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ethereal-night-fairy · 4 months

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Mistletoe Kisses

Poly!141 x GN reader

Let's see which one of the boys can get the most kisses from you during this Christmas season.

This a continuation of the little drabble I did about Poly!141. Comment below if you want a second part to this. Enjoy! 💗

Part 3 Sleepy - pre poly ask

Words: 1.1k

Masterlist

Warning: None just fluff and kissing.

The base has been weird for the last couple of weeks. It's unfortunate that not many people were given permission to leave and spend time with their families this holiday season. You and taskfore 141 had an upcoming mission to leave for right after New Year's day so everyone was stuck on base preparing. You've tried your best to liven everyone's spirits by decorating the common room and mess hall with lights and a Christmas tree. You had even managed to jokingly put some mistletoe in strategic places to get some of the recruits laughing. It was a little joy and laughter in an otherwise shitty situation. Gaz and Soap seemed to be having a great old time utilising the mistletoe every chance they get. It was endearing to see that they had such a close friendship.

Your friends back home were like that too. Kissing and hugging each other for laughs. It was quite nostalgic to witness it on base. You've seen The Captain and your lieutenant having fun with the mistletoe too. Giving each other kisses on the cheek or forehead. They did the same when they caught anyone else from the taskforce underneath it. You've been extra careful not to loiter around it. Though Soap and Gaz have tried but you just ended up scurring off before they could pull you underneath it. The base seemed a lot more festive and full of joy and were glad the effort you put into everything was paying off.

You had managed to also get small gifts for everyone, even the new additions to the base. It wasn't anything special, just small little gifts of sweets and chocolates. Though you did splurge a little with your teammates getting Price his favourite cigars and Ghost his favourite bottle of bourbon. With Soap and Gaz you were more playful with your gifts. Soap was going to receive some scotch and a scotch glass with the Scottish flag on in. You know since he's so patriotic. Gaz was a little harder to shop for but you ended up settling on hand knitted jumper. He had mentioned to you that his nan used to gift him one every Christmas. So an idea popped into your head to knit him the most god awful jumper anyone has ever seen. It was a poor looking jumper but you had tried your best. You wanted it to look tacky but in a cute way. Though you severely overestimated your knitting skills. It did look tacky but also poorly made. Who knew knitting would be so hard? You also got him his favourite alcohol. Hopefully by the time he opened your gift the alcohol would make it look a lot nicer than it was. Everything was prettily packaged and put under the captain's tree in his office.

You place the last of the dinner prep in the fridge. Everything was seasoned and marinated. All you had to do tomorrow was put everything in the oven and make the gravy and sides. You were glad the guys were warming up to you. For the longest time it felt like you were intruding on the tight knit group of theirs. They were very affectionate to each other more so than any other group you've seen. It made sense that they were cautious about you in the beginning. But recently you feel much closer to them. They were beginning to show you the same affection they reserved for each other. It was a surprise the first time Gaz had engulfed you in a bear hug after a mission had gone wrong. You both had barely made it out alive. Since that scare you felt they paid more attention to you. They always seemed to be on high alert when on missions with you. The casual hugs and pats were received more frequently now. They even started flirting with you like they did with each other.

You'd brush it off as military humour. A lot of the recruits did that too, it was nothing new. So you didn't really mind when their hands would linger jokingly while moving you to get something. Or when someone tried flirting with you at a bar one of them always had their arms wrapped around you. They also liked pinning you down during sparring sessions. They would laugh at you when you couldn't escape their hold. It was really frustrating sometimes. Then again, hand to hand combat wasn't your strong suit. But it was all fun and games between teammates so no harm done. The only thing that was getting a bit much was them trying to kiss you under the mistletoe. They were treating it as a competition. One you didn't want part in considering they probably made a bet on it. They did these stupid bets quite often since getting closer to you. You shake your head as you go to get ready for bed. You had an early start tomorrow.

You slide into your warm covers happy and content looking forward to the next day.

“How have none of us managed to get at least one kiss from them?”, Gaz huffs as he sits on the captain's desk. Price caresses his hips and thighs as he goes over the plan of the upcoming mission.

“You muppets probably scared them off”, He blows out a puff of smoke from his cigar as Gaz moves away from him annoyed.

“It doesn't help that they know where all the mistletoe is placed”, Ghost comments as walks behind Price's chair as he discusses his formation and position for the stakeout.

“Aye we only have till tomorrow. We should move the mistletoe”, Soap offers as he inspected the wrapped presents under Price's tree. Gaz comes up behind him smacking his head when he catches him trying to open his. “Come on then let's go move the mistletoe while they're asleep”, Gaz drags Soap by the arm who's rubbing his head. They leave to change the locations of the mistletoe you had placed at the start of the month.

“Sometimes I wonder how they managed to pass selection”, Ghost murmeres under his breath, managing to get chuckle from his Captain.

“Did you wrap the present we all got them?”, Price inquiries while writing something down on the file.

“It's under the tree with the rest of them….Do you think they'll like it?”, Ghost asks eyeing his Captain and lover. Price looks up from his file with a twinkle in his sapphire eyes.

“we'll find out won't we?”, He gives Simon his warmest smile, before giving him a tender kiss when he bends down.

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maxknightley · 8 months

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if elaine benes and george costanza ever decided to fight each other here's how I think it would go down.

george plans for a frontal assault, so he rents a bunch of bruce lee movies in the hopes that watching them will teach him how to fight. he ultimately gets bored halfway through the first one, decides "eh that's probably enough," and watches a bunch of old looney tunes shorts instead.

elaine, meanwhile, tries to play mind games. she starts hanging out with george's parents and gradually worms her way into their life, with the end goal of becoming a better son than he is. for obvious reasons, this backfires: frank and estelle start driving her insane, while george is thrilled to have them off his back.

"it's amazing, jerry! they never call, they never criticize me, they don't pressure me into coming over... it's like I don't even exist to them anymore! I've finally achieved my boyhood dream!"

unable to hang out with either of them alone lest the other accuse him of "picking a side," and unable to convince them to make peace, jerry finds himself spending time exclusively with his current girlfriend and kramer, usually both at once. at first he's worried that she'll either fall for kramer or grow sick of him, but miraculously, the previously-rocky relationship only grows stronger. jerry ultimately ends up paying kramer to be his professional wingman - though most of his "salary" comes in the form of the enormous meals kramer purchases whenever the trio goes out for dinner.

("you don't even eat half of it! you always have to get a box!" "I'm planning ahead, Jerry. this gravy train can't last forever, but in six months, I'll still be living large on leftover tiramisu and strip steak!")

ultimately, the appointed date arrives. george, realizing he's wasted the past two weeks and has no chance of victory, uses the only combat technique he can think of: convincing kramer to show up as well, and wearing a loud shirt, a cheap wig, and a bandolier of take-out boxes to try to confuse elaine. The gambit succeeds, ultimately culminating in elaine beating kramer to a pulp; once she's finished, her anger is quelled, and she and george make up.

jerry and his girlfriend, forced to eat dinner alone for the first time in several days, spend the night together in icy silence. ultimately, they decide on a mutual break-up; "the relationship just didn't make sense without kramer. where is he, anyway?"

kramer (hipsterii doofus) flees a stray dog (canis devourus), who has caught the scent of his vast assortment of take-out.

#seinfeld #original the content

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gachagon · 2 months

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This is big spoilers for the commercials in the Awayfrompryingeyes website on the Welcome Home site.

I've been saying since DAY 1 that Eddie Dear was going to be one of the most important Neighbors to pay attention too, aside from Julie, Frank, and Sally. And this update just practically confirmed it, I had this long running suspicion about Eddie Dear, and it's that I think he was one of the first besides Wally to gain sentience in a way.

I know most people believe Wally was the one who "woke" up first essentially and was able to see the reality of what they were actually living in, but I think Eddie Dear was the first of Wally's friends to actually wake up. My reasoning for this is that Eddie's "backstory" on the neighborhood page is so vague and strange compared to the other neighbors. He's the ONLY one who doesn't remember where he came from, and we see routinely throughout these updates that he's kind of the odd man out a lot of the times.

And that's not totally unusual for a kids show, but there's something about Eddie that just points to him being a lot different from the other puppets. Like that he's also the only one who's able to actually tell what time it is, as he's the only neighbor with a real watch.

And he really REALLY wants to fit so badly into the world of Welcome Home that he sticks to his job as a mailman as much as he can. But even looking at his interactions with the others, you can tell he's not quite playing the role he's been set as perfectly.

I don't think Home (the house) had anything to do with Eddie waking up, I actually think it was a combination of Eddie just not being able to mesh well with the part he has to play and the other characters breaking his routine without asking him. The moment that really shakes him is when he can hear the Narrator say "And Eddie Dear was happy." and i think that's because he really doesn't know if he is happy or not. Home is still strange because its obviously the one thing that Eddie fixates on when he first gains sentience, but I don't think its what shook him out of just being a puppet only.

Eddie is also so obviously playing along with the idea of Homewarming and doesn't actually know much about it. But he's not letting the others know this, as when he's alone is when he tells himself to just "focus on the festivities" instead of the other confusing parts of Homewarming. When he's with Poppy decorating the tree (with turkey...? and gravy...?) He just makes it seem like what they're doing is a no brainer, and something everyone does during the holidays.

But when he starts spiraling at the party, all of the things he helped decorate look strange and confusing to him. He can't focus on anything, staring into the wallpaper makes it seem worse, and the fabric of his own reality is literally being ripped at the seams (there's just an excessive amount of video tearing which I equate to Eddie's sense of sanity at the moment and just how present he really is)

It's here that Eddie finally realizes just what they're doing, and what everything really truly looks like. Eddie even tries to focus solely on Frank's face to sort of ground him, but the goddamned credits for the episode itself is playing over Frank's face and obscuring his vision. The scene itself wants to move on but Eddie is still able to see what the audience normally wouldn't be able too, and that split from his reality to ours is what makes him freak out in the end.

#welcome home update #welcome home #happy homewarming #welcome home theory #eddie dear #welcome home spoilers

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lialacleaf · 9 months

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Simon Riley X Reader: Domestic Headcanons: Baking

Warnings: Simon misses his Mum :c, fluffy

Pt.2

Simon has very few fond memories of his family but he remembers how his Mum used to cook during the holidays, and would always involve him in the food prep to distract him from his Dad's foul mood.

After losing his family, cooking just isn't the same without his Mum, and even if he isn't on a mission he tries to avoid being in the kitchen because it just aches for him.

But then you come along, working on base under Laswell and Simon constantly hears you fiddling around in the kitchen. He avoids investigating like the plague for the first few weeks but eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him.

He finds you covered in flour in mid-October, making a pumpkin pie crust from scratch, and has to just stand there for a moment and watch in befuddlement as you swear at the bowl you just tipped over.

There's something bubbling on the stove, and you're too distracted to notice that your simmer pot is going to boil over. You've got a mix of orange and lemon slices with diced apple and cinnamon sticks. It's just like how his Mum used to make them.

The click of the stove dial has you jumping, having not noticed the shadowy figure of Ghost slipping into the kitchen.

"Heat's too high," he says, and you blink at him in confusion before understanding settles on your pretty face.

"Shoot! I...forgot to turn that down when I..." you gestured awkwardly to the bowl of flour and he tilts his masked chin downwards at you.

You give him an awkward smile before returning to the task of making your dough.

He doesn't leave immediately, just watches you struggle a bit with kneading the dough before he huffs and yanks his gloves off, pushing you to the side as he surprises you by properly kneading the dough, and laying it in the pie pan perfectly.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as you finish making the filling, and add it to the pie crust.

You can hardly believe that you're baking a pie with Lieutenant Ghost. You shrug it off however and pull two mugs from the cupboard, filling them both with the contents of your pot, however, when you turn around to offer him one, he's already gone.

The second time you're in the kitchen making apple turnovers for your co-worker's birthday, the window is open for you to enjoy an early November rainy day, and you're in your coziest pair of socks.

You almost don't recognize him, jumping at the sight of the tall blonde man who has materialized out of thin air to peel your apples. His eyes peek at you over the top of a black surgical mask, and you feel your heart stop, then start up again with a disjointed stutter as you take in the familiar chocolatey color.

He doesn't say anything, just peels the apples until the bag is empty. You reach for the last one and realize there's no Leuitenant to be seen.

The third time he joins you you're trying to perfect your gravy recipe. Most of the base's inhabitants have gone home for the holidays, but the few that have remained are planning a Thanksgiving potluck.

"You're still here." He actually makes you jump.

"Couldn't afford plane tickets for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and I'm not missing my Dad's pumpkin log and hot cocoa," you explain

He hums softly, leaning against the counter as he examines your cheese biscuits.

Your eyes widen slightly when you see him pull the surgical mask down just enough to take a large bite of the biscuit he nabbed off the tray.

You're greeted with the sight of a sharp jaw and full lips, and you quickly pull your eyes away, focusing on the gravy in your pot.

Something doesn't taste quite right, and you frown softly. Ghost leans over to take a deep whiff, bumping your shoulder in the process.

"You added salt?"

You offer him a deadpan expression.

"Scoot," he orders, pushing you aside and fishing a spoon out of the drawer. He nods to himself after a taste and proceeds to add a hefty helping of rosemary.

You try not to think about the fact that you've never seen his face before now as you try his concoction. It's not bad. "Where'd you learn how to cook, Ghost?"

He stares deeply at you for a few seconds, before he sets the spoon in the sink. "My Mum."

He leaves you after that, and you doubt you're going to see him at the potluck.

You don't see him in the kitchen again until December, and you're baking snickerdoodles to leave the boys with when you return to your family.

He's avoided the kitchen for a few weeks, and you're strangely relieved to see him lurking there.

"Wanted to give you this before you left."

He holds out a carefully wrapped package, and you accept it with a dumbfounded expression. He's out the door again before you've even thanked him.

A few days later you're sitting in the armchair of your parents' house, a pile of unwrapped presents at your feet as you carefully tear away the paper concealing the Leuitenant's gift. You're greeted with the sight of an old leather-bound book, one filled with handwritten recipes you realize upon closer inspection and an elegant Mrs. Riley engraved on the front page.

You have a feeling Ghost will be joining you in the kitchen more often. Maybe even Simon.

AN: Requests are always open!

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 6 months

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Today I rewatched all of season 2 with a friend who hadn't had the chance to see it, and it's really true that if the pacing seemed off to you as it aired, try watching it altogether. It flows so well when you're not spending a week in between episodes hyping up theories and over-analyzing throwaway lines.

The rewatch hammered home how lucky I feel to have this show! It's so good, friends. I'm so incredibly grateful we got this show.

Some of the little things that I didn't appreciate on first watch that I just adored on a rewatch:

How well Archie and Zheng Yi Sao are immediately integrated into our cast. They had limited time and their writing is really cleverly done to endear us to them immediately.

Every Buttons and Auntie interaction, absolute gold

Surprisingly (for me), Ed and Izzy's interactions in the first two eps. It's just so terminally unhinged. The way Izzy says he "has love" for Ed like he's ashamed of it, like how you have a sickness. "Do you think I wouldn't know the smell of my own rotting former first mate?" The way Ed handed Izzy a gun to try to get him to shoot Ed, but Izzy tried to shoot himself instead and was symbolically reborn. It's good shit.

The Gravy Basket scenes really rewards a rewatch. Try to pick up on clues something's up before Ed realizes, it's great fun.

The way Stede's devotion to Ed is immediately palpable.

Ed and Stede are so soft and cute for each other dear lord. just gets better and better.

The musical choices are top notch, especially in those first three episodes. The sound design in general is exceptional.

The way this show is shot, dear lord. There is so much care in every shot, it doesn't look like a basic TV show.

Every actor in this show is giving it their all. Rhys and Taika are phenomenal, of course, but Con is amazing, Matt Maher makes me love Black Pete more with every rewatch, David Fane is perfect, and Samba Schutte is so incredible. Roach doesn't have a lot this season but Samba gives every line 110%.

Such! A! Good! Show!! If you didn't like the pacing on first watch, take my word for it, try a rewatch.

#ofmd #our flag means death

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fourmoony · 7 months

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𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟐)

james potter x f!reader

fluff. 1.4k

Summary: James, Sirius, and Remus are bested by Hope.

part 1 - part 3 - part 4 - masterlist

...

James is standing in the middle of the chaos surrounding your living room.

You’re just short of thirty seconds through the front door – the majority of which you spent kicking off your shoes and setting them on the shoe rack – and already, you miss the inside of the potion’s lab. You’ve been there all day, daydreaming about being at home. But now. Now, you wish you’d stayed behind with Lily. She’s high maintenance, sure. She’s bossy and full on about it because she’s currently heading the Order’s potion’s labs all over the country – she’s stressed. But Lily Evans is nowhere near as high maintenance as your boyfriend and his friends.

This, you should have known.

Remus and Sirius are bickering loudly over the sound of Hope’s high-pitched screaming. Remus is holding Hope, arms outstretched and a concerned look on his face, like he’s hesitant to have her near her in her current state. He looks panicked. Sirius is trying to strong arm your daughter into a nappy, but she’s kicking her legs so violently that you know he has no hope. He mutters something at Remus, but his voice is cheery and soothing – you suppose in attempt to keep Hope from getting any more violent. Remus huffs and tries lifting your screaming baby up, then down, as if bouncing her. She only cries more.

There are crumpled nappies scattered across the floor and a small bag of what you assume is used wipes – you’re thankful that at least those have been disposed of in a clean way. The fire is roaring, covered by the grate, and the room is far too warm – even for the middle of January. There are bright coloured toys on every surface and a kid’s broom taking up space on the single armchair nearest the kitchen. There’re half drunken milk bottles on the coffee table and half a jar of mashed potato and gravy puree, the spoon of which is sitting on a coaster, still covered in mush.

James’ eyes snap up the minute he nears your shaky intake of breath, and everything stops. His hands are full of a mix of crumpled nappies and baby toys, and his eyes are wide. His hair is messier than usual, a clear sign that he’s been running his hands through it in a fit of stress.

“Hey,” James breathes.

Remus and Sirius have frozen like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. You bypass your boyfriend, eyes narrowed at Remus, who turns from Sirius and thrusts Hope toward you. You take her and immediately, she quiets. You hold her to your chest, hand gently rubbing the back of her head. Remus and Sirius physically release, both letting out a deep breath. James closes his eyes, enjoys the silence for a moment.

“James, pick up the nappies. Outside bin,” You point at James, and he springs into action, nodding enthusiastically, “Remus, toys in the box,” You point to the pink box Sirius made Hope that rests to the right of the fireplace, “Sirius, wash the bottles, and bin the puree.”

The three men spring into action around you while you mentally thank Lily for being so bossy and rubbing off on you. Hope is making quiet noises against your collar bone, and you melt. She’s ten months now, crawling and babbling non-stop It’s been challenging, balancing your work in the potion’s lab with James’ order missions whilst still being able to spend time with Hope together. James is absolutely positive she’s defying nature and biology and growing too fast. But you don’t mind. You’re in constant awe of your daughter and all the milestones she makes. You’d never admit it, but you cried the first time she crawled.

“Hey, sweet girl.” You mumble, lips pressed to Hope’s head.

Her hair is growing fast and dark. There’s enough to put in pigtails, now. She doesn’t have any in today. Simply because James cannot comprehend the idea of a hair tie. Hope tilts her head, bright blue eyes no longer filled with tears, but with wonder. It’s been seven months of being her mum, and your breath still hitches every time she looks at you with that babied wonderment, with that unwavering love and trust. She’s so beautiful, a gift you wonder every day what you ever did to deserve.

“She’s been a moody little witch, today,” Remus comments, launching crinkle books and teddy bears into the pink trunk as he walks around the room.

“She’s teething, I think.” You tell him.

You shift hope in your arms and reach for her nappy bag that’s been abandoned by the doorway into the living room. She wriggles a little when you set her down onto the changing table under the window – the changing table James has said he’ll take upstairs a million times and never has – but settles when you start to hum softly. With a clean nappy and a fresh set of pyjamas, Hope is a different baby. She’s calm and quiet, pliant in your arms when you lift her again to cradle her. Her eyes blink slowly, tiny lips pouted.

James and Sirius return at the same time, the latter wiping down a fresh bottle with a tea towel, collecting any spillage. He turns it over, dropping a bit on his wrist before passing it over, “Perfect temperature.”

“Thanks,” You sit on the suite – now void of any and all toys – and hold the bottle to Hope’s lips.

She takes it greedily and you smile. James presses a kiss to your head before taking a seat beside you both. His hand rests on your thigh, his attention taken by your little girl. Sirius takes a seat on the floor in front of you both, a gentle finger running up and down the bottom of Hope’s foot. She wriggles, gives his hand a little kick and he laughs. Sirius has been obsessed with Hope since the minute he saw her. He’s the best uncle. He spoils Hope beyond belief and loves her as fiercely as you and James do.

Remus required a little convincing. He loves Hope. It’s obvious in the way he reads to her, in the soft voice he uses when he talks to her. But he’s hesitant. Sirius reckons it’s because he’s scared of hurting her with his heavy hands and lanky limbs. You know he never could. He’s sitting across the room, twirling the toy broom in his hands while he sits in the armchair.

“You better not have put her on that broom, Sirius.” You warn the boy at your feet.

He makes grabby hands for Hope now that she’s settled, and you pass her over gently before relaxing against James. Sirius stands slowly, carefully, and makes his way over to Remus, sitting down at his feet instead. They enter their own world, softly cooing at Hope and watching her as she drinks the milk. Remus runs a gentle hand over the top of her head, and another hand across Sirius’ shoulders. You smile.

“Today was hard,” James speaks quietly, fingers playing with yours on your lap.

“I can tell.” You tease.

James huffs a laugh, “I swear it wasn’t even that bad until like, twenty minutes before you got home.”

You know very well James would have tried to keep the house as tidy and calm as possible for as long as possible. He’s a good dad. He’s got a good touch with Hope. She settles with him every time. But he also gets overwhelmed easily.

You eye Sirius and Remus. They’re so calm. So, content.

“I hope they have this, one day.” You whisper, eyes looking up at James.

He’s as beautiful as the day you met him. But he’s older now. There’s stubble on his jaw, a result of his busy schedule. His eyes are a honey hazel that makes you melt, and he turns to look at you with so much love and adoration that you can’t do anything but lean forward and kiss him. His answer is delayed by the wide smile he gives you. But it comes with a faraway look that you assume is a yearning for Sirius and Remus to have everything they could ever dream of.

His fingertips brush up your arm, his warmth encompasses you. You feel content, willing to forget how horrible the world outside your home is.

“I hope so, too, baby.” He mumbles, lips pressed to the crown of your head.

Sirius laughs when Remus flinches because Hope grabs his index finger and hangs on for dear life. They share a smile a second later, and Sirius rests his head on Remus knee, both of them staring down at the beautiful little girl in Sirius’ arms.

“Love you.” You tell James.

He squeezes you, “Love you, too.”

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ghostheartfelt · 9 months

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Hiiii! First of all I hope you're doing well <333 and second omg!! I loved your ghost smut 😭😭 I'm here to request smt if you don't mind, I've requested this before but nobody wanted to write it but feel free to not wrote it too if you don't like the plot but here we go:

Ghost breaks up with reader NOT because he hates her but because his next mission is really hard and dangerous and there was a really slim chance that he'd survive it. So he tries to push reader away to not hurt her feelings but things escalated and they break up but when he comes back from the mission they have make-up sex? 🤭 Thank you for reading all of this and if you can't write it then I understand, thank you for your time and effort 💗

*:･｡☆ a/n: hi anon~ thank you so much for being my first req!!!! And thank u so much for the support. I’m so sorry i took forever to get to this! but you bet ur sweet ass i’ll write this for you?! I hope you enjoy this regardless of how long it took me to get to it. mwah! -ur bbg cure

〔☆〕 desc: ghost is deployed on a mission in bangladesh that price explains as risky and complicated--ghost immediately thinks of you as the possibilities of survival are described as slim. him, gaz, and soap set out back to manchester, and no amount of talk is able to change his mind. he ends things off between the two of you, which arises a depressive state in you before he arrives and makes it up to you completely. (possibly takes place before ten minutes past?…. 👀)

*:･｡☆ tags: p in v, unprotected intercourse, whiny ghost if you squint, hand job if you squint, oral (f receiving), fingering, reader orgasms twice, cock warming, he sleeps with the tip inside<3, this hurt my breeding kink heart, pet names, possessive ghost, breast worship if you squint, break up and make up sex, porn with feelings. SMUTTY SMUT SMUT!!! not too bad, sadly.

—✩ N[EX]T REGRETS ✩—

word count — 4.3k

☆ (peep the song that inspires this writing...) ☆

Your hands are setting two plates on the dinner table; one for you, one for your boyfriend.

He was coming home from deployment—it’d been months since you’d last seen him, you’d lost track.

Silverware wrapped in cloth napkins are set beside the plates before you flick the cog of a lighter and ignite the candles in the middle of the table.

You turn yourself around to grab the cookie sheet of ribeye off of the counter after pushing on mittens, holding it in your palm as you place two steaks down onto one of the plates, then one onto another.

Then you take the tray back to the counter and set it back on top of the table cloth so it didn’t damage the marble.

Regardless of the fancy dinner setup, you were still in a black satin night dress and fuzzy socks. You knew Simon would just dress down himself the moment he got home.

You scooped steamed vegetables onto both plates, then potatoes and gravy with a sprinkle of chives.

When you place down the spineless wine glasses, you hear a heavy door slam causing a smile to crease your face.

Simon was home, he was going to come inside and he was going to hold you again for the first time in months. Run his hands through your hair for the first time in months. Kiss you for the first time in months.

You seat yourself gently on the dinner table, ankle crossed over the other with your elbows bent and palms pressed neatly on the wood as you wait for him to come inside.

You hear the door open, then shut, heavy padded footsteps approaching the threshold of the dining room.

Ghost is the one who comes through the archway—fully geared with the skull mask and helmet, the only thing he lacks is a rifle.

“Simon…?” You push yourself off your palms, confusion whisked on your face.

It was one of your rules, the mask stays off inside your home.

His eyes land on the neatly set table before they reach yours.

You approach him slowly and he tenses, your eyebrows stitching together in concern.

His stomach twists inside of him.

Gorgeous minx.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Beautiful perfection.

He couldn’t say anything he wanted to—and god he had so much to say.

Your eyes flicker to the windows alongside the front door seeing two other bodies.

Armed bodies.

He wasn’t staying.

“Can you all stay for dinner atleast? I made enough for everyone…” you smile softly while fumbling with the straps of his vest.

Stop touching me, you’re making this harder on me. Ghost swallows the knot in his throat.

There’s a pause before Ghost backs up.

“There’s someone else.”

It’s a lie, it’s a lie. It’s such a lie. Ghost

Something inside your chest tightens and you swear that it’s your heart.

“What?…” You scoff lightly, your eyebrows pinching together in disbelief.

Don’t make me say it again. Ghost inhales sharply.

“Simon…” you tilt your head slightly, extending your hand to touch him.

“Please, let me try to be better for you, give me a chance…” your lips quiver.

You don’t need to try and be better for me. Ghost thinks.

He knew you’d been reading articles on how to be in a relationship with someone in the special forces—he’d found out and closed the lid, sat you in his lap and kissed you so softly, telling you that you were perfect for him and you didn’t need an article to tell you how to love him.

But you know it’s real when Ghost jerks his shoulder away.

You know it’s real when you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as tears start welling in your eyes.

You know it’s real when Ghost’s eyes evade yours.

You know it’s real when Simon turns around and he doesn’t spare you a goodbye.

You especially know it’s real when the door slams shut and rattles the walls around you.

It’s surreal, but you expected this.

He must’ve found someone on base, you thought.

You feel your knees give in beneath you, and you’re met with the floor.

A hysterical sobbed scream leaves your throat as your trembling hand lifts to drag down at your lips.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

Ghost stands for a moment on the doormat outside of your home.

Gaz’s hand finds a place on his back, the other holding his vest as he guides the larger male towards the truck they’d arrived in.

“Didn’t have to do that, Ghost.” He says, followed by a sigh.

“Did.” Ghost replies back as he seats himself in the back. “Wasn’t lettin’ her get my dog tags—she’s been through enough bein’ with me.”

Soap turns his head over his shoulder after sitting in the front passenger seat.

“Ay, L.T, we all know y’ll make it back t’ya pretty lass.” He says. “Y’r one of we bes’ fighters, ain’t that righ’, Kyle?” Soap’s elbow bumped into Gaz’s ribs.

Gaz utters a strained noise before nodding, hands wrapping around the wheel.

“‘M not takin’ that risk, now shu’up ‘n drive. Cap’s gon’ ‘b pissy enough.”

His head turns to look out the window as he feels the wheels of the truck roll down the driveway.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

It’s been seven months. Two-hundred-thirteen days.

All you do is work, eat, and sleep.

Eating, not as much as you should.

You couldn’t cook, couldn’t get yourself up from your bed the second you got home from work to start the stove.

You either sleep all day or not at all, there wasn’t a balance.

God, your living room was disgusting. Snot tissues were littered across the entire coffee table, empty champagne glasses, crusted food plates and crushed soda cans.

You’d resorted to hiring a maid just to clean your living room—which was the only room you stayed in for five months straight while your depression started getting progressively worse.

You lay on your side with a weighted blanket draped over you, holding you down comfortably.

Simon stayed in your head, even after half of a year. He invaded your head. It drove you insane.

At the same time, you were scared of the day that he wouldn’t be your first and last thought each and every day anymore.

You bunch the blanket closer to your chin, your wet eyes have drenched the little area to hell.

Things just have never been the same since Simon left the house–-you still happened to feel his presence next to you, hovering over you.

“There’s someone else.” His words settled an uneasy weight on your shoulders that you still were unable to shake off.

A splutter of sobs escapes you once again, tears blurring your vision as they fall and your nose starts to clog.

You try to breathe in, but you feel as though there’s not enough air around you. You breaking into a coughing fit is enough for you to push the weighted blanket off of your body and heave yourself up.

Spit and drool creates several small strings between your lips–you’re practically foaming at the mouth from how hard you’re crying.

Tears flutter off your eyelashes and further blur your vision, so you try and rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms desperately.

You stand up wobbly and start towards the bathroom, you didn’t have the energy to walk the extra couple of steps into your bedroom to use your own bathroom, so the guest bathroom would have to do for now.

You turn the shower knob and pull it out towards you after undressing, then step into the warmth and sink onto the shower floor, hugging your knees to your bare chest and letting the water run over your face.

Sobs cause your body to twitch and jerk, the heat in your eyes making your eyes burn as your breathing grows unsteady over the stream of water above you.

You just wanted him home.

But, he wasn’t yours to want home anymore.

He wasn’t yours to crave anymore or to love.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

A door slams so hard air causes the fabric of his shirt to flail in the wind.

Ghost had spent months struggling with the actions of his decision, where he had hoped that the choice would break you free of your shackles of worries when it came to the blonde when he was away.

He spent every night and every rising morning worrying someone would take his place. It would’ve been his fault, he knew that, and it made him want to scream at the top of his lungs until they felt raw in his chest.

He presses the lock button on his keys, hearing the locks inside the jeep click, then he jumbles with his keychain looking for the house key.

Ghost’s hands are shaking as he pinches the specific key and jabs it into the door lock, turning it.

When he hears the all-familiar click, he immediately pulls off his balaclava and pushes himself through the front door.

There’s silence–pure silence throughout the house except for the sound of running water.

She’s showering.

A short amount of relief washes over him as he bends to untie the laces of his boots, placing them aside.

When he stands, his eyes scan over to the living room and he feels his heart sink in him at the sight of the absolute mess made of the living room.

An overflowing laundry basket and take-out boxes that made the room stink of old fried rice.

He throws his bag behind him against the wall before he walks himself towards the pile of laundry and begins pulling out shirts and pairs of pants to fold against his knee.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

You took a two hour shower, most of it being of you shredding any form of emotion from your body that you could.

Now you were sitting on the fur-covered toilet seat, running your lotion-coated hands along your freshly shaven legs.

You told yourself you would try going to a club to replenish your sex deprivation.

Steam finally clears from the mirror allowing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your hands pull the towel off your head, wet hairs sticking to your shoulders.

The bathroom smelt of your coconut milk shampoo and body wash–it smelt divine.

You thumb up your white laced bra and panties, plug in the blow dryer and scrunch your mop in your hands as you wave the blow dryer over your hair.

It seems like hours, being only nearly ten minutes until your hair is somewhat dry, but your arms are tired, so you unplug the dryer and wrap the cord around it.

You leave the bathroom and walk back into the living room, pausing in motion at the sight of it being clean–your laundry being neatly folded on the coffee table.

“Kris? Is that you?” You call, not too loudly.

She had a key to your home, but she had stated she wouldn’t be available this week due to some personal reasons she wasn’t required to go over with you.

You walk over towards the couch and drag your hand along the cotton material.

There was no reply to your call, which concerned you. You hadn't contacted any of your family members to come visit.

You slowly turn yourself around and the breath is practically stolen from your lungs.

Simon’s standing across the room from you, clad in a black t-shirt and jeans, a belt secured in the front.

You watch his eyes drag up and down your exposed body, watching as he inhales sharply while his eyes narrow.

“Love,” He mumbles.

Your eyebrows furrow and you lift your neck up. “Why–why are you here?” “Will y’let me explain?” He sighs.

“Does she know?” You reply quickly with a shaky voice.

“Does wh–”

“Does she know you are here, Simon.”

There's silence, then he licks his dry lips.

“There is no she.” He says flatly.

“No,” you scoff, running a hand down your face, eyes darting to the side as you listen to him walk closer toward you. “No…no. No–I remember specifically…” your angry, now.

Simon catches your lips in a firm kiss, but you push him away, and the look in his eyes makes your chest ache.

“Please,” Simon’s eyebrows pinch together.

“Stop, just stop.” You seethe, pressing your finger into the midsection of his chest making him back up some. “You said there was someone else, you said–”

“I was lyin’, there wasn’t.” He pauses, frowning.

“Bullshit,” you shake your head. “Fucking bullshit, Simon Riley!”

“Let m’talk.” Simon says gruffly, his tone stern.

You swallow thickly and lower your head in defeat after nodding, finger lifting so you can chew on your cuticle bed.

“I…I let a debriefing get t’me. Said there wasn’t much’a chance of survival–can’t say much, y’know that…but I didn’t want y’to have to go through that.” He explains.

His hand reaches down to lift your chin, thumbing at any stray tears making their way down your cheeks. “Forgive me, lovie.” Simon leans down to close the gap between you both again, this time you submit and his hand cradles the back of your head.

The kiss is slow and passionate–gentle with its hints of dominance.

“Missed you…” He mumbles over your lips, hands finding your ass to knead the supple skin.

You gasp slightly, but cave in to his touch instantly. “And I missed you…”

“Please…never do that again.”

His forehead rests on yours a moment, fingers toying in your hair by rolling pieces between his fingers.

“‘M sorry.” He murmurs.

He wasn’t the type to apologize, you knew that. His apologies were sincere and meaningful.

Your hands grip his shirt.

“Over half a year, Simon…” Your voice is so low, you couldn’t even call it a whisper. “This whole time…”

“I know…I know…” He mutters into your hair, taking in your scent.

“Will y’let me make it up to ya, love?” Hot breath rakes over the side column of your neck.

You simply nod, and that’s all enough for him to pick you up by your thighs and for you to wrap your legs around his waist and rut against him.

He guides you both into your bedroom, seating you on the edge of the bed.

“So fuckin’ sexy when y’r half-naked ‘n angry…” Simon chuckles dryly as he drags a finger up your clothed cunt.

“Simon…please…” you mumble into his shoulder.

“I’ve got’ya, gorgeous.” He says cooly while laying you flat on the bed.

Simon slips his fingers past your panties, his cock twitching in his pants at the feeling of your wetness spreading along his fingers.

“Ffff..uck, babe, you're so wet for me ‘lready…” he whispers.

You gasp as his finger slips up and down between your folds, making you twitch as he passes your throbbing clit.

“So fuckin’ divine…” he purrs above you, eyes full of love and lust. His other hand finds a place on your thigh, squeezing the flesh as he works at your warmth.

You whine, watching as his teeth bite at the lace lining of your panties, pulling them down as his eyes don’t stray from yours.

“Oh…fuck…” you bite your lip gently, the action making you fanny flutter to the point of aching.

“Jesus…” he breathes against your thigh, pressing his lips along the skin and sucking it until he’s satisfied with the markings.

Simon scoops up both of your legs by the crooks of your knees, spreading them apart as he shifts down to rest his knees on the ottoman spread across the end of the bed.

A shuddered moan releases from you as his tongue prods at the hole in your cunt, then drags up to swirl around your sensitive bud.

Your hand grabs a tight hold in his hair, making him groan against your core and increase the pressure and sensation in your stomach.

A whimper leaves your throat as he sucks and laps at your pussy, making you buck into his jaw.

“Jus’ like that, baby,” he growls onto you, pressing a wet kiss onto your clit. “Y’gon cum all over m’face like a good girl?”

You mewl and cry out as Simon slips a finger inside, your back arching and thighs jerking.

“Simon!” You gasp loudly as your fingers dig into his back over his shirt.

His tongue drags flatly up your cunt, collecting all your juices—he’s practically drinking you.

Another finger pushes inside gently, curling inside that same spot he’s able to find so effortlessly each time that makes you go wild.

“Gon’ c…cum…” you stutter meekly.

“C’mon then,” he urges. “Cum f’r me.”

Simon quickened his pace and the pressure, pumping his fingers in and out, in and out.

Like he was starved, his face presses closer into you, tongue toying at your clit making you twitch against him.

There’s an unbearable heat between your legs as you feel a knot tie in your abdomen when Simon levered his fingers deeper into you.

“Good…” he groans, pressing his tongue inside with his fingers as your walls clamp around him desperately, a strained moan leaving you as your orgasm snaps.

You cum, hard, and grip his shoulders with both hands as his fingers fuck your orgasm back into you before he finally pulls his fingers out to coat your thighs in your climax.

Simon sucks out his work, then spits it back out onto your heat, slapping your pussy and releasing a deep groan.

He licks his fingers clean, his tongue sliding between each finger.

You lift yourself up by gripping his belt, slightly wobbling before his hand finds a spot to rest on your back.

“Fuckin’ hell…cum drunk ‘lready, sweets?” Simon bends down to take your mouth onto his, taking the chance to slip his tongue between your lips when you moan into his.

Gently, you palm his hard cock over his pants, eyes squeezing shut then opening to find your place on his belt and fumble with the buckle.

“Mm—y’find what you were lookin’ f’r?” He pants heavily before his lips trail down your jawline to lick and suck at your neck.

“Oh..fuck…” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin.

“Want you so bad, Si…” you moan, lifting your head to grant him better access. “Want to feel you inside of me.”

He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room while he kicks off his pants that you helped pull down Simon’s hips, lips then coming back down to tease at your collarbones and neck.

“Ooh..ho…you will, don’t y’worry, sweet girl.” His cock sprung free out of the restraints of his boxers, making him groan hoarsely.

Simon’s fingers tap on the outerside of your thigh. “Turn over,” he demands.

You babble out nonsense that is incoherent as you flip on your stomach and one of his hands gather both of your wrists.

He’s on the bed now, between your legs with one hand holding you up by your stomach.

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, lips trailing up your spine.

“Y’want it?” He growls. “Huh?”

He inhales sharply, nudging the tip into your greedy hole. “God…you do…”

“J’s suckin’ me in like th’needy little pet y’are.”

You moan out a chant of pleases, cheek pressing into the comforter of the bed as he arches and positions you to his liking.

“Y’want this thick cock in y’r empty pussy.”

“Yes…” you mumble, backing into him

softly until you take in his entire tip which causes the larger man to apply more pressure into your stomach. “Fuck me, please…please…”

“Oh…Mmm…Such a good girl beggin’ f’r my cock.” Simon praises, letting you bounce on his tip for a few moments.

“Tha’s right baby…jus’ like that…I own this pretty little cunt, don’t I?” He snarls. “Nobody else’s to fuck.”

“Only yours, just yours,” you nod helplessly, earning a positive noise from the man behind you.

He takes in a sharp breath before slowly he inches himself into you farther, stretching you.

Filling you.

You moan loudly, your walls closing around his length making him push out the same noise.

When he bottoms out in you, his tip kissing your cervix, he retracts and ruts back into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as he hisses and breathes harsher at every thrust.

“Oh…” he sighs in ecstasy, releasing your wrists so he can grab the fat on your waist.

“Yes…” he moans, every contact with your hips causing the breath in his mouth to jump and fall.

“Tight little pussy just swallowing me,” Simon hisses through clenched teeth as he painfully yet deliciously stretches you open to his size. “So—fuckin’ sexy.”

“Want y’to cum in me, please…” You gasp, clawing at the comforter as he bucks himself deep into you, filling you up and emptying you, repeating that motion over and over.

“Want me to fill y’with my seed?” He chuckles, a moan interrupting him. “Tha’s what my slutty pet wants?”

“Fucking yes! My god, yes…” you pant, muttering and whining unintelligibly as he slams back into you and makes your ass slap against his thighs.

“Too bad,” he croons.

“Simon…pl..ease..” you moan.

“No…no, I can’t…cum in ya, love. We—we ain’t thinkin’ straight…” Simon’s cock twitches inside of you as he continues ramming his hips into yours, a guttural groan tearing out of him.

“I can feel y’tightenin’ around me, j’s beggin’ to cum around my fat cock…”

“There y’go…Bounce that gorgeous ass on me, j’s how I like it, babe.” Simon strains, hand roughly smacking the skin on your hind.

You squirm against him, making the blonde growl and grab your hips with a bruising grip. “Y’feel me stretchin’ y’r tiny pussy?”

“Mhm? Y’do?” He grunts, heaving above you as he thrusts himself into you. “Fuckin’ take it, filthy fuckin’ minx.”

“Look at you, such a pretty pet, bent to my content…Pussy out on display.”

“Gonna cum, gorgeous, all over your perfect belly.” He mumbles and flips you onto your back.

You moan shamelessly and loudly, whining as he pulls out of you and starts stroking himself while playing with your pussy.

“Fu…u…ck…” his head leans back as you massage his balls and replace his hand. “J’s likeee…that, perfect girl…”

He rubs his middle and pointer finger over your clit at an inhuman pace, making your body jolt and try to push away if it weren’t for his hand holding you roughly in place.

You roll your wrist up and down, pumping his cock in your hand until he takes control again and smacks his tip against your lower abdomen, spilling out his cum onto your stomach with a choke of your name.

Simon’s body twitches, pants and swears rolling off his tongue in a pleading voice as he covers you in his warmth.

“C...C’mon lovie, cum all over my fingers again, let me sss…see y’come undone f’r me again…N…Need to see it…” He stumbles over his words as he comes off his high, an undertone of a whimper in his voice.

It makes you pool, your ego skyrocketing at the fact that you can do that to someone. To him.

Simon’s fingers hit every perfect nerve inside your pulsating cunt, curling and plummeting into the same spot of overwhelming pressure that brought you over the edge.

A tightness coils in your stomach again, and he absolutely fucking loves the strained noises that spill out from you at every rut of his fingers inside of you.

He loves the way he can get you wrung out at every pet name and gentle touch, the way you clamp your thighs together at the smallest motions.

Simon knew your body better than you did, and he fucking loved it. He knew every spot that drove you absolutely mad and every crevice that had the ability to make you beg just how he wanted.

Your eyes shoot open from their half-lidded proportion as Simon finds a certain spot that sends electricity throughout your entire body, making you cry out and dig your nails into his scar-ridden flesh.

“Righ’ there, huh, princess? Righ’ there?” He hisses which drawls out to a throaty growl, hammering that same spot with more pressure. “Couldn’t stand bein’ away fr’m this pussy f’r so long…”

You chant ‘yes’ over and over again until your gasping and panting his name, your breath catching in your throat as you let out a loud cry through your climax, thighs trembling as they slowly close around his forearms in reflex.

He lifts your thighs up again and sits you on his lap as he pulls the covers over the both of you.

“Did s’good for me, lovie. Mmm…S’proud of you, baby.” Simon whispers, catching your lips in a ravenous kiss as he presses his cock inside of your warmth, pushing your climax back into you in a tranquil motion.

“‘M gonna be right back, okay?” You coo against his lips as you swing your legs over the bed, he gives you a small ‘mhm’.

You quickly give yourself time to use the bathroom, then wash your hands before you walk yourself back into the room, crawling back into his lap before he turns the both of you to the side.

Simon unclips your brassiere and drops it onto the floor, cups both of your breasts in his palms and moans as you slide yourself back down onto his cock.

“Mmh…So warm…” he whispers huskily while kissing the nape of your neck down to your collarbones.

He spoons you, lulling you into a state of drowsiness as he gently massages your tits. Simon’s breath is a gentle pattern over your neck, gentle snores leaving the barriers of his lips after his hands go still.

You don’t take long to catch sleep right behind him, turning your head a moment to peck his wet lips before you’re able to finally shut your eyes.

#ghostheartfelt #ghostheartfelt writing #simon ghost x reader #mw2 smut #ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost modern warfare #ghost cod #ghost imagine #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley imagine #ghostheartfelt ;; 👻#ghostheartfelt writing ;; 👻

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asliceofzosan · 6 months

Text

in which Zoro takes the blame for not paying for the food at the Baratie (sequel to Sanji witnessing the riceball incident in Shells Town)

Ribeye steaks piled one on top of the other, a massive helping of mashed potatoes with boatloads of gravy, salads, soups, and fancy dishes with names Zoro can't pronounce — all made up the massively long order list that he knows Luffy has not a single Berry to his name to pay with.

Zoro looks around the place, tuning out the story of the giant goldfish that Usopp has told them before, his eyes resting on the blonde waiter flitting about and flirting with every woman at every table.

Sanji was his name. Zoro didn't recognize it. But when he arrived to their table and saw Zoro, it looked like their resident waiter recognized him. Zoro's reputation in the East Blue is not a laughing matter, so it didn't bother him at first. But the way Sanji stared at him, wide blue eyes and with a touch of a smile on his lips, told Zoro that there's something a lot more than recognition swimming in that man's head.

He can't put a finger on what it is exactly though. It's driving him crazy.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

Sanji turns to him and nearly steps back in shock. Zoro quirks an eyebrow, confused and a little annoyed. He wore his best clothes today (Captain's orders). And he's pretty sure he even took his mandatory once-a-week bath before they went inside (Nami's orders). Still the waiter looked at him like Zoro had grown a second head. Like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Maybe there really is something wrong with your eye," Zoro muses, crossing his arms as Sanji quickly straightens his posture and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Got a problem with me, waiter?"

Sanji coughs out a laugh. Zoro notes with narrowed eyes that there is the slightest tint of pink coloring his cheeks. Is he blushing? The fuck?

"None at all, sir. I think I was just seeing things." The look in the waiter's eyes betrays his statement but Zoro chooses to say nothing. With a practiced smile, he turns back to Nami and asks her how she'd like her water that makes Zoro stare at him this time like he's grown a second head.

"And um..." Zoro is surprised Sanji hasn't left yet and is once again directly addressing him. "We have a few specialty riceballs not on the menu today. I'll bring them out... on the house."

Without even explaining what the fuck that meant, Sanji turns on his heels and beelines straight for the kitchen.

"I think Nami's boyfriend might be yours too, Zoro." Usopp teases him with a snicker and the glare he gives him is sharper than the blades of his swords.

Now, here Zoro is, letting Ussop's words affect him more than they have any right to as he downs his third bottle of beer.

The specialty rice balls haven't come out yet. Zoro's starting to think it's just a sick joke. But he doesn't let it get to him. Or tries to. Why offer free food when you can't deliver on it? Fucking ridiculous. And no, it's not like he suddenly craved rice balls when the blasted waiter mentioned them. That's not it at all. Bullshit.

"Didn't the waiter said he's coming by with rice balls?" Zoro finally snaps and the conversation his crew was having died down immediately at his statement. Ah fuck. He probably should have just kept his mouth shut because Nami was now looking at him with a shit-eating grin not entirely unlike the one he gave her when he teased her before the meal.

"How would you like them, oh great swordsman?" She teases with a glint in her eye. She cups her cheeks with her hands in delight at the irritated snarl Zoro gives her.

"With or without seaweed?" Ussop chimes in.

"Cubed or crushed?"

"Fuck off," Zoro hisses between his teeth. Nami and Ussop share a look before bursting into laughter. Zoro looks over at Luffy who was swinging his feet and obliviously sipping his milk. When Luffy makes eye contact with him, he just tilts his head with wide blank eyes and it makes Zoro question all his life choices.

"You wanna ask him?" Luffy says, already clamoring over the booth and waving at the object of Zoro's unexplained irritation. Zoro sinks into the seat as Sanji approaches with the bill for their meal.

"Your bill, sir."

"Zoro's asking if you're gonna bring the rice balls you promised." Zoro just stared up at the ceiling and thought of a million different ways to cut a hole into the floor so that the ocean could take him.

There is a headache inducing silence that follows Luffy's question. Zoro can't help but finally look at the waiter and he doesn't know how to explain the feeling that bubbles up when they make direct eye contact. Maybe it's indigestion. It's probably indigestion.

Instead of bringing up the damn rice balls, Zoro just grabs the tray with the bill from Luffy's hand. Just as expected, his annoyingly endearing captain put down an I.O.U for the ridiculously long list of food they ordered. Several possible scenarios could happen from this. And Zoro doesn't want to think about Luffy wreaking havoc in someone else's kitchen.

With a deep sigh through his nose and a knowing look at Nami, Zoro wrote down his own name in place of Luffy's.

"Zoro, what—" Luffy almost took the bill back when Zoro stood up and handed it directly to the waiter, who looked just as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

"If your head chef's got a problem with that, he can talk to me directly. Tell him that for me, won't you?" Sanji takes the bill, reads what's written, and there's a phantom lurch in his chest that happens when Sanji looks up at him and smiles. Zoro doesn't want to describe it. He'll allow himself to firmly believe that it's a side effect of eating too much food. It's indigestion. You're just constipated. Never mind that the feeling is most prominent in his chest and not his stomach.

"Of course, sir." Sanji purrs and the sound runs like a cold river down Zoro's spine. There's a hint of mischief in the gleam of his visible eye. Every instinct in Zoro tells him it's dangerous. He should take his crew out of here, onto the Merry, and run.

But he stays rooted to the spot, wrist limp on the hilt of his sword, as he watches that damn waiter walk away from him.

"WHO THE HELL IS RORONOA ZORO?!"

The steady routine of washing the dishes helps quiet Zoro's racing mind.

It's a very welcome distraction. The clinking of the ceramic against metal utensils provides a cacophonous symphony that helps drown out all of Zoro's waking thoughts. The sooner he starts to think, the sooner he starts to notice how that stupid fucking waiter has just been sitting at the table behind him, cursing Zoro with his mere presence.

Scrub scrub scrub...

"You sure you don't want any help?"

Scrub scrub rinse...

"No."

Scrub rinse dry...

"I really have nothing better to do."

Zoro's eye twitches.

"Good for you."

A long silence follows this and Zoro thinks the waiter finally gave up. That was until...

"Are you still mad about the rice balls?"

"Oh my god!" Zoro nearly slams a pile of dishes onto the floor. He turns to Sanji, who is just casually smoking at the table, and stomps over to him. Once he was right in front of him, Zoro snarls at him, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Talk about those damn rice balls one more time, I'm gonna chop your head clean off for them to use in tomorrow's ramen stock."

Sanji blinks, then turns his head to the side to blow smoke away from Zoro. Zoro tries to convince himself that he isn't staring at the way Sanji's lips purse around the cigarette in the process.

"I can still make you the rice balls," Sanji says without a single ounce of fear in his body. "I just couldn't do it while the old man was around." He then stands up and steps around Zoro with a practiced grace. "Are you willing to wait ten minutes?"

"I'm not hungry," Zoro hisses but his stomach betrays him with a loud grumble. He's been washing dishes for so many hours. He probably missed dinner.

Then, as Zoro straightens his posture, Sanji does it again — he smiles and Zoro doesn't know what to do.

"Sit." Sanji gently nudges a chair out with his foot. It lands perfectly in front of Zoro at a perpendicular angle. "I'll have them out in five."

"You said ten minutes." Zoro found himself saying, only to be contradictory. Sanji laughs this time and the resulting smile pierces Zoro's heart with a million cursed swords.

"When someone's hungry, I feed them." Sanji says simply and that's the statement that ends their conversation. Zoro still refuses to sit on the chair, instead finding himself gravitating towards the counter that Sanji was preparing his ingredients at and leaning against the marble.

Before Sanji found them at their table, he brought down a marine and a fearsome pirate with just his feet. Zoro was fascinated by his fighting style even if he didn't want to admit it out loud. But he's always been curious. Especially now, with Sanji whipping out the sharpest knives and using them effortlessly as Zoro would wield the Wado Ichimonji.

"You're good with knives," Zoro says before he could stop himself. Sanji chuckles.

"Of course, I am. I'm a chef. Best one in the East Blue."

"What's a chef doing waiting tables, then?"

"Cause I was kicked off the line this morning. It's a weekly occurrence, nothing special." The way Sanji scrapes his ingredients into a bowl betrayed how he felt about it despite his nonchalance. "I can cook better dishes than everyone in this damn kitchen but Zeff refuses to acknowledge that. It's always 'your food is crap', 'slice those carrots thinner', or 'needs more fucking oregano—"

Sanji throws the knife onto the cutting board, its tip now embedded neatly straight down the middle. It stood perfectly still, like it was afraid of what Sanji could do if he added more pressure. Zoro raised an eyebrow, looking up at the now irritated cook with a smirk.

"Sorry," Sanji mumbles, taking the knife and cleaning it carefully with a cloth. Zoro says nothing. He just props his elbow on the counter and places his chin into his hand as he watches Sanji in his element. Eventually, it's down to just shaping the rice balls with his hands and Zoro asks the question that poked at his mind during Sanji's mini outburst.

"If you're so dissatisfied cooking here why don't you just leave?"

Sanji pauses. His head is down, his blonde fringe obscuring one eye as his fingers twitch against the rice ball.

"It's not about that."

"Yeah?" Zoro leans as close as he could get with the counter between them. Sanji still refuses to look up. "A hot-headed cook who claims to be the best in the East Blue settling down here — where he is not head chef — is as contradictory as it gets."

"You don't know–" Sanji snaps but stops himself immediately. He looks up to glare at Zoro through narrowed eyes. "You don't know why I still stay."

"Enlighten me then, cook." Zoro leans his hip against the counter. "Because really, someone as good as you claim to be has got to have some ambitions. Dreams." Zoro holds the man's gaze. "Do you hate the old man?"

"No!" Sanji counters immediately. "The man fucking raised me. I owe him my goddamn life!"

"Owing him your life isn't the same as giving up your life to work at a restaurant that barely lets you cook."

"You don't know shit!" Sanji nearly slams his fist down on the counter, pointing a finger at Zoro with his face beet red. "This restaurant was his dream—"

"But is it your dream?"

Silence. Total utter silence.

Where color is nothing but a dark void of black and grey, a sea of blue greets him from the pages. Vivid pink skies and tangerine mangroves burst to life. All types of fish swim in his mind's eye but if he reaches out to touch them, it certainly should be real. A phantom breeze kisses his cheeks and water laps at his feet. He's drowning but he swims in delight. He's falling but he feels the clouds cushion him with warmth.

There is a vast ocean out there, one that contains delicacies and species from all four seas. Creatures of every kind, spices that have never been tasted.

The All Blue.

In Sanji's world of black and white — he strives to find the one place that's in screaming color.

There are tears in Sanji's eyes before Zoro could comprehend what was going on. But he wipes them away before he can get a good look at him. The kitchen was quiet around them. The only sound peeking through was the faint music from the bar outside. Though Zoro's heartbeat was louder in his ears than his own breathing.

But he could hear each footstep Sanji takes, the scrape of the plate as it's pushed in Zoro's direction, and the click click of Sanji's lighter as he helps himself to another cigarette. Zoro looks down and sees the rice balls presented in front of him — three heaping helpings, all coated in a different topping, all different flavors.

Zoro takes one.

And it's the best rice ball he's ever had in his life.

"I have a dream," Sanji murmurs, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. One glance and Zoro could see that whatever his dream is... it still burns like molten lava in the heart of this chef. "I'd just rather give up on it than die searching for mine."

Zoro swallows, turns around, and takes the cigarette from Sanji. The ashes fall into his palm, its embers dimming as he squishes it between his fingers.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Zoro says, looking up to make eye contact with Sanji. He can see it almost immediately — the longing for something that seems near impossible to achieve, the acceptance that it's hopeless — but Zoro sees it, clear as day, that the flickering flame of hope still shines in Sanji's eyes. That he's just waiting for his sign to let it once again consume his soul in a roaring fire, brighter than even the sun could be.

Zoro wants to see him shine.

"Come meet my captain," Zoro instinctively wraps his hand around Sanji's wrist. Surprisingly, Sanji doesn't pull back. "I think he'd really like to get to know you."

Sanji doesn't protest.

Zoro takes the rice balls to go.

Never waste food.

#niki's fics: debt and doing dishes #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #opla #zosan #one piece live action #nami #ussop #monkey d luffy #MY GUYS IT GOT SO LONG I THINK THERE NEEDS TO BE A PART THREE #roronoa zoro x vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #fic series: it all started with a dirty rice ball

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gurugirl · 11 months

Text

based on this request

Summary: stepdad!harry's point of view after he meets you and fucks you the first few times.

A/n: 2k+ words | stepdad!harry x stepdaughter!reader

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, degradation, cheating, angst (guilt), inappropriate relationship between a stepdad and stepdaughter - don't read if you aren't into it!

stepdad!harry masterlist

Harry was a shit. He knew he was. When he met your mom he was looking to get some ass and she was hot and willing. She was at one of his gigs at a bar and she was front and center with her tits practically on display for him. And Harry definitely had a thing for slightly older women. Mostly because they liked to treat him like he was their fun toy and buy him things. He liked being doted on and given lots of attention.

And your mom did exactly the things he liked. She wanted sex and she had a lot of money to spend on him. And she was hot.

But then he met you and that changed everything for him. You were the younger, better version of your mom. Minus all the money.

It was just physical attraction of course. You were just a cute college girl, a virgin he learned later, and he couldn’t help flirting with you the first time he met you. He flirted very directly too because his damn ego was so big. And you were so shy and surprised by him that only egged him on. But he could tell you were into it.

After he married your mom and moved in, though, he really tried to pretend you didn’t exist. He wanted to put a little distance there and not screw up the good thing he had going with your mom. His gravy train. Fucking with his wife’s daughter, his stepdaughter, could potentially ruin everything. It wasn’t worth it. At first.

But it was impossible because it was like you had flipped the script on him. He had been the one to flirt and make it clear how he felt for you early on while you were blustering and a little shy. But when he attempted to ignore you, you made it almost impossible for him to pretend you weren’t in the room. Prancing around in your tiny shorts and crop tops and batting your lashes at him.

And with your mom gone often enough, thanks to her well-paying job as a surgeon, Harry was regularly left alone with you. Your bratty attitude and the way you flaunted yourself infuriated him. Even calling him dad or daddy just to get under his skin… he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He supposed it was payback in a way for how he treated you at first.

It was a surprise, though, he had to admit. Because he knew you were a virgin, as you had mentioned to him innocently one evening, and he imagined that meant you were somewhat prude. A twenty-year-old virgin? You had to be. But he was wrong.

You pushed and pushed and he’d often “catch” you running from the bathroom to the bedroom (or vice versa) in one of those large hand towels that didn’t cover everything safely. Your damp skin and wet hair flashed by him just as he’d be in view. It was definitely not an accident he determined. He’d caught sight of your tits and ass more times than he could count. But only when your mom wasn’t looking.

You laid it on thick and when he finally gave in to you and fucked you, taking your virginity in the process, he was disappointed in his lack of willpower but wished he could indulge as often as he wanted. But he’d keep you at arm's length out of necessity. He was married to your mom after all. In fact. It was only meant to happen the one time with you. But you played into all his fantasies and kinks as if you were a pro. And once he’d fucked you, you were even more pushy. You wanted him and you made that clear.

The second time he fucked you was when he realized you were going to be a regular thing because the way you responded to him was his wet dream. He wouldn’t be able to resist any longer. Not with the way you begged and teased.

He often imagines that day fondly when he thinks back now. The second time he fucked you because you wanted it dirty and you wanted him mean and that was perfect for what Harry craved with you.

“You’re my little cock slut and you’re gonna take what I give you til you’re coming on my cock and draining my come into your womb.”

He pulled out and released your legs then quickly flipped you so you were flat on your tummy. He held your wrists in one hand and pulled at an ass cheek as he pushed into your cunt once again, fucking you down into the bed. Your moans were muffled into the blankets.

“Fuck, your little pussy is so wet and tight. Your mom could never feel so good, gonna have to use your fuck hole every night to get what I need.”

He released your wrists as he continued impaling you with his stiff length, its head reaching so far into you and wrecking your insides.

He smacked your ass, a crack sounding in the room as you whined, “Yes, daddy! Fuck yes…” and he continued spanking your bottom as he slammed into you.

After Harry left his handprints all over your backside he squeezed your cheeks, ramming into you with wet thuds, his balls whacking you at each pass.

And that led to very frequent trysts. Some even with your mom in the house. Some right next to your mother when she was sleeping. Harry had never been fucked so good. Even though he would say he was doing the fucking, the way you took him and pled for him had his brain spinning. He was obsessed.

He was in too deep. It was dangerous territory for sure but he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to stop. He was powerless against you.

To Harry: Mom’s gone for the night. Coming home soon?

Harry looked down at his phone after he was done with a jam session at his buddy’s house.

From Harry: omw

His dick was already lurching in his pants just thinking about you. His wife’s daughter. He knew he was going to hell but you’d be worth it. He never thought it would get this far but as much as he knew he shouldn’t, you were his little indulgence. A decadent treat for himself and he knew you felt the same.

The moment he walked in the door you were there, dragging him in and yanking his pants down. You couldn’t wait. In front of the door, you dropped to your knees and took your stepdad down your throat.

Harry groaned and steadied himself, planting his feet flat, legs parted slightly, bent just enough at the knees so he could fuck your face. Putting his hands onto your head he guided you over him and then began rocking his hips into you, shoving himself down your esophagus and watched as your eyes glazed over and slobber began to drip off your chin.

“Fucking desperate slut. Couldn’t wait to gag on daddy’s cock could you?”

You gurgled and grasped onto the front of his strong thighs as he ravaged your mouth. He knew you liked it, though. Because you told him how much you loved giving head. You hadn’t had sex before Harry, but you’d been around in other ways. And he didn’t like that. He didn’t know why exactly. Not in that moment. But he just knew there was a part of him that hated the idea of you sucking off anyone but him. Hated the thought that you had let other guys eat your pussy. Had gotten spanked before him. Let one guy choke you even.

Harry backed out a bit, his wet cock bobbing in front of your face as you gasped for air and opened your eyes up to look at Harry and grin as you sucked in as much air into your lungs as you could before he grasped the back of your head and brought you back down on him.

He groaned and pushed you down so your nose caught in the thatch of hair at his base and kept you in place, the crown of his cock throbbing, leaking, hot in your throat, blocking your airway, grinding into you as far as you could take it. Your gags and the amount of liquid falling from your jaw and down your neck, pooling onto the space of floor in front of your knees didn’t deter Harry from rearing back and snapping his hips forward, lodging his cock into your mouth over and over again.

“Where do you want my come?” He yanked your hair and lifted you off of him so you could respond.

You coughed and hacked, strings of saliva from your bottom lip to the floor and onto your knees. Harry knew your answer before you could even say it by the way you darted your eyes up to his and you slid your fingers from the tops of your thighs to the space in between them slowly, “Please in my pussy, daddy.”

Harry smirked as he bent to reach down and help you up to standing. He pressed you against the door and reached between your legs and found that you were not wearing panties. A very good girl. But so naughty.

“So needy,” he spoke lowly as he pulled your arms up to latch around his neck as he bent at the knees and lifted you up, keeping you against the door as leverage as he slipped his cock inside of your slick pussy, “A needy, desperate, dirty little slut. Aren’t you?” His words strangled in his throat at the way you felt. He had already been on edge from the blowjob, nearly busted down your throat before pulling out and asking where you wanted him.

“Yes! Yes, daddy. For you.”

“Only for me. Isn’t that right? Only I get to use this hole. I get to fuck my come into you whenever I please. Fuck…” he grunted and gasped.

You could tell he was about to release. You didn’t even care if you came or not. You were so turned on by him coming because of you and having his sperm inside of you, feeling it drip down your legs. You loved how it felt when he shivered and his quieted moans grew darker and louder as he released into you. You loved when he’d look at you as he came (he didn’t always) because it felt so intimate in juxtaposition to how he normally treated you (and you really loved how mean he was).

You felt Harry’s hips stutter as his groans turned to mewls. He was nearly whimpering as he came, pouring into you, his cock pushed as deep inside of you as he could get causing you to squeak and sink your fingers into his shoulders at the pinch.

He panted and let his heart rate slow down before he lowered you to the floor and before tugging his pants up and looking you up and down. Flushed cheeks, chest rising and falling fast, thighs clenched. You hadn’t come yet.

He sighed as he bent down, got onto his knees, lifted one of your legs to drape over his shoulder, and looked up at your as he put his mouth over your clit. His fingers were pinching into your thighs as he pulled you into ecstasy with his tongue and his lips. Sucking and swiping, devouring, teasing, mouthing. Eating.

You wound your fingers into his hair and rolled your hips against him. Your hushed moans grew louder as the pressure built.

“Daddy! Oh gah…” you felt the spark zip from the inside out as you came in his mouth. It was wet and silky and creamy… Harry was literally lapping up his come as he licked you clean and slurped you up.

When you’d just started to catch your breath he stood up, leaving you to rely on the door behind you so you didn’t fall, “Thanks. Needed that.”

He smirked to himself as he walked off. Enjoying the post-orgasm relief and knowing you’d be begging him for more soon enough.

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

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our-flag-means-love · 5 months

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i haven't seen anyone talk about this since the new season so i guess it'll have to be me.

in the wake of s1 there was meta going around about the symbolism of ed's gloves.

for most of s1, he has the fingerless ones. this is when he's closed off, bottled up. even while getting to know stede, he's not allowing himself to be fully vulnerable.

the closest we see him get in this span of episodes are when he switches outfits with stede, and the fancy french party. at both of these times, he doesn't wear his gloves, and, surely enough, in one case he's exploring a side of himself he'd previously never let see the light of day, and in the other he has a very vulnerable moment with stede after the party.

but during these instances, he also doesn't have his leathers. the gloves and the rest of his getup seem to operate independently. the gloves are his repression, his vulnerability or lack thereof, while his leathers represent blackbeard, whom ed repeatedly tries to distance himself from.

(continued under the cut bc this got kind of long)

and when he finally does away with the gloves again in s1e9, it's when he's exploring a new, gentler side of himself that never had room to breathe before. he's shed the blackbeard leathers entirely, attempting to leave that part of himself behind.

for the majority of s1e10, he also doesn't have his leathers or gloves, as he's wearing the breakup robe, still exploring his more sensitive side, and being open with the crew.

the contrast, as well as how the gloves fit into this whole thing, is never more evident than at the very end of s1. when he descends back into blackbeard, using it as a shield, letting it consume him entirely, this is the only time in the show that we see him with the full fingered gloves. he's repressing himself harder than ever, and trying to force his sensitive side as far down as he can.

in the first three episodes of s2, right up until his reunion with stede, he's back to the fingerless gloves, still in blackbeard garb, and still repressing his deepest needs and desires. the only exception in this stretch of time is the gravy basket, where he's extremely open and vulnerable about his biggest worries.

for two of the later episodes of s2, he also doesn't have his leathers, and those are the two episodes in which he's again really trying to distance himself from blackbeard, whether it be by shirking blame for his actions or by reinventing himself entirely.

so, given all of that, i just have to ask: how are we feeling about him spending much of s2—and especially finishing out the season—still in his leathers but without the gloves?

these are the times when he's being vulnerable and open without trying to escape from blackbeard. by the end of the season, he's accepted it as part of who he is. not something to base himself on entirely, nor to fear or run from, just a real part of him that's there for better or for worse.

#ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #ed teach #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd meta

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allfryam · 8 months

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freshman 15

jake was finally done. He had just graduated high school and he would be heading off to college in a couple months. It all felt so surreal to him. After this summer, he would never see his classmates again. He wondered what they would look like in a few years time. Jake would also have to leave behind his soccer team. Jake was the captain of his team and soccer was what got him through high school.

all of the exercise was great for Jake as he had rock hard abs on top of a flat stomach. He had defined muscles on just about his entire body. His wavy brown hair was parted in the middle and he had ocean blue eyes you could drown in. Everyone envied his extremely attractive appearance. Jake often went to the gym and ate well to maintain his physique. A bad metabolism ran in his family so he had to work extra hard to eat right and stay fit.

the time had finally come. Jake was in his new dorm when his roommate walked in. His name was Ben. Ben was tall. Really tall Jake wasn’t short by any means but he had to look up to talk to Ben. He looked to be about 6’ 7” with short blonde hair. He had brown eyes and an impeccable jawline. The only flaw that Jake could see was that he had a little bit of a dad bod. Jake could see Ben’s belly pushing against his tight shirt. When he stretched his shirt would ride up to reveal a fuzzy stomach. This disgusted Jake. He couldn’t understand how people could live with being fat. Jake decided not to say anything.

Ben told Jake that this was his second year at the college. He invited Jake to a freshman welcome party that night and Jake was not one to pass up on a party. When he arrived, Ben went straight for the alcohol. “No wonder he was so fat” Jake thought to himself. Jake just hung around and tried to meet new people.

a few weeks into the school year and Jake hadn’t even been to the gym yet. The campus was so big he couldn’t find it anywhere. Besides, he was so busy with his schoolwork that he would t have much time for the gym. He wasn’t worried though. He was confident his body could maintain his amazing fitness until he could get back into the gym.

Jake had been eating less healthy than usual. He would have late nights studying, and the only places that were open only had fast food. It didn’t help that Ben would often order takeout for the both of them and Jake would eat it so Ben wouldn’t feel bad.

One night, around halloween, Jake had been partying all night and decided he would drink some alcohol to take his mind off school. Drinking became a regular occurrence for Jake and it was beginning to take a toll on his perfect body. Jake hadn’t noticed yet but his perfect abs were completely gone. The only thing Jake noticed was Ben, who was also getting fatter.

Jake was able to visit his family for thanksgiving. His brother was the first to comment on his weight gain. “Looks like the freshman 15 got you bro”. He said. Jake looked down and saw a sliver of his belly peeking out from underneath his tight shirt. His face turned red. “Relax. I’m just bulking” he lied. He ran away to the bathroom to examine his new fat. Yup. It was true. His perfect abs had disappeared. They were replaced by a curved stomach and a soft layer of fat. Jake decided to take it easy on the alcohol from now on.

his family prepared an enormous feast for thanksgiving. They had a turkey, stuffing, baked beans, mashed potatoes, casseroles, gravy, Mac and cheese, and delicious rolls. Jake loaded his plate with all of it and drenched it all in gravy. Then he began to feast. He tore through the meal like it was his last, scarfing everything down as quickly as possible. When he was done, he grabbed more eating another mountain of delicious food. The mac and cheese was his favorite he ate like 10 servings! He didn’t tell anyone, but after the first plate, he went to the bathroom to loosen his belt. It was getting uncomfortably tight.

after everyone had finished, Jake was fuller than ever he sat on the couch rubbing his taut stomach. But not long after dinner came dessert. Jakes family prepared pumpkin pie, apple pie, different kinds of cakes, ice cream, cookies, brownies, and pastries. Jake didn’t want to be rude and refuse his family’s cooking, so he prepared his belly for more food. He ate a slice of each pie topped with a scoop of ice cream, a few cookies, at least one piece of each cake,(the banana crème cake was so good he had to get another slice) some brownies, and a big strawberry pastry. After all of that, the buttons on his shirt were starting to get tight. He put on a sweater just in case.

back at college, Ben poked jakes gut and said, “looks like you had a nice thanksgiving”. Jakes face got red and he went to the bathroom. Jake had bought a scale to help maintain his weight while he was in college. This was his first time using it since he got here. When he first arrived he was 154 pounds. Surely he couldn’t be more than 160 now right?…. 170 pounds. Jake couldn’t believe it. He had actually gained 15 pounds. But… maybe it wasn’t so bad. Ben seemed fine and he was way fatter than Jake. Jake decided it wasn’t a big deal and he would lose it eventually. He was hungry though. McDonald’s sounded good…

to be continued….

#fat #fat belly #fatty #gaining fat #chubby #fat gut #fatty piggy #gaining #gaining weight #getting bigger #freshman 15 #college freshman #freshman fifteen #belly expansion #exjock

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

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✧ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 | hey baby au ♔

summary: anna takes asher to the first game of the season

warnings: none, at least i think so

notes: part of the 'hey baby' series. welcome back everyone, sorry i haven't done this series, i didn't know what to write (please send asks and thoughts). hope you guys enjoy this and yeah. add yourself to the taglist ➵ taglist!

series masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Nico groaned from the extra weight on his bed and turned over.

“Asher.” Nico’s accent came through and the boy giggled, “Uncle Nico! It’s time to get up. It’s your first game today.”

“Yes, I know, meine liebe. But that means I need my sleep.”

“Uncle Nico what does ‘min- mina- lib-lirba’ mean.”

Nico sits up and scoots back so his back is flush agains the headboard and moves his nephew into his lap, “It’s meine liebe, schatz, and it means ‘my love’. And before you ask, schatz means hon.”

Asher nods excitedly, thoroughly entranced with his family’s native language. Nico continues to speak and tell Asher different German words when Anna knocks on his door, “Ash, what did I tell you last night about waking your uncle up?”

“Not to do it.”

“It’s alright, schatz. No biggie.”

“Mommy! Did you know that sc-schatz means ‘hon’?”

Anna shakes her head, “No, I did not know that, my love. Now how about we make some breakfast.”

Asher nodded his head once more and raced out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, “I’m sorry about him waking you up, Neeks. It’s been a long week.”

Nico gets up and throws one of his shirts on before going over to his sister, “I promise you, it’s okay. I can only imagine how draining it is, You’re doing great.” He kisses her on the forehead and she smiles walking away to make some food.

✧༺✎༻∞

Asher could not contain his excitement. Anna was lucky that she even got him to go down for a nap earlier right before the game. He made Anna get to the Prudential Center before the doors were even open, having Nico go and get them.

Asher excitedly clambered down from his mom’s grasp and went to grip his uncle’s outstretched hand. Anna followed behind the two, looking around at the arena along checking her phone whenever they stopped so Asher could ask questions. When the clubhouse came into view, Asher ran to the door and tried to open it, “Woah woah woah, there kumpel.”

“I wanna see everybody!” Asher bounced on his feet, extremely tempted to start running around the hallways.

“One moment, Ash.” Nico knocked on the door making sure it was decent before tkaing his nephew into the crowded room.

“Hi everyone!”

“Hi Asher.” Everyone let out their greetings and Asher went around saying hi to everyone.

“Hi Uncle Jesp. Hi Uncle Gravy. Hi Uncle Dougie. Hi Uncle Cloudy. Hi Uncle Jonas. Hi Uncle Tater Tot. Hi Uncle Dawson. Hi Uncle Bernier. Hi Jack! Mommy this is my new friend Jack!”

Anna looked up from her phone and in between her son and Jack, “I see honey. Go ahead and ask him, if you want.”

He nodded, “Jack, can you guess my five favorite things?” Asher loved to have people guess his favorite things. Nobody knew why he did, yet it was always funny how mad he got if someone got it wrong.

“I’m gonna say dinosaurs, airplanes, rainbows, and chicken nuggets.” Asher nodded his head as Jack spoke looking happy that he was gonna get them all right, “And the New York Rangers.”

Asher gasped in offense, “No! Why would I like the Rangers, Jack?” Jack shrugged, “I’m just joking, little man. You’re favorite team is obviously the Devils.”

He nodded in approval and walked back over to his mom, “Bye everyone. Good luck!”

Everyone waved at the little boy as he and Anna walked out of the locker room. She took him to their seats, right near the glass per his request. They waited until warmups, Asher making Anna take pictures of him and the rink with his jersey on as people piled into The Rock. The boy made friends with the poeple who sat around him, a nice young couple, a family with two kids, and a group teenage boys, who he was the biggest fan of.

The boys played rock, paper, scissors with him along with allowing him to play on their phones. When warmups started. Asher was standing and banging on the glass trying to get one of his uncles’ attention. When Ryan came over he started chanting, “Uncle Gravy! Uncle Gravy! Uncle Gravy!” IN reutnr, Ryan threw him a puck and he squealed.

The people beside them laughed at the boy’s antics, yet that wasn’t the last that they would hear from the boy. Whenever the Devils would score, he would chant their scorers name and then those who got the assist. Whenever the Blackhawks scored, he would boo saying something about how it wasn’t Bernier’s fault. And when the Devils got into the penalty box Asher would look towards his mom and “whisper”, “Mommy, Uncle …, did something bad.” When the Blackhawks got a penalty he screamed “Sentence to life” which Anna has no clue where he learned it from but had a sneaking suspicion.

When Jack got the OT winner Asher was beyond happy, screaming, “Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!”

Anna took him to see the boys after the game and even allowed them to take the two out to dinner to celebrate the first game, and win, of the season.

✧༺✎༻∞

anna.hischier

liked by nicohischier, dougieham, taliaforester, and 4,673 others

anna.hischier Asher's (and the devils) first game of the season. congratulations on the win boys. Ashy even got a puck from Uncle Gravy

tagged nicohischier, dougieham, ryangraves27

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nicohischier I think he should come to all of our games

⤷ anna.hichier @/nicohischier haha you wish, neeks, not happening

⤷ ryangraves27 @/anna.hischier I agree with cap

dougieham Thanks for bringing him, Anns. I swear he's our good luck charm

⤷ anna.hischier @/dougieham I'm glad we got to come! We'll see you guys in a month!

taliaforester he's so adorable!!! Love his Hischier jersey

jackhughes followed you

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #sunnyluneheybaby #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jh86 #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x sister!reader #jack hughes x hischier!reader #hischier!reader #sister!reader #nj devils #devils #hockey #nhl

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