#AND HE BROKE THE CAPTAIN CURSE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanakiras · 4 months

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IN THE DARK CORNERS

PAIRING — kim mingyu x reader | choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

SYNOPSIS — mingyu used to be your lover. now he has to watch from the sidelines as you’ve moved on to someone else.

TAGS — once again a college au, fem!reader, jealousy, explicit sexual content, voyeurism, pretty much just porn with no plot, semi-public sex, dom!cheol, read at ur own risk !!

mingyu would overall consider himself to be a smart guy.

he never needs to put a lot of effort into his classes to pass them, he’s quick-witted and pays attention to detail. everyone around him has always praised him for his intelligence.

but right now, he feels stupid. he has for a while at this point.

his jaw is clenched as he leans against the wall with a cup of beer in hand. normally he very much enjoys the parties hosted by his friends — today is a different case.

it’s not just anything that’s making him feel this way.

at the other side of the crowded, warm room stands his former teammate choi seungcheol. he was their team captain up until last year, having to resign from the position after suffering a leg injury, and he apparently hasn’t felt the need to return to the football team yet despite his leg being all healed up.

choi seungcheol is a nice guy. he can also be real damn scary if he wants to be.

he’s about two years older than him. mingyu found he was always easy to get along with — until two days ago, when he discovered you out of all people had started dating him.

you. his ex-girlfriend. you broke up with him a while back after a fight he honestly can’t even remember the words nor the cause of. it was bullshit. something that shouldn’t have happened but did.

somehow, he’d let you slip through his fingers. like many people, he failed to realize what he had until it was gone. failed to see the signs he was supposed to see until it was too late. he feels stupid because he’s always so fucking smart — until the one time he wasn’t.

he tried to get you back. you wouldn’t let him.

now all he can do is stare at you from the other side of the room and watch you kiss a guy that isn’t him. you’re all over him, sitting on his thigh, and he’s constantly got his hands on you, arm looped around your waist, fingers rubbing your clothed skin.

wonwoo suddenly comes up to him, nudging him in the side. “are you trying to kill the guy by looking at him?”

“hm?”

“seungcheol. green with envy much?”

mingyu shrugs. “maybe.”

“well, you’d probably be smart to make it less obvious,” wonwoo remarks before leaving, “for your own sake.”

the words leave a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. he wishes he could just stop looking at the two of you, wishes he could just stop thinking about it for a damn second.

he’s certainly not a lightweight, but even he suffers the consequences of taking too much alcohol. his head feels fizzy, and he loses focus for a second, only to realize you and your boyfriend are gone from your places by the couch.

looking around frantically, he suddenly catches the glimpse of the little red dress you’re wearing at the other side of the room — you’re going upstairs with him.

and he finds himself desperately eager to follow you. that’d be so wrong though, wouldn’t it? he’s not some stalker, obviously. he just wants to check things out.

or so he convinces himself.

his brain is against it, his heart has other plans.

his legs seem to have their own will. before he can stop himself, he’s walking up the stairs, cursing to himself when the hallway is somewhat empty — until he hears the noise of something clattering onto the floor two rooms further.

taking a few steps into the direction of where the sound came from, he briefly looks behind him to check whether anyone’s there, proceeding when there isn’t.

the moment he pushes the door open just a bit further, he spies the office supplies carelessly thrown on the floor, his ears catching onto the familiar sound of your soft laughter.

he takes a step forward, detecting motion at the other side of the bookcase. he’s able to hide right behind it, watching you lie down on the wooden surface from the open cracks of the shelves.

the tight dress on your body is hiked up by your boyfriend as his hands roam all over your body, the sounds of your shared kisses making mingyu feel warm, his cheeks flushing, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

he knows how much you love a good make-out session — he also knows you like to speed things up a little when you need to be touched.

he’s frozen in his spot behind the bookcase when he hears you let out those needy whimpers that would turn any man on like crazy.

“shit—i should probably be quiet.” you giggle with your hand half over your mouth while cheol has you pinned underneath him, right on top of the desk.

“i’d love to see you try.” he mutters to you, fingers already hooking on the fabric of your matching lacy, red panties.

the worst part is that mingyu remembers that pair — one of his favorites. you look stunning in that little red set.

but your new boyfriend doesn’t appear to be paying that much attention to your lingerie. you’re both panting, all hot and heavy, clearly not in the mood to take things slow right now.

he sinks down to his knees on the floor, fingers harshly digging into your thighs as he spreads your legs to give him the access he wants, and you so eagerly let him.

“so gorgeous, baby.” cheol whispers to you before burying his lips and nose into the wetness pooling between your legs.

mingyu feels himself growing harder when he hears you cry out, your back arching off the cold desk, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

with your dress pushed up to your upper chest and your panties discarded on the floor, you gasp for air, fingers pulling on his dark strands of hair. you won’t last long if he keeps this up.

the first loud noise escapes you when he suddenly slips his finger into you. “cheol!”

the man between your legs shows his disapproval. “c’mon, baby, keep quiet for me. you want me to keep going, right?”

“yeah, yeah—” you nod almost desperately, “—‘m sorry.”

he cocks his head as if to say, that’s what i thought.

sly fucker.

he’s got you in the palm of his hand though — especially when he dives right back in, eager to see you fall apart while pumping his fingers in and out of you.

mingyu is so lost in the sight that his hand travels down to his belt buckle almost automatically. he’s so rock-hard in his pants that he could cry.

it doesn’t take cheol long to get you so worked up that you’re about to cum — which is exactly when you beg for him to fuck you instead, claiming you just need him inside you.

and your boyfriend happily obliges.

with your legs hoisted over his shoulders, he hovers above your body, watching the way you gasp and whimper when he pushes himself inside you.

“so full, cheol—” you moan once he’s nearly balls deep inside you, biting your lip to keep the noise down.

“you can take a little more though, can’t you, sweetheart?” your boyfriend asks teasingly, the subtle mocking undertone making you shiver. you love it when he’s all dominant and cocky like this, and you love to play into it.

a lazy smile appears on your face. “depends on how hard you give it to me.”

he smirks, biting his plump lip as he picks up the pace. you hold onto him, relishing in the sound of his moans by your ear.

“always so greedy,” cheol muses, eyes shining as he scans your figure, “always wanting more.” he pushes into you with the last syllable, unable to hold down a grin at how breathlessly you gasp.

oh, the guy gives it to you good. something you absolutely deserve — mingyu just wishes it was him giving it to you instead.

he hates it. he hates how pretty you look in his arms, under him. he hates how you both look so fucking perfect. he hates how dirty and perverted he feels.

he hates that the thrill of possibly getting caught makes him harder.

he watches as seungcheol takes you fast and hard, his hand pumping his own cock at the same pace. your body welcomes the muttered sentences of praise; pulling his body as close as physically possible, spreading your legs a little wider, fingers digging into his back a little deeper.

mingyu knows you love your praise just as much as a bit of force, and your boyfriend seems to know it too. he leaves red marks over your body, sucking at your skin, pulling out for a moment to shove his fingers back in instead.

you’re a whiny, moaning mess as three of his long fingers pump in and out of you. “thought i told you to keep it down.”

“fuck—just feels so good, cheol—”

“i know, pretty girl. you’re doing so good.”

god, you’re just so engulfed in your need to be filled up that you’re willing to do anything for the man currently in between your legs, and he fucking knows it.

mingyu is obsessed with the way your cunt sucks in his fingers so easily. he can literally hear how wet you are — cheol’s quick fingers are squelching into your heat, thumb circling over your clit until all you can do is make sweet sounds into his mouth.

it all gets too much, and your hand reaches down to take a hold of his wrist, but his movements don’t falter. it takes less than a minute before you cum on his fingers, desperately clinging onto him. sharp overstimulation hits your body when he pushes his cock into you again, not allowing you to come down from your high.

the feeling makes you go insane. you clench on him as a reflex, and he groans in response because you’re just so damn tight, almost suffocating him.

his big hands are grabbing your waist, basking in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. you notice through your bliss that he’s getting more desperate, movement more erratic, kisses sloppier, breathing heavier — how you love seeing him fall apart.

“takin’ me so well.” he smiles, biting his lip as you rake your nails over his abdomen.

“mhm. ‘s all for you, baby.”

he physically can’t not cherish the way you gaze at him so lovingly while getting your back blown out. if anything, it’s a talent. “yeah? such a good girl for me.”

you capture his lips in another kiss, one that’s a little sweeter than before. his hair is soft, the roots of his strands a bit damp from the sweat, but you don’t care.

you’re mewling in your spot on the desk, every other thought you ever had thrown out the window. all you can focus on is cheol fucking you like his life depends on it.

his chest is then pressed up against yours, his one hand on the back of your head, holding you still and close while he gives you hard and deep strokes.

“shit.” he curses, getting closer now that you’re tightening up more.

he’s reaching down to touch your clit again, rubbing the sensitive spot, causing you to buck your hips against his.

“cum with me, cheol.” you beg him, your sharp nails digging into his shoulder blades, which always works well on him — it makes him so utterly weak.

it brings mingyu just as close to his release. he’s so lost in his lust that it almost feels like you’re saying the words to him and not seungcheol, so he lets his back rest against the wall as he gets himself off at the pleasure of watching you.

“i’m so close, baby.” cheol mutters, his thick brows knitting together once he throws his head back in pleasure.

your body shakes as you come undone underneath him, your arms wrapped around his back. your boyfriend can’t hold back any longer when he feels you hit your peak — his hips stutter, eyes squeezed shut as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his moans.

your secret spectator has to cover his mouth to avoid making any noise. his balls are tightening, sweat beading at the nape of his neck right before he pathetically cums in his pants, some of his release dripping on the floor.

his own chest still heaves as his eyes find the little drops of sweat rolling down cheol’s back, his eyes moving down to the sight of your boyfriend pulling out of you, leaving a trail of his cum seeping out of your pussy.

the sight is enough to make him hard again.

you’re panting in your place on top of the desk, still coming down from your high before your boyfriend speaks up — but his words aren’t directed at you.

“did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

mingyu’s heart drops in his chest. shit, was it that obvious? he thought he did a good job at being relatively quiet.

now he’s left with two options of what to do next. either he owns up to it or gets the fuck out of here.

and he thinks to himself, fuck it. not like the situation could get any worse anyways.

so he steps forward, into the light.

thanks for reading! let me know if u liked it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

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singswan-springswan · 2 months

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ficlet under the cut

The crate tipped with a sudden lurch and broke open on the ground. Zuko spilled unceremoniously with the motion. Inelegant. Graceless. Normally his movements held much more regality, but he'd been kidnapped and stuffed in a scratchy box and out of the water for some indeterminable length of days, so cutting himself some slack here felt appropriate.

It wasn't much brighter outside the stupid box. His scales were dry, his head was killing him, and the floor held a pleasant cool against his mounting fever. He really needed water soon. Every part of his body felt... scratchy. Discomfort would escalate into pain, and then asphyxiation. He would suffocate if he dried out. Idly, he wondered how long it would take. The humans seemed to know. They hadn't acted worried yet.

"Our latest bounty." The voice looming over Zuko was muffled in weird places. "I thought it might spark an interest. You collect fire fish, isn't that right?"

Zuko bit down a hazy groan and fumbled to prop himself up. The loss of the tile's cool against his cheek was one he mourned, but there would be time for relaxing when he found a way out of this mess. He could barely think straight. The humans—the pirates who'd ransomed him from the girl in blue—were standing guard around him now. He could see their boots. They were facing all the same direction, same way the voice was talking towards, and Zuko turned to observe.

The surrounding space was large, a room, and very dimly lit. This wouldn't normally be an issue, being that he was a mer, but his headache made his eyes lazy and bad at adjusting to the dark. If he squinted, he could see the ripple of light along the walls. Blue. Weird. In the direction of the pirates' attention, something like the outline of a table was visible—as large and imposing as the room itself. A single shadowy figure occupied a seat on the far side. He looked weird with the backlight. Zuko's vision was getting spotty.

He didn't get much chance to scan the rest of the surrounding space, because the pirate captain decided to be a jerk and grab his hair. It'd long since escaped its neat topknot, now bunching and sliding strangely in dry heat. The pain and the change in angle made Zuko rapidly lose sight of the shadow man.

"This one's quite a specimen." The pirate tilted Zuko's head back, baring his throat—maybe as a joke; it was always hard to tell if humans knew the significance of such a display—and lifted him enough to catch the light. So their potential buyer could get a better view.

Zuko would like to rip the pirate's skin off and feed it to him, but he was weak with dehydration, and his previous struggles against the man's crew had left him exhausted. All he managed was a low hiss. If humans could understand mer speech, he’d be cursing them as soundly as possible. Someone was standing on his tail. Not that it made much difference. He doubted he could have swung it if it wasn't pinned.

"I've seen a lot of the fire mer in my day, but this one's real pretty. Don't feel bad turning the offer down. We'll keep 'im if you won't." His crew laughed. Bastards. Zuko could hear the leer in the pirate's voice. It made him dizzy with anger.

Then a low grind echoed softly, and the humans cut their chatter short. Zuko distantly registered the shadow at the table moving. What made that noise? Was it his chair? He stood, rounded the massive table, and drew closer. All Zuko could see was a dark, unfocused blob. Vaguely humanoid.

"Yeah, don't be shy! Come get a closer look!"

The fist in his hair tightened. His scalp burned. The fins all down his back shuttered, and a stinging ache began to form in his gills. He needed water. He needed to get out of here. He shouldn't have wandered so close to the shore, even if that pretty girl in blue seemed so friendly at first glance. She did sell him out to these pirate scum. He should have known way better.

Even standing an arm's length away, the lighting continued to cast shadow on the pirate's potential client. It could be reasoned, then, that Zuko and the humans around him were washed in the room's best luminance. Certainly his scar could be seen clear as day. Maybe his tail was pretty, but there were parts of him imperfect. Maybe the stranger wouldn't want to buy him for that. Maybe Zuko would be stuck with these idiot pirates forever.

A smooth voice came from the stranger. "Release him."

"Sure, sure."

The pressure on Zuko's scalp vanished. He collapsed to the cool tile with no more grace than before, even further disoriented, and with a worse headache. He grit his teeth in frustration. That bastard was still on his tail.

Cool fingers tilted his chin up before he could lift his head on his own again; he hadn't seen the shadow man crouch down. Startled, Zuko yanked back and hissed a second time. He made sure to reveal far more fang and fan far wider with his fins; he just wanted these stupid humans to stop poking and grabbing him however often they pleased. Was that too much to ask? He wasn't an ornament. And he sure as heck had no intention of being a pet.

The stranger's face was close, and shadowy, and out of focus. Zuko's head was killing him. The room spun.

"The shape of the fins—” The stranger’s voice began.

“Really something, isn’t it? Never seen a mer so fancy before.”

There was a beat of silence, then the cool fingers returned to Zuko’s jaw and held him firmly in place. He growled. It didn’t make a difference. He was exhausted and hot and vulnerable, and everyone could tell. There was no way to stop them from doing as they pleased.

“There’s a scar.”

“Wasn’t us, mate. Looks like the beast’s had it for a while. I think it adds to the aesthetic, don’t you agree?”

Zuko glared. It was the sort of one-sided remark he’d only accept from Uncle Iroh, though Azula had made attempts to express similar sentiments in that weird way of hers. He’d always hated the scar. At least the monster who put it there was dead now.

The stranger gave no comment. He reached another hand out and pushed Zuko’s hair aside, away from his eyes. Zuko did his best to meet the unfamiliar gaze as steadily as possible, despite the awkward backlight. He was being stared at. He refused to show how unnerved it made him. His trembling and fever didn’t help much in that regard.

Finally, after a dreadful length of scrutiny, the shadow man spoke. “How much do you want for him?”

Zuko could hear teeth in the pirate’s smile. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Ten-thousand.”

Zuko didn’t know how humans calculated their currency. He’d assumed mer in general to be expensive, but they called him a stupid something fire fish, and it sounded like exotic. Even so, the pirate captain seemed shocked. He let out a high chuckle.

“Well! Show me the gold and you’ve got yourself a deal!”

The stranger waved an uninterested hand over his shoulder, and another grinding sound reverberated through the floor. Zuko couldn’t see the source of the sound with multiple different shadows clouding his vision. Judging by the pirates’ hushed tithering, their payment had been offered.

“Excellent! Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“Zaheera will see you out.”

The group broke formation around Zuko and floated away, whispering excitedly. Though they’d been awful to him, he couldn’t help a flicker of fear at their absence. At least with the pirates, he knew they’d avoid causing permanent damage. He knew they’d want to sell him for the highest price possible. Now, he had no idea what to expect. This stranger could have any number of sinister plans in mind; Zuko had certainly heard the horror stories. All young mer were warned about the brutality of humans, and now he was at the mercy of someone who really wanted him. This was bad.

The stranger let him go, and the world tilted as Zuko crumpled. He was very dizzy. And angry. And he really wanted to sink his fangs into human flesh.

But when he turned (against his better judgment) to snap at his new captor, a firm hand was already pushing down the back of his neck. The same way one might handle an unruly pup. Zuko was too tired to be insulted by the gesture. He wasn’t a pup anymore, but a move like that with the human’s advantage was enough to subdue even a full-grown mer.

“Watch out with that one!” The pirate’s faint voice called back. “Quite a monster at full strength. He killed two of my men when we—”

“Get out.”

The heavy thud of the door confirmed their absence, though the human didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He ducked another snap of Zuko’s teeth, and ignored his crackly snarl, and slid his arms beneath scratchy scales. The world tilted again. Zuko would consider puking if he wasn’t so close to blacking out. The human was carrying him. Impressive. Zuko was heavy outside the water. His fins trailed the floor as they moved, but he was very much in the air, solidly in the man’s grip. Almost cradled, even if he was too big for the pup-hold to have effect a second time. The use of such familiar techniques should have rung a bell in his mind. Zuko’s headache and exhaustion wouldn’t let him dwell on it.

After a dizzying stretch, something wonderful happened. Zuko heard water. The noise was still muffled, and it faltered clarity with every stray tilt of his head, but Zuko knew what water sounded like. He’d been fantasizing about it for the past few days.

There was a splash, and with distant elation, he felt his fins trail. He wasn’t lucid enough to hold back the happy trill.

“I know.” The man huffed, and it rumbled through his chest. “I know—those bastards.”

The water rushed up around him, deliciously cool, salty, clean. It took Zuko up to his gills to realize he’d been lowered into a pool of some kind. It was shallow, but not cramped. He drew a deep breath. That felt very nice. The hands were gone.

He didn’t bother confirming he was alone before passing out soundly.

<~><><~>

Zuko was alone when he came to, and his headache had finally retreated to the realm of faint discomfort. Incredible what a good long sleep in water could do for one’s health. The pirates hadn’t put him in a tank. They were mad about what a fuss he caused the first time they brought him aboard, and they’d rightly concluded he’d be easier to handle if he was dehydrated and exhausted and dizzy. They’d doused him with lukewarm buckets every few hours, just to keep him from dying. Zuko was relieved to be back in water now. Even if trepidation about the uncertainty of his new circumstances wouldn’t let him relax.

The pool he’d been placed in was shallow; he couldn’t move without some part of his tail skimming the surface. It was still comfortable in spite of that. The edges spanned a decent length, so he could turn with ease, and the basin interior was cut from smooth, white stone. His fins shone stark against it. The pool itself seemed to be laid into the ground, flush.

Zuko scanned his surroundings while he waited for something to happen. He still seemed to be indoors. The walls here weren’t as high as the one from before—from the sale pitch—and most of them were made of a clear material. It shone with sunlight from outside. The rest of the space was occupied by greenery. The taller ones reaching the ceiling had been planted in beds in the ground, surrounded at the base with bushy, leafy shrubs, and brilliant flowers, and crawling vines. The faint sound of water also trickled through the maze, but Zuko couldn’t see the source of it from where he was. It was peaceful. Uncle would love this place.

But Zuko hadn’t forgotten how he ended up here, and he had no illusions about being treated fairly, even if he’d been left undisturbed in such a pleasant area. He had to keep his guard up. He was being held against his will. He was trapped on land with no way to escape or get home. He didn’t have much experience with humans, but so far they’d only beaten him, used him, or treated him like a pretty ornamental object, and he had no reason to believe this behavior would change soon. He had to be prepared for the worst.

In truth, he really wanted to murder someone. The urge had become so intense during his captivity with the pirates, and he hadn’t had a real outlet, being close to dying of dehydration. Now that he was rested, his jaw nearly ached to bite through bone.

He spent the time waiting for an opportunity by pacing around the pool. The space didn’t allow for much more than tight circles. Still, it was better than sitting around stewing in all his problems.

Mother was probably worried by now. Him being an adult with a life of his own didn’t stop her from worrying that he wasn’t home every day. Azula didn’t feel the same. Azula would kill for him though; she’d done it before.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour of thinking to himself and going crazy for it, the faintest vibrations thrummed through the water, and Zuko froze. Footsteps. Someone was approaching.

He lifted his head above the surface. The sound drew closer, brushing through the plants with a practiced gait. Zuko coiled his body. There was deliberation in the person’s movement. They knew he was here. They were coming to see him. The likelihood that he’d be attacking an innocent servant or something alike was low, and that brought him a hint of reassurance.

When the human came into view, bathed in green filtered sunlight, stepping out to the pool’s edge, Zuko took an entire second to appraise the figure. Tall. Male. Dark hair, luxurious silk robes in green and pale yellow. When he spoke, it was the same smooth voice from the shadowy stranger that paid for him.

“Hello.”

Zuko didn’t wait any longer. He launched himself at the human with a vicious snarl. His vision was red. His heart was pounding. How dare they treat him with such contempt? He wasn’t some prized bounty. He wasn’t an ornament for some rich knave’s garden. He wouldn’t take this insult and abuse lying down, and if these humans continued to assume so, they were in for a shock.

To some degree of satisfaction, the man did seem shocked to be bowled over. The air left his lungs in a massive wheeze, and his eyes went very wide. He was also—however—quick. He reflexively shoved Zuko’s head away when Zuko tried to bite, and he managed to lurch free enough to dodge an elbow to the face.

“Wait!” The man yelped.

But Zuko had a size advantage, and the man was on his back, and Zuko really wanted him dead. He slammed his shoulders into the grass, pinned his legs with his tail, made another attempt to remove the throat with his teeth. This time, the man brought his arm up in a hasty block. Zuko was too busy biting down to be upset he’d missed his target. Blood and the creak of bone filled his mouth.

There was a shout of pain. “Wait wait—Zuko, stop!”

The words pierced his hazy red anger like ice through fresh snow. Zuko froze. Even being slightly feral at the taste of blood and festered indignation, he rapidly came to his senses and dropped the arm. His mind spun.

How did this man know his name? The pirates didn’t know. The pretty girl in blue didn’t know. And he wouldn’t be able to tell them if he wanted to (which he very much had not). It wasn’t a lucky guess. No one shared his name that he’d ever met. So why—how could a random human—

“Get off!” The human fumbled to shove Zuko’s face away. His sleeve was ruined, and rapidly turning red.

Zuko slowly obliged. The man didn’t seem angry. He only seemed annoyed, even as he bled profusely from an arm that might be broken. There was something unnervingly familiar about the twist of his scowl. He shuffled sideways and sat up.

“Spirits, kid, you’ve got a strong jaw.”

“I’m not—” Zuko cut himself off before he could complete the retort. The human wouldn’t understand him. The human knew he wasn’t a kid. Zuko was very obviously a full grown mer.

“You could have let me explain myself before trying to kill me.” Why did his scowl look so familiar? The man untied a sash of his fancy outfit and wrapped his arm with clinical efficiency. Then he looked up to meet Zuko’s eye, and his scowl faltered. “Are you okay?”

What.

Zuko stared. Was he seriously… asking if Zuko was okay? There was blood in the grass and in his robes and he might have a concussion and his ribs might be bruised and Zuko would at worst have a sore jaw. He shifted back warily. In his experience, crazy men often did cruel things.

When he made no move to respond, the man sighed roughly and looked away. “Guess I should have waited on that tea. Zaheera will be by with some shortly.”

“What?”

What on earth was he talking about? Tea? Of all things? How did he know Zuko’s name and why was he so relaxed about the bite on his arm and why did the slope of his nose look so familiar and why was he talking about tea in the blood and the grass?

“You were always more civil with it around.”

Okay, now Zuko was thoroughly weirded out. He wished he had an exit. An escape route. He was stuck on land in an unfamiliar house and the closest thing he had to sanctuary was a fake pool of water barely deep enough to sleep in. This was freaking him out just the slightest.

“You’re nuts.” He said. Just to say it. The man wouldn’t understand the words or the insult in them, but Zuko was sick of just sitting around not saying anything, waiting for stupid humans to come to the right conclusions.

For his effort, he was rewarded with the faintest thaw of the man’s grumpy expression. It looked amused somehow. “And why is that?” He asked.

What.

A trace of alarm made Zuko flinch. “...Because you’re… talking to me.” He probed. Just to see. Humans weren’t supposed to understand.

“Why would that make me crazy? You’re real, aren’t you?” He glanced at his sleeve, now mostly red. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

Zuko blanched. He considered backing away, back into the pool. The safety it offered was purely psychological, but it would be something at least. It’d be better than lying vulnerable on the ground next to a crazy person. His fins twitched.

“What—but—you understand me?”

“Of course.”

“But humans aren’t supposed to understand.” From what he’d heard, humans interpreted mer speech as primitive and animalistic: nothing more than a series of harsh vocalizations strung together. Zuko had demanded an explanation for the phenomenon when he was younger. After all, mer understood human speech just fine. No one was able to give him a satisfactory answer.

“Well, I’m not human.” The human said. “Technically.”

“Then what are you?” Possibly a witch? Zuko had heard of their strange abilities. Or maybe he was a spirit. In which case Zuko was screwed. He probably couldn’t get away with attempted murder on a spirit; he’d totally be cursed or something. It could also be a shapeshifter of sorts, from the myths.

But the man quickly dispelled any outlandish theories. For the first time that Zuko had seen, a flicker of hurt crossed his features. It made him look older than he likely was. Haunted.

“Wow Zuzu, you don’t remember your favorite cousin?”

No.

No, he definitely didn’t mean that. Zuko didn’t have any cousins. Not for eleven years. And there’d only been—one. Just one. Now there weren’t any.

But looking closer, Zuko could see why the scowl looked so familiar. He saw the same face in the mirror. And this man wasn’t human, clearly, even if he had legs in place of a red streaming tail. In place of the gold ribbon fins their family shared—that he must have recognized when he first saw Zuko.

He knew Zuko’s name. Zuzu. Azula tried to call him that—maybe out of nostalgia—but it belonged to them both, and Zuko hated to hear her say it because there was only one person who tried to bring them together like that, and hearing her say it reminded him of… of… a dead man.

Except he couldn’t be dead. He was right here. His blood tasted very real.

“Lu Ten?”

He looked so much like his father when he smiled. “Yeah.”

Zuko gaped. That felt like the only appropriate thing to do. Maybe the dehydration actually got to him, and this whole series of events was an elaborate hallucination. Maybe Azula spiked his tea with a psychedelic for her weird sense of humor, and he was hallucinating. It was too strange. This didn’t make any sense. Zuko’s cousin was dead, and if he wasn’t, wouldn’t Uncle know? Would Uncle have cried so hard so many private times if this was real? It felt so real.

“How did you get that scar?”

“How are you not dead?” Zuko’s head was spinning, though thankfully not from dehydration. He wasn’t sure if this was worse, actually. “Uncle thinks you’re dead.”

The comment earned him a flinch. “There’s actually a good explanation for that.”

“Which is?”

“I’m cursed.” Lu Ten squinted into the middle distance, looking uncomfortably close to being emotional. “To live as a human. And I can’t… go near the sea. I tried. It almost turned me into sea foam.”

Zuko dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

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the-californicationist · 1 month

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Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted.

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was.

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush.

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you.

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure.

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve.

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy.

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day.

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night.

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch.

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign.

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.”

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face.

You pitied him, winking cheekily,

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action.

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it.

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought.

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future.

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it.

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds.

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have.

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you.

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own.

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution.

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin.

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge,

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment.

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance,

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock.

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh.

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further.

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss.

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure.

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center.

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot.

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you.

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly.

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again.

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together.

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks,

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy.

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull.

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize.

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white.

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone,

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup.

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be.

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual.

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples,

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more.

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall.

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good.

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #john price #cod #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #john price smut #captain price mw2 #oh captain my captain

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fiapartridge · 5 months

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♡ how you get the girl | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: after you walk out on quinn, he realizes he made the biggest mistake of his life, leading him to your doorstep. wet, soppy, and begging for forgiveness.

warning(s): cursing, kissing and grinding and stuff leading to sex but no actual sex described??? idk it just gets heated, angst but there is a happy ending!!!! <33333

author's note 💌: i love writing for quinn. he's my fave. anyways, i got a request to do a part two to the "you're losing me" imagine so! hope u enjoy!

read part one here !!

YOU LEFT HIM. And for a moment, the longest moment of his life, it felt like Quinn’s heart stopped beating. It felt like a wake-up call.

Ever since becoming captain, his focus shifted. His eyes grew tired, waking up before you had the chance to pepper him with kisses in the morning. His arms felt sluggish, coming home later and later, trying to perfect his performance, trying to be a good captain for the team, trying to be the person they needed after a terrible, horrific season. He was trying so hard to be what they needed that he forgot about the most important person in his life, and what she needed.

The second you walked out the door, he knew he fucked up. He knew he should’ve called out for you, or kissed you before you had the chance to break up with him and end it all, or promise to be there, to be what you needed. But that argument—it felt like the end. He hadn't lost you in that moment; you had been slipping away for much longer.

“Hey, where’s Y/N going?” Brock drunkenly draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder, watching him watch the door like you were going to come back and rush into his arms, saying that it was all a huge mistake; that you didn’t mean what you said; that you didn’t care that Quinn had made no time for you in the months he became captain. But that’s not who you are. When you say something, you mean it.

“I fucked up,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe that it was true.

Brock’s brows raised, his words a bit slurred but still comprehensive. He pouted. “What did Captain Huggy do now?”

“She asked me if I wanted to marry her.”

Brock released a breath as if gaining his sobriety. “Oh shit. What’d you say?”

Quinn gulped, not believing the words he was gonna say. Of course he wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would give up anything to be with you, even hockey. And he should’ve said it, he knows he should’ve said it. But would you even believe him if he did? He hasn’t spent a waking minute with you for the past three months. You don’t do that to someone you love. “I said no.”

“What did you want to say?”

Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to think about his answer. “That I would marry her in a heartbeat. That I fucked up and I don’t even know how to fix it.” That when he’s asleep, you’re the only thing he sees in his dreams; that when he’s at practice, and he sees his teammates with their wives and kids, he wonders what it would be like for you to be there, your child on your lap, cheering him on from the stands; that he knows he’s been neglecting you, but he just felt like you would always be there, even if he stopped paying attention.

“So what’re you gonna do?”

Walking back into the party, Quinn scrambled to find his car keys, ignoring the questions of where he’s going and if he’ll return because, for once, he didn’t care about what they thought about him. All he thought about was making it up to you and getting you back.

After fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he finally made it to your apartment. He knew you would be here instead of his, but it broke his heart nonetheless. You always said that you hated being here. It felt cold and lonely in contrast to Quinn’s, but after these past couple months, neither apartment felt like home.

It was raining outside as he paced outside your apartment complex, trying to come up with the right words, not wanting to say something that’ll upset you further. His suit was wet, his hair shaggy, and his new white socks a squishy mess. You deserved more than him, he thought. You deserved so much better. Someone that would actually be there for you and love you and take care of you. That wasn’t Quinn; it was never going to be Quinn, but the least he could do was try.

Knocking on your door, Quinn shook from the rain, and maybe also from a little bit of fear. As terrible as it sounds, he knew you still loved him, but he was worried that that part of your heart was growing smaller and smaller by the second.

Opening your door, you saw the wet mop on his head and his flustery red cheeks. He was standing in a puddle of rainwater and his hands were trembling. You wanted to hold them, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and warm him up. Swaddle him in a fuzzy blanket, cuddle him, and never let go, but you were also pissed as hell. Why was he standing here? Did he want to rub it in some more? That the only guy you’ve ever truly loved, that you ever actually considered marrying, doesn’t want you? That’s just messed up.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, anger still laced in your tone. But you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. You wanted to push it down, but the longer you looked at Quinn and his sad stupid eyes, you resisted it a little less.

“I was afraid,” he muttered, a little less than a whisper.

You rolled your eyes. You’ve been together for years, and he was afraid to tell you he loves you? That he sees a future with you? That he could maybe possibly want to marry you?

Not wanting to hear his excuses, you held your hand on the wood, attempting to close the door as he held it open, a plea in his eyes—please hear me out. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be what you needed. You shouldn’t marry me. You deserve so much more than me, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “And that’s supposed to be your decision? I get to decide who and what I deserve, not you.” Tearing your eyes from him, Quinn felt his heart plummeting even faster. He can’t lose you. “You know, maybe you were right, Quinn. Maybe we don’t have a future together.”

Was he dying? Was Quinn dying? Is this what death felt like? He felt like he was dying. Everything was going wrong. He was wet, you two weren’t back together yet, and somehow you are even more mad at him than before he came.

Just be honest, his mind screamed.

“I thought that I needed to be what everyone else needed,” he said, staring at the puddle of rain he tracked in. “I needed to be a good captain, I needed to be a good player for the fans and for the organization, I needed to be good for my family, but I forgot about you and what you needed.”

“You don’t need to be on for me, Quinn!” you shouted, not caring for your neighbors that could probably hear from down the hall or the people walking past your guys’ melodramatic scene. “If you just told me how you felt, I would’ve been there! I would’ve been there for you!” your eyes were stinging, sparkling with unshed tears. “But you pushed me aside like I was nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “I think you should go-”

“I’ve thought about marrying you since the moment I met you. Since the moment you met my family and you couldn’t care less that Jack had no idea what personal space was, and that Luke was in love with you so he always asked to sit next to you at dinner. And how invasive my parents were and my grandma giving you those crazy ten-minute-long hugs and always asking you when you were going to give her grandchildren. I’ve thought about marrying you since our first date when I got whipped cream on my nose from the funnel cake we shared and you licked it off even though it was our first date, and I thought ‘this girl is crazy and I think I’m in love with her.’ I’ve thought about marrying you every time we went to a wedding together, not even caring about the actual ceremony because I was imaging it was you and I walking down that aisle and you would start crying during your vows but you’d somehow also sneak in some sort of joke about me balding soon that would get everyone laughing and I would somehow fall more and more in love with you than I was before.

Quinn walked closer, you let him. “Believe me, I want to marry you, Y/N. I would do it right now if I could.”

“So why-”

“I saw you pulling away. I knew I was losing you. I knew that hockey and my life and everything going on right now was hard, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with it if we got married. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me.”

You breathed out shakily, not expecting…any of that. “I don’t care if you go on roadies every other week, bring me with you. I don’t care if you have a bruised eye or a missing tooth, I’ll be there with an ice pack. If you have to practice from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, wake me up and I’ll be there with snacks! If the Canucks tank this entire season or they win every single game, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about any of it," you shook your head. "I only care about you.

You held his wet cheeks, his eyes closing against your warm palms. “I’m not stuck with you,” you whispered against his lips. Planting a soft kiss, you felt him chasing your lips as you pulled back. “I want to be with you forever. But what do you want?”

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think. “I want you, Y/N. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and do everything with you. I just- I want you.”

Standing on your toes, you pulled Quinn into a kiss, his lips quickly closing the distance. He melted into your body, his hands finding themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt, wrapping his arms around your torso as if you were going to dissipate into a clear mist.

As you backed into the apartment, Quinn kicked the door shut, sealing the world outside. With the living room dimly lit, you found yourselves on the couch, pulled gently onto his lap, his hands exploring the curves of your body. “I love you,” he whispered, wanting to get closer, closer, so much closer.

Meeting his urgency, you grinded against his hard-on, licking his lips. “Yeah?”

He nodded profusely, already imagining you back at his apartment, where you were meant to be, in his bed, in his shirt, moaning his name. “Yeah.”

You smirked, lifting your shirt over your head, your lacy red bra being on full display. Quinn's eyes drank in the sight, his desire palpable in the air. “Show me how much.”

Quinn wasted no time, his hands finding the clasp of your bra, skillfully releasing the constraints. As the fabric fell away, his hands traced the contours of your skin, a silent vow to explore every inch. To kiss each mole and each dimple, and thank whatever godly entity led you to him.

"Wanna marry you," he moaned into your lips.

"You obsessed with me or something?" you smirked, giggling as he lifted you from the couch, carrying you to your bedroom.

"Something like that."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #i love quinn

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mlmshipbracket · 2 months

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ROUND 6: POLL #1 - Semifinals

ROUND 6 POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Siffrin/Isabeau:

I've put mid paragraph spoilers in || brackets || and paragraphs of spoilers make "spoilers ->"

I should mention that them having romantic feelings for each other is a partial spoiler?

What if. A silly little he/they guy. But! He's really messed up emotionally and mentally. Like. Constantly puts others first to his own detriment and calls himself manipulative kind of messed up. Also he's in a time loop. NOT a fun one. But! There's this jock in his party that he can joke with. And they looove making him smile! And! That jock is head over heels for our tiny hero. But! Neither of them can admit their feelings! ||Even if they know the feelings are mutual!!|| AND THE JOCK DOESN'T KNOW HE'S IN A TIME LOOP!!! AND LITTLE GUY WON'T TELL HIM! CAUSE THEY DON'T WANT HIM TO WORRY!!

I love them sooo much! They are my favorite he/they x ||trans masc|| couple <3

Siffrin is soooo insecure and I'm 100% sure Isa could fix him if he wanted to. They love telling each other just the worst puns and jokes imaginable.

[SPOILERS] -> Isa was a big nerd before he decided he wanted to be a huge jock and now he wants to design clothes now that he saved his county (along side his other friends)

Siff is just a little guy (literally)(he is short) who loves the stars abs doesn't remember a lot about his past. He constantly worries if he's being enough for the rest of his companions and always tries his best to make sure they're happy. He has soooo much trouble seeing value in himself and prioritizing his own needs and it makes me soooo sad :( he deserves to have someone like Isa.

[SPOILERS] -> Siff knows that Isa wants to confess after thier battle w the bbeg, but siff can't get Ida to say it no matter what they try :(

Eustass Kid/Killer:

Propaganda by @chronoirrai [HERE]

Friends/lovers since childhood, would kill and die for each other. [SPOILERS for those who have not watched/read the Wano arc yet] Killer ate a defective SMILE fruit to safe Kid, making him unable to swim and show any other emotion than laughing (and gains him nothing), and he also knew exactly where to cut off Hawkins' arm so he wouldn't harm Kid (because he knows his body so well). Kid promises to kill whoever makes fun of his partner, and lets himself be recaptured after escaping prison because Killer had gotten himself captured.

If this ain't love idk what is.

The captain/right-hand man dynamic. They call each other aibou (partner). If your partner doesn't tell you that he will send whoever laughs at you to hell then he is not worth it. Killer hates his own laugh to the point that he stopped laughing out loud and started wearing a mask. But then he was forced to eat a defective devil fruit (because they promised he could see Kidd if he did) so he's been cursed to only laugh no matter what emotion he's trying to express. That's why Kidd said that, it's so full of weight for someone like Killer. And when Kidd was imprisoned and he worked so hard to escape, but as soon as he saw Killer being pulled into the same prison he just broke out from mans did not hesitate for even a second to go right back in.

#isat siffrin #isat isabeau #siffrin/isabeau #isafrin #in stars and time #eustass kid #killer one piece #eustass kid/killer #kidkiller #one piece #tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2024 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2024 #fourthr6

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grandline-fics · 13 days

Note

Could i ask for a Law x FemReader with the “accidental kiss” prompt?, and if possible, could law have a crush on the reader if you decide to do this ask?

(Love your fics)

-anon

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Accidental Kiss

WARNINGS: Fluff

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,270

A/N: Hi there, thank you for this prompt based request. I hope you like what I came up with for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

The chatter among the crew at the breakfast table was as lively as ever. The meals on the Polar Tang were always savoured for everyone to connect and enjoy the time together before everyone resigned themselves away to take on their tasks for the day. You’d finished your meal but remained sitting, holding your mug of coffee close as you let the heat radiate into your hands, the thought of drinking it gone from your mind as you only focussed on your Captain. Your eyes remained on his and you smiled softly as you listened with keen interest before giving your input to the conversation with Law.

While other chatter sounded around you, the pair of you were unaware of the looks you were receiving. Penguin and Shachi were trying to hold back their smirks, Bepo and Ikkaku stared with dreamy expressions while the others looked at the scene before them completely baffled. All of them saw how obvious it was you and the Captain shared a deep connection and held even deeper feelings for each other. Why hadn’t either of you noticed or tried to act on those feelings before? In the crew’s eyes the two of you were already a couple in all but name and acknowledgement from you and Law.

When you finally brought your lips to you mug your gaze broke reluctantly from Law’s face and you caught sight of the time. As much as you could have easily spent the entire day talking to Law about anything and everything you knew your chores wouldn’t do themselves. With a sigh you finished your drink and began to rise, gathering the cleared plates and bowls close to you to take them to the sink. As you leant forward to reach for something just out of your grasp, Jean Bart spoke up to ask Law a question, causing him to turn his head. Then the chatter stopped instantly and the dining hall froze in its entirety, everyone taking in the sight of Law’s lips against yours.

You didn’t even know how it happened, your mind couldn’t register the odds of this kind of thing happening. One second you were reaching for a bowl, the next your Captain’s lips were against yours and you were unable to move and the look in Law’s eyes told you everything; it was an accident and he seemed just as bewildered by the situation as you were. You couldn’t hold back the heat bursting against your skin or silence the heavy hammering of your heart in your chest.

It felt like time had stopped when really the whole thing lasted a few seconds. You didn’t even know how either of you managed to find the strength to disengage but you did it. While Law quickly made his way to the safety of his study, away from the prying eyes and excited whispers. You however weren’t so privileged. You spent as long as possible standing at the sink, scrubbing the dishes for as long as you could, keeping your gaze on the water and not on the others of the crew you could feel were lingering in the room. When there was nothing else for you to clean you had no choice but to finally go to your assigned task for the day. Thankfully it was just you and Bepo doing the monthly stock check of the medical supplies which took most of the day and it was thankfully filled with silence due to complete concentration needing to be had.

However you knew Bepo’s lack of comment on the morning’s incident was too good to be true because when it came to delivering the updated stock numbers to Law, the damned bear was suddenly overcome with one of his stomachaches and needed to lie down immediately. You muttered curses over and over as you made your way to Law’s office. Briskly you knocked on his door and entered when he called for you to enter. At first you thought you could pretend that what had happened never happened but when you walked in and met his gaze you faltered. You couldn’t help but glance at his lips while tightly pressing your own into a tight line. Quickly you inwardly berated yourself for your juvenile reaction. With a sharp clearing of your throat you continued into his office. All you needed to do was give him the papers and leave, it was easy, you’d done it hundreds of times before.

“No Bepo?” Law asked, trying to find something, anything to speak about to delay talking about the kiss.

“Stomachache.” You explained, slipping the papers into his hand and then you paused. Normally you would stay and chat but if you did this time would he be thinking you were staying for something else? But if you left immediately then that would be out of character and would make him think something was wrong, that you didn’t want to be around him anymore which couldn’t be further from the truth. What if he wanted you to leave because of what happened? Your mind was spinning and you couldn’t see an answer anywhere. Finally through your thoughts Law’s voice saying your name made you focus. “Yes?” You answered immediately.

��Was he okay?” Law asked, never forgetting his role as a Doctor even though he knew the bear would be more than okay. He highly suspected this was an instance that the navigator was lying, still he had to check.

“You could offer to kiss him better.” Your joke came before your brain could stop you and you regretted it instantly, hands flying over your mouth as though you could force the words back. You always made jokes like this but given what had happened between you both this morning it just brought the memory and the feeling of his lips on yours flooding back. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” You rambled behind your hands.

You and Law stared at each other and finally he broke the silence and the tension by laughing, all but relieved that you were just as much as a mess as he was about it all. Seeing him laugh let you join in and it felt as though the weight on your shoulders and anxiety of that accidental kiss possibly ruining everything between you disappeared. It felt like how it normally did and you could breathe easier now. As the laughter eased away you caught your Captain staring at your lips just as you had his when you entered his office. “Permission to say as unexpected as it was, it was a nice kiss, Captain?”

“Permission granted.” Law smirked at you. “Though you must be easily pleased if that impressed you.”

“Wow you’re so arrogant.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I said it was nice, not that it blew my mind forever. I was just being kind.”

“Not arrogance if it’s fact.” Law replied smoothly as he rose from his seat to stand in front of you, his lips as close as possible without touching. “I can give you a real kiss now and ‘blow your mind forever’ as you phrased it?”

“You’re welcome to try, Captain.” You murmured, leaning your head back just a fraction and grinning in satisfaction to see him respond by leaning in again to maintain the infuriatingly close distance between you. There was a brief beat between you both before the space was closed and your lips met. You all but melted into Law’s touch and he was right. Compared to this kiss right now, what you’d shared in the dining room that morning was nothing but a happy accident.

------------------------------------------------

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece x you #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #law one piece #one piece law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar op

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bitchinbarzal · 3 months

Text

Runaway Groom | N Hischier

summary: Nico’s getting married and he thinks he’s got the wrong bride.

“He wants you there schatzi” Katya mumbled, sipping her coffee across from you.

You shook your head “Yes but she doesn’t… I’m ok just seeing the pictures after”

You watched her eyes drop and her mouth pull into a tight line “Y/N, we thought it would be you”

Your stomach sinks and you smile softly “Yeah… but it’s not and I’m ok with that. I want Nico to be happy”

His mom wanted to reply, tell you he’d be happy with you. That his smile isn’t as wide with her as it is with you.

But she didn’t. She just squeezed your hand.

Their wedding is all anyone was talking about the week before; the welcome drinks, the rehearsal dinner, the church, the party.

You were tired of hearing about them. They could go back to New Jersey now for your liking.

The night of the rehearsal dinner had you getting ready for the gym when your front door opened and you heard the familiar voice shouting

“Hallo?”

“Timo?” You yelled back, puzzled

“I’m here to pick you up!”

Your head pokes out of your bedroom “for what? Why are you wearing a suit?”

He looks puzzled “Nico and Rosie’s welcome dinner?”

You laughed “I’m not going to that”

“Why not?”

“Because i don’t want to? I’m sorry did everyone just forget that me and Nico are ex’s?”

Timo rolls his eyes, entering your bedroom and beginning to rake through your wardrobe, pulling out a dress.

You stumbled for a moment seeing it again, the dress you wore to Nico’s captain’s dinner. The team had thrown him a fancy dinner in the city to celebrate him becoming captain and you wore that red dress.

“Put this on, you’ve got five minutes” he informed, shoving the dress into your hands and walking out.

Before you walked out the house you looked at yourself in the mirror and huffed “It’s only two hours… two hours you got this!”

Nico’s family were elated to see you walk in the door, diverting their attention all to you.

You didn’t see him but Nico also diverted his attention to you, his grip on his soon to be wife’s hand slipping as he spotted you in that dress.

The last time he saw that dress it was on the floor of your bedroom.

Your eyes scanned the room, finally falling on him. You gave him a soft smile and he reciprocated until he noticed your hand placed firmly in Timo’s.

There was nothing there but he couldn’t help but feel his gut twist. He was getting married and thinking about you.

Throughout the night you were stopped by various teammates and their partners all expressing just how much they missed you.

“I always thought this would be you” Klara, Jonas’ wife comments and you can only give a tight smile

“Rosie is lovely, no?”

“She doesn’t know him like you… he’s not the same”

“Nico decided I wasn’t what he wanted” is all you could say before venturing off somewhere else.

You wanted to go home. You were tired of hearing about how it should be you.

That night when you arrived home, you checked your phone which you’d subsequently left on the nightstand after being rushed out the house.

Only one notification stood out. A text from Nico.

it meant a lot to see you tonight, take care of yourself schatzi.

Your thumb hovered over the text pad, considering a reply. You stared at the words so long you didn’t notice the tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Fuck, Neeks” you cursed, throwing your phone onto the bed and gripping at your hair in frustration before you picked the phone back up again and dialled his number.

“Hel-“

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare call me names, I’m not yours anymore Nico! You remember? You broke up with me!” You sobbed, so angry and frustrated. You were overwhelmed.

“Schatzi… don’t cry”

“Nico” you mumbled, the exhausted tone of your voice evident on your words.

He sighs “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have text you… it was a lot to see you tonight”

You scrunched your eyes closed in an attempt to stop the tears falling.

“Will you be at the wedding tomorrow?” He mumbles, somewhat hopeful.

You paused, silent so much so he asked “Can you hear me?”

You nodded, not that he could see you “I can hear you Neeks”

“Neeks” you chuckled “It’s been so long since I heard that”

“I’m not coming, this is probably the last time we can ever speak again…”

Nico bit his lip on the other side of the phone, tears now in his waterline. The weight of this on his shoulders.

“I can’t lose you Y/N”

“You lost me the day you broke up with me… you don’t get the best of both worlds. Goodbye Nico, good luck at the wedding” you mumbled, pulling the phone away and hanging up.

You threw your head back and cried out a strangled cry “Fucking Hischier!”

The next morning you lay in bed, the longer you were in your bed the less you had to face the real world.

It wasn’t until twelve you rolled onto the side of your bed, where your phone was charging. Your notifications were crazy.

Multiple missed calls. Texts. Voicemails.

Before you could read them, Nina was calling you.

“Hello? Ni what’s going-“

“Where is Nico?!”

You frowned “at his wedding? Aren’t you-“

“He’s not here! They’re all panicking he’s just disappeared and we can’t find him” she cried out, you could hear other panicked voices in the background specifically Rosie’s

“I’ll call him” is all you said, hanging up and staring at your reflection in the black screen “Hischier… where are you?”

You had tried calling him with no answer, leaving multiple voicemails. You grabbed your keys to head out the door when you spotted him, sitting out on your porch.

You opened the door, making your way to the porch swing and sitting next to him. Nico didn’t speak, just looking out at the mountains.

Your head dropped to his shoulder “Neeks she’s waiting for you”

He sniffled “This was supposed to be us”

You nod, grabbing his hand in yours “But it’s not, it’s you and Rosie. Nico you gotta go back to her”

He finally looked at you, his eyes rimmed red “What if I don’t? What if I just stay here? Would you have me?”

You swallowed loudly “Nico, I love you so much and if you ever came to me before I’d say yes but you don’t want me you’re just confused”

He shook his head “I love you! I’m not confused… I want this, I want you! This, this house! This life!”

The house was bought by Nico, at your request your Switzerland home had to be in the countryside. He let you have it after the breakup.

The two of you were inches apart, tears streaming down both of your faces “Neeks…”

“Kiss me” he mumbled, holding the back of your head waiting for your move. You did. You leaned up to capture his lips in yours, his tongue slipped past your bottom lip into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss before pulling away and pecking his lips once more “Hell of a last kiss”

“No, not a last kiss” he says and you look sadly

“Nico, let’s go…”

“Where?”

“To your wedding”

He wanted to argue, tell you he was going to stay but you looked at him with an expression that told him he didn’t get a say.

At the church you stood outside the doors, just enough time to spare. He’d got changed at your house, trying to fix his red and splotchy face as much as you could.

Outside the church entrance you stood hand in hand, Nico staring at you sadly “I don’t want to lose you”

You shook your head softly, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him softly and mumble

“You’ll always be mine even if I’m not yours”

He couldn’t answer before his family came out, shouting at him where he was. You smiled softly and whispered something about leaving before you turned around and walked away.

He watched you walk back to the car, watching you walk away from him for the last time.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine

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lvrhughes · 5 months

Text

You Are In Love | Q. Hughes

1989 tv masterlist

pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none?

summary: You and Quinn fall in love, and he realizes.

not my gif!

“Quinn!” His entrance had been welcomed quickly by the team, fellow cheers of ‘Captain’ and ‘Cap’ filled the space. His team surrounds his entrance, pushing you to the back of the crowd.

The lights in the room had been dimmed over the night, most of the light emitting from the TV playing whatever show Nils had picked. His eyes caught yours, seeing the way they lit up as he saw you. One look meant for you.

The night went too fast, missing the large crowd of rowdy Nhl players quickly as the number lessened. Nearly half the team had left before you even got the chance to get close to Quinn, three players passed out on the couch as you cut through Brock’s living room to reach.

“Hi Quinny.” Your voice was soft, walking into his open arms.

“Hi baby.” He returned, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. Baby. He had always called you that, no one knew why, no one cared enough to find out.

“I’m going, thought I’d say goodnight.” You mumbled, arms around his torso while his rested around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, baby, see you tomorrow?”

“Coffee at midnight?” The offer stood unanswered for a second before he nodded, a smile on his lips at the thought.

“Baby, baby wake up.” Quinn’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, peppering your face in kisses between his words.

“What?” Your voice was rough, filled with confusion, as you stared back at Quinn.

“It’s midnight coffee time.” He urged, his arms reaching around you to pull you up, pressing you against his chest.

“It’s midnight? I fell asleep, oh no.” The sadness that covered your face at the thought that you weren’t waiting and ready for Quinn broke him, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Baby it’s okay, you’re up now and we’ll go.”

You nodded at his words, stretching your arms before getting up, moving from your spot on your couch while Quinn followed. Slipping your shoes on before grabbing your keys, letting Quinn lead the way out to his car before you slid into the passenger seat.

“You want aux?” The question was almost rhetorical, you always took aux, simply nodding at him before taking it.

Your music playing, allowing the two of you to sing along quietly, often interrupted with small talk. He drives slow, carefully, his eyes drifting from the road every so often to caught a glimpse of you.

The 24 hour diner was your favorite place, Quinn having introduced you to it when he first moved to Vancouver, showing up at your place once offering midnight coffee, which would soon become a tradition.

The light reflected on the chain you wore, shining onto the roof of the diner in gorgeous patterns, catching Quinn’s attention. His view left his coffee, staring at the roof now while you stirred yours.

“Look up.” He urged, making you look up to see the patterns.

“It’s so amazing, something so little can make something so big and pretty.” Your voice was quiet simply admiring the dancing shapes, Quinn’s gaze drifting to you instead now.

The ride home was quiet, drifting in and out of sleep in Quinn’s passenger seat, him making the choice to take you to his instead. Carefully carrying you in, placing you on his bed before you woke.

“Quinny? I can’t sleep in this.” Your voice was filled with sleep, his heart melting at the sound.

“Here, put these on baby.” He encouraged, placing one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts you had left once in front of you. “I’ll be waiting outside, call me in when you’re done.”

You were quick to change, discarding your current clothes in a corner of his room before curling back into his bed, calling out for him.

“Well don’t you look comfy?” He joked, climbing into his spot beside you, letting your curl into him.

“Shit.” Quinn’s cursing was heard from the bedroom, making you giggle as you woke, smelling the cause of his fit.

The burnt toast that lay on the counter, Quinn’s messy handwritten note beside saying he was running out to get breakfast, leaving you to return into your clothes from before yet keeping his shirt.

The view of him walking back catching your attention, running out to the sidewalk to greet him, wrapping your arms around him quickly. The quickly movements leaving him to barely grasp the food, almost dropping it before catching it again, your body shaking with laughter as you saw.

“Smooth Quinn. You giggled, watching him roll his eyes.

“I wouldn't have almost dropped them if you didn’t run into me!” he argued, his eyes gleaming proving his false anger.

His movements were so fast you barely knew what was happening as his lips met with yours, melting into his as he dropped the food to the sidewalk. His arms wrapping your waist, your hands trailing through his hair.

“We should go in.” The words were muffled against your lips, his fingers rubbing circles on your hips as he spoke, pressing against your lips after.

“Mhm.” nodding, pulling away from his kiss for him to chase, his hands pulling you close again.

“Quinn!” The shout of his name coursed through laughter, seeing the smile raise on his face.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go.” He spoke, reaching for the food that laid on the ground before taking your hand to drag you inside.

“Quinn you know I can’t.” the sigh that came out urging Quinn to roll his eyes, shaking his head.

“I knew you’d say that, I just need you and you can’t.”

“Quinn-”

“No, I’m leaving.”

“Don’t leave.” His movements halted, his body that had been turned towards the door, carrying his bag to leave with, stopped. The tears the covered your waterline threatened to spill over, the sight alone when Quin turned was enough to drop him to his knees.

His knees hit the ground before he knew what he was doing, your body following in suite to sit with him, wrapped in his arms.

“I’m so sorry Baby, it’s stupid I was overreacting.” The words flowed from his mouth without stop, his constant apologies slipping into your hair as he pressed his face into the top of your head.

“Quinny it’s okay.”

His rambles continued, the various attempts to stop his speech failing. Pressing a kiss to his lips instead, his words dying as he melted into the kiss.

“Let’s go to bed now.” You encouraged, threading your hands through his hair once more before moving. He followed quickly, his bag discarded by the door while he followed you to his bedroom.

His body was quick to follow yours falling into the bed, pulling you into his arms in an instant. Peppering kisses along your face as you giggled, the smile on his face only growing as you leaned in to kiss him.

Sleep overcame you both in minutes, Quinn holding you against him throughout the night. It wasn’t until three am when Quinn woke, his movements waking you.

A strange look on his face, his grip reaching out for you again, holding you against him still. He paused, staring at you.

“You’re my best friend.”

You know what it was, he is in love.

You can hear it in the silence.

You can feel it on the way home.

You can see it with the light out.

You are in love.

#mads writings!#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks imagine

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lilywastaken · 1 year

Text

now hear me out: witch hunter!ghost x witch!reader...

he's visiting a town with the rest of his team to investigate a claim that there might be witches running rampant around the small countryside village, only to fall victim to a resident's charm while they conduct interviews.

she's a sweet woman who insists on curing the scratches that he's gathered across their travels, using tonics and herbs from her cute little garden and letting him pet her pet cat, who seems to have taken liking to the dark and imposing man, rubbing it's little black body against his boots and purring when he leans down to scratch under its chin.

it doesn't even clock in his mind how every single detail about you and your life correlates exactly with the obvious signs of a witch, but he's too spellbound with you to even realise.

he informs the others that none of the people he's talked to seem to have made the infamous deal with the devil, but due to the panicked way the leader of the community had written to them, they decide to stay to investigate further, staying in the small inn near the outskirts of town and luckily for simon, near your cottage.

despite the clear liking he's taken to you, he's still as emotionless and snarky as he would be with anyone else, and his chest tightens every time you laugh or giggle out loud at one of his dark jokes, most unladylike for any other woman, but you don't seem to care to hide your snorts or amusement around him, something he completely adores.

he insists on helping you with your garden, claiming you have no need to get your hands dirty when he's used to doing dirty work (both taking lives and tending to his own garden back home), sitting at your kitchen and watching you make the tonics and medicine you help treating anyone who has fallen ill in the village, standing close by whenever someone comes in with an injury, absolutely in awe at how they're cured almost immediately, thanking you gratefully before leaving. although, he does not miss the dirty glares some of your neighbours send you when they think you're not watching, making him grow confused, not understanding why they would harbour such feelings towards someone as kind and helpful as you.

it's not until he's taking a break at the pub, listening to gaz drawl on about some thing or another, when he catches wind of two women's conversation, frowning beneath the leather mask he wears in distaste has he takes in their poisioned words.

"-making moves on my poor husband. i swear, she's put some type of spell on him, that vile witch."

"oh, i know! my brother told her off last monday and guess what!? the next day, he fell off the roof and broke his leg! bloody bitch probably cursed him!"

"gosh, i cannot wait until those hunters finally get her! i have no idea how she's managed to evade their suspicions, she's done nothing to hide herself!"

"well, by the way that masked man has been loitering around her home, we'll be lucky to have a burning at the end of the week!"

they both laugh, the high pitch shrieks that they let out enough to make the glass in simon's hand shatter, shoving his seat back and leaving a dumfounded gaz in the pub alone as he walked away.

the splintering wooden door slams open as he shoves himself into your cottage, dark eyes landing on your crouched figure and then the second one, body freezing as he makes eye contact with his captain.

"simon." the man grunts, alerting you of your favourite visitor's presence as you pull back from the wound on his leg you were treating, a sweet smile on your lips.

"simon!" you repeat, cleaning your hands with the bucket of water next to you, wiping away the dried blood in the rags as price sends a warning look to his subordinate, the blond furrowing his brows in confusion, before the conversation he'd overheard before came to mind.

no.

no, price didn't know.

and, god, no, you weren't one of them.

you... no. no.

"let's get going. thank you for the help, miss." his whole body went into autopilot as price pushes him out of the cottage, the short wave and caring smile you sent his way the last thing he saw before the door was slammed shut.

neither of the men spoke on their trek back to the inn, and simon did not sleep a wink that night, terrified of what would happen in the coming days.

surprisingly, there was nothing. no finding of stakes, no gathering of firewood, no detainment of you.

so maybe, price hadn't picked up on you. even though simon was still convinced you were not one of those.

until after a few days of pouring rain, simon wakes up to a cold room and the absence of johnny, who he knows for a fact that never woke up before him unless forced to, something he'd learned after years of sharing the same room with the scot.

and as he walks out into the muddy roads, that oh-so familiar smell hits his nose.

the burning of wood, of grass, of cloth, of human.

his heart dropped into his stomach, following the trail of ashes that had blown across the roads until he arrives at the town square, the burning piece of wood in Gaz's hand along with the flames consuming the hay and grass that lay across the ground of the plaza, the fire slowly consuming your beautiful white dress he'd seen you sew barely days ago.

simon barely takes notice of price coming towards him, attempting to hold him back from rushing into the crowd simply staring up at you, your eyes falling down upon his struggling body, your face going from the calm expression it had been in to shock, pulling at your tied up wrists instinctively in a frail attempt to rush towards him.

"simon...!" you breathe out, soot entering your lungs as you inhale, tears filling your eyes from the burn as you watch him wrestle out of his captain's grip, his boots stomping against the rocky ground as he shoved past the gawkers, leather slamming against the kindle, ignoring his team's shouts and the fire burning his clothes and skin, reaching the stake you were tied to, his face out in the open due to the way he'd rushed out of his room, dark eyes reflecting the flames that were taking you both.

his shaky hands come behind you to untie the ropes around your arms, caging you with his body and allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look down at the burns forming across his legs.

"stop." you pleade, trying to push him away with your chest. "stop, simon, stop...!"

"shut up!" he snaps, throwing the ropes into the fire as they came undone, letting you collapse into his arms as you were let free, your hands gripping his dress shirt. "you're going to be okay, we need to-"

his voice broke as he looks down at your sunken eyes, your lips dry and cracked as if you'd just ran a marathon, but looking down at your intact legs and burning dress, he realises where all your energy had gone.

"simon.."

no.

"please, stop-"

no. you....

"you're going to die, simon, please!"

you couldn't be...

"i won't be able to save you, simon, listen to me!"

you were wailing at this point, trying to push his body down the small burning hill, but his body doesn't budge.

"simon!" his captain's grating voice pulls him out of his stupor, his hands growing tighter around your waist as he locks gazes with the furious looking man, your wails becoming static in his ears as he doesn't think twice as his now blistering hands pulled your legs up, letting you grasp onto his neck instinctively as he holds you bridal style, ignoring the searing pain rushing through his body.

"simon, don't, don't you dare!" you scream, the first time he's heard you raise your voice at him. "please, i'm not worth saving, you know what i am! i don't deserve to live!"

liar. you... you were worth everything.

you were worth the burns on his body, the destruction of his ideals and the pain the mere sight of you in tears gave him.

he doesn't care what you are.

you're... a witch. what he swore to destroy and what he has been hunting for over a decade.

but you're not... you're... not evil.

maybe none of them were, maybe if he'd taken the time to get to know the women they'd burnt before he'd have realised sooner, that you were just people.

and he wasn't going to let you get hurt. maybe it was a bit selfish or ironic, but he didn't care. he'd take you away from this town, from his colleagues, from the pain, let you live in peace somewhere were no one would bother you.

and if you let him, he'd come with you too.

he ignores price's shouts about the so called spell you'd put on him and as he looks down at your shivering body in his arms, the way you're curling into him, the way you were wailing for him to save himself moments ago, he couldn't...

even if you had put some type of spell on him, he didn't care. never had he felt like this. and yes, he'd deal with the consequences of this later, but for now, as he runs through the forest with your trembling body in his arms, he couldn't care less.

he isn't going to let anyone hurt you any more than they have.

(brainrot for this idea is open please 🗣️)

#ghost #ghost x fem!reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #simon ghost riley angst #ghost angst #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod mwii #witchhunter!ghost #— lily's brainrot ! ☆

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heliads · 1 year

Note

Ok so I saw how you said you wanted to write for narnia in your request guidelines so, imagine if you will:

Reader and Caspian with a sort of rivals to friends to lovers. Charting the transition from "My prince" (Sarcastic) to "My prince" (playfull, joking) to eventually "MY prince" (loving). Hope this makes sense, lots of love <3

when people check the request guidelines <333 also this request was so good that i had the people vote upon it. soldier reader for the win

masterlist

You’re not sure what makes you more angry, the fact that you broke your sword or that the prince was there to see it. If it were not enough of a ruination to your day to have your blade break in half like a child’s wooden toy, if it were not enough to have to retreat through the storms of other fights and clashing metal and skulk to the background to get another, you were witnessed by the one person you detest most of all.

You should not be hating Prince Caspian. He just makes it rather easy to do so. He is the physical embodiment of this world, the crown on high, the savior of your every waking hour, all because he happened to be born into the right family at the right time. It is not his fault that he is one of the most powerful men in all of Narnia, but it is not the result of his labor, either. He is simply the prince, and there is nothing more to say on the matter.

That is quite different from you, then. You had to claw your way up through the ranks, sacrificing skin and sweat so you could eke out a win time and time again. Your trials served you well, gilding your brow with the title of captain of the guard, but it wasn’t like anything was handed to you. No, not at all. Yet, by virtue of his predestined position, Caspian technically has control over every soldier in Narnia. He outranks all of your efforts by the crown put on his head when he was just an infant.

This is the way of the world, and the way that it has always been. It makes no sense for you to hate him so fervently over something he cannot control. Caspian is an easy scapegoat, though, a figurehead for you to heap your regrets upon like laurels. It is not his fault that he was made prince. It is not his fault that you despise him for being one.

You’ve had time to grow accustomed to your life of blood and sweat, however, and today should have been no different. This morning was an amalgamation of at least a dozen different mistakes, though, and that ruined your day before it hardly even started. You woke up a little too late, you snapped at your friends then regretted it half a second later, and now you’ve gone and broken your blade, too.

It wasn’t your best weapon, at least that counts for something. Your finest sword is your most prized possession, and lies in careful hiding back in your quarters. This was merely your practice weapon, one designed to be battered and beaten all in the means of furthering the skills of you and your men.

Still, it stings to see it lying on the dusty ground of the training yard, shiny metal fragments already beginning to cloud over with grime. You sigh, signaling to your partner that you’ll have to abandon the match for now, and carefully pick up the pieces. When you stand, cradling the shards of your sword like a child, you look up and see Caspian of all people staring at you from across the training yard. Evidently he’s arrived just to see your sword fail.

Wonderful timing as always from him. You have to marvel at how he does it. You half think Caspian carefully plans his excursions into the swordsman's arenas when he believes you to be least ready to see him. You meet his gaze for a moment longer, then turn, heading back towards the rows of equipment on the far side of the yard.

You murmur at least half a dozen curses as you go, running them over your tongue like a prayer. The broken pieces of your sword can be turned into the armorer in the hopes that something will become of them, but you highly doubt that. In the meantime, you’ll have to dig up the coin to buy yourself a new sword, and risk damaging your primary weapon in the meantime. How splendid.

A voice sounds from behind you, one that makes you grit your teeth despite the soothing intonations. “You know, if you’re stabbing our own men so hard your weapon shatters, I’m afraid to see what you’ll do to our enemies.”

You grimace to yourself, then turn around to face Caspian, expression resolute. “Fear not, my prince, your men will be spared from me today. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to break swords when a battle arises.”

Caspian arches a brow, perhaps at the tone you direct towards his title. “If you speak with that much thrill over the thought of war, I’m beginning to fear that you may not be my best advisor regarding the maintenance of peace.”

As if he’d ever listen to you long enough to consider you an advisor. The two of you snap at each other’s throats every time you get within shouting range. “Perhaps I just like a chance to fight.”

“I think I’ve noticed that,” Caspian murmurs, bemused.

It takes great strength to keep from glaring at him, strength that fails you by the second. “You’ll have to excuse me, I must go to the blacksmith for repairs.”

His face falls. “You won’t be continuing in the ring today? I had hoped to best you yet again.”

His lips quirk up as he says it, making the insult lose some of its barb, but it still makes your temper flare. “I’m afraid not. Blades are not as easily bought by soldiers as princes, I must see if I can salvage this one before going to the trouble of a purchase.”

Caspian seems half a second of self control from rolling his eyes. “There are more swords in the yard, L/N. Simply select another and we can go for a round or two.”

He gestures towards the training yard expectantly, and you feel the weight of your difference in stations come crashing down around you. Caspian will not stop asking until you fight him, that is his birthright. He does not know what it means to be disobeyed. And, as the captain of his guard, you cannot argue. This you know to be true, even if Caspian is unaware of just how he’s wielding his influence. There is nothing you can do to circumvent him.

You force your expression to go icily cold, devoid of any and all emotion. Even the anger, which was sparking through you so readily before, vanishes from your disposition. Caspian blinks in surprise at the sudden change, more so when you abruptly drop the pieces of your broken blade to the ground, where they send up a small storm of dust.

“Of course,” you say, even-syllabled, “how could I ever think to do anything else? Your word is my command, my prince.”

You pack as much loathing as possible into those syllables. Caspian flinches as if you’ve hit him, and then his confidence is gone, his eyes downcast. “If you don’t want to–” He begins in a whisper, but you’re already moving briskly towards the rows of extra blades.

“I most certainly want to,” you answer him, the borrowed blade seeming to cut into your hand despite the smooth leather grip, “you have asked, and that is all the motivation I should ever need.”

Caspian swallows hard, opens his mouth to say something, but you swing your blade at his head before he can manage it. This is utterly wrong behavior for a soldier towards a prince, but Caspian has never seemed to have a problem with your actions before, no matter how challenging. It’s as if both of your prides are so strong that they could overcome any class barrier set in your way.

Caspian barely parries your sword before it cuts into his head. Grunting with effort, he twists his weapon, forcing you to step back as he disengages, striking towards you in return. Seizing the opportunity, Caspian presses his advantage, taking a few quick steps and maneuvering the two of you further into the training yard and into the designated spaces for fighting.

Words are clearly still clinging to his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud, but this is no longer a place for conversation. It takes everything in you to counter his attacks, to spot when he’s off balance and lunge with piercing precision towards every gap in Caspian’s defense. You may hate the dark-haired prince with every fiber of your being, but you cannot deny that he is skilled. He might be the only one here capable of providing a challenge to you. You might hate him even more for that, or worse, not at all.

Caspian feints to his left, then his right. You ignore both distractions and plunge your weapon straight towards his heart. Expecting your belligerence in regards to his ploys, Caspian parries the strike and returns it with one of his own. You move to take a quick sidestep, but the ground is slick beneath your feet with mud from yesterday’s rain and you stumble. It’s the slightest of missteps, but for someone at Caspian’s level, it is enough.

He lunges forward, and you feel the shadow of the stone wall on your back before he pushes you into it. The rock is cold against your back, driving the air from your lungs. You try to force your way towards the center of the yard again, but Caspian has his sword at your throat, and any movement would lead to you cutting your own neck.

Unwilling to yield quite yet, you stay silent. You and Caspian breathe in and out, the deep gasps for air first discordant and then slowly, steadily, joining in a shared rhythm.

Caspian speaks first, you know he’s been waiting for it. “You hate me.”

You scoff. “You hate me. This is not an exclusive feeling.”

He exhales harshly, exasperated. “Stop deflecting everything onto me. We could have been friends.”

You laugh, tilting your head back to give him a better chance to slit your throat. “You are a prince. I would never have been anything but nothing to you.”

Caspian’s eyes widen. He moves away from you unsteadily, first closer than he’s ever been, then gone, halfway across the yard in what feels like just a second. You let your eyes shudder closed, exhausted from the intensity of the fight but perhaps something more as well. When you open your lids, he is gone. He had just arrived, but he is nowhere to be seen now. That could be no one’s fault but yours. He is not your friend. But. He could be so, so much more.

Three days later, a gift arrives in your quarters. You unwrap the cloth bindings to reveal a sword nestled within the folds. You can tell at once that it has been perfectly selected for you– the heft is just right for your level of strength, the grip matches your hands exactly, and the edges are razor sharp, ideal for those slashes towards the forearms you’ve been so fond of as of late.

It comes swathed in a rich purple cloth, the sort of color you’ve only ever seen decorating Caspian’s frame as he walks with his troops or speaks to his nobles. An angrier, more bitter part of you wants to reject the gift entirely, to toss it from your room like refuse or return it back to him at once. Still, it is a fine blade, and you know that were you to just pick it up, it would feel exactly right, an extension of your arm into shining metal.

So, the sword joins the rest of your collections, and the purple linen ends up tucked away in your desk, carefully folded into a neat square of color and creases. You cannot explain why you do either, not even to yourself.

The next time you’re called out with your regiment to guard the prince and some foreign powers on a diplomatic mission, the sword is on your belt, your hand resting on its hilt. Caspian sees and something changes in his expression; a deepening of a smile, a pleased spark in his eyes. For some reason, you cannot hate him for being proud. Not today.

He finds you later, once the crowds have dispersed and he doesn’t have to be a prince, just a man. “What a fine sword that is,” he remarks pleasantly.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t. Don’t even.”

Caspian spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”

“You had better not,” you grumble.

He nods solemnly. “Of course. Just a random thought, however, it really is a nice blade. It must have been picked out by an exceedingly good swordsman. Perhaps even the best in the castle.”

You should be irritated with him for being so bothersome again. Instead, you find yourself fighting a smile. “It’s a shame, then, that the only swordsman here worth his salt is me.”

Caspian’s mouth drops comically. “That cannot be true.”

“It is,” you reply as casually as you can, “I come to you with only the best information, my prince. Only the best.”

He starts to respond, but something stops him, something that makes him smile quietly. Your stomach flips with the unsettling feeling of having missed out on a joke, but for once, you don’t entirely mind it. Instead, the two of you walk all the way back to the castle, and only when the diplomats arrive again must you be parted. It is not the worst use of your time.

Caspian finds you again two nights later. You’re on a shift guarding a section of the castle walls, which gives you an excellent view of the foreign powers riding away into the darkness. They’ve been here for days now, testing Caspian’s patience like no one else, not even you.

He joins you soon enough, exhaustedly leaning his arms up against the stone battlements. “I think I hate politics,” he murmurs into the night air.

You chuckle, the quiet sound abnormally loud in the darkness. It should make you self conscious, and it does, but not as much as it would for anyone else. The hot prick of awareness in your stomach is both doubly strong and doubly weak because you are next to Caspian; why, you cannot explain, but it is true.

“You are a prince,” you point out, “politics was always something you would have to do.”

Caspian groans. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. That’s why I always envied you, you know. You got to carry the banner and fight the battles without any political conniving.”

You stare at him in shock. “That cannot be true. No future king could ever want to be a mere soldier.”

He laughs derisively. “As if you’ve ever been a mere soldier. Not to me,” he adds on afterthought, and you’re not sure that it was even meant for your ears, “no, not to me.”

You shake your head slowly. “But I thought you hated me. All this time, you’ve merely wanted to join me in fighting without a care?”

Caspian’s brow furrows. “Hate you? No, no. I never hated you. I never could hate you.”

He straightens up, slowly walking over to you. There is no one else on the castle wall to see you, no one below. Even still, your eyes feel like more than enough of an audience to find some reason to stop this before the pounding in your heart blocks out your ability to breathe properly.

“My prince,” you say, a warning. It doesn’t make him flinch like it used to, a blow grown familiar, worn down to the weight of a feather instead of that of a blade.

Caspian sighs, the listless air leaving him and vanishing just as quickly on the wind. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted this. That you’ve never thought about it.”

“I couldn’t,” you whisper, and something in you cracks in half when his face falls, “but you could.”

Caspian’s eyes dart cautiously up to you again. “Are you sure?”

Neither of you have to specify what he means for you to know. “Yes,” you breathe.

You did not anticipate this night to end with you kissing the crown prince of Narnia. That being said, you would not want to have it any other way. There may be foreign dignitaries out there plotting the end of his reign, or political turmoils present to claim most of his time, but tonight, Caspian is yours and yours alone. It makes you smile into him. It makes everything that much better.

narnia tag list: empty for now!

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carrymelikeimcute · 8 months

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Going over the izzy/lucius/shark exchange is so interesting in the context of this being an episode about apologies. About making concessions and trying to fix things.

(In this ep there's a lot about ed making amends/accommodating the crew's triggers and trauma. It's also about stede having to fix things when he upsets the superstitious crew by not treating their feelings as valid.)

At the start we have Ed's (probably well intentioned) but evasive, non-apology. He does an 'I'm sorry you feel that way' sort of apology about 'whatever that bad stuff was'. It's a wish to do better, but it doesn't really cover what went before. A lot of people interject here, but Izzy remains completely still and silent, off to one side.

Lucius says he never used the word 'sorry' and rightly calls this out. Roach however, says he's never heard an apology before - and liked it - so this seems like as much as it's a first for Ed to take even some accountability, it's probably the first time some of the crew have seen a captain (or anyone else) do this too.

Archie says 'They just get away with it and we move on'.

Lucius rounds on Izzy, because obviously Izzy should have the biggest grievance here. But Izzy responds to the question about Ed's apology as if it was about piracy in general - clearly showing that the cycle of abuse is a feature, not a bug. This is part of his life and identity as a pirate. This is, actually, things going back to normal. You get whipped (and we see these scars on him later) no one apologises, and you just reset to how it was before, pretending nothing has been altered until it all bubbles over again.

Ed then tells stede that he's never apologised for anything. Confirming that most of the crew's responses are in line with their past experiences.

Then Ed goes to fix the door and tells it that it's not its fault that it's broken, it was just doing it's job. This directly parallels Izzy's rant to the figurehead about it failing to do it's job. Ed could be talking about himself here, as Izzy was talking about himself - but to me it doesn't fit that well, because what 'job' was Ed trying to do? He could instead be acknowledging, indirectly, that he is aware that Izzy was doing his job - trying to make sure they all survived and functioned as a crew. Ed probably broke that door, and he broke Izzy. But he has yet to talk to him about it.

Immediately following this, is when he scares the BEJESUS out of Lucius and tells him 'it would be faster to get all this out in one go'. It sounds like a reasonable suggestion, but we know that it doesn't actually work. Lucius pushes him off the boat and it doesn't help. Because 'I hurt you, so now you hurt me' doesn't benefit the abused, it's still about making the abuser feel better - making them feel punished and therefore redeemed, even when their victim isn't healed. I don't think Ed is trying to manipulate Lucius here - both of them think it might help to 'fix things' but fixing things takes emotional intelligence that's not really developed yet.

ENTER, THE SHARK

Izzy starts working on the shark, after the non-apology. He doesn't have it in the 'candle fighting' scene obvs - but he does receive an apology in that scene, when stede says 'feet' and then corrects himself to foot. It's a simple straightforward apology, even if he does sort of laugh awkwardly. Izzy also at least attempted to apologise to Stede in ep. 3 - so he clearly sees the use in apologies - AND right after the apology, Izzy agrees to help stede. Their relationship changes. It gets better and they're no longer stuck in those old patterns. Izzy is full-on gentle parenting stede - even when he shoots down a fucking sail.

He also, notably, states that the crew's feelings on the curse are important. Meaning, how the crew feels is important to him, period.

After this, we're back to Lucius throwing Ed overboard. But it doesn't work because Ed doesn't remember the talent show thing, he doesn't really know why Lucius was so blindsided by that betrayal of trust. It's not about who goes overboard. It's about the dynamics underneath that and those can't be fixed by just trading places for a moment.

FINALLY. We see Izzy finishing the shark, and he's completely unsurprised that Lucius pushing Ed into the water didn't fix things. Izzy's done this 'tit for tat' thing - betraying Ed to the English over being banished - and it ended terribly for both of them. It escalated things. He knows it's not as simply as getting even with someone.

The solution Izzy has chosen to the cycle of his relationship with Ed is to pretend that Ed hasn't done anything to him. A shark did it. Like with the non-apology, blame is being shifted to a third party 'the bad things' the 'bad times'. Lucius (rightly) points out that this is not healthy, but Izzy's response, that's better than not moving on, clearly resonates.

Izzy's response to being hurt was to 1. Get even and 2. (when that proved deeply unsatisfying and made things worse) to put the unresolved conflict behind him. Because he doesn't think Ed is ever going to apologise or change, and wanting those things just hurt more.

Anyone who has parents/a partner/friend who's NEVER apologised for anything, knows how he's feeling. You stop trying to have it out and fix the relationship, and it starts to wither, even though the other person thinks it's healthy.

'Not moving on is worse' is a warning, and it's one that Lucius takes to heart, immediately trying to centre positive things instead of resentment and anger. He shares his feelings with Pete, and their relationship thrives.

The issue here, is that denial doesn't work. Lucius might be able to move on from what happened to him without a proper apology from Ed, but that's because he's not in a relationship with him. Izzy's the one who's really in it with Ed - he's had DECADES of this shit. That can't be willed away.

Stede's resolution to the curse conflict models a healthier method and one that I'm hoping we see in a future episode between Ed/Izzy. He validates the crew's feelings, make a sacrifice (the suit) and TOGETHER they collaborate on a solution to the issue that is mutually satisfactory - he even gets to keep the shirt, as a sort of compromise. It isn't about just making stede or the crew feel better, it's about moving on together.

This happens with Ed and Fang! Ed actually apologises once he realises what, specifically he did wrong. Fang says they're 'sweet' because he beat Ed to death (oof) which outwardly seems like retaliation working - but there has also been an actual apology and Fang wasn't retaliating against Ed, he was standing up for himself - a physical version of saying 'that wasn't OK - you need to change'.

This method of resolution is echoed in the final scene, with stede and ed. They reach an understanding about the pace of their relationship and find a happy medium (holding hands) - mutually satisfied and moving forwards.

Bottom line? I hope we see 1. Ed actually apologise to Izzy and 2. the pair of them outline what it is they want to change in their relationship moving forward, ending the cycle for good.

Thank you for coming to my Ed talk.

#ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 #izzy hands #edward teach #lucius spriggs #sprigghands #ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #blackhands #edizzy #israel hands #thank you for coming to my ed talk

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togamest · 1 month

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5,161 words. gn!reader, hybrid!au, hybrid!reader (calico cat), pirate!hayato. ownership, collars, penetrative sex, fingering (reader!receiving), pet names (angel, kitten), torture (not reader receiving). hybrid!oc side characters. reader is described as thin and malnourished. a/n: god i don’t know what came over me. jesus christ.

I’m gonna murder you.

That was the first thing you thought of when the smugglers stuffed you into this crate. It hadn’t been without injury; you’d gotten a chance to scratch and nip at some of the arms in your vision, with yelps and cursing following. One had swatted at you, which had been met with sharp teeth sinking into his hand. He’d howled in rage, holding his hand as the top of the box had finally been shut and locked. From there, you don’t know where you’d been put; the box was small enough where you’d been cramped, not allowed out unless it was in the captain’s quarters, and even then he’d expected you to sit so still next to him.

Financial success. That was a phrase you’d recognized, one that had been associated with your calico heritage, and was probably the reason why you were on a smuggler’s ship in the first place. Why you were really here was a mystery, kept from you, which suited you perfectly fine. You didn’t need to know why you were there, only that you had to escape somehow. Something deep within you had told you that this ship was cursed; and the growing quiet outside, eerily silent, did not speak of a smooth journey. Most ships in this star system were bustling, even during the long journey. This one was quiet…too quiet.

Sure enough, all of a sudden, there seemed to be a much more intense commotion going on outside. Cannons were going off, an awful, acrid smell spreading down to your little hovel in the base of the ship. It made your nose twitch, but you knew with a sinking feeling who it was attacking the ship. Who else could it be?

PIRATES.

Your hands were pressed over your ears, doing their best to hide the noise from outside but did little to protect your hearing. Your tail, tight around your body due to your confining box, couldn’t help but twitch whenever you heard a cannon go off. From the suddenly loud footfalls above you, it sounded like the pirates had managed to get on deck. Gurgling and heavier thuds permeated the sounds, as well as cackling noises from the intruders, and then…silence.

Gentle footfalls broke the quiet, and you braced yourself as they began to move around above you, stepping down stairs and sounding as if they were in the same room as you. You tried to make yourself small in the box, as small as possible in the corner as you hear someone scrabbling at the box. “Boss!” you hear a voice say, “Looks like they got some pricey cargo. Sounds like a smuggler ship to me.”

Another voice chimes in, smoother. “Open it.”

You clap your hand over your mouth, resisting the urge to snarl. You’d been hit for that, and you weren’t keen on being hit again over it.

A jingle of keys, and the box opens in the front. Light streams in, and you have to blink several times for your eyes to adjust before heads crowd the opening. You can’t make out details, but you do hear whispering between them; the special scent of other hybrids hits your nostrils, making you want to curl further into yourself. Hybrid and poor thing and why were they smuggling this are thrown around, before the heads clear and a singular man squats down in front of you.

He’s gorgeous.

Tasseled earrings swish as he kneels. The one eye you can see has nothing but kindness in it, a strange emotion to see in the eyes of a pirate captain. His garb is typical of a captain as well; a black coat with golden lapels, black pants and black boots scuffed from many adventures. The eye patch over his other eye is frayed as well, needing a good stitching.

He doesn’t say anything, only rakes his gaze over you. You don’t even realize you’re shaking until his hand reaches in, and you resist the urge to bite him. Unlike the smugglers, he doesn’t seem to have any ill will for you. His movements are slow, easy to anticipate, something you appreciate after the harsh, rapid movements of the smugglers.

“Good,” he whispers, as if he can tell you’re holding back.

His hand finally stops in front of your nose.

Is he…letting me smell him?

He doesn’t move, so you lean forward just a little, sniffing at his palm. It smells musky, like a strong cologne you’ve smelled before but can’t put your finger on it. It sends an electric shock through your system, almost as if you were meant to be found by him. Something about this feels fated somehow, and unconsciously, you move forward and push your head underneath his hand.

His touch is soft as he scratches between your ears, the contact forcing a rough purr out of your throat as you slowly move forward. You don’t leave the box, but you do let him pet you. That’s enough for you right now; feeling someone’s gentle touch against you, raspy purrs in your chest.

“Captain?”

One of the shipmates speaks behind the man in front of you, who looks back. “Yes?”

“Are we…takin’ it with us?”

“It?” The captain’s tone is sharp all of a sudden, like a knife. The atmosphere thickens.

There’s an audible gulp. “I, uh…them, I guess.”

The captain nods, turning back to you and coaxing you out of the box. Your legs feel cramped after having been stuck in that box for so long, and you can’t help but stretch out, groaning at the snaps and cracks and pops of your joints. Your tail swishes behind you, low to the ground, as you extend your arms out in front of you, your short claws digging into the wood as you wriggle out all the cramps.

“Can you stand?” the captain asks you, offering his hand. You nod, not up for speaking just yet as you grab his hand, standing on wobbly legs. You’re shorter than him, somehow, considering he can’t be more than five and a half feet tall, so you look up at him with big, brown eyes, waiting for what he’ll do next.

You go to take a step with him, and almost instantly, your vision blurs and darkens. Someone catches you, you presume the captain as he barks an order at the shipmates that had been surrounding him. The blood rushing to your head is too much, having not been on two legs for so long, that you let the darkness drift you away, hoping when you wake that you’ll be in a safer place.

A sentence meets your ears, causing them to twitch just before you go under.

I’ll take good care of you, kitten.

You awaken to fuzziness pushing against your cheek.

Immediately, you start, before grimacing and feeling the wooziness still in your head, your hand reaching up to press against the painful spot. It seemed to be a headache; you can’t recall the last time you’d eaten properly, only being forced to consume bathwater and moldy food. Your stomach felt small, so incredibly small, and you knew you looked thin as well. Not like you’d been chubby at any point of life, but starvation and malnourishment had done a number on you.

Upon inspecting the bed you’re lying on, it’s covered in fluffy, warm blankets that smell similar to the musk of the captain. There’s food as well, the scent hanging in the air and forcing you to lean over to the side table. A plate with piping hot food (what looks to be a stew) and a tall glass of water sit, ready to be devoured.

You can’t help but drool a little, wiping the spit on your chin as you go to take a bite of the stew. You’d never had stew before, only heard stories about how many ingredients it has and how rare some of them can be to harvest. As the food hits your palette, you can’t help but hum at the heartiness of it, the warmth spreading through your body. The water follows the food, eliciting a sigh as you take another scoop of stew—

You drop the spoon in the bowl as you hear the door open, chattering from the deck seeping in past the doorframe. Luckily, it’s just the captain as he shuts the door quickly behind him, before approaching your bed.

The draft from the open door hits your skin, and you pull one of the blankets around you, redness flushing your face. I didn’t realize he’d taken my clothes. Not that they were “clothes” in the traditional sense to begin with; they had been scraps at best, hanging off of your thin frame, but feeling them gone and you bare in front of him felt wrong.

He has a soft smile on his face, his earrings tinkling as he walks. He seems to ignore the fact that you’re naked, too, which you appreciate. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, and you nod, still a little bashful. You’re probably too trusting of him so quickly, but…something about him makes you feel relaxed.

He sits on the edge of the bed, beckoning you close. You move as if attached by a magnet to his hand, pushing your head underneath it and purring as he gives you some scratches. There’s a noise of a bell somewhere, and you feel his hand brush against the soft skin of your neck, reaching for the ratty leather collar that the smugglers used.

You almost forgot about it, but you can’t resist hissing as his hand goes to grab it, jerking back. “No!” you cry out, and he releases the collar immediately, holding both of his hands in view. There’s something sad in his eyes, that makes you soften again, the bristling on your head relaxing. “Sorry,” you rasp, “’m sorry. Just…sensitive.”

He nods. “Can I remove it?” he asks. You nod.

He asks for permission at every turn, asking to rub the redness from your neck when the collar comes off. He adds some medicine to the burn, tutting. “Those smugglers had no idea how to take care of you, did they?” he questions, mostly to himself, but you shake your head anyway. You don’t remember much before the ship, mostly hiding in alleyways and making a name for yourself. You’d managed to hide your hybrid elements for a while, but the smugglers always find out eventually. It’s how they work.

Your eyes slide closed at his movements, his firm touches against your sensitive neck, and his cooing voice in your ear, telling you it’s going to be okay. One sentence remains as you drift off, feeling yourself grow tired after eating your fill of the soup and being freed of that disgusting collar.

Call me Hayato, angel.

Hayato was as fierce as he was kind, however.

You’d gotten used to accompanying him to meetings, sitting next to him obediently. He’d given you a much nicer collar, a black one with a shiny silver bell on the front of it, tinkling whenever you moved. He’d dressed you in much higher quality clothes, as well; similar to his own garb, you’d gotten a black jacket, white shirt, black pants and black boots. Thankfully, he never found a reason to give you a leash, and you stayed close to him enough where it wouldn’t matter. You weren’t a canine hybrid, after all.

However, today, there was an interrogation.

Of one of the smugglers they’d captured.

You’d sat, curled up in your seat as Hayato stalked around the smuggler in question. He’d been beaten before he’d been brought in, sores and welts disfiguring his face. However, he recognized you, and that led to where he is now; at the bad end of Hayato’s whip, lashing out whenever the smuggler gave him an answer he didn’t like.

“What were you doing with them?” Hayato asks sternly, pointing to you. The smuggler clams up, shaking his head. “Can’t—can’t tell,” he stammers out, and the tension in the room skyrockets. It’s almost hard to breathe as you stare at the man through slitted eyes, your ears pinned to your head as you hiss at him. He winces again, and flinches as Hayato squats next to him. The shipmates around him are bristling, almost waiting for the command to tear him to pieces.

You’d noticed, recently, that many of the shipmates were also hybrids. There’s a wolf hybrid, always barking at one of the golden retrievers that never seemed to be able to mop the deck fast enough for him. He had a massive scar up his snout, crossing one of his eyes and rendering it blind, his ears and tail jet black shot through with red (that you imagined he dyed himself). The retriever was larger, more stout with big brown eyes, and much more of a yapper. It was like watching night and day.

That meant this was personal for Hayato. He had a stake in this.

You made a mental note to ask him why he kept rescuing hybrids, but it seemed as though he did it for justice more than anything else as he lashes the man once more, a wail tearing itself from the injured man’s throat as a massive welt appears on his bare back, blood oozing to the surface.

“Can’t tell me? You know your captain has been killed, correct?” Hayato’s tone is clipped.

The man gasps. “No! He’d never go down that easy to the likes of you,” he spits, and Hayato’s face splits into a smile. A smile that a carnivore would have, when its prey has caught itself in a trap right in front of it.

“Never? Well, he seemed to go down quite easily before the barrel of my gun.”

The smuggler gulps. “F-Fine,” he stammers after a moment, “what do you want?”

Hayato sighs. “I asked you already. What did you want with this hybrid? Come now, keep up.”

The smuggler looks back up at you, and smirks, having a lick of courage flashing in his eyes. It made your blood feel cold*.* “That one? Oh, they’re a pretty one. Pro’lly had it on there so the captain could stick his cock somewhere—”

The blow that lands on his face is loud, a crrrrrack echoing through the cabin as the man slumps, gasping, almost unconscious. Hayato’s face is stern, a rage in his eyes that looks like fire. He doesn’t shake or flinch, but moves in a calculating way as he shifts to be right in the man’s vision. “Disgusting,” he says, spitting on the man’s face, which is met with a faint groan, “fucking disgusting. People like you deserve nothing in this world. Would you have even asked for consent, or do you also think you’re entitled to that as well?”

You’ve curled inside of yourself as soon as you heard the words the man had spoken. The lust in his voice was clear, and you couldn’t help but want to hide, hide away from prying eyes and from anyone who saw you as a pretty little hole. It made you feel dirty, and thankfully nothing had happened before Hayato had arrived, but…what if he hadn’t? What would your fate have been?

The smuggler coughs, blood spraying on the floor. You look over at the wolf, and notice the drool dripping from his mouth. He can smell the blood, of course he can; and he looked like he’d want nothing better than to devour the man in front of him. His teeth are digging into his lip, and the retriever’s hand moves to grip the wolf’s, noticing his tail swishing.

The smuggler grins through the blood. “’Course ‘m entitled. It was my property, yeah? I could do whatever I want to it, and so could the captain.”

The rage that’s swirling in Hayato’s eyes only strengthens as he looks up and glances at the wolf, meeting his feral eyes. The wolf’s muscles are ramrod straight, and he’s shaking at having to hold himself back. The retriever does his best, but it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough.

Hayato says nothing, turning on the smuggler and moving to you, instead, worry clouding his eyes as the rage dispels. He moves in a way where you can’t see the smuggler anymore, and kneels down in front of you, cupping your face.

He removes one hand, and snaps his fingers, the crisp noise echoing around the cabin.

Within an instant, you see the wolf charge in, claws tearing at any part of the man that he can get his hands on from the noises that elicited from the movements you could barely see. His nails are long, never cut but only sharpened and fine-tuned, like ten small blades attached to his fingers. Blood sprays all over the cabin, the man’s screams echoing around the cabin.

You see none of it. Hayato sits in front of you, taking up all of your vision, his big eyes staring deeply into your own. There’s safety there. “Look at me,” he whispers, and you comply, because how could you not when someone who barely knew you fought for you without needing a reason? Even if there had been a reason, you had a feeling that Hayato would have done it anyway.

The retriever moves in after the wolf is done and silence has fallen, cleaning up after him. The wolf staggers back, and you attempt to peek over Hayato’s shoulder, who gently moves your face back to look at him. “Don’t look at him,” he says softly, “I don’t want you to see this. Just know that he’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

You shivered. “Okay.”

That night, you can’t help but hear the man’s screams.

The clean-up after had been out of your vision as well, the retriever doing his best to keep you out of the cabin. It had been difficult, but due to his brawn there was no way you could have forced your way in. So, instead, you chose to lounge in Hayato’s quarters, which you’ve now discovered is where you’d woken up. You chose your own bed instead, having had it closer to the door, and you’d toppled onto it to sleep.

You dreamed of terror, horribly vivid dreams with hands touching you where you didn’t want them. Voices telling you you belong to me, I can do what I want echoing through your brain. You couldn’t talk back, or hiss or scream for help; your vocal chords were shot, tightened, frozen in place.

You’d woken up in a pool of sweat, shaking and shuddering in the middle of the night. The ship was moving gently along the galactic current, the stars outside bringing soft light into the cabin. There was a planet you were passing, its bright aura dousing the cabin in a pretty glow of orange and purple.

Wiping the sweat off your brow, you crawled over to Hayato’s bed. You felt terrible asking him to soothe you, but you simply shed your clothes and crawled under the covers with him, thinking nothing of it.

Instead, Hayato’s eyes fluttered open as you slid under the blankets, getting yourself comfortable. “Are you alright?” he rasps, blinking sleepily as he drags you to him, a soft yelp falling from your lips at the movement, before smoothing into his grip. “Nightmare,” you whisper, and his grip on your only tightens. The bell around your throat jingles.

“Oh, angel,” he whispers, scratching that space between your ears that he knows you love, “it’s alright. I’m here. None of those bastards will ever lay a hand on you again, I promise.”

It’s silent for a moment, before your mind begins to wander.

You can feel that Hayato is only dressed in sleep pants, and for some reason, that makes you feel warm. Something stirs inside of you, your stomach tight as you turn to look at him. Whatever is in your eyes makes his grow dark, and he grins. “Do you need me to take care of you?” he asks, and you nod. There was something about having Hayato do what the men in the nightmare did; call it reclaiming power or whatever you’d like, but having it with the person you trusted the most (currently) felt like it was wiping away the previous horrible ordeals you’d been through.

His lips slot against your own so gently that you almost don’t notice, and a purr is shared between your connected mouths as his tongue slides against your lips, asking for entrance. It licks into your mouth, hot and wet and strong, easily taking control from you. Your tail swishes against the covers, and your thighs clench at the motion.

“My pretty little kitten,” he murmurs against you, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

His hands drift, down to your hips as his nails sink into the skin. The motion has you trembling against him, small ah’s escaping your mouth as he breaks the connection between you two, looking at you like you’d hung all the stars in the galaxy. He looks at you in a way he doesn’t look at anyone else, and it makes your chest feel warm.

As he maneuvers above you, you can’t help but blurt out, “My first time. This, uh…this is my first.”

He stops dead in his tracks, gaze hot on your lithe body. “I’m your first?”

You nod hesitantly. “B-But I do want this. With you. Promise.” You don’t know how else to say it, or how else to beg for it because now that he’s kissed you, you need him everywhere. Particularly, between your legs, where you can feel wetness beginning to build between your thighs. Who cares if it’s going to be something you regret? Right now, it felt right to reward the person who’d saved you twice over.

He pauses for a moment, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate. Then, he smiles, moving back to your lips and capturing you in a long kiss, teeth clacking together. You sink your canines into his lip, just enough to indent the skin, and he groans into your mouth.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, moving down to spread your legs in front of him. You feel your ears twitch as he does so, gazing at your center and how it drips onto the blankets beneath you both. There’s a flush on your cheeks, you can feel the warmth on them as he reaches out and runs a long, thin finger through your lips, from your center up to your throbbing clit.

As soon as his finger taps your nub, you jolt, your hips unconsciously bucking into his own grip. There’s a grin that splits across Hayato’s face, and he doubles down on the movement, leaning over you to get closer, his lips hovering inches above your own. His eyes are blown wide, almost black with lust as he watches you unfold beneath him.

The whines and whimpers that fall from your mouth aren’t in your control; you can only react to him, shuddering and shaking beneath him as he continues his movements. “Have you ever cum before?” he whispers, and you shake your head. You’d never touched yourself, either; it’s not like you had the time for self exploration, and Hayato can certainly tell with how sensitive you are. It’s almost like you’ve been pent up, all this time, your need pacing the grounds of a cage, yowling to be let out.

He smiles at you. “I’m going to make you, don’t worry,” he says gently, “get you nice and ready for me.”

You can feel it, the arousal, tightening in your stomach like a spring. It’s all so much that tears are pricking at your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks as you sob. “Feels ‘s good, Hayato,” you whine, and his smile only grows as he picks up the pace, his fingers rolling and pushing against you. “Good, angel,” he responds, “now, can you cum for me? Can my pretty kitten cum for me?”

You’d never been one to follow commands, being a feline hybrid, but something about his voice had you spurting all over the blankets without a second thought, a cry ripping itself from your throat as you cum. He watches you do so, his gaze a burning fire that’s tearing through you, watching your body jerk and shake and shudder beneath him as you ride out your high. You can’t tear your eyes from him, not with how intense he looks and how happy he looks, his pride for you written obviously all over his face.

His fingers leave you, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, before he’s there again above you, lips attached to you.

“You did so wonderfully, angel,” he says against you, his hands pulling off his pants, “so, so good for me.”

Your head is light, as if there was a dam broken that suddenly made you feel like you were walking on air. When his cock brushes against your center, you wince, feeling the head prod against you. “T-too big,” you manage to get out, and he pulls you in close, bracketing your head with his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead.

“We can stop if you want to,” he says softly, but you shake your head. Now that you’ve gotten a taste…you need to feel him inside of you. Claiming you. “No, it’s okay,” you manage to get out, and he holds you close as he positions himself, slowly breaching the ring of tight muscles.

“Just relax, kitten,” he says, “relax and let me in. Let me make you feel good.”

Your breaths are deep, following his motions as oxygen flows in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly, you feel him enter, and while it does burn, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, his cock slides in relatively easily thanks to the wetness lining your walls, and—God.

“S’ full,” you moan, and his forehead drops to your own as he pants. You can feel him restraining himself from slamming into you, adjusting to you. “You’re so tight,” he whispers, “hugging me so good, angel. Fuck.”

You stay that way for some moments, connected so divinely that you could’ve fallen asleep right there with Hayato’s cock keeping you nice and open, but that was a pipe dream. Instead, he slides out so slowly that every ridge of his cock rubs against your walls, and when he slides back in, the head hits this part inside of you that feels spongey and feels so good. You let out a shudder and a high-pitched squeal as he slides in and out faster, and when you look at him, he’s grinning. You don’t think he’s stopped grinning and smiling this entire time.

��Holy shit, kitten,” he pants, “don’t wanna cum too fast. Wanna feel you more.”

You nod, sighing as he sheaths himself inside of you once again. “Faster. Please, Hayato? Make me cum again?”

He pauses, looking at you questioningly. “Are you sure?”

You nod far too quickly. “Yes. Promise.”

The next snap of his hips has you seeing stars, bullying against that spot within you that makes you feel warm and tight and ready to explode all over him again. The pace is fast, but it’s not brutal; it’s like a ship, swaying and prodding and pounding rhythmically, like a song. Like a galactic song that’s been known across space and time.

He pushes himself up onto his palms, sweat dripping onto you as he rails into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says, cupping your face with one hand and keeping himself up on the other. Skin slaps against skin, and your moans and whines all but spur him on to moving even faster. Your mind is unraveling with every thrust, every prodding movement to that spot within you only making you wetter. Squelching noises echo around the cabin, and your thighs clench around Hayato, your ankles unconsciusly locking behind him.

“G-Gonna cum, Haya,” you mumble, and his eyes screw shut as he lets out a groan that’s so loud that you expect half the ship can hear you both (if they couldn’t already). “Cum on my cock, kitten,” he says, panting and opening his eyes and looking directly at you, “I know you can do it.”

And you do. This one hits you even harder than the last, your vision almost whiting out as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Along with your walls trembling around him, you can feel Hayato growing close; you’re not sure exactly what it looks or feels like when a fully-human man comes, but with the stuttering of his hips and the way his cock feels inside of you, it’s no secret he’s about to finish as well.

So, you find some crude bravery as you lean up and whisper in his ear.

“Cum inside of me, Hayato.”

He gasps. “Oh, fuck,” he gets out, trembling, before he’s spurting inside of you with a growl that makes every hair on your body stand up. He starts babbling against you, the dirty words weaving their way into your mind and making you shudder and shake around him as you finish together.

“Fuck, gonna fill this pretty little hole. You’re mine, you’re all mine, nobody else can touch you but me. Only me. This is my little hole, only mine, mine, mine.”

Eventually, his arms collapse and he drops onto your chest, heaving and panting as he presses a kiss to your chest. You’re no better, drawing in deep breaths as you come back to center, your vision clearing as you feel the blankets underneath you and Hayato’s body stuck to your own through sweat and other bodily fluids.

You lay like that for some time, his hand lazily scratching between your ears, pressing small kisses to your shoulder where he can reach without moving. He looks up at you then, a stupid grin on his face. It’s almost dopey.

“I never thought I’d meet a hybrid like you,” he says, and you scrunch your nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you shoot back, and he lets out a giggle that makes your chest feel warm and cozy. His hand cups your face, and he pulls you down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Only that I adore you.”

The sentence wraps itself around you, holding you comfortably as he cleans you both up, changing the blankets and producing fresh ones. You nestle into the bed, Hayato’s arms wrapping around you tightly, as if someone was going to crash into the cabin and take you away from him.

At least, that’s probably what he thought.

Feeling safe in his arms, you drift off, feeling more safe than you’ve felt in years.

He adores me.

And he does.

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

#suou hayato x reader #hayato suou x reader #wind breaker x reader #tw hybrids #ari's autographs

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gumycandyyy · 9 months

Note

Hey there! Your writing is OUTSTANDING! I was wondering if you could write a Winter King x fem!reader fic where the reader rescues him along with the scouts but ends up badly injured? And tee hee WK pampers her and takes care of her THE BRAIN ROT IS REAL

୨♡ "ＴｉｓＢｕｔＡＳｃｒａｔｃｈ" ♡୧

Type: Oneshot

Fem reader (I was originally gonna make her an ice creature, but she works better as... not an ice creature.) Someone please rq a male reader, I wanna write a male reader wahhhh

Request: Yes! Still open, but it'll take a while to write, as I have other requests.

No use of y/n

hurt/comfort (literally)

Summary: Winter King got kidnapped. Again. And you get hurt while saving him. Fluff ensues.

Word Count: 1278

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Ice Scouts? A little help?"

You looked up, hearing Winter King. You were training with the scouts, just having a gay old time sword fighting and skating. However, It appeared Candy Queen had made some giant type candy monster, and used it to snatch Winter right out of his throne room and carry him to the Candy Kingdom.

Great.

"Oh, you too..!"

Winter yelled just as he left earshot, obviously referring to you. You were the captain of the royal guard, and Winter's best friend. The ice scouts sheathed their swords, ready to leave immediately. They spoke to you in unison.

"Miss Captain! You must accompany us to save our King!"

You nodded, sheathing your sword. You guessed that Winter would be held at the top of the Candy tower/mountain thing, as always. You left swiftly, along with the scouts.

"Ice scouts! You take care of any candy monsters, I'll take care of the Queen!"

They nodded, ready to follow your every order. You eventually made it to the Candy kingdom, and climbed the mountain. You made it to the top, ducking and weaving around the monsters to get to Winter as soon as possible.

Kicking down the door, you saw Candy Queen playing her keyboard, as always. Winter was in his cage, scratching another tally mark in his 'times kidnapped' wall. His crown was on a small table just out of reach of the cage. Candy Queen looked at you and deadpanned.

"Aww, not again! C'mon, ya can't give me one afternoon alone with him? I'd take good care of him!!"

Candy bumped her pointer fingers together, trying to win your favor. It was honestly pitiful. She tried so hard, but still. She was a creep.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! I mean- You wouldn't miss him! I wouldn't scratch him up too bad! Well, unless..."

You looked over to Winter, who looked quite uncomfortable at the current topic, a strained smile on his 'save me from this maniac' face. You sighed, putting your hands at your sides.

"Fine."

Candy's eyes sparkled.

"You- you mean it?"

She bounced up and down on her heels, ready to give you a hug. No thanks. Winter looked shocked, and ready to pass away.

"Yeah, yeah- OF COURSE I DON'T MEAN IT."

You brought out your sword, flipping it around, and knocking the wind out of Candy with the hilt. She coughed, and you grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. You brought her over to a window, kicking it open and dangling her out of it.

"Come on, come on! Let's talk about this! Maybe we could share him? I get weekdays, you get weekends? Please?"

You deadpanned, ready to tell her off. Though her expression suddenly turned devious, and you heard something from behind you.

"Miss Captain! Watch out!"

You turned around sharply, pulling out your sword. You let go of Candy, but she was able to grab onto the windowsill and pull herself back inside.

A banana (At least you think it's a banana) guard roared in your face, and lunged at you. It seems the ice scouts missed this one. It clawed at your stomach, tearing the flesh and causing you to cry out in pain. The ice scouts broke open the cage, and gave Winter King his crown.

The next thing you knew, the banana guard was frozen in a block of ice, hovering right above you. It seems the blast also knocked Candy out. You cursed, getting out from underneath the guard. You were about to run to Winter, checking to see if he was okay, but you collapsed, clutching your stomach- which was bleeding profusely. Winter caught you before you hit the floor, and wrapped his arms around you.

"Are you o-"

Winter gasped, seeing your bloody midriff.

He almost started to panic, and ordered the ice scouts to go to the winter palace to prepare anything you might need. He started to pick you up in his arms, but you held your hand out to stop him.

"Winter, I can handle it. I'm captain of the royal guard for a reason-!"

You seethed, feeling air hit your open wound. You started to stand up, using Winter as an anchor. You stood up straight, breathing heavily. You started to walk on your own, however, you collapsed yet again, and fell into unconsciousness.

This is what you get for acting like you're invincible.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You woke up, breathing in cold air. You didn't need to open your eyes to know you were back in the Winter Kingdom. You felt something gripping your hand, and you were no longer in pain. Well.. Excruciating pain, at least. You fluttered open your eyes, trying to get used to the bright blue light of the palace.

"Y- You're awake! I.."

You looked over to Winter King, who was sitting at your bedside, holding your hand. He looked disheveled and tired. He took his hands away to adjust his glasses, and cleared his throat.

"N- Now that I know you're... Okay.. I-"

He seemed unusually somber, which was way out of character, especially for him.

"How long was I out?"

"..."

"Winter. How long was I out."

"..."

"Four days."

Woah. You left your King unprotected, for four days. And judging by the dull throb where your wound was healing, it would be much longer than that. You sat up sharply, then felt a stabbing pain. You seethed and rested your hand on your midriff.

"I'm so sorry Winter, ah- My king. I can't believe I've left you unprotected for that lo-" "Shut up."

"Pardon?"

"I said, shut up."

Winter's expression was pained, and he seemed to be very conflicted with his emotions.

"You think I care about that? Why would I care about not being protected when I could have lost you!?"

He had stood up. His voice was raised and shaky. He looked as if he was about to start sobbing. He then looked just as surprised at his emotional outburst as you were.

"I.."

"I don't know what came over me, that.. What just happened, it.." "It shouldn't be possible..."

"Pardon me?"

Winter brushed his strange behavior off, and sat back down. He took your hand in his, and spoke in a calm manner.

"I apologize. What I meant, is I could care less about myself right now. I was worried you would die, haha!"

There it was. His strange optimism, though.. It felt kind of good to see him so emotional. It just went to show how much he really cared about you. You took your hand back, and moved it up to cup his face, his soft hair ticking the skin on your hand.

"Thank you."

Winter's cheeks turned pink, a nice contrast to his normal pale blue. He laughed softly, turning his face slightly away from you.

"It's what anyone would do."

He smiled sweetly at you, turning his face back to you. He stood up, bending over you to place a soft kiss on your forehead. Your face flushed, and you looked away nervously. You laughed together in a wonderful kind of oddity, before Winter stood up fully.

"Well, I suppose I should get back to ruling my Winter Wonder World, shouldn't I? If you need anything, ask me. I want to be the one to take care of you."

You nodded in response, and watched Winter gracefully glide towards the door. You snuggled up in the sheets and blankets you were surrounded by, and before Winter left, you asked him a question.

"Wait, what room am I in?"

"Oh, mine."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Oh man, I loved this one. Here's your complimentary WK art ^^

reblog for a beginner writer?

#fandom #winter king fanart #winter king x reader #the winter king #winter king #x reader #hurt/comfort #he's so babygirl #fionna and cake x reader #fionna and cake #ice scouts #winter king x female reader #selfshipping community #oc x canon #fanfiction #fanart

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mlmshipbracket · 2 months

Text

ROUND 4: POLL #4

ROUND 4 POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Eustass Kid/Killer:

If this ain't love idk what is.

Crowley/Aziraphale:

Literally THE demon and angel ship. Spent thousands of years dancing around each other since they were so opposite even though they loved each other.

#eustass kid #killer one piece #eustass kid/killer #kidkiller #one piece #crowley #aziraphale #crowley/aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2024 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2024 #fourthr4

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hugshughes · 11 months

Text

behind my back N. Moyle

Nolan Moyle x Hughes!reader (Quinn’s twin)

synopsis - Luke finds out about your secret relationship with his captain, and he is not happy. He ends up causing your relationship to crumble under his emotions but soon is whipped back into shape and realizes the world doesn’t revolve around him, and that he should want your happiness, not try to end it.

wc - 2.9k

contains - reader is quinn hughes’ twin sister, suggestive themes close to the end, making out, kissing, shouting, lots of cursing (luke has a potty mouth), i made luke a bit mean for parts of this, crying, reader is shorter than nolan, mentions of eating/reader eats, lmk if i missed anything!

an - hey! first post on this new blog! i hope you like it, please don’t mind any errors this was slightly proofread, and i don’t love this but i warned to post something and noticed the severe lack of Nolan fics on here! (i kinda wanna make maybe a smutty part 2 so lmk.)

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Is the first thing you hear when you answer an incoming call from your little brother. Your face drops and Nolan must’ve noticed because he’s looking at you with a confused look on his face, mouthing ‘Are you okay?’ to you. You don’t respond to Nolan.

“What Luke? What’s up?”

You think you know what’s up. You have a gut feeling that what’s up is that you are in a relationship with his captain, a secret one at that.

“‘What’s up?’ Are you joking? You’re fucking Nolan behind my fucking back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You can’t respond, you don’t know how to. You open and close your mouth, making eye contact with Nolan again, who looks very concerned now.

“What? You can’t speak now? Your mouth won’t open? It was open fucking wide for my fucking captain, wasn’t it? God, what the actual fuck is wrong with you? You can’t keep your legs closed for one second, can you? Fuck!”

“Luke I- I’m sorry.”

You mewled out, he had just practically slut shamed you, there were tears all along your waterline, just waiting to fall off your lashes and down your face.

“Oh, you’re sorry? That’s nice, but it doesn’t take away the fact that you fucked him, does it? When he decides he’s done with you it could fuck up the team’s dynamic! Have you even thought about me for two seconds?”

“All I have done is thought about you, Luke! I wanted to tell you the second it started but I knew you would react like this! Like- like you would flip the fuck out! I really fucking care about him Luke, please just listen to me!”

Luke just wouldn’t stop, he kept shouting cruel things, and Nolan just couldn’t take watching you sit there, sobbing, while you’re brother used you as a punching bag. He grabbed the phone from your hand and put it to his ear.

“Hey Luke! Man-”

Luke scoffs, angrily laughing then huffing out a sigh.

“Of course she’s with you! What the fuck, dude?”

“Luke man please, neither of us planned for this to happen. We really fuckin’ care for each other. She’s been torn up about you not knowing for months, please hear us out.”

“‘Us’? Oh my God! ‘Us’? That’s fucking funny. I cannot believe either of you. God, fuck! When you two decide you're done having fun it’s gonna fuck shit up, big time. Fuck you, and her.”

Luke hung up the phone. You buried your face in your hands. Nolan put your phone down before he pulled you into him, his hand running up and down your back while the other cradles your head.

“I’m so sorry Nolan! I just fucked up everything, fuck!” He just shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth on your bed.

It was three days later. Nolan called you last night and said how the last two days of practice had been shit, the tension very thick. He told you how he needed to put the team first with the upcoming playoffs, and how that meant he needed to be able to be the best captain he could be, meaning no bad blood between him and his teammates, so he broke up with you.

You have been so completely tore up. Laying in your bed in the dark in a sweatshirt you didn’t want to have to give back to Nolan. You hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning. The sun was beginning to set as you stared at your ceiling.

Your roommate has been an angel, talking to you, sitting with you, bringing you water, and offering you food. Luke had texted Jack about the situation, and Jack had texted Quinn about it, leaving the most mature of the Hughes’ boys to text you, and your mother.

Quinn had asked if you were okay, and felt terrible for you when you informed him of Nolan ending it because of Luke. Your mother had texted you, asking if you were alright, getting the full story from you before sending a long-winded message to your baby brother, reading:

“Luke Warren. I cannot believe the way you’ve treated your sister. Your words were not warranted in any way whatsoever. Have you noticed your sister’s level of happiness in the last 7 months? She went from always uninvolved and cut off from us to an absolute light of a girl. When I called and talked to her today she sounded absolutely broken down. When I say get your head out of your butt Luke, I mean it. Your sister deserves to be happy Luke, just as much as you do, and if you’re okay with taking that away because of a hypothetical problem that happens between her and Nolan, I am very disappointed. You better realize how ignorant you’re being and make this up to her. She loves you, Luke, so much. She is still the girl who let you sleep in her bed whenever you had nightmares, the girl that would shout at your brothers the second she saw you being left out. She deserves this Luke, and you need to realize that, because now Nolan’s broken up with her, and I don’t know if she is going to be okay.”

That being the first thing Luke saw on his phone after practice definitely surprised him. He let out a curse the second he saw his first two names in a text from his mother. The more he read, the shittier he felt. When he reach the end though, he was confused. ‘Nolan broke up with her?’ Was his only thought. He quickly looked around the locker room, trying to see if Nolan was still there, but he wasn’t. Nolan had felt like shit all of practice, Luke still barely talking to him. He left immediately after practice was over, going straight back to his place.

Luke cursed again, he got ready to leave and quickly walked back to the house so he could drive to your apartment. Once he got there he waited not so patiently before your roommate finally buzzed him in. He ran up the stairs and down the hall to your door, knocking loudly.

Your roommate let him in, not without mumbling ‘the fuck do you want, bitch?’ and rolling her eyes at him. She let him go back to where your room is, after making sure he wasn’t here to shout at you again.

You’re not surprised when you hear a knock on your door, but you are when you shout ‘Come in’ and see Luke standing in your doorframe. Your eyes widen, your heart sinking into your ass.

“Oh.”

It’s all you could say. You felt frozen, assuming Luke was here to be mad at you some more like he was over the phone. The more you look at him, you realize he doesn’t look mad per se, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry.”

You almost laugh out of surprise. You find it hilarious that he’s apologizing after the verbal abuse you took from him just three days ago. You don’t reply, looking him straight in the eyes, raising your eyebrows in expectation, needing him to say more.

“Shit, I- I am such a dick. It was so fuckin’ selfish of me to say that to you. I mean, yeah I would’ve liked to have known but uh, it was still so shitty of me. Please, please forgive me. And I know that I already fucked things up and that you probably won’t accept this but still, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and when Grano accidentally mentioned you guys I just flipped out. The shit I said was wrong, I don’t think anything I said is true, I know it isn’t. I just, I’m so sorry.”

He looked absolutely pitiful. He was on the verge of crying. You stood from your bed and moved to him, wrapping your arms around him, he clung to you.

“Lu, don’t cry. Okay? It’s alright, what you said was shitty, but I should’ve just told you, alright? It probably would’ve saved a lot of screaming and tears. I’m glad mom got the stick out of your ass, huh?”

Luke lets out a teary laugh. Nodding into your shoulder, even though he was much bigger than you, he was still your baby brother. The way you were holding him made you think of when he was 5 and you were 7 and for six months he stayed in your room almost every night because he would have nightmares, and even if he didn’t have nightmares sometimes, he just felt safer with his big sister.

“‘M so sorry. Was gonna try to talk to Nolan after practice but he was already gone, so I just came here.”

You let out a sigh at the mention of Nolan. You were assuming that Luke doing this was also him telling you that he was okay with your relationship. But, after all the drama you weren’t sure Nolan would let you just run back into his arms.

“I dunno if it’s even worth it talking to Nolan, I don’t know if he’ll want to get back together after all this drama. He might just be good with it now.

Luke felt like absolute shit. None of this would’ve happened if hadn’t have been so irrational. He let out a sigh, pulling away from you.

“I am gonna go get you food, okay? I’ll get you tenders from Skeeps, huh?”

You laughed at your little brother’s effort.

“Lu, it’s Wednesday. Skeeps isn’t open.”

His face quickly fell. But he quickly shook it off.

“Whatever, I’m going to get you somethin’. Text me if you want something specific, okay?”

You nodded and laughed as he quickly left your room, saying bye to your roommate who after came to your room to see if everything was okay before hugging you.

Luke is gonna get you food, but he is also gonna call Nolan and apologize, and make him go to your place and be your boyfriend again.

The second he’s in his car his phone is to his ear, waiting for Nolan to pick up. He knows there is a chance Nolan won’t pick up, but he’s pushing that out of his thoughts. He almost gives up on the phone call but on what was probably the last possible ring, Nolan answered the phone.

“Uh hey man, what’s up?”

Nolan is very confused as to why Luke is calling him, knowing he’s barely sent him a glance over the last two days.

“Hey, Nolan. Bro, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. It was really shitty of me to say all those things to you guys and I was a real dick. I was acting totally out of nowhere because I was just really shocked I think.”

Luke took a pause, waiting for Nolan to say something before he took the conversation in another direction.

“Oh, um wow man. Yeah um it’s okay man, we should’ve told you. But uh, you know I broke up with her last night?”

“Yes I know, please go be her fuckin’ boyfriend again. She is so fucked right now. I didn’t even fucking realize how much happier she’d been recently, and now that I know you caused that, I can’t be the one to take that away from her. And I already talked to her about it but she was worried you might not like, want to be with her still. Bro, please go get her back.”

Nolan sits shocked. Shocked about Luke’s change of heart, and shocked that you believed he wouldn’t want you still. He stood from his seat on the couch of his living room and quickly grabbed his keys and put on his slides before practically running to his car, only wearing a tank top, sweatpants, and socks in the frigidity of January nights in Michigan. He says a few more things to Luke before he hangs up.

Nolan is barely thinking about anything when he parked in the lot of your building and was a little surprised at how quickly he was buzzed in.

Your roommate answered the door when Nolan quickly knocked, letting him in and telling him your whereabouts. You were surprised at how quickly Luke had gotten food when you heard a frantic knock on your door.

“You don’t have to knock Luke, just come in!”

“Uh, not Luke.”

You turned to face your door from your seat at your desk where you were lighting a candle, one Nolan had gotten you multiple times because you burned through them so quickly.

“Oh, Nol hi.”

Nolan standing in your doorway left you stunned, his grey sweatpants and black tank top that highlighted his huge arms made your mind go blank. You are thankful you spent a few minutes brushing your hair and cleansing your face after Luke left.

“Hey, um Luke called me, told me everything he told you probably.”

You suck in a breath, nodding. You stand and fully face him, but before you can even say anything, Nolan’s already wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve ended things. I was just so nervous about Luke hating me and being captain but I really should not have done that. I’m sorry baby.”

You held him, running your fingers through his long hair.

“‘S okay, baby. Made total sense okay? But, I think now that my brother doesn’t have his head in his ass, you should be my boyfriend again.”

He pulled away from your neck to look at you, now taller than you, looking down at you, which was so hot.

“Yeah? I think so too.”

The way he said it was, so hot. He is just so hot. He looks from your eyes down to your lips, and then back up, and you swear your knees almost buckled. And when he leaned in and kissed you, he was practically holding you up.

Even though you’d only been broken up for probably 26 hours, it felt like so much longer, and the sweet kiss quickly turned into a makeout session. You walked Nolan back until he was sat on your bed as you sat down and straddled him, not breaking your kiss.

Nolan’s grip on your hips is tight as his tongue slips past your lips, causing you to gasp. Your hands clutch Nolan’s dark brown hair, tugging at the locks when you feel the tent in his pants grow beneath you, pulling a groan from him.

Nolan was about to start rocking your hips against his hard-on when your door was practically thrown open, the knob on the other side hitting your wall. You immediately pull away from Nolan, almost falling off his lap if it wasn’t for his strong grip on the backs of your thighs.

When you both see Luke, Chick-fil-A bag in hand, standing frozen at your doorway you don’t know what to do.

“Fuck, Luke! Knock or something!”

You quickly stand up almost tripping over Nolan’s feet as you practically run over to your door, pushing Luke out and then standing on the outside of your door as you close it.

You stand, back pressed against your bedroom door as Luke looks at you with a look that would normally be funny, but right now you’re just a little pissed, flustered, and dazed. You both just stand, staring at each other. Both trying to grip the fact that Luke just walked in on your very heated makeout session with his captain, his captain.

“Oh my God, what the fuck? I think I’m gonna puke, yeah, I’m definitely gonna puke.”

You slap his arm, giving him a look that reminded him of your mom, which made him smile.

“I cannot believe you guys are... ugh. I cannot believe I brought you food just to see that when I opened your door, you are truly disgusting.”

“I hate you so much. You are the worst. What did you get me?”

Luke laughs out loud at that, giving you your food before he claimed he had to go so he could bleach his eyes before the sight of you and Nolan set into his memory. But after that, he hugged you and told you he loved you, saying that he’ll see you when you’re not being so gross.

You walk him out, shouting that you love him as he quickly walks down the hall of your apartment’s floor. You talk to your roommate for a minute, then decide it’s time to go back and see your man. The man in question is kicked back on the pink fluffy blanket decorating your bed, a sight to see.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey, is he gonna be okay? Didn’t mean to give the kid trauma or anything.”

You let out a laugh, reassuring Nolan that your brother is just dramatic, and not traumatized. Then you snuggle up next to him, eating your Chick-fil-A and feeding your fries to Nolan as you both talk about everything, from what new song you wanted him to listen to, to making plans for the summer, him staying at the lake house for a few weeks, you coming with him to New York to meet his family, it was all so exciting. You’re definitely glad that the secret was out because now you can be with him, like really be with him.

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