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desastre-gay · 1 year

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I guess I just lost my husband (I don't know where he went) Chapter 1: I got a a brand new attitude

Amongst the panic as the English board the revenge one crew member remains placid, mostly due to their all encompassing fear, hands raised as they are guided to kneel with the rest of the crew. All are panicky within their own right, however the meekest member is called forward first to be interrogated, guns pressed against their trembling skin to guide them into the captain’s cabin.

With one last glance at their captain lovers, who stare back at them with love and concern of their own, they are pushed harshly into the room, forced down by their shoulders into an armchair in front of a desk.

An Englishman stands in front of them, hands resting on the desk - shoulder width apart - in an act of intimidation, brow furrowed at the trembling mess sitting in front of him, curled into themselves.

“What’s your role on this ship? You’re certainly not a pirate.” The bald headed man sneers, getting even closer to their face, which pales considerably before they manage to answer.

“I’m only the cabin boy, sir.” The man’s face relaxes at this, a look of thought coming over him for a fleeting moment before the interrogation continues.

A few more questions pass before they are allowed to leave - well, before they are escorted back out onto the deck, guided to sit between Lucius and black Pete.

“What happened in there?” Lucius is the one to ask, arms held tightly around his midriff in what seems to be a nervous gesture.

“They basically interrogated me, asked about Stede a lot.” They answer, anxiously looking for said captain but unable to spot him.

“Where is he, by the way?” Lucius fidgets and looks down at the decking, black Pete piping up before he can sugar coat anything.

“I’m pretty sure they took him away for his own interrogation, he is sooo fucked.”

“Not helping, babe.”

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There’s no trial, Stede signed a confession and that was good enough for the English army, good enough for them to sentence him to death by firing squad. The only slightly good news is that Edward has been spared, handed over to Izzy per his request. The cabin boy doesn’t know what or how to feel, of course they are devastated for Stede, yet relieved for Edward.

They stand next to Ed, cursing Izzy Hands and everything he has done under their breath, absolutely delighted when they witness Edward surge forward to punch said man - sending him to the deck. However, once they notice the dangerous glint in his eyes they pull him backwards, hands grasping his arm in desperation as the English raise their rifles.

In a flash, he pulls them with him to stand protectively in front of Stede, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Act of Grace!” Soon he has the entire crew shouting it with him, Stede following as the cabin boy reaches up to pull off his blindfold, smiling gently at him.

The conversation becomes background noise to them as they indulge, swimming in his eyes as they gently cradle his face, tears lining their lower eyelashes. They snap back to the dire situation at hand when the rifles are raised once again, promptly taking a protective stance in front of the blond man, Ed moving back to do the same.

Just when Stede begs for them to re-apply the blindfold, Lucius stands and swiftly begins reading out a log entry from the crew’s very first robbery, Olu presenting the plant as evidence. It’s enough, and the admiral is forced to stand down as he becomes agitated.

Edward, Stede, the cabin boy and a handful of English guards re-enter the captain’s cabin to go over the act of grace agreement, the cabin boy only following to discover what their lovers had agreed to.

One soldier explains it simply, also adding the clause that for the agreement to apply to Stede, Ed also had to sign. Izzy makes a comment, ignored by everyone as the salt and pepper haired man signs with an X. The three lovers are left alone for a moment, Stede requesting the privacy, causing Izzy to curse as he walks out of the cabin.

It’s quiet for a moment before the cabin boy speaks up, “So, you have to serve the King for ten years?” The words are framed as a question, although it’s really just a statement. “Can I come with you?” This question however is asked with a sense of urgency, causing both Ed and Stede’s faces to fall.

“I really wish you could, dearest, but army service is no place for you.” The blond haired pirate captain reaches for them, holding their face as they did for him mere moments ago.

“I don’t think I can live ten years without you.” Tears begin lining their eyes once again, allowed to fall only to be brushed away by Ed’s thumb, who uses his thumb to turn them towards him.

“We’ll find a way out soon, love, promise. We’ll be back before you even know it.” And if a tear falls from his own eye no one mentions it, as he presses a firm kiss to their forehead, Stede taking the time to do the same before they are taken aboard the English ship.

Both parties stand at the edge of the ships after tearful goodbyes, maintaining eye contact until they can no longer, only able to spot distant black dots.

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It’s been a hard few days, Izzy taking over as captain clearly having a negative impact on the crew’s morale. It was only a matter of time before words of mutiny began spreading throughout the crew.

The crew of the revenge sway back and forth, gaining momentum with the shared weight of Izzy Hands between them, at the edge of the ship. Just on the final swing, someone calls for them to stop, causing them to turn and stare in awe at Edward Teach (born on a beach). One member of the crew in particular startles, dropping Izzy in the process, before gathering themselves and dashing to their lover.

“Ed!” He catches them, lifting them up in a crushing hug before pulling them into a searing kiss, pouring every emotion since they departed into it.

“Oh, I missed you, love.” Placing them back onto the firm deck, he holds them by the shoulders, staring at them as if they would disappear if he blinked. The two lovers smile softly at each other, recommitting one another into their memories before the moment is interrupted.

“Where’s Stede?” It’s an innocent question, one that they should rightfully ask about their second lover, but it’s the hopeful look on their grinning face that kills Ed on the inside. His face falls, smile shrinking as he turns back to the frozen crew.

“Izzy, we’ll take tea in my room.” With that the cabin boy is whisked away to the captain’s cabin, building a pillow fort with the fearsome pirate legend at his request. As they both lay there, cabin boy resting upon Ed’s chest in the dim candlelight, they ask about their second lover’s whereabouts once more.

“He didn’t want to come back.” He breaks, tears freely falling down his cheeks as he presses his lips to their temple. “I waited for him, but he never came.” The cabin boy’s face is crestfallen, brow furrowing in thought and despair before lifting their chin to gaze at Edward.

“He just left you?” And if that alone doesn’t crush Ed’s heart, the way their voice cracks halfway through pummels it into dust. He brings a trembling hand up to swipe their hair out of their face, smoothing it down as he presses a firm kiss to their temple.

“He left us . I waited from dusk to dawn for that man, with no sign of him. After the sun began to rise I had to leave, otherwise the English would’ve caught me.” They lay together for a while, Izzy eventually bringing the tea that was asked for, placing it just inside of the fort to avoid entering it himself.

Edward sends for Lucius, asking for the scribe to write his song lyrics down. The cabin boy tiredly contributes, adding the occasional word or phrase of their own. Lucius, taking his role as unofficial therapist seriously, offers advice and his own words of comfort to the despairing lovers - highlighting the fact that the both of them still have one another.

One moment later, Ed is performing his lyrics for the crew, soul pouring out for them all to see with the cabin boy sitting next to him. The words are met with thunderous applause, plenty of compliments passing around - the word ‘visceral’ being said far too many times.

Feeling their adrenaline dissipate, the cabin boy bids farewell to the salt and pepper haired man as they slip away back to the captain’s cabin in order to get some rest - sleeping without their lovers caused some difficulty. They instantly fall to a deep sleep once they settle into the bed beside the window, soft snores echoing off of the wooden walls.

They are soon awoken, the sound of voices rousing them as they turn from facing the window to face the two men. Izzy stands at a distance from Edward, seething as he holds a book from Stede’s library.

“I should’ve let the English kill you. This, whatever it is that you’ve become, it’s a fate worse than death.” He grits out, not noticing they have awoken, freely speaking his mind.

“Well, I am still Blackbeard so-” Ed is cut off as the shorter man rips a page out of the book, scrunching it as he shoves it into the captain’s face.

“No. This… This is Blackbeard. Not some namby-pamby in a silk gown, pining for his boyfriend.” In an instant, Ed has him by the throat, face coated in anger as he pins him to the bookcase. The shorter man steals a glance at the bed, noting the awake state of the cabin boy - laying still with a look of panic and fear.

“Choose your next words wisely, dog.” The glare set upon him would make any other man keel over, perhaps piss themself, but Izzy merely steels his panic and lifts one hand up to cup Blackbeard’s neck.

“There he is.” He is swiftly pushed away, Ed releasing him and backing away in the same motion, Izzy smirking to himself before continuing with a hoarse voice.

“Blackbeard is my captain. I serve Blackbeard. Not Edward. Edward better watch his fuckin’ step.” With each word he leans closer into the man, teeth grit and eyes set into an icy glare of his own. He waits a few seconds before moving away, leaving the cabin in a huff with his shoulders squared.

“Dear, are you alright?” Edward’s trance is broken by the cabin boy’s voice, laced with sleep yet still concerned for him.

“I’m fine. Scoot over, love.” They do as he says, shifting closer to the window and lifting the blanket to invite him in. Once laying in the bed, he pulls them down to lie on his chest, arms wrapping around their waist, staring out through the window with an indiscernible look in his eyes.

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In the dead of the night he slips out of the cabin unnoticed, leaving his lover to sleep the night away til dawn, and stands at the railing of the ship gazing out at the sea. Lucius soon joins him, making his presence known by the creaking of the door opening and closing behind him.

“Oh there you are, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.” A relieved smile grows on his face whilst Ed’s face only hardens, glare coming back to life with the new company.

Only the waves know where he is now.

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It’s well into the morning when the cabin boy awakes, beams of sunlight blinding them momentarily before they raise their arm to block the rays. As they adjust to their surroundings they stand, arms reaching up to stretch out their back before falling back down to scratch at their lower stomach.

Then they notice the bare shelves around them, no trace of the books or various trinkets which once decorated the space. Confusion strikes as they make their way out of the cabin, stepping into the harsh sun and stumbling upon first mate Hands.

The man’s usual scowl is gone, replaced with a self satisfied smirk, at least until he registers their presence in front of him.

“Was no one keeping fuckin’ watch? Useless fucking twats, back into the captain’s cabin with you.” Shooing them away, he turns in an unusually nervous nature, searching for the elusive Blackbeard.

“What? I only want to see the crew-” They’re unable to get another word out before the short man grasps their shoulders, turning them swiftly and guiding them back to the door they just closed behind them.

It’s only when he turns to leave that the cabin boy notices a significant limp, trailing their gaze down to his foot to find stark red seeping through some bandages sticking out of the top of his boot. They go to call out to him, stopping themselves at the slam of the cabin door, the faint click of a lock following.

Left to their own devices, with no books to read or trinkets to mess with, they simply sit upon an armchair - trying at least ten different positions before finding a comfortable one. Time passes slowly, and eventually they grow bored of their spiralling thoughts. What was happening? Why were they locked in the cabin? Why couldn’t they spot any crew members on deck? Where’s Ed?

Their saviour from their own questions comes in the form of a leather clad Blackbeard, face set in stone and painted in dark charcoal around his eyes and mouth. Seeing his partner waiting for him makes his eyes soften for a moment, hardening once he sees them wearing the shirt Stede had let them ‘borrow’.

They feel the urge to stand and greet the man, moving their legs from the crossed position they were in to stand, only to be stopped as he comes closer. Placing a hand upon their chest, he guides them to be sitting once again, lifting the same hand to cup their nape. He fiddles with the stray hairs there.

“I know where I went wrong with Stede now.” The first words spoken between the two only confuse the cabin boy further, more questions popping up with none being answered. Their brow furrows, only to be smoothed out by Ed’s thumb as he uses his other hand to cradle the side of their face.

“What do you mean, Ed?” He chuckles, low and dark, at the question. Using both hands, he reaches to hold them by the chin, forcing them to maintain eye contact.

“I should never have given him the chance to say no, to leave me - leave us .” His grip tightens, and they panic for a moment before relaxing into the touch, more to comfort Edward than themselves.

“I’ve learnt my lesson, I won’t make the same mistake twice.” Determination flares in his dark eyes, staring intently at his remaining partner, a fierce possessiveness and protectiveness growing within him.

“These are your living quarters now. You’re not a cabin boy anymore either, your only job is to stay in here, where I can keep you safe.” Where I know you can’t leave me. He doesn’t allow time for any of the information to sink in, willing himself to sit behind the desk as Fang comes into the room and closes the curtains.

“Oh, and love, it’s Blackbeard in front of the crew. Not Ed.” The cabin boy can only stare at their lover in shock and confusion, none of the words processing completely with his abrupt change of character.

There’s no time left to question anything as Jim is brought into the room, made to stand in front of the desk. They take a quick glance to the cabin boy, sitting near the other side of the room, with a disorientated look on their downturned face.

So deep within their own racing thoughts, they fail to comprehend the conversation between the pirate captain and Jim, snapping out of it at the dull thunk of Jim’s body hitting the floor. In a flash they’re across the room, kneeling at Jim’s side and pressing their fingers to their neck. The steady pulse is a relief, causing them to sit back on their haunches with a soft sigh. In the next breath they’re looking at Blackbeard.

“What was that for?!” They don’t receive a response, only Edward calling out a sharp, “Next!” Frenchie shuffles in, seeming to be in high spirits which instantly deflate at the room’s atmosphere. He stares down at Jim and the cabin boy, Jim unconscious and the cabin boy kneeling at their side.

“Hey, Iz said you wanted to… see me.” The cabin boy is delighted to see him unharmed, being one of their closer friends from the crew, and if it weren’t for Jim laying across their lap they would leap across the small space to embrace the man.

“Yes… I heard you can sew.” The gun which he had been idly polishing is raised now, pointed directly at Frenchie, who raises his arms in turn.

“Yep. Sew like the wind.” A nervous chuckle escapes him as he glances between the two threatening men, keeping both Jim and the cabin boy in the corner of his eye, even as loud cackling starts from the two men.

“Get him to work, Fang.” With the dismissal, both Fang and Frenchie leave the same way they came, Frenchie casting one last concerned glance to the two people on the floor. With a slam the door closes behind them and the cabin boy gently lifts Jim from their lap to stand, moving to the front of the desk.

“What the fuck was that about? Where’s the rest of the crew? Why did you do that to Jim? Answer me!” Edward’s gaze flickers from his gun up to his partner, eyes distant and cold as he assesses them. Rather than answering he stands from the chair, coming around to the front of the desk and grasps them by the shoulder.

Pushing open the door to the cabin, he pulls them along to the railing along the side of the ship. At first they don’t know what they’re supposed to be looking at, but then they see it - the crew of the revenge, marooned on a small island.

Dread fills them as the crew frantically wave, hoping to be saved by the ones that purposefully left them there. An even colder feeling drops into their stomach when they are unable to spot one member in particular.

“Where’s Lucius?” A hand resting on their nape is all the answer they need, as it directs their field of view to the crashing waves of the sea. Bile fills their throat, tears bubbling up and breath hitching at the implication.

“Everything’s going as planned, captain.” Of course it’s Izzy Hands who interrupts, standing just behind his captain with his arms folded behind his back. “Jim is secure in the brig and Frenchie has finished the flag.”

“The brig? Why are they in the brig?” At the question Edward tightens his grasp on their nape whilst Izzy remains silent.

“Take them back to my cabin, Iz.” With the command to his first mate he walks away, leaving the cabin boy with the easily angered man. He sneers down at them, grabbing them by the wrist and pushing them in front of him, taking a familiar route back to the captain’s cabin.

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 years

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Our Future

Frenchie Masterlist

Summary: After a mission ended really badly, Frenchie realized the more he kept his feelings for you a secret, the more time he lost. And with that fucked up, bloody life, there’s no time to lose.

Word count: 1751

Requested by: @cactuwus

Pairing: Male!Reader x Frenchie

Warning: mention of exploding person, blood, washing blood away, anger, swearing, Frenchie being super sweet

A/n: Tumblr ate my draft, so I’m glad I wrote this on Drive instead lol! Sorry for any mistakes, this wasn’t proofreaded!

Feedbacks are always appreciated!!

Frenchie loved you.

He loved everything about you.

It didn’t matter if you had the most twisted up, fucked up past and that you would probably never be ready to talk about it. But if, in any case, you would want to talk, he would be there to listen. He would listen without judgment, because he would understand.

Frenchie was in love with you.

With your present and the future he could have with you. That perfect, normal life he could have if his past didn’t fuck him up in the head so much. If he wasn’t in a quest to kill super heros, with a bunch of abrutis sanguinaires that only thought about blood and revenge.

What he could have with you… He dreamed about it every night. If the days were violent and bloody, his nights were filled with the smell of grass that just got cut on a sunny afternoon. A cold beer waiting for the man that just mowed the law. An apple pie baking in the oven. Soft kisses. How the light would enter the kitchen, reflecting on his stupid collection of glass animals that were displayed on the table. How he would welcome you in the house with only kindness, love and…

The nights always ended the same. Frenchie woke up. And he woke up alone and cold in a makeshift, uncomfortable bed… Alone.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Because even if he wasn’t with The Boys, with you in the gang… He was still fucked up. His own past was fucked up. His whole personality was a mess. He was a mess.

The dream, the future he dreamed of with you was impossible. How could you want him? A man that was so fucked up? With a past filled with fucked up things? With drugs, death, guns and blood? You would never want his past or a future with him.

It was the reason he took the present as a gift. Everyday. Satisfied with the time spent with you.

Frenchie was okay with that. He wouldn’t make your life worse by being more present, and he wouldn’t mess up your future like he messed up everything in the past. The present moment was enough.

Until it wasn’t. Until it went wrong. Until that mission Butcher had assigned to him and you.

Until you could have died again.

Until he saw that person explode right in front of him, and until he pictured you getting killed.

Until Frenchie realized… Present had a limit, it had an expiration date. Fuck the past. Fuck the world. Fuck The Boys and fuck the Supes. Fuck it if you didn’t love him back. He would tell you.

“Mon ami, s'il te plait."

The blood was covering every inch of your body. Skin red and sticky, clothes stuck to the limbs, hair disgusting, the smell was so bad, all you wanted to do was go to the bathroom and take an endless shower and look at the water turning red until it turned transparent again. Until it washed away that other sin.

The mission was simple, and yet, someone ended up exploding, limbs, head, body, everything, right on you. That person was a witness that was supposed to give you and Frenchie important information to catch a Supe, or at least, make his life a living hell.

But it went wrong. Because everything always goes wrong.

“Shut the fuck up Frenchie! I don’t want to hear it, hear you “je te l’avais dit”!” You exploded the moment Frenchie tried to talk to you. It wasn’t the time. Anger was boiling inside of you, strong, impossible to calm down. You had it. The proof. The person that would help you get down another fucking supe.

“Y/n, please,” Frenchie insisted, and you felt his hand grab your wrist. His grip was soft, you could have easily slipped out without any problem, but something inside of you wanted to keep that touch on you. Somehow it calmed you down ever so slightly, enough to keep your ideas in place and not lose your fucking mind. “Please, just… You can go shower first, then we can talk about it, okay?”

“And for what,” you muttered, your teeth grinding together as you clenched your jaw too hard. Turning your head towards him, you met his gaze. Brown eyes were staring back at yours, messy brows furrowed in concern and in sadness. “Stop fucking looking at me with those fucking eyes,” you ended up taking your hand back rather roughly, only to see his eyes get even sadder.

Before he could answer, you were gone in the shower.

The place you were staying in had a limited amount of hot water, but you didn’t care if you took it all. Frenchie could wash himself in the sink, for all you cared…

That was the problem. Another thing that made you so fucking angry.

You cared about him, that frenchman that kept pissing you off with his kindness. You knew he wanted to do good, make you feel better… And his fucking sad puppy eyes made you feel bad when it didn’t work. His voice, his words, they triggered something inside of you, memories of a past that wasn’t always gory and violent. Memories you treasured, and to never lose them, you buried them. Just like a treasure. After years, you forgot about them, until you met The Boys. Until you met him.

You loved Frenchie.

You didn’t care about his fucked up past. It was fine if he never talked about it, like, ever. Or if he only felt comfortable talking about it to Kimiko. You knew those two were closed, she was even teaching him her language. They understood each other, and you were sure talking about his pain helped him somehow.

Did you wish it was you? Yeah. Of course.

But that was selfish.

His every being made you want a future. A normal life. A too green lawn, white fences, a black door. White house with dark green roof and matching window pane. A boring neighborhood where nothing ever happens.

A deck with long chairs, maybe even a pool.

Just a normal, fucking loving house with the man you loved.

You so don’t care if he was a boy. Being gay wasn’t something you were hiding after all, even though you never talked about it.

You were in love with him. Simply. In all the chaos and the violence, you fell in love with him.

When you left the shower, the water had run cold for a long while, and you did feel bad for leaving none to Frenchie. Cause you cared. You cared, and thinking about seeing him again once you would be out of the shower calmed you down. Once dressed, you exited the bathroom, only to find him indeed washing himself in the sink. He was done with his hair, still dripping on his naked torso, and turned his head when he heard you walk in.

“Y/n, I need to tell you something,” he said. Anger and annoyance build up inside of you again when his voice woke up those stupid buterflies in your stomach. Hope. Like somehow, just being with him would make everything better.

“What’s up,” you muttered, detaching your eyes from his now clean and still wet, perfect torso. You couldn’t keep staring, he would notice.

“Je t’aime.”

Lifting your head, you looked at him. Right in the eyes. Sadness wasn’t occupying the most part anymore, now, there was something else bathing in his irises.

You didn’t know much French. And to be honest, him switching all the time could give you lots of headaches and it was so annoying. But there was no denying what he just said, even if it was in a language you didn’t know much. With just his gaze, you understood.

Frenchie stepped closer to you, his mouth parting, probably ready to repeat what he just said but in English, but you didn’t let him. Because you didn’t need it. There had been enough time losing, enough death, enough blood shed. Losing a second more talking about it or fighting or trying to understand would only be lost time. And you refused to have any more seconds lost.

So, when he confessed his feelings, when you heard the words, the only thing you could do was answer, but not with words. Pressing your mouth to those plump lips you dreamed of kissing since you met him, you reciprocated his feelings.

No words were needed, you weren’t much of a talker anyway. Really hated the whole chick flick talks people usually have in those circumstances. I love you. I love you too. Bla bla.

Frenchie didn’t waste a single second and kissed back, his hands already on your cheeks. His body pressed to yours and you tried to be impossibly closer to him, holding him like your life depended on it. And it did, you depended on him, you always did. As he was the reason you woke up in the mornings, the only motivation you had to get on with your day. The sanity you needed.

“I take that as a “I know what je t’aime means”?” Frenchie smiled softly as he pressed his forehead to yours, breaking the kiss to breathe. His soft, warm breath tickled your skin. Both your chests were heaving, breathing fast because of the kiss and the moment.

“I had no idea what it meant,” you answered, closing your eyes. Just taking the moment in, bathing in the present. That present that you could now really see as a future. And it didn’t matter if the grass wasn’t green. If the fences weren’t white. If the neighborhood wasn’t boring. As long as it was with him, wherever you would go… It would be your future. “I just knew.”

You didn’t see it since your eyes were still closed, but you knew the Frenchman enough to picture it in your head. The smile that stretched even wider at what you just said, happiness warming up his face with all of his feelings. Frenchie was someone that was very strong with his emotions. It would be warm or cold or burning, he let them out. You were the opposite, keeping them all inside. Hated talking about feelings, even less showing them.

But he knew that, he didn’t need to hear the words to know.

He loved you just as you were. His present, his future.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @b3autyfuldisast3r @eevvvaa @fictional-affairs @wickedinspirations @awkward-and-indecisive

The Dudes taglist: @cactuwus

#frenchie #the boys frenchie #frenchie x you #frenchie x reader #the boys #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfiction frenchie #the boys frenchie x reader #the boys frenchie x reader oneshot #male!reader #the boys frenchie fanfic #the boys frenchie x male!reader #the boys male!reader #love confession

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onionsaremeansstuff · 2 years

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What if I write something for soldier boy? 🧐

#soldier boy x male reader #maybe?#male reader #x male reader #he's an asshole?#yes #but he is hot!#maybe frenchie or other characters too but who knows?#i'm alive btw

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littleoddwriter · 2 years

Note

Hi! I was the one who asked about Frenchie :) You obviously don’t have to write this if you’re struggling with it! Just tell me, it’s totally okay!

Male!reader is a part of Blackbeard’s crew and very chaotic. Likes to blow shit up and stuff, just like Frenchie :3. During the weeks where the crews share the Revenge they grow really close in this stupid, silly little way where they wreak havoc together. Frenchie teaches reader how to sing and play and reader teaches him how to dance or something. Maybe they share a little smooch under the moonlight while waltzing 🥹.

And when Blackbeard strands the crew on the island but keeps Frenchie and Jim, he threatens the reader’s life because of their little bond. Either the reader has to kill Frenchie or abandon ship so he abandons ship, naturally. Gives him a goodbye kiss and whispers goodbye. Didn’t mean to make this so angsty I apologize hahaa 😅. This is quite long so I’d be okay with you only writing a part of this, if that makes it easier!

Love your writing MWAH :3

For You | Frenchie x Male!Reader

Aaahhh, hello there! I'm so sorry this took me so long to write. Things have been,,, Not Good and so busy, ugh. Anyway! I hope you like what I've done with your request. I changed a few tiny things (or just one, now-), sorry. Loved it, though! So no worries about it getting angsty or long, it's more than fine. :') Thank you for everything!!! Mwah! <3 <3 <3

summary; See above.

notes; Male!Reader; Angst with an Open Ending; Falling in Love; Getting Together; Being Forced to Leave.

When you all boarded the Revenge, you certainly hadn’t expected to find yourself completely enamoured with one of her members, Frenchie. He was tall, handsome, weirdly funny, charming, incredibly kind and forthcoming, and generally a really wonderful guy to be around. Oh, you never stood a chance.

You were so far gone when he pulled out his lute and played a song, singing along to a melody he seemed to be making up on the spot. All you could do was watch him in awe.

Frenchie was pretty much the opposite of you and yet you felt yourself so drawn to him. After all, you were one who caused a lot of trouble and lived for the chaos that usually ensued. He wasn’t like that. Or so you thought. You heard that he helped Captain Bonnet turn all those rich fucks against each other and accidentally burn down their ship. That was exactly the kind of shit you loved to get yourself into and you were in dismay over missing it.

Knowing this, though, you took your chance and blew up some useless stuff with Frenchie one day. You were both having fun and were able to relax, then. You only had eyes for him during that time. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he didn’t even notice your gaze on him. He was sometimes oblivious like that, you found.

Shortly after that, Frenchie asked you if he could teach you how to sing, play and/or dance. He seemed incredibly eager to do it and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend more time with him and get closer to him. So, of course you agreed. Although you really weren’t the biggest fan of these things yourself. It looked like he effectively brought out your softer side.

On one day, you two spent your time singing and playing his lute; although he did most of it. After a while, you let loose and enjoyed yourself while joining in. When he showed you how to play the lute, though, you could barely control the way your fingers started shaking. His hands were on yours, guiding them to find the right notes, and he spoke ever so softly to you to give you instructions. It was beyond you how you didn’t end up kissing him right then and there, but somehow you held onto every last bit of self-control you had not to do it.

But then he showed you how to dance under the soft moonlight, while everyone else was asleep because you didn’t want them to see you like this and Frenchie respected that. You truly never stood a chance against his charms.

Laughing quietly together, you finally got the hang of how to waltz. He praised you softly and shot you such a big smile that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You just needed to kiss those beautiful lips. And so you did. You leaned in to close the last couple of inches of distance between you and captured his lips in a chaste kiss.

Frenchie kissed you back. He pushed against you and kissed you. It felt more passionate, but soft and uncertain. A weird mix, but so Frenchie that it made you laugh into it.

“I’m glad we’re apparently on the same page,” you whispered, pecking his lips once more.

He simply nodded with a dopey smile on his face, “Me, too.”

______

Weeks later, everything has gone to shit from one day to the other it seemed. Edward and Stede demanded the Act of Grace and left, only for Ed to come back by himself, acting strange. You had no idea what had happened at first, until you figured that something must have been going on with Stede. Did they have a fight? Did they break up? Had they even been together in the first place? You didn’t know anything for sure, you simply knew that, yes, it was definitely Stede’s fault that Edward was so off.

You also didn’t know what to expect from Edward. Apparently Blackbeard was back and he was worse than ever. You could understand him to some extent. If you were to lose Frenchie in any way, you’d also wreak havoc on the world and make everyone else pay for it. Still, Blackbeard was far more terrifying than your own fantasy of what you would have been capable of in his situation.

That became abundantly clear when he called you into his study room, where Frenchie was already waiting. He didn’t look amused in the slightest.

“Captain?” you inquired, standing close to Frenchie, but not quite touching him yet; although everything in your body screamed for you to intertwine your hands at the very least.

“I thought I was gonna keep Frenchie, y’know?” Blackbeard murmured, looking at you darkly, “But I don’t like the little thing you two have going on. So. Either you kill him right now to save your place in my crew, or you abandon ship.”

Inhaling sharply, you could barely believe what you were hearing.

“Y/N,” Frenchie gasped, looking at you with frantic eyes.

“I’ll leave,” you stated, averting your gaze from your love to direct it at Ed, hardening your eyes and setting your jaw. “Will you promise me not to hurt him if I do?”

“You have my word,” Blackbeard told you, sneering at you.

Nodding curtly, you knew not to test him now, or else you and Frenchie would both be dead men.

“I had a really great time with you. Thank you for everything,” you whispered to Frenchie, giving him a quick kiss as you shortly took his hand into yours and squeezed it, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he whispered back, looking so distraught. You wanted to assure him that this wasn't the end. But the truth was that you didn't know that. How could you?

With that, you left the room, readied a boat for yourself and left as quickly as you possibly could to ensure Frenchie’s safety.

All alone on that boat, you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. Sobbing and sniffling, you looked at the way the ship became smaller and smaller, until it was gone from your view entirely.

You only hoped you would see Frenchie again someday.

#hope this wasn't all handled too quickly i just started writing and didn't stop and this was the way it flowed lol #male reader #frenchie our flag means death #frenchie ofmd #frenchie x reader #joel fry #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #ofmd fic

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aurorawritestoescape · 4 months

Text

THE BURGLARY

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller

Summary: two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

TW: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NON-CON. Smut. Violence, suffocation, knife/gun play, penetration with a gun, mfm, bondage, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), a depraved game, butt and pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 4,6k

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this fic as our contribution to Dead Dove December by @romana-after-dark. Romana, thank you for hosting this amazing event celebrating dark fic! @milla-frenchy I had so much fun writing with you! I love you, baby!❤️🫂Dividers by @saradika-graphics

If you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! We don’t condone the actions of the characters. It is all fictional!

MILLA’S MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of water filling the tub is calming and hypnotizing. You’re wearing nothing but a pink robe, soft and warm. You untie it and open it wide before your gaze travels down to your breasts. You cup them gently and rub the nipples with your thumbs. They perk up at the touch and you flutter your eyes shut as the waves of arousal are spreading through every nerve in your body. One hand leaves your breast and glides down to caress your tummy and then mound. You dip your finger in between your folds and swirl it around your slightly wet clit. When you open your eyes, the mirror reflects your blown pupils back to you. You contemplate getting your vibrator from the drawer and using it in the bath. Your husband is away on a business trip and he won’t be back for a few more days but the idea of waiting for him to satisfy your desire excites you so you take a deep breath trying to calm down.

You take the robe off and hang it next to the sinks. You turn around, come up to the already full tub and bend over to check the water temperature. This is when he grabs you.

The iron grip of his hand is holding your wrists behind your back. His bulge is pushing in between your naked asscheeks. He’s big and strong and you’re helpless against him. He’s keeping you bent over the full bath and then pushes your torso down. Your head is submerged in the tub and you scream and thresh about but your cries are completely silenced by the water suffocating you. Your attempts to break free are fruitless. His fist is clenching your hair and it burns like hell but the pain in your burning lungs overshadows everything else. You’re trying to free yourself from his hold, to kick him and push him away but his beastly strength doesn’t let you.

You’re about to black out when he lifts your head by your hair and your mouth finally takes a life-giving breath. You cough and cry trying to get as much oxygen as he lets you and exclaim, “No, no, stop it, please!”

He growls and pulls your torso up and flush against his chest. You’re covered in water droplets, already cold and shivering but for another reason. The stranger might kill you and the thought makes you tremble and beg for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything! Pls let me go..”

You’re crying and screaming but he’s deaf to your pleas. You feel his breath on your cheek and he bites it. He doesn’t break the skin but the pain makes you wail. The man shakes your body and laughs, “Silly girl, the louder you scream the harder it’ll make me.”

Your back is pressed to his broad chest and your whole body is shaking as if electricity is going through every part of you.

“I saw you touching yourself, little slut. Made me hard like a rock,” he bucks his hips into your ass and you feel his clothed hard-on. “I coulda just taken what I wanted and left. But now I think I’ll take this pussy too.” He slaps your mound a little harder than a lover would and a whine escapes your lips.

“Started without me?”

You feel even more terrified if it’s even possible when you hear another voice.

“Nah, just gave this pretty slut a wash. Don't wanna touch her husband's crusted cum on her. We gonna leave our own.”

“Right, brother.” They laugh and you feel you might be sick. It can’t be happening. The sobs are shaking your body as you’re trying to turn your head to the side so you could see the new man.

“Please, let me go,” you plead, hoping the other intruder will be kinder to you.

The first attacker yanks your whole body to the side, turning you away from the tub so you’d face the second man. Your tears make his image blurry, resembling a dark shadow. He’s wearing all black and his face is hidden behind a balaclava. He sounds younger than the other one and is not as huge but he’s still bigger than you. He comes up close, takes your wet cheeks between his gloved fingers and pushes making your lips pout. You mewl and they both laugh. His other hand darts to your mound and he grabs your pussy squeezing your flesh with his harsh fingers. You whine and he looks at the other attacker over your shoulder, “She’s so soft and pretty. Can’t wait to use her.”

His accomplice hums in agreement, pressing his covered chin to your cheek and rubbing your delicate skin with the material of his mask, “need her to open the safe first.”

The second man agrees and steps out of the way while you’re being pushed to the door and into the master bedroom. You walk clumsily but as soon as you reach the doorframe you push all your weight to the side making your capturer crash into the door. Startled for a moment he eases his grip on you and you launch forward. The wetness of your body helps you to slip out of his hands and you’re running out of the room and along the hall crying for help as loud as you can.

Thoughts rush through your head as you realize that you need to get out of the house. So you race to the stairs but as soon as you reach them a hand grips your hair and pulls you back. It hurts and you try to break free but the man overpowers you with ease, drops his weight on you and you both fall on the floor. He grumbles and you realize that it’s the second intruder. He grabs your hands and ties your wrists behind your back with a rope.

“Stop, please, no!” you cry out, feeling pain in your scalp and body but the ache is dull as all your senses are fully focused on survival.

“Slippery bitch!” the younger man spits out and having restrained your hands, sits up on the back of your thighs panting heavily. He slaps your naked asscheek and you sob, tears soaking the carpet.

You hear steps and the first man comes up to you from the side. “Nice try, little slut,” he mocks you, pushing your shoulder lightly with the tip of his black boot. He orders to take you back to the bedroom.

You’re sitting on the floor in front of the safe in your walk-in closet. The men are towering behind you not afraid of you running away as your hands are securely restrained and you look and feel exhausted from the nerves and your attempts to break free.

The bigger man crouches next to you and his gloved fingers grasp your hair. Like a puppeteer he turns your head to him and rumbles, “Password, sweetie.” You begin saying the numbers immediately not seeing the point in protecting your valuables while your life is at stake.

“Please, take everything, just let me go… please,” you beg with a shaking voice but a carnal grin flashes in the opening of his balaclava and panic grips your heart.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he coos at you with a fake care as the other man chuckles and you see him bringing a knife to your face. It looks like a switchblade. You start pleading and crying again, horrifying images flooding your mind. Not waiting for you to calm down, the intruder turns the knife handle up and inserts it into your mouth.

“Hold it,” he orders, “just imagine it’s your husband’s dick. Bite it real hard, I’m sure you’re mad at him for leaving you alone now.”

He pushes your head down to the safe and you bend over awkwardly trying not to fall, knife between your teeth.

You hear the other man’s voice, “Press the buttons for us, princess, come on,” his voice is soft but it makes your hair stand up.

You sob and the knife nearly falls out of your mouth but you clench your teeth around it more tightly and bring the blade to the buttons.

“That’s our girl,” the first man mumbles, as his hand in your hair keeps you from falling.

You push the numbers with the tip of the blade and hear beeps. “You have a nice ass, baby,” the second intruder comments, apparently ogling your butt while you are bending over. You hear a click of the safe door and they push you out of the way hurrying to get their hands on the things they came for. At least you hope they came just for that.

You look up at them, wondering what they're going to do to you. You still hope they will leave, now that you've opened the safe for them.

You try not to panic and focus on your breathing. You can see their dark eyes through the openings of their balaclavas. They look at each other communicating without a word, and then the bigger one turns to you.

“How much time do we have?” he asks his accomplice, his gaze locked with yours.

“Half an hour, easy,” the other man replies.

Your hairs stand up and your breath catches in your throat. You feel that your brain is trying to convince itself that they are not going to hurt you more. You don't dare imagine what they are capable of.

The younger one grabs you by both arms and forces you to get up.

“We have plenty of time to have a little fun,” he laughs, dragging you towards your bedroom. You try to resist, but in vain. He turns around and pushes you against the wall. His hand grips your throat and you watch him in fear as he removes his balaclava. He has brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and a mustache. The fact that he is uncovering his face terrifies you. These men don't care if you can describe them, and you wonder if you will make it out alive.

He brings his face closer to yours, to the point where your noses could touch, and leans his pelvis against you. You feel his hard cock on your lower belly and the last hope your mind was trying to cling to is now gone. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, looking at you. You hear his brother laugh behind him and say “you’re a fuckin’ psycho, Tommy.” He takes off his balaclava as well, and his face appears behind his brother. He has short, brown hair, a light beard and a mustache. You try to memorize their faces, in case you can describe them to the police. Later.

That “later” fades away when Tommy moves closer to your cheek and slowly licks his way to your cheekbone. You start shaking like a leaf and he laughs, unties your hands behind your back, and grabs your arm before tugging you after him. He pushes you onto the bed, where you fall on your back.

You try to get up, but the other man pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and points it at you,

“You’re starting to piss me off, sweetheart, so I’m gonna set things straight. We'll fuck you and then we’ll leave. If you struggle, you'll turn us on even more. If you scream, we'll fuck you harder. Do I make myself clear?”

His icy voice, his words stop you and you lie down again. He hands the gun to Tommy and says “I’m gonna need my hands.”

You widen your eyes when he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. Thick. Much too big.

“Oh, sweetie, judging by your reaction, your husband has a small dick,” he says, laughing again. His brother chuckles too and adds, “She’s so not ready for our cocks, Joel.” He grabs your legs and pulls them towards him to lay you down.

Joel approaches the bed, slowly jerking off, and kneels on the bed at your side, before bringing his cock closer to your face, “Now you’re gonna suck me off, sweetheart. And after any dumb move from you, my brother will blow your brains out, ok?”

You nod. Your only hope now is that they end this quickly. You try to put aside another source of anxiety that is gnawing at your heart - their uncovered faces.

Joel taps your face with his cock twice before you part your lips slightly, and he says "Sweetie, open wide, or it ain’t gonna fit". You hold back the tears that are stinging your eyes, and you open your mouth wider. He slides the tip into your mouth, and you round your lips around it. He doesn't wait any longer, and sinks into you, holding your head in his hands.

He stops halfway down his member, then pulls back, before thrusting in with one stroke, making you choke. You hear Tommy laugh and can no longer hold back your tears as panic overtakes you and amplifies your suffocation. “Stop it, Tommy, you’re scaring the little thing!” Joel says with a chuckle.

He pulls out of your mouth and releases your head, and you feel Tommy get between your thighs. You murmur, “No, please”, but Joel adds, “Come on, sweetheart, my little brother needs to get his dick wet, too, right?”

Tommy rubs his cock against your folds, then against your clit. His tip rubs it several times, and to your horror you feel your pussy getting wet.

“Little slut is so wet for our cocks, Joel, can you believe it?”

“They always are. All fuckin’ whores.”

Tommy pulls back a little and looks at his cock, before slowly pushing it into your pussy, and growls "Fuck...she's tight, man." You wince as you feel your folds parted.

“Point your gun at her. I’m gonna fuck her throat, I don’t want her to do anything stupid.”

Tommy cocks his gun at your head and starts fucking you, thrusting deeper. Joel grabs your temples with his hands again, and his erect cock sinks in your mouth. He grips your head tighter, and quickly fucks your mouth, grunting. Your saliva pools against his member, and he is thrusting deeper and deeper, at the same pace as his brother is fucking your pussy. His cock hits the back of your throat, and he suddenly pauses, holding your nose pressed against his pubes.

“Don’t move, sweetie.”

You try to calm down, your mind in shock at what’s happening to you. In your home, where you should be safe. He finally pulls away, before thrusting in again, yet not going all the way to your throat.

“You’re taking us good, baby”, Tommy says, leaning over you and pressing his nose to your neck, the gun against your temple.

Still fucking your mouth, Joel tells his brother,“Stretch her with the gun. The handle. Let’s see if her little pussy can take it. Afraid I’ll split her in two with my cock.”

You want to scream, your mouth full of Joel’s cock, but only a vague moan leaves your mouth.

“And I’m the psycho?” Tommy laughs, pulling out and sitting up.

Joel pulls out too, and moves away from you with his hard cock in his hand, watching Tommy position the handle of the gun at your entrance with one gloved hand, and pressing your stomach with the other to hold you against the bed. He pushes gently and you cry out, “No, please stop, it won’t fit!”

“We’ll make it fit. You’re wet enough to take it.”

He keeps pushing, and the tip of the handle sinks into you.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Tommy for stretching you, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're going to pass out. You look at their faces, their eyes fixed on your pussy dilated around the gun, and you try to relax. A part of you wants to rebel and fight, but the other one takes over, knowing that you have no way out of this.

“Look, Joel, she's dripping. Good that we’re using the handle, she woulda ruined the barrel with her wetness,” Tommy comments and they laugh again degrading you.

“Ok, pull it out. She’s ready. Gonna fuck her now”, Joel says and adds, “Get on all fours.”

You don't move, too scared at the idea of what happens next, and Tommy points the muzzle at your forehead. Your tears start to fall again and you finally turn around, exposing your ass to Joel and standing on your hands and knees on the bed.

“I forgot that you had such a nice ass, sweetie!”

“Please… don’t do that”, you whimper with sobs in your voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna damage your ass. Don’t have the time for that. There’s one more thing we’ll have to do, after we’re done with you.”

You don't have time to ask or even think what they want to do next, Tommy is already on the bed pressing his cock against your mouth. Joel grabs your hips with his hands, and thrusts into you in one swift move. You suffocate under the intrusion, and Tommy pushes his cock in between your lips.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl and let me fuck this wet hole of yours,” Joel mumbles opening your thighs wider and begins fucking you with quick thrusts. Then he slides his hand down to your clit and you try to shake your head, but Tommy holds you tight, his cock buried in your mouth.

Joel coos at you, “Come on, sweetheart, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my big cock.”

You try to resist, but his finger slides against your clit perfectly. You tell yourself that it will end faster if he gets what he wants and let your mind retreat, and the emotions in your body take over. You feel your orgasm building, and your pussy begins to contract.

“Tommy… little slut is clenching my dick so hard, and she hasn't come yet”, he groans with a smile.

Tommy pulls your hair with his hand, and pushes his cock into your mouth one more time, before pulling out, gloved fingers clasped around his shaft. You moan, and cum on Joel's cock while your eyes roll back and your legs are shaking. He’s groaning, feeling your spasms around his cock, “Fuckin’ hell, little slut must be so bored with her husband.”

Tommy’s carnal gaze is sliding down your body and he looks manic when he lifts his eyes at Joel and asks with a smile, “wanna play like that time?”

Joel looks back at him, pulls out of your crying pussy and chuckles, “you’re fucking crazy, brother.”

“Why?” Tommy mumbles running his gloved hand through your messy hair. He looks right into your eyes drinking your fear and his cock twitches.

“The last one wanted it. This one looks too gentle.”

Tommy leans over you bringing his face so close you smell cigarettes on his breath and tells Joel,

“She might surprise us, brother. I’m sure she’s freaky. Aren’t you, princess?”

He grabs your pussy and you gasp. Your gaze darts to Joel who watches his brother’s fingers massage your wet folds and begins stroking his cock,

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do it. If she chokes my cock till I come… might spare her.”

You hear his words and sobs are about to break out of your chest but Tommy senses it and places his free hand over your mouth, “we’ll play one game, princess and then we’ll leave, deal?”

He’s waiting for the answer but you can’t agree without knowing what this psycho means so you just stare at him with fearful eyes.

He straightens up glancing at his brother, “Fuck, I forgot I don’t have to ask cos I have this,” he takes out a gun from his waistband and waves it at you.

“On your mark, brother,” he says to Joel and the bigger man grabs your legs and pulls you roughly on the bed towards him. His cock pushes between your folds and you moan.

“See! The whore loves it!” Tommy points at your with his gun, triumphant smile on his face and you feel a tip of a cock thrust into you. Joel’s huge member parts your folds again and you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t hold back as its head jams right into your cervix after a couple of deep and hard thrusts.

“Hey, hey, Joel. You’ll come too soon! Where’s fun in that?”

Joel pauses his movements deep inside you and you look at the men with confusion and fear twisting your face. What game are they going to play with you? And are you going to survive it?”

“Ready?” Tommy asks and you catch your breath waiting for the worst. Then Tommy leans down a little and slaps your pussy with his leathered palm, just a few inches from the place where his brother’s cock is buried deep inside you. You cry out when the pain catches you off guard and to your horror realize that it’s quickly mixing with pressure. Joel grunts shutting his eyes for a second and then opens them to glance at his brother, “Fuck, you were right. She’s squeezing me real good. Fucking chocking my cock, little slut.”

You sense your walls contract around his girthy length and you hate yourself for it. “That’s just one”, Tommy warns as he lands another blow to your tortured pussy. “Two,” he counts and you mewl, your eyes rolling back while Joel’s groaning through his teeth and plants his hands on the bed at your sides.

“What is it, brother? She’s so pretty and sweet that you’re about to come already?” Tommy mocks the man and Joel looks up at him with a pained and angry expression.

Tommy backs off with his hands in the air still chuckling and then comes back to slap your clit again.

As soon as he says, “Three” you feel warmth filling your pussy up as Joel is coming with a long growl grasping your hips leaving white marks on your soft skin. He starts thrusting into your core again pumping you full of his spend and you feel sick when your core is tightening. You won’t come. You won’t give it to him.

“Holy fuck, princess, you have a magic pussy. To make my bro bust a nut just after three slaps!” He laughs and takes your head in his hands kissing your mouth. First as a joke he pecks your lips but after parting from you for a second he comes back for more as his tongue pushes between your lips. You freeze when he’s stealing another part of you, licking into your mouth while his brother prolongs his climax with short thrusts into your swollen pussy.

Finally Tommy parts from you and straightens up grabbing his cock. “Fuck, Joel, my turn. This bitch is so hot.” He looks into your eyes while Joel pulls out his semi hard cock, and you feel his cum leaking out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole.

The men switch positions and now Joel is standing over you while Tommy gets on the bed between your shaking legs. He sits on his heels staring at your hole and says in a calm but stern voice, “Squeeze it out, princess.” It’s so sick that you’re blinking at him until suddenly he directs his gun at you and repeats his command a little louder, “I said squeeze out the cum, little slut!”

You swallow loudly and tighten your muscles. With a satisfied grin he’s watching a string of milky liquid flow out of your hole.

“We need to hurry up,” Joel rumbles, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy replies, seemingly deaf to his brother’s words, his gaze fully focused on your pussy.

Still having his gloves on he brings his hand to your folds and pushes two fingers into your hole. Then he takes them out and climbs over your body. Without a word be pushes the leathered digits between your lips,with an order, “Clean them up, princess.” You do as you’re told, tasting Joel’s bitter cum and leather on your tongue.

“Good slut,” Tommy half praises half degrades you watching your tongue swirl around his covered digits.

“Fuck, Tommy, come on!” Joel hurries up his brother and the younger man finally listens, gets between your thighs and pushes his cock in with a growl. He slides in easily, your pussy wet with Joel’s cum and stretched out well.

“Come on, baby, let’s win this thing,” he says and you mewl, knowing what’s coming next.

Joel’s hand hits your pussy harsher than Tommy’s and you jolt from the pain. The younger man is hissing through his teeth looking at your swollen reddish folds. He shivers and grips your hips tighter. “Fuck you’re choking my cock, baby!”

Joel doesn’t wait long to stroke you again and a tear slides down the side of your face. Tommy shuts his eyes tilting his head back and as another slap lands on your poor clit you moan and squeeze Tommy’s cock so well it pushes him over. His balls tighten and he shoots his cum deep inside your core. His seed mixes with Joel’s and it’s too much cum for your poor pussy so it leaks out of you in globs pushed out by Tommy’s cock still moving inside you. When he stills panting heavily, he pulls out and announces, “Three-three, bro! Guess we’re both suckers for her pussy”. He tucks his cock away hastily and when he’s ready he leans over your swollen mound and gives it a peck, whispering, “killer-pussy!”

Joel is already gathering the things they’re taking with them and you’re lying not moving a muscle wishing for them to forget about you and leave. But soon Joel comes up to the bed and you see a phone in his hand. He reaches to your face and you flinch, “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be over soon. Just wanna take a few photos, for the memories,” he mocks you with a smirk trying to fix your messy hair and wiping your face with his sleeve.

“Give me, I’ll do it,” Tommy appears from behind Joel taking the phone from his brother. He directs the camera at your face and commands, “Smile, princess, show us how happy you’re that we’re leaving.”

You smile weakly and he takes a few photos of you splayed on the bed, marks covering your skin. He makes you open your legs and takes a photo of your pussy leaking out their spend on your marital bed. Then he’s checking the photos and mumbles talking to you ,

“You’re a great fuck, princess. Can’t believe your asshole of a husband gets to have you whenever he wants…he’ll have a hard time filling your pussy after we stretched you that good,” he laughs and adds, “we might come back for more one day.” He says it in a seemingly benign manner looking into your eyes but you see a threat rooted in his words. “Keep your little mouth shut and forget our faces or these pictures of you will be everywhere. Surely your hubby will have to say bye-bye to his political career. You got me?” His gaze is serious and intent and you nod hastily.

Your heart is beating fast when you see Tommy take black bags from Joel. Will they keep their promise and leave you alive?

“Take care, princess,” you hear Tommy’s voice as he puts his balaclava back on and walks out of the door. Joel doesn’t say anything. With his face already covered he heads to the door, stops right outside and turns his head to you. He brings his gloved finger to his lips in a silent sign, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!❤️

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #deaddovedecember2023 #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #pedro pascal #dark joel miller #dark tommy miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #the last of us #tw noncon #tw dead dove #cw noncon #non con #dark fic

466 notes · View notes

matchaverse · 12 days

Text

Gay or European? | PG10

pairing: Pierre Gasly x male!rapper!reader

summary: pierre and y/n have been dating for about two years now but haven’t been public about it since they live two separate lives

face claim: ruby da cherry (Aristos Norman Petrou)

warning: talking about drugs, sex and suicide in the songs y/n produces

part two

[instagram] pierregasly

liked by charlesleclerc, suicideboys, and 739,628 others

tagged | @charlesleclerc @suicideboys

pierregasly | one of the best shows i’ve been to in a while. absolutely OBSESSED with this duo.

charleslecler: MY EARS ARE STILL RINGING

pierregasly: YUH YUH!!

username: pierre is a suicideboys fan???

username: A MAN OF TASTE!

pierregasly: SINCE 2017!!

yourusername: thanks for the support 🙌

[instagram] yourusername

liked by pierregasly, freddiedred, and 739,628 others

yourusername | i walk him like a dog

username: walk who???

username: we knew y/n was fruity

username: BUT WITH WHO???

username: that’s the real question

pierregasly: ME NEXT!

username: pierre???

username: is this european gay??

[instagram] pierregasly

liked by charlesleclerc, yourusername, and 738,628 others

pierregasly | this european is gay

username: WHO IS THAT MAN?!

username: is it y/n?!

username: can’t be

username: why not??

username: it could be! they’ve been hanging out sm and the other man is wearing hoodies so the tattoos are covered!!

yourusername: gay? gross 😏

username: IS IT YOU???

yourusername posted a story

caption: why does this man wear white socks…

replies:

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username: white socks are a red flag 🚩

yourusername: real and true. time to dump him.

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pierregasly | i swear this man is ALWAYS high when i see him

yourusername: that second picture is gonna be you tonight

pierregasly: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!! 🧎🧎

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username: y/n is my spiritual animal

username: yall are so cute!!

yourusername: no he’s not

pierregasly: babe wtf

charlesleclerc: finally, now i don’t have to keep this a secret anymore.

[instagram] yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charlesleclerc, and 749,728 others

tagged | @pierregasly

yourusername | two years with this frenchie 🫥

pierregasly: THE THIRD PIC?? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!

yourusername: my only purpose in life is to embarrass you

charlesleclerc: i have more embarrassing photos

yourusername: SEND THEM NOW

pierregasly: CHARLES NO!

username: two years?!

username: you guys did so good at keeping this relationship on the DL

username: never saw this coming but i support

username: GAY RIGHTS GAY RIGHTS

yourusername: gay rights for me, not him.

pierregasly: ????

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Break Me Down - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 5,200 Warnings: Some male skeeviness lol.

Part 1: The Game Begins

Two months ago…

You and M.M. continued to pour over all the records that the CIA had been able to pull on Soldier Boy.

This had been your life for the past month: locked in one hotel room after the next, up to your eyeballs in research. Or pounding the pavement in the sweltering summer of Brazil, on any whisper of Soldier Boy.

Right now it was the former. You all were piled into M.M.’s room, as it was the only one with a kitchen.

You smiled at Frenchie and thanked him when he offered you a steaming mug. At least you would finally get to experience Brazilian coffee.

You hiked a foot on the table where you and M.M. were working and sipped carefully; the mug was filled to the brim. Your companion eyed your pajama-clad leg, which only encroached an inch or two into his space.

“Excuse the fuck outta me,” said M.M. “Can you not?”

You briefly looked up from the (completely fabricated) biopic you were reading on Soldier Boy. “Hmm?”

M.M. gestured to your bare foot on the table. “Hello? What, were you raised in a fucking barn?”

With an amused smile, you lowered your leg. “I’m cramping up. We’ve been at this for six hours.”

“And counting,” Hughie said with a tired sigh. He and Annie had just come from scoping the local tourist spots and dive bars in the city. It wasn’t for pleasure though. You all had arrived in Brazil last night on a rumor that Soldier Boy had been spotted at a club a couple of days ago.

Annie heaved a sigh as she dropped into the seat next to you. She stole your paper fan on the table and tried to dry the sweat on her face and neck. You smiled and passed her your bottled water as well.

You and Annie had been “work friendly” at Supe Affairs. Now you felt like she had accepted you the most readily into the group. She seemed genuinely interested in who you were as a person as well.

Though you tried not to give too many personal details about your life, she had a way of disarming you, getting you to open up with her genuine willingness to listen.

You were friendly enough with Hughie and Kimiko as well, and you could also admit, you liked M.M. He was a straightforward man (and fun to tease with his anal idiosyncrasies). You got the most done with M.M. by your side. And watching him with Frenchie was pure entertainment.

Overall, you felt respected by them, even if you knew you weren’t as close as the rest of them seemed to be. You just hadn’t been on the team long enough.

The only one who mostly ignored you was Billy Butcher.

Butcher didn’t want you on the team. He’d made that pretty clear from the beginning.

What had his words been? Oh, yeah.

She’s a fucking amateur. Won’t last thirty seconds if, heavens for-fuckin’-bid, she encounters an A-lister like Soldier Boy.

You knew he considered you dead weight. But as Grace had told him, her track record speaks for itself.

No, you weren’t former SAS, like Butcher. You weren’t CIA, or any other military alphabet soup. But if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was tracking people down.

You were currently flitting through Soldier Boy’s sham career: the shitty music videos, the starlets, the ticker tape parades, and what precious little there was about his beginnings: about “Ben.”

You did find out that his family was from Hartford, Connecticut, and stupidly rich too. You found his parents’ names to go along with that.

And then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to him being unveiled as Soldier Boy.

“That is curious,” you murmured.

“Curious about the world’s most infamous granny fucker?” Butcher remarked. You slid him a wry look.

The fact that he tried to erase his past is interesting,” you said. “The details that aren’t here are just as important as the ones that are.”

Butcher hesitated a second, an ice-cold beer poised to his lips. He tipped it toward you in acknowledgement. “On that, we actually agree.”

“What do we know about his real life? Before he became Soldier Boy,” you asked.

Butcher sat down across from you and shaded in the details he knew, mostly about a disappointed father.

“Didn’t get enough hugs as a lad,” he surmised.

You suspected he was understating the truth. If there weren’t that many recorded accounts, pictures, or footage of Soldier Boy’s parents and home life, then he didn’t want people to know.

Interesting, you thought. Eventually Butcher got up to run down another lead that came in via text from Grace. Frenchie came back from the kitchen and saw how intently you were staring at your computer screen, eyes rapidly scanning.

“Ah,” Frenchie said, gesturing between you and the departed Butcher with a hand that held three alfajores cookies. “I see the same anal tenacity that fuels Monsieur Charcutier.”

You raised a brow. “My tenacity is for the case, not Soldier Boy.”

This wasn’t a vendetta for you. This was just business.

“For money,” M.M. correctly guessed, but his eyes held no judgment. “Been there.”

You sighed, smiling a little. Yes, you were doing this for money. They didn’t need to know anything more than that.

You liked this team well enough, but this was a job. The way you protected your family, and yourself, was by not talking about them.

That night, Frenchie’s ordered “package” arrived, courtesy of Grace. It was a healthy dose of Novichok gas—perhaps one of the only substances on Earth that could put Soldier Boy into a peaceful sleep.

Well, you didn’t know if it was peaceful, exactly. But he’d be asleep. That was all any of you cared about.

“At least it’s in proper containment this time,” M.M. said, examining the large cannister. Annie peered at it over his shoulder.

“I don’t know. My shitty perfume case seemed to hold it just fine,” she quipped.

You smiled from your usual seat at your computer. Annie came over with a sandwich for both of you. It was from the café down the street, and you’d been meaning to try it. Every time you stood out on your hotel room’s balcony, you could smell fresh bread and smoked meats coming from the café.

“Oh, yeah. How’s your sister?” Annie asked around a mouthful of sandwich. “She’s in college now, right?”

She had a good memory. Annie had heard you on the phone with your sister before you all left last month. You’d said one last goodbye, knowing it wouldn’t be safe to talk once you were locked into this mission.

While you were reluctant to answer Annie’s question, the others seemed distracted in the kitchen, fighting over who ordered chorizo and who ordered steak on their sandwich.

Still, you lowered your voice, even as a proud smile graced your lips. “She got into Julliard.”

Annie grinned and set her food down to give a little clap.

“She starts in the fall, so a few months,” you added.

“Aww, you’re glowing with pride,” Annie teased. And you laughed, but it was true. You wouldn’t hide that you were very proud of your little sister’s accomplishments.

“She’s worked hard, and she deserves it,” you said. Though your eyes dimmed. “I just wish I could help her celebrate…she’s on my case for taking this job.”

Quite simply, she worried about you. You were good at your job, but you were still human. She’d seen you come home banged up and bruised more often than you cared to admit…

Annie gave you a knowing look. “If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. I’m sure you can get other jobs—”

“Getting into school is just the beginning,” you said. “She’s got four years to go. Then her master’s. Hell, her doctorate if she wants.”

“There are scholarships…”

“It’s not enough,” you said with a sigh. It’s never enough.

“All right, lads,” Butcher said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he read off his phone. “The new Strongest Cunt in the World has been spotted. Suit up.”

“Where’re we going?” you asked, closing up your laptop.

Butcher shot you a wink. “Colombia.”

While on the private plane, you were the only one still awake as you continued to watch the archival footage with your Airpods in. Reel after motherfucking reel of Soldier Boy.

You really were starting to get sick of his smug face. He was clearly a good actor, if nothing else.

Then you came across the Russia files.

Part of you didn’t want to watch. You knew exactly what they were, and you didn’t want to see anything that would make you sympathize with him in your mind…

And yet, your father’s training was ingrained in you—like fingerprints on your skin. Like a vice grip around your throat.

Everything is relevant, always. Even if it isn’t.

…That, and maybe your own insatiable curiosity won out.

So you steeled yourself with a breath, and you hit the play button.

Gradually, your eyes widened.

You had seen awful things—as a private investigator at your father’s firm, and at Vought.

You had filled your quota of blood and death. And you had already seen the footage of Soldier Boy blasting a tower full of people in New York with the nuclear power now housed in his chest.

You also knew what he did to M.M.’s family. But after watching several minutes of Soldier Boy's torture, hearing his struggle, his outbursts of rage, the ragged gasps for breath, the clawing, traumatized sounds...

It was like stereo between your ears, and it was...too familiar. Too much.

So you finally turned it off, closing your laptop with an unsettled breath of your own.

And you were unable to sleep that night.

When you all finally arrived in Colombia, you and the team surveyed the wreckage in the casino.

It was a fucking blood bath.

As you stepped carefully through the wreckage of bodies and gambling chips, you looked for clues. Anything that might tell you about what Soldier Boy was doing here (though you could guess), and however unlikely, where he might go next.

You were disheartened to find the body of a young woman. Her big blue eyes were vacant, her blonde hair caked with blood from a head shot. On further inspection, you found a small room key in her hand.

With a sigh and a gloved hand, you took the key. You also closed the girl’s eyes.

You kept looking while the others had fanned out in the opposite direction. When you came across a small table that wasn’t turned over or splintered into fragments, you raised a brow. There was a napkin pinned to the top with a steak knife.

You yanked it out and examined the flimsy napkin. Noticing that you’d found something, Butcher came over to your side. He was much taller than you, fairly looming over your shoulder. You angled the note toward him.

Try harder.

S.B.

It was more than just a taunt.

It was the beginning of a game. And it made you smile.

“What the hell’re you smiling about?” Butcher asked.

“I like it when they’re cocky,” you replied. Butcher shot you a sideways glance, one that said you were maybe more deranged than even him.

“All supes are cocky bastards.”

You eyed him with a teasing grin. “On that, we actually agree.”

True to Grace’s word, she provided you all with the full extent of the CIA’s resources. While Butcher tracked down the hotel of the room key you found, you and M.M. were able to tap into any and all local street cameras and map out the likely points Soldier Boy had hit in this city—and where he could be going next.

According to the hotel manager, Soldier Boy had paid for a month’s stay, but hadn’t checked out after coming back for some of his belongings. The security cameras had caught him leaving his hotel room with a few men—armed ex-military types, and possibly his new entourage.

But the trail ended there.

Over the next two months, Soldier Boy continued to be one step ahead of you in the chase.

Though his movements were calculated (disappearing like a coil of smoke whenever you caught his scent), he seemed to be taking an extended vacation surrounding strip clubs, casinos, and other likely destinations for sex, drugs, and money.

And he’d evaded capture after hitting at least three banks on his way out of the U.S. alone.

At the current crap motel of the week, you shared the couch with Kimiko and Hughie while you surveyed traffic cameras.

“What’s the likelihood that he’s even still in Colombia? In South America, even?” Hughie asked. It was a good goddamn question.

“We have agents covering every major port and air hanger,” M.M. said. “If he wants to escape the continent, he’s gonna have to fight his way out, or rent a dingy and float his motherfuckin’ ass across the Atlantic.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” you remarked. “What connections does he have?”

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked that question, but it was the first time you got a straightforward answer.

“Who knows,” said M.M. “He’s an ancient fuck.”

“Who killed all his old friends,” Hughie supplied.

“Well, his team, to be fair. I don’t think he ever had friends,” Annie said. “...Plus his old girlfriend.”

“What a spectacular bonfire that was,” Butcher dryly quipped.

Nice, you thought, heavy on the sarcasm.

You sighed. Clearly, you all would have to be prepared for anything.

When you weren’t pouring through surveillance, you took to the streets with Annie, playing the part of American tourists.

“Soldier Boy don’t know who the fuck you are,” Butcher had reasoned. He’d then pointed at Annie.

“Her fame as Starlight can get you two into whatever bar, club, or fuckhole that might’ve let him in. She’ll park it at a table, attracting attention. Meanwhile, you’ll circle around and look for him.”

It was actually a sound plan, and you could be a decent actor yourself. This wasn’t the first time you’d adopted a role to find your target, and on this mission, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Well, a week later, the plan worked. You and Annie encountered a woman at a bar who waited tables at a nearby club, in Medellin. She’d served Soldier Boy just last night.

Medellin was considered the party city of Colombia, and for good reason.

Butcher had cleverly found your “disguise” for tonight, though you hadn’t liked the smirk on his bearded face when he gave you the shopping bag.

It turned out to be a semi-legal black leather dress, along with thigh-high boots possessing a sharp heel. Annie’s dress was just as short, and gold. With her blonde hair and shimmering makeup contrasting your black dress and smokey makeup, the two of you looked like night and day. Light and dark.

While Hughie manned surveillance in a rented van, parked outside the club, the rest of the team had found strategic points to cover in the club: M.M. was at the bar. Frenchie and Kimiko had found a table to watch the area in front of the stage, while Butcher was somewhere clinging to the shadows.

You followed Annie into the club. Once they’d recognized her as Starlight, they’d let her right in, and you by association. You didn’t envy her fame, but you could admit, it had some perks.

Inside, the club was dark and loud, and packed with people and streams of colorful light bouncing off the walls. This isn’t going to be easy.

Both of you scoped the area subtly before joining M.M. at the bar.

Well, you two found your own opening further down. Sitting next to him would be too obvious.

You subtly pressed a finger to the communicator in your ear while Annie ordered drinks.

“It’s gonna be hard to find my own ass in here,” you said to the team. You scanned the place and noticed an entire second and third floor. “This place is huge.”

“Then get crackin’, love,” Butcher’s voice reached you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but you did take the vodka martini Annie offered you.

“Ah, you beat me to it,” a man said, his richly accented voice hovering near your ear. You turned your head and had to lean back a bit. You were met with blue eyes, tan skin, and an attractive smile. The man tipped an imaginary hat, letting his shoulder-length dark hair dip into his eyes.

“Good evening, mi vida,” he said. “I was gonna buy you a drink, but I see you’ve got one. Mind if I finish my beer with you?”

Inwardly you wanted to sigh, but you gave a flirtatious smile to keep up appearances. “Sure.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, and with a more teasing smile. “I’m having a hard time placing your accent.”

You affected a giggle. “Oh, really? You mean I don’t have a massive, neon sign over my head that says, ‘American Tourist?’”

“Well, maybe not neon,” he joked. “I’m Antonio.”

“I’m Jess,” you lied, shaking his hand. He turned it over and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Annie raised a brow behind you, but she sipped her drink.

Antonio must’ve been a local. His dark blue buttoned-down shirt, jeans, and boots were more casual than the obvious tourists with their flashing finery. And by his accent, you could guess that he was at least Latino. Colombian, most likely.

You were able to subtly dodge the question of exactly where you were from. And the two of you flirted for a few minutes while you continued to survey the people passing by, scanning the gaps between bodies.

When Antonio finally asked you to dance, you agreed. It would get you further into the club with a better excuse than walking around aimlessly. You turned to Annie.

“Catch you later?” you asked. She tossed you a wink.

“Yeah, girl. Have fun!”

You smiled and let Antonio lead you to the dance floor. You discreetly used every movement to your advantage, looking beyond your dancing partner to continue your search. If Soldier Boy was here, you would find him.

“He’s not here,” said Antonio. It actually managed to jerk you out of your focus.

“Who?” you asked, feigning confusion.

“Whoever you’re looking for that isn’t me,” he said, injecting a fair bit of charm into his voice.

You actually felt your face warming up at that. The way he was looking at you now, there was very little doubt as to what he wanted. His grip on your hips tightened.

Part of you was getting impatient with this part of the game, but at the very least, he was a good dancer. He pulled you effortlessly through the cumbia, Colombian salsa dancing, even if he was starting to sweat on you.

Now, you could almost swear someone was watching. Though it might’ve been the sweat dripping down your spine, you felt that strange prickle on the back of your neck.

Well, besides Annie. You knew she was keeping an eye on you from the bar, as were Frenchie and Kimiko as they joined a poker game in the far corner, away from the dance floor.

Your gaze continued to flit through every corner of the room between spins and the movements of your feet and your hips.

When Antonio’s hands started get a bit too familiar with the curve of your ass, you took his hands and used them to spin yourself. He brought you back in tight. A bit too tight.

“Come on, baby…” he whispered in your ear.

And you felt his hand slide up the inside of your thigh. He even had the audacity to try and slip past the lacey front of your underwear.

That’s when your patience snapped.

You grabbed his wrist and “accidentally” drove your heel into his foot. With precision you felt it land between two vertebrae.

The girlish yelp he made brought a flicker of a smile to your lips, but you covered it with a doe-eyed look and many bumbling apologies.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He all but shoved you as he limped away, cursing you in Spanish. You’d taken four years of it in high school, and you still only caught half of it.

Hiding your smile, you walked away and pressed a discreet finger to the comm in your ear.

“The stage front is clear. Scoping the back.”

“Wait for me,” Annie said. She was still sitting at the bar. “I think you broke that guy’s foot.”

“He had tenacity,” Frenchie remarked.

“All balls and no brains, as usual,” you muttered. “Stay there and look shiny, Annie. He’s less likely to recognize me, but he might come out to play if he spots a familiar face at the bar.”

“She’s right,” Butcher said to Annie. “Stay where you are.”

You made your way to the bathroom and scoped the hall. There in the privacy of the shadows, you adjusted the gun holster on your thigh. It was a miracle Antonio hadn’t felt it.

Not that a gun would do much against Soldier Boy, but you didn’t feel right without it.

Then you kept moving and dodged various couples making out (and more) on your way upstairs.

“Going up,” you informed the team quietly. The second floor was a series of rooms, none of which you wanted to pop in on without an invitation.

After you made it to the end of the hall, you turned a corner and noticed a door hung open a crack. Sliding it open, you found a wall of music there to greet you.

And that wasn’t all.

Inside was a room of people drinking and drugging and generally doing things to one another. You didn’t want to go in, but you wouldn’t put it past Soldier Boy to get caught up in a mass orgy.

You walked through the room, only taking in what you needed to with your eyes.

Focusing on the far wall, you saw a leather chair by the window, with a still smoking cigar laid to rest in an ash tray on a small table. Your head tilting with interest, you went over to the table and found another hand-written note.

Once again, you sighed. “He’s not here, guys. He bounced.”

Once you all regrouped with Hughie outside the club, you handed the note to Butcher with a grimace.

“You have a love letter,” you said. And Hughie too.

With a wry brow raise, Butcher looked down at the scrap of paper.

Butcher, you’ll die first. Then the cum-guzzler.

S.B.

That night at the hotel, after you'd showered and peeled off that ridiculous dress, you poured over the Soldier Boy files again.

You hadn’t touched the Russia ones since that first night, but you knew you were missing far too much. In order to anticipate his moves, you needed to understand how he thought.

You couldn’t do that if you didn’t even have the full picture of who he was. And the movies, the silly music videos, even the exploded skyscraper and Homelander’s death—none of it told the full story of Ben.

It didn’t tell you what he wanted. What he cared about. Why he was playing cat and mouse instead of just taking his stand, like his soldier persona would’ve demanded of his pride.

Or maybe that pride's just like everything else: a well-crafted costume.

A knock at your door jolted you out of your thoughts.

You got up to your feet, briefly looking down to make sure you were decently dressed (you supposed pajama shorts, a bra, and a tank top would suffice). You grabbed your gun and checked the peephole before you answered the door with a smile.

It was M.M. with a mug of tea for you. “I knew you’d still be up, killin’ those files. It’s almost morning, you know.”

You accepted the mug with a warmer smile.

“Aw, you do care,” you quipped. He rolled his eyes.

You laughed a little. “Seriously, thank you.”

He pointed at you.

“Go to sleep,” he said. You raised two fingers to your temple in salute.

“Sir. Yes, sir!” you joked. Really, you appreciated his concern. After hearing many a story about his daughter Jennine, and seeing how the rest of the team respected him, you knew that he was a good man.

And thanks to him and Annie, you were actually starting to feel like part of this team.

After you wished him goodnight (or good morning, at this rate), you closed the door to your hotel room, followed closely by your laptop.

You took out your phone, silently contemplating what time it would be in New York right now.

Well, it would be very early in the morning. Still, you thought it was worth a try, since you had the time.

You dialed your sister, Luisa. While it rang, you remembered just how thin these hotel walls were. So you stepped out to the rickety balcony. Jeez, hope it holds my weight throughout this call.

When your sister eventually answered, she murmured your name sleepily in confusion.

“Hey, sorry for waking you up,” you said, feeling bad.

“It’s okay.” She yawned. “I should be up soon anyway. Got 8 am classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Ech. Screw that shit,” you teased.

“You’re the one sweating balls in South America.”

“I’d rather be drowning in my own sweat than listening to some old bag drone on for eight hours,” you volleyed back, and leaned against the balcony’s railing, even as it creaked suspiciously with your weight.

“You, my friend, are uninspired. You mean to tell me mosquitoes and drug cartels are better than Mozart?” your sister asked incredulously. Her sleepy voice was starting to lose some of its gravel as you two fell into familiar bickering.

“Wow, way to type cast. Not all of South America is about drug-running,” you pointed out.

“Aren’t there, like, entire shows about people shoving cocaine up their ass to get from Colombia to Miami?” Luisa asked.

“…Yes, but that’s not the point,” you said with a giggle. “And good guess. I’m actually in Medellin right now.”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?”

“Not really, no, but I don’t think you’ll sell me out to the cartels,” you joked. Or to the Russians, your mind added. That thought made your lips twist sourly.

“Anyway, are you okay? How’s school, really?”

“It’s good, sis. You know I’m good. I’m worried about you,” she countered, and you could hear the concern in her voice.

“You know me. I’m always good,” you replied with good humor. The silence on the other line told you that you hadn’t been quite convincing enough.

“When do you think you’ll come home?” she asked.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night (or morning), you sighed. “That’s hard to say.”

The answering silence told you even more about your sister’s thoughts, and you felt guilty for it.

“I’m happy just knowing you’re doing so well. With school, starting your adult life, doing your thing,” you added.

“You need to start thinking about yourself,” she told you.

“What do you mean, Lou? I’m fine.”

It was Louisa’s turn to sigh.

“You know, I was so proud of you when you decided to leave Vought," she said. "When you finally got out from under Dad. When you started working at Supe Affairs…you seemed happy, like you were finally proud of yourself too.”

Emotion started to burn behind your eyes. Part of it was probably sleep deprivation, but you heard the sincerity in your sister’s voice.

She just knew you so well. And she wasn’t lying there—what she’d said was all true of you. However, after the joke that was Victoria Neuman running Supe Affairs, you didn’t know what you could trust anymore.

Maybe not even your own judgment.

“But I really wish that you’d consider more than just your work,” Luisa said. “Like a hobby. Take a painting class. Go to karaoke, like we used to do in grade school after Choir practice. You have such a beautiful voice! Like Grandma’s was.”

“I’ll leave the performing to you, Lou,” you said with a chuckle. She was serious, however.

“Work isn’t everything,” she reminded you. Now her voice was firm. “You should go out with your friends. Go out with Annie! Rub shoulders with her celebrity friends.”

“Right.” You huffed a laugh. You’d been around plenty of famous supes while at Vought. You’d ran down the leads and tracked down the criminals, just for the supes to swoop in and “save the day.” You did the grunt work, and they claimed the credit.

You’d had enough of “celebrities” to last you a lifetime.

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa said. “And finally put an end to that goddamn dry spell. What's it been, like three years?”

“All right, all right.” You held up a hand of surrender, even if she couldn’t see it. You were grateful she couldn’t catch you blushing. “That’s enough about my non-life, thanks.”

You shook your head. Embarrassment actually clawed inside your belly.

Yes, it had been a while since you’d actually been with anyone, relationship or otherwise. You just didn’t have time to have a life, you’d reasoned. Working at Vought had been grueling, and your hours at the S.A., while better, were still demanding.

…Still, you could appreciate that your work-life balance left much to be desired. And that was on you.

Case in point, you were on this job.

You tipped your face heavenward, letting the sunrise spill some warmth on your face.

“But…I hear you, okay?” you replied with your eyes closed.

“You do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. When I get back, I…I’ll work on it, okay?” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. I should probably get going, but…please be safe.”

“Always,” you promised.

After you hung up, you finally opened your eyes.

That prickly feeling was back, almost like you were being watched.

You scanned around, but your human eyes didn’t find anything out of the ordinary in the sunshine pouring in between the rows of buildings.

In fact, you didn’t see a damn thing that wasn’t supposed to be there.

So you clutched your phone to your chest, letting out a deep breath. Then you headed back inside.

But mere feet above you, if you had only looked up to the roof, you would’ve seen a hunter lazily eyeing his prey.

AN: Ok! So a little bit slow in this chapter, but it’s all important setup.

In the next chapter, the reader meets Soldier Boy:

You laid a hand on his chest, fingers spreading between the open buttons, and felt his warm skin.

He glanced up at you with another challenging tilt to his head. What are you gonna do now?

You met that challenge, boldly leaning down to press a kiss against his lips.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel

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iamasaddie · 8 months

Note

Hey babe :)

So for your celebration, i would looooove to read some somnophilia. I'm sure you'd write something fucking hot.

Have a beautiful afternoon 😘

Hello, my darling!! Thank you so much for this! Somno is something I've never written before, so it was definitely a challenge for me! I hope you like the finished product, ILY !

sweet dreams are made of this

paring: Joel Miller x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 1,2k~ warnings: ER; somnophilia; explicit sexual content; male masturbation; thigh fucking; dirty talk; no use of y/n. let me know if I missed anything a/n: a very special and intimate thank you to @johnwatsn for being an incredible person and beta-ing this work <3 dedicated to @milla-frenchy MY MAIN MASTERLIST 1k celebration masterlist

He didn’t know what was so alluring about seeing you sleep. Naturally, he understood that a normal person would either ignore their sleeping partner, or find it adorable and move on. They wouldn’t feel the scorching blast of arousal shooting through their system, making their skin impossibly tight, prickling with needles of need.

Joel tried to find a reasonable explanation for his dick getting hard whenever he saw your lips parted, small puffs of breath leaving your mouth as sleep claimed your body with its tight grip. Was it the excitement of finally seeing you so relaxed and unbothered after the distraught you've been living through for so long? The mellow curves of your body that looked even softer now that you weren't tensed with consciousness? Whatever it was, it slowly drove him insane. Insatiable.

He gave in one night, climbing out of your shared bed and sitting himself on a chair beside it so as to not wake you up. Not only was he embarrassed with the lengths his need led him to, but it would also ruin the whole reason because of which he was doing it. Dropping his boxers to his knees, he choked his cock with terrifying vigor, trying to find that needed release while also not taking his eyes off your sleeping form. Your hair splayed on the pillow - what a luxury in the world that had ended more than two decades ago - like a halo, naked body barely covered by a sheet, in attempts to get some comfort during the nights filled with heat and humidity. Joel jerked his cock a handful of times before spilling his seed all over his pouchy stomach, biting his lip to suffocate the guttural sounds that accompanied his orgasm. He did that once, then again a week later, and again the next day until it became a nightly occurrence and he even forgot to think about the depravity of it all.

Tonight, as he sat in his usual spot, long-forgotten shame even less visible in the darkness of the room, something was different. For the first time, your sleeping body wasn't facing him; you had turned away the moment you crawled into the bed. Joel hated when you fought, but the safety and the constant close proximity sometimes triggered something in him, it also triggered something in you. A small slip in wording would end up in your fists flying and his chest getting the hits. You'd both scream words you didn't mean and it'd tear his heart into pieces. Sometimes you and him both would wonder if you should've gone your separate ways once you’d settled in Jackson, but the moment he'd brush your hair out of your face in a quiet apology, you always accepted. Or when you'd come to him from behind, kissing his shoulder blade through his flannel, you both knew that apart you'd suffer more than together. You hadn't had a fight for a while, so tonight it was a big one, you even smashed his only cup centimeters away from his head before storming into your bedroom. He quietly followed you after finishing off what was left of the bottle of whiskey and laid on the farthest end of your shared bed in a crappy mood. But when he woke up in the middle of the night to open a window and let in some air, his cock informed him about his usual needs.

That's why now he was rubbing his cock raw with his fist, but the long-awaited release was both on the precipice, and also as far away as the happy past.

"Fuck," he quietly muttered. At this point it was painful. The saliva he used already dried off and he was nowhere close to coming. But there was no way he'd be able to fall asleep like that.

Still, Joel climbed back to bed naked, leaving his boxers on the floor. As he lay down, his stiff, burning cock hit his soft stomach, smearing the precum on the skin. Against his better judgment, he creeped closer to you, spooning your pliant body from behind and inhaling your gentle smell. Sometimes it was the only thing that could bring him comfort, just the way you smelled, so warm and homey. So safe. You let out a barely audible sleepy groan and he was ready to apologize, but then you pushed your ass back, unconsciously grinding your plush behind on his naked and needy cock.

"Oh, baby, fucking hell," his moan could wake you up. It should've woken you up, but it didn't. Joel's hands became braver, moving from your shoulder and underneath your t-shirt – his t-shirt – to cup your sex. "You're drenched already, my love." He chuckled lovingly, pressing his lips into your neck and eliciting soft breathy sounds from you. "You better be dreaming of my cock."

His thick fingers circled the wet patch on your panties, dragging your slick up and down your lips. Moved by only his need of you and release, he pressed your body closer still, moving a little and slipping his cock between the plush of your closed thighs. The tightness of their embrace could not compare to the choking grip of his hand, but it was so, so much more preferable. Losing himself in your body was close to a religious experience, he still marveled at how he got this fucking lucky. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he did something right.

Your skin slicked by his precum gave the perfect pressure and friction for him to start losing his mind. The sweat covered his temples as he tried not to make unnecessary movements and wake you up. His chest was almost flush with your back, a steady pumping of his hips the only motion he allowed himself.

"Fuck, baby, every part of you can get me off." He knew you couldn't hear him, but he cradled a hope that maybe his voice would appear in your dream. Joel knew how much you liked it when he growled filth in your ear. "Wish I could slide into your tight pussy, but I don't want to wake you up." He continued his shallow thrusts, feeling closer and closer to the edge. His heavy balls were drawn up tight, ready to burst. "Maybe next time, when you're not mad and don't sleep in your panties I will just stuff your pussy full of my cock. Bet a pretty cock worshiper like you would love to wake up with me buried deep inside her cunt."

Imagining himself sliding inside your warm wet pussy while you were still asleep was his undoing. His cock started pulsing, spurting one, two, three thick long ropes between your thighs, almost feeling them now sticking to your skin. Fuck, how he was supposed to explain that?

"Fu- fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck"

He licked his top lip, sweat beading in his cupid's bow, and kissed his lover's neck. Joel's breathing was labored, his heart practically breaking his ribcage with the intensity of its beating that he tried to calm down.

"You know, you could've just said you were sorry." Your voice was sleepy, barely louder than a whisper, but it deafened Joel's unsuspecting ears.

"Baby, I…–"

You turned around, tugging his hands around you in a tight embrace, and kissed him sloppily on his lips. "I'm glad you came, but now it's my turn. You got another one in ya, cowboy?"

"Fuck yes."

_________________

leave a comment if you liked that, ily

#i am not a saddie #1k celebration #iamasaddie fic #Joel Miller x f!reader #joel miller smut

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morallyinept · 8 months

Text

A list of all my favourite JOEL MILLER Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

PART 3

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Squirming - @frannyzooey

Ravish Series - @psychedelic-ink

Aquatic Rehabilitation - @psychedelic-ink

Joel Miller Masterlist - @psychedelic-ink So much more to choose from!

The Vagabond Gladiator Series - @dark-scape Gladiator!Joel

Dark But Just A Game - @devilmademewriteit

Hard To Be Soft - Tough To Be Tender Series - @iamasaddie Pimp!Joel

Cry Baby - @psychedelic-ink Slasher AU

Summer Schooled Series - @boliv-jenta Featuring Dave York

Bloom - @nothoughtsjustmeds Flower Shop AU

A Lover's Pinch Series - @hier--soir Professor!Joel

Whatever's On Tonight - @inthe-dark-tonight

Hot & Heavy Series - @tieronecrush Neighbour!Joel

Insta!Joel Series - @hopplessilse Insta!Joel

Cinema - @livyjh

My Fellow, My Guy - @nexusnyx

At His Mercy - @intoanotherworld23

Drunken' Nights & Sober Realizations - @sweetenerobert Dad!Joel x Dad!Male Reader

All Mine - @tupperwaretub Bottom!Joel x M!Reader

Blood-Ridden Series - @tupperwaretub M!Reader

Together Again - @odetodilfs SoftDom/Bottom Joel x Sub/Top Male!Reader

Long Day At Work - @odetodilfs Bottom!Joel M!Reader

Your Little Spoon - @second-axis-point M!Reader

Missing You - @secretly-dum M!Reader

A Wolf & A Sheep - @pedrosbf M!Reader

Shared Warmth - @blank-slate-jay M!Reader

Could I Be Yours? - @hiraeth-ink

Halloween Party - @milla-frenchy Dead Dove

Roads Series - @milla-frenchy

Divine Dynasty Series - @cavillscurls Mafia!Joel

Rough Draft - @mandoisapunk Professor!Joel

Aches, Thoughts & Needs - @toxicanonymity Innocent!Reader

Double Shot - @thesimulationswarm Featuring Tommy Miller

My Journey To You Series - @starry-eyes-love

Burning Desire - @pascalswift

How Long - @gracieheartspedro Brother-in-law!Joel

Right Place, Right Time - @chaotic-mystery

In The Light They Both Look The Same - @insomniamamma

Take My Love, Take It Down - @exquisiteserotonin

Weaver's Nest - @simsscribbless

You Are My Heaven On Earth - @peterhollandkait

Soft & Sweet & Sugar & Spice - @cavillscurls Virgin!Reader

Cruel & Joel Masterlist - @notjustjavierpena

Checkmate - @itsharleystuff

Rough - @bbypedrito

Nightmares - @joels-darlin AO3 Link

Misunderstanding - @joelismiller

Falling In Love With A Hunter, Never Let You Go & Let Go - @flightlessangelwings

Sunflower Series - @galactic-basic OFC

I Wanna See You Begging Series - @itgetsdark-x DBF!Joel

#pedro pascal characters #fic recs #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x m!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character stories #pedro pascal character fic #joel miller tlou #the last of us

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first-edition · 1 year

Text

Frost Bitten

Smut-day 7

Duncan vizla x reader.

Sum- You decide to surprise your husband with an early Christmas present after a day of work.

CW- smut, 18+ themes and language, p in v, dom! Duncan, window sex, age gap, short oral male receiving.”

The familiar sound of the black truck pulls into the drive way. You smile as you look out the window your husband coming home from a 3 day long work trip.

You watch as he hops out of the car holding a box and some grocery bags. He walks up the stairs seeing you waiting for him makes him smile a nod.

You run to the door opening it for you immediately wrapping your arms around his neck kissing him. He kisses you back. Trying not to drop everything hes holding.

“hold on. Hold on.” He chuckles placeing down the grocery’s.

“I’ve gotten you a present.” he says you frown as he holds out the box to you. Inside you see theres a French bulldog.

“oh!” You gasp smiling at the little thing.

“some girl was giving him away in town i know how much you like the frenchies.” He says.

You smile picking up the dog in your arms.

“what’s his name?” You ask.

“he dosnt have one.” He says.

“well rusty now you do.” You name him on the spot.

“i have a present for you as well.” You say “close your eyes, you demand he sighs and listens closing his eye as. The other is gone and concealed under the eyepatch.

You put rusty down to explore the house and pull off your shirt and take off your pants. Revealing the red and white lacy langerie set.

“okay. Open” you reply he listens

“merry Christmas Duncan.” You say the air shirt as he steps towards you his cold hands meeting your bare waist.

“fuck..” he huffs. “i-it’s not much but I wanted to surprise you with-” he cuts you off kissing you you meet his pace kissing him back. He pulls off his trench coat and boots. He pulls you up into his arms as your legs wrap around his waist.

His hands wander your waist and thigh as he sets you on the side table in front of the window. His kisses move from your lips to your neck and chest. His hand holds the back of your hand in place as he makes his way to your neck finding your sweet spot. His other hand trails to your stomach find your puss he maneuvers his fingers between your thighs only to be met with the crotchless part of the set.

He growls in your nape and pulls back for a second to take off his sweater and undo his pants. Your hands wander his chest and back keeping yourself entertained as he undresses.

His erection is sprung free to your liking you place kisses along his neck and chest hopping off the table to move to your knees meeting his dick to you face. Taking it in one hand. You begin stroking his shaft causing him you sharply inhale. Making you smirk at his reaction to you.

You open your mouth sticking out your tounge running it up the vein on his cock. Mouth fucking him.

His fingers entangle themself in your hair. As he moans under you. he’s missed you and you know it the way he touches you and lets you take over.

You can feel him twitch in your mouth before he pulls you up to him kissing you and pulling you up back onto the side table.

He enters you beginning to fuck you without warning as pornographic moans leave your mouth.

“I want to cum in your cunt not you mouth.” He growls in your ear. He pushes you down pulling your hip closer to him as he thrusts roughly into you. You grab onto the edge of the table feeling yourself clench around his dick making his moan out to you.

Your climax hits you as you arch your back.

“ah f-fuck Duncan!” You moan out as he leans do to you kissing you and mesaging your breasts over stimulating you. Arching you back changes the angle of him fucking you making him spill his cum inside your cunt.

Sloppy thrusts follow as he let you both come down from your high.

“best present ever.” He says kissing your fore head letting his hand run down the fabric once more his erection growing once more.

#duncan vizla x reader #duncan vizla #duncan x reader #duncan vizla x reader smut #polar smut #polar x reader

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guizika · 5 months

Text

Hey! I'm Guilherme, a Brazilian reader and writer. Well, English is not my first language so there may be some writing errors, but I will try to do my best.

I write for fun, maybe it takes a while because I have some other things to do.

Well, you can just call me Gui, I hope you like it and that's it!

This is a reader x character blog!

Requests: Open

Characters I write for:

MK1 - Bi-Han (Sub-Zero), Johnny Cage, Syzoth and Tomas (Smoke).

JJK - Gojo Satoru, Itadori Yuuji, Megumi Fushiguro, Sukuna.

SPN - Castiel, Crowley, Dean Winchester, Jack Kline and Sam Winchester.

Tokyo Revengers - Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Takashi Mitsuya and Shuji Hanma

The Boys - Billy Butcher, Frenchie, Homelander, Hughie Campbell and Kimiko.

TWD - Daryl, Glenn, Negan and Rick.

Scream - Billy Loomis and Stu Matcher.

(More characters and even fandoms may be added over time.)

Request rules:

◎ i will not write incest, pedophilia, homophobia, racism, etc.

◎ i will not write character x character or oc x character.

◎ i will not write things that make me uncomfortable.

◎ I only write for Male, FTM and GN readers.

◎ I will respect requests and will accept those that follow the rules.

Masterlist

More about me

#dom male reader #top male reader #amab reader #ftm reader #mortal kombat x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #the boys x male reader #gn reader #male reader insert #male reader #supernatural #spn x male reader #twd x male reader #anime x male reader

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deaf-solitude · 7 months

Note

can i request platonic frenchie&reader where they run scams or heists together? reader can be g/n!

(A/N: Of course! :D So sorry for the delay, I’ve been dealing with a lot these past months and trying to get out of writer's block. I may have gotten… a little off topic and carried away but I meannnn… I had a vision and I ran with it. I hope it didn't come off as romantic due to some dance scenes. Hope you enjoy! <3 (also season 2 RAHHHHHH!!! I’m staying up to date with the episodes as soon as they come out, so feel free to submit requests for season 2 stuff as well!) also this starts in third person, but is written in 2nd person afterwards!)

Pairing: Platonic Frenchie x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None (aside from rich people ugh). Very fluffy :]

Summary: You and Frenchie snuck into a fancy party to rob some rich people, as one does. The night was going so very smoothly, and you both racked up quite the haul for the night. A bit of trouble arose as you were trying to leave, but there's nothing you can't... dance your way out of?

“Hey, get back here!” A voice shouted from somewhere in the crowded ballroom, but it was only met with giggles and hushed exclamations as two figures rushed away from the fancy Englishman. A few other posh citizens were shoved to the side as they ran, causing them to let out offended gasps and surprised shouts, but that didn’t deter the pair from making their getaway.

“Go, go, go!” One of the two encouraged, pushing the man in front of them around a corner to get away from any pursuers they may have picked up. The two yelped as they turned the corner, coming face to face with a taller, burlier man. He… did not look pleased. The thief behind their male counterpart suddenly launched forward, grabbing his hand and dragging him down another hallway. He stumbled slightly from the abrupt movement, but quickly regained his footing and kept pace with them.

They could hear the larger man giving chase behind them, spurring them to run faster. Through many narrow hallways and past many closed doors (which they didn’t dare test to see if any of them were locked or not), the two finally saw a break as they turned a corner: an ajar door. They charged through the doorway and nearly crashed into the wall opposing it, but scrambled to quietly shut the door behind them anyway. The space was small, almost too small for the both of them, and they were forced to painfully squish together.

They covered each other’s mouths with their hands as they heard the hurried footsteps of their pursuer, lying in wait as they approached and then passed their hiding place. They could hear each other's racing heartbeats in their ears from the close proximity, waiting at least a minute more before even considering moving. Slowly, they exchanged wide-eyed glances before breaking down into quiet laughter.

“Up top!” You exclaimed through laboured breaths, struggling to free your arm before holding one of your hands up toward Frenchie. He grinned and enthusiastically gave you a high five, doing a little fist pump right after. You giggled quietly at his action, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You got the goods?” Frenchie questioned eagerly, to which you procured a decent sized pouch from behind your back, its contents jingling around as it moved.

“I sure do,” you responded with a mischievous grin, shaking the pouch slightly before tucking it back behind your back, straightening up a bit–or, as much as you could in the small space. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here, yeah?” You proposed, gesturing the best you could to the small closet the two of you were still standing in.

Frenchie nodded, “right, right.” He leaned forwards to slowly open the closet door, carefully peeking his head out to scan the hallway. Empty. He withdrew his head and gave you a thumbs up, indicating the coast was clear, before shoving his hands in the small, intricate satchel tied around his waist, trying to look for something. He fished out two masquerade-esque masks with a flourish a few moments later, the masks similar to the ones some of the other guests were wearing, but a little more crude due to the materials Frenchie had on hand when making them. “Our disguises,” he announced, handing the one over to you that matched your outfit’s theme and colours.

“Oooo, very nice,” you complimented, taking the mask offered to you gently. It covered a little more of your face than a normal mask would, and yours had some beautiful feathers fanning out from one side, no doubt stolen from that rich man’s ship that Blackbeard’s crew had raided earlier. “You sure these masks will be enough to stop people from recognizing us? Or rather, the blokes that were chasing us earlier?” You questioned as you fastened the mask to your face, adjusting the string holding it in place so it wouldn’t slip.

“Oh yeah, a hundred percent. We’ll be out of here in no time.” Frenchie reassured, waving a dismissing hand at you as he fumbled to put his own mask on. You nodded at Frenchie’s words, choosing to believe him rather than fret over the fact that the masks would definitely not conceal your identities well enough, but you supposed you would cross that bridge when you got to it.

Within a few more moments, you were both ready to go, checking that the hallway was clear once more before exiting the cramped closet. You made quick work of navigating the halls the two of you had just been running down, making your way back to the main area. There was only one problem that stood between you and your escape: you had to make your way back through the crowded ballroom, where you had both stolen several valuables from several different people. You found yourself standing in front of that very room before long, pausing in one of the extravagant arches that led into it. It was still as packed as ever, and the band set up in the corner of the room were still playing their baroque music.

“Ugh, this is going to be terrible,” Frenchie groaned, already shivering in discomfort from the thought of having to get through this room in a non suspicious manner, which most likely called for some interaction with these upper class snobs. You also found yourself shuffling your feet anxiously, your mind already jumping to find other solutions.

“Uh, maybe there’s a way around…?” You had begun to move away from the busy room when suddenly you were taken by the arm and pulled in another direction. Your head snapped to the side to see a posh Englishwoman had hooked her arm with yours, a tight smile on her face. “Oh, darling, I love the embroidery on your outfit! Wherever did you get it?” She gawked, eyeing you –an unsuspected thief– up and down.

You were quick to put up a bashful facade, giving the woman a coy smile in return, but you couldn’t shake the nervous twinge in your body language. “Ah, this old thing?” You waved a hand at her, straightening up a bit, “I’m afraid it’s handmade by a friend of mine, a gift to me. They don’t take clients, unfortunately.” Of course, you were lying through your teeth: this ‘friend’ of yours was actually that wealthy man that had been robbed earlier that day, who had an odd amount of fancy outfits aboard his ship. He was dead now, courtesy of Izzy. You supposed the outfit counted as a gift, along with the feathers adorning your mask.

“Oh, please, you must put in a good word for me! Their work is simply exquisite!” The woman pleaded, holding both of your arms now. You chuckled nervously, trying to wrench yourself from the woman’s uncomfortably tight hold.

“Of course, of course! I’ll be, uh, sure to do that!” You responded hastily, your gaze flicking to the side to meet Frenchie’s, but instead found that he was missing from where you were just standing next to him. Your eyes widened in panic, beginning to search the rest of the room for your companion. Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to catch a glimpse of him again, the poor man also being dragged away and crowded around by some posh couple.

Shit, you cursed inwardly, excusing yourself from the Englishwoman as you began to make your way over to Frenchie again. You nearly groaned as yet another person intercepted your path, talking your ear off about some party gossip you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to at the moment, only responding in hums and nods as you kept your eye on Frenchie. Eventually, he turned and met your gaze with a distraught expression, a frown tugging at his lips.

At that moment, a new song started up, and all of the partygoers suddenly perked up and started to cheer, seemingly getting into… pairs? Oh. OH. Your heart dropped into your stomach, realizing that people were starting to dance. Unfortunately for you, it seemed as though the crowd was pulling in any dance partner they could find, which included onlookers. You looked back to Frenchie with a panicked look–you were never confident in your ability to dance. He gave you an empathetic look, shrugging before being pulled away by a tipsy woman who was far too giggly for his liking.

“Out of all the fucking times,” You grumbled to yourself, your fists clenching at your sides in annoyance and slight nervousness. A tap on your shoulder had you whirling around, your posture stiff as you stared at the masked woman who had wanted your attention.

“Oh hun, you seem awfully lonely. It’d be a shame if you missed out on all the fun,” she purred, holding out a hand. You hesitated, trying to ease the tension in your voice and body by clearing your throat as you scratched the back of your neck.

“Oh, I don’t know… I’m not the best dancer,” you explained, but your hand was grabbed by the woman anyway. You were startled at first, every muscle in your body screaming to pull away from the unfamiliar woman, but fuck it, causing a scene was the last thing you needed right now.

“That’s quite alright, just follow my lead,” the woman responded quietly, unnaturally kind for someone of her stature. You nodded without a word, letting the woman take the lead in a more relaxed step pattern. It was easier to get into the flow than you thought, and after a bit of stumbling, you were following the woman’s movements effortlessly. She smiled up at you, pulling you a bit closer. “See? You’re a natural.”

You barked a laugh and dare you say, although the woman’s proximity was a bit worrisome, you found yourself having a bit of fun. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually enjoyed dancing without making yourself look like a fool. “I wouldn’t say a natural,” you responded casually, your gaze wandering to inspect the rest of the ballroom, looking for a way out despite the fun of it. That’s when you spotted your counterpart a few feet away, trying his damndest to keep up with an overly eager damsel. You suppressed a laugh, lest you make your own dance partner suspicious, and took the lead to slowly make your way over to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You smirked as you passed Frenchie on the dance floor, bumping your hip into his as you spun your dance partner away from yourself for a moment. Frenchie, taken off guard for a second, chuckled at the action and was grinning at your unusual confidence, but was pulled away by his own dance partner before he could get a word in. The interaction left a giddy smile on your face, even as your dance partner came spinning back into your arms.

After another minute or so, the song picked up the pace and suddenly everyone was switching dance partners. Despite her friendly attitude, you still couldn’t help slipping off the gold rings around the woman’s fingers as the two of you parted, discreetly pocketing them with a smug smile. You half-bowed to her as you scurried off, hoping she wouldn’t notice the small accessories missing anytime soon.

You tried picking out Frenchie in the crowd as everyone mingled again, but were unable to before a man approached you with unmistakable, arrogant confidence. “Why, hello there,” he greeted, his voice nasally and annoying as he grabbed your arm and pulled you much too close to him, “may I have this dance with you?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying your best to keep your smile from slipping as you eyed the exit, still having half the room to traverse. You turn your attention back to the man in front of you, eying him up and down with a feigned look of coyness. “I suppose,” you trailed off, fighting hard to bite back any snarky remarks or pointed looks. As he took your hand and started to lead you in dance, however, you couldn’t stop yourself from stepping on his shiny shoes a few times… accidentally, of course.

You found yourself smiling, not because of the dancing, but from the pure enjoyment of toying with the man in front of you as he tried to remain polite, despite his lips twitching in annoyance. Another step on his foot nearly had him pushing you away from him, and you tried hard not to laugh. It came out as a stifled inhale, easily mistaken for a gasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight,” you pouted up at the man, rolling your head to the side to rest it on your shoulder.

The man sighed heavily, but still managed to give you a strained smile as he pulled you close again. “Ah, it seems dancing just isn’t your forte,” he rudely commented, his hand trailing up to your face and towards your mask, “maybe we should just cut to the chase, hm? See that pretty face of yours?”

Your facade broke instantly, reflexes almost lightning-quick as you seized the man’s wrist in your hand, your breathing suddenly uneven with anger and surprise. You glared up at him as your lip pulled back into a scowl, but before you had the chance to spit any insults at him, everyone was changing partners again.

You swiped the jeweled bangle from his wrist in all the commotion before eagerly shoving the man away, who stumbled from the force. He was taken aback to see you flipping him off as you backed away from him, giving him a disgusted look. He didn’t have any time to take action against your sudden impertinence as another woman swooped in and begged for him to dance with her, but you still refused to turn your back on him as you continued walking backwards.

That is, until you inevitably backed into someone.

You whipped around, agitated and ready to snap at whoever had gotten in your way, but your expression and posture immediately softened when you saw who it was. “Hey! Thought I lost you for good for a second there!” Frenchie exclaimed, smiling brightly at you. It was contagious, really, and you found yourself smiling along with him.

“Yeah, it’s easy to get caught up with the crowd in here,” you chuckled, tension leaving your body with every second spent being in Frenchie’s presence. You don’t know what you would’ve done if you had to spend one more second mingling with these upper class gits.

“Tell me about it! I never knew these snobs could be so energetic,” he admitted with a sigh, and now you could see the exhaustion that had begun to slow his movements down. You hummed in response, your eyes flicking to the side as you caught an Englishwoman approaching the two of you in your peripheral vision. You were quick to grab Frenchie’s hands in response, pulling him in the opposite direction and easily transitioning into a slower dance in order to prevent the two of you from getting dragged apart again. He let out a small yelp of surprise from the action, but didn’t pull away or protest as you guided him away from any prying hands.

You were both silent for a moment while you focused on getting into the rhythm, but before long, you had looked up and made eye contact with him, causing the two of you to burst out into stifled laughter; laughter from the absolute insanity of your situation. “You’re not a bad dancer, if I do say so myself,” Frenchie grinned, promptly stepping on your foot and immediately gasping out an apology as he did. You winced a bit, but laughed it off when you caught sight of his guilty expression, his lip pouted as it usually was.

“Thank you! It doesn’t seem you’ve gotten the hang of it though, eh?” You joked, continuing to lead him in the half-ballroom style the majority of the partygoers had adopted. It was so easy with Frenchie, despite his slightly messy footwork: easier than it had been with the first woman you danced with.

“Oh, fuck off, will you?” Frenchie retorted, smacking your arm lightly. A warm laugh bubbled up from your chest again, and you were unable to fight the bright smile that stretched across your face. You debated spinning Frenchie away from you for his little comment, but when you went to see if there was room behind him for the maneuver, you paused very suddenly and caused Frenchie to stumble.

“Wh-? What’d you do that for?” He whined, following your gaze as he looked over his shoulder. You were both suddenly frozen in place, realizing you had made it to the other side of the room with your antics. The two of you stared in disbelief for a moment, trying to figure out how you had even ended up here–if you even wanted to leave–before a loud shout resounded behind you: “There they are! Get them!”

Dread filled both of you, slowly turning around to see the two men that were chasing you earlier, and then slowly turning to look at each other. The moment you made eye contact, you bolted forwards and out of the ballroom with the two men in tow again.

Through the marbled front foyer and out the grand double doors, you two left the beach-side building sprinting, laughing and shouting as the men tried to give chase behind you. You both stumbled onto the beach, Frenchie momentarily losing his footing in the soft sand before you pulled him back up to his feet and continued running. The cool ocean breeze was like heaven on your skin, cooling you down from the stuffy interior of that stupid ballroom.

When you reached the rocky shoreline, Frenchie almost leapt into the rowboat hidden behind a larger formation of rocks, despite the men having stopped chasing as you ran onto the beach. You were both still giggling at the whole interaction, not even noticing that the bottom of your outfit was getting wet as you clumsily pushed the rowboat out and hopped in yourself.

You both lay in the small dinghy for a moment, exhausted but entertained, as you attempted to catch your breath. “Fuckin’ mental,” you mumbled, leaning your head back and over the side of the rowboat. Frenchie hummed quietly in response, and when you sat up to look at him, he looked like he was on the verge of passing out; his eyes were firmly shut and his limbs splayed out across some of the benches, but his lips were still slanted upwards in a small, soft smile.

You shook your head with a light chuckle, taking off your mask and fully sitting up, adjusting your position so you could start paddling back to the Revenge, which was anchored a little ways off the coast. It was late now: the sun had begun to dip below the horizon line and painted everything in a brilliant orange light. Backdropped against the fading sun, the Revenge looked even more magnificent than usual.

Frenchie called your name quietly, and your eyes moved back to him to see that he had straightened up a bit and his mask had been removed as well. “Pass the bag here, yeah?” He mumbled, his movements sluggish as he extended a hand out with a grabbing motion. You snickered and stopped rowing for a moment, reaching your hand behind your back to untie the bag from your belt. In a few moments, the small bag was in Frenchie’s hands, and he was eagerly digging through it like a kid on Christmas.

He went through the pouch of assorted jewelry, pulling out a few different accessories to examine before dumping them back in. There was a surplus of pearl necklaces, of which he promptly ignored. Finally, he caught a glimpse of a bejeweled necklace and pulled it from the bag, studying it carefully in his hands. The gems that adorned the necklace were bright and beautifully cut, reflecting the orange light of the sunset in every which way.

It wasn’t long before he lifted the necklace up to his neck and made some smug expression, turning his nose up in an exaggerated manner. “Why, I can’t believe you’d disrespect me so!” Frenchie croaked, his voice a bit hoarse as he strained to talk in an octave above his usual tone. “Do you not know who I am? I am Zippery Von Sweets the sixth! I-”

You had already been fighting laughter for the entirety of his impression, but as soon as he had uttered that ridiculous name, you cut the rest of his impression off and started cackling. Watching you doubling over, Frenchie joined in soon thereafter and threw his head back as you both laughed, the action rocking the boat slightly.

To say tonight was a success would be an understatement.

End. <3

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