. Rocks shook with a violence and roared as if the splitting ground caused them great pain. And for the second time that day, you found yourself falling.

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If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

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sosa2imagines · 10 months ago

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You, me and Vegas! Part 1

Warnings- Fluff, drunk idiots.

The city of Las Vegas, Nevada is known for its vibrant strip of casinos, hotels, and entertainment venues.

The bright lights, glitzy resorts, and non-stop excitement create an atmosphere that draws people from all walks of life. Whether it's the high-stakes gambling, world-class shows, or luxury dining, Vegas promises an experience unlike any other city.

Bucky Barnes, a man in his mid-thirties, sat at the bar, his steel-blue eyes reflecting the dim lighting of the room. He swirled the glass in front of him, taking a long, slow sip.

His thoughts were heavy, as the recent job loss hung over him like a dark cloud. He was struggling to keep up with the secret and the pressure was mounting.

Bucky's parents, George and Winnifred Barnes, were prominent figures in society, known for their wealth and social standing.

They had always had a clear vision for Bucky's life, meticulously planning out every detail, from his education to his future career. The pressure to meet their expectations had been a constant presence in Bucky's life, casting a long shadow over his own desires and ambitions.

Bucky took another sip of his drink, feeling the liquid burn as it went down his throat. He stared into the amber depths of his glass, his mind racing.

Losing his architect job had left him feeling lost and confused. The stability he had grown accustomed to was suddenly gone, leaving him grasping for purchase in the chaos. He didn't know what the future held, and the uncertainty gnawed at him relentlessly.

Peach, a woman in her early thirties, sat at a table across the room, her sparkling eyes full of mischievousness.

She was a writer, a free spirit who reveled in life's unexpected turns. Clutching a colorful cocktail in her hand, she observed Bucky over the rim, intrigued by his brooding demeanor.

Despite her own financial struggles, Peach harbored an unshakeable optimism. She was determined to push her worries aside and revel in the moment. Tonight, she was in the mood to enjoy the scenery and escape the constraints of everyday life. And something about Bucky's brooding presence caught her attention.

As Peach made her way to the bar, she couldn't help but notice Bucky, his furrowed brow and taut frame drawing her attention.

She took a seat beside him, her laughter bubbling over as she smiled warmly. “Hey there, tough guy…” she teased, her eyes glimmering in the dim light.

Bucky looked up as Peach took the seat beside him, surprised by her easy-going smile. He gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes roaming over her infectious grin. “What's so funny?” he asked, his rough tone softened by curiosity and the buzz of alcohol.

Peach shrugged, still smiling. “You…” she replied bluntly. “You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Mind if I lift some of that burden?”

Bucky huffed, his expression a mix of bemusement and irritation. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” he asked, taking a swig of his drink.

“Well, first, I think we need to get you out of this funk. You can't solve anything by brooding in a dark bar...” she chided gently, flagging down the bartender.

Turning to Bucky, she added, “And then we might just make a plan. What's got you so weighed down, anyway? I’m Y/n by the way, but everyone calls me ‘Peach.’”

Bucky's shoulders sagged, the weight of his worries pressing down on him. He stared into his empty glass, his eyes cloudy with frustration. “I’m James, everyone calls me Bucky and I lost my job.” he confessed, the words heavy on his tongue.

Peach's grin faded, her expression softening into sympathy. “I'm sorry,” she said sincerely. “That must be really tough.”

Bucky nodded, rubbing his face with a weary hand. “It's more than tough. It's... crushing. I thought I had it all figured out, a steady job, a plan. And now... I've got nothing.”

Peach reached a slender hand to rest reassuringly on Bucky's shoulder. “It might feel like that right now, but there's always a way out.” Her voice was gentle yet firm.

Bucky looked up, meeting her earnest gaze. There was a glimmer of hope in those blue depths; a hope that he didn't want to extinguish. “You make it sound so simple.”

Peach laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Loosen up, Bucky! A little too serious for a weeknight, don't you think?”

Bucky glanced at the time, the alcohol making the numbers blurry. He sighed, pushing himself off the stool. “It's getting late.” he mumbled.

“Ah, come on! Don't leave yet...” Peach protested, a hint of disappointment in her tone. “The night's just getting started.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, the alcohol making it difficult to focus. “I... I really should go.” he said, his voice rough.

Peach chuckled, her words slightly slurring as the alcohol took its toll. “Why are you such a tight ass?” she teased, leaning a little closer to Bucky. “You're so tense, so uptight. You need to loosen up.”

Bucky bristled at the accusation, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I am not a tight ass!” he protested, the denial coming out a bit louder than he intended.

Peach smiled slyly as she leaned in, her breath hot against Bucky's ear. “Prove it...” she whispered, a challenge in her voice.

Bucky swallowed, his heart thudding a little faster. Her proximity was intoxicating. He took a deep breath, determined to prove her wrong.

Bucky, feeling a sudden rush of determination, signaled the bartender. “Two more shots!” he barked, his voice rough with drunken determination.

Turning to face Peach, he set the shot glasses on the bar between them. “I'm not a tight ass!” he said firmly, meeting her gaze.

Peach smirked, amused by his sudden display. “You're on...” she retorted, raising her shot glass in a mock toast.

They clinked glasses and downed the shots in one swift gulp. The liquid burned as it went down, fuel for the budding rivalry between the two. Bucky slammed his glass down onto the bar, his eyes locked on Peach's.

“Another!” he declared, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Peach raised an eyebrow, impressed by his defiance. “You're braver than I thought.” she teased, flagging down the bartender for another round.

The second shot burned just as much as the first, but with it came a wave of liquid courage. Bucky leaned slightly towards Peach, his inhibitions fading with each shot.

“See? I told you. I'm not uptight...” he said, a cocky grin playing at the corner of his lips.

Peach chuckled, enjoying the change in Bucky's demeanor. “One more to settle this.” she proposed, signaling for yet another shot.

They downed the third shot, the alcohol fueling their banter. Bucky felt the alcohol coursing through him, emboldening his words and movements. He leaned a little closer, meeting Peach's challenging gaze.

“Satisfied yet?” he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.

Peach leaned back, her smirk widening. “Almost...” she confessed, the alcohol making her bolder than usual.

“Almost, huh?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. His heart was pounding now, fueled by the alcohol, the challenge, and the unexpected chemistry between them.

And so, fueled by liquid courage, Bucky ordered another round.

As the night wore on and the alcohol fueled their conversation, Bucky and Peach found themselves sharing more than just drinks. They opened up about their dreams, their disappointments, and the sheer absurdities of life.

The buzz of alcohol in their veins loosened their tongues, and they laughed loudly, feeling lighter than they had in weeks. The weight of their worries faded, replaced by the warm, almost giddy sensation of carefree banter.

With the fresh night air hitting their faces, the laughter doubled. They stumbled out of the bar, the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas a dizzying backdrop to their tipsy giddiness.

The cool night air was a stark contrast to the heated banter and alcohol, but it didn't dull their good mood. They leaned on each other for support, their steps unsteady.

As they weaved through the crowds, Peach grabbed Bucky’s hand. “Let’s do something wild!!!!” she declared. “Something that defies all reason.”

Bucky’s heart raced. “Like what?”

Peach pointed to the 24/7 wedding chapel ahead. “Let’s get married.”

Bucky's eyes widened as he followed her pointed finger towards the wedding chapel. The bright neon sign glowed, advertising the one-stop shop for quickie weddings. He stared at Peach, his mind spinning with the implications of her words.

“You can't be seriousss,” he managed to say, the alcohol making his words slur together.

Peach pulled him towards the chapel, her grip on his hand unwavering. “Oh, I'm dead seriousss…” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of a drunken bravado.

The chapel was small and cozy, but somehow it added to the charm of the moment. The Elvis impersonator, with his sparkly jumpsuit and greasy pompadour, looked on serenely as Bucky and Peach stumbled towards the altar.

They didn't have rings, witnesses, or even proper clothing, but none of that mattered.

The words of the vows were slurred, and they couldn't keep straight faces, but they were serious in their own way. As they pledged their love, or whatever passed for it in their current drunken state.

Bucky and Peach had never felt more alive.

And as they kissed, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Elvis impersonator declared, his voice booming with exaggerated gravitas.

Bucky and Peach looked at each other, eyes wide and filled with laughter and incredulity.

They had done it—they had drunkenly gotten married in a Las Vegas chapel with an Elvis impersonator officiating. It was insane, ridiculous, and the most spontaneous thing either of them had ever done.

Together, they stumbled back into the night, as husband and wife, weaving their own story amid the glittering lights of Las Vegas.

Part 2-

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

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#sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #happy birthday seb #happy birthday sebastian stan #new series

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reveryfics · 25 days ago

Note

; ‘frenchie’ peyrol x “failsafe” reader .

; the same reader from your homelander fic, preferably. – stoic ‘wall’ of a person, and, frenchie.

; how they meet / what scenario is entirely up for interpretation. once again, casually overpowered reader.

thanks.

Whiskey Kisses

Serge "Frenchie" Peyrol x Male Reader summary: What you thought would be a standard visit with Kimiko at the local bar, turned into an introduction to her friend.

A/N: I'm not very well versed with Frenchie, so I apologize in advance. Reader is friends with Kimiko, because she is baby.

TW: How you met - Alcohol - Cigarette smoking

The air in the dimly lit bar clung thick and heavy, a cloying blend of stale beer, the saccharine tang of cheap perfume, and an undercurrent of something akin to desperation. The relentless thump-thump-thump of a raucous country anthem vibrated through the worn floorboards, a jarring soundtrack to the already elevated cacophony of drunken shouts and booming laughter. Waitresses, their expressions carefully neutral masks stretched taut over weary features, navigated the dense throng of bodies clustered around the two scarred pool tables dominating the room's center. Each balanced precarious towers of sweating mugs and half-empty shot glasses, their practiced movements a testament to countless hours spent traversing such chaotic terrain.

Around the emerald felt of the pool tables, a different sort of tension coiled beneath the surface din. Small knots of men, their ties loosened to indecent angles and the fronts of their shirts damp with spilled drinks, leaned in close, their gazes laser-focused on the rolling ivory spheres. Fingers jabbed at the air, voices rose and fell in hushed, fervent whispers as bets were laid – crumpled dollar bills exchanged hands with a silent rustle, promises of future, likely forgotten, favors murmured into eager ears. The sharp clack of colliding balls punctuated the music, each strike followed by a collective intake of breath, a guttural groan of disappointment, or a triumphant, unrestrained yell.

One table was nearing its dramatic conclusion. A burly man, a thick handlebar mustache bracketing a face flushed a deep crimson, meticulously lined up a particularly challenging shot, his brow furrowed in a deep V of concentration. Across from him, a younger man, wiry and radiating a cocky self-assurance, leaned casually against his cue stick, a small but growing stack of bills already clutched in his hand. The small crowd surrounding them was a study in rapt anticipation – some with hopeful gazes fixed on the burly contender, others with a predatory gleam in their eyes as they watched the younger player’s confident demeanor. The waitress, expertly maneuvering past a swaying figure clutching a half-empty pitcher of beer, paused for a fleeting moment, her gaze flicking between the two players before she continued her circuit, another round of liquid courage to deliver to the thirsty bettors. The air itself seemed to crackle with the unspoken stakes, the small fortunes hanging in the balance of that single white ball’s trajectory.

You stood beside the other pool table, the rough grit of chalk clinging to your fingertips as you meticulously coated the tip of your cue, waiting for the current game to conclude and the table to be freed. A waitress, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, placed your drink – a tumbler of amber liquid – on the small table beside you, her eyes lingering on yours for a beat longer than strictly professional. You offered a curt, almost gruff, “Thanks,” your voice low and even, before she moved on to her next delivery.

You bent over the worn green felt, your gaze intensely focused on the neat triangle of fifteen balls racked before you. With a smooth, practiced motion, you drew back your cue and then sent the white ball hurtling forward. The satisfying crack echoed through the immediate vicinity as the cue ball slammed into the apex of the triangle, scattering the colored spheres. Two solid balls careened towards the side pockets, disappearing with a soft thunk. A few appreciative murmurs rippled through the small crowd that had begun to gather, their attention drawn by the decisive break.

As you straightened up, your eyes already assessing the remaining layout for your next shot, you registered the subtle shift in the atmosphere. The murmurs around you intensified, a low hum of anticipation directed at your next move and the confident stance of the man you were now playing against. You ignored them, your focus solely on the angles and potential pathways across the table. Just as you bent down to line up your shot, a familiar warmth pressed against your back.

Yhe familiar face of Kimiko, her dark eyes wide and sparkling, peered at you from around your side. A wide, unrestrained smile stretched across her face as she waved enthusiastically. “I brought a friend. Meet us at our usual table.” She signed quickly with her free hand, her touch light but firm as she patted your shoulder before melting back into the boisterous crowd.

The usual table. Tucked away in the dimly lit corner of the bar, shrouded in a perpetual semi-darkness that suited your mood for so long. It was there, several years ago now, that Kimiko had first found you. You’d been a raw nerve ending wrapped in a barely contained rage, drowning yourself in the bar’s cheapest whiskey, the acrid taste a small comfort in the overwhelming bitterness that had become your constant companion. Everyone else in this place, in every place, gave you a wide berth, sensing the volatile energy that radiated off you. But not Kimiko.

She had simply slid into the opposite seat, her presence a quiet but undeniable force, completely unfazed by your obvious desire to be left alone. Kimiko, with her unwavering gaze and her uncanny ability to see past the hardened exterior you’d cultivated, was probably the first person who hadn’t been instinctively scared of you. And somehow, inexplicably, you had found yourself telling her. The words, long suppressed and festering, had finally found an outlet in her silent, attentive presence. You’d told her about Vought, about the monstrous power they had created, and about your own terrifying role as their supposed failsafe against Homelander, a weapon they hoped they’d never need to unleash.

It was through Kimiko that you had met Hughie and Billy. She had introduced you to their desperate, ragtag group, explaining their impossible mission. You had agreed to help them, not out of any sense of altruism or justice, but for a far more primal and satisfying reason: to spit in Vought’s face for every twisted thing they had done, for the life they had stolen from you.

You shoved the crumpled bills you’d won into the pocket of your worn leather jacket, the rough texture of the paper a small, tangible satisfaction. You navigated your way through the press of drunken patrons, offering curt nods or simply brushing past those who stumbled into your path, your focus fixed on the dimly lit corner. You spotted Kimiko immediately, her eyes catching yours across the room, a warm smile blooming on her face. You had instinctively expected to see Hughie slumped in his usual chair across from her, nursing a beer and looking perpetually worried. Instead, a stranger sat in his place.

You slid into the booth beside Kimiko, offering a rare and fleeting smile, a brief upturning of your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes, before turning your attention to the other man. The two of you regarded each other for a moment, a silent assessment passing between you, before you extended your hand. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it, his grip surprisingly firm. “Serge,” he said, his voice carrying a faint, intriguing accent, “but everyone calls me Frenchie.” You noticed the way Kimiko was looking at you, her dark eyes filled with a hopeful anticipation, as if she were silently pleading with you to drop your typical stoic wall, at least for someone other than her.

Frenchie’s eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint as he leaned back against the worn vinyl of the booth. “Kimiko here,” he began, gesturing towards her with a playful nod, “she mentioned you were… a supe,” he drawled the last word with a theatrical flourish. He paused, a wry smile playing on his lips. “What she failed to mention is that you are considerably better looking than most supes I have had the displeasure of encountering.”

You instinctively rubbed the light stubble that shadowed your jawline, a small, involuntary flush warming your cheeks. A shy, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You cleared your throat, the sound a low rumble in your chest. “Well, I’m flattered,” you murmured, your gaze flicking towards Kimiko. “And it’s about damn time she introduced me to her more… handsome friends.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened, a playful glint in them. She signed rapidly, her hands a blur of motion. “Drinks! I need drinks!” Before you could fully process what she was signing, she was scrambling over your lap, a surprisingly agile movement, and out of the booth, disappearing back into the crowded bar.

Frenchie cleared his throat, the sound drawing your attention back to him. “So,” he began, his gaze direct and surprisingly intense, “why the hell are you helping The Boys? Instead of, you know, being Vought’s golden boy… or attack dog, or whatever delightful role they had planned for you?”

You shrugged, leaning back against the worn booth, the cheap vinyl creaking softly beneath your weight. “Don't agree with them,” you stated simply, your voice flat. “And I sure as hell don't agree with Homelander.” A flicker of something dark crossed your features. “Only plus side is that they are too weak to actually stop me.”

Frenchie leaned back as well, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze thoughtful as he listened. He shrugged after a moment, a hint of a cynical smile on his lips. “They have it coming.”

Kimiko reappeared, a tray laden with an assortment of mismatched glasses and a bottle of something that looked suspiciously like cheap whiskey. She squeezed back into the booth beside you, her hip bumping yours in a familiar, comfortable way. She offered you a small shot glass filled with the amber liquid. You took it, your fingers brushing hers. The three of you raised your glasses in a silent toast before knocking back the fiery liquid. You grimaced slightly at the harsh taste but poured yourself another shot, the burn in your throat a welcome distraction. You watched as Kimiko signed rapidly, her eyes flitting between you and Frenchie, a wide, pleased smile on her face. “Glad you two are getting along.” The three of you fell into a comfortable, easy conversation, the cheap drinks surprisingly effective at loosening tongues and easing tensions, no matter how rough they tasted.

Stepping out of the bar into the cool night air felt like emerging from a dense fog. Your head swam slightly, a dull throb behind your eyes a testament to the amount of alcohol you’d consumed. You pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of your worn coat and patted your pants and then your coat again, searching for your lighter.

“Here,” a slightly slurred voice mumbled from beside you. You turned to see Frenchie standing there, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and a silver lighter held out towards you. “Thanks,” you murmured, taking the lighter and igniting your own cigarette. You handed the lighter back, your fingers briefly brushing his.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the cool night air a welcome balm to your throbbing head. Frenchie subconsciously shifted closer, leaning against the brick wall next to you, exhaling a plume of smoke into the night. “You know I meant what I said, yeah?” he hummed, his gaze fixed on the streetlights flickering in the distance.

You turned your head towards him, exhaling a stream of smoke from the corner of your mouth. “You said a lot tonight, Frenchie,” you chuckled softly, the alcohol making your voice slightly husky. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I quite enjoy hearing you talk.” Your words were slightly slurred, but so were his.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound. “Well,” he said, turning his head to look at you, his eyes dark and intent, “I find you rather… good looking.”

Without thinking, propelled by a sudden, impulsive urge, you moved to stand directly in front of him, effectively caging him against the rough brick wall despite being slightly shorter. You took a long drag from your cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs as you leaned in close, your gaze locking on his lips. Then, you exhaled, slowly blowing the smoke directly into his mouth. Wisps of smoke escaped from the corners of his lips as he tilted his head and kissed you back.

The kiss was sloppy, fueled by alcohol and a sudden, undeniable attraction. Your tongue pushed past his slightly parted lips, the combined taste of cheap whiskey and cigarette smoke filling your mouth. It was intoxicating, the way Frenchie’s hands instinctively gripped your waist, pulling you closer, the way his skin felt warm and slightly rough under your touch as you cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss.

Your mouths moved against each other with a desperate urgency, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. Frenchie’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his body. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own chest. Your hands slid from his cheeks to tangle in the short, dark curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer still. The world outside the small, smoky bubble you had created faded away, the sounds of the street and the distant bar music becoming a muted background hum. You savored the taste of him, the feel of his lips on yours, the unexpected heat that flared between you. It was a raw, untamed kiss, a silent acknowledgment of a connection that had sparked unexpectedly in the dimly lit corner of a dive bar.

You pulled away, your chest heaving as you gasped for breath. Frenchie looked at you, his eyes slightly wide and dazed as you stepped back, breaking his hold. A genuine smile bloomed on your face, a rare and unguarded expression that didn’t fade, not even when you turned to see Kimiko standing a few feet away, her dark eyes wide as she stared at the two of you.

You reached out and patted Frenchie’s chest, a small, almost affectionate gesture, before turning towards Kimiko. “See you two later,” you said, your voice still slightly rough. You turned and started walking down the sidewalk, pulling deeply on your cigarette before flicking it onto the pavement, the glowing ember arcing briefly in the night air.

Frenchie stood there, his mouth slightly agape, stammering and pointing a finger in your direction as you walked away. “I like this guy,” he mumbled to the empty air, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

#frenchie peyrol #serge peyrol #frenchie x male reader #frenchie the boys #dc the boys #dc x male reader #dc fanfic #mlm #fanfic #fanfiction #x male reader #xmalereader #requested #the boys

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gav-san · 2 years ago

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A Vintage Bouquet | 1/5 | Mihawk x reader

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk / Fem Reader

Length: 1/5 Chapters

Summary: Trapped in a monastery and threatened with an impending marriage, you'll strike any deal with a Pirate to escape what your father has in store for you.

“What a treat, for a great warlord of the sea to come to our island.”

Mihawk didn’t remove his feet from the table, barely even bothering to blink at the approach of the voice. Its owner, Rear-Admiral Jacobson, was the insipid leader of the Marine Outpost here, a dull man fitting of the dull backwater.

“It’s truly an honor to host you.” The marine said, taking out a chair to join him, much to his irritation.

“Charmed,” Mihawk replied dryly, barely acknowledging the large man in the marine uniform. “I’m sure.”

The rear admiral laughed, taking a seat on the bar left of the famed swordsman. He didn’t sit too close, clearly aware he was unwelcome, but not scared off

“I don’t mean to overstep, Hawk Eyes, but I’m shocked to see you here. The West Blue has been very quiet on the pirate front, and less so on any budding warriors. Illa de Palma is paradise for us here.”

Mihawk tilted his head.

He could outright refuse to chat with Jacobson, but it would likely be detrimental. Mihawk was no fan of bright sunlight and the thick humidity on Palma but he did find their wine to be pasable. Insulting the owner of the best vineyard on the island wasn’t going to get him his shipment, or any future ones on any island, knowing the way the wine-masters held grudges.

With a sigh, knowing he wasn’t getting off without revealing a little info, he acquiesced.

“It isn’t nearly that complicated. I was headed this way and was followed. Since there or no decent vineyards between here and the Grand Line, I thought I may find something interesting.” The swordsman said, raising a glass of dark liquid, and swishing it. “I have yet to decide if it was worth the diversion.”

The rear-admiral Jacobson perked a brow.

“I’d say so, but since it’s my wine, I have a stake in your opinion.”

Mihawk took a measured look, before taking a short drink of the wine, before looking back.

“It’s not terrible.”

The Rear Admiral laughed.

“That’s high praise. I’m not sure anything could please your stiff palette, other than the best.”

Mihawk took another sip, letting the liquid run across his tongue.

“It’ll do, I suppose.” He said, putting it down. “It doesn’t seem like your little island is very interesting otherwise.” The rear admiral Jacobson smiled at the swordsman.

“Interesting? Perhaps not for a man of your caliber, but for me, it’s been divine. We export the best wine and women!”

Mihawk tilted his chin.

“The monastery girls,” Jacobson added, with a wink. “The nobles send their daughters here to learn how to be good wives. Makes the entire island a pretty penny, and we get to see pretty women.”

“How quaint,” Mihawk responded with little care.

Jacobson leaned in as if he expected a juicy bit of gossip, and Mihawk raised his glass again.

“Oh, don’t be so closed-mouth! I know you came in with that fancy noble who has his eyes on our girls! Tell me if it’s true that he wants to take our sweet, lovely island beauty. I speak, of course, of Ms. Gabriella!”

Jacobson named a woman's first name that Mihawk prompted recognized and ignored. The swordsman gave a sound that was similar to a snort, though he was too elegant to do so outright. He was tempted to immediately leave hearing that name again. After having to listen to that incessant noble who decided to follow him, he could live a very long life and not have to hear it again.

“This conversation turns tedious,” Mihawk replied, “Such things hold little interest for me.”

“Always the swordsman, dedicated to your craft.” The rear-admiral joked, much to Mihawk's great annoyance at the familiarity. “For a former pirate, you have always been quite dedicated, much like those nobles.”

“I’m a pirate, not a savage.” The pirate scoffed, lowering the wine onto the bar with a clink. He rose, moving to leave before he had to hear any more nonsense. “The wine is astringent. Hardly worth a visit.”

The Rear Admiral gaffed, scooting his chair so the swordsman could pass.

“You should pass by the monastery. They had the best wine on the island.” Jacobson said, raising the glass to take a long sniff. “They always purchase our best for their private sacrament.”

Mihawk raised a hand, not bothering to give a reply.

He was not much inclined to take the word of someone who touted such fine taste and failed to live up to the expectations, but he had run low and disliked the idea of setting off without a fresh crate.

He learned against a pier, next to his boat, listening in to the local fishermen passing, morning still fresh. Villagers only give him half a glance and Marines kept a wide distance, more familiar with his old Wanted Poster.

He had learned early in life that the best way to discover the best wine was to listen to the townspeople. And though he wasn’t much inclined to speak, he had found his fair share of bounties simply being near.

But he did raise a brow at the topic of today’s rumor mill.

It was the name.

The name of the girl, at the monastery. Ms. Something Gabriella. It seemed that this girl was of some importance in the town, her name was like a buzzing fly in his ear.

Gabriella Gabriella Gabriella

What was that first name?

Ah yes.

Ms (name) Gabriella.

After putting the two together he pressed his lips together.

The last name alone was popular enough that he hadn’t thought much when people shouted praises about the girl. However, the first name was unique enough that it did cause a memory of something to resurface.

Isabella Gabriella.

An old pirate captain, who enjoyed daggers. He wondered if there was any relation between the girl and the pirate swordswoman he had known long ago, who had been a fearsome foe indeed when he was a young man.

She often bragged about her precious little daughter, who had the same name as this monastery girl.

He glanced at the Monastery, turning. Well, he supposed it wouldn’t be that big of a detour.

Perhaps even bearable if there was good wine.

-XXX-

The white sheets fluttered in the cool sea breeze that the evening on the coast had brought, the crisp breeze ridding it of the last wrinkles and folds. Careful fingers folded the fabric into a sharp square, placing it in the large wicker basket next to the laundry before you turned to the last row of hanging sheets.

You couldn’t help stop your eyes from wandering past the tall stone wall of the Nunnery Annex and gazing down the hill where the shimmering white of Ciudad Blanca lay, flaunting its beauty to all who came across the Isla de Palma.

You could appreciate the artistry that had gone into the white facade of the rich town, as you had once been part of something.

You blinked, hearing your name.

Ms. Gabriella.

Calls of it came from those passing, able to see through the cutouts in the wall, making you feel akin to a goldfish in a too-small bowl.

The monastery walls had been built less for the comfort of those inhabiting it but as a symbol of its wealthy patrons. It was a very popular destination on Isla Palma, and though you preferred cloistering herself away in the depths of the monastery, you had watched those visitors with a melancholy stirring in your heart.

Adventurous, free, people.

Located in the West Blue, the beautiful city saw more than its fair share of seafaring wanderers, an almost alarming toss-up of Marines and merchants. You heard more than you saw, as enough seemed to fear the Gods that they would visit, climbing the stairs to reach the tall white building.

And, inevitably, some of those travelers were almost certainly pirates masquerading as sailors.

And despite your hair being tightly pulled back into a strict bun, secured by coif and wimple, under the black veil, it did little to hide your lovely face and sparkling eyes, as bright as the lights dancing off the warm ocean.

And others noticed, as well.

When you were on rotation for laundry or any other tasks outside the monastery walls you would be cat-called, harassed, or confronted by angry women.

you tended, hiding yourself behind the last youets, folding as quickly as you could.

You weren’t surprised at the rough-looking travelers who called as you trod behind the Abbess, as you greatly suspected they were pirates. But the number of Marines who would leer at you and the other sisters was downright horrible.

You whipped another sheet off the laundry and winced when you heard a rip.

Damn.

Mother Superior would be greatly displeased with her, as she already thought you taking the food and space that so many other young females would be grateful for.

A good marriage, the Mother Superior had often told you, was something a face like yours should aspire to. It was one of the Abbotess’s many ways of letting you know that time was ticking for her, and if you could not find a proper husband, you’d be found one.

Choose, you foolish girl, choose!

Countless men had been offered to her, but the photos and love letters blurred before your eyes as panic caused your stomach to heave.

Your entire body reacted to the notion of marriage, shoulders squaring and knees locking as you attempted not to drop to your knees.

You felt a drop of sweat run down your shoulder at the thought of accepting one of the many proposals coming through the Monastery letterbox. Many wealthy men came to the island, but few were good. Less who had all their teeth, and had the resources to afford a bride dowry for her.

And those acceptable were almost exactly like father.

Your father, a name not earned but given regardless, was a noble living in the holy city of Mary Genoese, bathing in wealth and privilege. you hadn’t seen him in years. He saw you more as a prize swan than flesh and blood, and the only reason you heard from him was when he reminded you of your duty to marry, mainly through very unpleasant Den Den Mushi calls via snail.

And his latest he hasn’t held back, letting you know that whoever you accepted, expected to receive a generous offering for her.

The Mother Superior had a vice-like grip on your arm, keeping you in check.

Of course, you agreed.

A record number of Berry would go on to continue running the monastery with your success. That was the whole reason girls like you were boarded and raised by nuns.

But your worth was ticking down if you passed into your thirties without choosing.

The town bell rang, counting down your hours.

You wanted to pull the entire line of laundry down, angry at everything. Your life hadn’t started as a plot to turn into a breeding cow!

Your mother had been an adventurous, independently wealthy captain before wedding father. He had promised her a similar lifestyle after getting hitched, just adding his fine title as a nobleman with a residence in the Holy City.

And so you were a child who had worn only the finest dresses, even when running through the swelling ocean waves, hair perfectly coiffed even as you lay to sleep.

Maids regularly pampered her, and the best tutors engaged her mind. You voraciously read books and loved your father for generously giving you so many. Many afternoons had been spent aboard your mother's ship, set up in a hammock reading romance and eating the finest sweets, and even tasting the fine wine they sailed around delivering.

Your mother's crew was mostly retired marines and had generously taught you all about the wine trade as if you were their child. Your mother taught you more than a few tricks with her daggers, though you preferred the feel of a sword.

Your mother had made you hide this when you visited your father. He had, over time become more and more vocal about his dislike of sea life, how women didn’t suit it, especially concerning you in particular.

You had, deep down, had a feeling that something had gone sour in him.

It had probably not helped that over time, your mother had taken on the lion's share of raising you, and your noble father had mostly enjoyed staying at home, raking in his wife's wealth and attention with far too much free time on his hands. They spent more time away than together, and soon, it was clear divorce would be imminent.

On your sixteenth birthday, your mother, her ship, and the entire crew were shot down by pirates and murdered.

You had miraculously been on a rare vacation with your father. He had praised the heavens for such good fortune but you deeply grieved, unable to find any value in your life compared to your mothers.

You weren’t even half the woman she was, in any respect, and now she was gone, you saw just how strong she had been to counter a man like your father.

Father wasted no time introducing the newest addition to his collection. And you meant that as a plural since it wasn’t a day after your mother’s passing that you discovered your mother was just one of four wives that your father secretly had. He went around town, touting how you were to be sold off in a similar manner.

You were determined to cut ties, your anger roused at such a callous insult, but before you could touch a penny of your inheritance he locked it away, then he locked you away, per the flexible arm of his noble title.

Your entire future shifted, and any chance at a seafaring life was gone. And it took less than a day for that to be made clear.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

You paused, hands loosening before you tore another bed sheet, focusing to take another deep breath.

Taking out your anger here would not give you back what you had lost. You would only receive toilet cleaning duties for the next month if you didn’t control yourself.

But every day, anger cinched your middle tighter, and inevitably, those invisible stays would break, or simply cut you in two.

Breathe, you reminded herself.

“Ms Gabriella, my beloved!!” Another voice called behind your back, and you scrunched your brows together. It was close. A cold shiver danced down your spine.

Heffery Jones.

“Lovely Sweet thing!”

You recognized that drunk voice and your brows furrowed. What a terrible day, you decided. While most of your well-wishers managed to control themselves and not climb the nunnery, this voice was coming too close to her.

You flinched, turning at the figure who was half dangling over the brick, waving too enthusiastically your way.

One of the somewhat poor townsmen, a very young fellow with brown hair and yellowing teeth grinned at your lost expression.

And very drunk.

“My love, why haven’t you responded to my proposal?” He cried out to you, still struggling on the balustrade.

“Go home Heffery, your wife works too hard for you to waste it on drinks.” you retorted, your tone flat. You didn’t have the time to state all of your reasons, but that was a start.

Not that it worked.

“Darling, let’s run away and go sail the sea together! My wife means nothing!” He cried, wiggling to try and get over the sharp spikes.

You actually liked Mary Jones and feel sorry you had married Heffery. But it was arranged, like most marriages in town. You were sure the only reason Mary Jones hadn’t run off was her children, who all looked suspiciously like your neighbor, rather than her husband.

You readied herself, grabbing the laundry basket, in case you needed to throw it at him.

“Heffery Jones, don’t you dare!” The voice of the Mother Superior rang out, startling both of them.

You, for once, were flooded with relief as you heard her call out from one of the many windows. Even if it meant a lecture later, of why you had been the problem. For now, Heffery could take the tongue-lashing of the older woman, for however long it took him to realize he needed to run.

The Abbot didn’t hold much power in the monastery, but he had a den den mushi phone and paid off the local marines for problems like this.

But Heffery Jones wasn’t known for his intelligence or listening ability, and he attempted to jump over the brick. Even the solid shoe you threw aimed at his face didn’t change his mind.

He still attempted to jump.

And this was only an attempt as he inadvertently sacrificed his fancy waistcoat on a lantern pedestal and flung himself back the other way, into the road. Your shoe met with a satisfying thump and fell to the ground on the other side.

You heard the alarm of the local church regulars and the dismay of drunk sailor men who had followed Heffery from his bar to egg him on, as well as the distant thuds of Heffery rolling down the hill, probably straight back into the bar he had come from.

So you waved goodbye, cheekily.

Mother Superior burst through the side door, just as you finished folding the laundry, hiding ripped sheet at the bottom of the pile.

“That disgusting man! And you, you! Must you flaunt yourself? If you wish to be seen, hurry up and choose a respectable suitor!”

you knew better than to argue, simply apologizing. Thankfully you weren’t forced to grovel for long, as the Abbot flew through the door, bouncing back from the Mother Superior's large girth.

“He is coming!” He cried, falling into a tumble of robes.

“Great Heavens!” The nun said in tandem, as Abbot cried out his news. “I already chased the Jones boy off!”

A nun followed the father, picking him up from the ground, and the old man wasted no time delivering his news to both of them.

“Not the boy, Mother!” He said with a flourish, slipping around her.

The Abbot grabbed your hands, gleefully.

“Your fiancé! He has been chosen! And he’ll be accompanied by a Warlord of the sea!” your mouth fell open, but you stopped herself by biting her lip.

“Pardon?” you croaked.

Mother Superior cackled in thanksgiving, holding up her hands in praise to the sky.

“He can afford a Warlord?!? He’s clearly rich and powerful enough to pay for an entire new section of the building!” Mother Superior cried out, picking up the Abbot and spinning him.

The man cried out in alarm, but you felt like you had been the one being spun. you knew the time had been ticking down, but your father had promised your mother, in a written will, that you would be able to choose your husband!

You stepped back, breath getting heavy. The Abbot and the Mother Superior danced around one another, leaving you the chance to dash away, trying your best not to hyperventilate. You flung yourself around the corner fleeing the wide courtyard to the smaller citrus grove.

Others disliked the mushy ground, laden with rotting oranges, and so you often found respite there.

There on the bench, you raised your lone barefoot to look at the consequences of a very impulsive throw. Not that it hadn’t been deserved, but now you’d have to go beg the gate guard to fetch it for you.

Or…

You glanced at the old, bolted side gate in the wall behind the last tree.

If you dare, you could unlock it, dart out, and get it herself. You questioned if it was worth potentially being discovered, but if you were quick, and only to avoid unnecessary drama, it very well might be. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you sighed, agreeing it was certainly a bad day.

This inner debate was cut short when you heard a thud, near the gate.

You jumped up, startled, head snapping over.

A shiver ran down your spine at what you had found.

A shoe.

Your shoe.

There, in a space bare of any fallen oranges, lay your shoe.

You dash to the gate, from where the shoe almost certainly came, thrusting your head out of the small space on the top. And you only caught your beneficiary as they turned the corner, the edge of a dark coat.

And you were unsure why such a small glimpse of a simple kind of action made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

You turned, ready to call out to the person, or something.

“Girl!”

You jumped back, throwing on your shoe just as Mother Superior turned the corner and found you.

“Quit hiding around, it’s time to get ready! Your father wishes to speak with you!”

-XXX-

If there was anything that could make this day worse, it was getting a call from your father. The den den mushi for the convent was not only slow, but your father had become unbearable.

The snail did a great job conveying his disregard for you.

“Do us both a favor, you, and be on your best behavior.”

“Father-” you began, only to be sharply cut off.

“-While you may not want to be married, you, but there’s no other respectable path for your future. I promise there are much worse suitors who are interested, who wouldn’t care much for your consent.”

“-Father-”

“Pirates, even.”

You froze.

“Be a good girl, my dear. I mean, anything is better than one of those Doflamingo boys. I’ve heard that Donquixote is little better than a brute. He’s been looking for a noble bride and has the money. He had no real title, since that debacle, and has been calling me up incessantly.”

Surely your father wouldn’t be cruel enough to consider that? you didn’t dare call his bluff, only to be proven wrong. you had heard plenty about the fallen noble Doflamingos, and you knew that your father was no longer joking. If you pressed him, then he’d make it worse for you.

“You’ll be a darling, won’t you, my dear? Go make pretty eyes at that nice new fiance and make sure you walk away with a ring.”

…

“Yes… father.”

-XXX-

You sat in the citrus grove, finally alone. It was chilly, being outside well into the night with only a shawl, still wearing the day dress.

Fingers clenched in the fine, high-waisted cotton dress, simple but well made. It had been the only nice dress you possessed, but had still needed a quick fitting since you had lost weight as time slipped on. Dainty slippers pinched at your toes, clearly borrowed from someone who had smaller feet.

Your hair had been groomed till it shone, left mostly up twisted into a pretty pearl netting to keep your face clear of any strays. Even makeup had been acquired.

Not even a week had passed, but you already met your new finacé.

And it had been what you expected. You had hoped that it wouldn’t be an extended meeting with the Noble fiancé because alas, no good were wishes anymore. Ronald W. Canonfire the Fourth was a long-winded, much older man looking for a pretty third wife, just to liven things up, since his other two were getting so old. And he disliked their ‘worn’ bodies since they had had almost twenty children between them.

You grit your teeth and played dumb.

Though you had been engaged, a first meeting tended to be shorter, by tradition. It was mostly to assure the buyer that the bride was as had been showcased to be. And if he approved, which he probably would, the wedding would proceed. And your next meeting with him would be the day you would go down the aisle.

Good Lord.

You couldn’t live that way.

No-

You wouldn’t.

You took in a deep breath, your chest heaving. Surely, this was not going to be the way your life went. Whatever it took, you would not be going down that aisle. You could secretly take the vows, or maybe even slip away, and find work on the docks disguised. Or stowaway!

Anything.

Anything, but this life.

So you stood, unsure of what path you were going to take, only sure that you had to take it.

And to hear a lock break.

The door on the side of the monastery creaked open.

You whip your head around, confident someone has somehow read your thoughts.And your chest nearly seizes as you brace yourself for whatever is coming.

The first thing you saw, from the deep shadows of the doorway, were well-oiled boots. Followed by dark pants, a rich black coat, and a sleek hat with a feather. A cutting figure, to say the least. His scandalous lack of a shirt was not missed, nor were the cut muscles that gleamed pristine white.

You take a step back, thinking you should probably call out for help, but are unable to find the words.

There is something downright transfixing about this man, and it’s not just the way his muscles cut down to the downright sinful apex of his pants.

He’s older, but not much.

Your mouth goes dry.

“Are you going to throw your shoe again?” He has a mild tone, almost bored. “Or should I wait?”

“You-” You mutter in fascination. “You are the man who threw back my shoe.”

He steps through, letting the gate swing close behind him.

“Why are you here?” You ask, perplexed. You might be afraid, but he looks so disinterested that you can’t help but feel a bit calm.

“Are you going to throw it at me this time?” He asks again, a sharp brow raising.

Heck, the man’s entire face was sharp, accentuated by well-groomed facial hair, and generous lashes, held together by a severe expression.

His unmissable eyes must have seen your first, for when your gaze reached his face, he was already looking at her.

Startled, you realized they were gold. Gold, and almost alien in appearance. All of these things were eye-catching and startling.

And for a moment, both stared.

But that’s not what you gazed at with an abrupt interest.

Just as he stepped into full view of the single lantern overhead, the light danced off the large metal cross on the man’s back, giving you a view of what must be the largest sword you’ve ever seen.

“Is that a kriegsmesser?” You said before you could stop yourself. “It’s enormous.”

You swear at yourself, as a reminder that the last thing you need to do is start fangirling over weapons, lest you encourage the intruder to use his own. And for it to come out like you is an innuendo.

It truly was a long, horrible day, if this was your best manners.

One of the man’s brows lifted, followed by a slight down curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Yoru.” He answered, and you blinked. “Is hardly so simple as a mere Kriegsmesser. She may be my largest sword, but I’m effective with all I equipt.”

Your mouth tilted in a smile, glee filling your chest, before you managed to clear your throat at his sly joke. Suddenly you were ten again, on the deck of the ‘Sweet Joy’ and practicing your footwork.

“Yoru,” You repeated, subtly swaying the motions you’d use with such a sword. It sounded familiar, though it had been ten years since you had read anything about swords. “May I see her?” You ask, forgoing all manners, like a bar whore.

This time, the man actually gave a smile, though it was very subtle.

“It’s not for taming bunnies.” He said, coming a step closer, and glancing down at your feet.

“Lend me your blade and we can test that theory.” You retort sharply, much to his amusement, the way he leans forward.

“I hardly here for a fight with a nun.” He said with a drawl, his tone mildly amused.

“I am not a nun.” He waved a hand like it made little difference. “Why did you come?” you said cooly, moving to put the bench between you. You hoped he was here to take you hostage, but you couldn’t make it seem easy, and give yourself away.

The man sighed, giving you a long look as if he could read your mind.

“Don’t kid yourself. I heard there’s good wine here.” The man replied, leaning against the door of the outer wall

You blinked.

“I guess.” you said, “But this isn’t exactly a store.”

“Understood,” He said wryly.

“And the Abbot will also be asleep by now, even for a distinguished gentleman yourself.” You fold your arms.

“Hense the sidegate.” He tilted his fancy hat to the broken side door.

“Rude.” You reply. “I should scream.” You wave a hand.

He moves so quickly you don’t see him place a finger on your mouth until it’s there.

“Perhaps we can come to an accord.” The man said, and you stepped back, slapping the hand away.

“Perhaps, for the right price.” you gave him a long look. “Do you own a boat?”

The man lowered his chin, giving you a hard stare that you struggled to keep, and only did so since your entire life was on the line.

A nod and you assumed that meant yes.

“I need passage off this island. And quickly,” You muttered, lowering your voice and stepping closer. He sighed as if you had asked him to pluck the moon out of the sky.

“Oh? Now why would I ever do that? Even good wine isn’t worth a private ride on my boat.” He said, tone flat.

“The wine is the best on the island. A vintage from my mother’s last shipment.” You bartered, standing your ground. “My word is good. I have my sommelier certification, and still have an active registration in the Vineyard Guild. I know wine.”

The swordsman looked you down steadily with his gold eyes.

“What’s your mother’s name?” He said, moving to the bench to sit before you, one leg elegantly flung over the other.

“Isabella Gabriella, the captain of the-”

“The wine merchant and you’re her daughter?” You wonder if you should be offended by the long look he gives you, but for some reason it fills you with butterflies, to be seen so thoroughly.

“You knew my mother?”

“Very well, girl. You’ve piqued my interest. Let’s make a deal.” He lifts a hand, gesturing to the monestary.

“I require two crates of wine for your passage to the next island.” He says, and you look at him harshly.

“This wine is worth at least a trip to the Grand Line.” You counter, fingers clenching your arms.

“Now why would a bunny like you want to go to the Grand Line? Surely you don’t think well-bred girls such as yourself are better off there than here?”

“If wine isn’t enough, then I’ll fight you for the honor of riding on your boat. If only to prove to you I can handle myself. ”

“Fight? You, a little bunny?” He said, this time you knew you had amused him, by the way the corners of his mouth raised.

“I doubt I could defeat you, swordsman, but I’m not a girl. But if I can land even a single blow, would that impress you?”

“Very well.” He said, folding his arms. “This is hardly an appropriate venue. When an opportunity arrives, we’ll see what you’re made of.”

You lower your arms, placing your hands flat against your dress. Better for him to underestimate you now.

“Fine. When and where?”

The man stood, turning to the gate, practically making you follow him out.

“It bores me to wait, so be by the docks to my ship by next nightfall. And only come if you manage to get the wine, girl.”

“I’m not a girl.” You say, and then clearly annunciate your name, but the man just walks down the cobblestone road, away from you. “What’s your name?” You call out, brows furrowed, arms holding the door to not clang.

“Dracule.”

He doesn’t look back.

And as you swiftly go back into the monastery, already planning your escape, you can’t help but get the notion that you’ve heard that name before.

#fanfic #romance #op #onepiece #one piece #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #If you have the imagination #it’s just fanfic folks

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inaconstantstateofchange · 1 year ago

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BG3 Companion Headcanons: Wicked Grace (Or, Well, Talis¹)

I got to thinking about what it would look like if we had a similar scene with the BG3 companions as the infamous Wicked Grace scene from Dragon Age: Inquisition. Enjoy:

Lae'zel: She doesn't really see the point of a game seemingly so dependent on chance rather than true strategy – she and Gale share a bonding moment over this – and refuses to participate after losing by an embarrassing margin in the first game. However, she does take a "strategic vantage point" from which to keenly observe the proceedings, and makes a private vow to win back her honor in future, after the sting of defeat has eased.

Astarion: He's the one who suggested the whole affair in the first place, but he quickly finds himself with cause to regret it. On the one hand, he ends up... enjoying himself to a certain degree, but on the other, he does not come out of it with anything near the unquestioned victory he expected. He's not used to playing against opponents with a comparable skill level, so his attempts to cheat his way to victory only succeed a fraction of the time. His stress levels increase after Lae'zel taps out and takes up haunting the table, and the inconsistency with which she calls out his cheating is worse for his nerves than if she did it every time.

Shadowheart: Astarion may have suggested the affair in the first place, but she's the one who manipulated him into it, by "casually" noting on a mission one day that it was a shame none of them had a deck to play with, as she was a great enjoyer of the game even though she had never had any great skill with it. In fact, such games were highly emphasized among Sharrans for their unparalleled utility in information gathering, manipulation, and subterfuge.

Gale: He starts out very certain of his skill and assured victory, then begins making several pointed comments about how it would be a different story if they were to bring out the lanceboard when he begins losing ground — and articles of clothing. He makes a decent showing for himself, but folds out just after the midpoint of the evening to join Lae'zel in treating the remaining players as the prime entertainment they are.

Wyll: He played with some of the Fist recruits as a teenager, but he's a little out of practice. He gets fleeced for the first few rounds, but settles into it, keeps his wits about him, and quietly gets his own back by the later rounds. He regularly catches his opponents off-guard with an unexpected quip, and Karlach has to excuse herself for an entire round after snorting ale out of her nose in a horrid mix of foul steam and boiling liquid. He apologizes vigorously, but can't stop laughing along with the rest of them, and it certainly doesn't make him stop.

Karlach: She's actually a brutal opponent, but unfortunately stymied by her recent experience being with the rulesets used by those devils willing to play in Avernus, and, prior to that, the heavily amended rules favored by the seedier neighborhoods of Baldur's Gate. No one – particularly not those currently winning – is willing to switch to a different set of rules in the middle of the evening, but Karlach makes them promise that next time, she gets to pick the ruleset. She calls it a night after the Ale Incident, clapping Wyll on the back before flopping down next to Gale and Lae'zel, and picking a new target to cheer on each round. (Her cheering is distracting enough that said targets are typically grateful when her attention lands on anyone else. This is on purpose. She is having a grand time.)

Minthara: She treats the initial invite with icy disdain, noting that she has far more productive things to do than to engage in such puerile pursuits. The camp is small enough that she can't entirely avoid the bright cluster of gathered individuals raucously ribbing at and laughing with each other. She ends up drifting nearer, noting that in Menzoberranzan they played for much more meaningful stakes than mere coin. Everyone's in a good enough mood to leave that one alone, and so she somehow ends up standing just behind Halsin's shoulder. She offers blunt and often biting commentary berating his strategy for being too hands-off, falling silent only when he wins that round — albeit with a gambit that would have lost him some fingers in Menzoberranzan. He looks at her with a gleam in his eye, but doesn't press his point, merely tilting his hand to allow her a better view, and they proceed to form a fairly successful team.

Halsin: He plays up his ignorance at first, claiming cards to be "an invention of civilization", but acquits himself with the skill of a reasonably accomplished dabbler. As the night wears on, he admits in a quiet, humor-laced aside that his master, the previous First Druid, was an inveterate card sharp, and Halsin's own skill was merely what he acquired in self-defense. When Minthara joins him, he ignores her more bloodthirsty suggestions, but incorporate those that suit his own strategy, culminating in an unpredictable, yet startlingly effective strategy.

Jaheira: She's brutal. A terror. They overlook her the first round – innocent, unknowing fools that they are – more focused on their own petty squabbles with one another. She smiles calmly, refuses to rise to any of the general ribbing, then sweeps the entire pot at the last minute with a play that leaves them all gaping at her. From that point, they are gunning for her in particular — and she makes them fight for every single copper they regain.

Minsc: No one is certain whether he knows what game they're playing. He will make absolutely absurd plays, then come in at the last with a card laid out on Boo's direction that somehow turns it around. His chaotic playstyle means he's never first — but he's also, inexplicably, never last.

¹ "Some games of skill are detailed below, but games of chance are also popular. Wagering on any sort of game is also a favorite pastime.... Talis Deck: A deck of seventy-eight cards, typically made of lacquered paper or parchment, in a wooden case. The deck is similar to a tarot deck." Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. p. 96.

#voidling speaks #headcanon #meta #my meta #bg3 #halsin #minthara #wyll ravenguard #shadowheart #karlach #jaheira #minsc #astarion #gale dekarios #lae'zel

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taintedsoul-if · 1 day ago

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But does people knows that Yesenia is not Lady Anaya daughter? How dear father would act if he knows that Yesenia is not his bio daughter?

My mc would be interested in his reaction. Also, what we must do to inherit the family money, house and power?

So it'll be Ragriel, Isuara, Yesenia (who knows the truth herself), the Emperor, and your MC. The drug Yesenia takes is strong enough to mold her face into that of Lady Anaya—it's 90% effective.

Once she takes the pill, she has to avoid all liquids and stick to solid foods only. That's why, during the breakfast scene, she was so protective of her grapes.

As for your scene request… I’ll be keeping a tight lid on this one. But I will say this—even after finding out the truth, Ragriel would still hesitate to cast Yesenia aside. After all, she does know future events.

Back when the original host was sick, Yesenia proved her knowledge over and over to the court. She predicted events with frightening accuracy, and it earned her no small amount of trust and fear.

In Ragriel’s eyes, the MC is pretty much useless. They don’t possess the same knowledge of the future that Yesenia does. And now, with Yesenia having stolen the MC’s space, that just makes things worse. From Ragriel’s perspective, what use is the MC? And if the goal is to unite the Four Lands, what good does it do him to back a child with no political leverage?

He knows if he tosses Yesenia aside, the Emperor won’t hesitate to take her in—and that would tilt the power balance dangerously. On the other hand, if Ragriel sides with the MC, there’s a real chance he could fall out of favor with the Emperor. And that could lead to things going very, very badly… like the execution of Ragriel’s 9th-generation line.

Because here’s the thing—Ragriel knows secrets about the Emperor that nobody else does. Yes, the Emperor has his left- and right-hand men, but Ragriel— He’s the one the Emperor schemes with. The stakes are high. And Ragriel has to think about the benefits.

But that’s all I’ll say for now. I’m keeping the rest to myself.

Screenshots for inheritance incoming:

Nothingness's high-priority mission.

#ask #lovely anon #inheritance quest #Yesenia #Ragriel #thanks for the ask anon #sneak peak #upcoming chapter #Lady Anaya

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brookaboo · 11 hours ago

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Firestorm

part 1

Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

authors note: reader has a fire quirk and is the twin sister of Dabi her and Shigaraki are in a pre established relationship and reader also has long hair

warnings: language, talks of violence, kidnapping, use of y/n, let me know if I missed any

summary: the LOV executes what they believe is a perfect plan involving a high-stakes kidnapping. But things spiral quickly when they forget one crucial detail: informing Y/N, twin sister of Dabi and a powerful fire-wielder in her own right. What starts as a secret operation turns into a chaotic reckoning as Y/N discovers the truth—and she’s not the type to let reckless decisions slide

The League of Villains thought they had a flawless plan: kidnap Bakugo Katsuki, the explosive prodigy of U.A. High. His aggression, his raw power, his temper—all prime ingredients for a future villain. But there was one tiny, fiery problem.

They didn’t tell Y/N.

And Y/N—Dabi’s twin sister, the hot-headed firestarter with a temper to match Bakugo’s—was not someone you kept secrets from.

Kurogiri had been casually cleaning glasses behind the bar when he let it slip.

“...yes, and now that we’ve secured the boy from U.A. Or plans are progressing—”

“What boy?” Y/N asked thinking of it as a joke but with a hint of anger in her tone

Then Kurogiri simply says “that aggressive boy from the hero’s course at U.A I think katsuki bakugo is his name I heard he is real explosive”

Y/n snapped, eyes already glowing faintly as her pupils thinned like coals in a fire

“They kidnapped a teenager?” Her voice was low. Dangerous. Her hair sparked at the ends, glowing red-orange like an ember just before the blaze.

Kurogiri calmly continued wiping the same glass As he says “it was mainly your brother and boyfriends plan they said he has potential of being a great asset to our team”

The glass in Y/N’s hand cracked with the heat of her tightening grip and then slowly melted turning into liquid glass on the surface of the bar

moments before they stepped through the portal...

Dabi was side-eyeing Shigaraki, arms crossed. “You’re dead when she finds out if you think I’m mean just wait until she finds out what you plan to accomplish with this kid”

Shigaraki scoffed. “That’s why she isn’t finding out.”

Toga just giggles and says “I wouldn’t be so sure of that knowing her she is waiting at the hideout plotting our murder right at this moment” she then pauses and twirls her knife around and then continues “although she takes the fun out of it by just burning I mean what about the lovely blood think of all the uses”

Twice simply grimaces and says “I try so hard to convince others you are normal although you make it so difficult” and then says in a mumbled tone “although I don’t mind you being different”

they pause and then walk through the portal created by kurogiri who is awaiting their return at the hideout and enter the bar but they were immediately hit by an intense wave of heat. Not from the summer weather it felt almost unnatural at how the heat felt

Toga blinked and casually fanned herself. “Uhh about her not finding out... I think she already knows.”

She peered around. “Yep. Judging by the melted glass on the counter and the fact that I can literally smell burning floorboards—we’re about to be even more crispy then Dabi”

Twice looked around and noticed Kurogiri calmly wiping down counters and he frantically says “Kurogiri! How does she know did you tell her?!”

From behind the bar he calmly says “I was bored and wanted some entertainment besides it is not my fault that you guys are going behind her back I simply just helped a friend out”

Twice then chimed in in a deeper voice “Oh yeah, that makes sense.”

“No it doesn’t!!” Twice screeched. “Now we’re all dead meat! We are now about to be Extra well done!”

Spinner tried to quietly shuffle backwards toward the portal, but Magne snatched him by the collar. “Oh no, if we’re going down, you’re coming too”

Mr. Compress adjusted his mask nervously. As the others eyes land on an angry y/n he then says “Oh my dear Y/N, loving the hairdo. It’s very... murder-chic.”

Y/N turned her blazing eyes toward him.

He promptly shut up.

In the middle of the chaos, Bakugo sat tied to a chair, his arms encased in thick metal cuffs designed to suppress his Quirk. His face was bruised, but he looked more pissed than injured. Y/n notices someone behind Dabi and walks over she grabs the collar of his jacket and pulls and then shoves him out of the way “HEY what the hell” he screeches out as he catches himself and then dusts off imaginary dust from his pants trying to pretend he didn’t just get manhandled by his twin

Y/N’s fury dimmed slightly as she locked eyes with the person sitting the the chair

“You okay, kid?”

Bakugo snorted. “Oh yeah, just peachy. Nothing like getting kidnapped by a bunch of psychos and then coming face to face with their fiery girlfriend with murder in her eyes.”

Her lips twitched, not quite a smile.

“You know, for someone in the hero course, you’ve got a real attitude.”

“Yea well that’s rich coming from Ms. Ready to murder everyone”

She walked over and crouched beside him. “Don’t push it, kid. Right now, I’m the only reason they aren’t fucking with you”

He looked at her, expression softening by the tiniest fraction. “...Tch.”

Turning her burning gaze on the League, she crossed her arms as flames crackled in her hair coming more to life at the sight of them casting her in an infernal glow.

The room went silent.

Every villain there—including Dabi—was suddenly studying the floor like it was the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

“You kidnapped a kid,” Y/N growled. “Without telling me.”

Toga slowly raised her hand. “Technically—”

“Shut it, Toga.”

Toga put her hand down.

Y/N's eyes narrowed at Shigaraki. “Tomura. You and me. Talk. Now.”

Shigaraki swallowed hard and followed her, already bracing for the incoming firestorm and toga says “oooooooooo she said first name you really are dead” as she giggles but then y/n glances at her and says “don’t think you won’t get yours”

#touya todoroki #tomura shiragaki #shigaraki x reader #mha #mha x reader #fem!reader #tomura shigiraki x reader #toga himiko #mha bakugou

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intelisync · 1 year ago

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2024 Guide to Liquid Restaking: Everything Beginners Should Know

The advent of liquid restaking is significantly altering the dynamics of the DeFi ecosystem by allowing stakers to reallocate their assets across multiple protocols without the need to un-stake. This innovative approach enhances both liquidity and flexibility, enabling users to maximize their staking rewards by participating in several staking opportunities simultaneously. By diversifying staking activities, liquid restaking mitigates risks associated with exposure to a single protocol and enhances overall security. It also improves liquidity, making it easier for users to trade and transfer their restaked assets, a flexibility not afforded by traditional staking methods.

Liquid restaking's seamless integration with DeFi platforms facilitates the use of staked assets in various financial products, thereby opening up a plethora of innovative use cases, such as collateralized lending and synthetic asset creation. This integration supports the decentralization ethos of blockchain technology by allowing more participants to engage in staking without the constraints of locked assets. As the DeFi sector continues to evolve, liquid restaking is poised to become a foundational component, driving greater innovation and user participation.

EigenLayer exemplifies the benefits of liquid restaking by enabling users to maximize their staking rewards while securing multiple blockchains. This approach not only enhances capital efficiency but also fosters new opportunities within the DeFi space.

For those looking to leverage these advantages, Intellisync provides advanced liquid restaking solutions, ensuring your assets remain accessible and continuously productive. Join the Intellisync revolution today and optimize Learn more....

#Benefits of Liquid Restaking #Benefits of Liquid Restaking for Beginners #Blockchain Development Solution Intelisync #Future of Liquid Restaking #How can liquid restaking improve my staking yields #How does liquid restaking enhance liquidity in the DeFi ecosystem?#Intelisync Blockchain solution #Intelisync defi Liquid Restaking #Liquid Restaking #Risks Liquid Restaking #Risks in 2024 Liquid Restaking #Trends 2024 Liquid Restaking vs Traditional Staking #Unlock the Future of DeFi with InteliSync #What are AVS(Actively Validated Services)#What are the risks associated with liquid restaking?#What future potential does liquid restaking hold for DeFi participants?#What is EigenLayer #What is Liquid Restaking What is Liquid Restaking in Blockchain #Intelisync Blockchain Development Services #Intelisync Web3 Marketing Service #Web3 Marketing Solution #blockchain development companies #web3 development #metaverse development company #blockchain development services #metaverse game development #web 3.0 marketing #crypto app development #cryptocurrency development companies #build a blockchain and a cryptocurrency from scratch.

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superex-media · 1 day ago

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Why Did Ethereum Choose SharpLink? This $425M Strategy Is About More Than Just Storing ETH

#Ethereum #SharpLink #ETH

Do you remember how Saylor turned MicroStrategy into the flagship Bitcoin concept stock? Now, Joe Lubin is running the same playbook for Ethereum — and it’s already happening.

On May 27, SharpLink (Nasdaq: SBET) suddenly announced a $425 million private investment, led by Ethereum co-founder and ConsenSys CEO — Joseph Lubin. And this isn’t just money raised for the sake of raising — it’s real cash, going straight into buying ETH as core treasury reserves.

The moment this news broke, SharpLink’s stock price soared 650% in a single day. A previously unknown sports betting tech stock suddenly became the new frontrunner in the crypto equity sector. But more importantly, this isn’t just a financing game — it’s Ethereum officially launching a signal flare on Wall Street.

Click to register SuperEx

Click to download the SuperEx APP

Click to enter SuperEx CMC

Click to enter SuperEx DAO Academy — Space

First of All: Let’s Be Honest — SharpLink’s Fundamentals Are Not Great.In 2023, it lost over $14 million. In 2024, still in the red. Revenue is shrinking too. So how did a company that’s not even profitable get ConsenSys to throw in hundreds of millions?

Simple: SharpLink is a publicly listed micro-cap stock in the U.S., legally traded, under the radar, and dirt cheap.

Before the private investment, it was valued at around $10 million — basically a shell-company price tag. Lubin invested $425 million and bought 69 million shares at $6.15 each, seizing over 90% control. No SPAC. No IPO roadshow. No banks involved. Just like that, Ethereum gained a publicly listed “vault proxy” on Nasdaq. Classic reverse-merger move. And with the sports betting narrative, they’ll have plenty of future “Web3 + entertainment” stories to tell.

ETH’s Version of MicroStrategy: The Flywheel Begins

This is a strategy that’s already proven itself. Saylor perfected it. Now the Ethereum version of the flywheel is clearly spinning up — four steps:

Raise capital at a low price and inject ETH;

Stake ETH long-term to earn yield;

As the stock price rises, raise more capital;

Buy more ETH, add leverage, and keep the flywheel turning.

SharpLink has already completed the first step — using $425 million to purchase about 120,000 ETH (at $3,500 each). Once staked, this directly reduces market supply and creates a price floor for ETH.

Now, SharpLink stock becomes a proxy tool tied to ETH price + leverage + trading premium. If the market buys the narrative and SBET trades above its net ETH holdings, they can issue more shares, raise funds, and buy even more ETH. It becomes a printing press.

What Does This Operation Really Mean for the Industry?

We need to look at the milestone significance, not just SharpLink alone.

1. Giving Institutions ETH Exposure Without Holding Tokens

Many traditional institutions are restricted from holding crypto directly due to regulation, custody, or internal policies. But they can buy stocks. SharpLink is now effectively an ETH vault wrapped in a Nasdaq shell — a new window for legacy capital.

2. Long-Term ETH Supply Gets Squeezed

If all 120,000 ETH are staked, that’s locked-up supply — very similar to what Bitcoin ETFs are doing. This move directly removes liquidity from the market.

3. Ethereum Gets a New “Financial Narrative”

Ethereum used to be seen as infrastructure for DeFi or NFTs. Now you can say: ETH is digital gold AND a corporate treasury reserve asset. That’s a serious upgrade in legitimacy.

4. Other Companies May Follow

Just like Saylor’s Bitcoin bet with MicroStrategy kicked off a trend of corporate BTC holdings, SharpLink could become the ETH template. The first of its kind. It’s likely just the beginning — we could soon see a second, third, or even a full-blown “ETH ETF proxy stock” sector forming.

5. ETH Price Might Stay Flat — But the Narrative Just Shifted

Make no mistake: this is a pivotal moment for Ethereum’s long-term narrative.

It now has treasury-grade legitimacy.

Traditional finance is paying attention.

Staking plus treasury reserves = real supply contraction.

These three points will likely define the ETH bull case for the next 6–12 months.

6. Is ConsenSys Just Getting Started?

Some analysts believe this might be a strategic warm-up. According to official statements, the goal is to test the waters — see whether the market buys the “ETH vault meets public company” concept.Translation: if SharpLink’s story gains traction, a ConsenSys IPO could be next, and its market cap might very well be benchmarked against this ETH treasury experiment.

Final Thoughts: This $425M Game Is Ethereum’s Bid for Mainstream Finance

Ethereum has never been “just a coin.” It’s an operating system, the base asset of the smart contract economy.Now, Lubin has taken it one step further — turning ETH from “gas” to “a reserve on the Nasdaq balance sheet,” using the most seasoned financial tactics: reverse merger, private placement, leverage, reserve, and flywheel.

We are witnessing the first step of ETH becoming a corporate treasury reserve on a global scale. It’s no longer just “Ethereum for DeFi” — it’s becoming “Ethereum accepted by mainstream finance.”

Are you ready to follow this new narrative?

#bitcoin #crypto #trump #ethereum #web3

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cryptoworldindia · 2 months ago

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Everything You Need to Know About UPB Token: The Future of Digital Transactions

The world of cryptocurrency is constantly evolving, with new tokens emerging to reshape the financial landscape. One such token making waves in the digital economy is UPB Token. Whether you're an investor, trader, or crypto enthusiast, understanding UPB Token can open up exciting opportunities. In this blog, we'll explore what UPB Token is, its features, use cases, and why it stands out in the competitive crypto market.

What is UPB Token?

UPB Token is a next-generation digital asset designed to facilitate fast, secure, and decentralized transactions. Built on a robust blockchain network, it offers users an efficient way to transfer value globally with low transaction fees and high scalability.

Key Features of UPB Token

✅ Decentralization: UPB Token operates on a decentralized blockchain, ensuring transparency and security without the need for intermediaries. ✅ Fast Transactions: The token is designed to process transactions within seconds, making it ideal for everyday use. ✅ Low Fees: Unlike traditional banking systems, UPB Token provides minimal transaction costs, allowing users to save money on transfers. ✅ Scalability: The network can handle a large number of transactions simultaneously, making it suitable for global adoption. ✅ Smart Contract Support: Developers can create decentralized applications (DApps) using UPB Token, enhancing its utility in the DeFi ecosystem.

Use Cases of UPB Token

1. Digital Payments

UPB Token can be used for online purchases, peer-to-peer transfers, and merchant payments, offering a seamless alternative to traditional payment systems.

2. Decentralized Finance (DeFi)

As part of the growing DeFi ecosystem, UPB Token enables staking, yield farming, and liquidity provision on various DeFi platforms.

3. NFT Marketplace

With the booming NFT industry, UPB Token can be used to buy, sell, and trade digital assets securely on NFT marketplaces.

4. Cross-Border Transactions

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mariacallous · 11 months ago

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The imposition of the largest sanctions program since the Second World War in response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine remains a key tool for limiting the Kremlin’s war machine. But it has inadvertently also had substantial secondary and tertiary effects, from the rewiring of European energy networks to myriad lawsuits over what insurers should have to pay for the Kremlin’s seizure of over 400 Western aircraft.

These unintended consequences have garnered far less attention than the intended ones, but the former are still multiplying and there are tens of billions of dollars already at stake in them. While sanctions rightfully continue to be tweaked to maximize their impact, policymakers have not paid due attention to the legal spats and sanctions challenges that have already arisen in their wake. Their outcome will greatly determine the effectiveness of the sanctions and the extent to which the Kremlin or the West will bear their cost.

This is not the first time the West has had to deal with such issues. At the outbreak of the war with Japan in 1941, the U.S. seized assets and businesses owned by Japanese nationals on its soil, acting under the Trading with the Enemy Act. These actions, while directed primarily at the war-time adversary, inevitably wrought a lot of collateral damage, as investors in Japanese enterprises, their creditors, or depositors in Japanese-owned banks, were often the American public.

It took years to untangle the resulting mess. And yet, when all was said and done, the U.S. Supreme Court and Congress acted to protect the interests of these investors, and ensure both the orderly liquidation and the equitable distribution of proceeds to those affected. Thus, the depositors of Yokohama Specie Bank, had their claims on the “yen certificates” preserved in a decision by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1967, allowing the certificate holders to recover at least some economic value from proceeds of the bank’s liquidation.

In short, there is a blueprint for handling the legal spats that result from waging economic war. That blueprint, in broad terms, is to act forcefully against the economic interests of the enemy, yet make full use of the institutions of law and justice for the interests of affected parties at home.

Today, as Russia and the West remain engaged in a full-scale economic war, this blueprint seems largely ignored. What we see instead, is perhaps the opposite: The adversary ruthlessly subverting the toolkit of the “rules-based international order” for its benefit with lawsuits that seem to lead Western institutions down the path of treading softly where Russian interests are concerned, while Western investors and, of course, Ukraine take the brunt of the costs and receive little or no protection.

Consider the June G-7 summit, where member states united on a plan for using the returns earned by Russia’s $300 billion in frozen sovereign assets to aid Ukraine, of which $200 billion are held as cash and securities at the Belgian financial company Euroclear. Leaders of the G7 have agreed to effectively monetize the future income flow on the frozen assets, and turn it into an immediate $50 billion in loans to Ukraine. This is as stark an acknowledgement as possible that Russia’s assets will not be returned to it any time soon, even if outright seizure is off the table for now following a chorus of complaints that doing so would not be compatible with international law.

Nevertheless, Brussels has insisted Kyiv will not receive any of the five billion euros that the frozen assets have generated thus far and continues to tread softly against Russia and its proxies. The reason: Euroclear itself is worried about lawsuits brought by Russia over this action and its freezing of other securities affected by the Western sanctions regime.

According to Euroclear, it is facing “a significant number of legal proceedings…almost exclusively in Russian courts,” where “the probability of unfavourable rulings is high since Russia does not recognize the international sanctions.”

This reveals a fundamental flaw in the arguments made by proponents of the so-called “rules-based international order.” Russia can appeal to its structures too—and, slowly but surely, make sanctions even less effective than they already are. Meanwhile in the West, the powers that be continue to dither, and ignore the blueprints for economic confrontation from the past.

Russia’s efforts here are already advancing: thus the suits against Euroclear, and the efforts of Mikhail Fridman—the sanctioned Russian oligarch—to return the nearly $16 billion of his former assets through an arbitration claim under the Soviet-Belgium-Luxembourg Bilateral Investment Treaty. As its name gives away, the pact actually even predates Russia’s establishment as an independent state and was inherited from the Soviet Union. It has not been updated since, but cannot be so easily unwound—its final clause notes that it applies to investments made before its hypothetical abrogation for 15 years thereafter.

It is also this treaty that Russia would ultimately use to try and have its domestic court rulings against Euroclear and other Western institutions enforced. We can be sure that there is more to come: Russia has already promised “endless legal challenges” if its assets or the income on these assets are seized. One of the largest such clashes is likely imminent, and will require politicians decide how to proceed. On 7 June the Permanent Court of Arbitration awarded Uniper, which was taken over after being bailed out by the German state, €13 billion in damages from Gazprom over Putin’s decision to toggle Europe’s gas taps in 2022, which forced Germany to bail out Uniper. A Russian arbitration court, on the other hand, has awarded Gazprom €14 billion from Uniper in the dispute. Berlin aims to re-IPO Uniper but will hardly be able to do so with such an albatross hanging above it.

It is therefore all the more remarkable that Western policymakers have not yet addressed how they intend to overcome such risks, nor why Russia remains permitted to take advantage of Western legal system under circumstances of a full-scale economic warfare.

Potential vulnerability to legal action by Russia and its proxies, and a lack of credible or coherent response by the West appears to have led Euroclear to take a number of actions that are clearly not in the Western interest and are often inconsistent with its past practices.

The clearing house has, for example, refused to label a number of securities as being in default in cases where the underlying entity has chosen to default rather than being forced to into default by sanctions. This has not just affected Russian corporate borrowers but even the debts of the government of neighboring Belarus. Belarus’ sovereign Eurobonds that were due to be repaid in early 2023 and are still unpaid, and thus in “default”; but Euroclear has instead designated these as “matured”. This semantic choice has significant implications, blocking the clearing and settlement of these bonds and thus impacting Western creditors – while Belarus, a key ally to Russia in its war, remains (intentionally or not) shielded from the full consequences of its default.

Good explanations for these actions are lacking, but it does appear that Euroclear has, in effect, accepted Belarus’ purported excuse: that sanctions prevent it from paying. But not all sanctions are a barrier to payment—certainly not those that have been imposed on Belarus. Notably, the Development Bank of Belarus, which faces a similar sanctions regime as the sovereign government, successfully made its coupon payment in November 2022, which was, albeit with delay, passed on to the bondholders by Euroclear. Suspension of payments, then, is simply a policy choice, and indeed, the Development Bank ultimately followed the sovereign and suspended payments as well, and this year failed to repay its Eurobonds at maturity. Euroclear took the same action with respect to the Development Bank’s bonds: they are marked as “matured” instead of “in default”.

This sort of leniency, and, seemingly, a fear of calling a “default” on a Russian ally, is without precedent, and completely at odds with the approaches by rating agencies, investors, the World Bank, the ISDA Determinations Committee (as it relates to Russia) and Euroclear’s own actions as to other sovereigns. In the recent past, the defaulted bonds of Sri Lanka, Lebanon, Zambia are all correctly marked by Euroclear as “in default” and continue to settle.

For Western creditors of Belarus, its Development Bank and the similarly placed Russian corporate borrowers, the block on trading and settlement by Euroclear is clearly harmful. For Russia and its ally, the lack of a “default” label by a key player in the Western financial infrastructure looks oddly protective. It also makes a mockery of the fact that sanctions are meant to constrain the inflow of funds to Russia and its allies instead of limiting their outflow and reducing the resources available to Russia and its allies to pursue an unjust war.

How should Western policymakers respond to these challenges? Firstly, by looking at the existing playbook for economic war, and treating as many claims as standard defaults and bankruptcies as possible. Secondly, by recognizing that the “international rules-based order” is in fact largely a set of established norms, particularly when it comes to creditor disputes, and that Russia has spent at least the last decade seeking to undermine these—beginning with its attempt to muck up Ukraine’s restructuring in 2014, something that continues to wind its way through the English courts.

That is the least that can be done to protect Western interests, free up more funds for Ukraine, and defang the Kremlin’s attempts to weaponize international law and institutions.

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