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imbored1201 · 4 months

Note

Can I send a request of barca teen reader who is very mischievous and tries to prank everybody

Piggy

Barcelona Femeni x Teen reader

A/N: I though of a situation of pranking someone then causing trouble with another situation👍

Word Count: 1,344

"Give me that." Ingrid snatched away the sharpie you had. "Hey! I'm using that for my notes.

"A sharpie for your notes, really?" She put her hands on her hips and gave you a mom look. You were sitting in the trunk of her car doing the remainder of your 'school work'. At least that's what you told her you were going to do.

"Yes, people do that; you haven't been to school in like 15 years, so you wouldn't know," you shrugged. Ingrid shook her head. "You always complain about the smell of sharpies, and you’re calling me old; this is such an old prank.

She was talking about the sign you had; 'kick me' it read, and it was supposed to go on Patri's back. "So, it will still be funny to see.

You took the paper back, applied tape to it, and shoved all your material back into your bag. "Don't be a snitch," you told Ingrid, and skipped away.

————

"Hey, Patri," you said joyfully as you hit her back, applying the note. "You're happier than usual," she said suspiciously. "Of course I am; I'm officially on Christmas break." She smiled at that; now you were off the radar.

—————

"Ay!" You turned as you heard Patri yell, seeing Claudia there giggling as Patri held her butt. "You said to do it." Patri looked confused at what Claudia said but just went on with training.

It kept happening as training went on. Aitana, Ona, Lucy, Salma, Oshoala, Mapi, Jana, Cata, and Gemma all kicked her.

Ingrid would just shake her head at you when you walked or ran past her. All the older girls, too, knew you were the reason for that sign on Patri's back. Everyone did, but they decided to ignore it and let you have your fun.

It was a harmless prank anyway.

—————

"Okay, what the heck is going on?!" Patri demanded as she entered the locker room after a long training session. You held a smile as everyone turned to her, confused. You looked down as Alexia gave you a look, and you were surprised she didn't say anything about it.

You were already changed and only waiting on Alexia; you were the first one in the locker room, knowing you would have to make a quick escape.

"Why is everyone kicking me today?" Everyone shrugged at Patri's question; she scowled and got changed.

You stared at her as she took off her shirt. You quickly grabbed your bag, grabbed Alexia's hand, and dragged her outside.

"Y/N!" You heard Patri yell, and you bolted. Alexia sighed as she ran with you, already used to this.

It happened every training, and she just went along with it now since it put you in a good mood instead of a crappy teenager attitude.

—————

"Are you ready?" Alexia knocked on your door, "wait, I'm packing." "For what? It's just a gathering." You rolled your eyes as you fed Piggy and put her into your bag, leaving it a little bit open.

"Okay, I'm ready." Alexia gave you a look; she knew you were up to something. "Why are you taking a bag?" "I always carry a bag with me," you said.

The team was having a little gathering to celebrate the last game of 2023.

"We're already late because of you; I told you to be ready by 4; it's already 6," she scolded. "I fell asleep; Lucy says I need my rest to grow," you tried defending. "Get in the car."

—————

When you got to Frido's place, you rushed to find Patri and sat next to her. She gave you a little glare and went back to watching the movie Frido had put on. Everyone else was too busy drinking and talking outside or in the kitchen about the upcoming games.

"Patri," she turned to you, "yes." "Can you help me prank Aitana and Ona?" She smiled a bit; she was happy it wasn't her again.

"What's your idea?" You grabbed your backpack and took out the tiny box. A tiny box that had a tiny spider. The "tiny spider" was a tarantula.

"How the hell do you have that?!" She said in shock, and you shushed her. "Her name is Piggy, and I got her yesterday." Patri looked terrified as she scooted over a little bit.

"Does Alexia know?" You shook your head. "I need to tell her because I need to get Piggy a home." "Then how did you get her?" "Mapi took me; I told her I was getting fish food, and she didn't question why I had a box or if I even had a fish." Patri shook her head.

"You have to promise me you won't prank me anymore for a month," she said, holding out her pinky, and you took the deal.

Patri went up to Aitana and Ona, who were in conversation and drinking together in the kitchen. She grabbed them by their shoulders and dragged them outside.

You followed but got run over by Lucy. You dropped the box, and Piggy automatically crawled away, sick of being in that tiny box. "Jeez, sorry kid." Lucy helped you up. You looked around on the floor, and your heart dropped when you realized you couldn't find Piggy.

"Lucy, Piggy is gone," you said in a panic. "Who's Piggy?" She questioned, but you guys heard a scream. A loud, loud scream. "Shit," you cursed as you ran to the kitchen.

"No!" You yelled, seeing Frido holding a shoe in her hand, ready to destroy Piggy. "Piggy!" You yelled as you ran and picked her up.

"Why do you have a tarantula!?" Keira yelled as she stood on the counter. "I adopted her," you told them, and they both looked at you in shock.

"Alexia let you get a spider?!" Lucy said surprised. Alexia walked in; her eyes widening when she saw what you were holding.

"Where- how did you. You're returning that." She let out a sigh as she shook her head and walked away. "Great, I'm in trouble now. Good going, Lucy," you said, sticking out your tongue at her.

You walked outside, looking sad. "What's wrong, Amiga?" Patri asked, confused. "Alexia said I have to return Piggy." Aitana's jaw dropped as she saw what you had in your hand.

"Nope," she simply said as she went back inside, dragging Ona with her. Patri looked at you and patted your shoulder in sympathy, but quickly backed away when you lifted Piggy up to her.

You had a plan, though, and you knew Alexia would let you keep Piggy.

—————

For having to return your pet Tarantula you were already attached to, you were quite happy. Alexia was just glad you weren't going to throw a tantrum about it.

She was leaving to pick Olga up from the airport, and you were waiting to put on your class act. "I'll be back in a bit; please don't break anything." You nodded, and she left.

You sat patiently by the door, working up your tears. You rushed to your feet once it opened. Alexia walking in first with Olga's luggage. Then Olga walked in.

"Olga!" You cried out, running straight into her arms. Alexia looked confused on why you were crying. "What happened?" She asked, confused.

"Olga, I got a pet Tarantula, and Alexia is trying to make me take her back," you cried, and Olga glared at Alexia. "Bebe, you can't have a tarantula," Alexia tried explaining.

"Yes, I can! I bought her, and I love her, so she's mine," Alexia groaned as Olga smacked her on the shoulder.

"Okay, you can keep her, but she's your responsibility, and I want you to keep her far away from me." You nodded.

"Okay, now that's sorted, let's go out to eat, yeah?" Olga said as she wiped your tears. You nodded happily and skipped off to your room.

You grinned as you texted Patri the good news and got ready. With the look Olga kept giving Alexia, you knew Alexia was sleeping on the couch tonight.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #patri guijarro #ingrid engen #ona batlle

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mc-lukanette · 6 months

Text

A Horror-ble Idea

Marinette paced in thought just outside the Liberty, a box clutched tightly to her chest. She knew it must’ve looked silly overthinking any sort of meeting with a close friend like Luka, but it was hard when it felt so much bigger this time.

Truthfully, she was perfectly happy where they were. They considered themselves best friends, frequently spent time together even if it was simply sitting next to each other while doing their respective hobbies, and were more physically comfortable than she imagined most friends were with each other.

At the same time, there are only so many instances where they could feed each other, “accidentally” brush hands, and cuddle without meaning to that she could still think, okay, but that doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

She tried to excuse it to herself for a while - all childhood friends are probably like that, Luka is just really affectionate, I’m just reading too much into it - but she had overthought it long enough. She wanted him, and if she was going to tell Luka how she felt then she wanted it to be grand.

Brave, to be more precise.

She must’ve been walking back and forth for a while, as footsteps from the Liberty signaled that someone had heard the constant clacking of her shoes. She paused, turning her attention to the sound to see Luka appear. He gave her a questioning look, probably waiting for her to speak first.

Having not planned for any of this yet (in her defense, she did think she could come up with something on the walk there), Marinette could only wave and greet him with, “P-permission to board!”

Embarrassment hit a second later, a groan escaping her as she hid her face with the box.

Luka chuckled good-naturedly, replying, “Aye aye,” before the sound of him setting up the gangplank followed.

Only when the sounds stopped did Marinette look up and walk across to him, nerves thankfully easing as they always tended to when she was close enough to him.

“Hi,” she greeted properly this time, complete with a shy smile.

“Hey,” he greeted back, glancing at the box in curiosity but not prodding about it.

Fidgeting with it as an excuse to have something to do with her hands and keep herself from launching her body at him in a hug (later, she told herself), she explained, “Um, I won’t be here for long. I just wanted to ask you if you could hang out later tonight?”

“Sure—”

“For a sleepover?”

He paused, caught off guard. “Sleepover? Like when we were kids?”

She nodded. “Mhm. I missed doing them, so…”

“No, I…I missed them too,” he admitted with a reassuring smile, a hand going to the back of his head to toy with his hair.

“Really?” she blurted out, then immediately scolded herself for it. It was Luka, who always said how he felt. Of course he meant it. “That’s great!” She bounced in place, excited. “I already picked out a horror movie for us to watch!”

It took a second for the words “horror movie” to register with Luka. Having been friends for long, Marinette could read all the concern on his face and naturally understood it. Everyone knew that she hated horror movies and generally couldn’t deal with blood or gore, but it was all part of her plan.

At the very least, it was cute to see him worry.

“It’ll be okay!” She raised the box to him, wiggling it temptingly. “I even made us matching pajamas for it—!”

“Sounds good,” Luka cut in without missing a beat, the box suddenly gone from her hands. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

——

“And then—!” Marinette pumped her fists up in determination, staring at herself in the mirror for her second pep talk of that day. “I’ll impress him by showing off that I can handle horror movies!”

She looked off to the side, the back of her hand to her forehead as she imitated Luka’s voice to say, “Wow, Marinette, how’d you manage to get over your fear of horror?”

Reaching blindly behind her with her free hand, she pulled her chair close so she could collapse on it, the hand on her forehead dropping to her heart. She replied to herself, “Yeah, there were so many scary things in horror movies, but nothing was scarier than being apart from you for even a second.”

A moment of silence passed. Marinette covered her face and blushed, kicking her legs out wildly at the idea of trying to flirt like that.

This is no time to second guess yourself, she thought. You already went through so much effort!

Which was true. She’d been priming herself for eventual horrors to heighten her tolerance for it. She’d even gone so far as to look through Gabriel Agreste’s upcoming fashion line!

Truly, the deepest level of horror one could imagine.

——

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Luka asked, almost pouting at her from his place on the couch.

“Yes!” She actually pouted at him, waving the question off. “I’m sure! You’re the guest!”

Making sure they had snacks and drinks for the both of them wasn’t an issue. She’d already prepared all of it beforehand, the biggest problem only being carrying the full tray to the table. As for the horror movie, she’d borrowed one from Juleka, who gave her a weird look but otherwise didn’t question it.

After bringing the tray all the way to the table, Marinette went back to shut off the lights, then hurried over to jump onto the couch and join Luka. On instinct, she snuggled against his side, hand resting against his thigh to press against the fuzzy fabric of his fluffy light blue pajama pants. He responded in kind, his arm wrapping around her waist while his hand secured her side.

…Maybe I really am stupid after all, she thought, realizing the position they were so comfortably in. Swallowing her hope down for the time being, she reached out for the remote and started the movie, Luka’s hand gravitating back to its spot at her side when she leaned back against the couch again.

The film itself started out tame enough. She wasn’t sure if Juleka had given her a more delicate horror movie (not that she thought there was such a thing in the first place: horror was horror) or if it was a slow build, but nonetheless steeled herself for the worst.

All she had to do was last for the whole movie without screaming. It was only an hour and a half or so, after all. Even if there was a lot of blood or something, surely she could handle that. Luka even bled once when they were eight and she’d patched him up with an assortment of cat-themed bandages without fainting even once.

She was sobbing hysterically and had nightmares about it afterwards, but still.

And at the end of the day, even horror movies were an art form just like any other movie, and she loved art. She could appreciate it artistically, thus distancing herself entirely from the—

…W-wow, they… they really made that look realistic. That corpse is… the visual artist did a great job on that. Yep. You can tell that body is definitely very, very dead…

——

Thirty minutes in, and Marinette was decidedly not okay. As she’d (poorly) prepared for, the movie did in fact have a deceptively-innocent opener, and everything after that was a rollercoaster that only went downwards.

Though at least with a rollercoaster, she’d be screaming in delight rather than terror, and she had to bite down her jumpscare-induced scream to the point where she thought she might bite her tongue in half.

Naturally, the mental image that thought brought only sent another wave of disgust through her. What started as her trying to appreciate the movie as an artist quickly turned her into a baker stacking on layers of denial and biting into a cake flavored with nausea.

Nausea on an empty stomach because she hadn’t even touched their snacks and drinks, frozen in place and unable to do much of anything.

She wanted out, her free hand squeezing the poor couch cushion underneath her to no reprieve. The only thing grounding her was Luka, his hand tight against her side and almost hurting her in the process, but that actually made it worse. If he were squeezing her side, the only explanation she could muster was that he knew she was still struggling and opted to comfort her wordlessly rather than address it and potentially embarrass her.

Trying to keep her face as neutral as possible, she looked up at Luka - partly to make an excuse about how she was only shaking because it’s so cold no really but also to get some relief with his handsome face - yet actual words ended up failing her at the sight.

Even in the limited illumination provided by the TV, it was obvious that Luka’s face had paled. His pupils were shrunken in as he stared ahead at the screen and he was blatantly biting down on his bottom lip. Even glancing at the hand that wasn’t against her side, it was in a tight enough fist that his knuckles were white.

“L-L…Luka…?”

He also had never failed to respond whenever she called his name before, not even once. It occurred extremely belatedly to her that Luka wouldn’t have let this go on for so long had she been as scared as she is, and the shaking that should’ve given it away was ignored based on one factor.

Luka was shaking as well.

“L-Luka!”

Movement returned to her body, her hand coming undone with her death grip on the cushion. Not caring nor particularly thinking about which button she might push, she leaned forward and slammed her fist down on the remote.

She only wanted it to end.

The movie blipped off, the sound cutting and screen flickering before turning black. It left them both in darkness for a second until a white text box appeared, telling her that there was no input detected.

The little bit of light allowed her to fix her shaky gaze on Luka again, who snapped back to reality at the realization that the movie had abruptly ended. She even caught the moment that his confusion turned to dread at what she must’ve witnessed to have done what she did.

“M-Marinette…” He trailed off, struggling for a response.

“You…y-you hate h-horror too?”

He avoided her eyes, staring off at things she was certain he couldn’t make out in the darkness. Her hand was still on his thigh and she squeezed for the both of them.

“…I thought you weren’t s-scared of horror movies anymore,” Luka eventually replied.

She couldn’t tell if he was evading or warming her up to his answer, but the night had gone in none of the ways she was hoping. Instead of a romantic atmosphere, they were both anxious and sick from what they’d just watched.

Exasperated at the situation, Marinette threw her arms up and admitted, “O-of course I’m still scared! Horror is—” She hesitated, mind slogging along pathetically slow, and ended up settling for, “—well, h-horrible! I just w-wanted to impress you!”

“You—you didn’t have to do that.” Luka shook his head. “I-I’m already impressed by you.”

Except that wasn’t all, was it? She was going above and beyond for a confession and now it was ruined. She pouted, lamenting, “Yeah, b-but…”

Rubbing her side with one hand, he used his other to pick up the one nearest to him. He took a long breath, trying to steady his voice before speaking again. “I’m sorry. This is my fault too. I…I should’ve said something.”

“Why d-didn’t you?”

It bothered her more than she’d admit out loud that she hadn’t known. She believed strongly that friends - even couples - should be allowed to have their own secrets, but not knowing about a fear, or at least what he hated? She’d hope to know those things even if it was simply to help him avoid them.

Luka took another breath, the words apparently difficult to get out otherwise. Meeting her eyes, he began with, “…You’re not the type of person to play a one-man band.”

“H-huh?”

“You bring so much beautiful music to everyone’s lives, but not everyone does the same for you. It takes a lot of effort to learn an instrument and play to someone else’s tune.”

She blushed. She couldn’t speak about the supposed beautiful music she brought, but it did take a lot of thought and determination to truly learn about someone. That didn’t make it work for her, but that didn’t mean it was easy either.

Luka turned to face her more, leaning down to be more level with her. Strands of blue and black brushed against one another as he pressed his forehead to hers, hesitant in his movements but passionate all the same. Marinette pressed back, welcoming the warmth and the rare contact that they hadn’t shared before.

He continued in a whisper, “Duets take everything up a level. It’s not enough to know or play the same way you always do: you have to be there for your partner and try to play the notes they can’t.”

There was something tender - vulnerable, even - in his words. Gears turned, things clicking into place in her head, and sky blue eyes reflected ocean blue ones as her hopes finally registered to her as reality.

Marinette reached up with both hands, grabbing onto Luka’s shoulders and pushing herself against him. He couldn’t even get her name out of his mouth before she used her weight to knock him down, leaving him breathless and laying against the cushions while her face was buried against his chest.

“I love you too,” she murmured, not caring if it was muffled or not; she knew he would hear her just fine.

She was close enough that she could feel his heart racing, his hands moving to rest on her back and keep her there like he wanted her to hear. She gripped the fabric of his shirt, her face hot at knowing that the heart rate had nothing to do with the movie they’d just watched.

Hers didn’t either.

“Let’s not do this ever again,” she said lightheartedly. “I’ve seen enough horror for the rest of my life.”

Luka hummed in agreement. “I don’t think that’ll stop Jule from watching them when I’m at home.”

“Then don’t be home. You can come here.”

He placed a hand down on the cushion, pushing himself up and wrapping his other arm fully around her to maintain their hold. “I’ll be home no matter what.”

She giggled affectionately, bringing her arms fully around him to return the embrace.

“…Marinette,” he began cautiously.

“Mm?”

He rubbed her back, the shake in his voice returning as he asked, “Can I stay…?”

The question sounded silly on the surface. They’d already agreed to have a sleepover and she’d had her lounge chair set up already to be as comfortable as possible, but his tone gave away the meaning underneath. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing.

“…Yeah. Please.”

——

After putting their untouched snacks and drinks away (a consciously empty stomach was better than a forced empty stomach if the nausea didn’t go away), the two went upstairs, brushed their teeth and washed their hands with the sink in Marinette’s room, and completely passed by the lounge chair.

Luka settled himself into her bed like he was afraid of breaking it, yet somehow looked like he belonged there. Marinette slid in right next to him, legs wiggling and hands eagerly reaching out to welcome him. Absolutely delighted, he shifted closer, allowing her to roam his chest with her hands and feel the fabric of the shirt she made that he was so proudly wearing.

“Did me getting hurt back then really make you more scared of blood?” he wondered aloud, continuing a conversation they’d had while getting ready for bed. It was a strangely good distraction even if the subject was still technically horror-based.

“W-we were eight!” Marinette excused, faintly embarrassed. “I didn’t know how the human body worked and I thought you didn’t have that much blood to spare!”

“Because I was a little pale?” he guessed, as if this was all intensely interesting to him. It was cute.

“No? You were…” She ran a hand through his hair as an example. “You were so pillow-y and soft, inside and out? You were sweet, and your hair was even thicker and fluffier back then.” She giggled sheepishly at her younger self. “Honestly, I thought you were made of marshmallow?”

He laughed. “I thought that would’ve been you.”

“Luka!”

“I’m serious,” he insisted. With added amusement to his tone, he added, “Am I still pillow-y and soft?”

Unconsciously, Marinette swallowed and pulled her hand away from his chest. “E-erm… more or less?”

“More or less?” he prodded.

Feeling attacked even by his genuine curiosity, Marinette rolled over with a huff. “T-the softness moves around from different places, but it’s still the same amount?”

Luka followed after her, arms going around her waist so he could spoon her. “I’m just glad that not much has changed.”

“Y-yeah.”

He wasn’t wrong. She figured that they must be dating now, yet it really felt like not much has changed. More of the same tended to be considered a negative thing, but she only shivered in excitement thinking about having that with Luka.

More creative sessions, more physical contact, more Luka. It was such an alluring thought.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Hm~?”

Rubbing along the arms around her waist in a way she hoped was reassuring, she clarified, “Did something make you scared of horror? Or just more scared?”

“Ah.” Luka smiled sadly. “That was Jule. I never told her.”

“Juleka?” Marinette turned her head to try and see his expression, growing worried. “D-did something bad happen to her? You don’t have to talk about it if—”

“No, nothing happened.” He briefly shifted positions to place a kiss to her temple; a wordless apology for accidentally making her fret over him. “She loved horror movies, even when we were little. I went to bed first, and I didn’t even know she was watching anything.”

Marinette imagined that for a moment, then shuddered, realizing where this was going. “L-Luka…”

“I don’t even know what movie it was, but I heard the screaming.” Luka paused, still sounding haunted by the memory. “I’m sure there must’ve been something that should’ve told me that it wasn’t real, but…”

“You were still a little boy,” she finished, “and it sounded like someone was attacking your family, the only two people you had in your life.”

He held her tighter, nodding. “I found out it was just a movie when I went to look, but I never forgot the feeling.”

Marinette whimpered. “T-that’s…that’s not fair!”

“Jule didn’t know,” he defended immediately. “She probably thought I was asleep and just kept the volume—”

“No! Because—” She squirmed helplessly. “Because I can’t go back in time and meet you sooner! You didn’t have any friends to talk to or comfort you!”

He chuckled, the heaviness in his voice lessening. “Maybe, but you can do whatever you want with me now?”

With a huff, Marinette decided to do just that. She twisted around so Luka’s grip loosened, taking his face in her hands so she could kiss the bridge of his nose. He hummed in content, clearly approving of it.

Then, pouting, she thought aloud, “My story seems a little silly after that.”

“It’s not,” he argued, back on the defensive. “I love that you worried about me so much, even if I don’t like how it hurt you.” Frowning in concern, he reached up to her face and observed, “You still look worn out from the movie too.”

“Y-you do too,” she noted, seeing blatantly on his face that he wasn’t just tired from a need to sleep.

The back of his fingers brushed her lower eyelid and cheek in concern, the close proximity allowing her to smell the blend of his scent and the soap they’d used at her sink. She caught his hand before he could pull it back, intertwining their fingers and bringing them to her lips without quite kissing them. She returned his gesture, easily sliding her hand to the side of his head and running her thumb across whatever skin it could reach from there. He relaxed, eyes half-lidded and content.

She took in the scent again, this time being mixed in with her own hand’s fragrance like some form of soothing balm. Of course, Luka had used the same soap as her before whenever they hung out at the same house, but it felt more intimate this time.

The soap was like a compliment, or like the bridge between their respective scents; the needle between the seamstress and thread or the strings between a guitar and its musician. It occurred to her that it would always be like that if they lived together someday, and the mental image of Luka waking up to her in the morning, blissfully taking in the smell of the hair products she used despite using the same himself, was almost too much for her.

“Marinette?” Luka called out softly, the hand she was holding gripping a little tighter in an unspoken question.

She didn’t know what her face looked like, but she must’ve had a lot of emotions on display. She refused to be “stupid” anymore, not wanting to delay their understanding of one another like they had before.

“…T-they won’t be your only family,” she dared to say, whispering but simultaneously speaking with her whole heart. “Not forever.”

His lips parted in surprise, eyes scanning her to confirm what she’d definitely meant.

Their hands between their bodies suddenly felt like an obstacle, Marinette letting him go so she could cup his cheeks.

“I’ll say something first next time,” she declared, given that he’d confessed before her despite her plans, “a-and it definitely won’t be over a horror movie.”

She kissed him instead of clarifying further, certain that he got the message. Luka’s body came alive at the motion, legs tangling and a hand moving her wrist to invite her touch to his neck.

Judging by how he kissed back, he’d accepted the challenge.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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hanjyukutamago · 1 year

Text

to kill a shadow

(imagine based on the graves' betrayal scene) (also definitely not proofread) (edited bcs i wanted to make the story longer) (also this is my first time writing a fic--well at least after 5-6 years?? so pls be kind to me uwu)

words count: 5,655 character count: 31,118

contents: violence, guns, blood, everything you would find in a typical cod game ofc(can be read as reader!!) x ghost x soap(platonic), everyone r mates, mentions of death, angst!!

(illustration is mine)

"Johnny, Mouse. How copy?"

"Solid."

"Great. Thought we lost you there. Mouse, how copy?"

Silence.

"Mouse?"

Not now, Ghost. I'm working right now. She thought to herself, a knife held tight in her left hand. Crouching right behind a Shadow soldier, her small figure gets even smaller, undetectable to the eyes of the American.

Small hands show to either shoulder of the soldier, the right holding his vest and the left stabbing right to the arteries on the neck. Making sure that there won't be any eyewitnesses, she withdrew the knife to her right, making a big slash no one could able to survive.

The soldier went limp, her right hand already on the vest went tense holding the weight of a dead man two times bigger than her, then left hand soon helped after sheathing the knife back into its pocket. Slowly she put down the soldier to the ground, making sure there was no noise made.

"Mouse busy. Killed a shadow."

"Was already thinking on how to look for a dead body as small as you." Ghost sighed in relief, two comrades alive is better than one.

"No need to. Mouse dead, more Mouse show up later. "

"Yes, and we've got a whole exterminator team outside." Ghost said, his voice low, reminding her of the situation. The sergeant tried to flip her brain right to left, front to back, trying to find a solution. There is no way they're going to hide along the way to safety right? There are just too many of them. Fully armed too, to remind her of their disadvantages.

She was lucky she still had her knife sheathed into her vest when the chaos broke out. Turns out Graves was not the cooperative man they were expecting to be. A fight between teams in this kind of situation is the last thing you would want. Especially against the ones who own attack aircraft that would end anyone in seconds.

The city of Las Almas probably is not the best, most peaceful one in the world, but it has its own charms; the music, the voice of children laughing, the chatter of people, it is never quiet in the city Los Vaqueros dearly loves.

Mouse took a small peek outside the alley, the first one after the last hour running and looking for a shelter to hide. The road that used to be so bright, so busy with locals running here and there is now dark, with nothing but bodies on the ground; men and women-children and also babies, the oh-so-beautiful terracotta floor painted with a shade of blood, streaming down the street, wet with rain.

"Bloody hell." She cursed under her breath, which is definitely the most normal reaction to this kind of scenery. "Does Graves know that they're doing a fucking war crime here?" The three of them can definitely hear the screams of wives, and scared husbands usually followed by a bang that ends them all, and the interrogative Shadows trying to force the Iranian out of his hiding, at least that is what they believe.

"These are innocent civilians..." Soap replied, she can hear the rustling behind his voice, probably still moving around trying to find a place safe enough to take a breath peacefully. "Shadows trying to play hero, aye?"

"Typical American move. Ghost, any ideas on how to escape this shithole?" Mouse has never been happy working with Graves, Shepherd, and anyone who's on their side. Too many orders, no solution. Too many noises for a small mission. She is not a fan of those unnecessary brrrts from the sky but she doesn't hate it, the Warthog-faced plane had saved her life numerous times.

"Stay low. Move through the houses. Make use of what you have. " The Lieutenant is a man of few words, but she had to admit that the things coming out of his mouth are usually useful.

Lucky. Mouse thought to herself, "I've got a knife with me. Soap?"

"Shite, got nothing on me. Probably dropped it somewhere in the forest--ouch--" Soap groaned, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the pain on his right shoulder, it keeps on coming back.

"Soap, you injured?" Mouse went into the empty-used-to-be-homey-coffee shop, her whole body complaining because instead of the sweet smell of her beloved coffee, she is greeted by the fishy smell of dried blood.

"Bullet to my right shoulder. But I'll be fine." Mouse nodded to herself, acknowledging Soap's report. Relying on the minimal light from the street and bright Shadow Jeep headlamp, she scoured the area looking for any extra weapons. It may be an empty house right now, but it still feels bad stealing something that used to be someone's. Especially when they're right there, eyes open wide with blood coming from the hole right between their jaw. The blood is fresh, meaning the Shadows were here, not long ago.

"Give me a sit-rep."

"Welcome to Starbucks, what would you like for today, Sir?" Mouse was proud of that one. She and Soap have been competing on who can make Ghost laugh harder. "Brits don't drink coffee, Mouse." Soap chimed, and she swear she could hear the targeted man chuckle a little. "Wid ye lik' some cuppa, Sir?" He continued teasing Ghost, he enjoys doing it every time. The comedian duo laughed together, satisfied by the joke. "MacTavish, sit-rep." Mouse can swear he was holding his laugh too, but for now, his stern reminder of the ignored comment is all they can get. "Rite, rite. Gated alley, Lt."

Mouse loves it every time someone makes a joke on the comms. These small interactions provide a little reminder of them still being human, not man-killing machines. Being in the army has never been easy, and will never be for anyone in the world, whether you're the strongest soldier or weakest loser out there. The emotional toll will always come like a big wave of a tsunami after every mission. When she was a Private, she believed that there is no way the missions would affect her mental health, that as long as she put nothing but her logical side of the brain into it. She was so tired of the stereotypes that women are much more emotional than men and tried so hard to prove them otherwise. But sometimes the percentage is right, and the surveys don't lie. She broke down in silence not long after her first mission.

Mostly, it was the blood. The only times she has seen blood is when it's flowing out of her flesh. The first time she has seen a fresh body it was so weird, and quickly realized how weak a human body could be.

The guilt of not being able to save everyone will never fade away, no matter how many missions she goes on after that. The kid in the Middle East. The small, weak old grandmother in Russia. The young man who died trying to protect his family in front of her.

The man was holding a handgun still wrapped tight by his dead fingers. Mouse noticed the weapon, and proceeded to take it from the cold skin of the owner, gently. This will help me survive outside. Thank you, and sorry I couldn't arrive earlier to help you. She spoke to the lifeless body in her mind, hoping that it would reach him somewhere, that he would forgive her for not being able to save the family.

She then looked around for any ammunition, because if he owned a gun that means he would have the refills for it, right? She thought and while she scoured the master bedroom for more possible useful stuff, she heard footsteps from the front door.

She stopped for a while trying to listen better to the noise, then held the pistol in both hands. By the weight of it, it seems like the previous owner didn't even get to shoot a bullet before having them in their head. Mouse kept her back to the wall, crouching behind the table in the corner of the room. The suspect of the noise stopped for a while, and from her position, she can see nothing but a familiar pair of boots.

The man is like a walking tower, yet his steps are feather-like. Mouse kept her presence hidden, she knows better than anyone that it would be a stupid idea to ambush a 6-foot-tall military man from the front. The scars and wound marks are proof of it.

She was going to wait until the giant walked past her so she could attack him from his back-until his face come into her sight. It was the lieutenant, probably looking for her and the other sergeant. "I'm inside the coffee shop." She could hear Ghost clearly from her comms, also from the man she planned on killing just a minute ago.

"Ghost! Sir!" She whispered loudly. It has been a long while since the last time she felt comfort in her heart. Seeing a familiar figure after hours of hiding in cold rain surely provide some kind of warmth, at least psychologically. The man in the balaclava somehow is fully-geared from head to toe, looking like a killing machine fresh out of the base. He quickly turned his head to the source of the sound, shoulders relaxed upon realizing that it was his junior behind the wooden table.

"Any injuries?" He asked, keeping it short and simple as always.

"No, Sir. Not a single drop of blood out." She answered, finally stood up, and walked to her superior.

"Good. Keep it that way. Gonna need a backup for exfil." He nodded, then proceeded to go upstairs. Mouse follows him automatically, keeping her footsteps light despite the heavy-duty boots. Ghost walked to the side of the window, Shadows can be seen still scanning the area that is now silent because there is no one alive to be killed anymore.

"See that church? We're going to secure our transportation right there." He pointed to the tall building up on the hills, easily visible because of the lights surrounding it. Probably a Shadow team meeting point. Ghost brought the walkie-talkie to his cloth-covered mouth, "Soap, I have regrouped with Mouse. Meet us at the church, how copy?"

"Loud and clear," Soap responded, almost immediately.

"Soap, can you manage? I can regroup with you first." Mouse reminded herself of Soap's injuries, worried about the lad going to the meeting point alone.

"Aye. Bleeding has stopped, kind of. Will somehow manage." He said, followed by a slight chuckle.

"Stay alive, Johnny." Ghost knows Soap probably better than anyone on the team, he would know when the Scotsman needs help or not.

"Roger, Sir."

Ghost moved his head in the direction of the stairs, ordering her to go downstairs first. She then moved to the direction of the kitchen, then opened the door leading to the back alley. The rainy clouds reflected the light from the church, making it easier to find a way out. Ghost followed her, always making sure no one is looking every time they make a turn into another tight alley.

They made their way into another house, the walls yellow-colored with a splash of dark brown here and there, plants on every corner of the room. Must be a cozy house before this shitshow, she thought. Ghost went straight to the kitchen, finding a rather big kitchen knife and handing it to her. 'Make use of what you have', as the skull-faced man one time said.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?" Mouse broke the silence, either it was her habit of being chatty at the wrong times or her attempt on getting her superior to speak more.

"Speak, Sergeant." He answered, eyes on the kitchen cabinets in front of him.

"How come you're so fully geared? You get a special drop or what?" She chuckled at the last sentence like it was a joke, but it really has been in her mind for a while. She has been going in and out of houses for hours, yet didn't find anything to hold on to as a weapon. How come this man has not one, but two rifles on his back?

"Your first guerilla warfare, kid?" He finally turned his back to the smaller women, slightly nodding his head in question. "You've seen my documents, Sir." Her eyes met with his for a second, then moved to the door to move again. He stayed behind her to keep her back, both of them safe.

Mouse tends to overthink her own actions, also over-analyze others' reactions. Usually by how their lips pout, how their eyebrows crease in confusion after she said something weird, and any changes in facial expressions. By Ghost's face not being visible, she could only rely on the slightest of his eye movements. They're a bit sparkly and strong when he's doing his job, dark when something didn't go his way, sometimes soft when he realized his teammate is injured, and she still can't prove it yet but also sometimes when he's looking at her. Is it because she's a woman? Because she's smaller? Looks weaker? Way greener than him? Anything it is, she doesn't care as long as she can keep working with the team.

"Sometimes you just have to let your experience talk, Mousey." He sometimes calls her Mousey when he's feeling a little bit chatty, usually to emphasize how small a mouse, and Mouse is. She doesn't hate it. Quite the contrary, she kinda loves it. It's like when your best friend gave you a nickname only they can use.

"Can't wait to be as experienced as you, Sir." She turned her head to Ghost one last time before stepping the wet road outside, again. They again stopped before making a turn on the alley. "Don't be like me, Sergeant. Do better." He has seen the glory and the muddy, stinky side of being in the army and he wouldn't wish anyone to see what he has seen and feel what he has felt before. If he could make Mouse stop her career in the military, he would. No human should live restlessly and hold the burden of world peace like this. Especially being in the 141 means that no one on the earth would be thankful for what they did, because if one does, that means they had failed on keeping the task force a secret.

"I can see the church, Sir, but there are too many Shadows walking around," Mouse reported to her superior who was behind her. This time Ghost went first, signaling her to get behind the car across the street. "Find cover. We're going to work our way to the church."

"Roger." The car's engine did warm her body for a bit, having it soaked in water for the last hours. She then peeked into the vehicle, the car key still stuck where it should be, feels like a gift from the great heavens for runaways like her.

"Sir, might want to mark this car. Engine's on, everything's there, we get Soap and run." Mouse said, excited to finally flee from the grasp of the Americans.

"Noted. Now let's move." Ghost led the way, avoiding the enemies' eyes which are ready to fire anyone who doesn't look like one of them. The pair kept on hiding behind cars, slowly making their way into the church.

"Any visual on the church?" Ghost asked the other sergeant.

"Aye. Road's blocked, though." Soap looked around for any threats, then moved to a darker alley, hiding in the shadow, from Shadows. "Try and cut through the shops. Much safer." Ghost warned. "Aye, sir. On my way."

After countless houses and shops, Ghost and Mouse finally reached the side fence of the church. The front steps were heavily guarded by an army of Shadows, making it not an option to sneak from the main gate. They could feel some kind of relief once they stepped on the cold granite floors of the religious building. Shadows might be carefree enough to kill civilians for zero reasons, but they wouldn't be brave enough to attack a church... right?

Whatever the truth is, they proceeded to go to the higher floor of the church. "I'll go first. Watch my back." Ghost said, holding his rifle tight. The church looks like it hasn't been touched by the chaos, chairs, altar, and everything still in place.

Ghost placed himself near the window of the fifth floor, prepared to give Soap the backup he would probably need when he reaches the building. Just right after he placed his sniper rifle(which Mouse kept staring at because how the fuck did he get that?), he noticed a figure that definitely doesn't belong in the Shadows squad. The figure ran into an alley, probably inside the house. The soldiers were facing another direction, not aware enough to notice him.

The pair both know it's ninety-nine-percent Soap who is inside the house. Ghost aimed his rifle at the front door of the said building, his eyes fixed right on the scope. "I'm nearby, Sir," Soap reported through the radio.

Soap was going to open the front door slowly and sneak up to the church, but it was unfortunately locked from the outside. Either he didn't realize that there are enemies outside of the house or a pure case of having so little patience left, he tried prying open the wooden door. Which of course was followed by a rather big noise considering you're hiding from a whole squadron trying to kill you.

"No, no, no, Soap! Not like that!" Mouse loudly whispered, her heart beating fast and muscles tense watching Soap's action from behind the walls of safety, or so she thought.

Soldiers swarmed the door in an instant, meeting one of the guys they have been looking for hours. A loud bang of gunfire echoed, not from the Shadow, but from the man beside Mouse.

Heads soon turned in the direction of the church, giving Soap time to escape. Shadows soon swarmed the church from the front gate, rifles on hand, definitely not trying to repel their sins. If you have done one war crime, why not add more, yeah? Nothing will change anyways.

"We've got visitors here! Meet me on the steps outside!" Ghost packed his sniper rifle, switching to a smaller, M4A1. They ran to the other side of the tower and went downstairs hoping that there will be fewer Shadows there. The American soldiers sure are fast, as one, or two already reached the fifth floor they were camping on. Mouse shot a bullet, piercing through the unprotected area of his face, replied by a bang from the other side. Two bodies dropped to the floor, one in all-black attire and one with a British flag on the right sleeve.

Ghost noticed the fight behind him, then turned his face to find that Mouse isn't there. She might sometimes be stubborn, but there was no time she doesn't obey an order. Ghost was midway to the 4th floor, then just as he was about to reach the fifth, another bang echoed, followed by a heavy thud.

He always has worst-case scenarios prepared in his head, and one is to work out his muscle a little bit and carry Mouse to safety somewhere in this mission. Sometimes his habit gets really spooky and becomes a reality.

"Don't--pick me up. I can go by myself." She grunts, holding up her body with the help of the wall, one hand waving to Ghost, signaling him to not worry. She is not scared of blood, but she hates the smell and the texture of it. She hasn't dared to look at her wound but can feel it from her inner left thigh. "Fast, before another Shadow shows up and kills us both."

Ghost opened his pocket and took out a leather belt, then fastened it right above her wound. He tightened it as much as it could go, then poked a new hole with a knife, the belt resting nice and steady, and of course doing the job of reducing the blood loss at the very least.

"Now we can move." Ghost gave a look of approval in his eye, then helped Mouse to stand straight on the ground. "Quick. I can hear the footsteps. You go first."

Mouse nodded, and they change places. Ghost gave an extra look every time he checks his back, and also every time Mouse took another step downstairs. They stop every time the rustling of army vests and heavy steps of the boots can be heard, wait until they are gone, or shoot them when they're heading their way. Mouse kept count of how many bullets will be left in her handgun, making sure every bullet out are deadly accurate. By the time they reached the ground floor, she only got two left inside the weapon.

Finally made his way to the steps outside the fenced church, Soap was a tad bit confused when he couldn't see any Shadows there. "I'm here, Lt! Area clear, no Shadows!" He reported, but of course, there would be no Shadows outside, because they were all inside chasing for the other two 141 members.

The wooden gate of the church opens, showing a limping small soldier and following a tall man with a skull balaclava, both running for their dear life. "Soap!" Ghost shouted to the man waiting outside of the fence, moving to his location to regroup. Soap shot the gates' lock with a handgun he found earlier, strapped to the body of a dead Shadow. He then opened the heavy gate with his unwounded arm, making it easier for the pair to exit the area they were in.

"Steamin' Jesus, Mouse! Y'alright?" Soap noticed the gunshot wound, the camo cargo pants now dyed dark red. Adrenaline keeps Mouse up, running, and shooting bullets, but other than that, she finds it hard to process. She finds it hard to make a proper sentence to answer him, so she just ran to the car she found before going into the church.

"Mouse found a car before we got here. We need to secure the vehicle!" Ghost ran behind Soap and Mouse, then noticed how Mouse became less and less fast. The bullet probably grazed her femoral arteries, and although not completely sever it, it's still one of the main arteries and it will leak more and more blood as she goes. It is undoubtedly Ghost's belt did wonders because if it doesn't she would've been dead from blood loss right now.

Ghost, being the only unwounded one then ran to the front of them, then picked up Mouse along the way. Usually, Mouse would've resisted, but she had little to no energy for that. "What... the... fuck..." She moved her mouth slowly, still processing what had happened, why is she on the lieutenant's shoulder, why is she not running anymore. One good thing is, Mouse is small enough, at least for Ghost, to carry on his right shoulder.

"Soap, use this!" Ghost passed his assault rifle to the sergeant. "Cover us!" He opened the back door of the Jeep, placing Mouse in a position where she could sit comfortably. Her eyes are still open, aware of everything that is occurring in front of her, but not strong enough to react. The handgun was still held tightly in her left hand, her right hand on the car seat, holding the weight of her body. The blood seems like it's not going to stop any time soon. She grunts, and straightened her body, planning on giving support by making the best out of the two bullets inside her gun.

Soap got inside the car, passenger's seat, and Ghost is driving. The car engine is still on, just like the time they found it. Ghost hit reverse, did a whole donut then hit the gas, reaching the speed that definitely will get anyone a ticket if the town is in its normal state. The Shadows, of course not giving up yet, tried to chase the stolen car. Soap shot rounds of bullets, killing the Shadow that was shooting at them. The driver is still chasing them, but no matter how many times Soap pulls the trigger, the bullets are not coming out. Mouse realized the crisis they're in right now and moved her body to the left side of the seat, took a look at the target, and shoots him. The first bullet was stopped by the window, and the second, the last bullet hit the driver near his neck. Was not the headshot she expected it to be, but still enough to help them run away.

Mouse let out a sigh, adrenaline stopped pumping and a wave of fatigue washes over her. She rested her head on the headrest, then moved her eyes, scanning the inside interior of the car. 'Oh, right' She thought, as her eye stopped on the wet wound. Everything is slow and blurry, and all she thought about was how she wanted to throw her body to a bed and sleep.

"Don't you dare sleep, Osborne." Ghost took a peek in the rearview mirror, finding the sergeant about to doze off. Soap turns his body, keeping a look on the wounded soldier in the back seat. "I'll keep my eyes on her, Lt. Keep driving." He said, and he kept his words, as he literally stared at Mouse without even blinking.

Mouse found the sergeant's action funny and let out a weak chuckle. "Stop. You're scary." Mouse knew that it was game over once she closes her eye. She knows it too well, she has seen it too many times, more than enough.

"Where are we going, Sir?" Soap asked the driver, eyes still on Mouse. "Alejandro has a safe house. We're meeting his men there." If Ghost could go faster, he would. The thing is, this is the fastest a Jeep could go. The blocked roads are also not helping. Soap unfastened his seat belt, then jumped to the back seat. "I'm sorry, little mouse, you know I hate violence but I had to do this."

He hit Mouse's cheeks from both sides, squeezing them and bringing his face closer to hers. "Let's do a little quiz, aye? What's your favorite subject in school?" The surprise slap and sudden quiz did open Mouse's eyes a little bit. "Heh, Lame." The driver chimed in.

"What the fuck, Soap." She laughed. "Mom wansme goodadmahhs." Every second she finds it harder and harder to move her body parts, her mouth not excluded. "Mouse... badadid." Her eyes started getting teary, Soap's question brought up some good memories of her hometown. "Tellmamom... Sorry-ah-lie...d." Her body shakes every time she sniffled, her head full of regret for not being honest with the people she loves.

"You tell them yourself, Natalie. Maybe after we are back in the UK?" Soap's mission was only one, and that is to keep the other sergeant talking. Having little to no energy left, Mouse nodded, hoping that her body wouldn't have to be sent to her house, because it will be funny that Natalie Osborne, who's supposed to be working in the paperwork department of the SAS, died because of a bullet wound.

People who have seen her documents, in this case, Captain Price and Lieutenant Riley, must've known that her parents actually knew about their daughter being in the task force. Her dad actually once became suspicious and called directly to the military hotline. He told them not to tell her, though, because he knows she would be embarrassed as fuck if that happened.

They were approaching the road out of the city but were met with barbed wires, preventing citizens to escape from the lockdown. Ghost didn't hesitate and drove through it, finally getting them out of the destroyed city. The surroundings of the car shifted from the street lights to the dark mountains, and them getting closer to the safe house. She doesn't know if it's because of the lack of lamps, but Mouse felt like her vision is getting darker as time passes. Her headache is gradually getting stronger and her eyelids get heavier each second.

"Hold on, Mousey. The safe house is close. We'll patch you up first thing first." Ghost held tight on the steer, he is not panicking, but no one will ever get used to seeing their teammate's soul slipping out of their hand. They are so close, so close to saving Mouse from the death's door.

"Am sleepy, Simon..." Consciousness fading in and out, she doesn't even realize she's calling her superior by his given name. Wrinkles show up between Soap's eyes, worried about the inevitable. "Come on, hey, you said Mouse don't die, aye?" He gave her cheeks some light taps, in an attempt to wake her up again.

Mexico is not supposed to be this cold, even if it's a rainy night. She doesn't know, it's her first time visiting the country. She could see Soap's mouth moving as if he was talking to her, but she couldn't hear anything. The last thing she wanted to do was to talk. She just wants to lay down somewhere warm and comfy, then sleep.

It all makes sense now. She's not going to be a better person than the Lieutenant, she's not going to be the first female captain in the SAS. The book is closing, and it is by an American betrayer. Should she become a wandering spirit, she will ghost Graves anytime she could. Yeah, that's probably a good plan for her future. She unconsciously chuckled with her last drop of energy, and finally succumbed to the fatigue.

"No, no, no, no, no--Fuck! We're losing her!" He slammed his fist to the car seat, then immediately rushed to fold Mouse's sleeves up and took her gloves off, desperate for any signs of a heartbeat. "How long 'til we get there, Lt?" He finally took his eyes off Mouse after a good hour and gave the Lieutenant a look from the rearview mirror.

"One last turn. Hold tight." Ghost made a hard turn but hardly a drift, the trees fading, and a big barn came into sight. It looks clean but somehow abandoned, with nothing but the field of grass surrounding it.

"I'll carry her. Johnny, you take care of your own wound." Ghost got out of the car first, then opened the back door. "Aye, Sir." Soap nodded, then walked to the said safe house. He kneeled to the iron plates on the ground, suspicious of the placement.

Ghost let out a heavy sigh, then carried the limp body out of the vehicle. He could feel her chest rise and fall softly, a sign for him to not give up hope. He may not say it out loud, but having his subordinate injured under his watch leaves a big guilt on him.

He stopped walking behind the kneeling Scotsman, and he too noticed the object on the grass. "Rigged plates." Soap deducted. "Smart bastard." Ghost approved, amazed by the Mexican Special Forces colonel.

Soap went inside through the open window, his now freshly loaded rifle ready in his hand scanning the lowly lighted area. Ghost followed with Mouse on his shoulder, and a red dot appeared on Soap's forehead. "Don't move." He ordered the sergeant, then a knife was sent flying in the direction of the laser, landing on the wooden pole.

"Who's there?" A familiar sound asked, answered by Soap who realized the owner of the voice. "Rodolfo!" He called, and the mentioned man then appeared from behind the pole.

"Soap! Ghost! Mouse!" His eyes light up, seeing his amigos alive and moving, but his face soon turned the opposite when he laid his eyes on Ghost's shoulder. He jumped out of his hiding, and gave back the knife Ghost threw at him, rushing to help them carry the injured sergeant.

"You guys equipped with proper infirmary?" Ghost waved his hand, signaling the Mexican that he will carry Mouse by himself. "Come," He nodded, then did a light jog to the light switch, turning on some of the barn's light sources. He then pulled down a lever, and wooden barn doors opened, showing them another door, hopefully, filled with medical equipment.

Ghost laid down her body on the hard bed, and gave her one last look, his eyes soft as always. The curious eyes that used to look up at him, were now closed, skin pale. He sighs, he has never been good at expressing emotions, on how to act when his teammate is nearly dying, in front of him. The Los Vaqueros had a combat medic, thank whoever's up there. The British Special Forces went out of the room, entrusting the life of little Mouse in the Mexican soldier's hands.

Whatever results that will come out of the door, one thing that Ghost, and Soap know, is that they were not ready to lose another friend. At least after they all saw her efforts in climbing the harsh world of the army. All those hard work, all the times they have bonded together as a team, as mates. How are they supposed to see Price's face after all this? How to tell Gaz? How to move on to another mission with one gear missing?

They don't have enough time to worry, never enough time for anything. They had to move forward, plan on getting their revenge on Graves and Shepherd, free Alejandro, find Hassan, and save the world from chaos.

One thing they keep in their head, is that you can never kill a Mouse. They will always come back, usually smarter, and even harder to kill. As someone once said:

"Mouse dead, more Mouse show up later. "

#cod ocs #cod oc #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod ghost #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #cod reader insert #natalie mouse osborne #angst #how could a strip of comic became 5k words fanfic #simon ghosy riley x reader

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esorxy · 4 months

Text

daily updates of thoughts while reading crimson rivers

afterthoughts::

this was so beautifully written and well plotted, it had some of the best scenes and dialogues, and had me swooning, in shock, all of that

(particularly regulus') character development!!! insane!!! this has left me unsatiable, jegulus has me in a chokehold

oh the romance was so sweet, and ever so rewarding after all of the hurt, both jegulus and wolfstar

my only complaint is that its way too long like i lost so much sleep over this, at the end i was so impatient i kept skipping all the side characters povs cos i just wanted to be done with it

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day 1. 10% (games just started)

it took 80k words to get to the start of the games .... what did i get myself into. and i saw tiktoks going like the jegulus WEDDING ?!?!?!?!?! love it when sirius cannot form coherent sentences around remus, but he needs some distraction they literally have the worse luck ever. I'm so glad they dont have horrible communication issues, maybe because theyre all about to die.

oh and if the jegulus parting 'present' wasnt the saddest way to separate especially since they think theyre going to die

aside, i keep comparing sirius to quackity in that hunger games fic and then i remember how much better the dsmp fanfics were especially since i can actually recall the details after like 2 years. back when i thought 100k+ was a long fic oh how naive

so so far, pretty good, im invested in the story enough to not be bored but not THAT invested

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day 2. 31% (games ended, just before interview)

im fuckin invested. why whyyyy so much pain. regulus never fails to be the most hurt in any room aye. and james being touch starved?!? i lived for that shit.

why was it that reading about the games was so thrilling. the life/death oml give my boys a fucking break. they're out now and still no comfort, the only break theyre getting is a break up wtf!!

asides about the games, james was just a dumbass about peter, evan my beloved as always (and glad that the author shares that sentiment), and what the fuck regulus just realising at the end that he had nothing to live for if james died asfhhdsjjfsgjjf

why the fuck was i not satisfied with reading cute one shots or 100k fics,,, the length of this, i don't want to sleep i don't want to eat god help me with this addiction

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day 3. 60% (second games started)

honestly the lack of a mcd tag is the only thing getting me through this. the hope!! i relate to regulus so much on that.

and that's also the only reason im forgiving them for all being fucking IDIOTS and not making the most of their time together. now is the time to profess your love and get your spine realigned my darlings

why is there literally a force field preventing james and regulus from being happy together??? well im not complaining too much because that means that anything they do now is extra special. regulus not being able to resist james??? gahhh im gone.

also them having tea together and actually starting to heal oh theyre so sweet they dont deserve that cruel world.

they literally chose the worst time ever to make up, at least they did at some point, but man they really confessed and got engaged right before... probable death...

oh the amount of pain my poor boys are going through, i wish they can all escape and live in some cozy domestic paradise with everyone they love. but they have to suffer first otherwise the happiness in the end doesn't count for anything.

oh. my. god. CRYING regulus trying to get sirius to kill him and then going soft at the last moment, and i can't believe sirius almost got baited like that and was really about to kill him. but REGULUS, oh my, my sweet gentle boy, he tried so hard, and the aftermath left everyone in fucking pieces.

it is 2.30am, and it takes literally half an hour to make a 2% dent, and i am HOOKED

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day 4. 80% (healing at phoenix)

regulus is on his way to being my favourite and it's entirely cos he's so angsty and unhinged. following through with all of his threats??? fucking hilarious, and his desperate love confessions and having a meltdown every 2 seconds. hes a wreck GET HELP.

sirius, such a literal icon, i strive for his level of don't give a fuck. "what pasta"?!?! my god i love him. hes so gone on remus its sickening. when dumbles asked for his blood, sirius being possessive?!?! if i was remus i would have folded right then and there, literally sold, this man owns him

james high and being obsessed with regulus the angel?!!! im swooning, literal heart attack material. best scene so far.

i love regulus' character development, hes levelled up to be james' first man. goodbye sirius but tbh he has more than enough problems on his own. oh jegulus is so achingly sweet i will not shut up about it. this is the reward after reading through so much couples angst. they love each other so much IM CRYING, the way regulus looked after him after the rescue mission, in all the ways that James didn't after the first games, oh they're finally together and happy, i would die for them.

i am PISSED at how long this fic is. the amount of nothing that I've done these past few days to read this, after this im going to exclusively read one shots for a whole entire week.

🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥

day 5. 100%

sirius dissociating on the roof and remus sitting with him, im sobbing

yeah im deadass sick of the comfort now, theyve had too much that its not special anymore. i just want it to end already.

jegulus finally getting their dream life and dancing by the fireplace,,,, aaaand theyre getting married ahhhhh, my boys,, theyve come so far, i have no words

james holding regulus in bed while they watch the rain to help with his aquaphobia?!!! if thats not the most angsty romantic beautiful scene ever, im in love

why is it so fucking funny that james gets high from getting railed with a dagger to his throat, like legit my man CANNOT even form thoughts anymore hes so far gone 🤐

happily married with 4 kids, its too perfect, domestic, im in shock

aaand guess what im finally finally finished. that took way too long, reading fanfiction should be a full time job.

im never reading anything over 200k in the near future, that was way too much emotional commitment.

#crimson rivers #marauders ao3 #marauders fic recs

0 notes

kingdaddydaichi · 3 years

Note

One of my favorite stories I’ve ever read is “Lessons Learned”. So I would like to request something similar with a mixture of Hard dom/ Brat tamer Bakugou ❤️‍🔥 Take it in whatever direction you want, I know I’ll enjoy it however it ends up 😏

@ssplague, bestieeee! Tysm! 🥺💕 I'm sooooo fucking sorry it took me so long to answer your ask! It made me weak the first time I read it! I've got so many other wips I should probably be working on rn, but I finally said FUCKIT! I nEED this in my life rn!

I LOVED writing Lessons Learned - god! It was hard to get through tho. Nearly every time I sat down and started working on it, it always ended the same way and that's all I'ma say rn! 😈

Yes. I see your HardDom!BratTamer!Bakugou and raise you Jealous!Exhibitionist!Bakugou. 💅🏼💋

I hope it's worth the wait...

MINORS 👏🏼 DO 👏🏼 NOT 👏🏼 INTERACT 👏🏼

The Performance 💥 HardDom!BratTamer!Jealous!Exhibitionist! Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader 💥 NSFW

Warnings: slight dubcon, Dom/sub dynamic, possessive dynamic, exhibitionism, marking, circle jerk, creampie, absolute filth

Word Count: 2.9k

It was half past 9 when he walked through the door at the well-to-do club where you'd been enjoying down time with some of your friends. He kissed your cheek and sat down in the half-circle booth next to you, putting his warm, athletic arm over your bare shoulders.

"How long you been waitin'?"

"Maybe an hour?"

He looked down, grumbling. "Got here as soon as I could". He glanced at you with his bottom lip poking out.

You propped your cheek on your hand and smiled at him, rubbing his arm. "I know, babe. It's perfectly fine, I understand".

"Ay, Bakubro! You finally made it!", Kiri yelled from across the table.

Katsuki snarled at him. "Yeah! Some of us have to actually work for a living!"

At that very moment, the cocktail waitress stopped by the table to take Katsuki's order and Mina yelled, "Yes please, for the love of god, get that man a drink!"

He growled at her before turning back to the waitress. "Four fingers of whiskey straight, no chaser".

She scampered off and everyone fell into the chatter and laughs they'd been sharing when Katsuki arrived.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

You were on your way back to the table from the restroom when you felt fingers against your elbow and a voice behind you say, "Hey, (y/n)!"

"Oh hey!" It was a young man a few years younger than yourself who worked in the same office building as you. "Fancy seeing you here". He appeared to be with a couple of friends judging by the prying eyes peering from behind him, smirking.

"I know, right? I've been here a few times, but I don't think I've seen you here before".

"Really? I come here quite regularly and I've seen you here before".

"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I just haven't been paying attention".

"Don't worry about it! I just thought I'd say hi this time".

"I'm glad you did! Maybe I'll see you again the next time I'm here". You waved your fingers at him and started back towards your table again only to see Katsuki's eyes about to burst into flames as he watched you approach.

When you sat down, he leaned in. "Who's he?"

You waved him off. "Just a guy who works in the same building as I do".

"What did he want?"

"Nothing, just wanted to say h-"

"Bullshit". He placed his hand over your thigh under the table. "When a guy looks at a woman the way he was looking at you, trust me baby, he wants something". His large, rough hand squeezed the meat of your thigh beneath it. It hurt and you gripped his wrist in an effort to keep the whine in the back of your throat from escaping. The rest of your party was too close in proximity...at least one or two of them would've heard you. "I don't like it when other guys look at you like that". He dragged his fingers upward, taking the hem of your skirt along with them.

"Katsuki, get ahold of yourself. They're just looking...it's not like they're touching me".

He put his mouth to your ear. "Fuck it. Let 'em look". His hand moved further up your skirt, parting your legs enough that you could feel the cold draft of air against your dampening panties. "It'll just give me every reason I need to show them who you belong to".

His eyes shifted away from yours and you followed them to see what he was looking at. The guy who had just been flirting with you was watching as your husband's hand worked between your legs. His eyes flicked to Katsuki’s whose dark, lopsided, toothy grin spread across his handsome face, pleased that he was making himself clear to the other man that he had already laid his claim on you.

His pinky grazed your clothed, wet slit and you squirmed in your seat, trapping his hand between your thighs hoping it would make him relent. "Stop it, Katsuki", you growled at him.

But he twisted his wrist until he was able to push your panties aside with two of his fingers. He sank said fingers between your inner folds, coating them with your clear slick before curling them upwards to flick them over your hardening clit. You shuddered under his touch as he locked eyes with the other man, making sure he was watching when Katsu raised his fingers to his mouth, sucking them both off at once.

You glanced down to see Katsuki's cock pushing against the fabric of his slacks, tight against him in his sitting position. Showing other men that you belonged to him had always put him in a rut. You used the situation to your advantage and knowing he wouldn't follow you with a half, but nevertheless large, erection for everyone to see, you stood up in one fluid movement, turning away from him and strutting to the bar.

As you waited for the busy bartender to take your order, you noticed the rather strapping gentleman who stood beside you, looking down at his glowing phone screen.

"What can I get for you ma'am?"

You looked back at the bartender, who'd finally spoken to you. "Oh, um- (favorite drink)-"

"On me", the man beside you said.

"Yes sir", the bartender said before turning to his task.

You looked again at the handsome man beside you - taller than Katsuki, but he didn't exude quite the same confidence he did. Then again, not many people did.

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that".

"I know". He gave you a smug, sidelong look. "I wanted to".

You tried to hide your smile, but fuck. His sexiness could easily go head to head with Katsuki's. You watched his eyes travel from your face down to your toes and back up again. You could almost feel your possessive husband's fiery eyes burning a hole in your back.

You turned to face the gentleman beside you, glancing over at the blond in the process. When you focused your gaze back to the man beside you, Katsuki stood up and started stalking towards you. His dick still wasn't completely soft yet, but he didn't care. He probably wanted the man next to you to see the bulge in his pants, using it to his advantage during the impending exchange at the bar. Not many men had a bigger cock than Katsuki and he knew it.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, squaring his hips off at the other man, most likely willing him to notice his size. "Let's go".

You pushed back against him. "Stop Katsu, I'm not ready to go yet".

He locked eyes with the man beside you and put his mouth right up next to your ear. "Would you prefer I fuck you right here on this bar to show everyone who your slutty pussy belongs to? Because I will! You're already wet and aching for my cock, aren't you, pretty girl?"

He was NOT bluffing. You knew your Dom. It had only taken him once before to show you that he was not above covertly pulling his dick out and pushing it inside your hot cunt while standing behind you at a crowded bar, much like the one you were standing at now.

The bartender sat your drink down on a small napkin, but Katsuki pushed it back to him and said, "Oi! Throw this one out and make her another one". He glared at the taller man beside you. "ALL of her drinks are on me, got that?"

He slid two thick fingers inside the plunging neckline of that little black number you wore, carding your hard nipple between them as he rutted his hips against your bottom. "Well?"

A part of you wanted him to fuck you then and there with the other man watching. But you'd never let it actually go that far. "Katsu, please go sit down and I'll be over after I get my drink since I have to wait longer for it now". You rolled your eyes.

He leaned back, his vermillion eyes searching yours until they locked onto the feminine form brushing past your shoulder. He reached out and stopped the cocktail waitress in her tracks, leaning down to her ear, whispering something. Without another word, he calmly walked away and sat back down at the table.

Stubborn as you were, you held your position at the bar. A couple of minutes later, out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement near the table where Katsuki was seated. The same waitress was now leaning down and whispering in his ear, her lips less than an inch from his face. He caught your gaze and smirked before turning his face towards hers. For a second it looked like he might actually kiss her. You were relieved for about half a second when she stood up and started walking away from him, only to watch him stand up as well and follow her up the stairs into the private VIP area.

Now it was your head that was about to explode. I know he did NOT just invite a fucking cocktail waitress to the VIP so he can fuck her! He turned the tables faster than a cheap hooker turns tricks on the streets of Vegas. You knew how other females looked at him. Hell, males too! That girl was probably 10 years your junior too, barely old enough to be serving alcohol. And now you watched as she led your husband up the stairs.

Drink forgotten, you marched your pretty, indignant ass right up to the 2nd level, ready to snatch a bitch up by her hair only to find Katsuki sitting on the couch, alone.

"Seems you're a petty, jealous asshole too".

Relieved, you plopped down on the couch next to your faithful husband, putting your arm over his waist as he pulled you in and kissed your forehead.

You lowered your head to his chest only to notice once again that his cock was pressing against the confines of his pants. You stroked him through the rough material as he raised up, pushing his erection closer to you, physically begging for more of your touch. You palmed him a couple more times before unzipping his slacks and pulling his cock out. He wasn't fully hard yet, but if you had anything to do with it, he was going to be standing at full attention in less than a minute.

You lowered your head further and pushed some spit through your ruby lips onto the angry head of his dick. He watched as you lowered your mouth and swirled your tongue around the smooth texture of his tip before sinking your lips down around him, taking as much of him into your mouth as possible. Not easy, but you're a blow job champ determined to take all of it for the team.

Only a couple of minutes passed by when Katsuki pulled you off his cock. You raised your lusty gaze to see the two men who'd flirted with you standing side-by-side, eyes as big as half dollars at the sight of your tits hanging out of your dress with a fat string of saliva hanging from your bottom lip. Your face snapped to Katsuki who had a shit-eating grin on his face. "What the fuck, Katsuki? Why are they here?"

"Because I had them brought here to watch and see under no uncertain terms who the fuck you belong to!"

Your protest was cut short when Katsuki flipped your body around so that you were facing the back of the couch. He pushed your skirt up around your waist and hooked your soaking panties with his thumb, pushing them aside and holding them against your ass cheek. "I suggest you hold onto something, you bratty cockslut!"

"Baby, no, I don't want them to see-". You averted your eyes from theirs.

Katsuki gave his thick cock a couple of strokes before pushing the head against your weeping entrance.

"Katsuki, you can't-". Your words failed you as he sank his meaty cock inside you.

He looked over at the audience of two, who were enraptured as they watched your husband pull himself nearly all the way out before gliding himself in balls deep again. He set a rhythm, making sure that the two guys who'd had the audacity to flirt with you could see the striations of your slick along his length as he fucked you. The younger of the two, the office boy, had been palming himself through his pants.

"Oh my god, Katsu! They're watching us!"

"I know, that's the fucking point!" Maintaining his pace, he looked at them. "You understand now that she's mine?"

Their mouths moved, but no sound came out. Katsuki pounded his thighs against you harder, a sharp clap ringing through all 8 ears. "Answer me!" The taller man's erection was now evident through the fabric of his pants.

"Y-yes, I un-understand", one of them mustered while the other one could only nod.

Katsuki's wet balls were slapping your clit now, and you whimpered "Katsu? Baby?"

He wrapped your hair around his fist, ignoring your mewl. He never broke eye contact with the men who'd made passes at you. "Tell her who the fuck she belongs to".

The younger one had pulled his cock through his open zipper, jerking off his smaller dick with his eyes locked on the point where your body met your husband's.

"Look at her!", Katsuki commanded. Both pairs of eyes met yours, their dry mouths hanging open. "SAY IT!"

They both jumped. "Y-you...belong to h-him", said the younger man who had been jacking off.

"The name's fucking Bakugou! Fucking say it!"

The same guy said, "You b-belong to B-Bakugou!"

By this time the taller man had pulled his dick out too, much larger than that of the other guy, but he still didn't hold a candle to Katsuki.

Katsuki's eyes darted to his. "Say my fucking name!" Your pussy was sucking him hard and his voice nearly cracked.

"B-Bakugou..."

"That's right...Bakugou. It's her last name too, you fucking beta. Don't you ever forget!"

The man's eyes drifted over to your pussy just in time to see the pink ring of flesh around your husband's cock begin an undulating cycle of flexing and relaxing. "Nnn-Katsu! G-gonna cum!"

Your thighs tightened and your hips stopped rocking back against Katsuki's, but the clamping down of your vaginal walls only got stronger as you unraveled around your husband's weighty cock.

He pulled back on the fistful of your hair, still plunging himself deep within your quivering cunt. Smarmy as ever, he looked at the taller man again. "Who does this fucking pussy belong to?"

"Y-you! I-I mean, Bakugou!"

"You're goddamn right it fucking does". Katsuki's groan escaped on the tail end of his words.

You could feel his cock tensing up inside you, such was his size. "Katsu?" Your body had turned to putty as you tried to hold onto what little shred of dignity you had left. "Cum for me, Katsu!", you whimpered.

"Why the fuck should I?"

"C-uz I want y-ou to mark m-e!" Your eyeliner smeared across the leather material of the couch cushion.

"That's a good a reason as any", he said before shifting his eyes away from the small circle jerk and back down to you. "Ah fuck, baby, yeah. I'll fucking mark you alright!" His eyes darted back up to that of his audience. "Gonna make sure my musk saturates you so they can fucking smell me on you!"

Drool seeped from your open mouth against the cream-colored leather. Your tits swayed and your ass cheeks rippled from the sheer force of Katsuki's relentless thrusts.

"Ah fuck, baby, gonna fill you up with my seed! So fucking full of it you're not going to be able to hold it all in!" Katsuki's hips snapped against your ass one last time before locking up, his ass flexing, relaxing, flexing, relaxing, flexing.

The younger man who'd been jacking off whined quietly as he blew his load onto the carpet beneath him.

"Nn fuck", the taller one groaned.

Finished with his orgasm, Katsuki pulled his cock out, bouncing under its own weight. He pulled your hips around to put on display the creampie he'd left behind inside you. The taller man, still tugging on his cock, watched as your pussy clenched, causing some of Katsuki's seed to ooze out of you and drip onto your ankle. That's all he could take and he came rather loudly, his cum nearly hitting you on the first release, such was the power behind it.

Katsuki frowned at both of them. "She's fucking mine. Don't you ever fucking forget it. Now...get the fuck OUT!"

They barely got their sticky, softening cocks back in their pants before retreating downstairs to no doubt go straight to their respective homes and have existential crises because they just orgasmed while watching another man fuck and cum inside an attractive woman. Porn was one thing, but Katsuki's show of dominance had hit different. And they had to wonder if they were wrong for it somehow.

Meanwhile, your husband helped you pull yourself together at least enough to make it to the car to take you home.

And with the privacy window partially cracked open, the driver was able to watch as Katsuki lapped up both your fresh slick for him, as well as his own seed as it continued to leak out.

#ask and you shall receive #hard dom bakugou #brat tamer bakugou #jealous bakugou #exhibitionist bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki #bakugo #katsuki x f!reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #dynamight #katsuki thirst

361 notes · View notes

littlegodzilla · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can I request some Murphy smut please? where Murphy has a crush on the reader but is too shy to say anything about it so Connor flirts with the reader to make Murphy jealous. This makes Murphy confess his feelings and leads to loving but possessive smut. Thanks and I love your writing!

Hi Anon!!

Thanks for your request! I'm not feel myself very comfortable writing about MacManus twins because I think I don't interpret them well, but I still tried to make it to your liking.

I hope you enjoy it.

"Stop friltring with my girl!"

Murphy MacManus x FemReader.

Anon Request.

Warnings: Flirtring. Language. Jealous. Smut. Rough Sex.

Words: 2300.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @srhxpci @xxtinasxxblog

Murphy can't stop shaking. He's hating his brother so much right now. And he knows he's doing that on propuse.

He's talking to you, smiling, laughting, touchibg you more than necessary only for bother him.

He's sitting at one end of the bar next to Rocco and the others, half-finished with his beer as he chews his lip nervously and fiddles with his cigarette between his fingers. Connor is his brother, but right now he feels like killing him.

A chuckle reaches your ears again and you see that Connor is leaning on the bar and saying something to you that is making you laugh and turn red.

You're Doc's family, a sister's daughter's daughter's daughter, or something like that, Murphy didn't pay attention to your parentage, just stood there in the middle of the pub with a nervous smile and a "hello." Whispered low. Apparently you had only recently arrived in Boston, had nowhere to go and Doc had been asked to look after you. The man had enough to worry about without taking care of you too. So he did the only thing that seemed reasonable. Put you to work in the pub. He would keep an eye on you and at the same time you would earn some money to start your own life on your own and not depend on him. It wasn't as if Doc didn't want you, but the neighborhood, the atmosphere of the pub... it wasn't what he wanted for you.

Plus to all that he had to add ....

"Come on Doc, let the lass have her fun!"

The MacManus brothers. He knew they were nice guys, polite young Irishmen, believer. His best customers. But they were also dangerous, willing to get into fights, alcohol and tobacco were their best company. He knew they would never lay a finger on you if you didn't want them to, but they were capable of selling a bathing suit in the middle of the desert. That lip, those innocent looks, their ability to make conversation even with stones. At least Connor. Doc noticed right away that Murphy stayed in the background with you. Studying you, as if he was embarrassed to talk to you directly, of course that embarrassment was fading as the alcohol took over his actions. But in general Connor was the one who always started the conversation.

"W-what's wrong with your b-brother?" He asked Connor one day and Connor laughed.

"Love, Doc, or so he says."

"A- Ass!!! Fuck!!!" He cursed making the twin laugh again. "Because of my little girl? Don't fuck with me, Connor, I'm old for these jokes."

"Sorry, Doc, but it's true." He shrugs and Doc snorts in annoyance.

"And what are you supposed to do?"

"Oh no, I'm not interested, but it's fun to watch him get mad and still do nothing." He jokes and Doc rolls his eyes, the humor of the MacManus brothers sometimes escaping him.

"Do you think she...?"

"Does she like Murphy? Aye! my brother is handsome as fuck, but she's stubborn and won't do anything but move piece him first."

"Oh God I hope he never does..." He whispers and Connor laughs again.

"Come on, Doc, she's all grown up now. She's entitled to have fun and we Irish are great teachers."

Of course that failed to comfort the man, but now he was able to see the details, to read between the lines. He could see Murphy on the side of the bar, fidgeting nervously, biting his nails to the point of almost tearing his skin off, his eyes completely fixed on his brother and you who were still talking as you poured several drinks for other customers.

It's St. Patrick's Day, people tonight are livelier than usual. St. Patrick's Day is an important day there in the pub, they are working non-stop, Doc is happy. The amount of people may also be due to you. You've put on a t-shirt that fits your curves well with the words "A lucky kiss" and you're wearing a short green skirt, every time you put a new drink the customers ask you for a kiss and they all lean over the mother to see if they can discover the color of your panties, if the skirt is lifted high enough. Murphy is one of those who can't help but stare. But you always turn away before the fabric lifts too much.

"Anything else around here, guys?" You ask with a smile, Connor has returned with his brother and the others to that side of the bar. "Murphy?" You look at him as you see his pint is finished and he nods.

"Aye, thanks, tonight's gonna be a long one." He comments, but you don't think much of it.

"Here you go." You smile again and reach over giving him a kiss on the cheek, Murphy freezes for a second. "Your lucky kiss." You mumble and get back to work.

"Yer gotta do somethin' bro." Connor's voice reaches his twin's ears and he rolls his eyes. "That girl has a lot of suitors and if ya ain't..."

"Y'think I haven't noticed? I don't need ya flirting with her every five minutes either." He protests like a child.

"I'm ain't flirting... I'm just being nice."

"Yeah... nice my ass." He growls drinking the pint in one gulp making his brother laugh.

The night is slowly getting livelier, the music is louder, the drunks are unable to stand up, there are some fights and shouting, but in general everyone is having a good time. You stop at the bar cleaning up some glasses before grabbing several cases to restock the coolers heading for the storeroom. Murphy drums his fingers nervously on the bar without taking his eyes off you. He gets up from his stool going after you ignoring Doc's gaze on the back of his neck.

"Help ya, lass?" murmurs Murphy behind you when he sees you reaching for a case of soda.

"Thanks, Murph." You smile leaving her with the others. "But you can come back if you want, I'm almost done here."

"Uhm... You've been good tonight..." He says moving a little closer to you.

"It's been a crazy night, but I know you guys." You joke and startle when you discover Murphy is closer than you thought.

"Many have come for their lucky kiss..." He says staring at you, his voice sounding intense.

"I know, you've had yours too, are you jealous?" you joke and laugh when you see him lower his gaze.

"Aye, I am." He shrugs and you look at him in surprise.

"Why? You've had your lucky kiss too." You stare at him biting your lip.

"No, because yer my girl, and those guys had no business touchin' ya."

"Your girl?" You like the sound of that and your smile grows wider, you feel Murphy's hands caress your waist and you shiver.

"Yeah..." He whispers brushing his lips against yours.

You laugh against his lips, clinging to his body to kiss him eagerly. His hands squeeze your waist making you crash against one of the warehouse shelves. You gasp against his mouth, but neither of you separate, Murphy's mouth has a mixture of beer and cigarettes that traps you, his tongue soon bursts into your mouth tangling with yours, becoming dominant, taking control over you. His hands move up from your waist to your breast, massaging it between his fingers, brushing your nipples over your bra, listening to you sigh. The soft sounds escaping from your lips turn the Irishman on more and more wanting to know every one of those sighs and moans, that only he can elicit from you. He pulls away from your mouth kissing and marking your neck as he lifts your shirt and bra leaving them tangled above your breasts. Murphy pulls away just enough so he can stare at you, his eyes roaming you hungrily, his pupils dilating with desire. Again his body pushes you against the shelf, his fingers play with your tits and nipples, pinching them, making them hard and while his mouth travels from one to the other moistening them, hearing you moan with pleasure.

Murphy tenses and grunts against your skin as he feels your hand caress his bulging crotch. Your gazes connect and you smile with mock innocence, still stroking him.

"Wanna play, lass?" he whispers against your lips again and you moan when his fingers squeeze your nipples. "Be a good girl and show me what ya can do." He says huskily, his dark tone coursing through you hitting directly on your clit feeling yourself getting soaked.

You don't make yourself begging, your fingers unbutton his pants slowly, without taking your eyes off him, Murphy breathes heavily through his mouth as he follows your every move, when the zipper rings and you catch his cock you see him bite his lip, but he doesn't make a sound, concentrating on what you are doing. His pants drop to his feet, his boxers you have to push them down a little further but they soon accompany the other garment, you wrap your hand around his cock rubbing it up and down feeling it harden completely before kneeling in front of him. The tip of your tongue brushes the tip of his cock and you finally hear him hiss. You smile because he can no longer hold back and you shove as much length into your mouth as you can feeling it hit your throat. Murphy stirs, hands resting on the shelf, head slumped between his shoulders, panting like an animal, doing his best to control himself. You find it amusing how quickly he seems to get desperate, but you don't hurry, slowly following a good rhythm you start sucking and licking all over his cock, cupping your cheeks to give him more pleasure, your tongue playing with his head, to get it all the way back into your mouth. From above you hear Murphy moan and snort, seeing him like this turns you on, your hands caress your body and your fingers rub your clit as you continue to suck his cock, however Murphy discovers you and pushes his cock roughly into your mouth. It chokes you for a second and you can't suppress a gag. You pull it out of your mouth with a frown, but he shakes his head.

"Don't touch yerself... I didn't say ya can touch yerself..." He says with difficulty.

"And you're just going to enjoy yourself? I hope you know how to make me cum, MacManus." You tease him, you know you're playing games and you know it won't be long before Murphy proves to you that he can do it.

You smile as you hear him roar in offense, he reaches down to grab your armpits and pull you up, not giving you time to settle in when he wraps one of your legs around his waist and violently rips your bottle green stockings. You open your mouth to protest, but his hand closes around your throat and nips the words in the bud. His grip on your neck is not tight, he exerts just enough force to hold you still and send a confused but pleasurable shiver through your body. Your leg is still on his waist and you moan as you feel his fingers pull the fabric of your panties aside and pierce your pussy unprepared, only moist with your own wetness. It hurts and it bothers, but he doesn't move them, he leaves them there for a moment, letting you adjust to them before he starts moving them in small circles. You close your eyes and sigh, relaxing, enjoying his intrusion. You don't watch as a mischievous smile forms on his mouth, his hand tightens tighter around your neck to keep you still and the speed of his fingers suddenly increases.

You open your mouth in a muffled moan, surprise and pleasure mingling, his fingers moving in and out of you so violently that the shelf vibrates beneath you.

"Mu...Murphy!" you cry out feeling a pleasurable tug run through your entire body, your eyes roll up and you claw at the hand still holding your neck.

Your knees tremble, your breath hitching, his fingers continue to move but slower this time. Murphy presses his body against yours to keep you from falling, his mouth kisses your cheek down your neck. His fingers leave your body, without looking away from you he licks his fingers and grunts, you sigh at the sight of him.

"Ya taste so good, lass, I could drink from ya, all day long." He says in his dark voice and you moan again.

Murphy pulls away a little and turns your body, resting your hands on the metal shelf, he leans your body forward and pulls your skirt up around your waist positioning himself right behind you. Your pussy clenches with need as you feel the tip of his cock rub against your slit, moistening with your fluids. His head pushes in slowly, you hiss, his size dilating you, stretching your pars still twitching from the spasms of your first orgasm. He moves to pull out again, to which you protest by moving your hips with him, Murphy grins behind your body and thrusts hard, all the way in, all at once. Your moan is loud and long, one of his hands covers your mouth and with another he holds onto the same shelf he has your body against, his body bends over yours, your back arches as he guides you, his hand still covering your mouth and he begins to move fast, entering deep into you at the new angle, making you moan against his hand.

"So tight..." He gasps in your ear without stopping moving. "Yer pussy clenching on my cock, wanting me to fuck it over and over again." She moans increasing the movement of her hips. "If all those pricks could see ya now...all mine..."

"Mu...Murphy..." You mumble against his hand feeling slightly choked, he releases you, his free hand reaches down and squeezes your nipple, he rests his forehead on your shoulder.

"You know Doc's going to kill you if he finds out..."

"Feel so good, lass, squeezing my cock so fuckin' good." He grunts againts your ear. "I'm gonna cum, love."

Murphy sits up holding your waist and begins to thrust faster, deeper, seeking his own release. His thrusts become more and more erratic and he manages to find that spot inside that makes you see stars and you clench tightly around his cock. Murphy grunts and you feel him cumming inside you. Your knees tremble, but again his hands hold you down, preventing you from losing your balance. His cock is still inside you, he pulls you up, your back against his chest, his hands caress your waist, your belly, up to your breasts massaging them again, making you laugh.

"Nah, Doc adores me." He smiles and leans in kissing you.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed it!

See you in the next story!!

#norman reedus #normanreedus #smut #murphy macmanus #murphyxreader #murphy x femreader #smut request #smut one shot #ask me #the boondock saints #connor macmanus

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bgyuus · 3 years

Text

chifuyu matsuno x reader

; where takemitchy takes his friend out for his birthday and his present? you.

cw: light spoilers, fingering, riding, mentions of choking, no condom, overstimulation, he calls you princess/slut, unedited writing.

note: i'm finally reading the tokyo revengers manga and ngl, it was a total rollercoaster while reading it. also, chifuyu’s in his present time (the pic below 😫 *simp screams*)

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHIFUYU!”

Takemitchy exclaimed, engulfing his old friend in a tight hug.

The ebony black haired male smiled, thanking him as he hugged back. It’s been a while since he last hang with him. Having their schedule busy with meetings and such, they couldn’t find the right time to catch up on things. Sure, they see each other everyday but spending the rest of the day with an old friend without worrying about work just hits different. At least that’s what Chifuyu thought.

“Shall we go have dinner then go see your present?” the blonde asked with a smile. Chifuyu nodded in response, shutting the car door behind him as Takemitchy speeds off into the horizon.

“Thanks for the dinner, man,” the birthday boy said, smiling at his friend in the drivers seat. “No problem! And now! It’s time for your present!” Takemitchy exclaimed. His voice filled with anticipation. He looks more excited than Chifuyu himself.

“Alrighty, we’re here!” he said, parking the car in front of a fancy looking complex. “Are we in Shibuya?” the black haired male asked, facing the building in awe. Takemitchy only nodded as he skipped into the building, making Chifuyu ran up to catch him.

The elevator stopped at level 4. As the two adults stepped out from the lift, Chifuyu’s jaw nearly dropped at what he saw. Right outside the elevator was a counter, handled by a middle-aged man, who was occupied with a women- who was dressed in a very thin silk dress. The male's eyes wondered around the boards beside the counter. They were filled with pictures of- lewd photos. Chifuyu cocked an eyebrow at this. What even-

"Looks like this place hasn't change one bit," Takemitchy said with hands on his hips, a proud and nostalgic look displayed in his eyes. “Oh, Takemitchy, right? Here for your reservation?” the man behind the counter asked. Blondie nodded furiously. Why is he so excited? Chifuyu raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Actually, I’m just here because I made the reservation, the one who’ll be doing the job is Chifuyu,” Takemitchy said proudly, pushing his friend towards the counter.

Chifuyu swallowed hard. Is this place what he thinks it is? "Alright, sign here and please proceed to the waiting room," the man said, handing a form to Takemitchy. Chifuyu tugged his shirt and pulled his friend aside. "Oi, what're- what am I suppose to do?" he asked, sounding nervous. "You're a 26 year old virgin, I'm helping you out!" Takemitchy explained while signing the form and handing it back to man behind the counter. Chifuyu mentally face palmed himself. This was definitely not how he imagined getting his virginity loss. Especially not with some random girl at a brothel.

"Wait! This is not how I-,"

"You may now go to the waiting hall, gentlemen," the man said, pointing to a room not far from the lift. Takemitchy thanked him and head towards the room without wasting any minute. Chifuyu walked after him, deadpanned at his friend's excited behaviour. "Look, I appreciate the effort but-" "Chifuyu, meet my friend, y/n!" the blonde said, holding hands with a girl in front of him.

The black haired man stared down at the girl. She was gorgeous. Is he lying? Of course not. His eyes trailed down to your body, scanning every inch of your curves. You laughed as he snapped back into reality. "Can't wait to do the dirty, are we?" You teased, pulling him towards you by his tie. Chifuyu's cheeks heated up as you brought your face close to his. “Aww, Takemitchy, you didn’t tell me he was a shy one,” you exclaimed, turning your head to face your blonde friend. “Eh? Chifuyu? Shy? Please, he’s one of Toman’s Top Admin, why would he be shy now?” Takemitchy laughed, making the said boy’s cheeks even hotter. You faced the man in front of you again. Now it was your turn to blush. The faint smell of his cologne filled your nostrils. His skin was fairly smooth. His eyes, oh how you got lost staring into his light blue orbs. Those orbs were just so mesmerizing that you didn’t notice that he was also actually staring into yours. Takemitchy gave off a small chuckle, making both of you snap back into reality.

“Sorry about that,” you said slowly, eyes glued to the floor, not wanting to let this Chifuyu guy to see your red tinted cheeks. Funny how this was actually your first time experiencing a quickened heartbeat for a customer. You slowly jerked your head up to look at the male. Chifuyu took a quick glance at you, making your eyes meet again once more. He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure of what to say. “Ay yow! I’m not here to just sit and see y’all being all gushy and wasting my money,” Takemitchy complained in a jokingly way. You shot your head up as if you had escaped from a trance. “Alright, Chifuyu! Let’s get going, shall we?” your playful smirk crawling back to your lips, grabbing both of his hands and lead him to another room, leaving Takemitchy alone with his earbuds plugged in.

Chifuyu scrubbed his body under the hot steaming water. One second she was like a teenage girl staring at her very new boyfriend then suddenly she became a playful flirt again, he sighed in thought. He was sure that he could here her heart beating rapidly as if it was about to burst out from her chest.

And yet, here he was, taking a shower before losing his 25 years of being a virgin to a girl he doesn’t even know, let alone have met before. Sounds kinda messed up to be honest, he chuckled at his joke. After slipping on his undergarments and a robe, he exited the bathroom while wiping his damped hair. “Look, I know you’re only doing your job but-” he got cut off, eyes widened at your figure who was slowly taking off your dress, revealing a see through lingerie. Being the kind (and nervous as fuck) gentleman, he immediately looked away, blood rushing to his cheeks and a slight pain growing in his boxers.

You walked up to him and slowly pushed him onto the bed with a light touch of your finger. Chifuyu’s breath hitched as you placed your legs at his sides. You dragged a finger along his jaw to his chin, tilting it upwards, making his eyes stare into yours. The both of you stayed there in silence, listening to each others quicken heartbeats. Your cheeks were tinted red, it was noticeable to Chifuyu. His eyes flickered to your lips then to your eyes. You gulped nervously. On the inside, you were practically cursing to yourself, telling you to get a grip and just treat him like your usual customers. You closed your eyes, wishing that this was just a dream or hoping that the man in front of you isn’t that Chifuyu guy but another customer.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to find that he was leaning into your touch. Fuck it, you thought as you slammed your lips into his. Surprisingly, he too, kissed you back. You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to your body. Chifuyu placed his hands on your waist and soon, his hands grabbed your thighs and wrapped them around his waist. The kiss then became sloppy as he bit the bottom of your lip gently, gaining access to explore your mouth.

You finally let go in desperate need of air. Chest huffing up and down whilst your sweaty forehead leaned against his. Your cheeks were definitely red now and same as his. "It's okay if you don't want to do it," you said nervously, looking down at- shit. Your eyes widened at the tent in his undergarment. All that kissing made him hard? Your cheeks flushed even more now. Chifuyu noticed this and looked down. Shit, shit, shit, shit, he cursed to himself. "Uhm," he laughed in a nervous and unsure tone. For the first time in your life, you're being this flustered and nervous. There was definitely something wrong with this guy, you concluded as you looked at Chifuyu who was fumbling with the ropes of his robe.

"Uh, I'll take care of this myself," he said, pushing you off his lap. You quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "I know you don't want your first time to be with a, um, a p-prostitute like me, but let me help you with that, plus you don't wanna let Takemitchy's money go to waste, don't you?" you explained. You avoid looking at him, cheeks still tinted red with embarrassment. With a light tug from your hand, Chifuyu went back to the bed.

"F-fuck, that's it," the male sighed, hands gripped onto your sides as you rode him. Screams can be heard from you as you slammed yourself onto his cock. It was tiring, really. Getting your pelvis to hit his everytime was a pain. "Fuyu, I can't," you gasped as his tip hit your cervix. "Now now, princess, you were the one who was all over me in the first place," he said, pulling you by the neck, slightly choking you whislt making your foreheads touch. You flinched at his sudden demeanor. Where did the shy and nervous Chifuyu go?

You can't do it anymore. You toppled on top of him, gasping for air. Chifuyu found this amusing. "Is my wittle princess tired?" he asked in a playful tone while stroking your hair lovingly. You nodded in response, too exhausted from riding and cumming for the third time. You feel like you were about to pass out when he suddenly flipped you over. "Ass up, face down for me, princess," he whispered. You wouldn't be lying if you say his tone of voice turned you on.

You obeyed his words. Chifuyu groped at your ass, feeling the soft flesh against his warm skin. You squirmed under his touch, wanting him to desperately put his dick back inside of you. "Chifuyu, please, ah!" You yelped at the sudden contact. He inserted a finger into your wet entrance, pumping them slowly. Enjoying the pleasure his finger's giving, you didn't realize that your hips started to rock against his hand, following the pace of his digit.

"Stay still, you slut," he snapped as he slapped your ass making you moaned in both pain and pleasure. Chifuyu's free hand grabbed your hip to lock you in place. He stopped penetrating your cunt with his finger and pumped his cock, which was already leaking with precum. You winced at the pain as he inserted his cock inside you. The blacked haired male didn't move, he let you readjust to his size and once he got the signal, he slammed his his against your ass, making you screamed.

Tears slowly streaming down your eyes as your knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets too hard. Takemitchy said this will be his first time but the way he thrusts-

"Why are are you crying? Don't you like this?" He sounded sadistic and that nearly made you cum on the spot. "Chifuyu, I'm about to cu-," he grabbed a fistful of your hair, making your back hit his chest. "Hold it, hold it in for me, princess," he whispered into your ear. His voice, oh my god, his voice literally nearly made you burst. But you did hold it in for him. At this point, you’d do anything for him.

His thrusts never slowed down. His hand gripping at your waist guided your body, matching his thrusting rhythm. "Chifuyu, please, I can't hold it anymore," you panted. He grabbed your face and kissed you roughly. Tongue swirling, fighting for dominance. His lips trailed down to your jaw then to your neck, sucking and biting, leaving dark purple blue marks. His thrusts began to slow down, signaling that he was close too. “Shit, come for me, princess,” he whispered into you ear and this time you finally came whilst feeling his cum dripping down your thighs.

Chifuyu sat up from the bed. He smiled softly at the girl sleeping peacefully beside him. He checked his phone and saw a message from Takemitchy.

Seems like you’re enjoying yourself, Chifuyu! I’ll be going home now. Hope you like the present!

- Takemitchy

The ebony black haired male smiled at his friend’s message. He turned to face the girl again. She stirred in her sleep, her feet lightly kicking his waist. He chuckled at her sleepy behavior. Their first encounter was weird enough for him. It was as if they were teens again. Staring and getting lost in each others eyes. He smiled at remembering the incident where she stared at him as if he was the first man she had ever seen in her entire life.

“Hey, you’re up early,” the girl said, rubbing her eyes. She crawled towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning against his bare back. “Are you really this clingy after doing your job?” Chifuyu laughed at her pouting face. Heat rises to her cheeks once more as she let go of him. “No, it’s just that, you’re warm that’s all,” she crossed her arms in denial. She looked at the man beside her. He was laughing with his toothy grin shining against the rising sun. The girl’s face blushed at how gorgeous he looks. Chifuyu noticed her tinted cheeks. He kissed her a good morning kiss, taking her by surprise.

“This sounds weird and sudden but wanna be more than just my present?”

note: okay! so that was longer than i expected but this does show how much of a simp i am for this guy lol. anyways, hope you enjoyed the story! <3

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #chifuyu tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers chifuyu #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu imagines #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu fluff #chifuyu smut #tw: smut #tw: overstimulation

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turnmeintoastar · 3 years

Text

“ rose-pink bliss ”

summary: a boy who seeks escape, finds it in the most unexpected place.

The life of a noble was not easy. As appealing as life in a big castle; servants, ready to deliver your most perverse longing; delicacies from overseas; gold; jewels; and swanky clothes — [m/n] fancied the latter, mostly — sounds, endless balls, foreign and unwanted suitors, parental protectiveness — to be read as “overprotectiveness” —, and relentless efforts on hosting a successful bride-show, were not so much.

In the middle of another hellish ball, [m/n] was not doing so good. Yes, of course, the food cooked by the skilled chefs of [l/n] Park was delicious, and the orchestra has been playing his favourite tune just fine. Something, however, was terribly bugging [m/n] for the whole night. No, not the persistent, borderline annoying, partner he was stuck with — he was used to such matters, smile and sway along, he has been telling himself. Something, was not right.

“M’Lady, please, allow me,” a voice cut through his trance. [m/n] snapped his head to his right, startled, uncle. No, Zhongli was not related to him, by blood, at least, but he has been with [m/n] through the most of his childhood and teenage years. Hiding her small smile and a faint blush behind her flower ornamented fan. Performing a small act of reverence, they parted their ways. The woman, now, dancing with Zhongli. [m/n] silently made eye contact, nodding gratitude, Zhongli nodding back.

[m/n] did not waste the opportunity on escaping — these shenanigans, surely, shall be the end of him. Straightening his posture, he was about to stroll off, to find the reason of his displeasure. Just as he was about to leave the ballroom, an arm sneaked around his shoulders.

“Lil’ bro,” its owner cheered, “how’s the night going?”, [m/n] swore he was not a violent person, like his acquaintance, for instance ,Scaramouche, now, he was a violent person; [m/n], never.

“Go choke, Old Man,” he grumbled. Childe was not his preferred company. Not now, not ever.

“Don’t be like that! Who was the man who sent Zhonli, hm? Me! I did! And for what? I should a t least get a kiss,” the ginger whined, throwing his arms up in exaggeration. [m/n] merely rolled his eyes.

“Wonderful proposal. I ,unfortunately, ought to decline. Shall we count that as payment, for all the times you almost beheaded me, Dear?”, [m/n] tapped his finger on Childe’s forehead. The man was tall, but [m/n] was not of small ones, either. Childe was left with a heavy blush and mumbling something along “little, spoiled brat and “oh, you just wait”.

[m/n] walked out of the residence; the sun had already set, and the only thing illuminating the flower labyrinth was the faint glow of his vision, dangling from one of his belt-loops. He took a slow pace as he stepped inside the maze. Living in the castle for over [age] years, he had memorised every little thing about the place. The garden was the place he has been the most fond of.

Thoughtlessly walking amidst the calming walls of roses, he was startled by the faint “hm” and “uh”s from the other side of the wall. After some time, he could detect faint sounds of a musical instrument.

“Would you like some help, um.. Sir..?” he asked, finding a quick path to the other side was easy for [m/n], trying to sound confident in the assumption he made regarding their gender.

“Ah!” the stranger yelped.

“Ay, did you hear that?” a deep voice, [m/n] could assume it was one of the guardians.

“Yeah, let’s go look,” another voice, higher, ordered. [m/n] could not care less about their antics, he was more than capable of protecting himself, and he wanted some peace. “No, I’m just fine! Just a little slippery here,” [m/n] answered from inside the maze.

“Young Master, do you need any help? We can bring you fresh clothes if yours got dirtied,” the first voice, again, voiced.

“Just go! I’m good! Not dirty at all,” he ordered them away. With a few words, they departed.

“Six guards..That could get me in trouble,” the boy on the ground laughed.

“You’re either a creep that's been watching over me and memorised the place or a very good guesser.”

“Neither, I’m actually a musician,” the boy boasted, twirling a lyre in his hands.

“I don’t think musicians do that. And they certainly do not invade property, boy,” [m/n] glared, a little suspicious of the young man before him.

“Hey! I’m no ‘boy’! Venti the Bard, for you!” he turned away with a huff and crossed arms.

“Never heard of such a bard, and I know a lot, are you not from here?”

“I’m from Mondstadt,”

“What brings you here, to Liyue?” [m/n] shot.

“Heard there was a big celebration. I am where the fun is,” Venti sat criss cross on the grass.

“And what did you want there?” obviously, Venti has just answered, but [m/n] was a curious fellow.

“I heard the host's son — they have three of them, I believe — was a great storyteller! The oldest one,” [m/n] rolled his eyes. Always his brother, never him.

“Then you should go, he’s now in the mood,” he commanded, turning away with a harsh glare.

“Hey! Can you at least tell me your name? Lead me out of here, at most!” Were strangers always annoying? [m/n] could not tell.

“[m/n] [l/n]. Second born son of the host,” the last part was not necessary, yes, but he was going to prove his coolness to this Venti person.

“Oooh!” Venti was standing now, eyes gleaming in interest.

“Does he also have any talents?” Venti asked. For some peculiar reason, [m/n] found himself smiling and his chest being tingly. Venti was pretty. Definitely [m/n]’s type.

“He’s the first to receive a vision in his bloodline, he’s a skilled artist, a wonderful diplomat, and..” he was unsure on how to say that and not sound funny.

“‘And’ what?” Venti prompted. [m/n] walked closer to Venti. Towering over the bard, he leaned closer to his right ear.

“He’s great in bed,” [m/n] held a prideful and arrogant smirk on his lips, Venti saw when he pulled away. Venti wanted to say many things; be it a cocky reply of a small dick joke, or a flirtatious ‘prove it then, sir’, or to just look into his [color] eyes and be hypnotized by his mesmerizing voice. Venti wanted it all, he himself concluded.

“Now, boy, don’t get lost,” [m/n] said, turning away and starting to walk away. Venti just stared at him; still in shock from either his looks or his from the thing he said earlier, possibly, from both.

“And? Do you need a special invite? We’re going inside, you’re my companion for tonight,” [m/n] playfully rolled his eyes and smirked from behind his shoulder, making eye contact with, now, smiling Venti.

Venti has never been this enamoured by someone in his whole life. Be it how gentle [m/n]’s touches were, or how many funny or peculiar stories [m/n] has come to share. Venti had fallen in love with [m/n], hard. And his object of affection could not deny his liking, too. The smiles that Venti gave him, and the short melodies he played, and the way he talked and looked, — everything about Venti.

When they neared the ballroom, [m/n] shared a smile with Venti. Not one of his cocky or prideful ones, a smile born of pure love and affection. He then extended his hand, doing a small bow. Venti took his hand, and they entered. Not the looks Venti got, about his unfit clothing, or the girls trying to steal [m/n] for a dance could stop them.

Tonight was going to be fun.

#x male reader #male reader #genshin impact #venti #venti x reader #venti x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x reader #venti x you #genshin impact fanfiction #fluff #royal

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

The Raven Haired Rebel

Chapter 1

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which you plead Loki’s case. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Besides this being a miniseries, all the chapters are pretty short too! Hope you enjoy all the same :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Swiping into Avengers Tower made you feel important, more so than swiping into a SHIELD base. You weren’t exactly sure why, though. Perhaps it was because SHIELD was a secret, and no one knew. Here, the passerby on the street looked on in awe. Or maybe it was because the Tower was so elite. Because so select few got to enter. But really, it probably wasn’t that you got to enter so much as why you got to enter.

True, since your first day on the job, word got around that you were the best in your field. Fast as lightning, you’d risen through the ranks to be Fury’s top tracker, a position all but secured when he brought you on for this case. A case, you knew, that intrigued you far more than it should have.

Just like everyone else had on that day a little over three months ago, you watched the TV with rapt attention as gods and superheroes made themselves known to the world. And, you supposed, supervillains too. Not that you’d told anyone, but something didn’t quite sit right with you in the weeks after when news anchors and colleagues alike were referring to the raven haired god as such.

For the next three days, you’d pored over books of Norse Mythology and a number of studies. Most of the latter coming from one Dr. Jane Foster, who you soon came to link with Thor. But even there you found a disconnect between the god of legends and the bloodied man on your screen. He never really did have malicious intent before. He was a trickster, yes, but he’d not even come close to doing something this drastic before! Ok, yes, there was his involvement in Ragnarök in the myths, but even for that you’d found multiple sources that could debunk it. Besides, it certainly didn’t seem like Asgard had even faced the end times yet.

Alas, you figured Thor knew his brother, and you had your own case to work on, so you let be the mystery that was Loki.

And then you were called into Fury’s office a week ago and asked to begin tracking the god. A bit too eagerly, you’d agreed to take the case. You’d dealt with villains before, truly evil people, and your search only further proved what deep down you already knew; Loki was not one. Everywhere you followed his trail, a mysterious savior was stopping bank robberies and saving people from burning buildings and runaway trains. Not to mention there were multiple descriptions of said savior using green magic. It seemed a wonder that the tracker in the case before you hadn’t noticed. Then again, people tend to only see what they want to.

Regardless, you made your way to the elevators, heading toward the conference room on one of the upper floors. You tapped your foot as it ascended, impatient to share your findings. As the lift stopped and you got out, you tugged on your leather jacket. It was ever so slightly too big, but it was on sale. Plus, you felt like it looked pretty cool, considering your job and all. Subconsciously, you puffed up your chest a bit too. Regardless of actual size, you felt like a petite little thing, stepping into a room of now renowned heroes. Strange, you thought, how so much could change in just three months.

“You know, I got to get me one of those,” said the man suddenly keeping pace next to you. You quickly identified him as Tony Stark.

“I... Pardon?” you replied, slightly startled.

“Your jacket,” he said, pointing at it. “I feel like the leather will match the whole rugged good-guy, vibe. Besides, I think Capsicle’s got one.”

You chuckled at that. “Maybe we should just make it the team uniform then.”

“Team, huh? So you must be that new tracker kid we’re working with.”

“I’d hardly call myself a kid,” you scoffed.

“When you get to be as rich as I am, you get to call everyone a kid,” Tony shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure that’s how it works, but whatever you say, I guess,” you chuckled again.

“See, now if everyone would just adopt that mindset, we’d get stuff done a lot faster around here.” He quickly signed something that was brought up to him on a clipboard, never stopping. You wondered how long he could keep up like this before collapsing. “Besides, take it as a compliment. That last tracker was some fuddy-duddy old guy.”

“Fuddy-duddy?” you guffawed. “Maybe you’re the old one, after all.”

Tony feigned like he’d been struck in the heart. But before you could keep up the banter, you reached the conference room, and Steve was waving you inside.

“Stark,” he said with a nod. “Are you ready to begin or are you going to keep distracting our new teammate?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said with a little salute. “Reporting for duty.”

You mouthed a sorry as you followed Stark into the room. Even if the rest of them turned out to be hard-asses, at least Tony was fun. And having one ally was better than none, you figured. As you took your seat across from your new friend, you flipped through the file that had been left for you. It wasn’t really anything new, so you glanced at your teammates again. Nat and Clint both nodded at you, recognizing you from a couple other missions you’d interacted during. There wasn’t really any time to talk, however, before Captain Rogers was walking to the head of the long table.

“Alright, team. Before we get started, I think it’s worth mentioning we have a new member on the team,” Steve said, before welcoming you by name. “I think we’re all caught up on the situation here, so let’s dive right in. A new trend has shown up in the Tower’s data mining.”

“Data analysis,” Tony butt in. “It sounds more ethical that way.”

“Whatever you want to call it, the program showed that wherever Loki goes, there’s a spike in activity of an organization calling themselves AIM. At first glance they seem innocent, but after some digging, we’ve found they’re anything but. We’ve determined Loki is working with them, perhaps even masterminding some of their more underground projects. Agent? Can we assume you found the same things?”

“Uh, yeah, no. Actually, my data shows the opposite,” you cleared your throat. Standing, you slid the information from your tablet onto the room’s TV screen. “See, it seems that he’s actually doing good deeds. There are multiple accounts of a man fitting Loki’s description performing heroic works.”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Tony said, leaning forward. “What about AIM then? You think it’s a coincidence.”

You bit your lip. “I’ll admit, I haven’t found anything about them yet. But... maybe, just maybe, Loki’s showing up where they are because he’s trying to stop them.”

“I am so sorry to interrupt, but that does not sound like the Loki I know at all,” Thor laughed. “A wonderful joke, though.”

Now you were getting mad. You shouldn’t be, but you saw something worth defending in Loki. A lot, actually. There was something about that look in his eye that you couldn’t quite read, but it was telling you something was wrong all the same.

“That’s not fair! Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. Look at this,” you said, swiping to show a side by side of Loki during and after the fight. “You can see it by the look on his face; something was seriously wrong during the battle. Plus, I’ve seen videos of him when he first came; he was not alright. Afflicted with severe anxiety and what looks like burn marks, I’d say. He needed help.”

“With all due respect,” Clint chimed in, “aren’t your a tracker, not a psychologist?”

“Yes, but as such I’ve been trained to look at all the details. Not just what’s convenient.”

“Listen,” Steve sighed before things got any more heated. “It’s a great theory and all, but you read Thor’s account of everything that happened before this. So, until we get some solid evidence proving otherwise, we’re going to have to stick with what we already know. We’ll put a pin in the AIM thing until you can take a look, though. Ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed, defeatedly taking your seat again.

You looked around the table. Natasha and Bruce, the only two who hadn’t said anything, both looked kind of pensive. Alright, maybe bewildered was the better word for Bruce. He was smart, no doubt about it, but you got the impression he wasn’t very good in social settings. Then there was Clint and Thor, both who seemed a little skeptical of you. At least Thor seemed to be considering his brother’s innocence at least a little. Steve was a bit more unreadable as he continued to prattle on about what you already “knew” for the case. And then there was Tony, who seemed more impressed than anything else. He, at least, had seemed to genuinely consider what you said. Perhaps he still was.

“The best way to solve this,” Steve closed his spiel, “is to bring him in. Agent, have you located him yet?”

You sighed. Deeply. It shouldn’t be this much of a struggle to present your findings. You’d had no trouble speaking on his behalf. Yet a part of you—an alarmingly large part, you realized—didn’t want to turn him in. But who were you to ignore direct orders?

“Yup,” you conceded, pulling up a map with a blinking red dot, marking Loki’s location.

“Well then, team,” Steve said to the group. “Let’s roll out.”

142 notes · View notes

moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

Little White Lies:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Unsupportive/Jealous Family Members, Fighting, Swearing, Fluff, etc.

Word Count: 4,266

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon, you can find it here. (this was such a fun request, I hope I did it justice lol)

Summary: From dealing with unsupportive and envious family members, to being caught in a lie, Y/N is forced to face her family and confront her feelings about her boss, all thanks to a wedding invitation.

“What do you mean you’re working as a secretary? I put in a perfectly good recommendation for you last month at the hospital!” Y/N’s father yelled as she made her way into the living room of her parents house. The old walls poorly concealing their loud arguing.

“Did you stop and think about how maybe I don’t want to follow in you and Margaret’s footsteps? I thought you’d at least be happy I’ve found something I like! But no, it’s not good enough for you aye? Nothing I do ever is...” Y/N yelled back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, his eyes boring into hers.

“Let’s face it, you and mum both like Margaret better because she has a “respectable job” as a doctor just like you. You pushed her off to the best schools, and only approve of her boyfriend because he’s a classy businessman.” She said lighting a cigarette.

“See? You’re already picking up bad habits Y/N. We just want the best for you.” Her mother said, plucking the cigarette out of her fingers and throwing it into the fireplace as her father looked to the ground with his arms folded.

“A secretary job is respectable. I keep the company from crashing down half the time.” She said.

“And what company is that? One where they shove you in a dark room to type papers all day?” Her mother scoffed back.

“Shelby Company Limited. It’s quite nice actually.” She said with a smirk.

“Isn’t that where the Peaky Blinders run the streets? I bet you’re dating one of them for christ’s sake!” Her father yelled, turning away from his daughter in disgust.

“What if I am?” She asked, balling her hands into fists at her sides.

“Who is it? I’ll get you transferred out in no time. No daughter of mine is working as a damn secretary in fucking Small Heath.” He said.

“Thomas Shelby.” She said, his name escaping her lips before she could think about what she’d done.

Her father tensed up at his name. His face paling in complexion as he sat down, his wife eyeing him with concern.

“The Thomas Shelby?” He asked, more quietly than before as if he was being watched.

“Mhmm. What is there a problem?” She asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“No...are you sure it’s him? He practically owns half of Birmingham. Although his reputation is not something I’m fond of...I guess if you legally work for him that’s...respectable.” He said, his tone softer and more accepting than earlier.

“Right, so now that I’m dating an infamous businessman, I’m more respectable as a secretary? Why the sudden change? I’m doing quite well on my own with this job.” She said as she observed his rigid body language. He hesitated to speak, remembering when the two older Shelby’s came in half-alive after being shot up by a rival gang.

“Well, given his reputation and my practice, I may have had a few run-ins with him at the hospital. It’s common knowledge not to get in their way but I did. I made him and his bastard of an older brother stay a week to heal after saving their asses.” He said, an annoyed look on his face.

“He threatened your father Y/N. We couldn’t even tell the coppers. But...please don’t get too proud over your position there darling. Your words could come back to you and he could find someone else by sundown.” Her mother said with a nice tone, trying but failing to take the sting out of her words.

She’d always been jealous it seemed. Seeing her daughters getting to achieve things that she couldn’t. Being led to a life of homemaking and hosting parties for her wealthy doctor of a husband. They never amassed the wealth like the Shelby family had, but they were able to afford a decent sized house in London, if that was any indication of her family’s status.

After a long, tense silence, she decided to leave. Saying a quick and frustrated goodbye to her parents before heading back to Small Heath. Her heart racing at the realization that she just openly told her parents she was dating her boss. It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if it were true, but alas it was nothing but a white lie. She had always been quiet on the subject despite them getting along well. Polly could see a connection, which she’d mentioned to her over tea various times, but she always shrugged it off. And now she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to tell him the truth.

As a few weeks passed, she continued with her clerical duties. Filing papers and reporting things to Thomas as usual. Until she got a call from home once again, requesting her presence immediately.

“Why do you all need me here anyway? I could be working right now.” Y/N said, impatiently tapping her foot on the lavish rug lining the hardwood floors of the living room.

“We wanted to give you this.” Her father said, flicking an envelope at her that she barely had time to catch.

The envelope was a light green color - her older sister Margaret’s favorite - with an intricately written invitation inside.

“Thomas Shelby and Y/N Y/L/N,

We cordially invite you to attend the union of Matthew Reynolds and Margaret Y/L/N. Formal attire will be expected at both the ceremony and reception.”

Her eyes grew wide at the invitation as she realized her parents must’ve told her sister about Thomas. Knowing nothing she did was ever kept private, unfortunately. But in that moment she knew she messed up, thinking about how she’d have to tell them it was all a lie. That she wasn’t dating the infamous gang leader. A feeling of panic and embarrassment washed over her as she realized the gravity of the situation.

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her mother said.

“Y-yeah. Wasn’t expecting Margaret to invite me, let alone um...Thomas to her wedding. Are you all attending?” She asked nervously.

“Well of course! We can’t miss our best daughters wedding day.” Her mother said, not knowing how her words cut into Y/N.

“You’re loved as well. Your mother didn’t mean that. No one would dare disrespect a woman associated with Thomas Shelby. Right dear?” He said, hastily reassuring his daughter and looking at his wife with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh darling I didn’t mean it like that. We love both of you. I’m sorry...I’ll do better I promise.” She said giving her daughter a light hug.

“Please do. I’ll see you at the wedding.” Y/N said harshly, leaving the house in a hurry as she clutched the green envelope in her hand.

A week had passed since she’d set the invitation on her desk at work. The paper easily seen from anyone near her desk as not many envelopes were that color. It cost too much to make them given the financial troubles of the past few years, but of course her sister could afford it.

It was midnight though when Thomas walked by her desk out of habit, the lamp still on while Y/N had left for the night. The faint yellow glow illuminating the envelope as he raised an eyebrow at it. He quickly picked it up, reading the intricate handwriting on the letter inside as he noticed his name next to hers.

The next morning, Y/N walked to her desk to see that the invitation was missing. Her stomach doing flips as she wondered where it had gone.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office?” Thomas said as he leaned against the doorframe, his tailored suit catching her off-guard for a moment as she glanced at the man her heart ached after. Polly giving her a questionable glance and a small, knowing smirk as she walked reluctantly into his office.

He knew. He knew about the letter and she was dumb enough to leave it there last night. Dumb enough to lie to her parents. Dumb enough to harbor any feelings for the man who certainly wouldn’t admit any himself.

“Y/N...” He said, his low voice ripping her from her racing thoughts as she stood by the door.

“Y-yeah sorry. Busy morning. What do you need Tommy?” She asked, nervously fiddling with her hands.

“I need to discuss something with you. Please sit.” He said, walking over to his plethora of whiskey glasses and filling two of them with the brown liquid he loved so much. If anything, he’d probably marry a bottle of whiskey if he could.

“What is it you want to discuss?” Y/N asked, sipping from her glass as it burned its way down her throat.

“I found this on your desk. I know it wasn’t my business to go taking things, but I couldn’t help but notice my name was mentioned with yours...so now...it is my business.” He said, observing how she grew uncomfortable under his gaze, drinking more as she shifted in her seat.

“It’s a long story.” She said blankly while setting the glass down, wanting to flee out the door never to come back.

“And for once I have the time.” He said leaning backing in his chair and lighting one of his many cigarettes.

Y/N sighed and relaxed back into her seat, her heart skipping a beat as she thought of the best way to explain it to him.

“Alright...so my family is a bit backwards as you know. And happen to just adore my older sister Margaret. They funded her schooling, attended her graduations and awards ceremonies, and they uh...like that she’s dating - I mean - engaged to a businessman now. He’s what they consider successful.”

“Successful aye? What...they don’t think some razor-gang from Birmingham is successful?” He asked.

“No.” She answered, looking out the window as she continued.

“Anyway, when I visited them, they started saying things about the company and how my job wasn’t respectable. I tried to shut them down but um, my father accused me of dating one of ya, like it was a disgrace to the family. So I panicked and said that I wasn’t dating just any of them, I was dating you.” She said, looking down at the nearly empty glass in her trembling hands.

“What’d he say to that aye?” He asked, a small smirk playing on his usually stoic face.

“Oh his whole demeanor changed. Looked like he’d seen a ghost. He um...said he knew of you. Said he treated you and Arthur for a week after a bad night on the job.” She said, nervous he’d go after her father.

“Aye I remember him. A bit mouthy that one.” He said.

“You threatened him though. Why?” She asked, her nervousness turning to a bit of anger at the thought of him harming her parents, even if they weren’t the best.

“They wanted to report it to the coppers. And as you know now, we don’t deal too kindly with snitches. So I had to threaten him. To keep the peace.” He said, blowing a cloud of smoke towards her.

“I wouldn’t say peace. Fear would be a better word.” She said, sipping the last of her whiskey.

“It’s worked out for me so far.” He said.

“Yes it has Tommy...but I have one question.” She said.

“Mhmm?”

“Are you wanting to go to this bullshit wedding or not?” She asked bluntly, hoping her interrogation would be over soon.

“That depends. Are you going? You don’t seem too fond of your family.” He said.

“I’m only going out of love.” She said.

“Well in that case, I am too.” He said, jotting down the address to the ceremony on his calendar with a star on the day, his heart racing despite his cold exterior. He’d harbored feelings for her too, and Polly could see it, often questioning him when Y/N would leave for the night, but he always blew her off due to peaky business.

“Wait...you actually want to go to such a horrid thing...with me?” She asked.

“And pass up a date with my favorite secretary? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said, a small smirk hinting at his lips which seemed almost out-of-place.

“Date? Are you sure this isn’t some small business deal? You aren’t just agreeing for money or to pity me?” She asked.

“No Y/N...I’m agreeing because I like you. Always have...just never had the time to tell you till now. Now go back to your work before Polly gets even more suspicious.” He said, admitting his feelings like it was nothing as she stood there dumbfounded.

“R-right.” She said sheepishly as she made her way back to her desk, a small smile on her face as Polly watched her. Knowing something had finally gone down between them.

A week into their newfound relationship, the day had finally come and Thomas escorted her inside the wedding chapel, her black dress complimenting his suit nicely. Her mother scoffing as she sat near her, wondering why the hell she’d wear a black dress to a wedding.

“You know black is for funerals...didn’t I teach you anything?” She asked quietly to where only Y/N could hear.

“I’m just marking the death of any peace that was left between this family. I know you both will start hounding me with questions in no time now that Margaret’s spoken for.” She said quietly, staring into her mother’s cold eyes. There’s always been a tension between them, but it seemed even a joyous occasion such as this couldn’t cut it.

“You alright love?” He asked, holding her hand in his as she stared blankly at the alter, waiting for the ceremony to start.

“It’s just my mother. She can’t put aside our differences for one fucking day.” She said quietly. Her mother leaning over to insert herself into the conversation.

“It’s nice meeting you Mr. Shelby. You’re more than welcome to sit with us at the reception.” Her mother said as she watched her daughter talk to the infamous blinder.

“Thank you Mrs. Y/L/N, we’d love to. Right Y/N?” He asked, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Love is one word for it I suppose.” She said, her jaw tensing as she saw her father approaching their seats.

“Glad to see you again Mr. Shelby, given this time it’s under better circumstances.” He said, shaking his hand firmly.

“Indeed it is Mr. Y/L/N.” He said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and sticking it between his lips.

Her father soon resigned himself from the tense situation by sitting near his wife, who was eyeing the dashing blinder who smoked where he pleased.

“Can you believe she’s dating him? They look like they’ve only just started.” She whispered to her husband.

“If I have to accept him for professional reasons, you can accept him for our daughter. Enough with the snide remarks. Our lives might as well be at stake if he were to hear us...his threat still stands.” He said, knowing that his youngest daughter and her mother always had a tense relationship since her birth. It wasn’t particularly successful, only saving them in the knick of time from complications. Little did he know he was more so the heart of the family, albeit a dysfunctional one.

“They’re talking about me I know it.” Y/N said, fidgeting with her hands as they waited for the ceremony to begin. Margaret taking more than her sweet time getting ready.

“Let them talk then. It can only hurt you if you let it.” He said.

“Now, she better be dressed to the nines because this is the longest I’ve ever waited for a wedding ceremony.” He added, seeing a smirk forming on her face.

“Oh just you wait.” She said jokingly. The music catching everyone’s attention as they all looked on, and surely enough she was dressed to the nines, the whole tailoring industry probably coming together to complete the lavish gown.

“What is this the royal fucking wedding?” She asked, hearing him chuckle quietly under his breath.

As Margaret neared the altar with her father handing her off with a kiss on the cheek, she took a look at her fiancé and then turned toward Y/N, giving her a small smirk that made her stomach churn.

“What was that for?” Thomas whispered quietly, noticing the interaction.

“She’s rubbing salt in an old wound. She’s as bad as my mother.” She said, flicking her off silently. Thomas quickly placed his hand over hers to stop her from escalating the already tense situation. Her mother giving her a scolding look that she ignored, her blood boiling with the fact she was flaunting her status in front of her.

It seemed like forever before the vows ended, the tired crowd clapping and dispersing after the couple ran happily out the door of the church and to the nearby reception. With Y/N and Thomas lagging behind, not wanting to enter the horrendous venue.

“We can leave the reception early if you’d like. Maybe go somewhere more entertaining.” He suggested as they watched the couple parade around the room. Her sister quickly bringing her husband over to where they were standing.

“Y/N, love I’m happy you made it! We were scared you weren’t going to show.” She said giving her younger sister a careful hug as not to disturb her dress.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my sister...I can’t exactly avoid you forever.” She said a small smile on her lips.

“You never told me you snagged such a......man. Where did you two meet?” She asked, shaking Thomas’ hand as her husband did the same. Margaret wary of the cold stare he gave her and Matthew.

“At work.” Y/N said shortly, not appreciating her attitude.

“Look at that, my baby sister finally has a job. What is it? A teacher? a factory worker? a nurse perhaps?” Margaret asked.

“A secretary.” Y/N said, staring the bride down the best she could hoping her gaze could silence her before she made a show of it all.

“A secretary? Hmm. Well that’s good I guess. Just be careful though, those secretaries have to sleep their way to the top you know.” She said. Y/N’s face burning as she turned away from Thomas, wanting to run out and never look back.

Thomas cleared his throat and put his hand on the small of her back as she tensed her jaw, reluctantly turning back to her snake of a sister.

“How would you know? Is that how you got to your position?” She snapped back, the anger rising in her chest. She wished she could have captured her sisters expression in a photograph, her words finally cutting into her like she wanted.

“I assure you she isn’t doing anything of the sort. In fact, she’s an integral part of the company already. But if I were you I wouldn’t say too much else.” Thomas said, a dark tone to his voice as he kept a level head between the sibling rivalry that was happening by the second.

“Oh and who are you to threaten me? What’s this company you speak of? My parents never mentioned it.” She said, her husband whispering in her ear that they had to go. The poor man hated the situation just as much as Y/N.

“That was probably to protect you Margaret. You see...you’ve always been a bit reckless with new information. So I doubt you knew what father got himself into.” Y/N said.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, grabbing a glass of expensive champagne as the server walked by.

“He got in my way...and no one gets in Thomas Shelby’s way. It cost me some of my men. So, like I said, if I were you...I wouldn’t say much else.” He threatened again, her fiancé swallowing hard as he led his flustered wife away to mingle with the other guests.

“Why can’t you both get along?” Her father asked, walking over to the pair.

“I’ve done my part with both her and mum. But...I’m not staying where I’m not valued. I love you all but, we have to go. Send Margaret and Matthew our....warmest regards, yeah?” She asked taking Thomas’ hand and leading him out the door. Her father stood there with a tense look on his face, knowing his family had gotten themselves on bad terms with the Shelby’s once again.

With frantic footsteps she walked to the car, tears flooding down her face as she got in herself, not bothering to wait for him to open the door.

“You didn’t have to stick up for me, but thank you.” She said wiping her tears away as he started the car.

“Yeah.” He said, lighting a cigarette before taking off. He wasn’t much for accepting thanks, at least since the war.

“Are they like that all time?” He asked after a long pause.

“Mhmm. Now you see why I don’t see them unless I have to. They just remind me of everything I’m not.” She said, looking out the window at the evening sky.

“That I do. I’ll be sending them something later, don’t worry.” He said.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her stomach dropping as she pictured him killing her family.

“You’re not going to kill them are you?” She asked.

“No...they’re not worth my time. At least not now anyway. And besides...I wouldn’t want to hurt you more than they already have.” He said, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips.

“Tommy look, I know my father got in your way on a mission and I know he made you stay longer than you wanted to...but you can’t blame him for doing his job. He was trying to help. He may not be the best, although he’s far nicer than my mother and sister, so if anything, please spare him at least. That’s all I ask.” She said.

“Like I said, they’re not worth my time now, love. If they continue bashing you and my family for how we do business I’ll let you know first alright? But I can’t let them off without a warning, so I’ll send them a letter alright?” He said.

“Well it better be good then. That’s the last I want to hear of this feud. I can deliver it to them if it will help...to make a point at least.” She said.

“Take this then, it won’t be good.” He said giving her a handgun from his jacket.

“I’m not shooting my family Tommy!” She said loudly as they approached the Garrison.

“It’s not for them. It’s for you. They’re not the nicest people and I want you safe. Especially since you work for us now. If they hurt one of us they hurt all of us alright? I know that’s not what you want to hear but it’s how this business works. Now...let’s go have some fun aye.” He said, helping her out of the car and into the bar that was teeming with people from the shop.

“Oi! How’d the wedding go? You’re both home early.” Arthur asked, handing them both a glass of whiskey.

“Terrible. Tommy’s writing a letter tomorrow to put them on their toes.” She said.

“Did they say summin’ about ya?” He asked.

“Yes...and about the company.” Thomas added.

“I thought we told him last time that we’d blind him.” Arthur said, an angry look in his eyes.

“Aye we did. But that didn’t account for her mother and sister. They have a way with words don’t they love?” Thomas asked.

“Mhmm. I’m delivering it, maybe then they’ll take what they say more seriously next time.” She said.

“We can only hope.” Thomas said, snaking an arm around her waist as they spent the rest of the night at the Garrison before going to their respected homes, too worried about the mission to do anything else.

The next week, Thomas signed the end of the letter, his hand cramping from the amount of things he’d written. Wanting to make sure his threat came off clear as day.

“Here Tommy, put this in with it.” Y/N said, handing him a lone razor blade, making him raise an eyebrow.

“Just in case they want to make anymore remarks, they can do us a favor and blind themselves. Like you said, they’re not worth your time now.” She said with a small smirk.

He took a sip of his whiskey and pointed to her with a grin, ushering her to come over to him.

“I like how you think.” He said, pulling her close and kissing her lips ever so lightly. The feeling between them almost electric as they departed.

“I’ll go take care of this, you go on with your business.” She said, as he handed her the letter.

“You know how to shoot?” He asked.

“Mhmm. Been practicing with John.” She said with a smirk.

“Alright, love you.” He said, as he caught himself muttering those words out sooner than he wanted to. But the truth was he couldn’t stand to see her go, not without knowing she was safe.

She stood there for a moment, looking at him as a smile spread across her face.

“I love you too.” She said before walking out the door to drive to the dreaded house she grew up in. Hoping this letter would keep them at bay for once in her life. Knowing her only chance at freedom from her family’s binds were through the doors of the shop and in the arms of the man she loved.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore, @xxbeckybeexx-blog

If you’d like to be added/removed, just send me an ask/message! :)

#peaky blinders #katiesanons #katiesrequests #katiesfics #katieswiplist #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x female!reader #thomas shelby x y/n

151 notes · View notes

thesschesthair · 3 years

Text

So a few months back, @laschatzi and I decided to write a few fics about CS and Killian from the observation of Smee. Because she has a wonderful brain, four moments from the eyes of Smee were born.

They're little missing scenes and 'what ifs' we came up with.

@laschatzi's fantastic stories can be found here.

GO READ THEM, THEY'RE WONDERFUL!

What His Captain Needs

summary: Set in 3x17. After his unsatisfying talk with Killian, Smee watches his Captain from afar talk to Emma Swan and her son. And suddenly he understands a few things

It's Forever

summary: Mr. Smee has more or less settled into his new life in Storybrooke and hasn't seen a lot of his Captain in some time, when one evening he approaches him and seems to have something on his mind.

My first contribution is below.

I hope you like them and enjoy our journey from the eyes of one Mister Smee 😁

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

Who is she?

Smee finds Hook in his cabin after the incident with time-travelling Emma. Set after 3x21.

The ship was eerily quiet when he boarded just before dawn. His mop still remained up against the mast, and while the orange rays of the sun had begun peeking out in the distance, he hadn’t seen any signs of his captain.

He made his way down towards the captain’s quarters, hoping to high heavens that he could peek in unnoticed and make sure all was right within.

He wasn’t interested in seeing whatever he had gotten up to last night with his lady friend, but more to make sure he was still there… only the door was ajar and yet still no sound came from within.

Pushing it open further, he caught sight of a familiar set of leather boots on the floor.

Smee rushed to his captain’s side and attempted to wake him, received when he heard a pained groan leave his waking form.

“Bloody hell.” he rasped as Smee helped him to sit up.

Hook held one hand to his forehead as if trying to stop his skull from splitting open.

“What happened, Captain?”

“I don’t know.” he muttered as he finally climbed to his feet with his first mate’s help.

“Was it that woman?”

“What woman?”

Smee looked at him confused.

“The blonde woman you brought onboard-”

“I don’t remember bringing- are you sure?”

“Aye.” Smee insisted, “some blonde from the tavern. You told me to clear out right after. Don’t you remember?”

“Clearly not.” Hook gritted through his teeth, feeling frustrated and angry at his lack of memory. He began to search the cabin as hastily as he could manage with his throbbing head and queasy stomach.

“Well.. why were you on the floor?” Smee continued to ask questions, oblivious to Hook’s rising temper.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be standing here listening to a buffoon ask me questions, would I?!” he snapped finally, regretting the volume as it pierced his brain.

Smee sank back from the verbal lashing and observed Hook’s manic search before he stopped and sighed.

“Well, she doesn’t appear to have taken anything… whoever she was.”

“Maybe it was the rum?”

“Aye.” Hook agreed half heartedly.

Whatever had happened the night before, it clearly did not bode well for Hook’s image. To take a lady home and pass out before any activities could occur would be hell on his reputation… even more so to leave his quarters open to any form of theft.

Hook turned to Smee and leant in close.

“I trust you can keep this little inconvenience between us?” he asked with a threatening malice.

“Of course, Captain.” Smee agreed, ever so loyal.

“I don’t think i’d have to remind you of the damage it could do, should a cock up like this become public knowledge?”

“Smee nodded once again, assuring him.

“You have my word.”

“Good.” Hook finally let his shoulders sag before turning once again.

“Best return to our normal routines- and not a word about this ever again.”

Smee scurried out of the cabin and back up to the deck while Hook pondered his very lucky escape.

He thought about hunting down the mysterious woman, if not to save his reputation, to at least learn of who she was… but how does one find someone they couldn’t remember?

He decided to let it go.

He had a lucky escape, his gold remained untouched and for now, his legacy untarnished. He’d do well to be more cautious next time.

Perhaps lay off the rum…

He chuckled at his own thoughts.

Like that would ever happen.

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan fanfic

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 34: Ghost of the Garden

Summary: The final chapter of Arc II

Read on AO3

Read chp 34 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 34: Ghost of the Garden

***

The garden reminded him of her in the best and worst way. At least going outside to the tranquility of the Scottish dreich— overcast sky and wind whipping at his face— made him feel something. The garden was supposed to be hers. Jamie was hopeless with plants; he killed nearly everything that required his care. But his lass— his sweet wife— she had known exactly how to make the plants grow and thrive with life.

Just like she’d done to him.

Only without her, the garden was as barren as Jamie himself.

Sitting down next to the depressing patch of earth, Jamie buried his hands into the dirt. He clutched at it, curling his fingers around the mud as if it were his wife herself to which he was holding on. Distantly, he felt hot tears streaking their way down his face.

He couldn’t help it when he thought of her.

Jamie couldn’t even remember why he’d come out here. Maybe it was to feel close to her. But now all he felt was that terrible longing that tore him limb from limb. He ached to hold her again. He cursed himself for squandering the time they’d had. The warmth of her body in his arms was now nothing more than a fading memory that left him closing his eyes against the sharp sting of the past.

The one thing he couldn’t bring himself to regret was marrying her. Because now, during his lowest moments, when all he had was the dirt under his fingernails to hold on to, he could say softly to himself... “my wife.”

Bringing a sleeve up to swipe at his tears, Jamie took a deep breath. Repeating “wife,” in his mind like a mantra, he picked up the spade he had brought with him.

“For my wife,” he murmured as he broke the ground.

***

Jamie worked for hours on the garden. He tore up the weeds, added potting soil, planted his seeds, and gave them water. Finally, he sat back, looking at the bare patch of ground that would hopefully one day be bursting with life.

He made a promise to himself— or to her, he wasn’t entirely certain, because it was for her that he made the promise— that he would continue on long enough to see the garden flourish. In her memory.

And if it took him the rest of his days, he would keep trying. At least he could pretend he was doing one last thing for her.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks again. It was funny, he never seemed to notice when he started crying these days. He simply became aware after the fact. His body was just so used to living in a constant state of grief that it didn’t think to notify him when the tears actually escaped instead of saying trapped inside.

He was standing. He’d meant to go inside. But at this fresh wave of tears, he sat down heavily on the ground again. Burying his face in his dirty palms, he let the sobs out. He cried until his insides hurt.

God, lass. I miss ye so much I can hardly breathe.

He found himself doing that more and more— talking to her ghost. The memory of her that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

But he’d never seen her before. Not until he looked up in the moment, through his tears, and imagined her walking toward him across the moor. Clothed in her white dress, the very one he’d sent her away in, his vision was the image of perfection. Her curls blew in the wind, whipping around her head. Although she was too far away from him to see her face, he’d imagined she was wearing a smile. Damn his fantasies for not being closer. Even so, it was probably fitting that she was that far out of reach.

Only when he blinked, she was still there. Coming closer. He shook his head and looked again. The image drew closer still.

His heart beating wildly in his chest, Jamie shot to his feet. He swayed a little, the blood rushing to his head, but he didn’t once take his eyes off the ethereal vision.

The second he was standing, the figure broke out into a run toward him.

Oh Christ.

Oh Good Lord in Heaven.

It was her.

It was really her.

Claire.

Jamie didn’t have time to feel. He didn’t have time to think. His feet were taking off, carrying him in the fastest sprint of his life.

He didn’t have time to question whether he was losing his mind. He simply knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was her, in the same way he’d known she was not human the first time he’d laid eyes on her or known they were meant to be together. He couldn’t question what he knew to be true. He simply needed to go to her. His body commanded him when his brain had completely shut down. And so he went, pumping his legs with all his might.

It was almost like awareness blinked out. He could see her running faster, coming closer, but everything in the world stopped until the very moment when she crashed into him.

Her body. Real. alive. Knocking him flat on his back.

All the air whooshed out of his lungs as he hit the ground, her body on top of him adding to the impact.

But then her mouth was covering his and the breath was knocked out of him for an entirely different reason.

Everything about her consumed him. Her lips on his, kissing as if her life depended on it. Her body spread down the length of his— soft and small and real and alive. Her gasping breaths that she took against his lips. Her soft cry of “Jamie,” into his mouth. The wetness of her tears against his face.

He couldn’t breathe let alone answer her. His hands had come up around her, holding on for dear life. He kissed her with all his soul and every ounce of life in his body.

When his brain finally caught up enough, her name fell from his lips in what was nearly a whimper. “Claire?”

She withdrew her lips for long enough to nod, gazing down on him with those whisky eyes that made him feel like he would combust.

“Yes, Jamie,” she gasped out, nodding her head earnestly.

A cry tore from Jamie’s throat and then they were kissing again, their mouths clashing in passion and longing and tenderness all at the same time.

He broke them apart just long enough to muster a bewildered— but very, very grateful— “ye’re here?”

She shook her head this time, her smile spreading over her features and warming Jamie to the very marrow of his bones.

“I’m here. I’ll explain later. Please, just kiss me.”

And so he did. He shot up to a sitting position, taking Claire with him so he could hold her astride his lap. He took her whole body in his arms, enveloping her as much as he could possibly manage, and then he kissed her for all he was worth.

He poured every ounce of heartbreak he’d experienced over the last three weeks into the kiss, finding his heart shattered still but mending with every press of her lips, every wee sound she made into his mouth, and the way her hands tugged at his curls and roamed over his body as if she couldn't get enough of touching him.

His faerie.

Home.

Nothing felt more right than holding her safe in his arms again. Buzzing with life and holding him back just as fiercely.

His breath hitched in his lungs as he tried to draw in air, his body reeling from the emotion coursing through his veins. One person probably shouldn’t have experienced this much joy following such intense grief. It shouldn’t have been possible. He felt like he was about to have a stroke; he was so deliriously happy. He felt like he was floating, disembodied yet experiencing everything so acutely.

“I love you,” tore from his throat and was caught by her mouth.

That had been the last thing he’d said to her. Those three words were the most important he could ever say. He would repeat them so long as she was there to hear him and there was breath in his lungs.

His hand was gripping tightly in her hair, and he used his hold to gently tear her away from his lips so he could lock eyes with her. Pouring out his heart, he repeated, “Christ, Claire. I’ve been dying. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, a tear tracking down her cheek in a perfect line.

He shook his head doggedly and immediately brought his hand up to brush it away.

“Please, mo ghraidh. No tears. As long as ye’re in my arms, there isnae room for tears.”

“I’m crying because I’m happy, Jamie,” she whispered, a breathless laugh accompanying her watery smile.

“Oh God, Claire. I’ve never been happier.”

He kissed her again. Just like the first time she’d kissed him, her mouth made him feel grounded and uprooted all at once. He was so incredibly lost in her. The reality of her presence and her love filled his senses until nothing existed except her.

Claire broke free of his lips with a muffled “Hey. I thought you said no tears.”

Both of her hands came up to cup his cheeks and her thumbs bushed away tears he hadn’t even realized were wetting his face.

He chuckled breathlessly and reached for her face as well to wipe away the moisture there.

“Alright. Maybe that rule starts tomorrow, then.”

As the word tomorrow left his lips, fear suddenly seized his gut, making his blood run cold. He stiffened and tried to steel himself enough to force out the question that could potentially rip him from the inside out. “Ye are… ye’ll be here tomorrow… aye?” he asked, failing to keep the tremor from his voice.

“Yes, Jamie,” Claire breathed, “I’ll be here today, tomorrow, and the rest of your days. If ye’ll have me?” Her voice raised at the end in question.

Jamie wasted no time in answering, his voice heavy with reverence, “Of course I’ll have you. My wife.”

When his mind made it past the earth-shattering immediacy of her, beyond the sorrow of the past month, and finally beyond the satisfaction of calling her wife, he suddenly remembered with acute and heartbreaking clarity why he’d sent her back through the stones in the first place. Christ, how had he forgotten? The memory came crashing down on him with unbearable gravity, freezing him once again.

“Oh Christ,” he tore away from her like he’d been bitten, “oh God, Claire, ye canna be here. Ye canna stay, ye’ll die. I willna see ye wasting away again, I canna bear it. Ye have to go back. Ye—“

“Jamie,” Claire spoke his name with a serenity mixed with what was nearly a chuckle as she cut off the frantic stream of words. When he still looked at her wildly, clutching her as if she’d turn to dust, she repeated, more sternly this time, “Jamie. I figured out how I can stay on this plane.”

Jamie stopped his frantic motions where he’d been pawing at her sides like he could pull her into himself.

“What? How—“

Claire gestured to her chest, and only then did Jamie’s eyes flick down and take in the sight of a large opal resting on a golden chain. It was about the size of a newborn’s fist, pearly white with streaks of color running through it. Ethereal and otherworldly, just like Claire herself.

“It’s a long story. Please, Jamie. I— I’ve been so lonely and so heartbroken without you that I felt I must surely die. I just… I want to feel you.”

He could never say no to her before, so he never even stood a chance against the request made with such pleading from within those teary eyes. Jamie felt exactly the same— like if they stopped touching for even a moment then the reality of the situation would be ripped away.

“You can touch me now,” he breathed.

Tightening his arms around her where she sat in his lap, Jamie crushed her to his chest. He ran his hands up and down her back— caressing or simply feeling, he didn’t know— until his hands came up to frame her face. Holding her between his palms, he brought his lips slowly back to capture hers.

They sat there for a long time, alone on the moor save the presence of the wind and the strength of their love that seemed to hum around them. The world that had been so empty only minutes before was now bursting with life.

Still, a prickle of unease crawled its way into the back of his mind, interrupting his unfathomable joy. He couldn’t stand to let the perfection of her be ruined by his worries. Reluctantly, he drew back again, Claire whining and chasing his lips as he did.

“As much as I didna think I could ever refuse to kiss ye, I’m afraid I canna rest until I hear the whole story and ken ye’re safe. Will ye come inside?” The question was a bit shy, almost hesitant. As if there were some small part of him afraid she would say no.

“Yes,” she breathed, with such solemnity it was as if she was agreeing to spend her life with him. And really, she was.

His wife.

Extricating herself from him and managing to get her legs back underneath her, Claire stood from his lap. Jamie scrambled up beside her just as she was starting to turn to look in the direction of the house.

Feeling unsettled again, Jamie lowered his eyes and stepped up toward her side as his heartbeat thundered in his chest.

“Hold my hand?” he requested, fixing his beseeching gaze on her, “I think I may die if I let ye go even for a moment.”

It was true. If they weren’t touching, he felt like she’d dissolve in front of him and send him catapulting back into the hollow darkness.

“Jamie Fraser, if I had it my way, I’d never let go for even a second,” she said, her smile wide and so sweet it made Jamie’s knees go rubbery and banished the lingering disquiet in his heart. It was like a key fitting into a lock inside him to see his smile. His whole being seemed to breathe a sigh.

There was his faerie.

Even before he’d left her, she’d been too weak to be her usual self. But seeing her— playful and clingy and so endearing all at once— made him want to fall to his knees and give thanks to the Lord. He certainly would, he already was, but for now, he’d stay on his feet and take Claire inside.

She slipped her hand into his before he’d even finished thinking all this. Her wee palm slotted into his, where it fit so perfectly. Two halves of one whole. Too long had his hand been empty.

Every little thing she did felt monumental to his tortured soul.

They walked side by side toward the house, quiet as both of them came to terms with the immensity of their emotions.

But just before they reached the door, Jamie suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He pulled Claire to a stop next to him before she could take another step.

“Wait,” he said.

Abruptly, he leaned down and scooped Claire up off her feet and into his arms. She laughed in surprise, and her arms came around his neck to hold on.

“Jamie, I’m fine,” she laughed, “I’m perfectly capable of walking—”

He looked down at her, his smile growing with every passing second.

“I ken,” he said, feeling like his heart was going to burst. “It’s jes’ a human tradition. The first time a husband and wife step foot in their home, the husband carries his bride over the threshold.”

Claire looked nearly wrecked by this as her lips turned down in a smile that was so full of emotion she couldn't even contain it.

“Oh,” she said softly, “well. Carry on, then, husband.”

Hearing that word from her lips had the power to make him drop her, only she was far too precious cargo for that. Finding his footing both physically and emotionally, Jamie managed to take the few steps forward and cross the threshold. Bringing his new wife home.

***

They laid face-to-face in bed, Jamie tracing the lines of Claire’s face. He was absolutely fixated. What had only been a dream and a painful memory to him for the last month was right there in front of him, bathed in the soft light of his lamp and smiling like her heart was in her lips. Jamie could stare at her for hours— would even, before the day was done— and he couldn’t stop touching her. He’d trace over her skin until his fingers were convinced of its reality, and then he’d do it some more.

“Alright, lass. Please, tell me the story?”

Claire, stubborn as ever, leaned in to press a peck to his lips before she settled in to explain.

“When I woke up… after…” she had to swallow barely five words into her account, “I thought I was dead. Only it was worse. I tried to get back to the stones. Jamie, I was ready to come back.”

At this moment, Jamie started to protest, feeling like his guts were being torn out, but Claire stopped him with a shake of her head. “But fate had other plans. Because even as I crawled toward the stones, I lost consciousness again. When I woke the second time, I was with another fae. He’d taken me away from that place.”

Jamie’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart start to beat faster despite the fact that she lay there next to him, safe and sound.

“I had never met him before, but somehow he seemed to know things. I must have babbled about you in my delirium, because he knew your name. He knew… he knew I loved you and lost you. He was patient but firm as I begged and pleaded for him to take me back to the stones.”

Claire took a deep breath, the pain she had been through shining in her eyes. “When I was well enough to speak, he asked me to tell him the story. So I did. I didn’t have anything left to lose, I just let it all out. When I had finished everything, he finally explained who he was.”

“His name was Ottertooth. I still don’t know why he was helping me. Best I could figure, he had a fascination with the stones, maybe even with the human plane. I think... “ she took a breath, “I think maybe I was an experiment to him. He told me that there was a way to exist in the human realm. A stone that could connect me to the energy of our plane.”

Jamie perked up at this, eyeing the stone around her neck with gratitude and budding hope.

“He took me across the land to a cave. One he called Abandawe. It was there that I would find the stone. Only… it didn’t come free.” She lowered her eyes, as if hesitating over whether she wanted to tell him the next part, so he prompted her with a gentle, “it’s alright. Tell me.”

“To come here, to the human plane, I had to be marked. I… I had to give something up.”

Jamie felt his blood turn to ice. He sat up as Claire did, but remained rooted in place and she turned around. She dropped the straps of her dress and shrugged the back lower.

He couldn’t manage to stifle the gasp that rose inside him at the sight. Her beautiful, delicate wings bore three stripes each, deep gashes that had since turned black, marring their perfection. They were like claw marks, branding her. As if drawn by some invisible force, Jamie reached out and traced just above one gash, feeling his heartbeat in his throat.

“It’s a mark, nothing more. It shows I am an outcast,” she said, voice nonchalant, “That was the sacrifice, you see. To get the stone and the ability to remain for good on the human plane, I had to renounce my own realm. Give up my place among the fair folk. But it was a small price to pay for this stone.” Her words were light, and Jamie didn’t doubt the truth of her heart, but he knew that it had not been a “small price.” Not in the least.

Claire continued on before he could say anything. “I laid in pain for days afterward, but it was nothing compared to how I felt before… before I had hope of returning to you.”

Jamie let out a whine of distress. He could imagine her, those perfect wings lying crumpled and leaving her in agony.

For him.

“And that was that. I had the stone then. As soon as I could get to my feet, I made my way back to the standing stones. I made it through, and when I woke up on the other side, I couldn’t waste any time. I started walking and walking. And, well… you know the rest.”

She turned back to him then, readjusting the straps of her dress and giving him a reassuring smile.

Jamie couldn’t find words, but his heart broke. “Christ, Claire. I’m so sorry. Yer wings… Yer people…”

A hand on his face cut him off. It was a tender touch, loving, but it left no room for his argument.

“I told you, Jamie. I paid the price happily. And I would do it a thousand times over to be with you.”

Jamie had no idea what to say. Tears beaded at his eyes, and he had to inhale sharply.

“I’m… I’m so verra grateful that ye came back, Claire,” he finally managed, his eyes shining. He knew she wasn’t looking for thanks, but in the light of her sacrifice, he couldn’t let it go unsaid.

“I’m so grateful I was given the chance,” Claire breathed in response.

Jamie leaned in close, resting his forehead against hers and letting out a sigh. He held himself back to kissing her— from losing himself again in her nearness and affection. Instead, he asked, “so, as long as ye wear this gem, ye’ll be connected to yer realm? Ye’ll draw energy from it so ye can remain here?”

Claire nodded against his forehead. “We can be together.”

Jamie swallowed, hard. But this time, it wasn’t heartache or guilt choking his airways. It was her words— paired with the sight of the dress that had been her wedding dress slung low on her body— that brought desire coursing through every vein.

He placed his hand around the back of her neck and drew her in so he could kiss her. Their lips melded together and her hands seemed to travel everywhere over his chest and back and shoulders. He sighed into her mouth before he pulled back to look her in the eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, turning the whisky color to only a thin ring. They held a dreamy look, glazed with longing.

There was one thing on both of their minds.

There scarcely could have been otherwise.

They had been deprived of a wedding night. But here they were. Lying face to face in bed. Man and wife.

“I love ye, Claire. And I meant what I told ye before I sent ye back. I love ye with all my heart and soul, and I promise I willna ever stop,” he breathed, edging closer.

“I never got to tell you…” her breath hitched as he leaned in and began to trail kisses along her jaw, “you’re my everything. I love you. Jamie, I love you more than I ever thought possible to love another. And I promise you the same. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Ye did tell me, Claire. Ye sacrificed yer people and endured so much— for me. And ye’re here.”

Their eyes met, and matching shudders overtook them. With extreme tenderness, Jamie reached down and placed both of their wrists together, twining his hand around her arm just as he had that day when they were handfast.

And all at once, it seemed the vows they had made could truly be fulfilled.

Two hearts became one.

Two lives became one.

And two forevers became one.

Words seemed to have reached an end, and they were anxious to be near each other— body and soul, close in every way possible.

They came together with tender touches and whispered words of love. All the sorrow was soothed in each other's arms. And with her, Jamie finally became whole.

As they lay together afterward, basking in the nearness of each other, Jamie couldn’t help but keep leaning forward for more gentle kisses.

“I love you. Now and forever,” he poured his heart out with the simple words.

“You are my forever, Jamie Fraser,” she breathed.

“And ye’re mine.”

All that was left was to decide what to do with the eternity they’d been granted.

***

To be continued...

A/n: IMPORTANT please read: This sounded like an ending but I promise it’s not! I want to tell you about what they decide to do with forever, so there is so much more story to come. I will be going on a hiatus for a number of weeks, but please please stick around. I’ll probably give status updates on my tumblr and my twitter @jamiemackfraser when I return, and if you’re subscribed to the story on AO3 then you won’t miss anything. (I’m guessing mid/late July I'll be back?)

After my hiatus, there will be a couple of “ficlets”, basically some scattered stories that take place between arc II and III, and then arc III will pick up. But don’t worry, it’ll all be right here in this work so it’s easy to find!

Finally, I like to post a bit of commentary after each arc. You can find it on my tumblr. It has some interesting tidbits and I hope you’ll check it out. Thank you so very much for reading, all you lovely people, and I’ll see you in a little while! <3

***

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 14 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Here comes the whump!! There's a good amount of violence in this chapter (well, not really, but it's more than I've ever written). As always, if you need more details you can message me!

Rated M

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~~~~

“Hello, hard worker,” she hears from the door as it creeps open. Looking up from the blank screen, she smiles at Tink.

“Hi,” she greets in return. “How are you?”

Tink gives her a smirk and chuckles. “Probably not as good as you are.” Emma’s eyes widen and her cheeks turn hot at the implication. She doesn’t even know what Tink is implying, but she does know that she’s pretty experienced in all things related to sex, so her assumtion probably has some backing. “I’m not gonna say anything,” she finally consoles.

“You know?”

She moves into the room, the door already shut as she makes her way for the chair Killian usually sits in. “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re worried about. But when he mentioned leaving, and when he mentioned getting you out, specifically… It was obvious.”

“Oh,” Emma nods, biting her bottom lip into her mouth. It’s sweet that the way he talks about her gives him away, but she can’t help but feel nervous about it. Could he be giving himself away to just anyone?

“It’s also obvious that he loves you, just so you know. But only because we’ve been friends for so long.”

She takes her words as consolation. They’ve been each other’s only friend for years, learning each other emotionally and physically, so it makes sense that Tink would figure it out before anyone else does. “Thanks,” she says with a smile.

“And I don’t want you to worry. He ended things with me the night you came here. He and I are friends before anything else; I’m just happy that he’s so happy.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Emma says truthfully. “I trust him. And… and you.”

“Good,” she says pleasantly, her smile meaningful as she seems to understand Emma’s sentiment; her implication that they’ve become friends, too. “So I guess you’re just sitting here and wasting time until we can go, huh?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. She enjoys Tink’s company. It’s easy to laugh with her, her lightheartedness contagious despite them both knowing the danger they're in. Killian has been quietly planning their escape, and it’s almost time to go, so the danger is getting more and more real as the minutes tick on.

They sit for a while, joking and laughing together, and Emma reflects silently on how nice it is to have a friend. Killian’s been her friend from the moment they met, but she hasn’t felt this close to another girl in all of her life. She hasn’t felt supported and genuinely liked by another girl since she was a kid, before the runaways and the homelessness left her completely and utterly alone.

“You seem happier,” Tink reflects with a soft smile. “The first time we met… Just-- I’m sorry, Emma. I should have been nicer to you. I’m just glad things are starting to look up for you now.”

“Thank you,” she smiles. “It’s nice having a friend.”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “Elsa’s nice but… I don’t know.”

The conversation takes an unexpected turn, guiding Emma down a path she didn’t know was there. The inclusion of Elsa in their discussion of friendship should seem natural enough, but Tink’s suggestion is that she isn’t as good a friend as either of them are to each other.

“What?” she asks, easily letting her confusion be known.

“Something about her,” she answers with a shrug. “I never trusted her. Killian does, though.”

“Well, she’s almost like his sister-in-law, right?”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess. Not like that seems to mean much to her. Her loyalty lies with her family.”

Emma’s eyes narrow suspiciously, wondering what on earth Tink is talking about, where she’s gotten this idea, and what she could possibly know that Killian doesn’t. Killian is Elsa's family. “What are you--”

“Hi,” Killian says as he pushes the door open. She bites down against the smile teasing at her lips.

“Hi,” she whispers back. “Everything okay?”

She wasn’t expecting to see him today, not in the middle of the day, at least. But his arrival is nothing short of a pleasant surprise. It’s not entirely unusual for him to pop in during the day and see how things are going for her, but they should be lying low to avoid stirring suspicion, especially after their risky meetup in the bathroom last night.

“Aye, just checking in,” he answers as he bends to plant a kiss to her forehead. “Morning, love,” he says to Tink.

“Good morning, fearless leader. Everything all set for today?”

“Yes, indeed,” he answers playfully. She hasn’t ever seen him this light and happy outside of his bed when they share it together. The prospect of finally, finally leaving is a weight lifted off of all of their shoulders, and it’s clear that his spirits are lifting the closer they get to implementing their escape. “Just taking care of some last minute details.”

Tink nods knowingly, and Emma immediately wonders what he’s talking about. Without her having to ask, she turns to Emma and explains, “convincing Elsa to go will take a certain level of… finesse.”

“Not to worry,” Killian consoles gently, placing his hand on hers and giving her a soft and loving smile. It’s the one she knows he saves just for her-- the one she never saw until they started to get close. “I’ll take care of it. I’m about to go and talk to her now, I just couldn’t resist giving my lady love a kiss before I went.”

She giggles like someone who has never felt pain before and he bends towards her, planting a soft, slow kiss to her lips that leaves her craving more. She’ll always crave more. And soon, she won’t have to deny herself the pleasure of being with him

~~~~

They’re almost ready. Robin and Killian just need a few more things, some food and clothes and weapons with which to defend themselves, before they're ready to depart. Emma has already shaken enough from Neal’s safe to last them, and she’s certain that he hasn’t noticed and likely won’t until long after they’re gone. The availability of Gold’s yacht is certainly convenient as well, but they must be careful to load their supplies at the last minute, just before they're ready to leave, to avoid being caught.

Really, all that’s left is to round each of them up. Tink is more than ready, the two of them dreaming of fleeing for years and finally ready to take action. Robin has been silently wishing his life to be different since he was born into the club. The only person he truly worries about is Elsa, because she’s been gaslighted and unfortunately hasn’t been able to see past their tactics. She spent most of her life here, her mother bringing her and her sister into this lifestyle when they were just children. Now, he has to go against decades of brainwashing to convince her that it’s dangerous here-- that it’s not worth the risk that comes with staying.

He’s just stepping out of his apartment, having just dropped off some groceries, when it happens. He doesn't even see who does it. He isn’t sure who hits him and with what. But in the blink of an eye, his hopes are dashed as his world goes dark.

~~~~

The blackness fades slowly, the buzzing around the edges of his vision dissolving as he comes to. He moves to scrub his hand over his eyes, but it doesn’t move, prevented by the rough material around his wrist. His other stays put as well, the same material keeping him still.

Of course, he thinks in the darkness of the muggy, dank room. Of course this is happening. They were so happy-- they were so close. Of course they’re found out just before they planned to leave.

“Ah, he lives. Glad you didn’t knock him out too hard, Neal.”

“I want him to suffer some more before I do.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but when he tries, he’s met with innumerable pain. Neal must have done a number on him, his eye swollen and painful. With each breath, his ribs sting and he hisses. He mumbles, “Bloody hell,” but it’s probably a bad idea.

Another fist strikes the left side of his face, further damaging his skin and the bone and tissue underneath and making him cry out. “You’re in for it now, Hook,” Neal hisses. “Elsa told Peter what you did, and I'm gonna make you suffer for it.”

He lets out a pained groan, blood trickling from his cheek. He tries again to wipe it away, but the ropes stop him, burning the tender skin of his wrist. “Elsa?” he asks in confusion, still fighting against the haze that’s perpetuated by another strike, this time to his right cheek. His neck cracks in such a way that can’t be good news as his head is whipped to the side.

“That’s right. Did you expect loyalty from your family? Good luck with that. Unlike you, she understands that we are her family.”

Something hard whacks against his shin, making him cry in pain again. It’s not a fist; more likely to be a metal rod or perhaps a plank of wood. “That’s right, Neal,” Peter praises. “We’re all family. Elsa doesn’t have loyalty to only one.”

“Because you’ve brainwashed her,” he argues, met with another strike against his already stinging ribs.

“We’ve enlightened her. She’s dedicated to her family.” He isn’t even sure which one of them speaks as Neal delivers another sharp blow to his chin.

His ears ring as Neal’s open palms meet them, clapping both sides of his head at once and making his eyes grow wide in breathless agony. He can barely make a sound in response, his jaw dropping but any noise in protest stuck in his throat.

As the fog in his brain clears after a few moments, Neal allowing him to recover slightly before continuing his torture, he finally speaks again. “She also told us how she found out. She overheard you in the bathroom. During Rufio’s funeral. You sick bastard.”

His hand finds Killian’s throat, squeezing firmly until one eye starts twitching and his lips begin to go numb. Then he squeezes harder.

“Tell him what she heard, Neal.”

“You murdered Rufio,” he accuses knowingly, and Killian realizes that any sense of privacy that he and Emma thought they had was false, even with the door locked. Elsa must’ve gone to use the bathroom they commandeered, and she must’ve been forced to tell Peter and Neal what she overheard when she was caught, too.

“And what else?”

“She heard you attacking my girlfriend,” he hisses, throwing Killian back until his throat is released, although it’s at the expense of his back as the chair tips and he lands solidly against the concrete ground. “She heard you trying to take advantage of her!”

He lets out a rasped, choking sound as Neal’s boot pushes against his throat, barely giving him time to recover from his last assault. He can’t breathe, the muscles in his neck protesting against the firm weight pressed to him. He isn’t sure if the back of his head hit the floor when he collided with it, but he knows that would be bad.

“You fucking bastard!” Neal screams, clearly not worried about their location or activities being given away by an excessive noise level. “You tried to ruin her? Why?!”

Neal’s question needs to be answered with finesse. He can’t say anything that will imply that Emma was in any way a willing participant in their activities. He can’t let Neal find out that their affair is two-sided-- that they love each other. That they plan to run away together.

Of course, the possibility of their plan actually going off at this point is slim. Honestly, Neal might kill him tonight, his derangement making it impossible for him to see that Emma wants out just as badly as he does.

“Answer me!” he finally screams again, removing his boot and driving it forcefully into Killian's ribs. He can’t even double over, or roll onto his side to ease the pain, because he’s still bound to his chair. “Did that whore let you soil her? Or did you force yourself on her?”

“She had noth-- nothing to do with it,” he gasps, barely able to speak, barely able to breathe. “It meant nothing; she means nothing to me. I just did it to piss you off.”

Neal kicks his broken ribs again and Killian sees white. His vision blurs in response to his torment, but he hopes he doesn’t pass out because he knows he might not wake up if he does. It would be so easy to give into the blackness that clouds the outer rim of his sight, but he can’t.

“You took advantage of her. She’s weak, she can’t defend herself. She doesn't know what’s best for her. How dare you?”

“Aye,” he agrees painfully. It hurts to admit this in falsity almost as much as it hurts when Neal’s heel drives into his stomach.

He hears Peter say something, but his voice is tinny in his ears and he can’t make out his words. He’s slipping under the blanket of unconsciousness, the numbness taking over far too intriguing as he lets his eyes fall shut and his mind go black.

~~~~

“Bring him out,” Peter commands, his violent voice making Emma jump in her seat. She can’t help but notice that her chair has been placed suspiciously closer to Neal’s than it usually is. He sits beside her, his body still and rigid and his eyes staring straight ahead. His face is threatening and tense, his jaw locked. “I need everyone to see what happens when you betray this family.”

A family meeting was called unexpectedly, interrupting Emma's sham of dedication to her research. She and Tink stared at each other, terror written across both of their faces as they stood and followed the small crowd to the intimidating room, met with Peter looking absolutely irate at the head of the table. Neal’s knuckles are bruised and bloodied, she’s realized.

The door opens slowly, two men dragging along a limp and seemingly lifeless form before throwing him into a chair and laughing when he groans.

Killian.

Emma stiffens, her eyes stinging and filling with tears that she immediately works to blink away. She bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood. She can’t let anyone see her reaction to seeing him like this, but the fact is, she thinks she might be dying on the inside.

He’s so broken, so mutilated. The bruises on his face make him almost unrecognizable, the swelling of his eyes and chin and cheeks distorting his beautiful features painfully. He’s holding his arm over his middle, likely suffering from some injuries to his ribs. He looks like he can barely breathe. There are deep purple bruises painted around his neck, taking on the shape of someone’s angry fingers.

The same angry fingers grab for hers, and she knows immediately that Neal has done this to him. He’s hurt her endlessly, but now he’s battered the man she loves, and this cannot stand.

“Tell the men what you’ve done, Hook,” Peter insists. One of the men holding him upright in his chair, Walsh, snickers madly.

“I--” he starts, his voice rough and tattered. Walsh laughs as he pushes his hand against one of his bruises for sport, causing Killian to wince. “I killed Rufio.”

The men around the table gasp, each of them straightening and making as though they’re about to stand and hurt him even more.

“And what else?”

“I tried to damage Neal’s property. I manipulated her; I told her lies to make her believe that I felt something for her.”

The words are rehearsed. They trained him in exactly what to say. But still, she feels a stab in her heart at him announcing that she means nothing to him. “And tell them why.”

“Because I’m mad. I wanted to cause Neal pain. And I--” he cries out again as Walsh pushes his finger against another angry bruise, laughing at his response. “I want to cause the club to suffer.”

“He wants the club to suffer, and he’s succeeded. I want everyone to take a long, hard look at the man who used to be our brother. Killian Jones is a dead man. He’ll die at sunrise, but for now, he’s to act as a symbol to anyone considering betraying the club. We’re a family, and we will not be trifled with.”

The crowd around the table cheers loudly in agreement, each of them getting riled up in response to Peter’s ostentatious speech. He continues, “As for the Kings of Elsinore, we’ll continue our plans of attack. I don’t know about you lot, but I’ve about had enough of people who want to see us suffer. No one messes with the Lost Boys and lives to tell the tale!” The men cheer, fists banging against the table and making Emma jump. “They Kings will be a symbol for any other club thinking of going up against us. We are the rulers here! Prepare for battle, men. At dawn, we raid the Kings’ clubhouse!”

She’s silent as the room empties slowly, everyone who walks past Killian giving him some form of further physical punishment as they make their way out the door. Soon, it’s just Robin who remains, staring angrily at Killian, and Neal by her side.

“Ems,” Neal says darkly, and her blood runs cold in sudden fear. She’s been so consumed with worry and anger for Killian that she hasn’t even considered the repercussions from Neal at them being discovered.

She turns to face him nervously, her fingers shaking as she grips the arms of the chair. “Yeah?” she nearly whispers.

He gives her a soft, if not terrifying smile that she thinks is an attempt at being comforting. “I forgive you.”

Her brows raise on her head, almost meeting her hairline, and she asks, “You… what?”

“I know this bastard manipulated you. I know you’re not… Well, I know you're naive and desperate for attention wherever you can get it. Hook trying to seduce you isn’t your fault. I forgive you.”

She nods weakly, feeling as though she's in a trance. In a moment of clarity and brilliance, she decides to go along with his thoughts and says, “Can I have a minute with him? I need to look into the eyes of the man who… who tried to hurt us.” She chooses her words carefully, saying exactly what she knows will coerce him into giving her what she truly wants.

“I don’t know, baby,” he shakes his head, taking her hand and roughly dragging it towards his mouth. “That’s not your brightest idea.”

“Robin’s here,” she reasons. “Look at him-- he’s just as mad as we are that his friend betrayed our family. He’ll keep me safe.”

He gives her another leering smile that she’s sure he thinks is sweet and winks. “I guess you’re not so useless up here after all,” he concedes, tapping his finger against her temple. She forces herself not to flinch away. “Rob,” he barks as he stands, “keep her safe from this asshole.”

“‘Course, mate,” Robin answers, taking Neal’s hand and shaking it. “I’ll watch him like a hawk.”

Neal is out the door in an instant, not bothering to say anything more to Emma in favor of shoving against Killian’s shoulder on his way out.

She's still for a moment, taking in the grievous sight of him and barely able to move. It takes her just a second after he lets his eyes fall shut and a weak breath fall from his lips to hurry to him and take his hands. “Killian,” she pleads in a whisper.

His brows screw together in pain and she pulls back, but his grip on her hand tightens. “I’m sorry,” he struggles.

“No,” she cries, pressing her lips firmly to the top of his hand, the one part of him that hasn’t been battered violently. “Don’t say that, baby. It’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I didn’t mean it.” He opens his eyes, or tries to, one of them almost completely swollen shut. She’s met with his genuineness, and it breaks her heart.

“I know that,” she promises. “You didn’t have to take all of this punishment just to keep me safe.”

“They’ll never hurt you,” he vows, and it’s like he's promising himself, too. She stands, bending at her knees so that she can look at him head on. His bottom lip is swollen and bloody, but she plants a kiss there anyway.

“I love you,” she tells him seriously. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t respond-- she doesn’t think he can-- but she does feel him squeezing her hand once more and bumping his likely broken nose against hers.

This is her fault. He wouldn’t be here if not for her. If not for her making stupid mistakes and getting caught up in ridiculously dangerous situations, she wouldn’t be here and he would be okay. He wouldn’t be bleeding and bruised and have cracked ribs, and she wouldn’t be worried about his lungs being punctured or his skull being fractured. She would be alone, she would be lost without ever knowing him, but at least he would be okay.

“We have to get him out,” she says to Rob after a few moments of thick and desperate silence. “He needs help; he needs a doctor.”

“I know,” he nods in agreement.

“No,” Killian begs weakly. “Just go. Leave me, please. Don’t risk getting caught--” he cuts himself off, gasping in pain as he tries to move in his chair. “Please.”

“Killian, no offense, but shut up,” Robin says. “We’re all planning to flee. There’s not a chance in hell we let you die while we walk free.”

“Right,” Emma breathes, relieved to hear that his friend feels the same as she does. “It’s almost dark. Do you think anyone will be here much longer? Can we sneak him out?”

“Rob,” he practically whimpers, letting his head drop back as his breath catches against the pain in his throat. “Please. Don’t put her in any more danger. Please.”

The room falls silent again as Robin considers his friend’s pleas, looking between the two of them pensively. Honestly, she doesn't care how it’s done. She just needs to make sure that Killian is out of here and away from danger as soon as possible so that they can follow through with their plan.

“Alright,” Robin concedes. “Emma, you should go back with Neal. We still don’t want to tip anyone off to our plans. I’ll get him out since I’m supposed to be keeping watch anyway. But at that point, we’ll both be wanted by the club. Round up Tink and Elsa and meet us. You talked to them both, right?” he asks Killian.

He shakes his head. “You have to check on Elsa first,” he insists. “Leave me and make sure she’s alright. She told them--” He gasps again, and Emma rubs her thumbs over the tops of his hands. When he looks into her eyes, he says, “She’s how they found out.”

“What-- she what?”

Emma’s dumbfounded, shaking her head in thought, unable to wrap her mind around the betrayal. It isn’t until her conversation with Tink makes itself known in her memory that she realizes what she meant.

Elsa’s loyalty lies with her family.

“Emma, please, check on her. They probably tortured it out of her.”

She nods, if only so that she doesn’t cause him any further distress as she figures out the truth. There isn’t much about this lifestyle that makes sense to her, but one thing that seems abundantly clear is the fact that Elsa has never been as loyal to her brother-in-law as he has to her. Emma doubts very much that Elsa was tortured at all, much more likely to have given up the information freely.

“I will,” she promises, kissing the top of his left hand. “I’ll meet you soon. I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispers, letting his eyes fall shut.

When she stands, she makes anxious eye contact with Robin and says, “Get him out of here. He needs to see a doctor.”

“I will. Grab Tink and Elsa and meet me at the docks when you can. I’ll wait a few hours before I start looking for you.”

She nods, making her way towards the door and making a silent vow to herself. She’ll grab Tink, and she’ll prove her own hunch about what Elsa has done to Killian.

~~~~

Robin has just gotten to the docks, tucking his friend away safely on the boat they’ve pilfered, when he hears the footsteps. He got Killian to the bed, cleaned his wounds-- although he didn’t look much better when he was done with him-- and gave him some rum to help him sleep before he heard someone rustling above deck. Only it’s too soon for Emma to be back. As he steps out of the cabin, he sees a shadowy figure on the dock.

“You,” the figure calls, making their way towards their stolen boat. Robin nervously reaches for his gun and points it at the shadow. They reach for something as well, holding it up before themselves, and Robin cocks his gun in response.

“I’m armed,” he warns.

“FBI.”

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @hookedmom @pirateprincessofpizza

#Watch the Sunlight Fade #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #sunlight ff #captain swan au #killian jones #whump #killian jones whump #captain swan angst #once upon a time #ouat ff

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walviemort · 3 years

Text

Fairy Godfather, part 2

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! This is kind of consuming me so you’ll be getting these pretty often, I hope! thanks to @sancocnutclub for all her encouragement ;)

rated T / 2.2k words / part 1 / AO3

He didn’t wake until mid morning the next day, and was still fairly fatigued, but otherwise felt alright—just a bit tender about the middle.

A shower helped dissolve most of the lingering soreness, and he took some time in front of the mirror to look for any changes.

Given that his stomach had never returned to its previous hardened state, it was hard to notice any discernible change in shape, but when he poked around, there was definitely a rounded area that hadn’t been there before.

He also took a moment to memorize his body as it was; it wouldn’t be long before the babes made their presence visibly known, and the changes that happened while pregnant with Hope were still fresh in his mind. He was both glad that Belle was keeping track of his stats, and already dreading it.

But she was probably waiting for him, so he needed to get a move on—and something to eat; he was starting to feel peckish, but couldn’t tell whether or not it was more than usual.

His normal jeans still fit comfortably, albeit a hair snug. It wouldn’t last long, but he’d relish it while it did. At least his shirts would last longer; he’d found a new appreciation for the forgiving cotton knits of this realm in his second trimester.

Emma was already at the station when he got downstairs, but she’d left behind plenty of pancakes, and he ate a few more than normal; he wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

Before heading to the library, he went to pick up Hope from her sleepover with her grandparents. David greeted him at the door, with tiny Ruth asleep on his chest.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, hardly able to keep his eyes away from Killian’s midsection.

“Fine, as far as I could tell. Weird, but fine.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No, thankfully, but I’m sure there will be plenty of aches and pains later.”

David winced. “Man, am I glad they asked you and not me. This one was enough,” he said, patting Ruth’s back gently.

“I don’t disagree, but…”

“But you feel like you owe them,” David finished.

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’ll be the other way around by the end of this, but we’ll help you out as much as we can.”

“I appreciate it—and I’m sure we’ll need it with this one,” he replied, nodding at Hope, who was attempting to escape out a window.

She was easily wrangled, though, and happy to see him. He had no idea what fairy infants were like, but if they were half as charming as his daughter (who definitely took after her grandfather), this whole town would revolve around them.

As he thought, Belle was waiting for him, tape measure in hand. “Seriously?” he griped as he set Hope down next to Gideon in the playpen behind the circulation desk.

“You can’t possibly be surprised,” she threw back. “But if it’s any consolation, I won’t do it again until next week.”

“You only did it monthly last time around.”

“You were only carrying one babe.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

Though his waist measurement remained unchanged, his weight was slightly higher (more than could be expected by a few extra pancakes). “I can feel it,” he confirmed when she asked. “There’s definitely something in there, though I only notice it if I go looking for it.”

Belle made a note and then flipped back and forth between some pages. “That matches up with when you found out you were expecting Hope; so do your measurements, and that was, what 8 weeks?”

“Yeah, thereabouts.”

“Second pregnancies do show sooner, too.”

“Especially this one,” he grumbled.

“Oh yeah,” she agreed.

The day continued normally, although his hand did gravitate to his stomach pretty often, without thinking about it. Even if it wasn’t noticeable, he still knew what was there, and his subconscious seemed to have already set out to protect it—that, or his hormones were already starting to affect him.

Based on his reaction when Emma arrived that afternoon—particularly to his train of thought when she bent down to pick up a napping Hope—it was definitely hormones. His jeans felt a very different kind of tight then; something he acted on later that night, after a slightly larger than usual dinner.

“Those hormones kicked in fast,” a sated Emma breathed as they came down from their shared high. “You haven’t been that voracious since we found out we were having a girl.”

“Are you complaining?” he panted.

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.” And they went for another round.

In fact, he was so insatiable the next couple of weeks that, despite his elevated appetite, no other discernible change in his weight was noticed; his waist actually went down a bit.

“Are you feeling alright? Keeping food down and everything?” Belle asked, worried, as she recorded his 2-week measurements, comparing them to his 10-week from his first pregnancy. “Last time, you couldn’t eat more than chicken rice about now.”

“Trust me—I feel more than fine,” he assured her. “Were it not for Emma’s implanted contraception, we’d likely need to be planning for a more traditional pregnancy.”

“That’s a very eloquent way of saying you can’t keep your hands off your wife.”

“I could have phrased it crudely—how many synonyms for ‘sex’ did you want Gideon to learn today?”

“None!” she exclaimed, covering her son’s impressionable ears. He was at the age when he repeated anything said around him—a fact they noticed when Gideon’s favorite phrase became “bloody hell.”

“What are uncles for, though?” he teased with a wink.

Belle just groaned and threatened to teach Hope how to read with romance novels. Killian, however, was just glad she slept through the night so she didn’t interrupt the real thing.

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

Where there had been some hubbub about town during Killian’s first pregnancy—and quite a lot of gawking—no one seemed as shocked this time around. They’d made no effort to keep it a secret, letting the Storybrooke rumor mill do its job, but either the town was more aware than Killian had been about fairy reproduction, or they had become jaded to such magical oddities (he assumed the latter).

That said—he had to assume the gawking would eventually return.

Especially with the way Granny was feeding him. To be fair, she wasn’t letting him overindulge, but he’d noticed his portions were larger, and the amount of vegetables increased. He wondered if Blue had given her some nutritional instruction, or if it was just her innate grandmotherly instincts.

The first time she slid an extra helping of broccoli over, he tried to protest, delicious as it looked.

“Oh no—eat up, young man,” she commanded. “If my math is right, you’re eating for 10. I should probably be feeding you more, actually.”

Emma snickered next to him—they were on lunch break from the station—but he wasn’t sure if it was at Granny’s tutting or the fact that Killian had just realized the magnitude of…well, all of it.

So when Granny slid some extra onion rings across the counter, he didn’t complain (but obviously shared them with his wife).

He wanted to blame it on those extra treats—onion rings, fries, pie, muffins—when they noticed an expansion in his waist measurement at 3 weeks, but it was definitely the babes; he could still wear his normal jeans, but was seeing some rounding behind his navel.

And at 4 weeks—a month since the babes were transferred—it could finally be deemed a bump: there was a gentle curve to his whole stomach, from just under his pecs to his hips (which had been aching a bit as they widened some, likely in anticipation of the heavy load to come). Given the way he and Emma’s evening activities hadn’t slowed, he knew it was all the babies.

Belle hummed as she compared the notes she’d just taken with those from last time. “Well, that’s interesting,” she commented.

“What is?” Emma asked; she’d joined them for that week’s check in, curious to see where things were.

“This week’s measurements match up with those from the end of the first trimester last time, which I suppose isn’t a huge surprise, but…”

“But I have a lot more to go than two trimesters,” he finished.

All eyes were on his stomach for a long while after that, likely all wondering the same thing: just how large would he get?

The only thing that took their attention away was the ringing of the bell over the door as someone arrived—Blue, it turned out. “Hi,” she greeted, clearly trying to be casual. “Just wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”

He wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d stay away from him for the duration of the pregnancy, although he had expected more subtle surveillance.

They chatted briefly about how he was feeling, and she studied his stomach with an outstretched hand, he assumed to do her own magical assessment. “Yes, they seem to be doing quite well; that’s good.”

“Did you think they weren’t?” Emma quipped.

“No, of course not,” Blue assured her. “Would it be odd to express my excitement?”

Well, they all understood that. “How long has it been since your last brood?” Belle had to ask.

“Over fifty years,” Blue answered. “They’re usually every five to ten, depending on the solstice.”

“And when you don’t have a series of curses in the way,” Emma added.

Blue glanced over Belle’s notes with interest. “That does seem to match up with past broods, though I don’t think anyone ever thought to take such detailed notes.”

“Are there any?” Belle asked. “I don’t have anything here, but if you had some back at the convent, it’d be great for comparison.”

“I’d have to check our library,” Blue answered. “There might be a few scrolls, but we’re not much for recorded history.”

“I can tell,” Belle complained.

After some more chatting, Blue excused herself, but did ask if it was alright if she checked in periodically.

“Of course,” Killian said. “It’s your brood. Plus, I’m certain we’ll need to take you up on the offer of help sooner rather than later, if this is where I’m already at after only 4 weeks,” he added, gesturing to his still-small bump.

“Absolutely,” Blue said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled her wand out of nowhere and twirled it at Killian’s midsection. His skin grew warm for a moment, but then returned to normal. “I’m not sure if the original spell will account for the size, as far as how it treats your skin; that should eliminate any damage.”

“No stretch marks?” he wondered.

“No—not any new ones, at least.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

She then left as quickly as she appeared.

“Guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to,” he sighed, and then they went about their day. But he was starting to grow very concerned about what lay ahead for him; he knew this wouldn’t be a small feat, but was worried it would be more than he could handle.

As time progressed, his bump steadily grew, though not unnaturally so. At 5 weeks, it was yet more noticeable; at 6, he finally had to concede defeat and dig out his maternity jeans, though they were still plenty roomy. By the end of the second month, he wasn’t quite where he’d been at the end of his second trimester, but it was definitely a baby bump—roughly where he’d been around 24 weeks with Hope, even though he was only at 8 with this one.

It was around then, though, that he noticed the first flutterings inside. He thought he’d noticed it the week before, but chalked it up to gas or something like that; Granny had been feeding him a lot of black beans lately. But late one night, after yet another glorious session of lovemaking, Emma’s hand had drifted to his belly and even she took notice.

“Wow, they’re actually starting to move in there, huh?”

“Seems like it. You don’t suppose they actually have wings already, do they?”

“Normal babies hardly have limbs at this stage, so probably not.”

They lay peacefully in the afterglow for a bit, before he asked quietly, “You are okay with this, right?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d ask, nor was it likely to be the last. But it was a large undertaking and though she hadn’t exactly protested, he knew it wasn’t something she’d have volunteered for.

“For the hundredth time, yes. Even if this was partly fueled by guilt, I know you probably would have agreed anyway, and that big heart is why I love you so much. And can I say something else?”

“What’s that, love?”

“I was so attracted to you with that baby bump last time, even when you thought you were massive. So as long as your libido holds out, I think we’re both going to be very happy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, I think I might need some convincing.”

“Then let me show you.” And oh, she did.

Gods, he prayed he’d be able to do that for a while. The next several months were going to be very interesting.

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thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @88infinity88 (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian mpreg #fairy godfather #my ff

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