#I lost the plot but SHAKES LIKE A DOG | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wraithlafitte · 3 months

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crazy on you

pairing: soulless! sam x reader

CONTENT: smut RIGHT under the cut, porn what plot, dom/sub dynamic, s&m, unprotected p in v, usage of sir, bondage, marking, slapping/spanking, riding, dacryphilia, overstim, multiple organisms for both, light possessiveness, choking, pain kink? ig goes with s&m

word count: 2.9k

a/n: prompts used by @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 "Phrases/Actions that have my legs divorcing" @smaoineamhsalach "smutty dialogue prompts" @creativepromptsforwriting "smutty one-liners". all can be found in my master prompt list, linked in main masterlist. dividers by @cafekitsune

nothin' left to do at night / but go crazy on you

The door to the hotel room you were staying in slammed, making you fly bolt upright in bed. You relaxed when you saw that it was only Sam, the guy you had been hanging out with (and fucking) all week. His broad shoulders stretched beneath his worn flannel as he unloaded his pockets onto the side table, followed by a pistol from his waistband.

You didn't really know what it was that Sam did all day, sometimes night, or for a living. You had some inkling that it was violent, seeing as how he often came back bloodied (not always his own). But damn, gangster or not, he was good in bed, so you didn't ask questions.

Tonight he looked okay. The only flaws on his face were bruises from the week past, nothing fresh. His warm brown hair was messy, sure, and when he turned around, you saw that his t-shirt was dark with something that was probably blood, but if he had been fighting, the other guy lost.

"Hey," you called softly, voice thick with sleep. His head snapped towards you like he had forgotten you were there. "Welcome back. Kind of late."

Sam walked toward you slowly like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes glinted in the darkness. "It's only two."

Your heartbeat quickened, knowing what came next. This was the routine: Sam left for hours, came back beat up, then fucked you into tomorrow. You weren't sure when the man slept. You had resigned yourself to taking short naps while he was away.

"You're not how I left you," Sam observed.

Shit. He had told you to stay naked after your escapades last night and to be in bed when he came back. You had only fulfilled half of his requirements.

"I-I had to leave to get food," you offered lamely, knowing full well he had left you a credit card to get room service.

"Right," he said slowly, creeping closer. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and down to your core.

"I'm sorry," you said, crawling backwards against the headboard. Sam tilted his head. "Sir," you added quickly.

The corners of Sam's mouth quirked up momentarily. "Strip."

"You first," you retorted, a rush of confidence emboldening you.

"Behave, I wouldn't want to punish you now." He looked at you warningly and finally touched down on the edge of the mattress.

You gulped and nodded, making quick work of your pajamas. You hadn't bothered to wear any underwear. "Make it even," you told him, shivering in the air-conditioned room.

Sam's head tilted in the other direction, almost like a dog. "Who do you think is in charge here?" he asked, voice dangerously calm.

You took a deep breath and shakily said, "I just wanna see you."

He chuckled, shaking his head, and peeled off his flannel, followed by the t-shirt that was damp with blood and sweat. "Better?" Sam asked, but the way he said it was almost mocking, like you were pathetic for asking.

His large hands gripped your knees where they were bunched up at your chest and spread your legs apart. He looked down at your pussy hungrily and ran a finger through your dampening folds. Your eyes closed at the sensation and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. After a week of being pounded into the mattress for hours at a time, you were more sensitive than you'd ever been in your life.

You felt him grip your wrists and shove them above your head. You opened your eyes to see him grab a blue tie that had been on the nightstand for days and use it to secure your wrists to the headboard.

You whined and pulled against your restraints. Sam just laughed triumphantly and got up from his seat on the edge of the bed.

"Not fair," you complained as he took the opportunity to remove the rest of his clothes. He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom for a minute, you heard water running, and then he was back, sans blood. He approached the bed slowly, lustfully. The look in his eyes was animalistic, and you had been around him enough to know that it pretty much was. You closed your legs instinctively, drawing back into yourself.

Sam kneeled over you and spread your legs again, more roughly this time. "Do I have to tie your legs down too?"

"No sir," you squeaked.

He grabbed your face and hummed, turning it side to side, fingers digging into your skin. You shivered at his touch, somehow giving you so much and so little at the same time. His head swooped down and he began kissing you aggressively, tongue invading your mouth. The taste of him had become so familiar, you relaxed in his hold.

Then Sam released you with a pop and started biting at the skin on your neck and chest, following the marks he had mapped out days before, darkening them. You arched your back into him, straining at your bonds.

"Sam," you moaned shamelessly.

He took your nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth. You gasped and pitched your hips up into him. His hand came down to your stomach, holding you down firmly.

Sam took his mouth off your breast and blew cold air over the spit he left behind. "Come on baby, if you want something, use your words."

You shivered intensely. "Just fuck me already," you whined.

He delivered a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. You jumped. "Language."

"Sorry, sir," you breathed. "Please."

Sam smirked approvingly, moving up to sit against the headboard beside you. He lifted you up and turned you around so that you were straddling him, twisting your bonds so your arms were around his neck. He dragged his wet mouth up your sternum, breath hot against your skin.

You ground against his hard cock with lips pursed, staring him in the eye, daring him to do something about it. Sam didn't care much about making you use your words in that moment, and lined his cock up with your entrance.

You sunk down gladly, feeling yourself stretch around his length. He swallowed a groan, gritting his teeth and giving you that look again. He was restraining himself. For the time being, you were thankful, because you definitely needed to cum at least once before letting him loose on your body.

Sam's hands fell on your hips, urging you to lift up and start moving. You started bouncing on his cock, hips slamming together, his tip hitting the deepest part of your pussy and still not fitting all the way. Your thighs started to burn and shake and you put more of your weight on your arms, using your bonds to pull yourself up. But you couldn't keep it up and started slowing down, whimpering.

The pain seared up your legs into your dripping core. You could come just like this, you thought. Just clenching around him, staying still. Pain sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You closed your eyes and focused on the knot forming in your stomach, willing it to come undone.

But of course, Sam wouldn't let you. He slapped your ass, bringing you back down to earth. "Come on," he growled. You protested, opening your eyes. "You have to work for it."

"Help me," you whispered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you dragged yourself up and fell again.

"No," he said bluntly. He was smiling coldly, actually enjoying your suffering.

You let out something like a broken sob and began riding him again, slower than before as the muscles in your legs cried out for reprieve. Sam kept his hands on your hips, guiding you as minimally as possible, still making you do most of the work.

"Good," he growled. "Keep going."

He bit kisses into your jaw as you rode him, grinding your clit against his hips, head thrown back. Your breasts bounced as you heaved yourself up and down in a broken rhythm, feeling his cock drag through you unpredictably as your hips stuttered.

After minutes of slow building, the knot inside you suddenly snapped, and you were cumming around his cock before you knew what was happening. "Ah- fuck, fuck," you moaned. You couldn't find the strength to keep fucking yourself with him anymore and dropped.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned as you came fully seated on him, feeling the deepest parts of your walls gripping him like a vice.

You collapsed against his chest, exhausted, your arms suspended above you limply. You felt him tugging at your restraints and they came free, allowing your arms to drop to your sides. Then, he lifted you off his dick and let you fall to the mattress on your back.

Sam was back inside you almost instantly, allowing you little time to recover before he was pumping into you roughly. He propped up your legs, allowing them to fall open on either side of his hips as he fucked you into the mattress.

You could hardly catch your breath with the way he was on you, kissing and biting your lips and jaw. Another orgasm started building inside you, faster than you would've liked. Sam sure knew how to draw them out of you, thrusting at a pace that built the most friction and hit your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure to have you squirming beneath him in seconds. He had learned your body well over the past several days.

You came again with a cry, pleasure washing over you blindingly fast, but Sam showed no signs of stopping, instead doubling down. Tears streamed down your face as he pressed your wrists into the pillow by your head, a feral expression covering his face as he drilled into you.

"Yeah, keep fuckin' comin' for me baby," he growled. A whimper fell from your lips. He didn't even seem close. You had no idea how he had this kind of stamina, especially since you weren't sure if he slept.

Suddenly he released one of your wrists to reach down to the place you were connected, rubbing your clit vigorously. You moaned desperately, hand flying to his shoulder and clawing at his back. He threw his head back and moaned himself, pace faltering.

"Yeah? You like it when I do that, huh," he gritted out. Your nails dug into his shoulder, breaking skin as you came around his cock for the third time.

"Sam!" You practically screamed his name, restrained hand flexing into the air, desperate for something to grasp. Sam grunted and kept thrusting into you, fucking you through your high, and then you felt his warmth seep into you as he followed.

He pulled out and sat back on his knees, continuing to rub your clit as your hands grabbed the pillow behind your head in an effort to lighten the overwhelming sensation.

"Oh god Sam, fuck- stop, please, sir," you blabbered. You opened your eyes to see him stroking his cock to you in the same rhythm as he rubbed your clit; slow at first, but picking up speed in response to your moaning and writhing.

Sam smiled unfeelingly, showing no mercy. "Can't you handle it, baby?" he asked wickedly.

Your hips bucked of their own accord. "Yes, I can- fuck, I can handle it," you whined, eyes wide and shiny, staring desperately at him.

The look on his face alone was enough to send you careening over the edge again, thrashing in his grip as you chased more. More sensation, more of his touch, just more of him. You could feel your mascara melting down your face as involuntary tears flooded out.

You felt him spread your folds with two fingers, smearing your wetness around your pussy and thighs. You jolted as his fingers skated over your clit. "So fucking pretty," he growled. "If only you could see how your pretty pussy is leaking my cum. All pink and puffed up just for me."

Your breath came out in little moans as you struggled to think of a response. "Water," came your voice, barely recognizable to yourself. You tried to sit up and find the glass you'd set by the bed.

Sam grabbed you by the throat and threw you back down. "We're not done yet."

You whimpered, looking up at him to find that same cruel glimmer in his eyes. You felt another pang of arousal rush your body. The way he controlled you was toxic, you knew, but it also turned you on insanely to be thrown around and used like a limp rag doll.

Sam's smile was strangely devoid of emotion as he looked you over, his gaze ending on your face. He wiped your wet cheek with his palm. "Don't cry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need."

His words were sweet but his expression was deadly. You suddenly found yourself wondering what would happen to you once Sam left. Would he just leave you behind, imprisoned by his memory?

Perhaps it would be your blood staining his shirt one day.

Better to seize the moment while it's still here. You laced your fingers up Sam's neck, grabbing him by the hair, and pulled him down roughly to meet your lips in a messy kiss. He growled into your mouth and gripped your waist tightly. His body weight crushed down on you as he slowly thrust his half-hard cock back inside you. You gasped, the walls of your pussy fluttering at the sensation.

Sam hissed, nose and lips pressed into your neck. His long hair brushed against your cheek. You hooked your legs around him, wanting him closer than was humanly possible.

"Come on, Sammy, fu-uuck," you breathed, nipping his ear.

He jolted up, eyes narrowing on you. His hand was instantly back on your throat, and your own flew up to meet it.

"Don't call me that," he said sharply. His hand tightened below your jawline. You grasped weakly at his fingers. You were becoming lightheaded, but his bruising grip was all you wanted.

Your lips tried to form the words I'm sorry, but no sound would come out. Sam started driving into you, holding you where he wanted you by your neck. With each thrust, the pressure on your neck increased, then decreased. Increased, decreased. You gasped in air on the upstrokes and let yourself become dizzy on the down strokes.

Fire blazed in your core, and you weren't sure if you were cumming again or if you just never stopped. Sam hit deep inside you every time, and soon the pleasure was constant and the pain was fading away. Or maybe it was the opposite. You couldn't tell anymore. You could hardly think anymore, Sam the only thing on your mind.

His hand wrapped around your neck. The weight of him on top of you. The feeling of his cock splitting you open for... was it the fifth time tonight?

"Sam," you rasped, eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your neck loosened for a moment.

"What?" Sam almost looked angry. He always looked angry, seeming like he had some pent-up rage about something to get out.

"Hurt me," you begged. "Do whatever you want, don't stop- ah!"

Sam squeezed your neck once harshly and let go, hand flying to your thigh, scooping your leg up and pressing it forward, calf resting on his shoulder. He slapped your ass sharply, followed by a slap to your face. You cried out in surprise.

"Such a fucking slut," he grunted, pounding into you harder than you thought possible, his tip bruising your cervix, causing a pleasant ache to rise in you. You couldn't even hope to respond, breath coming out in short pants and gasps.

Pain lit your core on fire, mirroring the blaze in Sam's eyes. You came faintly, feeling exhaustion set in and becoming aware of the layer of sweat that covered your body, dripping onto the sheets.

Sam's skin shone with sweat too, but he glowed. You could only lie there and take it, imagining how worn you looked compared to the god of a man above you.

"Good fuckin' girrrll," he said, sounding strained. His brow knitted together, eyes closed, as his rhythm began to falter once more.

"Give- give it to me," you stuttered, struggling to catch your breath. "Fuck, sir- please!"

Sam's arms scooped underneath you, holding you tightly against his body as he buried his cock deep inside you. His voice cracked as he groaned deeply, pressing into you as far as he could as he released inside you again, shuddering.

It was still for a moment. Sam held you caged in between his big arms, breathing heavily, your hips closely attached. Then he raised his head from where it had dropped into the crook of your neck and fell on your lips, kissing you roughly, letting out the last of his energy for now. You kissed him back with fervor, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other embedded in his bicep.

Sam pulled out, releasing your mouth with one last wet suck, and rolled to your side, pulling you with him to hold you tightly. You traced your fingers dazedly up and down his torso, blinking heavily as exhaustion threatened to take over.

Strangely, Sam didn't seem tired. At least, he didn't seem like he was going to fall asleep, like most men would after going that many rounds. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about something you would never learn. But you had come to expect this from him. He would hold you selfishly until morning, and then he would be gone again, leaving you weak and horny and unsure if he would return in one piece.

You supposed if he didn't sleep, there wouldn't be much else to do at night. You were sure this wouldn't last, he would move on and find another girl to pass the time inflicted by his insomnia. When he left, you would remember how he had made you feel, picturing his face with every other partner, always hoping he would come back and rock your world just once more.

#supernatural x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #supernatural smut #spn #spn smut #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #userwraith

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beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

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Shiver Me Timbers! (18+)

pairing: pirate captain!seungcheol x siren!reader

genre: fantasy au, smut, pure smut with a fair amount of plot imo (MNDI pls), a little angst at the end

description: as seungcheol's ship drags up the shore, you watch from afar, eyes on the prize

warnings: PIRATE DIRTY TALK HELP, SLIGHT DUBCON bc hes u know a little under her spell, unrealistic ass transformation from fish 2 person, desperation, big dumb whiny cheol, bottom!cheol, kinda switch!reader, teasing, tiddie play, tiddie sucking, fairly graphic character death (drowning), seungcheol fucks yn like a ragdoll hihi, hes still bottom here tho, yn just has her tiddies OUT #progressive #2023

quotes from my proofreader: "I WAS WET!!", "he is soooo silly and sexy"

wordcount: 3.0k

“Anchor comin’ down!”

“Aye!”

There’s a mighty splash when the rusty anchor collides with the surface of the water. The chain clinks as it plummets, until it’s kicking up a storm on the sandy seafloor and the ship is safely secured. The Barbaric Seventeen is rocking like a mother rocks her young, gently swinging from the onslaught of waves from the North.

“Another safe map-navigation performed by the great Woozi!” Seungcheol speaks from where he’s perched on the head of the ship, one knee bent to sit his foot atop the wooden railing. He’s half bathed in sunlight, hot from the scorching sun over the endless sea. The shipmates clap and cheer, the odd clunk joining the cacophony from the members with missing hands. “Now go!” he commands, “Go find me my treasure, boys! It shan’t be much of a challenge for ye’s anyway!”

“Ye’s not comin’, Captain?” Mingyu calls from where the lot of them are crowding the planked deck, eyes squinted to stare at his silhouette in the sun. Seungcheol’s hat rustles as he shakes his head. “Naye, brother Mingyu. Today I will guard the Barbaric Seventeen,” he answers and pats the wooden railing like a dog.

The crewmates bugger off, one large group padding along the coast with their hooks and their scars and their swords in their belts.

“Don’t be tempted by pretty ladies out here, brother Jun!” Seokmin advises, gloomily. “There be sirens in these waters!”

“Don’t scare the kid, brother Seokmin,” Wonwoo snaps, standing on the other side of Jun, who looks at the two of them, lost and a little scared. “Sirens aren’t real.”

“Tell that to Jeremy!” Seokmin retorts, “RIP.” And then their voices are fading into the distance.

Seungcheol hardly notices their conversation, as he’s placed himself on a gathering of finely-churned sand, squinting into the sun-lit sea from the shadow of his Captain’s hat. His jacket, much too warm for the every beating rays above, has been discarded beside him, and now his chest peeks through a thin, muddied white shirt. Forever enchanted by the gentle breathing, the rise and fall of the sea, he’s quick to see you.

At first it’s simply a diamond-glisten under the surface of the water - Seungcheol knew the shine of gems, knew the way they reflected and captured the light - he half-sits up, biceps flexing as he peers in. Then, he catches the movement of something long and blue and scaly. The coasting water kisses his bare feet.

You’re smiling in the water, long, flowing hair like seaweed in the ever-turning tides. You’d spotted the ship miles back, and had followed discreetly under it. Now there’s a man alone on the shore, and you’re splashing your tail teasingly above the surface of the water, soft, rhythmic taps, beckoning him closer. Then you open your mouth and begin to sing.

Seungcheol’s stumbling to his knees, crawling on the sand. There’s a beautiful, intoxicating hum coming from the seafloor and he must, he must hear it for himself. Crawling until the water is reaching his chest, you finally strike.

Your head bursts from the water, splashing salty liquid onto the man, who’s gaping at the soft tunes from your ruby lips. You’re pushing your sopping hair back, eyes falling on him, sitting back on his knees now. You giggle, humming gently, when you lean into him. His eyes catch a diamond around your neck - the one he’d seen under the sloping water.

You’re the most beautiful woman - woman? - he’s even seen, and your chest is bare and glistening wet in the sunlight, and your cheeks are red and eyes sly. You’re leaning into him, hand brushing over his sculpted chest, poorly hidden from the soaked shirt, and you smell like the sea - you smell like home.

“Hi there,” you giggle, biting your lip at him. He’s so befuddled by you, he lets out a strangled moan at just the sight of you, before he’s recollecting himself.

“Hi,” he breathes, awestruck. He’s almost cute, you think, hip jutting into the wet sand beneath you. His eyes - unfortunately - sway downwards to your tail, and his eyebrows are furrowing. Wait a minute, he thinks, was this not what Seokmin was just talking about? “What are ye’s?” he asks, because something in his body is oozing fear, filling him like water cascades into a drowning man, and the spell is broken.

For an instant.

You see it immediately, the way the adoration leaves his eyes, and something reminiscent of disgust overtakes him at your fishy parts. Thinking fast, you grab his bigger hand in your own and press it to your chest. “Oh,” he breathes, flushing, and he’s looking at your chest, and the way it expands when you heave a breath to sing for him.

A song flows from your lungs and dances in circles around Seungcheol’s head. He can’t even remember what he was thinking about before, just feels his dick harden in his pants. Dazed and confused, the only thing grounding him is his hand, frozen on your chest and covered by your own. You smile, because he’s opening up to you like the shell of a clam.

“I’m a mermaid, silly. Don’t you want to touch me?” you whisper teasingly, emphasizing by shaking your chest and letting your tits jiggle right in front of him. He whimpers and nods, and you eye the hard-on in his lap, big and stretching the fabric of the pants to their limit. You look around, eyes catching the rock-quarry at the end of the beach, but seeing no one nearby. Then, you clumsily stretch yourself from your heavy, heavy tail, hand fondling him through the fabric. “You gotta pull me up,” you command, voice strained from the movement, and humid breath hitting his lips. He’s hissing and bucking into your hand, unable to comprehend your request.

“What?” he whines, panting and looking at your lips. Your tail is heavy as an anchor when on land, and the position is killing your back, so squeeze his chin between your fingers and grit your teeth at him. “Pull me onto land.”

He’s nodding dumbly and without even an ounce of effort, he grabs you by your waist and pushes the two of you onto dry sand. You’re immediately covered in a salve of small sand particles and moaning, really moaning, because this man is so big and strong, but so dumb, he had no trouble lifting you all the way onto land.

As soon as you’re out of the water, the diamond around your neck is glowing, turning hot against your collarbones, and Seungcheol is groaning, squeezing his eyes shut and holding a hand to shield himself from its intensity.

It stops, he sees the back of his eyelids darken and peeks open one eye, unable to help the little gasp that escapes him. You’re lying on your stomach in front of him and your tail is gone, replaced with soft human legs. Without a thought, he reaches over to touch the skin of your slippery wet new legs. You giggled at his dumbfounded expression, when his hand glides up from your thigh and squeezes your ass.

“You like it?” you chirp, and he chuckles breathlessly. “Aye.”

You push at him, crawling into his lap, all naked and soft and ready for him, hands on his chest, soothing the muscles. “That’s why we needed to be on land, silly.” You smile at him, sitting completely still in his lap, where your pussy is pressed into his crotch, and you’re nonchalantly, he feels foolish for being so beet-faced and nervous. “Well?” you begin, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “take off your clothes, dumbo!”

At your whim, he’s scrambling underneath you, shirt practically ripping, as he tears it off. His chest is so, so pretty - pale and defined and expanding into your hands. You watch him struggle with a fond smile, as you sit completely still on his crotch, even when he’s pulling his pants off. Your weight makes it damn near impossible to shimmy off. He doesn’t dare tell you to move though. Seungcheol feels like the luckiest man in the world, because your pussy is leaking onto his pants. Miraculously, he escapes the garments, and he looks up at you with a proud grin, as if he’d passed some sort of test.

“You did so well,” you coo, hand caressing his cheek and eyes shining in adoration when he nuzzles into your hand. Then your gaze drops. His cock is fucking huge and fucking red and pouring precum from the tip, oozing like blood from wound. “Let me reward you,” you whisper, satisfied when he whines and nods.

You press your thighs into his, hard, so he’s spreading his legs, a sprawled out starfish on a quarry-rock. You see his stomach tense at that, and he’s groaning. “Please, please, please.”

“Y/n. Grab my boobs.”

His hands find your tits immediately at your request, thumbs pressing into the areolas.

“Please, please, please, Y/n!” he’s yelling because it’s torture, and he’s throwing his head back to call out to God. But you’re the mightiest being present, and you push yourself up to teasingly run his cock through your folds, over and over, humming to the melody of your sticky pussy kissing his cock. “Please,” he cries.

“I don’t know,” you hum, rubbing yourself carelessly against his achingly hard cock. “I kind of like just this? Don’t you like this?”

“In, in, in!” he’s sobbing, arms flexing where they’re stretched out to hold your soft mounds, clinging to them for dear life. “Oh,” your voice is laced with fake sympathy, “Oh, you want in?”

“Please,” he gasps. You shrug in compliance, “Okay.”

Finally you pause your grinding, stopping his cock at once when you feel it, the sticky head of it creating tension at your slit. You sink down. Then you stop. The head of his cock is nuzzled in your warmth and you’re flexing your thighs to keep yourself on top of him.

“No, no, no!” he cries, bucking his hips upwards and shaking from the frustration, when your hand pushes his abdomen down. You pout: “I thought this was what you wanted? Are you not in?”

Usually, you can get away with fucking around with men in this manner, but it seems this time you’ve thoroughly miscalculated: In what felt like a split second, Seungcheol sits upright and removes his hands from your chest, anchoring them on your hips and bouncing you.

He’s pushing you down on his cock, and this time you’re the one crying out, utterly taken aback when, with seemingly no effort at all, he lifts your entire body weight and slams you down again.

He’s grunting and panting, completely enchanted by your body and your pretty moans. He grunts at the way your perfect pussy chokes his cock. You’re no better. You’ve lost all control of the situation, slipping into a cockdrunk haze and crying out again and again at the way his tip kisses your cervix.

“Beautiful, such a pretty girl, aye? Squeezin’ me cock so tight,” he grunts, and all you can do is cry, burying your head in the crook of his neck and kissing it feebly. “Mhm, ye better treat me nice next time? Hmm?” His voice is deep and baritone against the shell of your ear.

Your clit is like the x’ed out treasure on one of Seungcheol’s maps, when he snakes his hand down your soft body to rub it in messy circles. “Prettiest moans me ever heard. Say me name, sweetcheeks, say Seungcheol,” he commands and you can only comply, orgasm fizzing in your stomach at his constant onslaught.

“Seungcheol, Seungcheol, Seungcheol!” you chant as you cum, cunt squeezing his cock like you were trying to kill him. The image of your scrunched up, blissed out face and your pussy creaming on his shaft, has he himself cumming inside you, painting your walls with cum, white like seafoam. He’s rutting into you for a few last pumps, and crying into the valley of your breasts. Despite the sun burning into the skin of your back, you’re certain you see stars.

You’re breathing each other in, foreheads pressed together as you recover and smelling the stench of salt and vigor. Seungcheol is still enchanted by you, your beauty, your voice, and he’s trying to capture your lips in a kiss, when you snap your head, almost startled, and peering out to a quarry of rocks at the end of the beach. Seungcheol is still feigning for your lips, thumbs rubbing circles in your waist, when he asks you: “Are ye okay? Ye hear sumthin?”

“No,” you breathed, hesitantly ripping your eyes from the rock. You smile at him, and he leans in and you let him, but only for a peck. You’re pulling away, even when he chases your lips and whines. You giggle, suddenly slipping his dick out of you and laughing even harder when he bends over from the sensitivity.

“Come back, Y/n,” he cries softly and you’re falling standing up in the sand, just in front of the water, beautiful and stark naked and glowing in the sun. “You come to me,” you tease, but without hesitation Seungcheol scrambles to his feet to follow after you. He stops when he’s standing right in front of you again, eyes big and soulful and full of so much love for you. “I’m here,” he announces in a whisper.

“Come with me into the sea, Seungcheol,” you pout and bite your lip at him. “I can’t be here.”

“But-”

“No! It’s not safe up here. I have to go back in the water,” you make big eyes and run a hand up his big, muscular arm. “But you can come with.. My necklace can turn you into a mermaid, too..”

“Really?” he whispers, grabbing your hands and squeezing tight, simply overjoyed. He’s too dazed from his orgasm to realize what you’re asking him to leave behind. All he wants is you. You intertwine your fingers with his.

“Yeah,” you take a step back into the white foaming water, and once again your necklace begins glowing, so intense that Seungcheol once more has to close his eyes.

When they open again you’re lying in the water, still mostly out of it, and your bottom half is gone, replaced by the glittering scaly tail he saw before. You were so plump, so pretty, the way your tits bunched up in the sand.

“Help me, Seungcheol, push me into the water again,” you request weakly, arms flexing as you try to unstuck yourself from the sand that grabs at your heavy tail. “When will you turn me into a mermaid?” he asks innocently, leaning down to help drag you, still stark naked and pale body glowing in the sun. “Just- just when I’m back in the water,” you mewl, strained.

When you stop feeling the seafloor drag against your sensitive tail, you tug Seungcheol to you harshly. He falls next to you, panicked. “H-Hey!”

He’s only gone under the surface for a moment, before he bops his head over the water, black hair sticking to his forehead. Spitting out the salty liquid, pouting. “That was mean,” he complains, treading in the shallow water. You giggle, thriving in the cool slick of the sea, having missed the way the water hugs you, how it caresses and kisses and loves. That was why you needed to pay it back.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you pout. “C’mere. Let me make it up to you.”

Seungcheol paddles himself into you and you hold him into your chest, his nose and eyelashes prodding softly at your skin. You sigh when he begins licking at the smooth skin, hands pawing your waist.

“It’s such a shame,” you frown, looking at how pretty he is, as his plump, pink lips mouth at your nipple, lashes long and pretty over his downturned eyes. He hums questioningly, not stopping his ministrations on your chest. One moment you’re gently pulling the wetted dark locks behind his ear; the next you’re fastening your arms around him, and kicking your tail.

You’re underwater. Seungcheol flinches at the initial movement, then begins thrashing in your arms, when he registers that you’re underwater. You’re ignoring how painful, how strong his hands are when he punches and wriggles in your hold, only swimming deeper, deeper, deeper. The sunlight above, fragmented from the waves surface of the water becomes sparser.

He’s even paler in the dark. You see him perfectly clear, tugging and kicking. Maybe there’s even a small hope in his chest - a hope, that this is just a little joke, and that just a moment from now, you’ll grab him by the hand and pull him back to the surface. That moment doesn’t come. Everytime he tries to push himself up, your hand is there to keep him down.

It feels like forever, and it’s more painful than any other time you’ve done it. He’s humming groans from the lack of air and when he finally gives out to gasp for air, he chokes out the most haunting noise you’ve ever heard, bubbles trailing up from his newly-dead corpse. Finally he’s still against your chest. You pull him away with a deep frown and see his face, fully relaxed now and drained of color. You hold onto him by his shoulders, hoping to memorize his face, hoping to remember him.

Then you’re releasing him and he floats downwards, hair dragging upwards, almost as if reaching for you.

He’s just another rock in the sand, you try to tell yourself, as his body is cast away to the deepest, darkest quarters of the ocean. But it doesn’t feel that way. As you swim away, humming your siren song and reverberating in the dark, bottomless depths, you can’t help but feel that this time, your victim was not just a sandcorn; he was a bright, shining pearl.

#seungcheol x reader #s.coups x reader #scoups x reader #svt seungcheol x reader #svt scoups x reader #seungcheol smut #s.coups smut #scoups smut #svt smut #svt x reader #svt x reader smut

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fairyhaos · 6 months

Text

ᥫ᭡ // dude, i can see (through) you

vernon x gn!reader fluff, crack(?), supernatural au, non-idol au, ghosts, ft. ghost!jeonghan

3.5k+ words

warnings for: mentions of insomnia, pills

summary: when you move into your new house that seems almost too good to be true, you find yourself (not quite) face-to-face with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

“Hey, hey, Hansol, did you hear that the family are finally leaving the house?”

“What? Already? Hyung, come on, why do you keep doing this?”

“It’s fun! I bet it was the floating pots and pans that did it. You know how much effort I put in to get those to lift up.”

“I liked these people. They had a dog!”

“Yeah, and the dog could see us. That’s a no-no.”

“Still, hyung, don’t you think we should just… try to live peacefully?”

“Ha! That’s funny. Anyways, I bet I can make the next tenant move out in just a month.”

“No. You shouldn’t do that.”

“So you don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think you should—”

“Oh, it’s on, Hansol! I'm gonna prove it to you!”

“Please don’t.”

───────────── 👻

There is something seriously, seriously wrong with your new house.

It’s nothing obviously wrong, however: on paper, it’s a perfect place. Situated in a nice town, not in an hugely overpopulated area, with various convenience stores and a park close by. Even the house is perfect: not too big, not too small, and, above all, startlingly cheap.

Everything about it is perfect. But from the first day that you move in, you realise that things are a bit… strange.

“Where the hell has my laptop gone?”

You thread your hand through your hair, exasperated. In the middle of your desk, where your laptop ought to be, there was an empty space.

You’ve always been a forgetful person, accidentally leaving your shoes in the wrong place or leaving doors open or forgetting where you put your keys, but this is getting ridiculous. Losing an entire laptop? That’s odd, even for you.

Frustrated, you open your various boxes that still contain half of your worldly possessions, wondering if you’d gone mad and somehow put it away in them instead.

When it becomes clear that your laptop has not been accidentally packed away, you straighten up, shaking your head and resigning yourself to the fact that your laptop is simply lost to the void that is your new house. Hopefully, you manage to find it again before you have to go to work in a couple of weeks.

───────────── 👻

“So, what’s it like, living by yourself?”

You huff, adjusting the phone against your ear as you crawl around on the floor, bending down to look under the sofa. “Really, really weird.”

Your friend laughs over the phone. “Weird? How?”

“Well, for starters,” you say, fishing out yet another fork that had somehow made it under your upholstery, “I think I’m being haunted.”

There’s a pause. “What?”

You don’t believe in the supernatural, or the paranormal, or anything mythical or to do with ghosts and vampires and the otherworldly. They’re all just tales, made up by idiotic people and spun into a capitalist plot by the media, creating franchise after franchise surrounding possessed dolls and muscled Hollywood men playing traumatised werewolves. It’s irritating, and most of all, it’s all fake.

Science and supernatural cannot coexist, after all.

But now, you’re beginning to question whether that’s really the case.

“—turned all my clocks forward by four hours. Four! I thought I was going insane,” you say, standing up and returning to your kitchen with the fork in your hands, after finding your cutlery drawer empty an hour earlier, despite the fact that you’d put away all your cutlery only yesterday.

You put the fork away, and then open up a cupboard to grab a glass, only to flinch and scream at what you see.

“Oh my god, Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?”

“This is ridiculous,” you breathe, staring up at your cupboard.

Every single row is squashed full of your soft toys.

“Hey, Y/N, are you listening to me? Hello? Can you hear me?”

You blink up in extreme despair at the cupboard before shutting the door. You don’t have the energy to deal with it right now. “Yeah, I’m here,” you say, holding the phone more securely against your ear. “Listen, I might have to call you back. I still haven’t fully unpacked yet.”

“Are you okay? You screamed and then suddenly went silent.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes for a moment and then open them again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you later, alright?”

You hang up, and walk out of the kitchen and into the hallway, before pausing in your tracks, staring wide-eyed at the front door.

The front door that was wide open.

You blink.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the door begins to swing shut, before suddenly closing with a sudden bang.

You stand there for a moment longer, before shaking your head and walking up the stairs.

Whichever ghost was haunting you, they sure were weird.

───────────── 👻

“Hey, Hansol, why is this tenant not leaving?”

“I told you. You shouldn’t do this.”

“Hmm, nah. It’s okay. It’s only been a week. I can do this.”

“Should you, though?”

───────────── 👻

Hansol is, unfortunately, so dead.

Very much in the literal sense as well, because he's a ghost. Don't ask him about the logistics of that, or how it came to be, because he doesn't know. All he knows is that one day he died and the next, he opened his eyes and no one could see him.

But he's also so dead in the figurative sense, too. Because he and his Jeonghan hyung (who was technically a year or so younger than him when he died but still insists on being called ‘hyung’ because he died around a century earlier than him, and “you ought to respect people’s deathdays, Hansol”) have been inhabiting this house for several years, now, but he’s never had a desire to be human again in all that time.

That is, until he meets you.

You’re the latest owner of this house, and you’re… well, you're interesting.

Never before has he seen someone so tolerant of Jeonghan’s schemes. In his attempt to win at a bet that he’d created by himself, Jeonghan was pulling out all the big guns on you: starting off by being a nuisance, then an irritant, then infuriating before escalating into downright chaotic, in a climax where he made all the doors open and slam repeatedly in the middle of the night.

It’s enough to make anyone want to move out. Hansol half-expected you to leave within the first five days, but instead, you clench your jaw and plaster a smile on your face and keep on going.

He thinks it’s a little curious that you’re putting on a smile, even though there’s no one to see it. Like you’re constantly always alert of people watching you, and feeling the need to put on a mask. It makes him want to be human, just for a second, to put a hand on your shoulder and ask if you’re really okay.

During the second week, however, he realises that you really aren’t okay.

“The tenant still hasn’t gone to sleep,” Jeonghan sulks, floating through your bedroom door to sit (well, hover) beside Hansol on the floor just outside.

“You can just say Y/N,” Hansol reminds him. “What do you mean, though? All humans are meant to be asleep by now.”

“Yeah, well, ours isn’t,” Jeonghan huffs. He crosses his arms petulantly, and his translucent ghost self flickers and wobbles at the dramatic movement. “Why not?”

Hansol shrugs. “How am I meant to know?”

Before Jeonghan can say something snarky in reply, the door to your bedroom door swings open, and the two ghosts flinch and freeze up, momentarily forgetting that they're ghosts.

They watch as you slowly trudge down the stairs, muttering annoyedly to yourself. You had a dressing gown drawn over you, and you hug it against yourself while you shuffle through your house, before walking into the kitchen.

Hansol looks at Jeonghan, and the other just shrugs, and they both decide to follow you and see what you’re up to.

Hansol peeks his head through the wall just as you pop a few pills into your mouth.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks, pushing Hansol through the wall so that he’s standing in the kitchen properly. “Are those drugs?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hansol says, and then floats closer so he can see the writing in the bottle you’re holding. It doesn’t help, though, because the writing is all faded, like this is a bottle you’ve had for a while. “Medicine? But what for?”

Jeonghan folds his arms, sitting on the table. “Great. Our new tenant is dying.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop being mean now?” Hansol asks, coming to sit next to Jeonghan.

“I’m not mean.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not! When have I ever been mean, hm? Tell me, Hansol!”

Suddenly, there’s a clatter, and a mess of white pills spread out across the floor, under the table and throughout the entire kitchen. Both of the ghosts, pause, and when Hansol looks up, his eyes widen.

You’re looking directly at him.

No one says anything, and for a long, long moment, you continue to stare directly at Hansol, and he swallows uneasily, glancing over at Jeonghan. The other ghost is just sitting there, too, but he’s looking at you with interest, eyes flicking between you and Hansol.

“It’s… it’s not me, right?” Hansol says hesitantly. “Surely our tenant isn’t seeing me.”

“Try moving,” Jeonghan says, and directs his gaze back to you. There’s not a trace of wariness in his eyes, and Hansol feels more confused than ever. Jeonghan was the one who said that the last family ought to be kicked out because their dog could see them.

Nevertheless, arguing with Jeonghan wastes fifteen years of Hansol’s (undead) lifetime every time, so he does as he’s told, hopping off from the table and almost falls on his face when your eyes track his movements as he does so.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. Hansol’s beginning to feel a bit panicky now. “Dude, I can see through you.”

And then your eyes glaze over and you crumple into a heap on the floor.

───────────── 👻

“Y/N can see us,” Hansol says, pacing frantically. “Hyung, we’re doomed! We’re—we’re gonna get exorcised and go to Hell and have to meet the Devil!”

Jeonghan just hums, looking down at your sleeping form. “I don’t think so.”

After you had fainted, the two ghosts had (very painstakingly) carried you back up the stairs and back into bed. It takes a huge amount of effort for ghosts to be able to make themselves felt in the living plane, and Hansol had been gasping from the effort for a solid hour afterwards.

Now, though, the exhaustion has worn off, and he’s currently making Jeonghan mildly dizzy with all his pacing.

“Hyung.” Hansol whirls around again to face Jeonghan, making the elder ghost raise his eyebrows. “You know what this means, right? This tenant is unwell. You’re not allowed to play your tricks anymore.”

That makes Jeonghan pause. He bites his thumb, then, thinking, before nodding his head. “Fine. I don’t like tormenting the sick, anyways. It hurts to think about.”

Hansol sighs at that, mouth twisting in sympathy. He pats Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Don’t think about it. You’ve been dead for ages, hyung. I’m surprised your memory is still intact.”

Jeonghan scowls, pinching Hansol’s side, making the younger ghost yelp and then laugh. “Hey! We’re basically the same age.”

“Give or take around a hundred years.”

“Yeah, barely anything!”

The two ghosts continue bickering, their voices absorbed into the nothingness that was the plane of the dead.

In your bed, you turn your head towards the direction of warped voices, squinting at the faint outlines that you can see near the window.

───────────── 👻

“—really handsome dude, oh my god,” you’re saying while you sort through your papers. Your laptop still hasn’t turned up. “Is there any side effect of taking sleeping pills again after a long time of not using them that, like, causes hallucinations of hot guys?”

Over the phone, your friend laughs. “I guess living by yourself really is making you go insane, huh?”

“I’m not insane,” you insist, chuckling. “It sounds insane, but I swear, he was so…” You hide your face behind your hand, despite the fact that no one can see you.

“That gorgeous, huh?” comes the response from the other end of the line, and you get the distinct feeling that your friend doesn’t really believe you. You take your hand away from your face, trying to rub away the blush on your cheeks.

“Yeah, actually, he was! Anyway, I gotta go. I still haven’t found my laptop, and doing all my work by hand isn’t going well.”

“Go to the library and use a computer there.”

You pause. “Oh. Good idea. I’ll do that tomorrow. Goodnight, I gotta go now.”

There’s a laugh on the other end. “Okay. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The two ghosts sit on your bed, watching you as you hang up the phone and go back to your work.

“So,” Jeonghan says, and his tone is light and teasing, “Y/N thinks you’re pretty gorgeous, huh? I guess you really were seen, after all.” He nods his head in your direction. “Our new tenant is definitely really interesting.”

Silence falls again, and Hansol watches you agonise over your sheets, one hand permanently buried in your hair.

“Hyung,” he says after a moment, “You should give Y/N the laptop back.”

───────────── 👻

“Stupid goddamn insomnia,” you mutter to yourself, trudging down the stairs yet again. “Why can’t I go to sleep?”

You’ve been in your new house for just over two weeks, now, and things are… normal. After the initial weird things happening during the first several days, everything seems to have settled down, almost like the house had gotten used to its new owner. It makes you laugh, every time you think of it in that way, but there’s no other way to explain how the sudden door slammings have stopped, and all your things seem to be exactly where you left them.

And even the other day, you’d found your laptop again.

Everything was going well.

A flash of big, translucent brown eyes flash across your vision, and you shake your head, trying to dispel the memory.

You despise taking your pills, hate them for how drowsy they make you throughout the rest of the day, but just over a week into moving in, you’d caved and succumbed to their awful numbness. Your insomnia had flared up, almost, as if panicked by the new environment, leaving you unable to sleep for several days.

Strangely, though, after you’d had that… vision, you’d been able to sleep easier for a while.

Large, surprised eyes flood your memory again, and you frown, scrunching your eyes and attempting to get rid of it.

That boy hadn’t appeared in your vision again after that night, and you’ve reluctantly convinced yourself that it had just been a side effect of the sleeping pills and your own lack of sleep. Hallucinations weren’t uncommon with strong sleeping pills, after all.

You finish downing your pills, drinking the entire mug of water for good measure, before wiping your mouth and setting the mug down on the counter.

Groggily, you rub your eyes and attempt to head out of the kitchen, stumbling a little as you go. Just because you can’t sleep doesn’t mean you aren’t tired, after all. It’s just your stupid body not allowing you to fall asleep.

Abruptly, your foot catches against your other ankle, and you slam into the doorframe with a cry of pain. Eyes still bleary, you move jerkily only to feel yourself keeling over backwards, falling faster and faster towards the floor, and then—

A pair of arms catch you, and you fall back against a sturdy chest that stumbles, just slightly, under your weight, before gaining control and slowly lowering you to the floor, still in their embrace, head in their lap.

Your head is spinning, vision blurry, but as you look up, the sight that stares back at you is as clear as day.

Big, brown, translucent eyes.

Your own eyes widen in shock, and the pair of eyes staring into yours widen too.

“Oh my god,” you say. “How did you get into my house?”

The boy above you opens and closes his mouth wordlessly. “Um… I live here?”

“Like hell you do,” you return. Before you can say anything else, however, the feeling of his arms disappears and you drop the last few inches onto the floor, back making contact with the hard wood. You yelp in pain, and he cringes apologetically.

“Sorry! Sorry. Uh, it’s hard to make myself tangible for long. I didn’t meant to do that. Sorry.”

You sit up, rubbing your back. “Wait, what do you mean? Are you not…”

Another boy steps into your vision. No—he floats, feet constantly millimeters from the ground. He bends down over the boy sitting on the floor next to you, looking down at you with interest. “I’m surprised that you’ve managed to make yourself visible to our tenant for so long, Hansol.”

You blink, lost. “Hey, I can see you too, you know.”

The new boy looks bewildered at that. “You can?” Then his eyes widen. “And you can hear me?”

“You’re talking, aren’t you?” You narrow your eyes. “Is this some prank? Halloween is right around the corner, after all. Are you playing with me?”

“No, no!” The boy who caught you shakes his head frantically. “No, we’d never. Well, Jeonghan hyung might, but I wouldn’t.” He pauses, and then smiles hesitantly, standing up. “Um… we’re ghosts?”

You don’t say anything for a long moment. And then you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Prove it.”

“Please don't pani—what?”

“Prove it,” you say, and then shrug. “I gotta make sure that you’re really ghosts, you know? How do I know that you’re what you say you are?”

The other ghost, Jeonghan, raises an eyebrow. “Why would we lie to you?”

“I dunno. You’re bored?”

Jeonghan thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. “Fair point.” And then, abruptly, he walks up to you, and you expect him to stop right before you, but to your surprise, he carries on going and walks right through you instead.

“Jesus!” you shiver, a horrible coldness running down your spine. “Don’t do that!”

Jeonghan just beams. “Do you believe us now?”

You look back at Hansol, thinking. If you tilt your head just slightly, he flickers out of focus, like a mirage. But when you look at him in just the right angle, he looks as present as any human, only a little less so. Like he’s almost here, but not quite.

After a second, you nod your head. “I suppose you really are ghosts,” you say, and there’s just enough awe in your voice to make Hansol’s eyes widen in confusion.

“You’re… not going to run away?”

“Are you kidding? This is so cool,” you say, clasping your hands together. You grin. “It was getting lonely here anyway. And besides, you’re also really pretty.” Your eyes widen at your own words, and you backtrack. “Uh, pretty cool. That’s what I meant. Ghosts are cool, you know?”

Jeonghan laughs. “Hansol already knows that you think he’s gorgeous. We heard you.”

Instantly, a flush surges up into your cheeks, and Hansol rubs at his nose, embarrassed, before punching Jeonghan in the shoulder. He doesn’t deny it, though, which makes you feel kind of really flustered, but there’s a shy smile on his face as he looks at you.

“I think you’re also really pretty, too,” he says, and goddamnit, a ghost shouldn’t have the power to make you blush like this.

Jeonghan is about to say something, but then gets interrupted when, abruptly, a yawn wracks your frame and you cover your mouth, face scrunching up.

“Well, I think I need to head to bed,” you say, rubbing at your eyes. “Think I’m finally getting tired.”

That makes Hansol almost wilt in disappointment, and it’s such a cute sight that you almost reach over to ruffle his hair. Which is weird. Because he’s a ghost, and also because you hardly know him, but there’s something just so endearing about Hansol that makes you feel like you want to know him forever and ever.

Slowly, you make your way back upstairs, the ghosts trailing after you.

“I’m going to pester you both with questions tomorrow,” you inform them as you get into bed. “Like, about how I’m able to see ghosts and why I can hear you and how long you’ve both been here. I really will.”

Jeonghan laughs. “We look forward to it. It’s been a while since we’ve had someone other than each other to talk to. I think we’ll both like your company.” He nudges Hansol in the side, smile turning devious. “Hansol even more so than me.”

Hansol groans, covering his face, and you just smile, too drowsy to think of what that means at the moment.

“Leave my room before I go to sleep,” you say, as your eyelids close. “I heard you talking in my room a few nights ago, you know. You should know it’s not good to spy on people in their sleep.”

Jeonghan might reply with something, but you’re not entirely sure. Sleep is already pulling you under, pulling you far away from the state of being awake.

The last thing you recall is a cool pressure against your forehead, and a warm voice whispering your name.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @aaniag @amxlia-stars

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bellgraves · 6 months

Text

This is part 3 of my fic that came out of nowhere lol! And finally I gave it a title 🥰

Protecting you

Phillip Graves/ Reader Soap/Reader

Warning! It's a smut with a plot! It has erotic scenes.

I apologize for any grammar mistakes, this is my first smut ever and I feel so shy to post it. Please don't judge me too much 🥺 I hope you will like it, even a little because I really put my heart into it 🥰

You're a Shadow and Graves wife. You have affair with Soap.

**********************************************

You were spreaded beautifully on the bed, with your ass up, with Graves thrusting his cock into your dripping wet pussy. He was squeezing your arse with his hands also spanking you from time to time.

'That's my girl... that's my obiedient girl... Come on baby give it to me.' Graves was rubbing your clit with his finger, making a circles. His touch sent electricity through your body,making you arch your back. He used the moment and grabbed your tits with one hand and squeezed them. He stooped rubbing your clit with other hand and grabbed you by your throat, pulling you closer to him so your back touched his chest, and he gave you sloppy kiss. After a minute you get back to your position. Legs spread open and him continuing to pound into you.

Suddenly he pulled out his cock, making you moan in dissatisfaction. He lowered himself and parted your folds, licking your pussy.

'You're so sweet, I needed you in my mouth.' He said between sucking and licking. Graves began to stick his tongue in and out of your hole, imitating the movements of his cock.

'Damn, you're so wet...Fuck.. I can't have enough of you.' Graves groaned.

' I...I love it... it's so.. good..' You whined.

Then be a good girl now, and come for me. Make me happy. Graves put his cock with one strong thrust back into your cunny. Your face fell into the pillow while Graves continued to press himself into you. His movements were strong and fast. Just a second before you got your orgasm and pleasure took over, a word fell from your lips.

'John..ny..' Your moan was muffled by the pillow. You spasmed from intense feeling.

Graves pulled out his cock from you. Without finishing himself, he turned you around to look at him. Both of you were breathing hard.

'What did you just said?' He asked.

'Wha-at?' You were trying to catch your breath, a small trail of sweat was falling from your neck.

'Did you call me by other man's name?' Graves grabbed you by your wrists and squeezed them in his palms.

'N-no. What do you mean?'

'God damn, I swear if you don't tell me what you just said...' Graves had his face few inches from yours. His blue eyes looked like a sky on stormy night. He could literally shoot lightnings just by staring. That's how much angry he was. His blonde hair was messy, falling into his sweaty forehead.

'I said Comming...Because I come.' You answered looking straight into his eyes.

Graves pursed his lips, but he loosened his grip. You slaped away his hands and got up to sitting position.

' What's wrong with you Phillip? '

'If you ever cheat on me, that guy is fucking dead. I will kill him slowly before I will cut him into pieces and let dogs eat him' Said Graves with anger.

'Phillip. Calm down yourself.'

'On the last mission in Verdansk.. you were there with Soap. Chasing Makarov and his Konni group. Is that him? You like him? You like "Johnny"? Graves spurred his words.

'You lost your fucking mind?! You have some sick obsession with 141 not me! Why would I care about some Soap, Shampoo or other random soldier?!' You slipped out of the bed.

' I'm not talking to you Phillip, until you apologize to me' You took a towel and went to bathroom, slamming the door.

You entered shower cabin and turned the water on. It was warm and nice but you were shaking. How could you lost yourself like that? You were so careful with your affair with Soap, and now you would expose everything so simply? You thought about Johnny. You must protect him. If Graves will find out the truth, he will kill him for sure. Soap is a nice guy, he doesn't deserve to die just because you desired him. You took some deep breaths to calm yourself down. You decided that, no matter what evidence Graves will throw, you will not admit to cheating on him. Fuck it. He can even torture you. You won't back down.

You were ex Special CIA agent. From your teenage years, you were trained to be a perfect spy. You took part in the most dangerous missions, in different parts on the world in which, if you were exposed, you would die on the spot. So now you won't go down foolish like that. There was some duality in your personality, you needed stability, but at the same time some danger. Maybe that was CIA fault? Maybe is their doing that you had personality like that? One mission were particulary difficult. Your whole team was killed and you were the only survivor. Congress stated, that you're a threat to the state, so you went rouge. You were hidding, until Phillip Graves found you. He heard about you, and about your almost legendary team of international spies. He said that, he wanted to work with you since long time ago. He took you under his mercenary Shadow Company. His hackers deleted your whole proof of existence, they gave you new identity. You owned him your life. How could you not fall in love with him? He is charismatic leader, self confident to maximum, brave, intelligent, hard working. So handsome and charming. You fell for him from first sight. He knew you liked him, he was fascinated by you too. Chemistry between you two was extremely powerful, so it didn't take long time, before you were ripping your clothes off from each other in his office, and then had a wedding in his home in Texas. You loved to work as Shadow, and to be Graves wife. All Shadows treated you with highest respect. You didn't flash out that you're Commander's wife, so you need special treatment. No. You were working, as hard just like other mercenaries and you were kind and nice to them. They all loved you. Both women and men. And you? You loved Phillip Graves. You really do. What happened between you and Soap was... unexpected. You had to only think now, how to control the situation.

Graves opened the doors to shower cabin. He stood behind you and hugged you.

'I'm sorry' He whispered to your ear and kissed your neck.

The water was falling on your naked bodies, you caressed his hands which were still holding you.

'You were right. We overworked ourselfs. Work got into my head. I should stop thinking about it so much. About General, 141, my men..'

You turned around and looked at Graves. He didn't look angry anymore, he looked genuine sad.

'Maybe we should have a vacation? How about that sweetie? Only you and me.' Graves asked.

'Vacations sound wonderful to me'. You said,and kissed his lips.

Graves let out a loud sigh and hugged you.

'I don't know what I had in my head to accuse you of cheating on me..' Graves gave you small kisses on your face.

You chuckled.

'Yeah, that's crazy. Considering that ,you are the one who is cheating on me.' You said with smile.

'Me?!' Graves looked suprised.

'Yeah, I heard you on the comms talking to Farah. *I always liked your style* you imitated his voice.

Graves laughed.

'No, no wait. You're cheating on me with Roze! Yes I knew it!' . You pretended to have offended voice but you smiled.

'Roze Helms? She doesn't even like me, she said I'm a terrible CEO' Graves looked amused. He knew you're joking.

'Hmm... let me think..ahh yes.. I know exactly, who you really want. That Shadow girl... You know.. that one who likes to be a smartass.. who is in love with you...and think you are the most amazing man in the world...'. You pressed your tits into his chest, and you wrapped your hand around his cock. You started to pound him.

'Oh that girl.... yea..defently I want her...but only her..she is mine..and I...' Graves groaned under your touch.

'I love you too' You said.

'It's your turn to cum now baby'. You got into your knees.

'You know I love that shi..' Graves couldn't finish his sentence because he gasped after he felt his cock in your warm mouth.

*********************************************

Soap was on the shooting field watching recruits training. He was promoted to be a Captain. He was Captain MacTavish now, but Soap was not happy. He wanted to celebrate his promotion with you, but you were not there. Since one month you didn't talk to him. You didn't respond to his cryptic messages or answer phone calls. Soap was starting to think that maybe you ghosted him? Maybe you decided, you don't want to see him anymore, and simply you cut off the contact without a word? Or maybe your husband Graves, started to suspect something,so you had to go dark? Soap was trying to focus on his recruits but he couldn't. All he was thinking about was you. Your beautiful smile, eyes, your sweet scent, and soft body. The way you moaned his name when you two were making love. Soap was thinking about your last meeting.

You were together in hotel in some kind outback in the end of town.

You were sitting on the bed. Soap kisses were so soft, loving. He slowly kissed your neck then shoulders.

'You're so perfect.' He whispered.

You looked at him. Soap had beautiful, blue eyes. Graves had blue eyes too, but with the shades of sky while Soap's color was similar to ocean. Sky and ocean. Two elements fighting for you, both different, yet at the same time so similar to each other. You touched his scar on his chin, and kissed it softly. Soap closed his eyes. Your every touch and kiss was so tender and sweet. Like you almost love him.

Soap gently pushed you into the matress, he took off your dress and lingerie, and looked at your beautiful body. You tilted your head back so he could kiss your neck. He was massaging your cunt with his other hand. His mouth moved lower, leaving a wet trail on your soft skin until he found your breasts.He pressed his cheek against your tits, hearing your quick heartbeat. You wrapped your legs around him and moved your hips in rhythm with the fingers he inserted into you.

You gently began to massage his cock through his tight boxers, feeling how hard he was. When you wanted to slip your hand under his underwear, he grabbed your wrist and placed it behind your head. Sucking and rubbing your breasts with his mouth, he became more and more excited. Soap wanted to slide into you and make love all night long, listening to your moans mixed with his own. But not yet. There is still time. He just didn't know if he could resist it. His lips moved lower until they reached your pussy.

'Look at this beautiful cunt' Soap groaned and his mouth immediately started sucking on your clit. His tongue swirled all around it. You tangled your hands in his hair, and pushed his face closer to your cunny.

'Oh my god Johnny' you mewled

You felt his tongue now focusing more around your clit, his tounge movements getting harder, faster and deeper. He was now licking you everywhere from your clit to your other hole.

'Johnny...Johnny please.. please..' you moaned with short breath

'Come on my tongue luv.' Soap continued to stimulate you, until you became a trembling mess.

You came moaning his name over and over.

Soap moved his face away and took off his boxers. His face was on the same level as yours. You saw your arousal shining on his mouth. You felt something that you should not feel. But you couldn't help it.

'Why you have to be so handsome?' you whispered.

'So you do like me a little bit?' Soap chuckled.

You didn't answer, you just pulled him closer and kissed his mouth, tasting yourself.

Soap without stopping to kiss you, entered slowly with his hard cock into your pussy. He admired your face, moving faster and deeper in you. You gave up yourself completly to him.

You made love long time, changing positions, Soap being rough and dominant one moment and the other one he change to be gentle and sweet. When you finally collapsed breathing hard, filled with incomprehensible emotions towards each other, Soap hugged you to his chest. You lied like this for a few moments until he spoke first.

'I know we agreed to not talk about this, but I really need to know' he caressed your back with his thumb.

'Yes? What do you want to know?' You reply.

'Is he treating you good? I mean... is he good for you?' Soap asked with tense face.

'Yes. Phillip is good to me' . You sigh.

'So.. why you.. why you agreeded to spend time with me?' Soap tried to find right words to not offend you.

'John..I know what happened in Las Almas between you and Phillip, and I apologize for that. I was there too, even if you didn't see me'

'You..you were there?' Soap was shocked.

'I should've stop him. Talk to his senses. But knowing him, he probably wouldn't listen to me anyways. That's why I volunteered to join you on this mission against Konni Group and Makarov. I wanted to make up that Las Almas incident for you.' You slowly caressed his chest.

'So, you're dating me because you feel sorry for me?' Soap looked sad.

'No! It's not that... You're a man with honor, reliable and you have good heart. Something that is rare to find these days...Especially in field that we are working. I trust you with my life. You're.. one of the kind. I need to protect you.'

Soap looked suprised at you. He didn't expect that answer from you.

'I don't need protection.. I'm the one who is going to protect you.' Soap said with deep voice.

'So we got each others back.' You smiled.

Soap hugged you tight and buried his face into your neck.

'Don't leave yet please. Stay a little bit more.' He whispered.

'I'm here..don't worry.' You kissed the top of his head.

'Captain MacTavish!' Soap was dragged into reality by Price.

'There you are. Did you choose any of them for the special rescue team?' Price pointed and the recruits.

'Yeah.. yeah.. I did.' Soap was kinda ashamed that he got so carried away with his thoughts, that he forgot about his work.

'Good, I will tell Ghost to call you and give you names of the snipers that he have chosen' said Price and tapped Soap's shoulder.

*********************************************

Soap came back to his house. He left his keys on his desk and took off his weapons. He went to kitchen and poured himself scottish whiskey. He was thinking about what his cousin told him. Maybe she was right. You were married, living in fancy mansion, traveling with private jet and having stuffed bank account. You have Graves, who is crazy in love with you, and your Shadow buddies. Where was place in your life for a guy like Soap? It was his silly dream that you one day will live in Scotland with him, and you two will have sweet, little babies. He must respect your decision and leave you alone. Johnny wouldn't stand if something happened to you because of him. He felt hurt and heartbroken that he will never touch you again, or hear your voice calling him. But...if he could just tell you, one last time how much he cares about you, and how much he loves you...how much he appreciated every minute that you spend together...

His phone started to ring. Private number. It was Ghost for sure. He always calls from private number. Soap hated to admit but he felt so dissapointed that it was not your number on the screen.

'Aye hello? '

'Johnny?' Soap's heart dropped when he heard your voice.

'Johnny I missed you. If you want to see me now, I'll send you address. I will wait for you there in one hour.'

'I'm on my way' Soap answered immediately. He grabbed his keys from desk.

**********************************************

Soap opened the door to apartment that you rented, without knocking. You were there, as always beautiful.

'Congratulations Captain MacTavish' you greeted him with smile.

Soap didn't say anything. He came closer to you so fast,grabbed you by your waist and kissed your lips.

'I see you missed me too' you smiled and tangled your fingers into his mohawk. You loved his haircut and how his hair felt under your fingertips.

Soap looked at you. He was beyond words happy. He couldn't resist you anymore nor his feelings towards you.

'I love you. So fucking much' . Soap grabbed your face and pressed his forehead into yours.

'Johnny..'

'No. Listen to me. I don't care if you want to stay with Graves or not. I need you in my life. That day when I met you..I have fallen in love with you so much. My dream is to be with you all the time, listen to your voice, cuddle in your lovely arms, hold your hand. Every moment I have to spend away from you, burns my insides... Soap gently caressed your face. 'You're great happiness to me. Even if you don't love me and you prefere him... I still love you. I always will.'

You felt tears gathering in your eyes.

'Oh Johnny why we haven't met before? If I only met you first... I would give you my all. We would have life together... But I can't leave Phillip. I'm sorry.'

'It doesn't matter' Soap interrupted you.'It only matters to me, that you're here. And I can be with you.'

'John... if he will find out... He will kill you. In most brutal way' tears that you tried to hold back finally has fallen.

'I'm not scared of him, I will go through everything just to be with you.' He kissed your tears.

'Don't you worry about nothing. I take everything on me' Soap kissed you again.

Somone knocked on the door.

The two of you looked suprised and terrified.

This is for my lovelies

@candy616 💖💖

@xxavengingangelxx 💖💖

Part 1

Part 2

#call of duty #phillip graves #shadow company #commander graves #phillip graves smut #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #soap call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish smut #soap x you #soap x reader

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gentil-minou · 6 months

Text

Wei Ying living on the street and still celebrates his birthday because it's a month after mid autumn festival and Mama taught him how to count the days before she and Baba left…

But little A-Ying still celebrates! He makes sure to prepare every year!

(Now an expanded oneshot on Ao3 here)

This year, A-Ying prepares by keeping the mantou a kind shopkeeper gave him a week ago! He wraps it up in the cleanest cloth he can find and tucks it away in his super secret hiding place.

(It's an abandoned shed on the outskirts of the village that A-Ying sometimes shelters in)

(He can't keep the mantou in his robes otherwise the dogs will find him…the shed is safer. There are even holes in the roof to let the moonlight in!)

(He can never stay for too long, though. Baba said they would meet him at the inn so he has to go back so they can find him!)

A-Ying likes birthdays! He likes the singing and clapping and smiling, the laughter that bounces off the walls.

He likes the feeling of celebrating one person, showing them how special they are! He likes that everyone has a day that's just for them!!

A-Ying is very good at singing, so even though he's the only one singing and clapping it's still a fun day! His laughter isn't as loud as Mama's, and there's no one to smile with him, but that's okay! A-Ying likes celebrating anyway!

It's a day just for him!

This year on his birthday, A-Ying finds a nice big tree not to far from the shed, a little bit a ways from the market in the village. From this far away he can still hear the street vendors cry out to each, and he can pretend they're calling to him too.

He's gotten reaaaaally good at climbing this year, so he goes up and up and up all the way to the second branch. He perches on his throne, watching the subjects of his domain move from one spot to the next, unaware of the child giggling at their antics.

Every one of those blobs has a story, and A-Ying likes to imagine them in his head.

That mother with her daughter is shopping for a new treasure to add to their collection.

Those two men whispering together are plotting a dastardly escape from the bad guys!

The stern, intimidating cultivator in glowing white robes is preparing to save them all.

The two brothers are sneaking off on their own, seeking adventures beyond his wildest dreams.

A-Ying smiles to himself at his game. It's fun, and he likes it.

He balances the cloth bundle gingerly on his lap, leaning as securely as he can on the tree whole trying to hook a leg around the branch for safety. He unwraps the dusty grey cloth, revealing the white dough of his prized mantou.

It's not as fresh and soft as he remembered it, and the steam is all gone, but it's still his mantou!!! He doesn't even know what's in the filling, but he bets it will be delicious!

He prepares to take a bite when A-Ying hears a soft rustling of leaves and quiet sniffles.

He hooks an arm around the tree, mantou secure in his other, and peers around to see who's managed to find his hiding spot.

It's one of the brothers from earlier, the little one with hair only up to his shoulders. His face is scrunched up and angry looking, but his eyes are sad.

The boy looks around, seeming confused and…lost? The long sleeves of his pure white robes catch on sharp brambles and thickets, and he exhales sharply when they pull him back and trapped him.

The boy sends the bush a withering glare, and is about to pull his arm free.

"Wait!" A-Ying calls out before he can think otherwise. "Don't just pull!"

The boy startles and jerks back, though he keeps his arm perfectly still. Sharp eyes dart around looking for the source of the sound, before glancing up and locking onto A-Ying.

Gold. Molten like the sun above them. For a second the tree no longer feels solid beneath A-Ying.

He shakes the feeling away and tucks his mantou back into his robes, and jumps down to land in front of the boy.

His knees scream, not used to such a tall height.

He hides a wince but the boy is too taken aback to even notice in the first place, reeling away from A-Ying, looking terrified and furious.

It's so fun, A-Ying can't help the giggles from escaping as he exclaims, "Hi!"

The boy says nothing but he doesn't move, arm still caught.

"If you tug your arm out like that, you're going to rip your pretty robes!" A-Ying tells the boy, his eyes drawn to the shiny pale blue thread that winds through the white fabric in the shape of misty clouds. He almost reaches out to touch it, stopping himself at the last second.

He lifts one of his tattered sleeves, gesturing to one of its many tears. "Look, see? This is what happens when you pull too hard! It makes a hole and sometimes it cuts skin and hurts a lot."

Sure enough, the hole reveals a tiny angry red scar from when A-Ying ripped it.

The boy lets out a quiet hiss, and his expression changes to one of commiseration. He lifts his hand, letting the sleeve drop to show A-Ying a small cut on the back of his hand.

"Ouch!" A-Ying exclaims, even though the cut looks like it's been healed for a long time. "That looks bad too! Did you get hurt already? Where? Anywhere else?"

A-Ying doesn't have any soothing salve, but he can maybe wrap the white cloth around the boy’s injuries? Or maybe find a nice adult?

Luckily the boy shakes his head and speaks for the first time. "No. Ge's sword…"

The boy trails off, staring at the ground as he draws lines in the dirt. The tips of his ears bloom pink where they peek from between ebony strands of hair.

A-Ying blinks before catching on, the mirth filling him with warmth. He throws his head back in joyous laughter that grows at the boy's pretty pout.

He wipes the tears from his eyes as he asks, "You played with your brother's sword didn't you, without asking first."

The boy nods once brusquely, still stubbornly pouting at the ground. It makes A-Ying want to laugh again and he bounces with the feeling.

"Where is your brother? I saw you two earlier when I…" This time, A-Ying trails off his words catching in his throat. Heat floods his cheeks for some reason, and he suddenly feels too shy to let the boy know he'd been watching him earlier.

How odd.

The boy, however, doesn't seem to pay attention as his head darts up and devastation spreads across his face. "Ge…" he starts, his lower lip wobbling. "I can not find Ge."

His voice comes out a bit hoarse, like he's been crying. And now that A-Ying has a better angle, he can see the tears resting in the corner of the boy's eyes where he must have cried earlier.

The boy is lost…away from his family. Unsure of where they went and when he'll see them.

The thought sits heavy and hard im A-Ying's head, and his face goes blank.

But not for too long, as he lets the feeling pass over him like a wave the way Baba showed him when he was little. He takes a deep breath, and takes another step closer to the boy.

The boy gives him a wary look, but with his arm still caught there's no way for him to escape.

A-Ying gently takes his arm, keeping his movements light and easy to shake off. He gets a better look at where a branch as snagged on the boy's robes, a sharp pointy end of the stick caught on a loose thread. Then, A-Ying grabs the stick and slowly pulls it out, taking care not to loosen and more threads.

When the boy's robes are finally free, with only a few easy to fix loose threads, A-Ying hops back and presents the boy's arm with a flourish.

"There! All fixed! See, isn't that better than a nasty hole?"

The boy inspects the damage, a judicial eye moving up and down the length of his sleeve, clinical in its assessment. A-Ying has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the boy's serious expression.

Finally satisfied, the boy drops his arm and regards A-Ying with the same serious expression.

Again, the ground feels a little less solid beneath A-Ying's feet, like he's about to float away.

"Thank you," the boy says, gaze intense and making A-Ying twitch.

"It's not problem at all, no need for thanks! I'm happy to help! Now, let's find your brother."

He grabs the boys hand and begins to walk, when the boy pulls him back, as if still caught in the brambles. "You wish to help?" he asks, that same confused expression from earlier on his face.

"Of course! Everyone needs to find their family! It's a given!"

This time when he tugs on the boys hand, warm where his palm sildes against A-Ying's cool skin, the boy follows.

"Besides," A-Ying continues, focusing on the path ahead of them for anymore wayward branches, "When you help someone on your birthday, you get extra blessings!"

"It is your birthday?" the boy asks from wear he walks behind A-Ying.

"Yup! And my mama says we have to share our blessings with everyone on our birthday, so we can live well!"

"…Where is your mama?"

The boy's voice is quiet, like he almost regrets asking.

But that's not why A-Ying stops walking, frozen on the path.

He's tried very hard not to think about it too much this past year…but where is his mama?

Usually when he feels a gloomy cloud anchor itself to him, A-Ying ignores it and finds something fun or interesting to do. And right now, the fun and interesting thing is the pretty boy at his side with ears that turn pink and a huffy, pouty mouth.

So A-Ying focuses on that. He's very good at changing the subject.

The village market isn't too far away, but A-Ying fills the time with boisterous chatter, asking the boy about his pretty forehead ribbon and showing him the red ribbon Mama gave him ears ago, tied securely to his wrist.

He asks the boy a lot of things, but he doesn't seem like to like talking all that much.

But! He's a wonderful listener! He makes all these cute head movements and his eyes give away his feelings even when he tries so hard to keep them off the rest of his face. He nods at the right times and doesn't become bored ever!

It's been a long time since A-Ying had someone so fun to talk to, and he gets distracted telling the boy a scary story about once when he hid in a tree away from fierce and angry dogs.

In what must be uncharacteristic for the boy, he tugs on A-Ying's hand and interrupts him.

"Your birthday," he says, in that soft voice of his. A-Ying likes it a lot. "How are you celebrating it?"

A-Ying tilts his head, confused. He'd thought the answer was obvious.

"Like this, of course!" He waves their joined hands then let's them swing back and forth.

The boy frowns, deep lines forming between his brows where all his secrets must hide.

A-Ying presses the tip of his finger against those line, smoothing them out.

"No frowning on my birthday!!! It's not allowed! Only smiles!"

The boy's face turns neutral again, but the intensity in his gaze remains.

A-Ying puts on an affected pout and bends a little bit so he can peer up at the boy, though he's a bit shorter than A-Ying "Come on… give me a smile. Please? As my gift?"

All traces of a frown vanish completely and the boy wears a resolute look while his ears turn pink.

His face scrunches in concentration and slowly changes

He lifts one corner of his mouth higher than the other, a lopsided forced smile that shows a little bit of teeth. It's stiff and doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it's the cutest smile A-Ying's ever seen!

He bursts into laughter that rings around in a song, squeezing the boys hand for stability even as he almost falls over.

He can't remember the last time he was so happy.

"That's the best gift I've ever gotten! A perfect birthday smile!"

The edges of the boy's smile softens even more beautifully..

Drums beat against A-Ying's ribcage and he lifts his free hand to rest against his chest, willing the heat to dissipate from his cheeks.

He's on a mission after all, and with this gift to spurn him on he continues searching around the crowded market in search of white robes.

A-Ying hears a rumbling sound behind him. It's so similar to a dog's growl his shoulders stiffen automatically as he tenses and whimpers.

The rumbling continues and he squeezes the boy's hand preparing to run away, when the boy speaks softly to him.

"…Sorry…I did not eat.."

The fear exits A-Ying's body in a long deep exhale and he turns around to see the boy's cheeks have pinked as his hands clutch his stomach, where the grumbling sound continues.

He gives the boy a friendly smile and drags him to an alleyway just off the side street.

There, A-Ying removes his prize mantou and presents it the way a street performer might, holding his prize high in the sky.

"Ta-da! My birthday mantou! We can share!"

The mantou is difficult to split in half when it's this stale, but he manages and holds half out to the boy.

The boy hesitates before he takes the mantou, glancing between it and A-Ying as if looking for some reassurance.

A-Ying nods eagerly, gesturing for him to take a bite and lifts his half up to his lips in preparation.

The boy bites down. He stops. He chews. He stops.

His face takes on an entirely new expression that A-Ying finds utterly fascinating. He looks like he's both grateful and also wants to cry.

Strange. Maybe A-Ying's birthday mantou is extra delicious!

A-Ying takes a bite.

Immediately, he spits the morsel out onto the dusty path, trying to get rid of what must have been rotting filling encased in a dough that was too stale and hard enough to break teeth.

He looks up at the boy in horror. "No! Quick, spit it out! Spit it out before you get sick!"

Though alarmed, the boy follows, somehow showing it's possible to daintily spit into the palm in his hand and tossing the remains away.

A-Ying grimaces at the taste still lingering in his mouth. He's eaten a lot of questionable things in the past year, but he's used to it.

He'll wash his mouth out in the stream and then hope he'll find something to wash out the taste.

But he feels horrible that the boy had to eat that...He doesn't seem like the type to ever eat something so gross.

"Sorry," he whispers. He tugs on messy strands of his hair, wishing they could hide him from view.

The boy gives him a searching look, golden eyes wide.

"…No need for sorry," he replies simply. His face shifts into one of determination and this time the boy is the one to take A-Ying's hand and guide him through the market streets.

The boy stops in front of one of the bigger food stalls. The ones that sell skewered meat along with mantou and pancakes and all sorts of yummy treats. A-Ying knows this stall well because it's always very busy and sometimes people will order too much and toss their food out.

Keeping a firm hold of A-Ying's with one hand, the boy uses his other to reach into his pocket and pull out a cloth purse. The money inside clinks together and A-Ying can't help but be stunned. It's the most money A-Ying has ever seen!

He watches the boys fist close tight around his hands and follows as the boy marches towards the stall with stiff upright shoulders. He stands before the market stall, it's kind elderly proprietress smiling gently at him.

And he freezes.

A-Ying blinks and waits, wondering if the boy made a mistake perhaps.

He squeezes his hand, hoping to reassure him.

It does the trick, rousing the boy from his shock as he points at various items, gathering an assortment of meat, fresh mantou, and even sugary youtiao!

The stall's owner gives him a bemused look as she hands over everything as the boy pays for it. It's a lot, more than the boy is able to carry as he tries to pay at the same time.

A-Ying didn't think he seemed like that big of an eater, but maybe he was wrong!

The smell of warm, fresh food right in front of him makes his mouth water, and he smacks his lips together.

Finished with paying, the boy turns away with his haul. He looks behind him, as if to make sure A-Ying is following.

A-Ying runs after him, happy to follow him anywhere.

They stop at a bench a little ways away from the main thoroughfare where it's less crowded and market fades into background noise.

The boy pulls a clean white cloth from his sleeves and places it on the bench between him and A-Ying, then arranges the food with care.

One of A-Ying's legs bounces up and down uncontrollably, but he waits as patiently as he can manage.

At last, the boy nods, satisfied, and sends A-Ying a pointed look.

A-Ying blinks and points at himself. "Wait. Me first?" he asks.

The boy nods and hands a steaming mantou filled with savory meat filling whose smell nearly forms a cloud around them.

"It's your birthday," the boy says, like it should be obvious that this stranger bought A-Ying food without any thought. "This is for you."

A-Ying gasps, all the air in his lungs leaving him as he surveys the spread around him. Blood rushes to his cheeks, and he lifts his cold hands to press against them.

"This is all…for me?"

"Mn. Happy Birthday."

A-Ying beams his biggest, brightest toothy grin, watching the boy blink back at him as his ear turn that adorable pink again.

He happily takes the proffered mantou and bites down, savoring the burst of warmth and flavor that skitters across his tongue. He moans, and eats with zealous.

He hasn't had anything like this in so long! It's even better than he imagined!

Once he finishes the mantou, he takes a skewer of meat in one hand and a small pancake in the other and eats them in turn, alternating between bites. His body wiggles back and forth in a happy dance.

He's halfway through his second skewer when he notices the boy hasn't taken a bite of anything at all, even though he was the one who was hungry in the first place.

A cry of dismay escapes his throat. He hands the boy a bun filled with sweet red bean paste, waiting for the boy to start eating before resuming himself. Once the boy has taken a few small bites, A-Ying smiles once more and move on to the youtiao.

He tries to tell the boy about the time he found an entire bin filled with leftover dough and how he'd tried to eat it, but the boy gives him a reprimanding look.

"No talking while eat."

"Pfft, that's no fun. And besides, it's my birthday! Surely there are special rules for birthdays!"

The boy's expression turns skeptical, but A-Ying takes it to mean he's right after all and carries on.

By the time they've finished his birthday feast, the sun is begin its descent beneath the horizon, pinks and oranges mingling with blue skies above. The blue reminds A-Ying of the boy's robes, and he wonders if it always will. If even years later, he'll look up and think of him.

He hopes it will.

For now, he plops down from the bench, dusting his hands clean of crumbs as the boy carefully folds the cloth napkin and tucks it into his sleeves. A-Ying spares a moment to wonder what else he hides in those sleeves, before he gets back to the task at hand.

He needs to get this boy back to his family.

Surprisingly, no one has been shouting or racing around looking for him. A-Ying had assumed sticking by the market would be their best, but now he's feeling less so.

Sure enough, when he asks the boy, he tells him actually his family had been all the way on the other side of the town, far away from the market!

"Why didn't you say that earlier!?" A-Ying exclaims, already tugging the boy away.

The boy doesn't answer, his ears pink as he watches the ground. But the corner of his lips quirk up in a sly smile.

He hears that drumming noise against his chest again at the sight, and he almost feels dizzy with it. He ignores the feeling, and together the race across town before darkness falls.

Almost as soon as they turn the corner, A-Ying spots them. The mean looking cultivator from earlier, and next to him the white robed brother A-Ying had seen earlier.

The older brother looks close to tears, while the cultivator paces back and forth pulling on his beard like he's about to rip it out.

But it's all okay, because A-Ying did it. He helped find the boy's home.

He whirls around, hoping to see the relief on the boy's face, but instead the boy is watching A-Ying, something sad and even more lost pooling in that serious stare of his.

"Look, see," A-Ying says, though his tone isn't as cheery as he'd hoped. "We found them."

The boy nods, but he doesn't look at his family at all. His eyes are fixed on A-Ying.

Of all the things he could say, A-Ying doesn't expect the boy to ask him, "...Did you have a good birthday?"

A-Ying grins, warm and bright and cheeks straining to keep all the joy inside.

"Yes! It was the best birthday ever!" He pulls the boy into a hug, uncaring of his dirty robes now that he has such a wonderful friend! "Now go, your family is probably worried sick!"

The boy slowly withdraws with one hand still holding A-Ying's tattered sleeve.

"You too. Birthdays should be spent with family," the boy intones.

A-Ying doesn't answer, but he gives the boy a small, reassuring smile and sends him off. The boy walks briskly to his family at first, then breaks out into a run when his brother notices him.

He watches the tearful, happy reunion for a bit, a feeling full from more than just a filling meal. It settles happily in his chest, warm and content.

Then he turns around and heads back to his shed. By the time the boy looks back, searching for him, A-Ying is long gone.

Halfway back, as A-Ying pats his tummy and watches the lights in the houses turn on one by one giving the town a lovely glow, he realizes he never got the boy's name.

It's okay, he thinks. He has a strange feeling one day he will get to spend another birthday with the boy.

fin.

(link to threadfic here)

#happy birthday to the bestest boy #me: just something short and sweet for a-xian's bday #also me: writes 4k instead #how does this keep happening #i might just post this on ao3 as it is #it's still oct 31st where i live soooooo #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #bushy writing #mdzs musings #xiantober

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 11 months

Text

close to home | chapter eight

plot: the reader discovers that life in the prison wasn't exactly what she expected. With new threats daily, she has to prove herself once again to the group and win Rick's approval. but trouble stirs when the governor attacks.

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,765 Warnings: violence, blood, character death A/N: thanks for reading!

The silence that stretched after the attack seemed to last forever, despite the noise of the baby crying endlessly and Carl crying in his cell. Beth was too young to do anything, and your uncle was just as lost as you were. So you did everything in your power to keep things moving. If things stopped, you died.

You worked with Glenn to make sure Beth and your uncle had a gun on them and locked Carl inside the cell for the time being. Tora went with him, and when you walked by, she offered him every bit of comfort he desperately needed. Oscar and Axel were sent outside to stand watch, and you helped Glenn make sure the place was on total lockdown.

Still, it only filled a short amount of time. And the seconds ticked away like hours. You tried to stay busy, making a meal from dried oats and the last of dried meat. Your uncle and Beth joined you to eat, and you left a bowl by Carl’s door.

Glenn returned from looking for RIck grim and with a shake of his head, disappeared into his cell. That was when the baby started crying. The wails echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and piercing your skull.

You rocked the baby back and forth, trying to shush her.

“She’s hungry,” Beth said sadly, “They’ll be back soon. They have to be.”

Eventually, they were, though it took longer than anyone would like. Soon enough, Daryl was feeding the baby, and you sat at the table with exhaustion that seemed like it’d never settle. You only wanted to curl up in your bed and sleep until the sun exploded.

“You did good,” Daryl said quietly, not to disturb the baby. You were mixing another bottle to be ready when she woke. “In the courtyard, keeping everyone safe. Rick saw that. Everyone saw that.”

“I just did what needed to be done,” You said, setting the bottle down. The image of T-Dog, a man you’d hardly spoken to, being bit filled your head. “Should’ve done more,” you said.

“The way I see it… could’ve been a lot worse,” Daryl said. “They see you now. Like I do.”

You didn’t say anything else but nodded when your eyes met. The baby started fussing again, and he took the other bottle. “You should go rest. You look like shit.” He said.

You scoffed and stood up, “You’re one to talk. Besides, I don’t think Carl’s eaten, and neither have you or Maggie.”

Preparing them dinner was quick and easy. Once finished, you set a small bowl of canned soup next to Daryl and took another to Glenn and Maggie. You knocked softly on the outside of the door and peeked in. The two of them were sitting on the bed, whispering. When your cousin saw you, she smiled and nodded her head.

“Brought you some food,” You said, “It’s not much.”

“Thanks for your help today, (Y/N),” Glenn said, “Sorry you had such a rough day,”

You smiled lightly and gave them a quick nod before leaving them. Your bed called to you, and with the sun having already set, you knew you should sleep. But instead of heading towards your bed, you walked back into the main room. Daryl was still feeding the baby, but Carl had joined him. Tora was sitting on the table and chirped when she saw you. You gave her a good rub as you sat down with them.

“I like the cat,” Carl said quietly, softly petting the cat's back end.

You looked at him sweetly, your heart breaking for the poor boy. “She likes you, too, Carl.”

***

The next day was strenuous, but Rick started to come around. You understood the pain in his heart, the desperation of nothingness and blame. You understood it too well but didn’t have the words to express it. Nor did you believe you should. You’ve barely been accepted into the group, and Rick scared you. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

But, when he saw you sitting with Carl, the baby in your arms and Tora in Carl’s lap, he squeezed your shoulder and handed up a water bottle. You felt it then that he accepted you. You finally felt a relief you hadn’t since you arrived at the prison, and you felt like you could relax.

Glenn and Maggie had left on a supply run in the early morning, leaving you with the other survivors. Daryl had found Carol earlier, and after a quick check, you let her rest with the instruction to drink water. It had been a few hours since then, and you and Beth were tending to the baby when the front door opened, and you heard someone yelling for you and your uncle.

When you walked into the front room, your eyes widened at the woman he was trying to get under control.

“Who is this?”

Your question was ignored as the woman put up a fight, and you looked at your uncle to try and get an idea of what to do. You’d never seen the group with a new person, and you were worried about how this would go.

Luckily, after Rick greeted Carol, he helped get the woman up on her feet, and the interrogation began. You stood with your uncle and listened intently, grimacing when Rick hurt her to get some answers. As much as you hated to admit it, when you heard that Glenn and Maggie were taken, you thought it was worth it.

Anxiety bubbled up in you again, and your fingers started to itch. A discussion broke out over what to do, with Daryl ready to roll out of there any second. But the woman, Michonne, needed to be patched up first. Your uncle watched over you as you stitched her up and set the wound.

Once it was finished, you approached Rick. He was in the middle of packing a gear bag. “I want to go with you,” You said.

“No,”

“I can help. You saw me with those dead ones, and I’m a good shot,” You argued. “She’s my cousin. I have to go,”

He zipped up the bag and set it over his shoulder, “It’s not that, (Y/N). I saw how you handled them, and I believe you’re a good shot. But I need someone here to help Hershel. I don't have much faith in Axel, and I need Daryl with me. I need you here to watch over them.”

His words surprised you, and you couldn’t help the shock of it cross your face. Rick chuckled. “I know. But you’ve proven yourself the past two days. Daryl was right about you. I need someone here.” He offered a set of keys to you.

As much as you wish you could fight it, you came here alone and decided to join a group. You wanted to stay with them, and that meant listening to Rick. You finally nodded and took the keys. “Okay. Just bring them home.”

***

The next few days were a blur for you. First Carl brought in a small group of new people, and both you and your uncle thought they were okay, but you didn’t dare voice too much of an opinion. You may have earned your place, but you still didn’t feel like you had a plate at the table. And you didn’t want the responsibility of telling Rick when he got back.

Which happened sooner than you thought. Your cousin and her boyfriend returned safely, but Daryl didn’t. He had gone off with his brother, and though you were slightly disappointed to see the man responsible for bringing you here go, you understood why he left. You would’ve done the same thing if it were your family.

And then Rick seemed to have some sort of panic episode and chased away the new people. You stayed hidden in your cell, scared he might send you away in his mental breakout. But he didn’t even notice you and the few psychological courses you took in school told you that he was deeply grieving his wife, and the stress of the world was getting to him.

So you went through the motions and followed what everyone else did. With newcomer Michonne being carefully watched, and with Maggie in a state of disarray--despite your efforts to talk to her--Glenn decided that you were the next best person to help him and Carl get some of the prison hallways under control.

You were just sitting down outside, taking a well-deserved break, when a single gunshot echoed around the courtyard. Your eyes widened, and you jumped down just as more bullets started flying.

“Carl, Beth!” You yelled. They had managed to get behind a set of seats, and Carl was firing back in the direction the attack came from. Your stomach coiled into anxiety as you looked around, trying to figure out what was happening.

“(Y/N)!” You looked back to see Maggie running, carrying two automatic rifles. You met her halfway and ducked behind metal cabinets as bullets started flying again.

You followed Maggie’s lead and covered Carol as she ran for safety. The man in the tower was hard to reach, and you were quickly emptying your clip.

When the shooting stopped, it took you a few seconds to realize why. The sound of a truck plowing through the front gates caught everyone’s attention, and your stomach dropped when you remembered seeing your uncle down in the meadow.

Then the truck gates opened, and walkers flooded into the yard.

“Fuck,” You cursed quietly as the shooting started again, “We have to get to Uncle Hershel!” You yelled to Maggie. She was breathing heavily and looked as shocked as you must.

The gunshots started slowing down, and then finally, they stopped, and you and your cousins ran to the gate to get to your uncle. Your shoulder was starting to ache from the kickback, but when you saw Glenn’s truck drive through the gates and head toward Hershel, you breathed a sigh of relief. You and Maggie covered them while Glenn grabbed your uncle and Michonne.

Carl locked the gate behind the truck, and you all greeted Hershel with deep relief. It was short-lived, though, because now the meadow was full of walkers.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead

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carlsdarling · 9 months

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Clingy Carl Part II

Y/N and Carl just can't keep their hands of each other... Basically plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, cheating, getting caught

Tags: @michael-luvs-yumi your request

You couldn't deny that Carl had a special charm for you, although he was a bit younger than you and - from your point of view - still acted quite childish in parts, with his comics and his senseless prowling around out in the woods just for the hell of it.

But you were attracted to him and it had been a pleasure to sleep with him. Carl was so devotional and without any restraint, and he put so much effort into it; he always made sure that you experienced at least one orgasm. By now little Carl was very experienced and knew exactly what to do with his fingers, tongue and cock to make you moan. Besides, he was handsome and cute, and he smelled adorable, and you loved to bury your hands in his dark hair.

So you found that you just couldn't resist him, in fact, on the contrary, you wanted more and more of him. So it happened that you met secretly again and again to have sex - either in the barn, in the car, or at Carl's or your home, when one of you was home alone.

Maggie had already asked you some amused questions. "What's up between you and Carl, Y/N?" she'd asked, grinning.

"Nothing at all," you'd lied.

„He fancies you“, she said, chuckling.

It also flattered you how Carl begged you to fuck him every time, and how needy and submissive he was, just so you'd let him rail you again. He followed you from one place to another for so long, gazing at you with puppy dog eyes, until you finally "gave in" after first being coy for hours. Then it was intense, loud and wild. And Carl was always willing to suck your nipples what you loved.

Just the other day, Carl had stolen Rick's car keys, and you had secretly driven out of Alexandria to do it in the car on a secluded forest road. You were sitting on Carl's lap and you were bouncing on him, riding him passionately, his cock was completely inside you, and he had clawed his fingers into your waist, throwing his head back and moaning so loudly with his eyes closed that walkers were attracted. These had then circled the shaking car in astonishment and banged against it, but you had simply ignored them. "Carl!" you yelled as he gave you your fourth orgasm in a row. You were so wet that the moisture was running down Carl's hips and staining the fabric of the seat.

"Oh God, Y/N, you're always so fucking wet," Carl whimpered, thrusting faster and faster until he spilled himself into you, half-conscious with pleasure. Sticky and sweaty, you remained sitting on top of him, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. His face was just so precious, and you kissed him first on the forehead, then on his nose and finally on the lips.

Breathless and awkward, you redressed in the confined space, Carl climbed back into the driver's seat, adjusted his bandage with the help oft he mirror, and you drove off, not caring about the walkers. Rick eyed you suspiciously as you arrived in Alexandria. "Carl, I didn't give you permission to take the car," he immediately objected as Carl got out. He stuck his head into the car. "And what does it smell like in here?" The pervasive smell of Carl's cum still lingered in the air.

"Uuum. We killed some walkers," Carl dodged. "Actually, we were going to scavenge, but there were too many walkers around."

It was not lost on Marcus, your boyfriend, that something had changed. You hardly wanted to have sex with him anymore, you preferred to fuck Carl whenever the opportunity arose. In the evening, in bed with Marcus, you didn't feel like it anymore and wanted to be left alone. So it was all the more surprising for Marcus when, after three weeks of recurring nausea and after your period failed to set in, you presented him with a positive pregnancy test.

"But how is that possible?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. "We haven't had sex lately!" Enraged, he stared at you.

"Yes, we have," you claimed, "that one time after the barbecue. That suits the timeline. Once is enough, you know."

"We used a condom."

"Well, obviously it had a hole in it."

Of course, you realized that the baby had pretty much been conceived by Carl, because you two had never used protection. But it was a dilemma - how were you going to tell him, what would he think, he was way too young for that sort of thing. So you decided to keep it to yourself for now, until you found a possible solution.

Then came the day when Marcus was on guard duty on the wall and you invited Carl to come over. One of the rare occasions when you could have sex in a comfortable bed. You both were so horny that you just did it for the third time in a row. Carl was lying on top of you and pounding into you with powerful movements, his long hair tickling your face, he was slamming his hips against yours. You had your legs wrapped around him and your fingernails dug into the skin of his back, your head had sunk to the side. You had long since reached the stage where you were just whining, moaning and wanting more and more, begging Carl to keep going. Your skin was slick with sweat, the sheets rumpled, the pillows long since lying on the floor.

"Oh my fucking god, I'm cumming so hard," Carl gasped, just about to thrust faster. A wet spot had formed underneath you.

"Well, that's a fuckin' mess," Marcus' ice-cold voice sounded from the bedroom door. Carl froze in mid-motion and looked with his fucked out face at your boyfriend.

"Marcus! It's not what it looks like... it..." you stuttered helplessly.

"Now I realize why you're pregnant! It's Carl's," he accused you furiously.

Carl looked back and forth between you and Marcus indecisively, he had scrambled off of you and covered himself with a sheet. "You're pregnant?" he asked, horrified.

"Yes, she is," Marcus scoffed. "It's not mine, so you're the lucky one, Carl. Anyway, I'm out of here. Have fun with that little slut, wish you all the best," he sneered wickedly and started to get his clothes out of the closet.

Carl and you sat speechless in bed watching Marcus threw everything into a suitcase, locked it and stormed off. You cried frantically, then noticed Carl gently put his arm around you. "It's not that bad," he comforted you, "We'll figure it out with the baby."

You looked at him with teary eyes. "Really? You're not going to dump me?"

"I'm not a kid anymore," Carl indignantly frowned, hurt. "Even if you think I am. I'm eighteen, I can take responsibility. Besides... I think I've fallen in love with you, Y/N," he confessed shyly.

You returned the hug, stirred. "I love you too, Carl," you whispered and kissed him.

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes smut #carl fanfiction #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines

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peakyscillian · 2 years

Text

Cillian Masterlist

Cillian Requests CLOSED

Please read Warning on my Main Masterlist.

Nearly all of my storys contain smut.

🤍 Requested 🖤 Smut

Cillian : One Shots

Date Night - Boyfriend!Cillian

Birthday Boy - Husband!Cillian Birthday Morning Treat. 🖤

Comfort - It's the end of Peaky Blinders & Cillian is feeling lost.

Magic - The worse period pains of your life so far? Soft!Cillian can help.🤍

Break - Based off writing prompts, Cillian & Y/N break up. 🤍

Unexpected - Everything that's worthwhile comes unexpectedly. 🖤🤍

Away - Cillian is living in Manchester for PB filming & that results in cute Skype calls. 🤍

Practice - Cillian needs help with a tricky scene. 🖤🤍

Hitched - It's your wedding day & Cillian finally gets to see your dress.(R)

Unwrap - Bad day? Cillian can help you. 🖤🤍 Public - Teasing you in public, Cillian ultimate fantasy. 🖤🤍 Heat - It’s too hot to sleep piled together in a bed.

Backseat - Expanded on my NSFW alphabet wild card. 🖤 When I kissed the teacher - Cillian has a fantasy 🖤🤍 Storm - Fluffy!Cillian x Reader. Needy - maybe you’re just a tiny bit needy.🖤🤍 Scars to your beautiful - an Angsty Cillian One Shot🤍 I miss you - Cillian needs to prove he only has eyes for you. 🖤🤍 Surprise - No plot just smut 🖤 Normal - Sometimes Cillian gets to lead a normal life.🖤🤍 Six Months - It's been a long six months for Cillian 🖤🤍 It's My Birthday - Birthday fic for @janelongxox 🖤 Solo - Cillian needs some alone time 🖤

Spice - Twenty years of marriage, maybe things need spicing up. 🖤🤍

Rebel - Cillian is trying to get his teenage daughter to like him again 🖤

Man Like You - Is Reader too young for a man like Cillian? 🖤🤍

Love Affair - Cillian and Reader fell in-love on set, can they keep it a secret on the red carpet.🖤🤍 First - There's a first time for everything.🖤 Fright - Why did you decide to say yes to Cillian when he suggested watching a horror movie? 🖤🤍 Explosive - Sometimes you just can’t wait. 🖤 From The Start - Christmas is the perfect time to tell someone how you’ve felt from the start. 🖤🤍 This Christmas - Starting new traditions this Christmas. Drifting - You and Cillian have been drifting apart lately. Part One | Part Two 🖤🤍 Caught - Mutually checking each other out - can only lead to one thing, right? 🖤🤍 Anxious Darling - Sometimes you just can’t shake the anxiety 🤍

Valentines - Cillian doesn’t believe in Valentines Day, but y/n is determined to make him see sense! 🖤

Easter - Easter with the family. Hungover - The morning after one too many drinks. 🖤🤍 Birthday - Just a filthy one shot for our mans birthday. 🖤

Match - The perfect match.

Babymoon - Cillian just can’t get enough of Y/N being pregnant. 🖤🤍 Daddy's Home - Cillian’s been away filming for months, finally he’s home.🤍 Proposal - Cillian is finally popping the question. 🤍 Sharing - “Because we drank too much last night” 🖤🤍 Part One | Two Medicine - Cillian and family time is the best medicine

Pink - Cillian arrives home early from filming.🖤🤍

Canvas - Reader has an idea, Cillian is definitely on-board.🖤🤍 Merry Christmas, Baby - The christmas party ends with an early christmas gift.🖤

Relax - Cillian knows how to make you relax 🖤🤍 Perfect Valentine - Cillian does something he really doesn’t want to do, so reader gives him something he really likes.🖤🤍 Quickie - A short smutty One Shot 🖤 Award Winning - Cillian actually leaves the house, Cillian’s not winning any awards for his acting but maybe for other things? 🖤

Kiss Me At Midnight - Everyone needs a kiss at midnight 🖤

Cillian : Drabbles

Thighs - Filth from my mind 🖤 Hands - More flith from my mind 🖤 Moving in - A little drabble requested 🖤🤍 Cringe - A drabble 🤍 Back - A little Cillian drabble 🤍 Rain - rainy days in with Cillian & your dogs 🤍 Guest - Wedding Guest Cillian Thirst - Reader introduces Cillian to thirst tweets about him 🖤🤍 Snack - Cillian just wants to eat! 🖤🤍 WAP - Cillian hears that song for the first time 🖤🤍

Morning - Cillian smutty drabble 🖤

Ready - Writing prompt ‘tying your lovers tie’ 🤍 But..what is a dilf? 🤍 Sweethearts - Young Cillian x Reader. 🤍 Selfish - Secretly dating Prompt, for Alex 🤍

Cillian : Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet 🖤 Fluff Alphabet POV: Cillian is your boyfriend this is your camera roll: Part One | Part Two | Part Three 🤍 Memes: Cillian is your boyfriend/husband you send him these memes 🤍

Cillian : Mini-Series/Series

The Date Series : Fem!Reader is set up on a blind date, follow the dates that happen after said blind date. (This will be an on-going series) Masterlist Adored: Cillian Murphy, Movie Star and Sugar Daddy. 🤍 ✨Twenty Five/Twenty Five (Completed) 15.09✨ Masterlist Bend The Rules: Cillian is unhappily married, to someone who doesn’t care about him, surely he can bend the rules? Masterlist ✨Fourteen/Fourteen (Completed) 24.04✨

But a number: Fem!Reader is a young actress but has done a lot with her time in the spotlight, shes also engaged to Cillian Murphy after meeting on set of a movie two years ago, Cillian however is 19 years older than Reader, this mini-series will follow how they handle the age gap, the press and close friends & families. 🖤🤍 ✨Four/Four Completed 17.06✨ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Family Series: One Day - A day on set, Cillian gets thinking. 🖤🤍 Day Off - Part Two of One Day. 🖤🤍 Oh, Baby - Why isn’t giving birth a mans job? ✨Three/Three Completed ✨

Treat you better: You’re cast as Tommy’s new love interest in Peaky Blinders, meaning you have to do all kinds of scenes with Cillian who you know well from the movie/tv circuit, your boyfriend who isn’t supportive is jealous. 🖤 ✨Four/Four Completed✨ One Two Three Four

Cillian : On hold Stories.

Last year: It's the annual Peaky Blinders Cast New Year getaway, but this year Willow would rather not be there. 🖤 ✨ON HOLD 05/04✨ Part One 02/01 Part Two (S) 06/01

What You're Missing: Reader & Cillian have been so busy, spending time together hasn’t happened, Reader needs to show Cillian just what he’s missing over the course of a week.🖤 Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

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manicrouge · 3 months

Text

See You Again

[ᴋʏʟᴇ ɢᴀʀʀɪᴄᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 15/02/24

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After being confirmed KIA, you finally meet with the man who you believed was simply a spirit.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 1.3k

[ᴛᴡ]: Lots of angst squeezed into very few words, discussion of grief, i don't think there's anything else.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: I really loved this and I didn't want this to go to waste so I thought I would post the original ending to the Swing Set before I ended up changing it !! There are no spoilers as the plot is completely different to what this is- I hope you enjoy it !!

However, if you're interested in the new story, the link is here !! I'd really appreciate it as I'm working hard on it and the first chapter is up :))

SERIES MASTERLIST

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

There's something in your throat but you can't quite place it.

You're overcome with a flood of emotion, you have been for a while as you sit in an empty park, rocking backwards and forwards on a swing which creaking would, on any other day, make you uneasy. Yet, you can't hear it through the thudding of your heart in your ears and your concentration on your hands as you press them together, their clamminess cooling with a gentle gust of wind which nudges a few stray locks of hair off of your shoulders.

The sky is pink, settling into an orange, all for the transition to end in a crude splash of redness as the sun acts as an eye and stares over you, basking you in a golden light which you think you're undeserving of in that moment. Her eyes keep you warm, and despite the goosebumps on your arms you feel as though your body is on fire as you sit and wait. The occasional person passes by with their dog, or even alone, you hear their footsteps but you don't see them.

You're ashamed to say that you know when you have to look up, the sound of the footsteps you await are so similar that you blush at the fact that you even know them. But when you've spent forever with someone, you suppose it's something natural. You come to understand the way they function without ever really questioning it: how they stand, how they speak, how they smile, everything is there, and you've been lost without having that humanity to distract you from everything in your current life.

You're shaking, your mouth puffing out as you attempt to fight off the urge to vomit and ruin the dress you have picked out especially for this occasion. You're sure he's seen worse, but you don't care. You fight for composure as though it's the only thing that will keep you alive, yet, the longer you spin around with ideas in your head, you find that the string of sanity is slowly unravelling, succumbing to become that of a entanglement of lunacy.

What if he doesn't like me? Have I changed too much for him to like me?

Self doubt is a killer, worse than any virus and you know that as you feel as though your heart is one more horrible thought away from popping. Bringing your clammy hands to your face, you rub it and let out a sigh as you slowly swing backwards and forwards on the swing. Your feet are firmly planted against the ground, pushing you to and from. The sensation only really aids in your nausea, however, you still persist and you find it strange,

Another breath escapes you as you hear the creak of a gate. It's louder than the occasional squeal emitted by the swing you're sitting on, although, you don't lift your head until you hear the heavy plodding of boots against the ground. There used to be a time whee you would have sprung to your feet and greeted him, only, this time, you don't do that. You remain where you're sitting, maintaining the same pace on the swing.

There's a heavy thud from beside you, the fabric of a duffle bag landing on the side of the swing set. Then the chains rattle as he settles down, the same squeal from your swing set coming from the swing he's sitting on. For a moment, you think the pair of you are just going to sit in silence. Perhaps that's for the better, seeing each other without saying anything you know might hurt him.

'I'm sorry,' he says, the vibration of his voice from beside you almost ratting all of your bones from out of their sockets, rendering you a pool of goop on the floor. 'I made a mistake, should've called you- done something than leaving you in the dark for months,' he adds with a short nod.

Your eyes sting as you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. It's impossible, really, to find something to say to him. A tear clings to your lower lashes as you continue to nod.

'You look nice,' he stiffly follows up.

Still, you nod.

You find it difficult to do anything else as your throat tightens. The longer you look down, the worse the cloudiness in your eyes grows as a tear finally drips down your face, landing on one of the printed strawberries on your dress. You want your madness to persist, you want to have the guts to stand up and scream at him for everything, yet, you know you're not capable of doing that.

'I-I—'

You lift your head to look at him. It's been a while since you've seen him in person, and for a while, you have thought you'd be forever destined to see all his gorgeous features in a picture frame. Yet, here he is, sitting right in front of you. The rise of his chest should be confirmation enough that he is in fact before you and living, but, you don't quite believe it.

So, in an act of bravery, you wipe your hand on the skirt of your dress and reach out your hand to touch his which is holding the chain on the swingset. Warmth greets your fingertips, and his skin moves as you press your fingers into his hand. He doesn't say anything, instead, he watches you.

Pulling your hand away, you move swiftly as you stand up from where you're sitting, taking a step so you're in front of him before wrapping your arms around him tightly. You bury your face into the nape of his neck, inhaling the scent of battle which really brands the both if you in that moment.

Finally, you allow yourself the pleasure of letting out all the emotions as you sob.

His arms wrap around you tightly, and as you knees weaken and your entire body sets alight, he holds you up. You hope your sobs are muffled, although, you find that you care very little as you puff away, cupping his face in your hands. Any form of malice dissipates as you look at him, seeing his face is marked with the same tears as yours- knowing that he has grieved the loss of you just as you had him.

'You're alive,' you cry, looking at him.

His face settles in your hands and you press your finger tips into his cheeks attempting to chase away all the doubt clouding your mind. You can feel him, his body and his eyes on you- everything. He's here with you and the pair of you are alive.

'I'm sorry, lovie,' he exhales, his bottom lip trembling as he takes a moment to look at you. 'You didn't deserve anythin' that happened an- an—'

'Shut up, Kyle,' you firmly say, looking at him, 'you're here, you're here and that's all I want,' you confirm, a stuttering breath passing your lips as your heart thuds against your chest. 'I know you couldn't have told me the truth.'

'It was torture,' he confesses, 'knowin' you thought I was dead and- I'll never ever be able to forgive myself for doing that to you,' he rambles.

His words, while meaningless in that moment also mean everything. Hearing the sound of his voice from him rather than the speaker of your phone means everything.

You continue to cry, you can't help it. Even when he leans forward and places his lips on yours, the pair of you are a crying mess as you embrace each other. It doesn't matter if your skin is on fire, what matters is that he's right here with you, his lips pressed on yours. And even if you were to set alight in that moment, you are sure that the summer breeze will subdue the flame- at least, long enough for you to call his name.

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owlwithanapple · 3 months

Text

Fate Chapter 01. — Lost Girl

Roronoa Zoro X OC X Trafalgar Law

Zoro appears first, Law appears later

I tried to write a heroine from a different world who meets the character of One Piece. The content will have two different world concepts, which are not completely based on the plot of the anime.

It’s a boring world, boring day, doing the same thing every time when open your eyes. The things you must do after getting up are brushing teeth, taking a shower, changing into school uniforms, and taking the subway to school after leaving home.

You have to squeeze into the subway every morning and live this life all day. Arrive at school and enter the classroom. The class is full of noise. The teacher's job is to give lectures as usual, and the students' life is to study or get sleepy.

When the school bell rang, packed your schoolbag and went home. There are many club activities but you just can’t get interested. There are more people on the subway after school, but don’t want to squeeze into the subway with them, so you go home late and go to convenience store on the street.

As usual ran to the convenience store near the school to buy some snacks. Chose my favorite snacks and paid. Find a bench in the park, sit down, unpack the snacks and start eating.

You don’t hate your current life, and also like what you do every day. You just a student, have nothing else to do except for parents to support you in studying. Your parents abroad will feel at ease knowing that your academic performance remains stable.

Part-time jobs are only available on Saturdays and Sundays. Your parents will give you living expenses every month, but sometimes prefer to spend your own money. But students still have to take care of their studies. If focus on work, grades will rise and fall any time.

After parents see the results, it will be troublesome to ask for explanations. Your parents are talented people, and both of them hold senior positions in an overseas company. For the sake of parents’ face and image, you must remain excellent.

The park is as usual with a group of children playing together, an old man walking his dog, some students playing football, and you eating snacks on the bench. Even don’t look at these things you experience every day, you will know them by heart.

Oops, after talking so much, forgot to introduce yourself. Your name is Yuki. 17 years old. Is a student. Don't think of hobbies at the moment, just a passerby, living a cyclical life every day.

You found the snacks had been eaten and empty. Before knew it, the time had come and almost time to go home. On the way to the subway station, the scenery of the city is quite beautiful.

Your life goes around in cycles every day, but the scenery can change every day. Nature is so magical and mysterious all at the same time.

After the traffic light turns green, you start walking on the road. What lights the traffic lights display will change accordingly for people and traffic. When the red light is on, it means stop, when the green light is on, it can move.

Even though there are traffic lights for everyone's safety, accidents will always happen suddenly. An out-of-control car is coming from the left, and in front of you is a little girl who fell on the road.

Everyone around you has fled, except you. The little girl who fell on the road and the out-of-control car are rushing towards you two. Today is the first time in your life that you have experienced such a terrifying situation.

Subconsciously, you lifted the little girl up and pushed her aside, while the out-of-control car rushed towards you. Your legs are trembling and can't move at all.

You closed your eyes unconsciously fell into darkness, but didn't feel any pain when you were hit. You only heard the sound of water, the chirping of birds and felt something shaking.

You open your eyes sit up see that you are on a small boat surrounded by the sea and a group of animals flying in the sky. The scene in front of you makes you tremble with fear. It is a sea and a bright sun.

You was clearly on the road just now, but in an instant was floating on the sea. You look around there is nothing nearby, just you, a boat, the sea and birds.

You pinched your cheeks hard asked yourself, "What's going on! Why suddenly at sea!" The pain felt on your cheek definitely real, you wanted to stand up to see what was going on but the boat started to rock.

It's better not to move. There had just been a car accident on the road, and now you was in trouble at sea. But you are still wearing school uniform, so you were transported here?

But where is this? You are in a boat and then drifting across the ocean, even don't know where you are or where you drifting to. The sun on the sea is so bright and hot, making you so thirsty.

Sitting on the boat doing nothing just drifting on the sea, calling for help but there was no one around. Guess this is the world after death. You are the only one wandering on this sea alone.

You sighed "Am I going to die here? Maybe it would be better to die. It's not uncommon to live such a boring life every day!" You lie on the boat and look at the blank sky in a daze.

Suddenly a big wave came up the boat shook violently. You quickly hold on to the boat and a huge black shadow envelop you. It is a big ship with a sun face sailing on the sea.

The big ship collided with your small boat and crashed, you falling into the sea. You screamed for help desperately hoping the people on the big ship would notice, but your voice seemed unable to reach them.

You are tired, hungry, no strength and finally sink into the sea. This is the scene under the sea, a ray of light and clear water. You have died once, now you have to die one more time. Even death is a cycle.

You close your eyes stop thinking prepare to die peacefully. When you have given up all ideas, suddenly someone jumped into the sea grabbed your arm swam to the surface.

"Hey! Come and help get her up!" a rough voice shouted.

His companion picked you up and took you to the ship "Call Chopper!" another man said.

"Don't crowd here, get out of the way!" A cute voice used his little hands to unbutton you clothes leaned against your chest to hear your heartbeat. He put his hands on your chest and pressed it quickly.

"Don't die! Give me a reaction when you hear my voice!" He shouted to you while giving first aid in a panic. After a golden period of rescue, you finally opened your eyes slightly and started to react a little.

You just accidentally fell into the sea and the sea water choked your throat so uncomfortable you quickly coughed it out. When open your eyes again see a few people surrounding you "Are you okay, miss?" A man with curly eyebrows and a suit says to you with a smile.

There was a green-haired man with three swords hanging from his waist who was wet and drying himself with a towel. He was the one who jumped into the sea to save you. You slowly sat up and stared at the tanuki that saved you?

"Tanuki," you accidentally said.

He jumped around angrily and yelled "I'm not Tanuki! I'm a reindeer!".

After calming down, he pointed himself and said, "My name is Chopper, you?".

After listening to what he said, you inadvertently found that your school uniform was soaked by water, which penetrated your underwear and still half-dressed. You wrapped your arms around yourself to cover it.

You had no idea what was going on yet , woke up and was being looked at by others. Suddenly someone wrapped a towel around. It was the man in a suit. He had a nosebleed. "My name is Sanji. I'm sorry. Chopper was in first aid just now, so..." he comforted you.

You were already trembling in panic, not knowing what was wrong. You died in a car accident and almost drowned in the sea, but after being rescued, you were frightened and overwhelmed by the people in front of you.

But they all kept a distance and didn't force you to do anything. You clenched the towel and covered your face, not knowing what to do and hesitating about how to speak.

"What should we do? She didn't say anything." A woman with long orange hair asked Sanji and Chopper.

The green-haired man came over and said, "Let her calm down first."

A dark-haired woman approached you and gently poked on the back smiled and said, "I hope you're okay."

Seeing the strange and cute appearance of the reindeer named Chopper, you unknowingly let go of your guard. After all, they saved your life but you just kept your mouth shut before thanking them.

They turned their backs to seemed to be discussing something. Out of curiosity, you prepared to eavesdrop on what they had to say but it seemed like were done talking. You hesitated for a moment and just said your name should be fine.

"Yuki."

After everyone heard you speak, immediately turned their heads watched intently. In the awkward situation, you quickly covered your face with a towel. Being in a strange place and with strange people makes you feel uncomfortable and lonely.

The orange-haired woman put her hand on her chest and said, "Hello, Yuki. My name is Nami. The one who saved you just now was Zoro." She pointed at the green-haired man.

"Yuki-chwan! I'm so glad you're okay!" Sanji said with concern through a nosebleed.

"Umm, Sanji, your nosebleed..." You pointed at his face.

Zoro sighed helplessly pulled Sanji away from you "This guy is like this when he sees girls, don't worry about it.".

Sanji was unhappy with Zoro's tone and started to fight.

You survived, who is the person who saved me? A talking reindeer? A cosplayer with three swords hanging from his waist? A pervert in a suit? What kind of world have you arrived in and why are there so many weird things?

"Yohohoho! It's so lively." You turned around and saw a talking skull with an afro hair, you were shocked and dumbfounded.

"Hello, miss." The skull greeted you, but you were already stunned by him.

You are careless, this one is weirder than those people. Nami kicked the skull away and lightly slapped your face, but already fainted and unconscious. Chopper quickly arranged you go to the infirmary for examination.

"Is Yuki-chwan going to be okay..." Sanji said worriedly.

Zoro said seriously, "She's wearing weird clothes."

Sanji kicked Zoro "Marimo! You are not allowed to look at Yuki-chwan with that despicable look!".

"You are the one who is mean!". Zoro fights with Sanji.

Don't know how much time passed before you woke up from a coma. You lay on the soft bed looked at the lights on the ceiling. You thought it was an illusion but now it feels so real. There are many books in the room, the medicines are neatly placed in the cabinets, and a Tanuki wearing a pink hat?

"Tanuki!" you shouted sitting up and pointing at him.

He yelled angrily, "I'm not Tanuki! I'm a reindeer! Chopper!"

"It's not a dream..." You slapped your face so hard that it really hurt.

Chopper holds your hand to stop from hitting yourself. The pain means you are not dreaming. You pinched your face hard and slapped it several times. Chopper was so scared he ran out and shouted for help.

"Someone come here! Yuki is hurting herself!" Chopper yelled as he ran around in a hurry.

After hearing this, Nami and Sanji ran directly into the medical room saw you pinching face. Nami grabbed your hand to prevent from continuing, and Sanji quickly wrapped ice in a cloth and applied it to your face.

"What are you doing! Why are you hurting yourself?" Nami cursed at you angrily.

"Yuki-chwan, I won't allow you to do this to yourself!" Sanji told you worriedly.

"It's really not a dream..." After confirming that was not dreaming and you had really arrived in another world, tears flowed unconsciously from your eyes.

"Yuki-chwan! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have scolded you! What should I do?" Sanji nervously reassured you.

"What happened, Yuki?" Nami let you cry on her shoulder.

Zoro saw Chopper shouting around in a panic. He walked to the door of the medical room and saw you crying, Nami comforting you, and Sanji frantically thinking of ways to tease you.

"What happened to Yuki?" Chopper hid behind Zoro and watched secretly.

"How is she?" Zoro looked at Chopper and asked.

"She fine, it's just weird when she wake up." Chopper said worriedly.

"Hmm..." Zoro just remained silent and stood outside the door watching.

"Zoroooooooo! Chopperrrrrrrr!" came a loud voice.

You heard a voice coming from outside the door and saw Zoro standing in the doorway with Chopper hiding behind. There was a man in a straw hat, followed by a man with a long nose who excitedly ran up to Zoro while grabbing a fish.

"You are here! Zoro! Look at the fish I caught!" The man in the straw hat excitedly showed off the fish to Zoro.

"I know! Keep the fish away!" Zoro dodged the fish in Luffy hand.

"What are you looking at?" The man wearing a straw hat came into the infirmary.

"Hello..." You waved to him.

"Look! I caught the fish! Who are you?" After showing off the fish to you, he suddenly asked who you are.

"Stay back, Luffy!" Nami hit him on the head.

"It hurts..." The man in the straw hat sat on the ground and whispered.

"My name is Yuki..." You said your name.

After hearing your name, he excitedly stood in front of you said loudly, "My name is Luffy! Monkey D Luffy!"

"Why is Yuki on our ship?" the long-nosed man asked with a confused look on his face.

"Due to some minor accidents, Yuki-chwan will be on the boat temporarily." Sanji picked up the fish Luffy just caught.

"Hmmm...I see." Luffy stared at you with curious eyes.

When you were frowning, suddenly Luffy pulled his cheek to make a face. His cheeks were flexible and as soft as rubber. You couldn't help but laugh when saw his face making a weird face at you.

Nami saw your smile hugged you tightly and gently stroked you head to comfort you. Although you was transported to a very strange world, the people here were so warm and you felt a little warm.

"Yuki-chwannnn, smile more!" Sanji danced happily.

"Fnally laughed." Nami laughed.

"Don't always have a sad face!" Luffy smiled as brightly as the sun.

"Thank you, I feel much better." You responded to them with a smile.

"Yuki, do you want talk to us?" Nami asked you with concern.

Nami called everyone to the table to discuss current situation. You are a strange girl meets a ship with some strange cosplayers. Sanji made tea for everyone and put it on the table. You can smell the delicious tea.

There are currently 8 people: Luffy with retractable body, Zoro as a three-sword cosplayer, Nami with long orange hair and tattoos, Sanji with a nosebleed and a suit, Chopper as a reindeer, Brook as a skeleton, Usopp as a long-nosed and black-haired Robin.

Now a tall blue-haired man named Franky came forward, wearing only a underwear and a pair of robotic hands. What a weird group, maybe they are members of a band, you really feel confused about the current situation after reading it.

You clear your throat and briefly introduce everyone, "Ahem. My name is Yuki. I'm from Japan. I'm currently a high school student."

"Japan? What island are you from?" Luffy asked excitedly, standing on the table.

"What's the occupation of a high school student?" Ussop asked curiously.

"Japan is a country, and high school students are students." You explain to them seriously.

"Hmm. A country I've never heard of." Franky looked confused.

"Yohoho. That's why high school students wear short skirts like this. Can you let me see your pantsu?" Brook said with a smile at you.

"Sinful short skirt..." You looking at Sanji's whispered with nosebleed.

"What about you, are you all the cosplayers of some group?" Seeing their strange looks, couldn't help but ask.

"What is a Cosplayer?" Chopper asked doubtfully.

"Cosplayer is like everyone wear some character costumes." You simply explained to Chopper.

"We are not role-playing! We are a pirate group! I am the man who wants to become the Pirate King!" Luffy stood on the table and raised his hands in the air.

"Ha!? Pirates!? What era are we in now!" You stood up grabbed Luffy's collar and kept asking.

"The ○○ era..." Nami said.

"It's different from my time..." You let go of Luffy's collar calm down and muttered to yourself.

"Yuki, I'm curious, what era are you from?" Robin raised her hand and asked.

"I'm from the ○○○○ era..." Robin looked shocked after you answered.

"There is a possibility that Yuki is a person from a different world and era. I have read it in books, I always thought it was a dreamlike existence." Robin told everyone about your possibility.

"Hey! That means Yuki comes from a different world than us!" Sanji was shocked by Robin's conclusion.

"Wait! Could it be sent by the enemy?" Ussop suddenly mentioned.

"If it's true, just cut her off." Zoro stood up held his scabbard in hand.

Ussop mentioned this speculation, Zoro has become wary of you. It makes sense for them to speculate and be wary of you. Most people can ignore a girl wandering at sea, but they saved you.

Sanji stood up raised his feet to stop Zoro from drawing his sword. The aura of the two of them was too strong. You can feel the oppression and intense pressure from both of them while sitting nearby. It's such a terrifying situation.

"Stop it now!" Nami threw tea at Zoro and Sanji.

"I understand your caution. But if she is really innocent, wouldn't it be tantamount to bullying the weak?" Robin said calmly.

"Hahaha! Robin is right!" Franky said with a laugh.

"Yohohoho, if Yuki really wanted to harm us, she could have attacked Chopper in the medical room." Brook gave a simple metaphor.

"Yeah, it was just me and her at that time. It was a good opportunity to make a move." Chopper said seriously.

"Robin-chwan is right! Yuki-chwan is innocent! Marimo!" Sanji complained about Zoro.

"Let's have a fight! Curly cook!" Zoro and Sanji got into a fight.

It’s incredible they all can live together and get along even though all with different looks and personalities. It’s not like you’re dealing with the same people and the same things every day.

You clenched both hands and fell into deep thought. Maybe as Robin said, you and them are in different worlds and just happened to be transferred here or this is the world after death.

"Yuki! Look at me!" Luffy suddenly called.

"Erm?" You raised head.

When you heard Luffy calling, you looked up and saw him sitting on the table, making faces and laughing at you. His expression was so funny that you couldn't help but hold your belly and laugh.

"Oh, laughed again." Robin said with a chuckle.

"Yuki-chwan! Smile more! Your smile is a salvation!" Sanji looked at you with loving eyes.

"Luffy, how on earth did your face stretch and contract like this?" You asked him, wiping away the tears of laughter.

"Hehehe, I became like this after eating the Gomu Gomu no Mi." Luffy proudly showed off to you.

"Gomu Gomu no Mi?" You pulled Luffy's face hard to confirm this fact.

"Devil fruit. After eating it, you can gain certain superpowers. Doesn't it exist in your world?" Ussop asked you after explaining.

"I was only born in an ordinary world that is not as sci-fi as your world." You said about the worldview you lived in before.

"What do you usually do in your world?" Nami asked curiously, sitting next to me.

"It's all about studying and working. I don't have any other hobbies or interests." You told her vaguely.

"So boring..." Luffy said to me with a bored look on his face.

"I feel bored too." You lowered your head whispered.

It is indeed undeniable that your life is boring. Maybe you don’t make friends or participate in outdoor activities. Maybe you are introverted or just weak and incompetent.

You lowered your head clasped the corners of your skirt with your hands remaining silent. You feel so reluctant to let Luffy tell you the truth, but what he said is the truth. You have no reason to deny it.

At this time, there is a sudden gurgling sound in your stomach, which means are hungry. You shyly held your stomach and looked up find Sanji and Luffy smiling, Nami standing behind you putting her hands on your shoulders.

"Sanji, our guest is hungry." Nami said with a smile.

Sanji lit a cigarette, took a puff and exhaled, "No problem!"

Sanji ran away immediately when he heard your hungry voice and Nami's tone. For some reason, everyone was very happy to see Sanji leave, especially Luffy who jumped up and down with Chopper excitedly.

"Hehehe, Sanji is the chef of this ship." Robin said with a smile.

"So that's it." You said with a chuckle.

"That's right! Sanji's cooking skills are top-notch! He's not inferior to the chefs outside!" Ussop tells you excitedly.

"Ussop... I'm curious, do you often lie?" Seeing Ussop's nose reminded of some fairy tale plots.

Ussop quickly stepped back when he heard this, "Why did you say that!"

You smiled told him, "I read a fairy tale book that said that a puppet was born to lie and because of the fairy's spell, his nose would grow when he lied."

Ussop shouted in surprise and thought seriously, "NANIIIIIII, there is such a story! Could it be that I have a long nose because of a fairy casting a spell..."

"It's possible." Chopper came over to gossip.

"Yohohoho, what a funny story." Brook said with a smile.

"It's really strange that skeletons and reindeer can talk. Did you two also eat devil fruits?" You asked curiously.

"Yohohoho, that's right! Are there no skeletons in your world?" Brook asked curiously after laughing.

"Can the reindeer talk?" Chopper asked curiously.

"Skeletons usually only seen on Halloween, but people pretend to be and scare people for candy. I read about reindeer in books. Most of the records are four-legged animals that don't talk." You explain.

"Why do scare people and ask for candy?" Brook tilted his head and asked.

"It's a holiday custom. People dress up as various ghosts and knock on the door from house to house, asking for candy. If they don't give it, they will cause trouble." You said.

"Yohohoho! It's so fun! I want to participate if I have the chance! I have no body but a skeleton body!" Brook raised his hands excitedly to express his happiness.

"What about the cyborg?" Franky asked curiously.

"I've never seen with my own eyes, but I've seen it in science fiction movies." You smiled.

"What is a science fiction movie?" Franky asked, putting his hand on his chin in confusion.

"It's similar to what's shown in TV series." You might make a gesture like drawing a rectangle with your hands.

"What a strange world structure." Franky said with a smile.

Chopper, Brook and Franky excitedly ask you for stories about your world. We all live in different worlds, encounter different things, experience different lives, and live with all kinds of people.

Zoro thought you were suspicious, he stood aside and silently observed your every move. Luffy and Ussop ran to the kitchen to make trouble, while Robin and Nami were listening to what you said.

For the first time, you feel so amazing that you meet a stranger in a strange place. You think each other is weird. After all, the world you grew up in is different, but you feel so at ease with their company.

"Everyone! Food!" Luffy jumped up holding the food in both hands.

"Yahoo! I'm starving!" Ussop happily followed Luffy.

"Hey Luffy! Don't do this! You'll spill the food later!" Sanji held the food and followed Luffy.

"Okay, stop hanging around Yuki. Come over and eat." Nami put her hands on your shoulders and told Chopper, Brook and Franky.

"Bring me the wine." Zoro walked away.

"Let's eat together." Robin smiled and invited you to enjoy it together.

"My new friend Yuki-chwan is here today! I have shown my true skills!" Sanji clenched his fists and said enthusiastically.

You sit at the dining table look at the delicious food placed in front of me. The last time you just ate lunch boxes and snacks from the convenience store, the sumptuous food in front of you was so appetizing.

"Yuki-chwan, please taste it. You can give me a review." Sanji smiled, poured you water and handed you a knife and fork in a gentlemanly manner.

"Okay." You took it from him.

"I caught this fish!" Luffy confidently showed off to you.

It is a different kind of fish from your world, you cut a small piece and stare at it. After taking a deep breath, carefully put it into mouth and chew it slowly and tasting it carefully.

It's different from the fish you usually eat. Although it doesn't suit their food taste, you chew it, swallow it and take a sip of water. Luffy said it was fish but the texture seemed a bit strange when chewed but the taste was delicious.

"How does it taste Yuki-chwan?" Sanji asked with nervous hands shaking.

"Erm...the ecological species of fish are different from mine, so I can't get used to it." You told Sanji your thoughts.

"So it's delicious?" Sanji looks forward to your reply.

"It's delicious! Thank you! Sanji!" You responded to him with a happy smile.

"Yuki-chwannnnnnnn~The most important thing is that it suits your taste~" Sanji jumped up excitedly when he saw your smile spurting nosebleeds.

"Sanji...your nosebleed..." You tried to comfort Sanji but he seemed unable to control it.

"Don't worry, he's always like this." Robin put vegetables into your bowl.

"Thank you Robin." It feels like Robin is like a sister taking care of your diet.

"Yuki, how do you plan to live in the future?" Ussop asked while chewing food.

"I..." You were silent, having no idea after what to do.

"Nah! Do you want to join us for an adventure? It will be fun! Hahahaha!" Luffy said, holding a large piece of fried chicken in his hand and filling his mouth with food.

"Me?" You pointed at yourself.

"We can't let you live on the streets for the rest of your life." Nami said with a smile.

"Yohohoho! Fate has brought us together!" Brook said happily.

"I'm happy to have an extra nakama." Robin chuckled.

"Superrrrrrr~" Franky raised his hand and put the stars on his wrist together.

"Yuki~" Chopper took your hand.

"Then...thank you." You stood up bowed to express your gratitude.

"Yuki-chwan~Welcome~" Sanji was so happy and put a lot of food into your bowl.

You see that the bowl is full of food looks like Sanji is overly excited. But getting along with them is not a bad thing, everyone is very warm to welcome you as a stranger.

"Yuki-chwan, what else do you want to eat? I can get it for you~" Sanji served you considerately.

"Eat more for yourself." You cut a small piece of fish put it into Sanji's bowl.

"Yuki-chwannnnn so gentle~ This piece of fish is so delicious!" Sanji was moved to tears.

You see that Zoro is not at the table and ask Sanji "Zoro, doesn't he eat?"

Sanji frowned sighed helplessly, "Ignore that Marimo."

"Sanji and Zoro don't get along." Robin whispered in your ear.

"So." You finally understood.

Luffy's appetite for food, how big the portion is and how quickly he stuffs all the food into his mouth. You were almost full, but remembered that Zoro hadn't eaten yet, you put some food in the bowl and gave it to him later.

"Yuki-chwan, where are you taking the food?" Sanji asked curiously.

"Zoro hasn't eaten yet, I'll give him some." You stood up and left the table.

"Damn Marimo! Let a girl serve the food!" Sanji shouted angrily.

"You're so noisy Sanji!" Nami yelled at him.

You looked for Zoro with a bowl filled with food, and you saw him sitting and drinking while watching the sea. You slowly approached behind him feeling a strong sense of oppression coming from his back.

His vigilance never slackened from the beginning as he drew his sword pointed it at you. You were so frightened that you stopped quickly because his sword was pointed at you and your legs began to shake.

"What?" Zoro showed a fierce expression.

You were afraid that he would stab you with his sword, but you still swallowed your saliva and said, "...You didn't come to eat. I'll get you some food while Luffy hasn't finished eating, otherwise you'll starve."

He put the sword into scabbard and say "put it there." then continued to drink.

You put the food in his designated place and leave silently. Before leaving, you looked at his back thought for a while. Even if he made you feel scary and powerful, bu still had to say what you should say.

"Zoro...thank you for saving my life." Although he didn't look back , you still bowed to his back to express your gratitude.

"..." He just sat there silently.

"Don't just drink, remember to eat." You reminded him warmly again that the food was just there and left.

After you left, Zoro looked back at the food you put aside. He put down the wine, held the bowl, took a fork and started eating. He gulped down the food in the bowl, burped, put the bowl down and continued drinking.

You came back to the table and saw Robin waving to you "What's wrong?"

"I'll take you to your room." Robin stood up and walked to the room with you.

Robin is really beautiful. She has long black hair, is knowledgeable, and has a slim and tall figure.You couldn't help but keep staring at her, feeling very envious of her figure and you just a short girl.

"Why are you staring at me?" Robin glanced at you.

You panicked and covered your face with your hands, "I don't mean any harm, I just think you're beautiful."

"Hehehe, thank you." Robin chuckled.

You followed Robin to the room opened the door see Sanji and Chopper all well organized and waiting for you to come in. You stepped into the room and saw that although it was just a simple small room better than sleeping on the roadside.

"Thank you very much." You smiled.

Robin pointed to the clothes on the bed, "They are old clothes, if you don't mind."

"Why would I mind! I'm so grateful!" You bowed.

Robin leaned against the door. "Hehehe, is bowing also a custom in your world?"

You put your hand on the back of your head smiled, "It's actually a custom in the country where I live, to express gratitude. Everyone does this even if they pick up things for passers-by."

"I see. There are really rules." Robin chuckled.

"Yuki-chwan~ You don't need to do that here. We are more relaxed here." Sanji lit a cigarette and smiled.

Chopper jumped and raised his hands, "If you feel uncomfortable, you can come to me. I'm a doctor."

You squatted down and said, "Wow, that's awesome, Chopper."

Chopper is shy "Your compliments don't make me happy at all.~"

You looked at the shy Chopper "This is what happens when you are praised..."

Sanji held a cigarette and proudly said, "You can come to me anytime if you are in danger, hungry or need a hug."

"How considerate." You smiled shyly.

Sanji saw you blushing and nose bleeding, "You look so cute when you are shy!"

"Hehehe, let's leave first. See you later." Robin waved and left the room.

Sanji and Chopper followed Robin out of your room. You collapsed onto the soft bed and sighed. After what you have experienced now, you are sure that you are not dead yet, you are in another world.

The world of pirates...it's incredible. How on earth could you be suddenly transported to this world? Is this the so-called world without wonder or the world full of unknowns?

It’s really tiring to have to accept so many weird things all at once. You were about to die but did not die. Instead, you went to another world and almost died but was saved again. You feel exhausted, just closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep.

To Be Continued—

*If you have any ideas leave them in the comment section, and I will try to add in the story.*

71 notes · View notes

pedrostylez · 7 months

Text

Something Else - pt. 8

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: Frankie and Benny confront Santiago and Will, and the leadup to the mission

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 6.4k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened, ptsd, mention of drugs, smut, p in v, honestly pretty tame, tears, drinking, bars/club

A/N: Aaaaannnnddd we’re back! After rude anons and a mini break while I tried to remind myself that this is just for fun, I’m back with part 8. A huge and massive shout out to Hemmy, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for not just cheering me on, and beta reading, but also helping me dissect my own brain to make sure my worries about how I write these characters were put to rest. Imagine the conspiracy theory gif? That was her with spreadsheets. Thank you so much for helping me and being just what I needed. There is 1 more drabble and 1 more part and then that is the end of Something Else! How spooky and scary! There is no timeline for posting at the moment, but just a heads up!

Anyways, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all. There is this lovely little arrow at the top left when you start reading that if you don’t like it anymore, you can click on it to stop reading. However, I am a slut for respectful comments, thoughts, and questions, so feel free to send those to me either privately or on ask. Please support all fanfic writers by liking, reblogging, and interacting. Thank you!

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot @brittmb115 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @bluetattoos

Frankie’s anxiety is at an all time high going back to the hangar to tell Santiago that he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t settle, even though he wasn’t the only one-that Benny didn’t want to go again. To be retraumatized again.

His anxiety was put to rest when he stepped into the garage, boots echoing on the concrete to Santiago and Will sitting at the folding table in the corner. A sudden calm over his nerves when he saw Pope’s face. “Fish!” Will exclaimed shortly, nodding at him to come over.

Frankie approached the table and sat down across from the two of them, sighing heavily before clearing his throat. Pope looked like he wasn’t doing well; like he had lost sleep with the bags under his eyes. “I’m not going.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Santiago starts to apologize. “Frankie, I didn’t mean to put you–”

“Stop,” Frankie holds his hand up, taking a deep breath. “I’m not ready to go now, but…in a year? I could…I could be ready by then.”

“Should we really be planning that far in advance?” Will asks, tilting his head toward Pope. Still relying on who he thought should be the leader.

The door to the garage already opened again, Benny standing off to the side as he listened in. He shook his head in mild disgust, addressing Will. “If we plan now we can avoid what happened last time.” Benny calls, hanging up his hat on the coat rack. “Because clearly it wasn’t planned well last time.”

Will shakes his head with a scoff. “Hey woah–”

“No, let me talk.” Benny stands at the table, tapping his fingers incessantly against the chair. “Frankie and I have changed.” His hand rests gently on Frankie’s shoulder, squeezing to try and tell him that he’s got this. “We aren’t the same loyal dogs you brought last time Pope, and we can’t just go into this without some planning.”

Santiago nods, swallowing roughly. “I had a plan last time, it just…” He blinks, unable to finish his sentence.

“It didn’t go well.” Benny nods, filling in the blanks. “Listen, I get it. You want all of us to be taken care of.”

“I want to make up for last time.” Santiago says quietly, flicking his eyes between Frankie and Benny.

“Is the best way to do that by going back?” Frankie asks just as quietly, eyeing Pope. “How much of this is actually thought through?”

It’s silent for longer than before, as Pope swallows hesitantly. “I just…thought-”

“You can’t be in charge of this.” Benny states. “You’re too emotional, wanting to fix whatever happened. But we need to be logical, take the bull by the horns and think rationally. And you–” He points to Will. “You were just going to go along with this?”

Will shakes his head, pointing at Santiago. “What? No I thought he had a plan–”

“But you didn’t confirm it? Before calling Frankie incessantly and sending him almost over the edge and back to his dealer?” Benny exclaims, causing a silence to fall among the group.

“You’re using again?” Santi asks breathlessly.

“No! Stop.” Frankie turns to Benny. “I am fine. But we need to do what Benny says and handle this rationally. If we want to do this, then we need to be methodical.” Frankie stands his ground, looking between Will and Pope as they look at each other.

Will finally nods, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right.” He crosses his arms and debates for a moment. “One year from today.”

Frankie and Benny nod, in unison. “One year.”

1 Month Later

“Are you coming with us tonight?” You asked hushed into the phone. Anna is still in the bathroom, and you’ve snuck around the corner to her bedroom where you could speak to Frankie quietly. “I miss you.”

Frankie’s chuckle is dark through the phone, delicious against your ear. “I miss you too, hermosa.” A heavy sigh and some shuffling. “You said it was girls night weeks ago, I can’t crash it now.”

“You know Santi might!” You exclaim quietly, giggling when you hear Frankie’s huff.

“No, he’s going to be here in maybe five minutes. We are going to review logistics.” You swear you can hear Frankie smile after the pause he takes to inhale. “What are you wearing?”

“Don’t start.” You say seriously, looking down at your clothes. You resist the urge to cringe at yourself, trying to step into this new found confidence that you’re trying to convince yourself you have. Anna had wanted you to have fun tonight, dress however you felt and she would be the one to watch over you. A change in the routine-something that you’ve noticed she’s been working on. Her ability to apologize and to turn things around had shocked you at first, but it was different-it was better. “You might die if you see it. Would be better if you didn’t come out, actually…”

“Well now I’ve got to know, baby.” Frankie muses, humming when you deny again. “Should I convince Pope that we need to go out?”

As you’re about to answer, Anna steps into her bedroom with a pointed look. “We agreed on girls only! No boys!”

You laugh at the same time that Frankie does, telling him you’ll see him later before hanging up and putting your phone into your purse. “Alright! It’s gone.”

“Good.” Anna laughs, brushing out her hair one more time in the mirror. Her jeans are riding low on her hips, crop top showing off her belly button as she turns to you. “How’s my outfit?” She asks quietly, almost timidly.

“Very belly forward.” You joke, looking down at what you borrowed from Anna’s closet again. You hear her giggle and sigh as you mess with the dress painted on your body, blue and sparkling, strapless with fake sleeves, a cut out just below your chest. This is out of your comfort zone.

You feel slightly self conscious, adjusting until Anna’s hands stop yours. “You look amazing honey. If Frankie doesn’t have a heart attack when you get home later, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You smile, looking into her eyes for a moment before sighing. “Alright, I’ll trust you about this dress. It feels like it’s going to fall down.”

Anna giggles, picking up her phone when it vibrates and sighing. When you give her a questioning look, she shrugs. “Santi has been…strange, recently.”

You frown, following her to the door as she slips on her shoes. “Do you want to talk about it before we leave?”

She hesitates, debating in her head. “He’s just, really insecure right now after Frankie and Benny told him they weren’t ready to help him in South America.” She gives a rueful smile. “I don’t mean to bring up Frankie-”

“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head, yanking on her arm to bring her to the couch. Anna had updated you on what she had been told from Santiago a few weeks ago, and was flustered when you had told her all the information that Frankie had spilled so early on. While she knew a lot of it, there was some that she hadn’t-such as how their friend died. Anna was on this streak to be blunt with everyone around her, so she had confronted Santiago. “What’s he saying?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “I think I’m being impatient with him. He’s not…saying anything.” She furrows her brow in concentration. “I asked him how much money was on the line a couple weeks ago. He kinda just froze. Said he would take care of me. But I told him that wasn’t what I was asking and–” She hiccups, holding back tears. “Now it’s like he doesn’t hear anything I say. Just stares off into the distance, saying he shouldn’t be the leader of the group. I asked for details about Redfly and he just tells me that I wouldn’t understand the hell he has been through. What is that supposed to mean?”

You take a deep breath with her, nodding. “Give it time, Annie. From what Frankie said it seems like Santiago always has it together, and now he’s trying to…get his footing again.”

Anna nods, agreeing with you. “Yeah, I’m just being too impatient.”

You go to tell her that’s not the case, that she’s really just trying to navigate a situation with a man that doesn’t know what he’s doing either, but she stands suddenly and plasters on a smile. “Come on, let's have fun. Sprite for me, rum and coke for you.”

You’re shit faced.

It’s probably the first time in a while that you’ve actually had more than a couple drinks, which frankly has always been plenty, but tonight you’ve indulged much more. It reminds you of the first night you met Frankie, when you indulged and had to spend the night at his place, and you can’t help the smile that appears on your face, dancing with Anna in the center of the room.

You never dance.

“You look fucking hot!” Anna yells in your ear, giving you a thumbs up before twirling and giving an excited squeal. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes!” You yell back, laughing at how ridiculous you’re both being, yelling to each other in the middle of a dance floor that very few people are attending around you.

As it gets more packed, you squish closer to Anna, keeping a protective hand over her shoulder, her opposite hand on yours. You’re a wall together, only having fun with and for each other. The bass of one song begins to hurt your ears, wincing when the beat drops. You go to tell Anna, hoping that you both can step away from where the speakers are focused, when you feel a large hand slide on to your waist.

Anna’s eyebrows come together in concern, looking around your shoulder to see who has their hand on you. She relaxes almost instantly, smile appearing. “Hey!” She yells, removing her hand from your shoulder. “I knew you would show up anyways!”

“Pope is by the bar, buying you a drink.” A familiar voice booms next to you, and you immediately know it is Frankie. You turn around in his embrace, watching the smirk on his face creep up into a smile when he looks down at you. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi, Fishy.” You slur, giggling when his eyebrows shoot up at your nickname for him. You hadn’t called him Fish, even after learning of the nickname.

“How many drinks have you had?” He asks, leaning into your ear to speak more softly. He brings one hand up to your cheek, lightly stroking at your jaw with his thumb as if he knows the music is too loud for you.

You bite your cheek, swaying in his arms before holding up your hand. “Plenty!” You yell, slapping your hand on to your jaw over his fingers. “The music is too loud.”

Frankie nods, pulling you with him over to the bar. You’re smiling at him, eyes unable to move away from his face until he sits you down on a barstool with a quick kiss on the cheek. He looks over to where Anna is leaning against the counter before raising his eyebrows subtly at you. Her arms crossed and annoyed next to Santiago. “Alright over here?” Frankie asks, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, man.” Santiago calls, looking over to Anna who downs a shot. She looks over at you, softening her gaze.

“Are you all set?” She asks, looking only at you.

You nod, pushing away from Frankie. “Let’s go to the bathroom, and then I’ll have Fishy take me home.” You hold your hand out for her, snatching it and letting her pull you along to the bathroom as Frankie watches you. He winks, making you giggle happily before stepping into the low lit room. “Are you okay? You want to come home with me instead of Santi?” You slur out.

“No, it’s okay.” She sighs, laughing as you step into a stall and stumble to sit. “He and I need to talk anyway.”

You hum, sitting quietly before blurting out. “I feel hot in this dress, I get why you have so many now.”

You hear Anna laugh through the stall door, your coordination slow and clumsy as you stand. “It’s all about how you feel in the dress, honey.” You open the door, looking at her and smiling. “And, sometimes, it’s the alcohol too.”

When you say your goodbyes to Anna, hugging her tightly and waiting for her to get into Santiago’s truck, you’re whisked away by a smiling Frankie. “You’re very funny.” He muses, helping you into the passenger seat of his own vehicle.

“What did I do?” You question, pushing crunchy hair out of your face unsuccessfully. The hairspray you and Anna had thought you needed suddenly feels too heavy on your head.

“Fishy? Really?” He laughs, shutting the door and walking around to get into the driver’s seat. “Where did that come from?”

You shrug, tilting your head to look out the window as he pulls away from the curb. “It’s just the rum.”

He hums again, placing his hand on your knee and driving with just one hand. His thumb traces circles into your skin, causing you to break out in goosebumps that he smiles at. “That’s a very pretty dress, hermosa.”

You smile, looking at him and attempting to bat your eyelashes. You think you’re probably unsuccessful. “It’s sparkly.” You whisper. The sober part of your brain wants to hit you, as that was not what you intended to say.

He chuckles, giving your knee a squeeze. “Very sparkly. Lots of skin too.” He husks out, pulling into a parking spot in front of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He helps you out of his truck, sliding your key out of your fingers to help you into the apartment. You sink into your couch, leaning back and eyeing him as he slips off his boots at the door, and his hat on your coat stand. “How was your meeting with Santi?”

“Good.” He confirms, standing straight and walking over to you. “Need help with your shoes?” He smirks when he kneels down and you gasp, nodding happily with a blush painting your cheeks. God, him on his knees– “No funny business tonight.”

You give a small pout as his fingers clasp the strap, wiggling it through the buckle and sliding it off your arched foot. You sigh happily when he sets it down on the carpet, moving to the other foot. “Got some things planned out for this trip, and we’ll make some adjustments as needed. Need to get a bank ready too, even though it seems too soon.”

“Anna and Santiago are having issues.” You hiccup, watching as he looks up your legs before to your face. “She says he just stares off into the distance.”

He nods, patting the side of your leg. “He’s upset. Thinks he’s going to let us down.” Frankie admits, wincing when you frown. “Do you need help putting on pajamas? Or can I make us some food and you won’t fall asleep on the bed?”

You clock that he has changed the subject, but can’t help it when you say. “You don’t want to help me? Take off this dress?” You wiggle your shoulders as tantalizingly as you can, making him laugh.

“As tempting as that is hermosa, you get too handsy when you’re tipsy.” He laughs, helping you to stand and petting the hair in your face to be behind your ear. “Go get changed, I’ll make you something.”

You watch him go to the kitchen, pouting for a moment longer before flouncing into the bedroom and finding comfortable pants and a shirt of Frankie’s he had left recently. You could get used to this.

6 months later

Frankie finishes the sentence on the page in front of him, glancing his eyes up to your face. He sees the way you’re biting your lip, anxiously tapping your foot against the carpet. “Querida–”

“You can tell me it’s bad.” You spit out, running a shaking hand through your hair. “I have to read this to the class, and if it’s not good then you need to tell me. I have to rewrite it.” The clock is ticking as far as you’re concerned, and Frankie is acutely aware of it. He has tried to coax you away from the assignment, over and over to no avail. You’re dead set on finishing it.

“No.” Frankie says firmly, smiling at you as he holds the page close to his chest. “It’s beautiful. Really, really good.” He means it, to his core. Just as he had with all your other work, but something about this one was different.

Your face softens, an embarrassed flush creeping up your neck at the tone of his voice. “You’re just saying that?” You question, holding out your hand for the piece of paper.

He shakes his head, refusing to give it up. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” He says quietly, looking down at your words again.

Your poetry was what he would describe as easy. Smooth reading, vivid in painting a picture, without large and confusing words for dummies like him. He could feel your voice, hear you in his head as he read it silently. Ever since you had taken the courage to start school again in creative writing, he could see the improvements. He could see the passion as you sat next to him most nights, his couch or yours, scribbling away until you were satisfied, leaning against him to fall asleep after the words had consumed your every thought. Between your class and him being at the hangar more, he had opted to start driving you to work just to spend more time with you.

You cleared your throat, shaking your hand at him to give back your work. He stood, taking a couple steps over to you and setting the paper on your desk. Leaning in, his lips pressed softly to your forehead. “I want to see your name on a book.” He whispered quietly.

You gasped, eyes wide as you pulled away from him. “I’m nowhere near close to something like that!”

“Eventually.” He shrugs, resting his hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place. “Your cute little smile on the back cover.” He smirks, squeezing the tension out of your muscles. “You’re talented, baby. You’ll write poetry for a generation. Do you hear me?”

You try to brush him off, but he’s not having any of it. He refuses to let you speak negatively about your writing as he leans over you and presses kisses to your face, over and over until you are giggling in delight. He laughs with you, pressing a final kiss to the underside of your jaw and holding his breath as he feels you relax against him. “I hear you.” You sigh, eyeing him sleepily.

“Good.” He husks, pulling you away from your desk and on to your bed, where his hands find purchase at your thighs. You hum as he maneuvers you to be cuddled against him, legs wrapped around his body and his arms around your shoulders. His hand trails up and down your back slowly, soothing himself as your breathing gets heavier with each passing of his fingers. “Relax with me.”

It isn’t long before you nod off with the setting sun, exhausted from self-induced stress and worry of the assignment you took on. Frankie feels you slack against him, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you dream, warm in his embrace. He feels peaceful, after months with you supporting him and him returning it for you.

Frankie shuts his eyes at the thought of how close he was to caving into his addiction when Santiago first suggested going back. How you, unknowingly, had kept him grounded enough to seek the help he needed.

“You can’t rely on just one or two people, Francisco.” You said quietly, eyes flicking to Benny who was sitting in the corner of his couch. He nodded along with your words. “It’s your decision on what to do, and I’m so thankful you’ve been honest, but I need your help in finding what works best for you.”

“Do you want to do AA or therapy?” Benny gruffed out bluntly, wincing when you shot him a look in warning.

Frankie laughed quietly, shaking his head from the doorway. It wasn’t the ambush he thought he would get, but it was the appropriate one. “The AA meetings around here aren’t great. So, which therapist is it then?”

He feels lucky to have you.

You adjust in his hold, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply. The humid breath against his skin makes him smile, his hands twitching to tighten around you. He thinks he’s in love with you, whispering it into existing as you continue to sleep soundly in his arms.

1 year later

You’re nervously pacing around your kitchen, phone stuck to your ear as Anna tries to soothe you. “They’ll be alright honey. This is why they waited the whole year, right?” Anna confirms, but you hear the sound of her biting at her nails. She’s nervous too.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me talking about this?” You cringe, bringing your shoulders up to your ears as you hear the tell tale huff of her trying to control her emotions. She’s been sad-it’s been months since the girls night out where her and Santiago broke up, but Anna continues to be the sounding board for your nerves about Frankie going to South America.

“Yes, of course it’s okay that you talk to me about this.” You hear running water through the line. “I still…care about him. You already know how I feel about Santiago. He needs to do this before he’s normal again and Frankie is your boyfriend, you’re allowed to be concerned about him. This is…not a typical thing to have to deal with.” Anna amends, the water stopping and a dull thump. “These dishes have to be soaked anyway.”

“I knew you were doing dishes.” You say triumphantly, stopping in your tracks and looking to your own sink. You had avoided doing dishes for a couple days, and now you thought they were piling too high. Maybe you should do some too…

“Focus, honey.” Anna giggles, taking a deep breath. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Well…they could die. And we won’t know.” You immediately blurt, tears threatening to bubble over at the mention of it.

Anna hums thoughtfully, carefully answering. “Frankie won’t keep you wondering.”

You nod, forgetting she can’t see you. “I know.”

“It’s alright to be scared.” She whispers through the phone, and you swear you hear her sniffle. “You love him, don’t you?”

“We haven’t…” You stutter at the thought, a soft knock on the door before Frankie’s head peeks around the corner of your entryway. He smiles, silently stepping in and sliding off his boots. “He’s just gotten here.”

“I’ll text you.” She sighs. “Keep me updated tomorrow? Love you.”

“Of course, love you.” With a quick click, you slide your phone into your back pocket and turn to Frankie, whose hands are in his pockets as he observes you. “What?”

He shrugs, smirking. “You look wound tight, querida.”

You scoff, walking toward the couch and sitting heavily. “Well, one of us should be.” You mumble, pushing him away from you half-heartedly when he sits down and wraps an arm around you.

Frankie waits for you to settle, watching you intently as his eyes flick back and forth between your lips and eyes. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” He says lowly, tightening his hand around your shoulder.

“I’m asking because…I’m concerned.” Frankie was running his fingers through his hair like his life depended on it, yanking at the roots before sitting down on your couch. “Do you remember how you shut down in the coffee shop? What happened there?”

Frankie had been more open about his feelings since starting therapy, and you wanted to encourage that. Sitting down next to him, you sigh. “I was insecure.”

“Why?” Is his immediate response. He didn’t understand how you could be insecure-he was absolutely infatuated with you.

“I thought that Anna wanted to…try and…” You shuffle and readjust, embarrassed next to him. “It feels silly now, but I thought she wanted to like…take you away from me. Even though we weren’t together.”

Frankie pauses tilting his head. It suddenly clicks in his head, the day he was hiding in your closet and the face you made after her comment. “Was she serious? That day I was hiding?”

You shake your head. “No, no. She and I have this, stupid running joke from high school that I grew out of and she…well she didn’t. And, I didn’t tell her sooner–”

“Why?” Again Frankie pushes, clenching his teeth.

“So many questions.” You smile as he leans back, mumbling to himself to chill out. You take a deep breath and try to start somewhere in the story that makes the most sense. “A couple years ago, I was trying to rebound off a guy that had been dating me that was really in love with her.” He grumbles more, not giving a true response but frowning deeply. “And the rebound, he was just a fuck boy…didn’t mean anything, but I was getting attached because it had been so long since I felt like someone wanted me, you know? And he had sex with Anna in the bathroom like that night anyway.”

“She knew you liked him and fucked him anyways?” Frankie’s anger is apparent now, and your cheeks heat with both embarrassment and happiness. Frankie being protective over you was a nice change.

“I thought she knew, yeah.” You say quietly. “But she didn’t know. I’m giving her a chance to…fix it.”

Frankie pauses, trying to go through his memories of Anna interacting with him before he cuts them short and grabs your hands. “Thank you for telling me.” He brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering kisses to your knuckles until you lean back on the couch with him. He pauses when you sigh, a small smile appearing as you look at him. “I don’t like guessing what you’re feeling.”

You nod, clearing your throat of any lingering emotion. “I’m working on it.”

A final kiss to your cheek before he squeezes your hand. “We can work on it together.”

You take a deep breath, trying to avoid his gaze. You’re still trying to make sure you say exactly what you’re feeling-no room for guessing. No room for error, just like you both had agreed on. “I’m worried.”

He hums, bringing his other hand up to your cheek and lightly tracing your jaw. “I am too. Anything specific?”

You bite your lip, wincing at how the immediate thought was of him dying. “I’m worried about whether you will be okay.” You whisper, trying your best to hold back tears.

You don’t succeed when Frankie tilts his head and blinks slowly at you, a small but sad smile appearing on his face. His thumb brushes under your eyes, willing your tears away. “You know there’s a plane ticket for you, for two weeks from now, to come down there with a list of locations and names if you don’t hear from me.” He whispers back. “Do you want me to not go?”

You scoff again, pulling your face away from his hold and wiping at your own eyes. “Of course I don’t want you to go.”

“But do you really not want me to go?” He asks again, resting his hand on your knee.

You pause, shaking your head. “That’s not up to me.”

He waits, squeezing your leg to get your attention back on him. “Let me bring back this money, with all of us in one piece.”

You nod, letting tears flow freely now. “I’m scared, Francisco.”

He gasps lightly, the sound of his full name rare to come out of your mouth. “I’m scared too.” He goes to stand, but falls on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs to let him shuffle between them, to be closer to you. “Look at me, baby.” He pulls your attention with a sudden jolt at how serious his tone has become. “I can’t make promises to you. I can’t tell you I will come back without it eating at me while I’m there. I would hate to make you a promise and for the worst to happen. But everything has been thought of, from every angle possible.”

You nod, wiping at your face again. He grabs at your wrists, holding you firm before pulling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue against yours, aggressive in how he shows his want for you, and something tells you that he needs it like this–that its the only way to distract him from his own worries.

You think it will distract you too.

Burying your hands into his hair, you press your mouth to his desperately again. He groans in surprise, but lets you lead and slides his hands down your sides, pulling at the hem of your shirt. You pull back enough to nip at his jaw, at the bald spot in his beard before sucking a mark into his skin.

He hisses, pulling you flush to him and silently lifting you and himself, blindly walking toward your bedroom. You stay attached to his neck, desperate for something he can feel for the next few days while he is gone. He drops you on the bed, laughing when you squeak in surprise and bobbing up and down on the mattress as he reaches for the band of your shorts.

You’re trying to commit it to memory. The sound of his moans, his laugh, the way his skin slides against yours. There’s this voice deep in your brain warning you to not forget, because you don’t know what will happen. It distracts you enough that suddenly you look up when Frankie calls your name, waiting for your eyes to flick to his. “Come back to me, baby.”

You shakily inhale, reaching for him to lean over you rather than sitting above, pressing your lips to his again lightly. You’re naked together, skin to skin as he breathes deeply and watches you. The words are stuck in your throat, dry and unable to emerge.

Frankie brings one hand to your cheek, holding you steady. You feel his press against your center, wet with want and anticipation. “I love you, querida.”

You gasp at the words, him slowly sliding into you and holding his position fully seated inside. He groans, closing his eyes for a moment before locking them back on yours. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.”

“I hear you.” You whine, shutting your eyes tightly and wincing at the feeling in your heart-how it breaks that he might not come back. “I love you.”

He sighs in relief, sliding out of you before pressing in again and setting a slow pace. “That’s it baby. Take me. You’re so fucking good for me, huh?” He holds himself above you, leaning back to sit up straight as he watches you squirm, clutching at the bed sheets, for one of his arms. He keeps eyes contact with you as he gathers spit in his mouth, letting it slowly drop on to your clit before pulling back again and setting a rougher pace. “Fuck–I love you so much.”

You begin to cry, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside you, of the feeling of him loving you. He leans forward worriedly, asking if you’re alright but continues when you dig nails into his back. “Keep going. Fuck–p-please.”

He shushes you, keeping close to you as he brings you and himself to release. He whispers how much he loves you, and you to him, resting on top of you while still inside. You revel in the feeling of each other, only realizing you’ve started to doze off when he leans away. “You’ll either love it, or you’ll hate it.”

You frown, confused by what he’s saying while trying to be conscious enough to understand. Frankie slides off the bed, naked as he walks back into your living room and shuffles around in the duffle he brought with him.

When he comes back he smiles, hands behind his back before kneeling on to the bed and relaxing next to you. He pulls his hat out from behind him, holding it out to you expectantly. “I…I want you to hold on to this.”

With shaking fingers you reach out, rubbing the worn fabric between your thumb and forefinger. “Are you sure? It’s your favorite.”

He smiles, nodding. “Yeah, baby. Don’t want to lose it in the jungle.” Your breath hitches, tears coming to your eyes. You nod, watery and worn as you lean into him for a hug. You feel his own breath hitch with your ear against his chest. “I love you, baby.”

You sniffle, trying to control yourself. “I love you too.”

You swallow your tears as Frankie drives up the long dirt road to the hangar. “Covertly leaving.” He said early this morning, kissing you lightly at the crook of your neck. “Don’t want to be stopped at the airport like last time.”

He can feel your nerves, and he works hard to keep his own at bay as he holds on to your knee. The bumpy road doesn’t affect you like it did on the first date, the early morning light just barely peeking over the horizon.

You’ve been silent since you left the apartment with him, stoic in how you present. You’re trying to keep it together.

When Frankie pulls up to the building, Will’s truck is tucked behind a few trees and covered with a tarp just as planned. You’ve been given explicit instructions to drive Frankie’s truck back to your apartment and to work as if he is staying with you, as well as where all of the paperwork is for what he owns and who to contact. You’re a crucial part to the plan.

Frankie grabs his spare hat from the backseat, old and ratty, placing it on his head with a sigh. He swallows roughly as he steps out and around to your side, opening the passenger door to find you still sitting and staring straight forward. “Alright?”

You nod, grabbing onto his outstretched hand and hopping out of his truck. You clear your throat as you step into the hangar, Frankie’s fingers squeezing yours briefly before he stepped away to the helicopter that had been brought in for the mission. You stand awkwardly at the doorway, eyes flicking over to the other boys who are around the folding table where hot coffee is made.

“Up early, aren’t you?” Santiago’s voice filters through your thoughts, his gentle smile filling your vision.

“A-a little.” You flash a smile, accepting the coffee from Santi’s outstretched hand and holding it with shaking fingers. You hope it will keep your hands warm.

Santiago stands in front of you awkwardly, watching Will and Benny gather duffles and loading them into the helicopter while Frankie does his routine of checking the helicopter in the pit. Santiago’s brow furrows for a moment before he looks up to you again. “Is…a-are you and Anna, doing better?”

The question disarms you, shaking your head in confusion. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. I just ask because…well, you know.” Santiago clears his throat awkwardly again. “Sorry, I uh…is Anna doing okay?”

You sigh, seeing where this is going. “She’s okay. Yeah.” You pause for a moment, debating how much to share. “She…worries about you.”

Santiago’s eyes brighten in what you think is hope before dampening. You stare at it for a long moment, his eyes are dark, tired and drooping. He looks to be frowning, but you think it’s just how his face has stayed since him and Anna broke up. “I worry about her too.”

He nods at Frankie as he approaches, stepping away without another word. His hand rests on the small of your back, your hands still clutching the cup of coffee Santiago gave you. It’s purple out now, the sun filtering through the trees in a way that makes everything appear different. The air is still crisp, biting against your skin.

When Frankie turns you to face him, his fingers pushing your chin up to look him in the eye. “It’s time for you to go home, baby.”

You breath catches as you nod. “O-okay.” You swallow before blurting out. “Please be safe.”

He blinks slowly, smiling. “Two weeks. I left my wallet on my bedside, I want you to buy yourself groceries while I’m away with my card.” You go to tell him no, but he stops you with a heavy sigh. “I love you. Do you hear me?”

“Frankie, I’m not using your card, there won’t be a trace of you leaving anyways. I’ll drive your truck I swear–”

“Do you hear me?” He interrupts, holding you still as he looks to be committing you to memory.

You sigh, nodding once. “I love you, too.”

You wait by the driver’s door of his truck, as he takes a step back. “Buy food with my card. Not because of the mission, but because I want you to eat. Two weeks, and I’ll be back.” He says quietly, waiting for you to open the door and drive away.

It’s awkward for a moment, as your mind is racing but your body is still. “Right. Two weeks.” You agree, finally turning to his truck and shutting the door. You look at him as you start the ignition, pulling the gear into reverse. He stands in the drive as you go down the dirt road, watching him in the rearview mirror. He stands tall, hands in his pockets as he watches you before waving just once. Tears sprout out of your eyes the moment he disappears over the hill.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic

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blurredcolour · 4 months

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I Wish You Love | Part Three

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

The letter you never intended to post has a slew of consequences and life will never be the same for anyone – you and Captain Nixon most of all.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Angst, Class Divide, Infidelity, Dishonesty, Minor Reader Injury, Blood, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5211

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

Lieutenant Nixon’s reply arrived in early October. The weeks since the family’s return to Lydiard had been bleak. The change from summer to autumn typically brought with it a renewed sense of energy, vigor, and anticipation for the festivities to come at the end of the year. All you seemed to feel was the life draining out of the world around you, underwritten by a growing sense of dread that culminated in the arrival of the morning post that day.

You lost your breakfast in the bathroom, hands shaking as they wiped your mouth clean, unable to face the contents of the envelope. Miss Isobel, for her part, was basking in her re-insertion into her social circle around Lydiard – gentlemen callers, vapid daughters of landed gentry. She barely noticed how unwell or vacant you looked, though catching your own reflection in her mirror as you fixed her hair reminded you to get a grip until you could take Dash for his walk.

Even once you’d reached the lake shore, the dog settling into a more relaxed pace after his initial excitement at the outset, you remained reluctant to open it. It felt as though there were a ticking time bomb lurking in your dress, awaiting one wrong move. The only problem was, you’d already made that wrong move.

“No going back now.” You muttered grimly and gingerly slid the letter from its envelope.

The pages crinkled in your hand as your gripped them fiercely, trying with all your might to swallow past the lump in your throat. You weren’t entirely sure which part was worse, reading him pledge his undying devotion to another woman or the fact that he would not give up on her unless she were to outright refuse him. Because despite the utter mess you had made of it, there was no possible way you could ever find it in yourself to do that.

And so, like the complete coward you had become, you took a page from Miss Isobel’s book and simply did not reply. As you should have done all those months ago in May. It was her intention to leave his correspondence unanswered, you were just, finally – after a long and twisted path – honouring her wishes. Never mind that it turned all food to sawdust in your mouth and robbed you of sleep, changing you into some sleep-walking wraith.

Letters continued to arrive from him, every three weeks or so, and were promptly stored away in the bottom of your suitcase with the rest. Sweet Izzy was as good as dead. There was only the real article left and she was just as much a handful as she’d ever been, carrying-on with some doctor at the prison camp now. The air turned cold, sparkling frost replaced the morning dew on the lawn. You barely noticed it as you allowed Dash to drag you along behind him on his daily sojourns.

Your father was begging you to come home on your day off before Christmas, maybe it would do you good to get out of Lydiard for a while – out of your grief-stricken stupor and back into the land of the living. Returning Dash to his favourite cushion in the sitting room one morning, you quickly grabbed a tray to collect one of the cut crystal glasses that had surely been left in there by a house guest the night before. You were crossing through the front hall towards the back stairs when you heard Mr. Atkinson open the front door.

“Good day, Captain Nixon.” His tone was as professional as ever, but you still managed to note the hint of surprise as you whirled around to see the very man whose letters you had been avoiding standing there in his dress uniform.

Two gold bars now adorned his garrison cap. So that was why Mr. Atkinson had called him Captain. Struggling to inhale a full breath, you realized much too late that you had lost sensation in your fingertips, the sound of the tray and its fragile cargo impacting the ground overtaking whatever Captain Nixon had said in reply to Mr. Atkinson’s greeting.

Cursing under your breath, you crouched quickly to snatch up the tray, frantically trying to pluck the shards of broken crystal from the floor with your bare fingers as your heart slammed against your rib cage like a bird trying to escape its confines. A particularly large, jagged edge caught the flesh of your palm, making you hiss as blood welled scarlet against your skin.

“Whoa, easy there.” Captain Nixon’s voice was a lot closer than you expected, making you jolt back, startled. “Let me see that.” He coaxed gently as he grasped your wrist in one hand, producing a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket with the other. “You really shouldn’t be picking up broken glass with your bare hands, you know.” He chided with a soft grin, expertly wrapping your hand with the soft, expensive cotton.

You watched silently, wondering how many times he’d performed similar acts on his fellow soldiers in the heat of battle. You’d never realized quite how good his aftershave smelled, how the hints of vanilla and allspice wrapped around you before.

“There, all better.” His voice shattered through your retreat inward, and you looked to him quickly, barely meeting his warm eyes, the same shade as his favourite whiskey, before you had to look away lest your expression betray your inner turmoil.

“Thank you, Captain.” You murmured softly and shuffled backward again before pushing to your feet.

“Almost makes me sorry I got promoted.” He smirked and your brow wrinkled in bewilderment as he rose to his feet. “Miss being called ‘leftenant.’” He shrugged and you gulped as tears stung your eyes with a sudden viciousness.

“If you’ll follow me to the sitting room, we’ll find Miss Isobel, sir.” Mr. Atkinson stepped forward, shooting you a reproachful look.

You tensed rigidly with a quick nod. One of the footmen had arrived with a broom and dustpan to continue cleaning up your mess and you surrendered your tray filled with broken parts, wondering if they could all see the shattered pieces of your heart laying there upon it too. Dashing up the stairs towards Miss Isobel’s room, you endeavoured to regulate your breathing, not needing to dissolve into hysterics now. There was no escape. Your Waterloo had come, it seemed, and you may as well face up to the mess you created with your own two hands and a pen.

Knocking on the door, you entered only once Miss Isobel’s voice called out to you, finding her lounging on her bed with the newest edition of her favourite magazine.

“Miss Isobel, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.” You clenched your fists at your sides, digging your nails into the heels of your palms, the ersatz bandage on your right hand driving home the purpose and necessity of what was about to be the most awkward conversation of your entire life.

She let the magazine drop to the duvet dramatically with an annoyed, expectant look upon her face as you clicked the door shut behind you.

“Captain Lewis Nixon is downstairs, Miss–”

“What?” She interrupted sharply and you took a shaky breath, seizing the last threads of your composure in a death grip.

“He’s come because…well I’m afraid he believes…” You struggled to sum up the litany of your offences tidily.

“Oh, do get on with it.” She huffed, tossing the periodical aside and sitting up, patting at her hair vainly to check the style was still in place.

“Captain Nixon is under the impression that you have been writing to him since May, Miss.” You forced the words out in a rush, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as she stood slowly.

“Whyever would he think that? He been drinking too much again?” She laughed snidely, smoothing her skirt.

Clenching your jaw, you shook your head firmly. “No. Because I’ve been writing to him in your name.” Your voice trembled but you managed to keep it at an audible volume, standing completely still as she stalked over to you with a cold rage in her eyes.

“Why you sneaky little bitch.” She sneered before her palm lashed out to smack across your left cheek with a harsh ‘crack.’

Blinking rapidly as your eyes immediately began to water, in retrospect you wished you had given her a piece of your mind, but in reality, all that tumbled out of your mouth was a series of apologies. “I am so very sorry, Miss, I just wanted him to feel supported while he fought overseas. I know it wasn’t my place and I swear I meant nothing by it I–”

“You are dismissed.” She cut you off with words you dreaded and yet expected all at once. “You filthy fortune hunter. Did you really think he’d fall for such stupid tricks?! What a foolish girl you were all along, just like I told Papa. He’s married you know?” The cruel glee that lit up her eyes before she began to laugh like a jackal made your blood curdle, the word ricocheting through your brain.

…married….Married…MARRIED…

“Now remove yourself from this house at once, I never want to see your face again. I will be sure to inform Atkinson and Papa just what you’ve done, you horrid girl.” She reached behind you to wrench to door open and pointed, sending you fleeing from the room towards the back stairs with that singular, devastating word still echoing in your mind as your vision began to blur.

Bursting into your room, your former room, you collected your limited number of possessions and roughly shoved them into your suitcase and duffel bag. Stripping out of your serving dress for most likely the last time you would ever wear such a garment, for you were surely leaving without a reference, you pulled on a wool dress and coat before taking your things down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen. Ignoring Mrs. Brigham’s call from the kitchen you dashed out to the garage to fetch your bicycle, strapping your luggage to the back fender and taking off down the side drive as fast as your legs could peddle.

Eventually you had to slow down, legs aching, lungs burning, allowing yourself to glide along the asphalt of the road into Swindon as you finally permitted the tears that had been brimming at your waterline to slide down your cheeks. In truth you should be more upset about the loss of your job, especially as the main breadwinner in your family, but it would be easy enough to get a job at the Railway Works. It most likely would pay better and have shorter hours too – your father had just never approved of you becoming a ‘canary girl’ with skin and hair tinged yellow from hours of pouring TNT into shells for use by the military. Well, he’d have to get over that now, if he wanted to keep the flat and have food in his belly.

No, the far more distressing thing in all this was the fact that you’d allowed yourself to develop such deep-seated feelings for a married man. It was honestly no surprise that Miss…just Isobel now…had carried on with him despite that knowledge, but that was a line you would have never allowed yourself to cross knowingly. You let out a wry, watery laugh. What a pathetic line to draw amidst lying, impersonation, and god knows what other sins you had surely committed. Your bicycle wobbled to a stop as it ran out of momentum, and you slowly began to pedal once more to keep progressing towards town. The heavy load would certainly double the usual time it took to get there.

The sound of vehicle approaching from behind had you carefully steering toward the shoulder, giving them as much room to pass as possible. As the American military jeep drove slowly past, you held your breath, heart plummeting to your stomach as it too pulled off onto the shoulder, stopping a few feet in front of you. Captain Nixon jumped from the left side and began striding back towards you with a very determined look upon his face. Of course, Isobel had told him everything, she had made it clear she would, you had been naïve to hope to avoid this moment. Dismounting carefully, you turned your head to quickly wipe at your face, wincing at the tenderness in your cheek born of Isobel’s palm, before turning back to find him standing directly in front of you.

“So, it was you.” His voice was quiet, quieter than you’d ever heard him speak, lacking his usual playfulness.

“Yes.” Your voice refused to come out in anything above a whisper, so you nodded to be sure he understood your answer, gripping the handlebars so tightly the cut on your palm ached in protest.

“Was it some kind of joke, then?” He scoffed, crossing his arms defensively and your eyes widened in horror at the idea of doing something so cruel.

Captain Nixon’s eyes flicked your throbbing cheek, and you wondered if it had started to swell. “No.” You replied with a firm shake of the head.

“Did…did you mean a word of it?” His voice was laced with a dangerously tempting hint of tenderness and you felt your lower lip tremble precariously.

Of course you had, every word of it in fact, but there was no way you could admit to such things now that you knew the full truth. Clearing your throat painfully you took a deep breath to steel your nerves.

“I see you’re not wearing your wedding ring, Captain. Were you afraid you’d lose it?” You replied to his question with one of your own, feeling every bit of pain that unfurled across his impeccable features as though it were your own.

Gritting your teeth against it, lest you give in to your weaker impulses, you steered your bicycle around him and continued on your way to town. Captain Nixon did not stop you. Did not say a word.

Regret would stalk you for weeks, your harsh, high-handed words replaying cruelly in your mind any time you read or heard about the surprise German offensive through the Ardennes.

Your hasty packing job had inevitably resulted in failure and Helen kindly took it upon herself to deliver the last few items you had missed on her day off. Word of your transgression had spread like wildfire through Lydiard House, and while she did not seem to approve of what you had done, she did have sympathy for Captain Nixon who had apparently ‘departed immediately for France’ after leaving that morning. It could not have been a full week before the Germans pushed through into Belgium and his Regiment was deployed in desperate defence.

The Battle of the Bulge was discussed endlessly at your easily acquired job at the Swindon Railway Works factory where you were immediately put on the assembly line filling shells with TNT and gingerly tapping detonators into their caps. Tap too hard and a girl could lose her limbs – it was something everyone on the floor had witnessed at least once, you were told. The exacting work was fairly sufficient to keep your mind off the fact that you had sent a man to his possible death with nothing but harsh admonishment.

If he had found you not fifteen minutes later, you may have been able to bite your tongue, to answer him truthfully. Surely, he had deserved it after the dishonesty you had perpetuated, but your pride and cheek were smarting awfully from your ill treatment at Isobel’s hand, and you had taken it out on him. For all your judgment of her as a twenty-five-year-old spoiled child, you had behaved no better when it truly mattered. You had not been very forthcoming with the details upon arriving home to your father, freshly unemployed, but he had tolerated your silence and poorly hidden tears as you made up your old twin bed in the corner of the sitting room.

You were also able to save a little money, no longer needing the neighbourhood girl to come by the flat to clean once a week as you were able to manage that outside your hours at the factory. In fact, you found yourself with too much free time, and a dramatic increase in wages, deciding to visit a used bookshop to pick up a novel to read just after New Year’s. The display in the shop window with a relatively new World Atlas caught your attention and you found yourself leaving with it as well as a well-worn copy of War and Peace so that you might finally finish it.

As your father turned on the BBC news broadcast on the wireless that evening, the pair of you sitting side-by-side on the worn sofa, you cracked open your Atlas to follow along with the locations named on the pages within. The mention of the 101st Airborne or the ‘Battered Bastards of Bastogne’ as they were now affectionately known, made you inhale sharply. You squinted at the small village on the page, a spider’s web of roads all converging on that singular dot, truly illustrating its strategic importance.

“I really don’t understand what happened up at the House, sweet pea, and you never have to tell me. But whoever that American Lieutenant is, you really ought to let him know how much you care for him.”

You looked to your father slowly, pressing your lips together before exhaling through your nose “He’s a Captain now.” You murmured softly.

“Whatever his rank, my girl, whatever transpired, tell him.” He eyed you firmly.

“But–”

He held up his hand, silencing you. “I won’t terrify you with the things I’ve seen or endured. But I swear to you there is nothing more important when the world is so intent on tearing itself apart.”

“Oh Daddy…” You sighed tearfully and he pulled you into his shoulder as you wiped at your eyes quickly. “…what if it’s too late?”

“Oh, sweet pea.” He squeezed you tightly into his side. “It might be, but at least you’ll have tried and that’s all any of us can really do.”

You nodded weepily, quieting down as Churchill came on to give an inspiring address before you stood to clean up for the night, seeing your father to bed before turning in yourself. As you lay in your bed in the corner of the room, staring at the water-stained ceiling, you turned your father’s words over and over in your mind, not getting a whole lot of rest. On your way home from work the next day, you stopped by the local store to pick up some nice paper and a new pen. With all the writing you had undertaken last year to both Captain Nixon and your brother, your stores were running low, and a fresh start felt appropriate for the task you were about to attempt.

As you father settled in to listen to the news that night, you took a seat at the small table in the kitchen, staring at the crisp, white sheets, gnawing on your lip thoughtfully.

You signed your name before tapping your pen against the tabletop thoughtfully and quickly added a postscript before you could convince yourself not to do it.

Folding it up carefully you looked up startled to see your father leaning in the doorway with a fond smile on his face. “Well done, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” You sighed softly, sealing the letter into the envelope before seeing him to bed.

Posting it on your way to work the next day, you tried to put it out of your mind. You had done your best, just as your father had encouraged, and now it was in the hands of the Royal Mail. As the weeks ticked by, you undeniably deflated a little more each time you checked the mail and found no response. Your resources to check on his welfare were limited, but according to what you had access to, Captain Nixon’s name was not on any of the grim lists of wounded, dead, or missing. Which most likely meant he was not replying to you by choice. It was no less than you deserved.

It was not until the beginning of March, the soft caress of spring chasing away winter’s chill, when you came home to find an odd grin on your father’s face. He could hardly sit still in his favourite chair, watching you intently as you reached for the pile of post on the end table. You eyed him a moment until he glanced at the letters in your hand, and you looked down to the immediately recognizable cursive, heart skittering and skipping a few beats as you traced the letters of your name written in Captain Lewis’s hand for the first time. Definitely alive.

“Think I’ll go down to the pub tonight.” Your father was halfway out the door before you looked up and you sighed deeply in response.

“Thank you, Daddy. Be home for dinner in an hour, alright?”

“An hour and a half.” He winked before making his way out.

Shucking off your jacket, you hung it on its peg near the door before sinking onto the worn sofa and used a butter knife to carefully open the envelope.

Laying the pages down onto the worn tabletop you cupped your cheeks, aching from the broad grin that had taken up residence there as you read Captain Nixon’s letter. It was quite honestly more than you could have hoped for in a reply. More than you felt you were worthy of. Like a reward for bad behaviour, but one that you had spent the past month and a half trying to deny you craved to the very marrow of your bones.

It took a lot of restraint not to pull out a sheet of paper and begin a reply immediately, but the insistent growl of your stomach reminded you that neither you nor your father had eaten dinner yet. But after. After you were both fed, you were most certainly going to stay up far too late answering his question.

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Read Part Four

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagine #lewis nixon imagines #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

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lizzie-is-here · 1 year

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bucky barnes oneshot

the white cat

bucky barnes x fem!reader

a late night stop at the animal shelter, a truck, and a dinner date

a/n: not bucky’s cat being named after the place he died 💀 anyway sorry i’ve disappeared i got busy lmao. BUT. i have an idea for a new series based entirely off a winterguard show i was told ab this year by dupont manual so we’ll see if it goes anywhere 👀

the white cat pt. 2

Working at an animal shelter had its benefits.

For all the sad stories you often had, you also got to save pets, watch them get healthier, and most of the time, go to a loving home.

Plus, every so often, a very attractive customer would come in, and, seeing as you are the only employee constantly in the so-called “meeting room” for potential adoptees, you would help them.

Today was one of those days. Or, rather, nights.

Technically, you were closed. Everyone else had left earlier and you’d stayed to clean up. You were sweeping up fur and treats, listening to the radio as you worked.

The man outside the window showed up around 8:56.

Normally, you’d be creeped out. A woman, alone, while a man stared at her through a window? It’s the plot of, like, every Scream movie.

But you recognized this man. He’d been showing up the past few days, not to ogle you, but to ask questions about the cats you had, what he’d need to buy, what kind of care they needed.

You’ve only seen him, never actually talked to him, but he seems sweet. A bit shy, very nervous.

“Hi.” You wave and the man looks behind him before pointing at himself. Laughing, you nod. “Yes, you.”

Setting down a cup of pens, you unlock and open the door for him.

“Sorry about coming in so late. Are you guys even open?” He fiddles with his glove-covered hands, turned a bit awkwardly so his left side is further away.

You shrug, not wanting to scare him off. “We can be. What can I help you with?”

He scratches at the back of his neck before pointing towards the back. “Can I get a cat?” He pauses before barreling on. “I’ve done all the research, got all the stuff set up back at my apartment, and honestly…”

He trails off a bit. “I think it’d help with some… stuff.”

You understand. Plenty of people need company, and you could confidently say that animals provided plenty of that.

“No problem,” you smile. “Come with me.”

Leading him back, you don’t comment on the fact that he makes no noise when he walks, or how a soft, pleasant whirring like quiet machinery has reached your ears.

The meeting room has a few beanbag chairs, a table, and cat and dog toys scattered around. The mystery man sits cross-legged on the floor, looking up at you with eyes that make you think he might be the puppy.

He looks around, a little lost. “So, what do I…”

You pick up where he leaves off. “Are you looking for anything particular?”

He shakes his head, and some of that shyness seems to shake away too.

“No, I trust your judgment.” He smiles. You ignore the warmth in your cheeks and whisk away to the back, looking into the kennels until you find what you’re looking for.

A young cat, only a few months old. Just came in last week. Every time that man has come in, she’s been excited.

“Alpine, sweetie, c’mere.” You gently coax her into your waiting arms, cradling the white fluff as you head back to the room.

It’s impossible to miss how his eyes light up when he sees you, even more so when he spies the cat.

You sit across from him, so close your knees touch, and pass off Alpine.

“She’s so small,” he whispers, almost reverently. You chuckle, watching her climb unceremoniously into his lap.

“She likes you. Been trying to see you all week.” His eyes are still fixated on the little white blob that contrasts his jacket. “Her name’s Alpine, unless you wanna change it?”

He pauses, laughs a bit like there’s some inside joke there, and shakes his head. “No- no, Alpine’s perfect.”

A few minutes later, he’s filling out the paperwork and making small talk when you finally notice his name and age.

James Buchanan Barnes, age 106.

The ex-Winter Soldier. The Howling Commando. The Fallen Sergeant.

He notices you mentally smacking yourself and holds out his right hand.

“Hi, I’m Bucky. Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he chuckles.

You wave a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry if I made you feel weird.”

Bucky shakes his head and readjusts Alpine. Steeling his nerves, he gives you his best smile and finally does the second thing he was hoping to achieve tonight.

“No, no, you didn’t make me feel weird at all. In fact-“ He meets your curious gaze. “-I was wondering if you like to go out sometime?”

You can feel the blush you know he can see, but manage to respond anyway.

“Yeah, I’d really like that, actually.”

Apparently, he isn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly, and pauses for a bit.

“I- Uh, what’s a good time?”

You gesture around. “I get off work tomorrow at 7:30?”

“I’ll be here.”

The two of you enjoy the moment, Alpine purring softly in Bucky’s arms. It’s perfect.

Until a car horn honks from outside. Heading out, you see a truck with three other people in it.

Three other Avengers, to be exact.

“Thought you’d never be done!” Sam Wilson jokes from the driver’s seat. From the passenger’s, Natasha Romanoff waves while Steve Rogers opens the back door for the soldier next to you.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry, they’re being stupid,” he grumbles. “But, I’ve only got a motorcycle, so I needed some help.”

“It’s cute that they came along,” you say. “Still on for tomorrow?”

He laughs and gestures to the truck. “If those heathens haven’t scared you away, then yes. Absolutely.”

“I’ll see you then?”

“See you then, doll.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #alpine #give bucky his cat

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swampstew · 1 year

Text

Spoiling Eustass 'Captain' Kid

500 follower milestone achieved ~ thank you to all the lovely folks who like my content enough to follow and constantly support. You are all beautiful beans and I so appreciate every single one of you. As promised, here is the Spoiling Captain Kid bedtime story. Enjoy spoiling our mans♡

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: None! Fluff piece with GN Reader, SFW (with some suggestive spice) but as always my content is only for ADULTS.

Minors DNI you will be blocked

Being with a man like Eustass Kid is anything but easy. His ambitions, his temper, his sardonic and gluttonous personality – all highly guarded walls to keep trespassers away. His reputation and his crew as his guard dogs to keep anyone from getting too close.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t love in his heart. For Killer.

The crew.

For you.

He hadn’t meant to fall for you but he did before he could articulate what he was feeling. By then he was in too deep. Couldn’t get you out of his head, his bed, or his heart.

A Captain has duties and Kid is a busy person. Between strategy meetings, communicating with contacts in the Underworld, commanding the crew and Victoria Punk, his time in the workshop, and everything else in between, you could see that his day-to-day schedule was running him ragged.

You had enough.

No man, not even Eustass Kid, is immune to burnout. Working out the details with Killer, you plotted a day of pampering and relaxation for the aggressive redhead. Whether he wanted it or not.

The ship is quiet. Too quiet. Kid’s suspicious scowl grew deeper as he walked around. Normally when the crew found a port to dock at, there would be stragglers around the deck nursing hangovers. Not today. He first noticed when he woke up and dragged his feet to the kitchen to grab you and him some water.

Now you were gone too. What the fuck!

Slightly jumping from the bathroom door suddenly swinging open, you stand before him in a cute little outfit that made his eyes dilate. He shook his head out of those spicy thoughts.

“Where the hell did everyone go?”

“Killer gave everyone a day off with a rotating skeleton crew to guard the ship!”

“The fuck? And he didn’t run that by me first?!”

You shake your head at him, “It was decided amongst the Commanders, Killer and me.”

Kid did a double take. “You all did what now???!”

“Everyone has the day off. You included. Now get changed, your itinerary is all filled up.” You pass the handwritten schedule into his flesh hand.

The vein in his forehead throbbed as he looked over the sheet.

Morning – Self-care start with breakfast provided. Full body treatment to follow.

Afternoon – Hot springs and lunch after. Nap optional.

Evening – Banquet with after party. If the Captain behaves, he’ll be provided with an additional gift.

“If I behave?” he growled, lowering the sheet from his face.

“Yep! Try to wear something a little casual since we’ll be out of our clothes a lot.”

That swiped the scowl off his face to be replaced with a grin. A grin he kept on his face as you both strolled through the island lazily. Kid is almost unrecognizable wearing shorts and a muscle tank top, his trademark goggles traded in for a pair of large, tinted sunglasses with golden rims. The day is bright and sunny, not too many people out on the streets, and his lover hanging off his arm – not a bad way to start his imposed day off.

When you reached your destination you almost had to pull Kid inside.

“We’re here stop dragging your feet!”

“You didn’t say anything about a nail salon!”

He much preferred to paint his nails himself, even after he lost his left arm he insisted on trying to use his power to create a normal sized-scale prosthetic. While it was manageable, it was nowhere near as precise or cleanly done as when he had both organic arms.

“Who cares? They get paid to do a job no matter how crusty your toenails are!”

“Y/N I AM NOT CRUSTY!!!!!!”

In the end you manage to pull him in. Kid remains entirely silent; face flushed as he sits in a leather chair that also had a massaging feature while his feet soaked in a heated tub. The manicurist quickly removed and painted his nails on his right hand while an adventure drama played on a screen, not once daring to speak aloud. Even the visual transponder snail seemed nervous, the screen slightly rippling on the edges.

You came through the door carrying a platter and two bags hanging from your arms. While your feet and back experience the same treatment as Kid, you hand feed him donut balls and ripped off pieces of bagels. He even has you lift his iced coffee for him to drink so he doesn’t have to move his body from the pulsing chair.

Nails freshly done and bellies satiated, you both head to the back of the salon. Through a heavy glass door, you both find yourselves in a spa house. Kid quirks his hairless eyebrow at you.

“Look, I’d normally take care of you myself but you’re…particular with how you like things done and I’d rather not get yelled at. Humor me and I promise you’ll feel stress free and relaxed and maybe add 5 years to your lifespan ok?”

With a grunt he gently shoves you off to the side in annoyance as he walks up to the receptionist. To Kid’s horror, he is to be subjected to a hot stone massage, a full facial, and then dipped into salt-rich mud for gods only know how long.

He enjoys it even if he tells you he hated every second.

Your room is next to his while you receive your own massage and you could hear his pleased growling and muffled moans as the massage therapist worked out kinks from his back not even Killer or you could work out. You didn’t hear him object to the facial and you thought you might have even heard him hum when the specialist told him they didn’t know why he needed it on his flawless face. That made you scoff; you were just trying to spoil your man – and on your own dime, thank you very much! Kid is ANYTHING but a cheap date.

Nothing could prepare you for how utterly out of character Kid looked while he reclines in the mud bath. The Dead Sea mud is known for its purgative and restorative properties. It exfoliates and tightens skin, eliminates harmful bacteria, and nourishes the skin and scalp.

Healing qualities aside – Kid is covered entirely in mud save for around his eyes. Even his hair was thoroughly coated. You hold back a laugh and sink your body next to his, working the nutrient rich mud over your skin and hair. It’s only an hour but time feels eternal in the chamber, the harmonic sounds of tuning forks and melodic singing bowls being rung as you both slipped into a tranquil, meditative state.

Free from the mud, its only logical that the next stop is a hot spring. After another rinse, you both settle into a private heated pool and enjoy each other’s company. Your bag held a bottle of champagne which you had the staff chill, and you were now making bottomless mimosas. A heated bath plus alcohol equals a nice buzz and a voracious appetite. After your soak, you take the lead and bring him to a delicious restaurant where you watch Kid devour meal after meal. You are always impressed with the bottomless pit he called a stomach.

“I’m not a child,” Kid scoffs once you come back to the ship. “Don’t need a nap.”

“You might not but I do! We had a busy day and I’m full from lunch. If you want to just cuddle that’s fine too.”

Ever the edgy punk he is, he turns red at the mention of cuddling and throws the clothes he took off directly at your face. He ends up cuddling anyway. And once your lulling breaths signaled your descent into sleep, he swiftly follows, holding your warm body snug to his.

Hours pass quickly and when Kid wakes up he’s pleased to see you curled up on his chest. He plays with your painted fingers until the sounds of hunger rumble from his stomach to his chest, waking you up.

“Finally! Been dying to eat but SOMEBODY was trapping me down.”

“M’mm soo sorry your majesty,” you grumble with side eye, getting up from the bed and beating him to the bathroom first.

If there’s one thing you know about the Kid Pirates aside from their…rabid violent tendencies…is that they know how throw a party and banquet. The deck is filled with dining tables displaying mouthwatering dishes, roasted meats, and tons of liquor.

Killer got the band together for live music and it warmed your heart to see how amiable Kid is when he truly let loose. Not that the crew never got to see that side of him, just that those moments were far and few between with how demanding finding the One Piece is. And trying to take down the powers of the world.

Choosing to focus on the present, you dance along with the crew as the music flows, drinking, and having fun. You find yourself in Kid’s lap as you eat and talk shit with the others, he keeps a close grip on you with the occasional affectionate squeeze. You manage to steal a glance at him and see he has the happiest smile on his face as he looks down at you. A lovely image that makes your heart flutter and return his smile. Not at all rolling your eyes as he gently grabs your chin and turns your face around.

When the night is over, Kid playfully throws you on the bed with a wide smirk on his face as he crawls over your body.

“Alright what’s my gift?”

“Under the bed.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, “Oh you mean an actual gift? That wasn’t an innuendo?”

“I bought you an actual gift that’s going to change your life.”

He snorts at that but then looks under the bed for his gift. Pulling out a gift bag, he sits down next to you and looks inside. A confused look on his face, he pulls out a sleek, gun-looking mechanism.

“You planning to shoot me or something?”

“In a sense.”

The bewildered look he gives you makes you laugh aloud.

“It’s a massage gun! There are different shaped pieces that you can interchange to fit the massage and area you want to target. Let me show you, take off your vest.”

He rolls his eyes but does as you say, “Doubt this teeny tiny toy can do anything of significance.”

The massage gun comes to life with a low buzzing hum. You attach one of the heads to the nozzle and brace yourself.

“C’mon get it over with already! I hate waiting for dissapo—OH MY GODS!!!”

By the time you’re through with him, he’s a drooling pile of putty laid out on your lap.

#eustass kid #swampstew bedtime stories #eustass kid fluff #eustass kid x you #one piece eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #one piece kid #eustass kid x y/n #op kid #swampstew #eustasscaptainkid #swampstew stories #kid pirates #reader insert #one piece reader insert #milestone event

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simiansmoke · 1 year

Text

Slow Burn- DKxMario - 🐒🔧

There were plenty of activities DK enjoyed publicly: racing, bench pressing coconut trees, doing that armpit fart thing around Dad, and kicking Mario's ass. As boisterously insufferable the Kong was at times, he occasionally needed some decompression. Mostly to recharge his insufferable battery points.

Having broken through a thick layer of jungle after he had traversed out of Kong city, DK squinted at the sun in the clearing as it greeted him on his way out of the dark cover of tropical foliage. The sight that awaited him made him grin, and after flattening himself low to the ground, he tore across the field of yellow, red, and orange petals all thrumming with their internal heat.

All of the fire-flowers he disturbed lost their flames like dandelion seeds and proceeded to float away, save for the wisps DK landed on when he stopped abruptly to fall over in a pile of the warm plants. Once the wave of their floating flames passed by, he was left sunken into the remaining stems and flameless petals with a fur coat colored more cherry-mahogany than chestnut, and the tips of his fur tinged snow white.

From up on a brick sky block that sat minding its own business defying gravity, Mario had also been at ease with winding down from a day of platforming practice with the princess. Imagine his surprise when he saw the lovely plot of fire-flowers spread almost as far as the eye could see from the aerial training ground in the tropics.

Hearing the commotion below of plants being demolished like a dog loose in a garden with a bone to bury, Mario rolled over on his sunbathing perch and lowered his sunglasses to observe the scene below. Just DK being unwittingly destructive as usual. Understandable.

Once the Kong had come to a stop to lay in the field, Mario couldn't help but snort at the sight of the big guy (big HEADED mostly) co-existing somewhat peacefully with petals of all things. "You ah...come here often?" The casual remark came with a casual wave.

DK had since closed his eyes to zone out for a bit and get comfy. Too bad he kept hearing something that sounded like an Italian menace. "Sheesh, I feel bad for whatever poor, stupid animal out there that has a voice like Mario's-"

"Hey, now. That'sa fuckin' rude. You know I'm up here, right?"

A sigh escaped DK as he painstakingly opened an eye to scan the sky for Mario's block. "Wish I didn't. I'm trying to chill, dude. And you're the last person that's gonna do that for me."

"...you're in a field of literal fire flowers, DK. I doubt there's any chill down there."

"No, no there's not. Because I have zero chill for you, and you're inconveniently here so - thanks for that."

Eyes rolling, Mario lifted a hand as if to figure out the weight of the simian's unspoken request. "...you want me to leave...?"

"Nah." Positioning his arms behind his head as a cushion, DK took to examining the various platform objects in the sky like a cloud-watcher might. "Stay up there where I don't have to see you."

The glove was the last thing DK would see of the menace for a while, and it was wrapped into a fist with the middle finger extended. A silent remark.

DK chuckled at the sight before settling in for his nap.

Once he had rested his eyes enough to not be in such a pissy mood, DK lurched up after discovering a trail of saliva hanging off his chin that was threatening a trembling fire-flower. With a stretch and a back arch and a shake, he looked up to see if there were any signs of Mario still being up there. "Hey, Mushroom Breath! You still up there?" When no response came, DK cracked his knuckles. "Huhuhu...guess you don't mind if I cheeeeck."

And with that, he fired several beams of fire towards the block above him, heating the bottom of it until it glowed red.

"Mmmhm...whatsa smellin' so good? Mama's cookin'..." Mario mumbled, still blissfully napping. That was until the block started cooking him a little. Once he noticed that unfortunate fact, he was still halfway asleep and twisting around to try and find a nice cold spot on his bed of choice. By the time he woke up, released an Italian-tinted yelp and rolled himself off the block, Mario saw the ground just moments before he hit it-...

...well, his hat hit it. Wide eyed, he spun slowly to observe the upside-down world he woke up to. Yeah, it definitely was not like that before he had nodded off.

"Gettin' too much sun up there, dude? You're lookin' cooked." DK grinned, holding Mario by the foot and dangling him over the ground from a catch well-made. "Wanna cool off? I know this place in town. Serves some decent banana beer." Mostly, he just wanted one himself. He also wouldn't have hated it if Mario came along and got into a barfight for him to watch, so...there was that.

"...suuure? Wait a minute, did you just-"

"Alrightlet'sgo!" He didn't give Mario enough time to put two and two together about the plumber's mysterious tumble.

It didn't take long to arrive at the tiki-style shack; DK didn't want the journey through the monster filled jungle to take long, so he opted to sling a still dazed Mario over his back so he could gallop with all his frontal strength. Doing so also made a fun game of trying to knock Mario off and threatening him with a "if you fall off, I'm not coming back to get you!"

"Whatsa this place?" Mario wondered, glad to have his feet back on the ground (well, wooden planks) after that still half-asleep rodeo. The shack had a sign attached to its reeds with the word Mangoes Go Home painted on it. The g was backwards though.

DK wasted no time in barging in past the beads hanging on strings in the doorway, but he emerged a second later with the aquamarine nodules resting on his shoulders and spilling around him, an inquisitive smile on his face. "You comin'?"

They found their way inside the dimly-lit shack. Ocean-colored lights lit the space and gave it an underwater feel. Now this was a place one could "chill".

Mario followed closely behind DK, not sure where they were headed until the Kong chose a seat at the bar on the far end. There was actually already a glass of piss colored foam on the table in front of DK. Must have been a regular...regular and royally treated.

"One more down here!" DK waved to the bartender, a Kong with too many tattoos of eels on his calves. When the glass slid down, Mario reached out with a fumble to stop it from smashing against the wall, but DK's large goalie of a hand made it come to a stop and he nudged it forward with a snort at his company's lack of finesse when it came to grabbing fresh pours.

"Careful now. You're still all out of sorts from all that sun exposure." DK teased, eagerly knocking back the drink in front of him. Banana beer was just that...wheaty and sweet, and the perfect ending to a day spent slouching any responsibilities.

Mario observed the Kong with a hint of distaste and curiosity, he turned his attention to the perspiring glass in his glove. It wasn't...an ugly tint? Well, the lighting around the bar helped out too. Made it seem like he was sipping the bluest of sea water. Foam soaked the plumber's mustache as he sighed. "...ok. I think I need to come here instead of the mushroom juice bar with Toad." Sorry, Toad. No hard feelings.

"Hah! They suckered you into going there? I'd feel sorry for you, but uh..." DK mused while dipping his tongue in and out of his drink, partaking slowly.

"Yeahyeah. You love when I'm suffering. Tell me something I don't already know."

"OK, well...you're a loser, for one thing..."

Twilight shifted to night time as the two mused back and forth, enjoying one cold banana beer after the other.

As the night progressed (as well as the pints), the stiff conversations between them more than 'just relaxed'. Let's just define 'relaxed' as melt into a pile of goo and then mix together in a incoherent manner. There's a word for that. It's "messy".

"Oh MAN." DK sniggered while swaying a little too far from his seat into Mario's, threatening to knock the pint-sized plumber off his perch mid-sip.

"Ah-aha, whatsa mattuh with you?" With a new fresh stain of banana beer on his collar from the sudden slam of his unusual drinking buddy's flank, Mario decided he had enough liquid courage to butt the simian back in his place even though the bar had mostly emptied and it wasn't like he couldn't have just moved over to the empty seat beside him.

"No like...for REAL." There were words to this admission, but DK seemed to love taking his time finding them at the pace of a snail. At "real", he slammed his hand down on the stretch of table between them and almost caused the stain on Mario's collar to become a drenched shirt. "REAL-LY, REAL-LY, REAL talk, bro." Ignoring how the plumber busied himself with positioning his glass away from the table antics, DK leaned in with a brightness to his gaze that beguiled his current intent to make a mess. "You. Piss me off...SO BAD." Without a hint of venom thanks to the flavor of wheat and banana hops, DK's words linger briefly before he leans over to dip his tongue into Mario's drink.

"Hey-hey-hey!" Once the pink appendage penetrated the fresh beer foam, Mario jerked slightly and half-heartedly swatted the behemoth back with his gloves meeting Kong snout. "That'sa MY foam." With a slurred grumble, Mario slides his companion the side-eye around his flushed cheeks. Beer sweats and a tropical climate...what a combination. "If you don'ta cut that out, I'll remember when you'ah thirsty and send you to dip that into the latrine."

"Aww, you're no ffffun." DK laughed, elbowing Mario's shoulder...or at least what he thought was his shoulder because Kong were a lot taller than Mario was. Instead the shoulder struck the plumber's hat and knocked it off somewhere. "Oh man, though...my FACE."

"Yeaha we know. It'sa ugly." There's foam in his mustache after he finishes a swig. The banana beer... it's pretty good like DK said.

"-nooo...Prick." The Kong cackles, finding some humor in the burn despite also wanting to slap Mario off his chair at the same time, DK spins slightly in his and reaches up to press his knuckles against his own cheek. "My face is so HOT. Yes, literally and figuratively."

Mario glanced over to inspect the Kong's cheeks as they circled by. Indeed, they were fairly red. Almost as red as his get-up. "...congratulations?"

"For REAL..." DK stopped suddenly mid-spin to lean in uncomfortably close to the plumber's face and tilt his head to bare his cheek. "Feel."

"Uhm." With a hair of curiosity buried somewhere in his mustache, Mario entertained his company by placing a hand on the soft peach fuzz that made up the lawn of DK's cheek.

"Huhuhu, you're so stupid, dude." Fingers curled around the plumber's wrist, guiding it up to both their gazes. "You're wearing gloves, idiot." Apparently that was the funniest thing since K. Rool got hit by a go kart, because the Kong has to catch his breath between snorts. "Here." Trying again, DK squeezes the wrist he'd seized and leans in again to press the heat of his face against Mario's. Cheek to cheek, he butts his head forward to roll around and singe all sides of his company's face.

"DK--ah!" With the Kong's softer portion of face fussing over his, Mario wondered if the heat being shared with him had gotten a little warmer than when it had arrived.

"Oh yeah, if you think that's hot..." He grinned crookedly, scratching the hair of his eyebrow against Mario's for a moment. "I had the fireflower salad and now I can't feel my mouth." As if to demenstrate the fact, DK rolls his face forward again to maybe singe Mario on the nose with his lips. Instead, they lock with his bar buddy's mouth and smolder for a quiet moment.

Blue eyes widened and Mario reached up to slap a gloved hand onto the side of the Kong's other cheek to try and shove some space between those actually very spicy lips and his. "Bu-..urns!"

That was all DK need to start playing a game of keeping his jalapeno seed flavored lips in the vicinity of Mario's. The fight began.

With a powerful dash and shove, Mario had slammed the Kong back off of their seating and into a nearby wall decorated with banana peels (courtesy of the Kong owned establishment). "Mm-mmh!" He protested, fingers curling into the wrists of his opponent that also grappled him.

In turn, DK shoved back with a lot more momentum, keeping their lips raging together, he slammed Mario up onto the bar, knocking several bottles of jungle flower liquor helter skelter and smashed to pieces on the floor. Feeling the wet hair of Mario's beer drenched mustache, DK lazily licks to claim his share and doesn't mind when his tongue breeches the Italian-laced parting between Mario's lips, sliding along his front teeth once.

At this point the Kong's lips had begun to cool, but it didn't quite stop Mario from slashing at DK's cheeks as he had with his cat claws. Declawed, his batts went unnoticed as DK broke briefly for air and hovered over his rival's face, a small section of spittle nested in the corner of his mouth like the mirror image of one of his exposed canines. "Hah...had enough?"

It was the smug, half-inebriated taunt that convinced Mario it was much better to deny DK the satisfaction of defeating him in some way. Though defeat might have been a wiser option, given the random assortment of ethanol seeping into his shirt and DK still rocking the cherry-mahogany coat of a fire Kong. "-aha...you callin' that a'spicy?" Maybe the drinks Mario had already partaken in were a balm against insufferability, because he settled in the vapors rising around him in favor of grabbing hold of the red tie dangling above him. Spilled liquor perfumed the humid air with hints of coconut flower and deep grove vine nectar. Heady, Mario yanked the big lug's head closer and patronizingly patted his cheek. "...like a bell pepper." And as if to prove his assessment of the heat spectrum, he presented the Kong's mouth with a petty peck.

The glint of 'oh yea?' was still distinguishable in DK's half glassy gaze, but he was sure that point came across wordlessly anyway when he stubbornly rocked back into the princess-peck with the power and the gaul of an ocean wave eager to dunk a show-off in front of his girl.

Bell pepper, huh? Clearly hadn't given him the full taste of fire Kong. When he felt his tie tug him further forward, DK found little elsewhere to go. Even shoving one of Mario's legs hanging off the bar so that he could settle in with his midriff against the counter-top didn't seem like the distance demanded by the tightening noose. When he thought he might have found more room, his tongue grazed teeth again. So, he did what only a smash monkey could do and with a great hand twisted into the front of his company's shirt, quickly lifted Mario about maybe an inch or two off the table before slamming him back down.

"Pah!?" The protest is met the same thievous tongue that had stolen Mario's beer foam.

Sure that he would impart some real heat to Mario's poor tastebuds, DK enjoyed torturing the warm pocket. His larger canines clacked against Mario's with each roll of his head. A swarm of jungle hornets buzzed around in his chest and grew more and more agitated when Mario found some hair on his head to curl his fingers around and show off a grip strength that could end in a bald spot with any sudden moves.

A sound from within the pinned plumber vibrates along and passes into DK's lips. It's the soft vibration that convinced DK the spice on his lips had finally worn off, and with that realization, he retracted his tongue, but not after answering the unintelligible sound with one of his own to the back of Mario's throat.

A few deep breaths seemed to bring the Kong back to a slightly sobering setting. "I-...uh." Now faced with a newly reddened one that might need another cooling off battle, DK only stumbled back when Mario reached out to lay his glove flat against the simian's pulse. "J-just..." Noting the ravaged scene of broken bottles and overturned chairs, DK glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was actually around before he galloped for the door. "Tell them it's on my tab! All the fucked up shit too!"

Sitting up slowly, Mario watched as DK clambered out into the night, his lips pulsing with the spice of whatever spicy ass food the Kong had used as lip balm. "Mama mia."

#PG - 13 #//ur welcome degenerates #//i wrote my veryfirst fanfic and its marioxdk yIKES #mariokong #donkey kong #mario #monkey wrench #kongario #super marios bros #super mario bros movie #super mario movie #mario movie #mario x dk #dk x mario

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