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rollinouttahere-writes · 6 months

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platonic yandere shanks and child reader

Better Left Unsaid

Yandere Shanks x GN Child Reader

3k words

“Don’t.”

With one leg still thrown over the side of the ship, you whip around and glare at Yassop. You dropped your head onto the railing and groaned, “Come on! I won’t even leave the docks, please!”

Yassop looked up from the gun that he was polishing, shooting you a weary look, “You know the rules, kid.”

“The rules are stupid!”

“Take that up with Shanks if you think so,” he replied in a bored tone.

You give out the most exasperated sigh and hop down from the railing with a huff. The boards creaked under the impact, more so after you began stomping across the deck. Both of you knew full well that talking to Shanks would get you nowhere. He’s the captain and your dad, he isn’t about to take orders from you.

Using more force than probably necessary, you open and slam the door to the captain’s quarters. It doubled as your bedroom, too. That was fine when you were little, but now you wanted your own space. Every time you tried to tell him this, you would just get waved off and told there was no room. It was either his room or bunking with all the other guys, so you begrudgingly accepted your fate of staying where you were. At least he put up a curtain to give you a little privacy.

After flopping onto your bed, you screamed into your pillow at the top of your lungs while kicking your feet on the bed. This was so unfair!

All you wanted was to leave the damn ship on a populated island. The only times you ever got to set foot on solid land was if they stopped at an uninhabited island, but that wasn’t enough for you anymore. You wanted to see people that weren’t your family, see sights that you don’t usually get to see, and pick out your own damn clothes for once! Was that really so much to ask for?!

Violently, you flipped onto your back and scowled at the ceiling, clutching your screamed-in pillow to your chest.

This was all so frustrating, but you didn’t know how to fix it. Talking to your dad was pointless, he never listened to you when you were complaining. The crew was just as bad, they treated you like a baby. But they were all you had. Shanks didn’t let you see, much less talk, to anyone else.

What you needed was leverage. You needed something that would give you enough of an upperhand to get him to listen to you. In essence, you needed blackmail, and you were in the perfect place to find some.

You grinned maliciously as you sprung out of your bed and marched over to his side of the room. Surely there had to be something in here that would give you some dirt on him! You aren’t sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure you’ll know it when you see it.

First was the bed. You lifted up the mattress to peek under and see if anything was hidden underneath. Nothing.

Next was the bedside table. You opened all of the drawers one by one. While you did find some stuff, it wasn’t anything useful. Some old maps, pens, notebooks with nothing interesting in them, a mostly empty booze bottle. Nothing scandalous enough to get a leg over on him.

There was a clothes dresser, too. At first you hesitated. No one wants to risk seeing their dad’s underwear, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Pulling open the first drawer, you found a bunch of shirts haphazardly shoved into it. None of them were folded, and it looks like he filled this thing up blindfolded and under intense pressure. No wonder his clothes are so wrinkled. It was a bit of a struggle to close when you were done rifling through it due to how jam-packed it was. Part of a shirt was sticking out after you finally slammed it shut, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. It’s not like you were going to make it look any worse.

The next drawer was similar to the first in terms of how messy it was, but this time with pants. It’s no longer a mystery as to why he perpetually looks like he just rolled out of bed. Whatever, his unfortunate state of fashion is of no real concern to you.

As you dug through the mess of pants, your fingers made contact with something solid. You froze briefly but quickly snapped out of it and grabbed whatever it was you touched. It took a bit of effort, but you freed the object from its tangled up prison. It was a small box. With a lock on it.

Perfect!

This had to be it! If he cared enough to lock it up, then there must be something top secret in here! Giddily, you scurried back to your bed with your findings, not even bothering to kick the dresser shut. You were going to be confronting him with this anyways, no need to be secretive about it.

The box was tossed onto your bed while you dug through your own bedside table, looking for your lockpicking kit. Shanks was about to regret teaching you how to do that.

You threw the kit next to the box and hopped on the bed. The lock was tiny and appeared to be uncomplicated, you’re betting you’ll have it open in under a minute. Grabbing your slimmest hook, you jammed it into the keyhole.

It unlocked instantly. Damn, you might have to make fun of your dad for using such a useless lock.

The lock was discarded and you opened the box. It was full of pieces of paper and photographs. Interesting. You pick up the first photo you see. It’s facing down, the back of it says ‘Uta - 2’. You flip it over, curious to see what that note on the back means.

It’s a picture of your dad when he was much younger, but that wasn’t what stuck out to you. What really caught your eye was the little girl he was holding. She was very young, and her hair was split down the middle with one side being white and the other red. Both of them were grinning from ear to ear. You can’t remember ever seeing your dad look that happy.

You look at the note again. ‘Uta - 2’. The girl looked to be about two years old, so that was probably her age. Was Uta her name? That made sense.

But who is she?

No one has ever mentioned someone named Uta being on board. As far as you were aware, you were the only child that’s ever been with them. Maybe this picture was taken before Shanks became a pirate? No, wait, it can’t be that either. He’s never not been a part of a pirate crew.

You need more information. Setting the picture aside, you start pulling more stuff out of the box. There’s some sheet music. The handwriting is somewhat neat, but also big and exaggerated with more loops than necessary and hearts dotting the i’s. Like it was written by a child. On the bottom, the name Uta was signed in large cursive letters.

Another photo is taken out, Shanks isn’t in it, but Uta and other members of his crew are. Uta is standing on a box like some sort of a makeshift stage, and appears to be singing if you had to guess. The others were clapping and cheering her on. This was definitely taken a while ago. Benn’s hair hadn’t even turned gray yet. The back of it said ‘Uta - 5’.

The next picture once again has Uta in it. She’s sitting next to a little boy with black hair and a scar under his eye.

Why does your dad have so many pictures of some girl you’ve never even heard of? This definitely feels like a secret, but you’re so confused about what you’re finding that you can’t bring yourself to feel like this is really a victory for you. You need to dig deeper.

Once again, you reach for another photo, one with three people in it this time. You instantly recognize Shanks and Uta, who you don’t know is the seemingly newborn baby in Shanks’ arms. His expression is nothing but soft and adoring, while Uta’s is a combination of curious but excited.

How many damn kids has your dad taken in and proceeded to just never mention ever?!

You flip over the picture to figure out who this one is supposed to be, but freeze up when you read it.

‘(Y/N) - Just got here!’

That’s… you? You and Uta were here at the same time, but you’re just now finding out about her? What the hell is going on?

Frantically, you unceremoniously dump out the rest of the contents of the box. You’re desperate to find answers, anything that could explain why your dad has this top secret box dedicated to whoever this Uta girl is.

A picture that stands out to you is one of Uta helping the baby- you- stand. You’re a little older here, roughly a year old it would seem. A quick glance at the back confirms your guess as correct, and that Uta is seven. She’s six years older than you. Since you no longer have the squished face of a baby just welcomed into the world, your features are actually recognizable. This is definitely you and not just some other kid named (Y/N).

The mystery unraveling in front of you is so engrossing that you’re deaf to the world around you. That is, until the door to the room is thrown open. Your heart leaps into your throat. Oh shit! Why is he back so soon?! You scramble to quickly but quietly pile your findings back into their box.

“(Y/N), I got you something in-” Shanks voice falls flat and stops abruptly in the middle of the sentence. No, no, no! How does he know something is wrong already?!

You didn’t close the dresser.

Before you can even begin to think of what to do next, Shanks drops whatever he was holding and closes the distance between you two and rips the curtain to the side. All you can do is shrink in on yourself and gawk at his furious expression.

The second his eyes land on the box in your hands, he snatches it into his own. He stomps away and slams it onto the dresser while hastily rifling through it. He hasn’t said a damn thing to you since the realization of what you did.

Damage control, you need to do damage control, and fast. You move to stand, and utter out a quiet, “Dad?”

“Sit. Down,” his tone was sharp and left zero room for argument. He’s never spoken to you so coldly, even during your worst arguments.

All you wanted was to have a chance to explore the town, and now look where that has gotten you. This was a stupid mistake. Shanks and his crew were all you had, and now you’ve made a huge problem of yourself. What would happen to you if he decided you weren’t worth the hassle anymore?

You couldn’t help it. Between all the previous confusion mixed with his harsh treatment broke the dam and tears started to pour down your face. You sniffle loudly while furiously wiping at your face, and force out, “I-I’m sorry.”

With your head being in your hands, and your eyes clouded with tears, you have no hope of being able to gauge his reaction. Or see if he even cares enough to pay you any mind. Probably not, not when he’s this mad at you.

Your bed dips from the weight of Shanks sitting down next to you. Without hesitation, you latch onto him, burying your face in his coat while sobbing out apologies. Anything to make him stop being so upset with you. Much to your relief, his arm came around your back and held you to him.

“It’s… fine. I wish you wouldn’t have done that, but it’s nothing to cry about,” his voice was strained, but held the warmth that had been previously absent.

Even with that, you needed time to calm down. While your dad being annoyed with your attitude was hardly a new occurrence, him being genuinely upset was. Frankly, you didn’t know how to deal with this, and you were still terrified about how much damage your actions just did.

Shanks didn’t say anything else, instead choosing to sit in silence with you. You couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse. Actually, you could decide. The lack of words was absolutely worse, but you didn’t know what to say right now either.

“Yassop told me you tried to sneak off the ship. Again.”

Nevermind. You wish to go back to silence. All you did in response was bury your face deeper into his coat while mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ for your actions. You were going to dump out that snitch’s booze stash later.

His chest heaved with the sigh he let out, and his hand came up to pat your head, “I know that you don’t like this, I understand that, but sometimes you have to do things you don’t like.” There was a pause, but when you didn’t respond, he continued, “It’s for your own good. The world is a dangerous place.”

“But… But you’re an emperor. You’re the Red Haired Shanks. What’s the worst that could happen if we just go for a walk in town?” As far as you’re concerned, there’s no threat that your dad can’t handle, not to mention the rest of his crew. Even if someone is stupid enough to try something, they’ll deal with it.

He chuckled, but it was humorless, empty, “Just because I’m an emperor doesn’t mean that bad things won’t still happen. That bad things haven’t already happened.”

“Where is Uta?”

Bringing her up was risky, you knew that, but you need answers. You need to get to the bottom of why Shanks is like this, and this is the closest you feel that you’ve ever come to finding out.

Shanks became rigid at the mention of her name. The hand on your head was now squeezing, bordering on painful from how tight it was. You tried to wiggle away but couldn’t break his hold.

“She’s gone.”

“She died?!” While you didn’t know what to expect, it certainly wasn’t that.

“No!” Shanks' hand dropped down onto your shoulder and wrenched you away from him. His eyes were wide and wild, “She’s not dead!”

You visibly recoiled from him, you can’t remember a time you’ve ever heard him yell. Once again, you can feel your eyes start to water and your lip tremble. God, what you wouldn’t give for this whole interaction to just be over already. Or for it to have simply never happened in the first place.

His face fell, and he looked away from you with a grimace. Mercifully, his grip had relaxed a bit and no longer felt like a vice on you. “Uta is alive and well, she just isn’t here. Not anymore.”

“Why not? Where is she?” You had more questions with every answer he gave, this wasn’t making any sense. What could have happened to result in her not being here? He wouldn’t just… abandon her. Would he?

“Because I wasn’t able to protect her,” his voice was so quiet that if you were any further away from him you wouldn’t have heard him. “She needed to be left in someone else’s care for her own good. I wasn’t able to keep her safe, and that’s something that I will never let happen again. Not with you.”

“But what happened? I don’t understand,” you felt like you were simultaneously getting closer and also further from the truth. Nothing about this was making sense. There was a bigger story here, but he was seemingly hellbent on keeping his answers to you vague.

“You don’t need to understand, you’re just a child. Do both of us a favor and forget about what you saw and what’s been said,” Shanks got to his feet, moving to leave not only the conversation, but also the room entirely.

You launched yourself off the bed and grabbed onto his arm, “Wait! You can’t just tell me to forget about this! I want answers!” You weren’t about to let him get out of this discussion so easily.

“Well, (Y/N), sometimes you don’t always get what you want. We’re done talking about this,” the way he spoke to you was slightly condescending. He turned to face you and crouched down to be at eye level, “How about you take a nap? Seems like you need one.”

You were getting on his nerves, that was a given, but you couldn’t up and let this go. Scoffing, you crossed your arms and glared at him, “I don’t need a nap, I’m not a baby.”

Shanks smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “Could’ve fooled me with the way you’re acting today.”

As much as you wanted to yell and be mad about what he just said, your mind went blank. You felt dizzy and like you couldn’t remember how to control your body. A second later, you stumbled and crashed into Shanks who caught you with ease.

Haki. He used Haki on you.

Distantly, you registered being lifted off the ground. Your head was pounding and felt like it was packed with cotton to the point of bursting. A few steps later, you were dropped on a bed. You’re so out of it that you can’t even tell if it’s yours or his.

An attempt was made to say something, anything, but your tongue refused to cooperate. All you could do was stare up at the blurring form of Shanks helplessly, wondering why he would go to such an extreme over you asking a few questions.

The last thing you remember is a blanket being pulled over you before everything fades to black as you’re forcibly thrown into a restless sleep.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #platonic yandere #shanks #red haired shanks #yassop #yanderefangirl

369 notes · View notes

sluttywoozi · 11 months

Text

Code Of (Mis)Conduct | kmg x f!reader feat. Choi San of Ateez

Playlist: Yes Man - P1Harmony | Addicted - Monsta X | Need to Know - ELHAE & IM | I Don't Understand But I Luv U - Seventeen PU | Leave The Door Open - Ateez Cover

Summary: You're just trying to keep your head down and your coworkers out of your business but that's not exactly easy when your cubicle sits between Choi San's and Kim Mingyu's.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~10k

Warnings: not a threesome, food and alcohol, sorry i made san kind of a dick i know he's a kind sweet boy, grinding, size kink, spanking, oral m rec., spit kink, hair pulling, marking, fingering, unprotected sex

Reader Notes: written as a commission so some details are not as inclusive as i normally try to be, tsundere, use of girlfriend but no she/her, has vagina and breasts, physically smaller than gyu, marks show on skin

A head pops over your cuticle, floppy black hair appearing before sweet eyes and a nose with the cutest freckle. Mingyu has been in the square next to yours for the better part of the year, a transfer from the Camden branch and a cutie to boot, though he is endearingly clumsy. He’s fallen off his chair trying to grab a lost pen four times just this month, and anytime you hear a crash to the right of you, you know exactly who the culprit is. He also likes to ‘bother’ you occasionally, though occasionally is starting to become something like every single day.

He doesn’t actually bother you, but he does distract you. Case in point, the conversation he’s trying to draw you into, one you actually have the time to afford for once. He’s curious about what you do in your free time and you could just tell him, but you’ve made it thus far without anyone in this office knowing personal details about you besides the visible ones. You’re not sure you’re willing to give up that anonymity, especially because Mingyu so quickly became the golden boy of the bullpen. If you start giving in to him, other people in the office will think they can talk to you, and it’s already hard enough having Mingyu and the only other person you tolerate know things about you.

The other person you tolerate is Choi San, and tolerate is quite the generous word. Unlike Mingyu who thinks he’s bothering you but isn’t, San thinks he’s not annoying you at all but is actually unbearable. You deal with him because he always knows where to find the good creamer and because he’s ridiculously attractive and you could use some eye candy on your left side too.

Yes, San’s cubicle sits to the left of yours. You’re in a San-Mingyu sandwich, and not the kind you’d like. No, this kind includes conversations and teasing and insults that they both think are jokes, which would be fine, even pleasant, anywhere else. Unfortunately for all three of you, you’re at work, and work you has patience for exactly 1.5 people.

You give Mingyu the patience a whole person deserves because he’s cute and sweet and brings you home-baked goods. You give San the patience of half a person because he’s a menace who deserves nothing more and nothing less.

Maybe I’m being too hard on him…

You jump as San rises to rest his folded arms on your shared cubicle wall, his stupid hot face twisted in a smirk and his gaze half-lidded in what you can only assume are his bedroom eyes. You won’t lie, he definitely makes you… feel things, but you don’t have the emotional bandwidth or will to engage with him like he wants. You’re pretty sure that’s only making him try harder though, so you go for a change of pace and give in, turning to San with an expectant look and waiting for him to speak.

You catch Mingyu’s face falling in the corner of your eye and wince as he sinks back down to hide behind his wall. Fuck, you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. You’ll have to ask him what he’s doing this weekend to make up for it, and if that’s not enough, you’ll tell him what your plans are too.

You watch San’s smirk widen when he sees Mingyu shrink, frowning and furrow your brows in distaste before swivelling back to face your computer screen. You mindlessly click and type away at your little excel spreadsheet, ignoring San’s attempts to get you to respond to him.

You’re officially out of patience for him for the day, and it’s only 11:37 AM.

You’re going to have to corner Mingyu at the water dispenser. He hasn’t poked his head over in hours and it’s nearly time to pack it in, making you fear you’ve actually pushed him away for good this time. It seems like something so small, ignoring him to answer San, but you suppose with how San is always goading him over their sales records, Mingyu is a little sensitive when it comes to him. You’re not the type of person to apologise and you’re absolutely not the type of person to embarrass yourself by peeking over his wall, but you will try to make it up to him.

He’s bent over comically far to fill his water cup, a beastly thing with times and encouragements printed on the side, and you know you shouldn’t spook him but you just can’t resist.

“Mingyu.”

He jumps, water shooting out over the mouth of his open jug as he turns with confusing speed to face you.

“Y/n! W-What’s up?” You can tell he’s trying to act cool, but his stutter and reddening cheeks give him away and you just know you’ve caught him off guard enough by approaching him that you might not even have to ask him about his weekend at all. You do anyway, for some reason.

“Oh! My weekend… Um, just working out and taking Millie to the big park across town. She likes that one a lot better and her girlfriend should be there, so,” He cuts himself off, biting his lips between his teeth and clenching his eyes shut as if he’s embarrassed.

“That sounds nice. I hope Millie’s girlfriend is there. And that they have a nice time. And you too, I guess,” you sound stilted as hell but you’re positive this is the longest combination of words you’ve ever said to him, so he should be happy with what he’s getting.

And of course, he is. Blisteringly happy, in fact, his beam taking up the whole of his face and his entire body curling closer to you. Wow. Mingyu is kind of like, obsessed with you. Shockingly enough, you don’t mind. It means you don’t have to look up as much to slightly avoid his eye contact, and there’s the baked goods too. He always claims he just needs a tester, but you know he has a truly wild amount of friends that could try his creations, so why is he giving them to you? In good tupperware? The glass kind.

You were in your own head while Mingyu was realising he hadn’t responded to you, and you both look to each other at the same time in alarm. You can’t slightly avoid his eye contact now, not when his face looks like it does and he’s ten centimetres shorter than normal. You’re reminded why you don’t gaze straight into his eyes, and it’s because this always happens. Your dumb, traitorous body reacts to having his full focus on you. It would be one thing if it was just sexual, but it’s your heart too. The mutinous muscle flutters, just like the mosquitos in your stomach do, and, like always, you refuse to think a single thought about what it all means.

“Well. Bye,” you turn on your heel and speed back to your cubicle, pointedly ignoring the doe eyes boring into your back and further ignoring San’s petulant stare. He undoubtedly watched the whole exchange, must have seen Mingyu melt into you and the way you didn’t flinch away, but you don’t care. He’s been ragging on Mingyu too much lately, and someone needs to put him in his place. If that person needs to be you, so be it. It might even mean you get to talk to him less.

Thank fucking God.

So far, it doesn’t look like you’ll be talking to San any less. Then again, neither will you be talking to Mingyu any less, considering that all three of you have just been put together for a group project. You thought you’d left those behind in uni but here you are, stuck in between two men who won’t stop glaring at each other long enough to actually listen to what the assignment is. You shake your head, knowing that this will likely go exactly like group projects of years passed and you’ll be carrying the team. However, that can only happen if you let it, and you’ve grown a backbone since then. It’s rather spiky too, you’ve found, so if either of them have a problem with putting aside their issues and working together, you’re confident in your ability to… persuade them.

For now, you’ll let them continue to completely ignore your boss. It makes you look better and you get to be the one in charge of allocating work because you’re the only one who understands what exactly the work is, so it’s a win-win. You stand, thanking your director with a handshake and a smile that turns smug as soon as she leaves before you round on the two men beside you.

“So. Would either of you like to tell me what this project is about?” You ask, watching as the competitiveness drains from their faces and dread replaces it. They shake their heads, nearly bowing them in shame while they wait for you to grant them the knowledge. You could make them suffer for it but you’ll ensure having you as their lead will be enough pain for a lifetime, if they don’t cooperate.

“We’re tracking how the beta for the new product is selling - there’s two versions with pretty significant differences. Mingyu, you’re selling one, San, you’re selling the other. I’m doing the analysis and we’re all working to put together a portfolio and presentation that the board won’t fire us over. Don’t forget about the ‘we’re all working together’ part.”

“You didn’t say, ‘we’re all working together,’ you said, ‘we’re all working to put together,” San provides rather unhelpfully, making you roll your eyes hard enough it almost hurts before you decide you’ve spent long enough away from your cubicle. You walk away from them both, Mingyu scampering after to tell you about Millie’s date with her girlfriend, Asher, and San watching with narrowed eyes as you tilt your head just enough to show you’re listening.

“Okay, Mingyu, how many models of Beta One have you sold?” You jot down the number as he calls it out from his cube.

“And San? Beta Two?” You ask absentmindedly, pen spinning in your hand.

“Why do you always ask him first?” San groans, his deep voice managing to still sound annoyingly manly even as he nearly whines.

“Because he’s ready first. Were you ready when I asked? And his name is first alphabetically, too.”

“I thought it was because you like me more,” Mingyu pouts from behind the wall (you can’t see it but you can hear it).

“I do like you more but that’s not why,” you answer, uncaring of San’s gasp and Mingyu’s shock of a giggle.

This project is going to be the death of you.

Mingyu is wearing glasses today. He’s wearing glasses, and his hair is all long and messy, and he has circles under his eyes so he must not have slept well, but his voice is gravelly and rough and you can’t feel bad for revelling in it. Fine, you feel a little bad, especially when you catch him dozing at his desk. So it makes sense for you to make an extra cup of coffee, you were already at the machine and it was just a minute longer. And you have this extra coffee, and you have a neighbour who likes black coffee and seems to be quite exhausted, so why wouldn’t you drop it off on his desk? And while you’re at it, why not gently shake him awake and also try not to let your fingernails dig into his massive deltoid? Why not?

He’s so very grateful, his large hands dwarfing the mug and his cute lips pursed around the edge as he takes a sip, and he explains softly that Millie ate one of his scrunchies and had to have emergency surgery. You’re not sure why he came in at all, but he answers that question before you voice it, saying he doesn’t have any vacation days left so he called his mom to come and take care of her. She won’t be able to make it until later in the afternoon, if at all, and you can tell he’s worried.

It feels beyond foreign to offer, almost wrong, but the words slip out before you can stop them.

“I have a few days saved up. If you want, I could take a half and go… hang out with her.”

Tears flood his eyes immediately and his head drops back to rest against his chair. He hiccups in a breath, his tits heaving with the motion as he does nothing to hide his crying. You see San breeze by in your peripherals, and, sensing he’s about to stop, give a sharp shake of your head and throw a quick glare in his direction. Seeming to understand the threat to his life and limb, he carries on to the lobby to flirt with the receptionist for his break. Your focus returns to Mingyu when he hiccups again, the waterworks slowly drying up.

“You’d do that for me?” He asks brokenly, like you’ve offered him your kidney instead of your afternoon, and you can only respond, “I’d do it for Millie,” before handing him some tissues and going to talk to your supervisor.

Thankfully, she’s an animal lover herself and felt terrible having to deny Mingyu, so it was easy to get the afternoon off. She also mentions her satisfaction with your project progress, though you decide not to tell San and Mingyu lest they get overly comfortable.

You return to your cubicle to find Mingyu on a sales call and the coffee half gone, and, smiling slightly to yourself, go back to translating their numbers into words.

Work flies by as you find yourself oddly excited to leave for the day. It’s not just because you get to skip out on the rest of your work (until tomorrow), you’re also looking forward to seeing Mingyu’s apartment and meeting Millie. You’ve stubbornly not let him show you any pictures of her, though you’ve seen the ones on his desk from afar, and you’re a little nervous she won’t like you. You don’t have a lot of experience with animals, which is why it was so ridiculous of you to offer this, but what’s done is done.

Mingyu looks like a different person when you tidy up your cubicle for the day and pop over to his. The glasses are gone (sadly), his hair isn’t as messy, and his eyes are clearer - all changes pointing to a decrease in stress. So why is his lip bitten so pink? And why is he rearranging his pens?

“My apartment is kind of messy,” he starts, explaining himself before you ask, nibbling at that bottom lip like you suspected he had been.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you furrow your brows and shake your head, sure it can’t be bad enough for you to have anything to fear.

“I bet yours is clean,” Mingyu protests, though you’re not sure why.

“Yeah, it is clean. I like to keep it that way, it makes me feel less stressed,” you shrug, not realising you’ve given up another piece of information until you catch the grin spreading across his face. You hate that he notices when you share things about yourself. You almost wish you could fly a little further under his radar, but you know deep down that if you lost his attention, you’d feel it, like the loss of a friend. Is Mingyu your friend?

Yes, you suppose he is. You wouldn’t do this for someone who wasn’t your friend, you’re sure about that, at least. His smile just deepens, his fingers twitching by his sides like he wants to reach out for you. It’s then that you realise you need something from him.

“Your key, I need your key,” you say quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the stillness surrounding this moment. You hadn’t realised it was a moment but it feels like one, even under these fluorescent lights with San just a cubicle away and likely trying to eavesdrop on your whole conversation. You don’t mind him knowing about this; it might make him chase you a little more, but you’ve gotten better at evading him and, if necessary, glaring him into submission. He still tries to flirt, and you still like it a little, but it’s not the same. Nothing has been the same since this project started two months ago and you had to confront the fact that you really do like Mingyu more than you like San. It’s harder to face both men, San because you honestly feel a little bad, Mingyu because you still don’t want to figure out these feelings and what exactly they mean.

Mingyu holds the key out but you’re too lost in thought to notice. You don’t notice anything until he takes your hand in his and gently folds it around the metal, the touch of his warm, thick fingers sending shockwaves through your system. He’s never really touched you before, just grazed you while handing off confections, and you’re stunned to learn what he does to you. Normally, you don’t like being touched but you dread him letting you go, your entire form tipping closer and closer to him until he slowly drops your hand back to your side and releases you. You stagger back, bumping into the edge of his desk before he grabs your elbow to pull you forward again. You can tell he’s biting back a smile at your unusual moment of clumsiness, and you’re grateful to him for deciding not to mention it. Maybe because you still have his key in your hand and it could act as a weapon. Probably because he knows you so frustratingly well that he’s aware saying anything will make you freeze back up.

You don’t linger in the office, swiftly making your way downstairs and to the Red line. You actually live pretty close to him, you discover, the commute being on half the same lines you usually take home. That’s convenient, a little voice whispers in your head, making you clutch the key tighter and resist the urge to put it on your key ring for safe keeping. You don’t need to think about things like that right now, you need to think about how to approach Millie. Should you let her come to you? Should you let her, like, sniff you first? Should you look away to show respect and submission? Fuck, you don’t have service on the subway and you’re not even sure what kind of dog Millie is anyway, so googling it couldn’t help you now. You suppose you’re fucked, and pray that Mingyu will keep liking you even if his dog doesn’t.

You expect to hear barking as you turn the key in the lock but all that greets you is a massive, golden furball with a cone on her head. She looks so sad and confused, and you’re not really sure how smart dogs are but she seems to know you’re not who she wants. However, she also seems to know you’re not a threat because she’s already licking your hand - gross - and wagging her tail.

“Hi Millie. It's nice to meet you,” You laugh awkwardly and pat her back with robotic movements, “I’m sure you’ve heard about me, your dad is kind of obsessed.”

You may be imagining it but it’s almost like she nods, and you decide to take it and run.

“He is, right? I’m not crazy?” She just stares at you now, and you start to think maybe you are crazy but then you remember you have no one else to talk to about this. You’ve hidden Mingyu from your friends for a multitude of reasons, the largest being that you know you’ll give yourself away as soon as you start talking about him and they see the annoying little steel hearts in your eyes. But Millie… Millie can’t talk. She can’t perceive your feelings about her dad either, and she definitely can’t show up at your workplace to see him for herself like your friends could.

“Millie, what do I do?” You collapse to the floor, uncaring of the golden fur that will inevitably get on your black work slacks, and wrap your arms around her neck. “I like him. I fucking like him. It’s terrible, and I don’t know how to deal with it, or how to talk to him, or if I even should talk to him anymore, but I have to! This stupid project has two more weeks, and even after that, I’ll still be stuck in between them!”

You’re not crying but you could. However, you vowed never to cry over men when you were thirteen and a half and it’s a promise you’ve kept ever since. You really want to though, and you wonder if maybe you could cry about your situation rather than the men (man) you’re actually upset over. That could be a cute little loophole, and just as you start to let the tears fill your eyes, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

It’s him, you already know somehow, and as you check to see a text asking if you’d gotten in okay, you hope you can manage to find peace in the fact that you’re totally into Kim Mingyu.

You’re in love with Millie. There’s no other explanation for how you find yourself on the floor, face to cone with her big ol’ head resting on your outstretched arm. She’s panting happily at you, tongue lolling out to the side and eyes nearly shut. They close a bit more with every pass your nails make over her stomach, and you know it sounds dramatic, but it would make your year if she fell asleep on you.

(You happen to fall asleep first, and that’s how Mingyu finds you. Knocked out on the floor in your work clothes, his precious baby’s head just inches from yours. She’s closer to you than he’s ever gotten and he rolls his eyes at the flash of jealousy that lights up his throat.)

You blink awake as the warm weight on your arm leaves, whimpers filling the room and making alarm bells go off in your head. You spring to attention, fists formed and nearly swinging as you turn to face whoever upset Millie.

Oh. Mingyu’s home. Fuck.

In all of your lamenting, you’d forgotten to consider what might happen when he returned home from work. Returned to his apartment, you mean. To his home, not yours.

He’s got the brightest grin on his face, his pretty mouth stretched apart and his annoyingly perfect white teeth shining at you. Millie is trying to jump on him, so he looks away just for a moment to kneel down and welcome her into his arms, trying to avoid the cone she keeps knocking him with as she does her absolute best to kiss him. He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides and his high-pitched giggles replacing the whimpering that had awoken you. Before you can stop yourself, you’re laughing too, wandering over when Millie swivels her head around to stare imploringly at you. Apparently, Mingyu’s attention isn’t enough and as he pouts, you bite down the smug smirk that wants to rise. Millie loves you back.

“Do you wanna stay for dinner? I had something nicer planned tonight and there’s enough for two. Well, three, I eat enough for two on my own,” he chuckles sheepishly, rising to his feet and towering over you.

You don’t have anything planned, and you don’t really have any chores you need to do at home so you suppose you could stay. For a little while.

A little while turns into most of the night.

Mingyu is an excellent cook, his meal for the evening far better than anything you could scrounge up yourself, and in just a couple hours you’re washing dishes elbow to elbow and laughing like old friends. You don’t know how he’s cracked you open like this, but cracked open you are. You’re laughing at his jokes, smiling back when he grins at you, even leaning into his flirting for once. You wonder if it’s alarming to him but assume that he’s not willing to question anything that’s happening, just in case it closes you back up again.

You would almost commend him for knowing you so well if it didn’t have you feeling so miffed, like all the work you’d done in trying to keep your walls up around him was for naught. You suppose you could throw some more up but what’s the point? Mingyu will just knock them down with his big warm hands and sweet smiles and dumb jokes, and then Millie will eat all the pieces, the little hoover she is.

So, you won’t build up more walls… but, you can’t get too comfortable, either. This needs to be a one time thing.

One turns into two, two turns into three, three turns into once a week.

The project has come and gone, as has any attempt to pretend you’re not just as obsessed with Kim Mingyu as he is with you. Even San seems to have noticed the change, returning to what you assume is harmless flirting and a touch of light bullying. Mingyu doesn’t even really pick up on that anymore either, the flirting or the teasing. He’s too busy peeking over the wall in between you to stare at you with hearts in his eyes or whisper, “For dinner, I was thinking…,” in a voice far smaller than you’d think could come from a 186 centimetre tall man (that’s the exact number, he’d corrected you quite petulantly when you approximated him to be 182 centimetres).

You don’t even get annoyed when he interrupts your work anymore, just giving a light roll of your eyes and then all of your attention to whatever he’s deemed important enough to tell you about. Most of the time, it is important. Like asking you to come to the vet with him to see if the neighbour dog had gotten Millie pregnant (her and Asher went through a bit of a rough patch). He didn’t, and Millie got a very stern talking to about safety and loyalty, and you got to see Mingyu in full dad mode which was very, very dangerous for your poor, susceptible ovaries. Some times are less important, like when he made you stop working on your spreadsheet to show you his new high Wordle score. He started playing when San said he needed to work on his vocabulary and while you think his repertoire is just fine, you are happy that he’s found a new game to spend time on rather than playing Cooking Mama in between work calls.

The environment at work has changed too. People passing by have always said hi to San and Mingyu, but now they mention you too, unfortunately. Mingyu always chuckles when they include you, knowing that you’re frowning into your computer screen even as you respond with a fake-bright, “Morning!” Your boss makes more small talk with you, as do others at the water dispenser, and it’s exactly as you’d feared.

You knew that letting Mingyu in would make everyone else think they had access to you too, and you were right. You’d expected it to feel like the end of the world, like you would need to pack up your things and terminate your employment immediately, find some remote job and move to Antarctica so your coworkers wouldn’t even have a chance of becoming interested in your life.

However, it’s not as bad as you thought.

Sure, you can’t go to the bathroom without Janet asking if you need her to go with you, but it’s nice to have a lil Ladies Room Chat from time to time. And maybe your daily fights with Anderson over the good parking spot are becoming more and more playful and less like you’d actually hit his car if it was legal. And perhaps you’ve noticed the way the receptionist looks at San and told Mingyu and now you’re hatching a scheme to get them together. And it’s possible, you begrudgingly admit, that you’re having a good time with it. With Mingyu, with your work… acquaintances, with everything.

You’re enjoying yourself and no matter how foreign it is, you think that it could be okay to just lean into it all. You also think that if Mingyu asked you out, you’d say yes.

You sit across from Mingyu at his dining table, a glass of red wine at your lips and a glare radiating at him over the rim. It’s been weeks of this, weeks of him making you dinner and you cleaning up together and then watching a movie on the couch. You’re not sure how much longer you can take the domesticity without the label, which is quite off-brand for you, needing a label at all, but you want Mingyu to be your boyfriend, damnit! You want to have to fill out one of those stupid forms, and actually stay over after dinner, and drive to work together and have him drop you off at your cubicle with a dramatic goodbye as if he won’t be just a metre away. You want to kiss him, and hug him, and feel up those massive biceps. You want to fall asleep next to him and wake up with him and let him teach you to cook and probably get distracted and oh no, he needs to bend you over the counter?

Your eyes flit to his island as if you can picture it, feel the cold marble under your stomach and the sharp edge digging into your hips and the smooth texture of it against your skin as he fucks in and out of you. His kitchen is custom made, the cabinets a bit taller than regular for his height, so your feet would probably hang once he got you folded in half, and the thought of being suspended as he fucks you how he wants has heat flooding your stomach.

“Y/n? You okay?” Mingyu asks, a bite held up to his mouth as if he’s just now noticed how far away you’ve gone in your mind. You nod, finally taking a sip and trying to let the deep flavour of the wine clear your mind. It doesn’t, of course, just makes you feel warmer and the images clearer. Imaginary Mingyu wraps your hair around a fist and bends over you, whispering filthy nothings into your ear and biting at your strained neck, and you can’t take it anymore.

“Mingyu, why haven’t you asked me to be your girlfriend?” You don’t mean to sound so upset, and you know it isn’t fair, but you think you are upset. How could he do this to you, make you see him this way and want all these things with him, and not take responsibility?

He chokes on the bite he was chewing, coughing uncontrollably and turning red as you sit there and stare at him. He’s not actually choking or you’d help, but for now you just watch as he takes gulp after gulp of water and fights to clear his throat. You see fear, confusion, and something like incredulity in his eyes once he finds his breath again.

“I kind of… thought you were?” Mingyu starts slowly, trepidatiously reaching across the table to cover your hand with his and subtly remove the knife from your grasp.

“What do you mean, you thought I was? Why haven’t you kissed me then? Or taken me out on a date? Or even told me how you feel about me?” Now you’re the confused one, because how could Mingyu think he was dating you without doing any of these things?

“Well, I didn’t want to scare you away! You wouldn’t even look at me when I used to say good morning and now I get to text you goodnight. And I would love to plan a date for us, you’re just a self-proclaimed homebody so I thought dates at home like this would be better.”

You suppose those are good explanations, and you can’t blame him for being scared, you can be kind of scary.

“What about the kissing?” You ask in a small voice, pursing your lips and avoiding his eyes as if you could hide the vulnerability currently swallowing you.

“Baby, trust me, I want to kiss you all the fucking time. I just couldn’t tell if you were a touchy person so I wanted to let you make the first move,” Mingyu promises, intertwining his fingers with yours and lifting your hand up to his mouth to place a gentle peck.

Your heart races, thumping like a rabbit on the run, as you take in his words. You feel supremely stupid for your part in the lack of communication and even more annoyed at how long you could’ve been on your back underneath Mingyu if either of you had just said something. But, you’re not one for apologies, so you stand and stride to Mingyu’s side of the table, pulling his chair out just enough for you to throw a leg over it and straddle his lap.

“Okay, so just to be clear, I’m not a touchy person but I want you to touch me. I’m not a romantic person but I want you to romance me. And I’m not really a relationship kind of person, but I want one with you. So, you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend, and that’s that. Good?”

His eyes shine up at you, his beam blinding, but you don’t need to see much as he nods and cradles your face, pulling you closer to press a searing kiss to your lips. You’d expected him to be gentle, tentative, but he’s been waiting even longer than you and you suppose he’s got some time to make up for. You don’t mind, preferring more of a fast pace yourself and opening up for him immediately when his tongue grazes your bottom lip. He tastes like wine and want, like pure desire, and already you never want to stop kissing him.

You sit there in his lap, making out as the food grows cold and the wine grows warm, kissing the night away until something starts to nudge at the place between your thighs. Something huge, you think, judging by the sheer length of it pressed against your leg. He moans when you grind down on it, making you grin into his lips and do it again, reveling in the way his hips jerk into you. One of his hands clamps around your hip and the other travels down to adjust himself before he slides lower in the dining chair so his dick presses right against you. He’s so warm you can feel him through the four layers separating you but it’s not enough, you need to feel his skin on yours, his body on yours.

“Mingyu, can we move this to the-,”

“Yep!,” he shoots to his feet, barely waiting for you to hug him with your legs before he speedwalks to his bedroom and sits heavily on the bed, the force of it bouncing you in his lap and making both of you let out a groan as his dick presses between your legs.

“Clothes off,” you insist, pulling at the buttons of his work shirt and pouting when you realize he’s got an undershirt on too. He chuckles at you, pushing your hands to your own shirt so he can finish undoing the buttons, working much faster than you were. He’s pulling off the white tee when you finally get your shirt open and off, and you both freeze when you catch sight of the other.

He’s so… perfect. His skin is so honeyed and smooth, his muscles the optimal level of defined, and his body… His body dwarfs yours, you could hide in the circle of his arms and be completely unseen, untouchable except by him, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the idea.

You know Mingyu’s staring because you’ve got your tits out, but you’d like to think they’re some of the best he’s ever seen and that’s why he’s hardly breathing. Or moving. And not speaking at all. You slowly shift to unclasp your bra, letting the garment fall and watching his eyes grow impossibly wider.

He just keeps staring, and though you’re not one to be self conscious, it’s slightly difficult when you’ve got a specimen of a man looking at you so intently. You squirm a bit in his lap, your lip bitten between your teeth and your arms coming up to cover your chest. He catches your wrists in his hands and draws them back down to your lap, whispering when you protest, “Shhh, baby. Just lemme look for a little bit.”

And look, he does. Soon enough, he touches too, his fingers grazing your nipples and his tongue reaching out to swipe at his lips as he watches them pebble under his touch. He experiments for a while, constantly looking up to your face as he tries different things, searching for what really makes you tick. A quick study, he finds it, and it’s like he’s lit you up. You gasp for breath and arch into his hands, your legs stretched open over his thick thighs and your nipples hardening between his fingertips.

You want his mouth on you, and either you say it out loud or he reads your mind because his tongue is lapping at your skin in the next second. His lips wrap around one side, his fingers tweaking the other, and fuck, you need these stupid fucking pants off. You’re getting so warm and they feel so restrictive, and you sink your fingers into his hair to physically pull him away when he doesn’t respond to calls of his name.

“What is it?” He pants, his lips shiny and his eyes hazy.

“I want all the clothes off, they’re getting in the way,” you complain, starting to shuffle off his lap before his hands take you by the waist and plop you down next to him on the bed. You’re not used to just being moved so you’re quick to bristle, but when you really think about it, you love that he can manhandle you like that. You love that he’s so much bigger and stronger than you, and, frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he became your own personal peoplemover.

He stands to undo and shuck his pants and your face is just about at dick height, so as soon as his boxers are revealed, you lean forward and trace your tongue over the length of his cock. He’s massive and so, so hard already, and you desperately want him in your mouth.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, unable to hide your laugh at the way his knees buckle and he has to brace himself over you on the bed.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he groans, hiding his face in your neck and letting his hands travel up to your breasts to meanly tweak a nipple, “I’ve had a crush on you for months and you just asked to suck my dick, of course it’s gonna do something to me.”

“I’d like to do something to you,” escapes your mouth before you can stop it, making Mingyu snort into your throat and then bite it harshly to stop another from letting loose. You don’t usually make jokes like that, out loud at least, and though it feels very unfamiliar to you, you stand by the sentiment.

“For real though, can I suck your dick?”

“Yes, my God, let me get on the bed so I don’t actually collapse,” he laughs, withdrawing from his hiding place to belly flop onto the sheets next to you, making you bounce and land closer to him than you were before. He twists over and lifts his hips as you pull his boxers down, his cock springing up against his stomach and swaying heavily to the side. It’s gorgeous, just like the rest of him. Massive, slightly curved, and wrapped in thick veins, your eye finding one in particular that you can’t wait to feel inside of you. You want to feel all of him inside of you but you want him in your mouth first, need to feel that thick cock weighing down your tongue and pushing into your throat, need it like you need to breathe.

Mingyu needs it too, you think. He’s leaning on his elbows but he’s got his head thrown back like he can’t stand to watch, like he’ll cum the second he sees your lips wrapped around him. It’s cute, really, but you want him to see this.

“Gyu, watch,” you breathe onto his dick, waiting for his eyes to meet yours before taking it in both hands and licking at the tip. You’re gentle, to start, your tongue darting out to lap at his frenulum and glide over the head, your hands following the movements to drag your saliva down to the root of him. You’re not sure you’ll be able to fit the whole monstrous thing in your mouth but you’re going to try your damndest, and it’ll need to be slick if you want even a chance.

You gather up the spit in your mouth and catch Mingyu’s eye, letting it drop down onto his shaft and smoothing it with your hands as his face crumples on a groan.

“You’re too fucking good at this,” he whines, his fingers clenching in the sheets before you take them in your own and bring them up to your hair.

“I literally haven’t even started,” you remind him, “and you can pull.”

You bring the head back up to your mouth and press a soft kiss to the seam, taking in one final deep breath before tucking your lips over your teeth and swallowing as much of his cock as you can in one go. He shouts above you, his hips bucking up and shoving more into your mouth. You try to accept it but you gag and pull off of him, trying to catch your breath. Mingyu pets your hair, whispering a thousand apologies and doing some deep breathing of his own, until you go again and take more this time, making him hiss and grip your hair tighter.

He doesn’t buck into your mouth again but he does start running his.

“Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, honey.” “Wanted to see you like this since you picked up that pen in front of me, shit.” “Fuck, you’re the best, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”

His praise spurs you, keeps you going when the air gets too thin and your throat feels too raw, and you’re bobbing up and down on his cock, really starting to hit your stride when he pulls you off by the hair and up into a scorching kiss. You wonder if he can taste himself on your lips and grumble to yourself that if he’d let you keep going, you could have really tasted him, but you know that him stopping you now means you’ll get his dick that much sooner, so you can’t complain.

“Sorry, baby, got too close. That mouth is fucking insane, Jesus,” Mingyu moans, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to regulate his breathing. You smile and peck him again, sliding off the bed to strip off your slacks and underwear and missing the way his eyes heat up and his face smooths out.

“C’mere,” Mingyu sits up, holding his hands out to you and bringing you in close to stand between his knees. He pushes the hair away from your face, cradling your cheeks in his palms and laying the softest, most gentle kiss on your lips before running his hands down your body. They graze your breasts, smooth over your stomach, pause for a squeeze at your hips, carry on down your thighs, then glide back up to turn you around. You guess he’s only really seen the front and you’ve gleaned that he likes to look, so you let him take in his fill, feeling his eyes on you like a physical thing before his hands replace them.

He focuses on your ass immediately, pinching, kneading, rubbing, and you think you can just barely hear him whispering to himself when he asks, “Can I spank you?”

Your eyes fall shut in silent thanks, your heart thudding in your chest at the thought of his big, hot hands coming down on your skin.

“Fuck, yes,” you sigh, following dazedly when he tugs you to lay across his lap, shivering when he places his hand on one cheek as if to steady you before he starts.

“Just tell me when you want me to stop, this isn’t a punishment or anything,” Mingyu reassures you, squeezing your ass to acknowledge the little, “Okay,” you let out.

The air stills when his hand leaves you, tension winding tighter and tighter in your gut until a smack echoes throughout the room and a hot sting starts radiating through the flesh of your ass. You almost feel like you can’t breathe, it feels so good, and you just know you’re getting wetter, can only hope it doesn’t trail down between your thighs to land on his. You have a feeling he’d love that so you’re not too worried about it, but he doesn’t need to know yet, just how much power over you he holds.

“Was that alright?” he asks, his voice slightly worried and his palm soothing the throbbing skin.

“Perfect,” you force out, your toes wiggling in anticipation as you wait for the next, “Are you gonna do it again or not?”

“Impatient,” he laughs but obliges, bringing his hand down on you lightly before following up with a harder smack, his fingers digging into the flesh sharply afterward like he can’t stand to let go.

He carries on like that for however long. You can’t be fucked to tell time when you’ve become a sopping wet mess on his lap, when you’re nearly crying with pleasure, when your cunt is pulsing and leaking and empty and your ass is hot and swollen and covered in handprints. You don’t know anything anymore, just Mingyu, and when he carefully pulls you into his arms and cradles you to his chest, you think you might finally let yourself actually cry over a man.

“Fuck me?” You whine somewhat pitifully, clutching at his bicep and looking up at him imploringly.

“Baby, no, I gotta stretch you out first,” he insists, and you consider protesting, but then you remember what his dick felt like in your throat and know that he’s right, even if you hate to admit it.

“Fine, but be quick,” you reply, rearranging yourself so your back rests against his chest and you can spread your legs out over his. You gasp as the cold air hits you, your wetness glistening on your thighs and between your legs before one of Mingyu’s warm hands slides down to cover you, his teeth nibbling at your ear cartilage and his voice deep as he whispers, “So fucking wet.”

His fingers glide slowly through your folds, taking their time getting to know you, enough so that you buck up into his touch and moan his name impatiently. He teases you for a while longer, until you’re writhing in his arms and about ready to shove four of your own fingers inside, and that’s when he finally gives in.

He slips in one, first. It’s long, thick, bigger than yours and able to easily hit your g-spot, but still not enough. Two is better by half, but you still feel so empty, “Need you,” you whine, and he slides in a third, spreading and curling all three but just barely missing that rough patch inside. You know he did it on purpose, but you don’t complain, knowing that he’ll just tell you to wait and that you’ll do it, like the g-.

“Good girl,” Mingyu breathes into your ear, and the shudder is uncontrollable.

He must feel you clench, must feel you get wetter around his fingers, and you just know he’s got an evil smirk on as he chuckles, “You know, I thought you might like that, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Then why’d you say it?” You ask, frustrated at him cracking your code once again. And at how his fingers have stilled halfway inside of you.

“Because I wanted to. I would stop if you told me, but I want you to know how much of a good girl you're being for me. I think you deserve to hear it and I like saying it, and now I know you like it too, so…,” he drifts off, thrusting his fingers into you harshly and sucking in a breath when he feels you clamp down, “Are you gonna keep being my good girl?”

You can only nod weakly, whining as he starts to fuck you roughly with his fingers, the digits jackhammering in and out of you at a speed you almost can’t handle. You can feel your wetness splashing against your thighs, hear how it squelches out of you with every thrust, and you know Mingyu feels it, hears it too. You fucking love it, love how messy he’s gotten you and how you’re only going to get messier, and when he whispers lowly, “Wanna see you squirt,” you know he loves it messy, too.

Thank God for that, because he’s totally going to make you squirt. It doesn’t happen often, only once or twice with that one magic-handed ex, but you recognize the signs. You can feel it coiling up inside you, the pressure building and building deep in your pelvis, like a knot that just keeps getting pulled tighter and tighter. He changes the angle of his thrusts, aiming them a bit higher and slightly more shallow, and you know he’s got you.

He pounds into you, fingerfucking your g-spot with startling accuracy and force until the balloon pops and you scream, your knees fighting to close as liquid sprays out of you and down his arm. Your eyes clench shut and you lose your breath, your walls fluttering uncontrollably around his fingers as you cum hard enough you nearly black out.

“Good girl, there’s my good girl, there’s my baby,” Mingyu exhales, petting at your sweaty forehead and keeping his fingers curled inside of you. Your hips jerk with aftershocks, little bursts of slick seeping out around his fingers with every buck.

“Now will you fuck me?” you pant, sprawled on top of him and quite literally aching for his cock.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you now,” He nods and laughs at you again, as he seems liable to do, and nods, his chin brushing against your shoulder and his stubble grating on your skin.

He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you, placing you on the bed next to him so he can hover on top of you on all fours.

“How do you want it?” He asks, looking, for all and intents and purposes, as if he’d do literally whatever you said. You like that, and absolutely plan to use it to your advantage later, but for now you’ll be kind and say, “Like this, Gyu, just like this.”

You suppose that’s the answer he wanted, because he grins and smacks a kiss to your lips, hauling your legs up around his waist and letting his cock glide through your folds to nestle against your clit. You jump, your pussy still sensitive from the orgasm he’d just drawn from you, but you love the pressure and heat of him there. You want him inside though, need him stretching you out, so you angle your hips and thrust down, sinking the head of his cock into your entrance.

He whines into your open mouth, a broken, stuttered thing, and pushes in a couple more inches. That’s all you can take, for now, his girth bigger than the three fingers he’d opened you up with and his length enough to reach the end of you. He fucks you open just a little bit more with every thrust until he’s halfway inside and it’s like something shifts in you to make room for him because from there, it’s easy. He pulls out, or tries to, your cunt sucking him back in so tight it’s hard for him to move.

Mingyu isn’t one for giving up though, so he pulls back with more force and plunges inside of you again, his one thrust sending you up the bed. Your head rests just inches from his headboard so he wraps his arms around you to hold you in place as he starts to really fuck you. He’s so big and warm around you and inside of you, and when he tilts his hips up and finds your g-spot with the head of his cock, you know you’re done for.

There’s little else you can do but lay there and take it as he pounds into you, one of his hands rising to clench in your hair and pull your head back so he can bite bruises into some very visible spots on your neck. You’ll be annoyed later at having to cover them up, but right now, you love that he wants to leave his mark on you. You want to leave your mark on him too, dragging your nails down his back as you moan his name and beg him to keep going.

“Won’t stop, baby, won’t stop until you tell me. Never been like this before, fuck,” he sounds wounded, dazed, like your cunt has cast a spell on him and he never wants to wake from it. You’re not sure you sound much more composed, your throat starting to ache from all of the sounds he’s pulled from you tonight and your stomach filling with heat as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. It won’t be long now, and though you don’t want this to end, you know that later, you can wake Mingyu up to fuck you again and he’ll be ecstatic about it.

“Are you close?” You ask urgently, your neck straining from his grip in your hair and your pussy now formed to the shape of him.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he hisses, dropping a hand down to your clit to press rough circles into the raw bundle of nerves. He was closer than you anticipated but you have a feeling that soon enough, Mingyu will have you cumming on command, so you have no doubt you’ll get there with him. Especially not with the thrusts he’s got aimed right at your g-spot, and definitely not with the thick fingers he’s got rubbing your clit. Before you can even take in another breath, you’re tumbling off the edge with him, your pussy clenching around his cock as his hot cum floods into you in waves.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, your brain dissolving into a delicious haze and your body melting between Mingyu and the bed. You let your eyes slip closed, thoughts ticking away one by one until you don’t have even a single string of words to connect. You have to wonder if every sexual experience with him will be transcendental like this.

Mingyu whimpers above you, probably sensitive as he starts to come down. Your cunt keeps squeezing him and though you don’t wish it would stop, you do feel a little bad that he seems to be struggling so much.

“You know you can pull out, right?” You offer, confused as to why he’s staying inside of you when it seems to be hurting him so.

“Don’t want to, I like it,” he forces out, digging his hips into yours just a little bit more before laying his head down on your chest and promptly falling asleep.

You don’t really know what to do, but you can hear Millie whining so you give him a few minutes to recover before fighting to shove his dead weight off your body and throwing on his shirt. His cum is trickling down your inner thighs so you make a pit stop at the ensuite for a quick shower before peeking your head out of the bedroom and looking for Millie. She’s on the couch, staring balefully at the door and wagging her tail just slightly, though she perks up when she sees you. She’s probably waiting for her bedtime walk and you don’t want to keep her waiting any longer, so you find a clean pair of Mingyu’s boxers to throw on and get her harnessed and ready to go.

You cup Millie’s face in your hands and kiss her on the forehead, whispering quietly about where you’ll go on your walk and standing to grab her leash before you finally notice Mingyu in the doorway. He’s got rumpled pajamas on and he’s trying to frown, likely about you leaving him to sleep alone, but his eyes are too full of love for you to believe him even the slightest bit.

“Can I join you two?” He asks softly, pushing off the doorframe to amble over and steal a kiss before pulling away to let you answer.

“I’d be annoyed if you didn’t,” you assure him, holding a hand out for him to take and following him to the front door of the flat. You slide into your loafers, nagging yourself to bring a pair of slides to keep at his place so you don't have to walk in your work shoes.

“You know… if you wanted, you could, um, maybe bring some stuff over to have here? Like, comfy clothes and maybe your nighttime things so you could… stay?”

He sounds nervous to offer, like he’s still anxious about frightening you away, so you answer quickly, “I want the third drawer of your dresser.”

He bites back the beam, staring down at you with his canines pressing against his bottom lip, and just as he leans down to kiss you, you can’t help but think, fuck, I’m fucking in love with this guy.

A head of floppy black hair rises above the wall separating your cubicles, followed by bright eyes and a cute, freckled nose. You spot the grin and know exactly what he’s decided to bother you about, preemptively declaring, “No, we cannot leave early to take Millie to the good park across town.”

Mingyu whines quietly, pouting and beseeching you with his eyes to change your mind. You’re resolute, well aware that your previously preciously stored vacation time is dwindling and you can’t afford to waste anymore if you want to take Mingyu on that hiking trip. You, personally, despise hiking for all that it is, but Mingyu is a fanatic for it and you know he’ll carry you whenever you get tired or bored, so this is one you can take for the team.

“But Asher-”

“Babe, Asher will be there on Saturday too. Millie doesn’t need to see her all the time, space is good for a couple.”

“Tell that to you guys! Oh my god, you’ve been unbearable since you got together,” San exclaims, popping up over his own wall to glare at you both.

“San, please, don’t think I haven’t heard you with the receptionist,” you retaliate, “you might as well just ask her to marry you with how obvious you’re being.”

Mingyu only smirks in response and you try to pretend it doesn’t make your heart and your pussy flutter.

You’re not successful.

AN: from the bottom of my heart, thank you to @bbychocolat for commissioning this work! I love the idea and it's the fastest ive ever written 10k words before, and it was more than wonderful to have both her cheering me on as i wrote. thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading this for me, your notes are invaluable!

please reblog if you read and enjoyed this! reblogs and replies are what make this website work and i would love to know your thoughts and feelings 💖💖💖

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hyperfixatedonthisnow · 10 months

Text

Bound by blue ribbon

*not my GIF

Requested by: Anonymous - hiiii! If ya are still taking request!! Then may I get one of the ribbon scene from Rule of Wolves (I think???? I’m not surrrre) but it’s fem!reader x Nikolai? And instead of in her hair, it’s around her neck like a choker??

Just IMAGINE it with the classic character A walks down the staircase looking absolutely STUNNING and character B is s p e e c h l e s s trope! -

Dearest anon, I’m not sure I can properly convey just how much I loved this request. Like, you don’t understand, I am OBSESSED with how good this idea is! So much so that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to write anything that did it justice, but I tried my best. Hope you like it 🙏

Disclaimer (because I’m not looking to get sued): Some lines/dialogue directly borrowed from RoW, with a few minor changes. Obviously, I do not own those words and don’t claim to - they are the property of Leigh Bardugo and all rights belong to her and/or Netflix. Fanfic is for fun only; I am not making any money from this in any way.

Word count: 6Kish

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Dual POV, idiots in love, fluff, the teeniest smidgen of angst if you squint, A little triumvirate cameo, more Genya than anyone - because someone needs to get these idiots together, soft!Nikolai, minimal plot, fem!reader, smut, oral sex (female receiving), P in V sex, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

The party to celebrate Nikolai’s saints day was going to be beyond anything Ravka had ever seen before. Lavish decorations were being put up, the palace kitchens were working on a complicated menu, and the best musicians had been hired to perform. Nikolai hadn’t wanted such a fuss, but the triumvirate had invited every eligible maiden in the country, and most of the neighbouring countries as well, insisting that it was the perfect occasion for the king to finally choose a bride. Which was exactly why you had decided not to attend.

Nikolai had been your best friend since childhood, and you had been in love with him for more than half that time. Over the years, as you had grown from a child into a young woman, you had hoped that maybe he might see you in a romantic light, but unfortunately that hadn’t happened. You didn’t hold it against him, in fact you treasured his friendship, and you wanted only the best for him. You just weren’t sure your heart could withstand watching him fall in love with someone else.

The day of the party, you kept to your room, feigning illness. Nothing too serious, just a headache that would prevent you from attending the party, so that Nikolai could meet the potential woman of his dreams without you having to witness it. Unfortunately, sitting alone in your room all day gave you endless time to think, and your mind was determined to linger on thoughts of Nikolai with some faceless princess. Before dinner, you decided to take a bath, hoping to distract yourself. When you returned to your bedchamber, you found Genya lounging on your bed, alongside a large box.

You stared at your friend, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself. “How did you get in here? And why are you here, shouldn’t you be at the party already?”

“Unimportant,” Genya said breezily, waving her hand as if brushing the question aside, “and yes, I should, but someone had to help you get ready.”

You opened your mouth to tell her she needn’t have bothered but she cut you off with a disapproving click of her tongue. “Don’t waste your time trying to convince me you’re ill, I know that’s a lie.”

“Fine,” you huffed, “but I’m still not going, even if I wanted to - which I don’t - I have nothing to wear.”

Genya gave you a sly smile, holding out the envelope she had hidden in her hand. It bore the royal seal, and was addressed to you, but it had already been opened.

“Have you been reading my private correspondence?” You questioned, irritation bleeding into your tone.

“Mmm,” she hummed, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “it seems the king has sent you a gift. How very thoughtful of him.”

You eyed her suspiciously as you pulled the note from the envelope. The message was short, just two lines, written in Nikolai’s familiar cursive.

~ I hope you’ll wear this tonight. Lantsov blue looks good on you. N ~

Your brow furrowed in confusion. That shade of blue was reserved exclusively for the royal family. The closest you ever came to wearing it was a baby blue silk ribbon that you used to tie your hair back every day. A ribbon you had stolen from Nikolai himself, many months ago. He had been using the blue silk to tie his invention blueprints, keeping the rolls of parchment together and relatively organised when he wasn’t using them. On that afternoon, you had been wearing your hair down, but it was hot in his workshop, so you had pulled your hair back into a braid, snatching up the ribbon to secure it. You had meant to give it back, eventually, but then you had forgotten, and soon it had become a part of your daily wardrobe. You hadn’t even realised he had noticed it.

Genya opened the box to reveal a beautiful gown of pale blue silk, overlayed with a layer of tulle, embroidered in a galaxy of sparkling silver stars. You moved closer, lifting it from the box to finger the delicate fabric.

“See, problem solved.” She announced smugly.

“I can’t wear the king’s colour,” you protested.

“Clearly, he wants you to,” she argued, “would you really deny him?”

You gave her a withering look, “You know full well that I would never deny him anything,” you grumbled, “but people will talk.

“So? Let them,” she shrugged.

You bit your lip, deliberating. On the one hand, the thought of Nikolai buying a dress specially for you to wear on his birthday made your stomach flip pleasantly, but on the other hand, you had already decided not to go to the party and a pretty dress wasn’t going to change your mind. But surely it couldn’t hurt to just try it on … right?

“Well, you have to try it on, at the very least,” Genya insisted, as if she had read your mind, “a dress this beautiful deserves to be worn.”

“Alright,” you conceded, “but just for a moment.”

Genya smiled widely, clapping her hands together with glee.

The second you stepped into the dress, soft silk slipping over your skin, you knew you had made a mistake. Genya laced the corset up with practiced ease and when she was done, she stepped back to admire you. She gasped as she took in the full effect of you in the dress, and as you turned to look at yourself in the mirror you could see why. It fit you like a glove. The colour complemented your skin perfectly and the fabric clung to you in all the right places, accentuating your waist and the curve of your hips. The sweetheart neckline was so low as to almost be scandalous, putting your breasts on full display. You wondered what Nikolai had been thinking when he picked it out. If he had picked it out. Either way, now that you had seen it on, you knew you had no choice but to go to the party. A dress like this demanded to be seen. Genya fixed your hair, sweeping it into an elegant updo and leaving a few curls to fall loose around your face. You kept your jewelry light, diamond earrings and bracelet to match the stars on your dress, but none of the necklaces you tried were quite right. You didn’t want anything that would draw focus from the gown. Genya suggested your hair ribbon, and when you fastened the light blue silk around your throat as a choker, she helped you to tie it into a simple bow at the back.

“Perfect,” she declared, lips curving into a smile, and as you looked yourself over in the mirror you thought she might just be right. The two of you walked together to the ballroom, but when you got there, she dropped you off in the queue of nobles waiting to be announced, insisting you should make a grand entrance. She slipped away before you could argue, muttering something about how she couldn’t leave David unattended any longer, lest he use the opportunity to retreat to his workshop.

You waited at the top of the staircase, just out of sight, as your name was announced. Your heart pounded as you made your way down the stairs. It felt as though everyone’s eyes were on you, but then you saw Nikolai, standing at the foot of the stairs as if waiting for you, and suddenly everyone else melted away. It was just you, and him, and his eyes on yours like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

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

Nikolai was having a dismal evening. So far, he had suffered through what felt like a lifetime of conversations, the longest of which was with the Kerch ambassador, a pompous peacock of a man with an impressively large moustache and unfortunately low IQ, followed by a highly uncomfortable discussion about politics with both the Shu and Fjerdan delegates. To top it off, every time he managed to escape, Zoya would appear with a new princess for him to meet, each one less suited than the last, and he would be forced to spend several painful minutes listening to them talk about their own virtues, of which there were many, apparently.

It seemed like everywhere he turned was some ambassador offering him thinly veiled threats disguised as polite conversation, or one of his ministers trying to push their own agenda whilst they had him alone, or worst of all, another pretty, but vapid, young lady, waiting to be thrust upon him as a potential bride. In truth, he wasn’t interested in any of it, because all he found himself thinking about was you.

As the minutes passed, he started to worry that you wouldn’t come, that you would leave him to deal with the vultures all on his own. And more than that, he worried that he had overstepped with his gift. He had been full of confidence when he helped to design it, chosen every detail to compliment you perfectly, but now he was second guessing himself. Would you like the gown? Would you understand his meaning, about you looking good in blue? Would you return his feelings? He wasn’t sure.

He was contemplating this - whilst only half listening to one of his ministers drone on about the dangers of allowing farmers to have control over their own crops, when Genya suddenly appeared at his side. She politely excused them both from the conversation, pointedly ignoring the minister’s indignation at being interrupted, and looped her arm through Nikolai’s, pulling him away. She led him quickly across the room to stand near the bottom of the stairs.

“Stay right here.” She instructed him sternly, and Nikolai could only blink at her, perplexed, before she was gone, melting back into the crowd without even giving him a chance to respond.

He felt a prickle of annoyance at being ordered around, honestly, wasn’t he the king? He considered walking away just purely on principle, no matter how childish that might be, but then he heard your name being announced, and he wondered if Genya had known. He looked up, his heart hammering in his chest, and when you walked out onto the staircase, he thought it might have stopped beating altogether. You were wearing the gown he had picked out, your hair curled and styled perfectly, and around your throat, that scrap of pale blue silk that haunted his dreams. Usually, you wore it in your hair, and it was eminently practical, but it had the unfortunate effect of making him want to untie it. Seeing it around your throat made that idea all the more appealing. You were stunning. He realised his imagination had not done you justice, could not even come close. The sight of you quite literally took his breath away.

He reached out almost automatically as you got near enough, offering you his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you down the last few steps.

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

“Hi,” you breathed once you were standing face to face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but Nikolai just stared at you, slack-jawed, for what felt like an eternity. You began to fidget, feeling self-conscious.

“Do I look ok?” You asked, smoothing down your dress nervously.

He shook his head. “‘Ok’ would be a gross understatement,” he said, “You are a vision.”

Your face lit up in a smile, pleased at the compliment, and you could feel the warmth of a blush spreading across your cheeks. Nikolai dropped your hand, and you almost mourned the loss, but then he pressed his hand to the small of your back instead, and all you could focus on was that intimate point of contact as he led you away from the stairs and further into the room.

“I was beginning to think you had abandoned me,” Nikolai said, his mouth tipping up into a small smile.

“I wasn’t sure I’d come,” you found yourself admitting quietly, “but then someone sent me this beautiful gown, and I changed my mind.”

“You like it?”

“I do,” you assured him, “Thank you. It’s a very generous gift, although it’s your birthday, shouldn’t I be the one giving you a gift?”

“You deserve it,” he said, voice low in your ear, “and seeing you in this dress is a gift for me.”

You were sure you were blushing again. Was he flirting with you? Surely not, that had to be wishful thinking on your part.

“Do you want to dance?” You asked, changing the subject lest you embarrass yourself.

“Yes,” he murmured as he took your hand again, leading you out onto the floor.

He held you close as you moved together through the steps of the dance, effortlessly in sync. You focused completely on him, enjoying the intimate feeling of being pressed against him, his eyes on yours and his hands warm on your body. Being so close to him was the sweetest kind of torture, and you quickly began to feel overheated, as your mind inevitably drifted to all the other ways you could enjoy being close to him, of his hands in much more intimate places. You looked around, trying to clear your head, and you realised that it hadn’t been just your imagination, people were staring, but you found that you didn’t care at all. As your eyes met his again, you were surprised to see that same feeling of desire reflected back at you. Maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking after all.

When the dance ended, he asked if you wanted to get some air, and you agreed, following him across the room and out into the hallway.

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

Nikolai pulled you into an alcove, just off the main hallway. It was quieter here, with less chance of being seen or overheard.

“Genya and Zoya won’t be happy when they realize you’ve ditched your own party,” you told him, “They’re determined to find you a wife tonight.”

“I don’t care,” he said honestly, “and I’m not interested in any of those girls.”

“You must marry, Kolya. You can’t put it off forever,” you insisted, even though it pained you to say it. “You’ll have to choose someone eventually.”

“You’re the only one I would choose.” He confessed. The words were out before he thought better of them, and there was no way to pull them back.

You studied him carefully, your heart racing. “As your friend?” You asked, offering him a chance to right the ship, to take you back to familiar waters.

He could have lied, could have given you a hundred different easy replies. Instead, he said, “As my queen.”

“Because I’m dependable,” you said cautiously, tentatively, “or because I know all of your secrets?”

"I do trust you more than myself sometimes- and I think very highly of myself." He said, and you huffed a laugh, convinced that any moment now he would take it all back.

“But I would make you my queen because I want you. I want you all the time."

You wanted to tell him that you wanted him too, that he was the only man you had ever wanted, or ever would want, but it wasn’t that simple. He was your best friend, and he was also your king, and you had to be practical. “As your friend, I should tell you that would be a terrible decision. You should make a political choice, take some foreign princess as your bride. Someone who was born to be a queen.”

He met your eyes, voice steady and earnest when he said, "As your king, I should tell you that no one could dissuade me. No prince and no power could make me stop wanting you."

Nikolai felt drunk. You were going to laugh at him. You would knock him senseless and tell him he had no right. But he couldn't seem to stop.

"I would give you a crown if I could," he said. "I would show you the world from the prow of a ship. I would choose you, as my friend, as my queen, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn." He reached out, fingers brushing over the blue silk ribbon tied around your throat. "And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon on our wedding day."

You should say no, you should tell him he was making a mistake, but you couldn’t. You wanted him too, and not just tonight, but forever. You wanted a future with him, and if you closed your eyes, you could see it, as clear as day. Standing at an altar set before the Saints as a priest named you man and wife. Mornings spent together, eating breakfast and sipping coffee while you discussed the day ahead, and nights spent tangled together in his sheets, sweaty and sated. Soft touches and words of affirmation whispered in the early morning light. Two - or maybe three - golden-haired children, with your eyes and his smile, running about the palace, happy and loved, and constantly getting into mischief. A million inside jokes, and shared looks, and fights about nothing, easily forgiven. A lifetime of moments, big and small, side by side with him. You wanted it all.

“Yes,” you said simply, meeting his gaze.

“Yes?” He repeated, as if he didn’t dare to believe it.

He cupped his hand to your cheek, his palm warm against your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly across your cheekbone, and when your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, his eyes followed the movement. You wanted him to kiss you, so badly that you ached with the need of it. You tilted your head up slightly, lips parted in invitation.

He dipped his head, then paused, lips hovering just inches from yours as he searched your eyes, waiting for permission. The heat of his gaze was like flames across your skin. You leaned into him, pressing a hand to his chest and you could feel his heart racing beneath your palm. “Yes,” you said again, barely above a whisper, and he bent his head forward, finally, touching his lips to yours. His kiss was soft and sweet, just the barest brush of his lips over yours, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You made a needy sound, chasing his lips when he moved away, and his mouth curved into a smile.

He pressed you back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips and then his mouth was on yours once more, and this time there was nothing tentative about it. His tongue met yours hungrily, desperately, swallowing your sounds of pleasure. You grabbed a handful of his shirt, crushing the fabric beneath your fingers as you hauled him closer, but it still wasn’t close enough. You reached down with your free hand, tugging your skirts up so that you could curve your leg up around him and he groaned low in his throat, his hand immediately dropping from your waist to the bare skin of your thigh.

He pushed his hips forward, and you could feel the proof of his arousal, pressing against you intimately. You gasped, tipping your head back against the wall. He ducked his head, his tongue darting out to taste the smooth skin of your exposed throat, and he nipped lightly at your pulse point before trailing kisses down to the dip of your shoulder and along your collarbone.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, teeth just barely grazing your skin, and your eyebrows knitted in confusion, wasn’t he doing that already?

“I want to taste you,” he said, his fingers skating up and over your inner thigh to press at you lightly over the lace of your underwear. Oh. The thought of having his mouth on you, there, sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

“Yes,” you murmured after just a brief hesitation, and his smile turned wicked as he sank to his knees in front of you.

You hiked your dress higher, bunching the fabric above your hips so that you could watch him as he dragged your underwear slowly down your thighs and helped you step out of them. He stuffed the scrap of lace into his pocket, before he ran his hand up your calf, bending your knee and then lifting your leg to rest it over his shoulder. He kissed a path from your knee up your inner thigh towards your centre and then he stopped, warm breath ghosting over you and eyes fixed on your core, until you began to squirm. He stilled you with a firm hand on your hip.

“Nikolai,” you started, but you were robbed of the power of speech when he leaned in, his face disappearing between your thighs.

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

He licked a broad stripe across you with the flat of his tongue and you gasped, your hand shooting down to fist in his hair. He licked into you slowly, nose bumping your clit, until you were writhing and panting above him. His fingers worked you over, drawing lazy circles over your clit as he explored every inch of you with his lips and tongue. He dipped two fingers inside you, moving them in and out, crooking them slightly to search for that spot that would have you seeing stars and he knew he had found it when you moaned, clenching around him.

Nikolai had always enjoyed this, drawing pleasure from his partner with his mouth and hands, and he prided himself on being good at it, but he had never found it such a turn on before. His pants were uncomfortably tight, and he thought he could probably come untouched, just from the taste of you and the sounds you made. He turned his head for a moment to draw a ragged breath, and he smiled against your inner thigh when you whined impatiently, using your grip on his hair to drag him back where you wanted him.

He went easily, happy to oblige you, and this time he closed his lips around your clit, sucking it against his tongue. You cried out, your hand tightening in his hair hard enough to make his scalp prickle. He kept the pressure of his mouth gentle but non-stop, as your thighs began to shake, your hips jerking against his face. He couldn’t hold back his moan as he felt your body shuddering, his mouth flooded with wetness when you found your release. He worked you through it, lapping at you gently until finally, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He shifted from his knees back to his feet, and you reached for him as he stood, wanting to keep him close. His hair was sticking up at all angles, mussed by your hands, his cheeks flushed, and his lips tilted in a lopsided smirk. He looked utterly debauched in the best possible way. You swiped your thumb across his bottom lip before you leaned in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and you were surprised to find that it wasn’t unpleasant.

You reached a hand down between your bodies, to cup him over his pants and he groaned, pushing himself into your palm. A door opened somewhere, the sounds of the party drifting out into the hallway, and you froze, the illusion of privacy shattered.

The noise from further down the hallway brought Nikolai back to his senses so suddenly, he felt like he’d been doused in ice water. Had he completely lost his mind? Your first time together shouldn’t be like this, frantic and dirty, pushed up against a wall in a public place, where anyone could discover the two of you at any moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, “I got carried away, I shouldn’t have … this wasn’t…”

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to find the right words. You deserved better from him. You deserved a white veil, and matching rings, and a promise made at an alter set before the Saints. He wanted to give you all of that, and he would, but not tonight. Tonight, he could at least give you a soft bed, and gentle hands, declarations of love whispered in the dark. Romance, because you deserved that if nothing else.

He pulled back, letting you drop your skirts down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You felt your face fall before you could stop it.

“Oh,” was all the response you could muster, the sting of disappointment sharp, and so bitter you could almost taste it. You closed your eyes, willing away the tears that threatened to form. Was he saying this was a mistake? Had he changed his mind? Had you done something wrong?

“I only meant, we should go somewhere more private,” he said, watching you carefully.

“Oh,” you said again, relief flooding through you.

“Unless… if you’d rather return to the party, that’s fine too.” He clarified.

“I don’t,” you said quickly, and you almost blushed at how eager you sounded.

“No?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

You gave him a smile that you hoped was sultry. “No. Take me to bed,” you purred, and you knew you’d hit the mark when his eyes darkened in response.

He took your hand, guiding you through the palace hallways until you reached his rooms. He opened the door for you, ever the gentleman, allowing you to enter first, and then he followed you inside, locking the door swiftly behind him. There would be no more interruptions tonight, not if he could help it.

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You came to a stop by the foot of the bed, waiting for him to join you. He crossed the room in just a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms, and then his mouth was on yours again, hot and demanding. You let your hands roam, over his shoulders and into his hair, before the desperate need to feel his bare skin against yours took over, and you set to work on removing his clothes.

Your nimble fingers made light work of the knot in his cravat, pulling it loose and free of his collar in just a few short movements, and you quickly moved on to his shirt, opening the first few buttons. He pulled back for just enough time to yank the shirt off over his head, and then he was back to kissing you like his life depended on it. When you moved to unbutton his pants, your knuckles inadvertently brushing up against his hardness, he groaned low in his throat and pulled away again, this time to spin you around so that he could unlace your corset and free you from your dress.

He placed kisses across your shoulder, and down the length of your spine as it was revealed to him and once you were completely nude before him, he wrapped an arm around your waist to tug you back against him, his clothed arousal against your bare ass. You brought your hands up to your throat to untie your ribbon, but he stopped you. “Allow me, he murmured, voice low and rough in your ear. He hooked a finger into the bow at the back of your neck, tugging gently until it unravelled, soft silk sliding over your skin, and then he curled it up to put into his pocket, joining your underwear from earlier.

He cupped your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened into a peak, while his other hand travelled down the side of your ribs and across your lower abdomen to your core. You moaned as his fingers found their mark, dipping inside you to gather the wetness there before rubbing gentle circles over your clit. Only once you were panting, your head falling back against his shoulder, and your hips moving in small circles along with his hand, did he nudge you in the direction of the bed. You took the hint, though you were loath to give up the delicious friction of his talented fingers. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed first, watching with bated breath while he took off the last of his own clothes.

Once he was undressed, you scooted backwards onto the bed, so that you were positioned comfortably on the pillows, and he climbed over you, covering the length of your body with his. You gasped as you felt his erection pressing against you, almost, but not quite, in the right place. He pinned one of your hands to the bed beside your head, fingers twining with yours as he dipped his head to kiss you, licking into your mouth until you were both breathless. You bent your leg up around his hip, opening yourself up for him instinctively and he kept his eyes on yours as he flexed his hips, entering you at an agonizingly slow pace. You were warm, and wet, and perfect, and you dug your heel into the back of his thigh, urging him deeper. He groaned, his eyes slipping closed and his hand squeezing yours tightly.

Once he was fully seated inside you, he had to stop. He let his head drop to your shoulder and he held completely still, desperately fighting to get a grip on his self-control. Late at night when he lay alone in the dark, his wildest fantasies playing out behind his eyelids, it was your face he saw and your name on his lips when he came. He had dreamed of having you so many times, in a thousand different ways, but nothing could compare to the reality. It was as if he was suddenly a boy of sixteen again, green and eager, ready to spill himself at the slightest hint of friction. You shifted beneath him, wriggling impatiently and only once he was sure he would not embarrass himself, did he raise his head to look at you.

“Sorry,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up into an amused little smirk, “did you need something?”

You just barely resisted the urge to smack him, and instead clenched your inner muscles around him, watching with a smug sense of satisfaction as his eyelids fluttered, the smirk dropping from his face.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his eyes dark with arousal as they met yours, but he still didn’t move.

“Please,” you begged, and you would have been embarrassed by how needy you sounded if not for the way that his hips bucked in response.

He dipped his head, slanting his mouth over yours as he withdrew slowly, almost completely, only to fill you again with a sharp thrust of his hips. His hand was warm in yours, palms pressed together, and fingers intertwined, the connection anchoring you as he started to move in earnest, settling into a perfect, maddening rhythm that was somehow altogether too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

The muscles in his biceps were straining with the effort of holding himself up and you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, pulling him down on to you until his chest was flush with yours. He nuzzled at your throat, as he maintained his languid pace, drawing out your mutual pleasure for as long as he possibly could, and you were torn between the desperate need to climax, and the desire to stay entwined with him like this forever.

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When he felt the beginnings of his own climax, Nikolai reluctantly released your hand so that he could slip his between your bodies to thumb at your clit. Within moments, he felt you tightening around him, your orgasm beginning to ripple through you, and he kept the movement of his hips slow and steady, drawing it out until you were writhing beneath him. He removed his hand as the last tremors ran through your body, and he lifted his head, mouth finding yours, as he finally allowed himself release. He sheathed himself fully inside you, as he shuddered and came.

He collapsed onto you, pressing you into the mattress, and you stroked your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close, as you both struggled to catch your breath. Your bodies were tangled together, completely enveloped by each other, and neither of you wanted to move.

“I love you,” he murmured after a moment, turning his head so that he could press a kiss to your temple.

“I love you too,” you assured him, holding him tighter.

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In the morning, you had woken early and taken the opportunity to study Nikolai in the light of the sunrise, his face relaxed and boyish in sleep, and when he woke, he had nudged you onto your back and made love to you again. That had been followed by a bath, in which you both ended up dirtier than you had been upon getting in, and a second one - strictly for getting clean, and one horrifyingly awkward conversation with your maid, during which the girl giggled and blushed furiously, as you begged her to bring you something to wear. All of this meant that it was late, long past noon, when the pair of you finally emerged from his room.

You walked hand in hand to the council room, where the triumvirate were already assembled. Genya and Zoya were standing over the table, heads bent as they looked over a map, talking quietly together. David sat across from them, scribbling away, fingers stained with ink. Genya lifted her head as you entered, smiling knowingly at you.

Nikolai cleared his throat. “I… well, we, have something important to tell you all,” he announced. “We’re getting married.” Subtle as ever.

“Thank the Saints,” Zoya muttered, without even looking up, “I thought I’d be old and grey before you two ever got your act together.”

“I told you it would work!” Genya said gleefully.

You and Nikolai shared a confused look. “What worked?” You asked.

“The party,” Zoya explained, speaking very slowly, as if she were talking to a pair of particularly dim children, “the one we planned, to push you both into admitting you’re in love with each other, obviously.”

You both just stared at her.

“Someone had to do it,” she continued with a shrug, “Saints knows neither of you were going to do it on your own.”

“I would have done it without your intervention,” Nikolai said defensively, “eventually.”

“Yes, of course you would,” Genya said mildly, her tone just on the edge of patronising.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut in frustration. “So, just to be clear - you conceived an elaborate plot, which involved throwing an expensive party with hundreds of guests, and making me suffer through hours of mind-numbing conversation with prospective “brides”, all so that you could manipulate us into confessing our feelings for each other?”

“I wouldn’t say manipulate,” Genya objected, “more like give you a loving shove in the right direction.”

“A brilliant plan, really,” David piped up, “and, clearly, effective.”

Genya smiled fondly at him. “Thank you, dear.”

And suddenly it all made sense, the way Genya had come to insist you go to the party, the way she had pushed you to wear the dress even though it was Lantsov blue, the fact that she had made you wait to be announced, and that Nikolai had mysteriously been waiting for you the moment you entered the room. The mysterious coincidence that all the young ladies Zoya had introduced to him were almost comically unsuitable. They had engineered it all.

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread over your face. Perhaps you should have been upset by the idea that they had manipulated you both, but honestly you weren’t. You shared another look with Nikolai. He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now too, and you knew he shared your feelings on the matter. This whole charade might have been ridiculous, but how could you hold it against them, when it had resulted in the happiest night of your lives.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #fem!reader #shadow and bone #grishaverse #zoya is my queen but not in this fic #my writing #i wrote this #request #patrick gibson

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devieuls · 1 year

Text

My Neighbor

Hawks x Fem Reader ! smut ¡

Warnings : dirty talk, arrogant Hawks, teasing. Explicit content 18+ MDNI

Synopsis : Your friendly, sweet neighbor, loved and adored by everyone, has been taking your sleep away for months because of his occasional sex session with strangers. So one night, tired of the situation, you show up at his door...

Length : 3k+

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It had been months since your nightmares first started. Your new neighbor was this, a nightmare that kept you from sleeping at night because of his adventures with strangers, and unfortunately the only one who could complain about it was you, 'cuz your bedrooms were snug and evidently his bed was attached to your wall, causing hammering every time he fucked a woman, but on the bright side, the sweet old lady from a few doors away supported you, even though she was a gossip granny and told all the intimate gossip of others.

You couldn’t deny that your mind had flown into ungodly thoughts, after all that bumping into the wall couldn’t make you think of anything else. He took your sleep away, so why not fantasize about him?

After all, he was a handsome man, tall, golden eyes, hair the color of the sun, lips more than delicious, a beautiful body and those scarlet wings that sprouted from his back, making him something ethereal, almost an angel. His personality was no different, always available to everyone, no wonder he was a much loved Hero, he had almost princely ways to do that made him adored by anyone.

In public you looked at him quite badly, and you had scolded him several times for his behavior, too bad that with those honey eyes and that smile made you melt and forget to be angry with him. Sure, he apologized every time, promising to keep it down, but he obviously forgot every fucking time.

Just like tonight.

Your eyes on the ceiling, sighing in frustration and hands joined together on your chest, praying that he would remember his promise and go easier on the new girl, just not to bother you. Unfortunately, that was not the case. You had to suffer the screams of pleasure and moans of the girl, while the wall almost threatened to collapse because of the bed that kept crashing.

< Shit! Can you just keep it down? > You said aloud, complaining about the sounds, then covering your ears with the pillow, hoping to look after his, even if a little. After about an hour and a half the sounds had stopped, you didn’t know exactly what gave you the courage to get up to knock on his door, but you were really tired and he had to see that you didn’t sleep anymore because of him.

Once you opened the door to your house, a staggering girl walked past you with ruffled hair and a little dress that barely stayed in place. You sighed and rolled your eyes, knowing that surely that girl had come out of your "friendly" neighbor’s house.

You knocked on his door and then crossed your arms to the chest evidently angry, after a few minutes the boy opened the door and smiled genuinely, almost innocently.

< What brings my lovely neighbour to my door? > He said with a hoarse and breathless voice, leaning against the door frame with one arm, towering above you.

And there was the moment when your convictions to rebuke him fell. His chest was naked, sweat gleaming on his sculpted physique and against light was even sexier than the vision; gray sweatpants and relaxed wings behind him; his hair messy and ruffled, with some strands on his face, slightly covering the predatory eyes he had; the mocking smile and that tone of voice...

No, you couldn’t give in just because it’s sexy, you can see beyond, you have to see beyond.

< Keigo. Let’s not start with this bullshit, you know very well why I am here. You have done it again, I’m tired of not being Able to sleep because you have to fuck every night. It’s your house, you can do whatever you want, but I need to sleep. Tomorrow is my day of rest and I was going to sleep to go out, but if you stop me from resting, I have to spend the day in bed to recover the hours of sleep > You said angry, and then put your finger on his chest < Really. Stop, at least slow down. It’s not normal that at this time of night you kept me Awake. It’s disrespectful, you’re rude. > you ended up angry, trying not to be distracted by his body.

Keigo laughed and tilted his head to the side, watching you pointing your finger at his chest. He bit his lip and leaned forward to get closer to you; his eyes went down on your body and noticed how you were dressed. You wore a two-piece suit in burgundy satin and lace and a robe of the same color you wore over just to cover the exposed parts.

< And you tell me this in that outfit, darlin' ? > He said smirking, making you back up and cover yourself with your robe, slightly red on your face.

< This is supposed to be pajamas and I should use it to sleep, which you obviously don’t, pretty bird. > you said in a provocative tone, making him laugh.

He made you back up until you touched the wall with your back, locking you in that spot because of his arms. You shuddered to feel like a bird in a cage, no matter how sexy the cage was blond.

< Such a waste to use to sleep, when someone might appreciate it more than your bed > replied.

He held a hand on your side and approached your neck, biting his lip again when he saw that you did not resist and that her touch caused you chills. < Are you sure you came to me to scold me? Or did you want to take the place of that girl. > his voice was arrogant and mocking as he blew on your neck.

You really wanted to scold him, but you weren’t sure you didn’t want to replace the girl or the girls from the previous nights.

< Birdie, don’t get ahead of yourself. I came to complain about you, not to let you fuck me. > you said bitterly, and then slightly away from him by placing a hand on his chest.

< You don’t seem to mind my touch. Princess, if you wanted to try me, you could have just asked>

< You’re so fucking cocky, Keigo. >

< Don’t pretend you’re sorry, y/n. I’m sure you’re already getting wet right now, but you’d rather be snooty, the one who wouldn’t let me touch her > He took you by the hips and drew you closer to him < When we both know that you would like what I have to offer you > he said blowing words on your lips, caressing your hips.

You looked away blushing, shit! if he was right. He moved a hand over your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. His eyes were ravenous, lustful, and he was eating and swallowing you.

You’ve never seen him so bold and perverse before, so you shuddered at every touch or word, sighing heavily and gasping.

You froze on the spot when you heard a door opening and steps coming out of that place < Who’s there? > said a voice, just that of the gossipy grandmother. You wanted to die, would not talk about anything else for months. How she found you "half-naked" in the hallway of the building with a man, inflating it to make it more outrageous.

< Go back to your fucking house. > Keigo growled hard, then looked at her badly and made the old woman wince that protested returning to her house. You bit your lip when you saw this rough part of blondie, maybe this was one of the few things you wouldn’t expect from him.

His gaze returned to you and you felt so small, a prey in the jaws of his predator. < Where were we, birdies? > He said in a softer voice than the previous one, but always in mischievous tones.

Instinctively your hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him towards your lips, making you two collide. You started immediately a ravenous and wet kiss, while he took you by the thighs to wrap them in his life.

He took you inside his house, closing the door thanks to your body that now stood against the woody and smooth surface. Your hands moved between his fluffy hair and pulled them slightly making the boy moan, you panted when Keigo tightened his grip on your things, and you bit his lip slightly almost instinctively.

The blond broke away from the kiss, leaving a thread of drool between you two, and then interrupted it when he began to kiss your neck and leave small bites and hickeys. You groaned under those rough but well-balanced attentions, his fluffy lips made you feel so wet already, and the fact that you were squeezed against the wall by his toned body didn’t help to alleviate the feeling he was having in you.

Your bodies were warming up in unison as the boy began to descend on your breasts, blowing warm air over them, so many little chills ran through your body. His nimble fingers went to remove the bows on the side of your top, taking it off immediately after to lick your already hard nipples, he laughed as you trembled under his attentions.

A slight groan leaves you as his mouth began to suck that sensitive spot, the sound went straight to Keigo’s dick, the blood flowing towards the tip making it pulsate from need. The touches are anxious, hungry and hasty, probably even bruises. You got goosebumps, as your hands glide through his golden locks of hair, your hips bend against him.

A low groan escapes his lips as his hands roam your body, gliding over your curves and under your fragile shorts.

< Damn it, babybird, If you keep this up, I’m not sure I can contain myself... > he said holding his mouth over your nipple, making you moan and arch your back against him.

< Then don’t do it... > you answered breathlessly.

He took off from your breasts and climbed back to your lips, beginning yet another desperate and needy kiss as you moved to his bedroom. He laid you on his mattress and began to wind his hands all over your body, touching, stroking and touching it, while his lips ate your voraciously.

He took off right after, breathing hard and looking at your body underneath him. He took your legs and opened them to comfortably get in the way. Your toes slightly lowered his pants, letting him know he had to take them off. So he did, he took them off for you.

< Birdie, do you use protection? > he asked passing a hand through his hair, while a hand stretched towards his bedside table to retrieve a condom.

< Internal contraceptive. In case, I’m clean and- > Your breath stopped to see his cock already ready for use, hard and pulsating, pleading for attention.

< I’m sure you are, don’t worry, Kid.> he said, stopping you from giving him any explanation.

He opened the wrapper of the condom with his teeth, then threw away the plastic and put on the protection. He stood above you, beginning to kiss your wrist, going down your arm. Your body sent electric shocks to your now impatient core as you beamed at its sudden delicacy.

< I promise to be nice to you, I don’t want to hurt you. > You didn’t quite understand why he would be gentle with you, but he never had a problem banging the others until they screamed.

< Please don’t treat me any differently. I want to hear what you gave the others. I deserve it. > You said you were confident. He smirked and left a bite on your wrist, making you wince.

< fuck! > came out of your lips, then pull his hair and make him unbalance to the side.

You shoved him on the mattress and you put yourself on top of him, his hands landed on your naked hips because of the split shorts, which let you see the absence of the briefs. Keigo bit his lip and relaxed under you, tearing off your brittle shorts, remaining completely naked.

< I could even let you ride if you need for you, babybird > said grinning.

< Yeah, I need it. > You answered firmly.

Your hands wandered over his chest, rubbing your intimacies. Your breaths filled the room, as your hand slid over his body to take his intimacy in hand. You sat down when your hand accompanied his dick inside you, sliding into your wet walls.

Keigo moaned with pleasure in feeling inside you, you were so hot, pulsing and craving that your pussy was sucking his cock, making him enjoy it like few people before you. Your back arched towards him as your hips swayed over his parcel, filling you up so well.

The blond bit his lip as he squeezed your hips and guided you over him. One of his hands went to meet your pussy, looking for the clitoris to give you more pleasure; you were amazed when he found it immediately and immediately began to sink with his soft fingers.

You moaned like the worst bitch as you hopped on him and pushed your hips against his fingers to get more.

< So impatient, babybird? You like riding my dick so much. > he said mocking you. Your mind was already drunk because of his cock so good and perfect for you.

It’s been a long time since you fucked and getting back on track with a dick like that was just great. Your hands ended up one on his chest and the other on his neck, slightly tightening his grip, not enough to make him feel something but enough to make him harder under you.

You felt tired after a while, it was hard to stand on top of him when his fingers were playing with your clitoris and his dick was pumping inside you so hard, even though you were riding and deciding the shots to give.

Keigo almost understood your tiredness and promptly brought you under him, changing position to favor your orgasm. He put a pillow under your back and when he came back to you it was like the first time. A groan came out of your lips, clinging to his back with your nails, leaving slight cuts caused by your pleasure scratches.

He laughed at your reaction and started pumping into you so fast you couldn’t breathe properly anymore. Only rough and dirty groans came out of your lips as his bed began to slam repeatedly against the wall.

< We should slow down, the neighbor will complain to me again if I continue like this > He said teasing you, then slowing down. Your breath was labored, your mind was clouded, and a little scream of frustration came out of your lips.

< You never cared about the neighbor. Go on like you were doing before, fuck. > You answered sour, completely kidnapped by lust. The heat was focused on your lap as the boy slowed down on purpose.

He came up to your face, grabbed you by the neck and picked your jaw with his thumb.

< Baby, you really don’t get it? I wanted to do what I did. Look at you now, you’re in my bed getting the dick you cursed at night. > He said by making a deep blow in you, making you arch your back and moan. < I knew we would end up here one day. > the grin on his face made you bite your lip.

You punched him in the shoulder and he came out of you. He took your hips and put you on doggy style for him, your crossed hands locked against your back and face on the pillow.

He came back in and made you scream with pleasure. You started drooling against the smooth fabric of the pillow, as the man slammed his hips against you faster and faster, leaving a few spanks every now and then, his nimble fingers found your clitoris again and started playing with it again with a speed never experienced.

Your legs were shaking like your whole body, you could swear you were moaning and screaming louder than anyone else in his room. His wheezing and hoarse moans made you feel so relaxed and smug. After a few lunges with your hips you both came together, reaching a liberating orgasm.

Keigo left your hands, stroking your palms, going down to your body to help you lie on his mattress, then hear a strange squeak followed by a "Crack!".

Your eyes were wide open when you realized that the bed had broken and the guy next to you burst into a loud laugh, bringing his arm to cover his eyes.

< My sweet neighbor will be happy to never hear from my bed now that it’s broken. > He said laughing, mocking you.

< Stop! > You said blushing, then hiding in the mattress, turning on your stomach. < You’re not funny, stop! > You continued with a trembling voice.

The blond took you from your hips and approached him, stroking your hair and carrying a lock behind your hair. He kissed your neck gently and wrapped his arms around your soft hips. < Baby, I was kidding. My neighbor can’t complain if she broke my bed. He said, blowing words on your ear. < Now you still have to catch up on your sleep in the afternoon. > continued to tease you.

< Stop... You had already taken away my sleep, at least I spent my time well. > You snorted while you moaned because of his wet kisses.

< So will you stop reproaching me for my nighttime encounters? > he asked, putting his face on your neck.

< No. I still need to sleep at night, so do you. > You said and then turned to face, put your hands on his face and smiled. < You obviously need to rest, you work a lot too, you don’t need to fuck every night, yk. >

< Not even if I wanted to do it with you? It’s a good anti-stress > he answered looking at you with those honey-colored eyes, letting you melt with tenderness.

< But don’t ask me like that, not with those eyes... You got soft, biting your lip. Maybe, but I say maybe, I could agree... sometimes > you ended up getting a gentle kiss from him.

After a couple of minutes of kissing you, the guy pulled away slightly from you and stood by you, sighing as he looked up at the ceiling, and you did the same.

< So... are you the guy who sends away the girl after having fun or... > you started interrupting the silence between you < ... I mean, I’ve seen so many girls leave your house right after. I can go too if.. >

He interrupted you and looked at you < Stay. I don’t like to keep strangers in the house, but I don’t want to send you away, stay... really. I want you here > he said stroking your cheek.

You smiled and approached him, resting your head on his chest, falling asleep shortly thereafter. Keigo stroked your head with a smile, softening at the sight of you on his chest.

< If only you knew I liked you from day one. I’m so glad I got you, even for one night, the best birthday present of my life. > whispered in the air, leaving a kiss on your head and falling asleep afterwards.

--------------------------AUTHOR'S NOTE--------------------------------------------------------

I’m always late, even publishing Hawks' smut for his birthday.

Best wishes to our favorite winged hero! I hope you enjoyed the story. This is a one shoot, so I won’t continue, sorry.

Remember that requests for any character are open, of all kinds and types.

Oh, and best wishes to all my wonderful readers!

Thank you for reading,

- Mel

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piratefishmama · 11 months

Text

Beware The Thorns | Part 4

(a NSFW multi-part ficlet)

Normally, Eddie would be gone by the time he awoke, and his wallet would be a small chunk lighter. This time, Steve awoke relaxed and content to the smell of bacon sizzling on the fryer, bed still warm, a few stray brown hairs on his pillow, the night shirt Eddie had eventually draped over his tired head and slept in now draped over the chair on the far side of the room, usually pushed in beneath a large mahogany ornate desk he’d been gifted a few years prior.

He stretched his arms up, and his feet out, muscles relaxed, body relaxed, everything felt just… right.

This was what he wanted to wake up to, he knew he’d once in the very early days of their “relationship” told Eddie to leave before his alarm, he normally had engagements in the morning he needed to see to, calls to make that he didn’t want anyone eavesdropping in on, but over time… he desperately wanted to take that request back.

He just didn’t know how to without making it painfully obvious that his feelings had developed far beyond an employer/employee relationship.

He wanted Eddie there in the morning, wanted him in his kitchen, making breakfast, or even just sat on his sofa watching early morning TV eating cereal in pyjamas, he just… he wanted him there.

Maybe that was pathetic, he didn't care.

Shaking himself up a little, Steve climbed out from beneath the toasty warm covers, once stood, he stretched again, he had no early morning commitments, a follow up call in the afternoon to ensure his meeting the night previous yielded promising results, no sense beating someone to a bloody pulp if it didn’t get him exactly the result he needed.

He needed things working properly again, the man in question had been working beneath the radar, or rather, he’d ASSUMED he was working beneath the radar, syphoning profits, business contacts, easing them into a small startup of his own, trying to build his own empire out of the success of someone else’s.

It was a good idea, just executed very poorly. Trusted the wrong people, tried to sway the loyal, knowing their skills and abilities, skills and abilities built from years of working with the Harrington family.

He’d attempted to sneak them away with the promise of a higher take percentage, rather than simply hiring his own men and building from the ground up.

All it took was one of them to come forward and shine a light on the guy and the jig was up.

Unfortunately, all four of the men, and the two women he attempted to sway, came forward WITH evidence, including text messages, phone call recordings, and pictures.

Had he started from the ground up, perhaps took his business to Steve himself, requested assistance getting it started, he might have given it, supported him and his endeavours to create something for himself, but alas, he chose the slimy way to go about it, and paid the price.

He didn’t want to think about that right now though, he wanted to think about the man in his kitchen, the man currently listening to the quiet playthrough of morning radio as he cooked breakfast. Wanted to watch him from his bedroom door, lean against the frame in naught but his underwear, shame Eddie was fully dressed, but alas.

Couldn’t have everything.

“You could’ve woken me up” he spoke up from his spot by the doorframe, Eddie startling out of his focus on the pan in hand to look up, across the countertop, across the open plan living room to the doorway that lead into Steve’s room.

“Your alarm never went off, I figured you had the day off or something?” Huh, did he forget to set it? Hm, no matter, he didn’t need it that morning anyway, usually he just set it to keep a routine going. Steve pushed off from the doorway, stepping into the open living room, well-lit by the floor to ceiling windows lining the outside wall. “I was gonna bring you breakfast” Steve was soon by his side, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s soft cheek.

He didn’t seem too bothered by it though, eyes refocusing on the task at hand “Eddie after dawn and breakfast in bed, I feel spoiled” that gained a smile, small, his dimples barely even visible, but a smile nevertheless, good… but something felt off.

Maybe it was simply… having him there in the morning? Was that the difference? He couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Go on, sit down y’big sap, breakfast will be ready soon, I need to talk to you about some stuff” stuff? He was halfway turned around ready to go sit down when the ‘stuff’ hit his ears, what stuff… Eddie never had stuff he needed to talk about, the last time Eddie brought up stuff it was during the initial conversation two years ago about how their ‘relationship’ was going to go.

What was allowed, what wasn’t allowed, what he could expect, what would mean instant termination of their contracted agreement, prices… Eddie very rarely brought up ‘stuff’.

“Stuff?” He had to ask.

“Yeah, stuff, go on, sit down” he wasn’t going to elaborate yet, fine, this was fine, it wasn’t like the anxiety was already spiking, funny how a man in his line of work, strong and sometimes seen as a little larger than life, still had spikes of anxiety at even the slightest inconvenience.

Felt his heart race uncomfortably in his chest, thump erratically as if something was guaranteed to be wrong and he couldn’t fix it no matter what he did.

Did he do something wrong? Did he hurt him? No… he didn’t hurt him, he seemed fine, no bruises other than a hickey currently half hidden by the collar of his shirt, matching all the others he’d left in the late hours, mid-clean up simply revelling in the softness of Eddie’s pale, porcelain skin against his lips, he was fine last night.

Had he done something in his sleep? No, that was stupid, Eddie wasn’t actually his boyfriend, he’d never hold any dream shit against him, and even if he WAS his boyfriend, he doubted the other man would ever be that ridiculous.

“Steve?” Steve jumped as Eddie’s voice sounded from right behind him, he’d frozen, mind withdrawing into all the possibilities as to what ‘stuff’ could mean, all the negatives, maybe he knew.

Maybe he’d found one of the guns in the apartment last night, hadn’t known how to bring it up until now, maybe he’d been contacted by someone, fuck what if that slimy little shit had approached Eddie?

He’d been so CAREFUL not to share that part of his life with Eddie, he didn’t need to know where the money came from, he never asked, all he knew, and all he needed to know, was that Steve was at the very head of a corporation which dealt in manufacturing defensive gear for the military.

He knew he had his hands dipped in several charities, that his company had even helped get a few off the ground.

He didn’t need to know there were other sides to his business life, didn’t need to know that the contracts gained from the military were only a fraction of his full wage, didn’t need to know where the other much larger percentage came from. “Stevie, hey, c’mon, sit” Eddie turned the heat off, spatula down on the counter he eased Steve’s much broader body into his arms, guiding him over to the sofa to sit him down.

“W-what… what do you mean by ‘stuff?’” Eddie’s eyes seemed to flash wider for a second, just split second as he realised just what the sudden frozen panic was about.

“Fuck… okay, I was hoping to do this while you were, I dunno… fed an fully dressed I guess” would be easier that way “hey, c’mon calm down” Eddie crouched in front of his seated form, hands on his biceps just holding him steady “do you need water? Want me to finish the food for you? This is why I wanted you fed first” clearly he still cared about him… fussing over him, making sure he was okay, but… something was wrong, and Steve had no idea what it was.

“No, no just… just tell me” he would have preferred to eat first, the nervous thumping of his heart was really starting to hit the empty stomach, that harsh weight at the back of the throat when hunger was really starting to get intense only worsening with the nerves.

It was fine, totally fine, everything would be okay.

“Alright” Eddie nodded his head, rising to his full height before sitting right back down again beside Steve on the couch, hands in his lap leaving the spots on his biceps where they were moments ago feeling colder all of a sudden, Eddie didnt even run warm, just... his touch just warmed Steve.

“Due to extenuating circumstances, I am effective immediately, terminating the contract between us… I have taken payment for last night already, I won’t take anything for this morning, I think… I think it’s time we ended this arrangement before things become too complicated… don’t you?”

Part 6

#PirateWrites #BewareTheThornsFiclet #No Upside Down AU #Steddie #Escort!Eddie #Shady!Steve

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jellieland · 1 year

Text

Cub is starting to feel like he isn’t a very popular person at the moment.

It’s odd. People give him wary looks, and step back when he steps closer, and politely end conversations with him. But everyone seems very hesitant to actually say anything about whatever it is that’s bothering them so much.

It's true that it is, on occasion, a little difficult to concentrate on what people are saying. His hearing has been a lot sharper recently, especially with the extensions of himself that he’s placed around the server to help spread the skulk. But unfortunately, given how widespread they are now, it has become quite difficult to concentrate on any specific sounds – even, on occasion, those being made right in front of him.

Still, even without any specifics, he’s been starting to get the feeling that he isn’t exactly… welcome, here.

He’d seen False, the other day, in Hermitopia. As far as he can tell, she’s appointed herself as protector of the hermits. He doesn’t think she’s consulted anyone else about this.

Not that he needs any protecting, obviously. Why would he? He can take care of himself.

But that… look that she’d given him. He’d almost turned around, at first, as though she might be looking at someone behind him.

There was no need for that, though. If there was someone behind him, he’d have heard them.

False, though. Back to False.

He’d never seen her look at him like that before. Not even in the worst moments of the Convex.

It was a calculating look. As though every moment, she was considering the best way to strike, and weighing it against the danger of overextending herself. The kind of look you might give an unnervingly powerful mob, perhaps. But one he'd never seen her give to Doc, or to Cleo. The kind of look you give to something other.

“Hey, False!” He called, and smiled.

Her eyes narrowed. “Hey Cub.” Her voice was controlled and level. “What’s up?”

“Oh not much, not much. Just the usual – spread the souls, spread the skulk, you know how it is.” He held out a few skulk catalysts. “Care to join me?”

“I… No. No, I’ve got- other plans, sorry.” She took a step back, but kept her eyes fixed on him. “Why don’t you… go do that, then.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.” It was harsh. Sharp. After a moment, she seemed to realise this. “I mean- fine. I’ll let you know.” It was less a peace offering to a friend than it was a deliberate concession to an enemy. He knows how to tell the difference.

“Good, good. That’s good to know.” Just because she’d decided she didn’t like him anymore for some reason, didn’t mean he had to follow suit.

She watched him from a distance, eyes like ice, until he left.

She watched him like a tightly wound spring, like a coiled snake.

But she did not strike.

So, yeah. That has been a little odd.

He thinks that if it weren’t for his newfound lease on life recently, that incident would have rattled him. So it’s a good job he doesn’t have to worry about that.

It still seemed worth investigating, though, if it made people less willing to embrace the skulk as they should.

So then, there was the incident with Xisuma.

This one, he thinks, was the most confusing of the lot.

There were some more looks – some from Jevin, Oli and Sausage as well – when they fought the withers together.

He was fairly confident that Xisuma wasn’t the biggest fan of the skulk. At least – he had been fairly confident.

But it wasn’t Cub who suggested trying to spread the skulk further in the End with a sweeping edge sword and some endermen.

And even after that, he’s pretty sure Xisuma’s been removing a fair amount of the skulk around Hermitopia.

There had been Impulse, too, unnerved and wary, asking Cub to dispose of parts of himself safely, rather than taking them and doing it himself.

And with all this came a growing… not discomfort. Why would he be uncomfortable? More a curiosity. How, after all, was he supposed to change their minds if he didn’t know their minds?

Joe- Joe was his friend, he had thought. Joe would get it.

And then he did.

It felt a little like missing a step, although to be fair that wasn’t necessarily uncommon in interactions with Joe.

He hinted, and Joe nodded and went along with it and was appropriately impressed.

Later, he was sold back the parts of himself that Joe had unearthed, both of them quite clear about where they had come from, and told that he could do whatever he liked with them as long as they didn’t end up back in Pix’s area.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Joe did tend to enjoy seeing where the chaos went. Why would he even want to intervene?

But then there are still sometimes those looks. When Cub is adding more skulk catalysts around Hermitopia, and Joe is quickly ducking in and out of the place because it’s not one hundred percent clear whether he's still an enemy of the state at this point or not.

When they’re doing that.

Sometimes Joe looks at him like he wouldn’t mind it if none of the Hermits told Cub when they left.

Sometimes, when he forgets himself a little, Cub wonders whether any of them would, anymore.

It seems like a double standard. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, he’s sure. He hasn’t found it yet, though.

Why, if he didn’t have the skulk to keep him company, he might even be feeling a little hurt lonely irritated.

It takes Xisuma replacing the entire floor of the tower for him to start to understand.

They say they hate it. Oh they say they hate it. Not out loud to him, most of the time, but they do. But they never get the roots.

They clear it away, and they leave the surface clean and new, or they leave it unrecognizably maimed by the scars they made themselves. Some of them even dig up the catalysts. But none of them get the roots, because Cub is still here, and so it will always come back.

None of them have even tried.

So that can’t hate it that much, can they?

They just don’t want it near them.

Well, he thinks.

Too bad.

He’s not very good at giving up.

#hermitcraft #empires smp #cubfan135 #falsesymmetry #xisuma #joe hills #i just think the way everyone's been dancing around cub while saying 'someone should do something about that' is worth exploring.#and if you think for too long about how many people have suggested just making him someone else's problem #well.#obviously it's a joke.#i just think it's interesting to consider is all #my writing

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year

Text

Your Captain

Engineer Mark x gn!reader

Requested by Anon:

"Sweet! Can i request a angst and fluff fic with engineer mark? Where captain overworks themselves, not taking care of themselves at all, marks sees it but doesn't want to bother them too much about it

And eventually they get really sick and collapse infront of mark

With angst prompts #12 and #17 thank youuuu"

12. "You could have died."

17. "No, no, no, you can't close your eyes right now!"

Tbh this fic started as a completely different concept but I think it fit really well with this request so yah

Warnings: loss of identity, mentions of the warp core events, mentions of death, overworking, exhaustion, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 3906

Masterlist

Tag List Form

The realization is slow. Not in the way a predator creeps on an unsuspecting victim. Nor in the way an illness would, slowly taking over your body and mind until you can no longer ignore your decreasing abilities. No. It’s not even noticeable at first. Little hints here and there, indicative of something bigger.

And then it dawned on you. Suddenly. Like a spark igniting a rampant fire.

It happened when you looked up. The sky was different here. Strange. Nothing like Earth’s. There were no constellations - at least not yet. Two moons circled and twirled around the planet. Your new home.

You had neglected to look up since you landed. You couldn’t blame anyone. There was simply too much to do - buildings in need of building, resources to discover and study, maps to draw up of the surrounding area. Not only that, you joined your leads wherever you could.

You assisted Celci as she and her team revived colonists. You welcomed each new citizen with a smile and Welcome to our new planet! All 100,000 of them. Celci told you to take a break, get a nap, eat something. You would argue that everyone deserved to be welcomed, and it helped you get a grasp on just how many carpenters, engineers, scientists, medics, gun hands and others there actually were. She gave you a worried and disapproving side eye, but she couldn’t do anything to stop you.

Gunther worked to set up a perimeter where the first buildings could be set up. You helped to plan out which buildings went where, and exactly where your borders should be laid. And when he started setting up armed droids to keep an eye out for raging wildlife that could threaten your new beginnings? You were all too happy to put yourself to work, hauling the heavy automechanicals to each designated spot. If he made a comment about exerting yourself, you ignored it and kept on working.

Burt, with the lack of necessity for warp-core engineering (the thought made you flinch), helped out in home-building. He acted as foreman, making sure each sheet of metal had its place. As the framework finished, he and his team went in to affix lights and other electronic necessities. A few engineers even took plumbing jobs. (There was, unfortunately, a lack of those sent over from Earth.) Quiet as he was, the only time he pointed out your willingness to dive head first and help build foundations, framework and walls, was in a poetic waxing after a rather large building neared completion. You said it was a beautiful poem, but you didn’t quite understand its meaning. (You did.)

And Mark. Oh, god, Mark. With each new job you threw yourself into, he was always right there, running around like a headless chicken trying to help. If you were building a wall, he was right behind you (sometimes even right next to you, holding the metal in place as you bolted it in), keeping you up to date with the progress of the colony, messages from Earth, and other such things. He worried over you the most out of anyone else.

You couldn’t blame him, honestly. After the… adventure you both went on, you wouldn’t give yourself the time of day to even close your eyes. Once dark settled in, you threw yourself into paperwork and managerial nonsense. You couldn’t stop.

It had been one of these nights when you realized. You just finished talking to Celci, discussing the discoveries being made. The scientists just started working with the security crew to go out on excursions to study the flora and fauna. They just brought back a strange plant that they believed could be medicinal. It was exciting, truly.

But Celci had been short with the discussion. She had her arms crossed the whole time, shutting down branching topics with quick retorts. You need rest, she’d scolded. She shoved a protein bar in your hand and sent you to your tent, with orders not to do any work tomorrow. When you tried to protest, she enacted a rule that stated she - as lead officer for medical - could confine you to your quarters if you were not at your peak health, physical or otherwise. You couldn’t argue with her, and so trudged like a pouting child toward the temporary camp of tents everyone was staying in.

That’s when you looked up. You stopped, staring at the unfamiliar stars, the strange moons that lacked craters. The Invincible could just be seen, hovering in the atmosphere. You were waiting for orders from Earth to know what to do with her. You refused to dismantle the grand spaceship. Most likely, it would continue to remain high above the planet, run by a skeleton crew. Forever up there. Alone.

That is when the realization overcame you.

It was slow. And then it all came crashing down over top of you like a tsunami. A growing sense of guilt filled your chest. Was that it? Guilt. No, maybe it was… loss. Yes. A powerful sense of grief within you, bubbling to the surface.

Maybe it had always been there. You couldn’t rightly tell. But it was powerful. It grew, bubbling like a thick paste within you until it reached your tear ducts and buckled your knees. The ground was warm beneath you, and the sky full of strange new stars blurred into a swirl of watercolors. Maybe this was how Van Gogh saw the world. Through tears.

“Captain?”

Your lip trembled. You couldn’t look at him.

A warm body knelt next to you on the ground. His dark eyes burned into your skin, searching desperately for answers. Why were you crying? Why were you sitting out in the middle of the camp, staring at the sky? When he glanced up, following your gaze, he caught sight of the Invincible. He mentally damned the ship.

Was it because of the ship that you were crying? Far too often to be healthy, he, too, stared up at the ship. He remembered the warp core. The mistakes he made, and the ones he caused.

He had no idea what you saw up there. You never spoke about it. Now he wished he had. He wished he asked. He wished he knew what worlds, what alternate realities, what different timelines you’d witnessed. Maybe then he could understand what was wrong.

“Cap…?”

Your eyes were red now. Your face crinkled with grief and sorrow, fighting back the onslaught of tears. You gasped in a shaky breath. Out came a whisper. He thought, perhaps, you would tell him about the things you’d seen. You witnessed thousands of deaths; he had, too. But that was not what came out of your mouth.

“I don’t remember my name.”

Mark was stunned. Shock and confusion overtook his body. Your name? Well, of course, your name was… It’s…

Confused and frustrated, he remembered the IDs on file for every single crew member. He sifted through so many every day, trying to keep track of who was who. It took a few taps on his wrist pad to pull up your ID. He skimmed it for himself before holding out his arm to show you.

The image was fairly recent, only from a few months ago. But you looked… brighter. Hopeful. Determined. Your hair was a little shorter then, too. The bags under your eyes from rigorous study weren’t as prominent as they were now. You looked like a hollow shell of who you once were.

And, yes, that was your name. Or… was it? Was it really your name after everything that had happened?

No. That was their name.

You shook your head and furiously wiped at the tears on your cheeks. Every crass name, criminal title, and disparaging nickname flooded your mind. No. They didn’t have those titles. They didn’t deserve the hatred and vitriol that followed you through that wormhole. They were not the Captain. And you were not them.

“That’s not my name anymore,” you croaked. You shook your head again. You looked like a child having a breakdown in kindergarten over a broken toy. “That’s- That’s not me anymore.”

Mark couldn’t say he really understood why. The image of you, all crooked grins and academy-fresh confidence, was you. He remembered you gushing to him over flying your first airplane, and going through the rigorous training of outer-space flying. He remembered because it was you who gave him the idea for all those stupid windows. When you gushed over being so close to the night sky you felt you could reach out and pluck Polaris right out of the inky black.

But when he looked from the picture to you? He was reminded of the hardships. How you jumped from universe to universe, wracking up casualties, just to save him. And he started to get it. You went through too much to be even near the same plane of existence as your young, naive self.

“Who am I, Mark?”

When you fell to press your face unceremoniously into his shoulder, he wasted no time wrapping you up in his arms. The ID flickered away as the screen turned off. He tried to hold on tight enough to physically stop you from shaking with your sobs, but it was impossible.

“You’re our Captain.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. But they were the only words he could find.

Anybody who passed by pretended they didn’t see anything. He hoped, anyway. He couldn’t meet their eyes. All he could do was hold on, as you had done for him once. Your sobs turned into stifled cries, and then only whimpers. He wasn’t concerned at first. In fact, he was a little relieved you were beginning to calm down. Until you became completely limp in his hold.

Even then, he still paused a second, before pulling you back until he could see your face. Had your skin always been so dull?

He shook you slightly. Maybe you were just sleeping, right? Your eyelids didn’t even flutter. Panic shot through his heart.

He shook you again, harder this time. No response.

“Captain?” Another shake, perhaps a little more vigorously than he intended. Your body was a rag doll, flopped in his lap. “No, no, no, you can’t close your eyes right now!”

His mind, scared and jumping to all the worst conclusions, raced to figure out what to do. He laid you on the ground and pressed an ear against your chest.

…

……

Okay. There’s a heartbeat. A little weaker than he thought was normal, but it was there. And your chest was moving, albeit slowly, with each breath. He pulled away. His hands, calloused with years of fiddling with wires and heavy machinery, floundered in the air. He didn’t know what to do.

Desperate cries for help, for Cici, for anyone were ripped from his lungs. He was gasping for air by the time half the camp rushed out to see what the commotion was. He couldn’t catch his breath until you were safe again.

He just needed you to be safe.

Word spread about the Captain’s health quickly. Mark couldn’t say he was surprised. Actually, he was sort of embarrassed.

That night - almost a week ago now - Celci had rushed to his side. She was the rational and cool-headed one. She commanded medics to grab a stretcher, to ready an IV, prepare a bed and equipment. All the while he screeched like a banshee, whaling for his old friend.

Uncharacteristically, though, she didn’t say a word about it. Nobody did. (Or, at least, not when he was within earshot.) She grabbed him a chair, some water and snacks, even a blanket. And as he sat by the Captain’s side, a permanent frown etched within his features, she kept him up to date on your condition and on the colony.

He knew his fears were wholly rational. After jumping through wormholes and witnessing first hand what consequences it brought, it was only natural for him to fret over the permanence of life now.

How stupid he’d been. Really. How many times did he grab your hand and jump back into the wormhole? More than he could count on one hand. The way he would be torn apart by a black hole or exploded by a supernova, and still step out of that pod with a giddy little grin, asking, almost begging, the Captain to jump in again. And again. And again.

Vaguely he remembered an airlock.

Neither of you were immortal now. Honestly, he hated immortality. It seems to amazing in theory…

He drags a hand down his face with a sigh. His shoulders are hunched. He leans his elbows against the edge of your bed.

He’s tired. Not like before. This wasn’t an exhaustion fueled by some silly false heroics or nonstop building of a catalyst to all your issues. No. He was exhausted with worry, and fear, and- God, emotions he didn’t even have words for. It all sat heavy in his soul.

Guilt, he decided to call it. But different. Guilt if it was slightly to the left.

Celci told him you just passed out from exhaustion and overworking yourself. Maybe he felt guilty for not picking up on it sooner, or for stopping you before it got so bad. It’s not as if the bags under your eyes were invisible, or that the way you carelessly rushed in to help every single person in need was subtle. He should have noticed.

Maybe then you would remember your name. Or, he thought back to your ID, believe you’re still you.

He wished his mind could shut up, for once.

A distraction. That’s what he needed, yeah.

He dragged his eyes from your face to your monitor. He was never very good with medical stuff. The numbers were odd. Was that blood pressure normal? Too high? Too low? Hell if he knew. Was your heart beating fast enough?

He contemplated for a brief moment the components that went into a monitor like that. The wires, connectors, screws, bolts, etc. And then he remembered this machine was making sure you were still alive. The idea of dismantling it was no longer appealing.

He turned to the IV next. A slow, continuous drip of fluids, hooked up to your arm. Needles always gave him a bad feeling. He felt nauseous looking at it.

Strange flowers caught his attention next. There were no roses or tulips or irises out here. Just… Well, they didn’t have names yet. The exobiologists were working on formulating latin names, genuses, and everything else that came with cataloging different flora. They were still beautiful, he couldn’t deny it. Bright orange petals with neon blue stamens that glowed at night. Razor-leaved stems that started as purple by the bloom and morphed into an odd black hue. They looked poisonous, actually. He was sure they wouldn’t be allowed in here if that was the case.

Paper was becoming a luxury at this point. Not that it mattered much, with everything accessible at the press of a button on their wrists. Still, they thought it would be best to ration out the remaining scraps throughout the colony. And everyone, seemingly unanimously, decided to use the rare material to write get well soon cards.

The little folds of parchment filled every possible surface. With 100,003 people writing get well and thank you, at some point the excess of good will notes had to be tucked away in a bin to be read later. He caught a nurse, once, rotating out the cards.

His frown softened when he thought of the very human way in which they cared about you. How human to utilize a precious resource just to say Thank you, wake up soon. How human to see something beautiful in nature, and to display it tenderly next to you. We found something beautiful, it made us think of you. How very human for those who stopped by, who saw him ever at your side like a steadfast protector, rested a hand on his shoulder or patted him on the back. You are not alone in your pain.

He wished, desperately, that you could be awake to witness the love humanity so freely handed out. Maybe then you could rediscover who you were.

“You look like shit.”

Mark startled awake. When did he fall asleep? Ah, dammit, it was dark outside. He must have been out for hours. He scrubbed at the exhaustion crusting his eyelids shut.

Wait…

His body froze. He was too scared to breathe. His heart was racing.

He couldn’t have heard that. He couldn’t have.

Heart in his throat, he slowly removed his hand from his eye and dragged his eye along your frame, still tucked safely under the blanket. Sure enough, when he finally reached your face, there was a smug grin waiting for him.

And with a jolt, his body came back to life.

You watched, half-amused as Mark threw himself from his chair to press a Call Nurse button on the opposite side of your bed. His eyes were wide and frantic. His hair was a mess. Bags under his eyes carried the weight of the world, tears of relief slipping down his cheeks before he could even think to stop them.

“You’re- You’re awake!” he croaked. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your shoulders. They were trembling.

You tried to reach up to hold onto his shoulder, maybe even his face to feel his concerning amount of stubble, but it felt so heavy. You held onto his forearm instead. “How long-?”

Celci came storming in, looking about as frantic as Mark, but better put together. Once she saw you were conscious, her expression morphed to be somewhere between joy and fury. Uh oh.

“Captain!” The only freedom from her intense stare came when she checked your vitals. Mark backed away so she had plenty of room to do so, but he kept a hand on one of your shoulders. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet. “I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’, but I told you this was going to happen if you kept pushing yourself so hard!”

“What exactly happened?”

The cryonics lead faltered. Mark gave her a pleading look. She realized, for the first time since stepping in here, that he had been- no, was crying. She had never seen him cry before.

Celci sighed and tapped a few things into her wrist pad. “I’m assigning you to bedrest and low-effort work until you decide to put your needs before those of the colony.” She leveled you with a concerned stare. “The colony needs you, Captain. You can’t be everywhere at once, helping with every last fiber of your being, no matter how much you want to. Let the rest of us carry the responsibilities we were sent here to carry.”

Mark turned away to wipe away his tears before she could glare at him next and give him a lecture, too. She huffed, nodded to you with a Captain, and left.

The air was thick. Things unsaid hung around in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam - everywhere you look and hard to ignore.

Mark didn’t look at you as he tried to gather himself together. The motes would continue lingering until he was ready to answer your questions.

Deciding to give him some space (as much as you could while bedridden), you looked to the side. The hordes of cards was utterly overwhelming. Each one was different from the next. Some had Captain written on the front in neat cursive, heavy-handed scrawls, or chicken scratch. Some people did their ‘C’s differently, or slurred their writing together in their plain-text handwriting. Other cards simple said Get well soon! or Feel better! You could see small paragraphs of writing inside the folds.

A rush of warmth flooded your chest. All of the command leads, all of the colonists - everyone thought about you. Maybe the idea of being thought of was just so foreign, but you didn’t think in any earnest capacity that this many people would care. The Leads, sure, you spent so much time with them up on the ship (more than they realized), but the most contact the vast majority of the colonists had with you was the simple welcome you gave them as they were thawed. And yet. Despite it all. Everyone had left a card.

Everyone cared about you.

The warm feeling in your chest turned sour as you remembered your conversation with Mark last night. (Was it last night?) The way the stars glimmered back without a care for you. The way you squeezed that protein bar so tight it became mush in its package. The way Mark held you.

I don’t remember my name.

Who am I, Mark?

You squeezed his arm, as much as you could in your weakened state.

You’re our Captain.

Reddened eyes met yours. His eyes were so dark, but they held a thousand thoughts, emotions, and ideas behind them. You remembered looking into those eyes, as you held onto him, refused to let him go even as he called you hateful names and ripped the crystal from your palm.

“You’ve been asleep for a week.” He sniffed. His hand trembled as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Cici said… You were overworking yourself, pushing yourself past your limit just to be there for everybody, and you weren’t taking care of yourself like you should have been and she said-” He swallowed thickly, fighting to speak through the lump in his throat. “You could have died.”

Oh. It had been that bad? You couldn’t recall feeling weak. Though, maybe it was from the endless running you did during the warp core fiasco. How long had you been awake during that endless nightmare? Your body had recovered once the cycle was broken, but your mind…

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could say. His shoulders fell. “I didn’t…” Your voice was quiet, almost too soft to be a whisper. As if you were afraid to say what was on your mind. “When we were in the wormhole, I was so tired. We both were. But it’s like, I don’t even know what it’s like to feel tired anymore, because nothing compares to what happened.”

You looked up at him, like a child seeking approval. In your eyes, he saw universes colliding, supernovas, and someone who never gave up hope. For the briefest hint of a second, he saw that same determined graduate from the ID.

“Does that make sense?”

He nodded without thinking. His hand left your shoulder, following the length of your arm to hold your hand. You didn’t have gloves on. It was… odd. He ignored the calloused scar that brushed against his palm. “I feel the same. I remember building the… it. I didn’t sleep at all, then. And now that I can, it feels… wrong. I’m not tired, but I am. I can’t explain it better than that.”

“I think we both need a nap.”

He huffed. It was nice to see him smile again. “On your orders, Captain.” His grin flickered, eyes darkened. “If you’d like, you can choose a different name. It wouldn’t be too hard to change your ID.”

“No,” you said. You smiled. “You were right, all along.”

“About what?”

“I’m your Captain.”

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@hyperfixat

@cryptidjester

@your-voice-is-mellifluous

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brienneoftarth1989 · 4 months

Text

Undercover part 7

Miranda Hilmarson x fem reader

Previous / Next / Series

Summary: You let Miranda cool down for a bit before going to her room to apologise to her. Your intention was never to upset her. You barged in on her changing which revealed the undercover mic under her clothes. She was a fucking cop!

Warnings: gangs, violence

Requests open

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You had finally finished up with your friend in the white room and knew you were definitely finished with him. You had all the information you needed so the only thing left to do was clean up and get this motherfucker back to his gang.

Normally you would get someone else to do this part of the work but you were currently so pissed out that you didn’t want to speak to anyone at the moment. You knew you needed to apologise to Miranda but while you were still mad it was a very risky move.

You grabbed some of your tools and started to wipe the blood off them. The last thing you needed was to have your tools covered in blood. Doesn’t give much of a good impression, not that anyone really cared. With your tools now all cleaned you placed them back into the torture box ready for their next use.

You picked up the box of tools before leaving the white room and heading up to your office to put your tools in their safe place. It wouldn’t bother you if they got stolen but you do like to know where they are at all times just in case you need them. That’s why you always left them in the same place.

With them now in their home you went to grab some cleaning supplies before heading back to the white room. You got some strange looks from your fellow crew most likely wondering why on earth you were doing the clean up instead of someone else. They knew you were most likely pissed off because you only do jobs like this when you're annoyed.

That is why they left you be. With yourself back in the white room you got back to work cleaning the mess you made. This was the only problem with the white room; it got dirty real quick. You immediately got to cleaning everything up. You started with the table wiping down the dried blood that had come off the tools.

You then untied your victim and just left him on the floor so he was out of the way. You wiped down the chair he had been sitting on before placing it on top of the table. Now comes the long task. You filled a bucket up with bleach before diluting it with a little bit of water so it wouldn’t damage the walls.

You got to work cleaning the walls while you had some music playing in the background. The current song playing was the last great America dynasty which had to be one of your favourites. As the time went by you found yourself slowly getting the job done. After a good two hours you could finally say the white room was back to white.

You gathered up the cleaning supplies and took them back to the storage cupboard. On your way back you happened to come across Raphael. “Hey can you give me a hand with the one still in the white room?” You asked him.

“Sure thing boss” Raphael responded as he made his way over to you. The two of you headed into the white room to sort out the last thing that was in there. Before you could start lifting up the bloke Raphael started to talk. “What happened earlier between you and Miranda?” He asked somewhat curiously.

“Oh so you heard about that?” You responded. “Unfortunately I think everyone heard that argument. So what exactly happened?” He asked. “I gave her a show. Most people that work for me would love to see something like that but instead she told me I was sick in the head for what I did to him and that there were better ways around it” you sighed visibly upset.

“You like her don’t you?” Raphael responded. You looked shocked as if what he just told you was utter rubbish. However, that was far from the truth. You did like her and you thought what you did would maybe impress her. “Look boss I don’t care if you do like Miranda but just be careful. For whatever reason I just have a funny feeling about her” Raphael responded.

“Oh whatever Raphael” you replied not wanting to listen to what he was saying. “Come on, can you give me a hand with this?” You asked as you pointed down to the bloke laying on the floor. “Yeah sorry boss” he replied as he helped you pick the man off the floor and carry him to the back of your truck.

“Alright I’m off to go and drop this one off at his gang and then I’m going to grab some food so I will speak to you lot later. If you need me for any reason then just give me a call” you told Raphael as you jumped into your truck.

You put the destination in the satnav and started on your drive to their hideout. You turned up the radio to find the way I loved you was playing. Such a typical song for how you were feeling right now. You continued to drive around as you made your way deeper into the city and into another rough part of town.

When you finally arrived at their hangout you were quick to pull up, tossed the bloke onto their drive before speeding away but not before shouting “have this motherfucker back!” You watched in your rearview mirror to see two of the gang members look at your truck before quickly attending to their mate.

That will show them not to mess with you or your gang again. With that now sorted you decided to quickly swing home to freshen up. You hadn’t had a chance to shower or even change clothes which was very much needed if you were wanting to pick up some dinner.

As soon as you arrived home you were quick to start a small fire in the fire pit. Once it was roaring you stripped out of your clothes and placed them in the fire. You had plenty of money to replace them plus it got rid of any evidence and DNA. While the small fire was going and burning the evidence you headed upstairs to have a shower.

You didn’t want to hang around too long as you had places to be but you knew you needed to let the fire burn a little bit longer so you decided to do your full cleaning routine especially as you had blood on you. You turned the shower on so it was nice and hot. You have always loved a nice hot shower.

You got your waterproof speaker and placed it in the shower before connecting your phone. The first song that came blaring out was suburban legends. Another favourite of yours. You then got started cleaning yourself.

You started with washing your hair with shampoo before rinsing it out to then wash it with conditioner. With your hair now clean you started with your skin routine on your face. You started with one that helps remove excess oils, then one that targets white heads and then one that targets blackheads.

With your face now cleaned there was one last thing you needed to do which was wash your body. You made sure you were nice and clean before washing away all the soap and getting out of the shower.

You made your way to your bedroom to get changed before quickly doing something with your hair. You didn’t want to do anything too fancy as it would just take too long to do. Once you were sorted you made your way back outside to see what the fire was doing.

It was almost burnt out but you could tell it was still very much hot. Once it was cooled you would bag it up and then spread it at one of the local campsites in the other fire pits. Pretty genius to be honest.

You decided on having five guys for dinner so you got back in your truck and made your way over to the nearby five guys. As soon as you got there you went straight to the drive thru to order your food.

You decided to order two cheeseburgers, two grilled cheeses, two portions of chips and two salted caramel milkshakes. You decided to get two of what you ordered because you really wanted to surprise Miranda.

You had been thinking a lot about what happened and you realised that maybe you were a jerk and you shouldn’t have assumed that she would have liked the show you put on for her. Therefore a nice food surprise would hopefully cheer her up and you could find the time to apologise to her.

With food now in your car, you drove down to the warehouse where you knew Miranda would be. You were honestly excited to see her and you only could hope that she would like your surprise. When you arrived you quickly parked up the truck before heading inside.

You made your way straight to Miranda’s room which you gifted her when she first arrived. You tend to offer your best employees with rooms in case they want to hang around or stay the night. Miranda got hers purely because you had feelings for her but that’s besides the point.

You knocked on the door and let yourself in not even waiting for an answer. What a rookie mistake. You were greeted by a half dressed Miranda with something hanging on her chest. “Is that a mic?” You asked her as you looked at her to see wires on her.

Miranda just looked at you in shock, scared about what you might do. “For fuck sake Miranda is that a fucking mic?” You screamed at her. You felt so betrayed. You trusted her. You really liked her and she was ratting you out to someone.

You stormed over to Miranda as you tackled her to the ground. “Please wait y/n! I can explain!” She begged you. “Yeah you have a lot of explaining to do!”

“Raphael!” You screamed to which he came running in. “What is it boss?” He asked before examining the scene in front of him. “Help me take her to the white room” you replied.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #constable miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake china girl #police #undercover #undercover series #gangs #violence #threats of violence #brienneoftarth1989

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

Text

Inspired by @valadarts on Twitter

Four Little Words

Soap never felt like he belonged anywhere. Sooner or later people would always tire of him and his antics. Whether they were family or friends, eventually everyone got tired of the energy ball that was John MacTavish.

After being thoroughly beaten, and banished from his home in Glasgow after his father caught him kissing a boy: Soap attempted to join the military. His first few attempts were unsuccessful, but eventually he managed to get in. Unfortunately, even trained as a demolitions expert Soap still had too much energy. After irritating his third bunk mate in a row Soap learned to tone it down, being only slightly annoying, carefully reserved. Until he got comfortable.

That's how it always started if he was being honest. Unfortunately, Soap had always been an honest person. He knew why he had been removed from his last team—he was too annoying. He had gotten too comfortable with them. Too close. All of his previous teammates told him so:

John talks too much. John's too clingy. John is so annoying. John should just shut up. Don't invite John, he's too excitable. John isn't worth it.

Soap had taken the first beating in the military with ill grace, going straight to his superior to report it only to be chewed out for annoying his teammates into doing it to him. The second time, when they held him down with his sheets, and bludgeoned him with soap bars in their pillow cases Soap bit his lip so hard it bled. He didn’t bother telling his CO the next morning. He didn’t bother tending to the many black and blue bruises that littered his body. Soap had doubted then that the nurses in medical would give him or his injuries a second glance. So when his CO told him he was no longer a good fit for their team Soap accepted it quietly.

When Price snatched him up immediately after Soap took it as his second chance. Accepting the position eagerly, Soap met the first of his new teammates: Ghost. Ghost was a mysterious man. Stoic to say the best, cold at worst, but Soap was pleased as punch to meet him. Greeting the Lieutenant with a soft punch to the shoulder Soap eagerly offered to save him a seat. Ghost didn’t seem particularly keen on his new Sergeant, but Soap didn’t take it personally.

Instead he worked slowly to open the older man up. Ghost reciprocated slowly with his awful dad jokes—then there was Las Almas. Soap thought his CO had finally started warming up to him after Ghost helped remove the bullet from his arm.

The fact followed him like a living shadow made Soap feel like the man actually cared. Ghost had even taken to calling him ‘Johnny’---something Soap never allowed anyone else to do. Soap had to admit his crush on the lieutenant was a little pathetic, but he kept himself in check. Most of the time.

Every so often Ghost would cross an invisible line and brush his bare hand against Soap’s. Or would leave a hand resting on Soap just a tad longer than necessary. Soap adored these touches, these small embraces. He felt comfortable in them.

That’s where Soap messed up. He got comfortable. He felt safe. He felt wanted.

—-----------------------------------------

They were out at the local pub after a successful mission. Soap sat next to Ghost at the bar enjoying the older man's company, and chatting away amicably. Ghost's eyes gleamed in the low bar light. He looked bemused. Happy for once.

Then Soap screwed it all up: he opened his mouth.

"Hey, I've been thinking about us." Soap said with one hand around his drink and the other laying, he hoped, casually on the bar.

"Us?" Ghost hummed, swirling his bourbon in one hand. He turned to look at Soap over his shoulder. "What about us? You've been a great teammate if that's what you mean."

"Common Si, you know what I'm talking abo–"

"NO." Ghost growled. "I don't think I do."

"W-what do you mean?" Soap asked quietly, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

"Exactly what I said." Ghost snapped. He kept his eyes down, examining the now half empty glass.

"Si…you can't be serious." Soap gave a nervous chuckle. "Think about us–"

"THERE IS NO US MACTAVISH." Ghost snarled, getting to his feet. Soap could feel the pain in his chest as his heart broke. "I'm heading home now; it's late." Soap could feel the silent tears slipping down his face. "Get home safe, Sergeant." Ghost's voice softened, only slightly, and then he was gone.

Soap didn't acknowledge Ghost's statement. How could he? 'Get home safe.' Sounded like a cruel joke to Soap as he sat there the last of his scotch watering down considerably the longer he sat. He couldn't bring himself to lift the glass to his lips. To drink the burning liquid, and chase away his pain.

Instead Soap sat there until the bar closed. The bartender gently showed him out. She apologized, and said she hoped he made it home okay. Soap didn't acknowledge her statement either. He was too numb. The night air was cool against his skin. Ignoring the well meant suggestions of getting a ride, Soap started back to the base on foot. It would take at least an hour.

Not that anyone would notice. No one would care that annoying John 'Soap' MacTavish was late. Or missing…not even Ghost. Especially not Ghost. Soap felt the tears begin anew. He sniffled as he angrily wiped the tears away. No one would care, he cried. They didn't want to know. He wouldn't let them know.

An eternity later Soap collapsed into his bunk freezing. Curling beneath the thin blanket he fell into a fitful sleep.

—-----------------------------------------------------

He snuck around the offices with his hand gun at the ready. Hissan would not escape him this time. He had stopped the missile, now he would stop the man. A sudden crack, a blinding pain in his temple, and the world went black.

He could feel himself being dragged. Jagged pieces of glass cut into his hands and bare arms as he fought the grip on his vest. In the distance he could hear gunshots. Fighting against the hand that held him, Soap jerked as the large window loomed nearby—the glass long since shattered.

"No, no, not again." Soap whined. Where was his rifle? His body hurt so bad. There was a hand wrapped around his vest dragging him forward. Black gloves with white accents covered the fingers….no that wasn’t right. Hissan wasn’t wearing gloves when he— Soap's eyes snapped up. A dark skull-plate mask stared down at him. Ghost lifted him to the window. Soap could feel the void behind him yawning wide to accept him. Accept his death. Soap struggled clawing at Ghost's forearm.

"Ghost?!" Soap panicked. "Ghost please, don't!"

Ghost glared at him through the sockets of his mask.

“Ghost please!” Soap wept. “I’m sorry, please, please, don’t—”

Ghost threw Soap out onto the pavement below.

Soap screamed.

—-------------------------------------------------

Soap shot up out of bed, a scream lodged in his throat. Acid churned in his stomach clawing its way up his throat. Soap rolled quickly to the side he grabbed the small bed by his end table and threw up noisily into it. Soap's throat was raw - he must have been screaming - his heart hammered painfully in his chest. Gasping, Soap pulled back onto the bed just far enough to bury his face in the crook of his arm.

What the hell? He hadn't dreamed of Chicago in months. He attempted to swallow, but found his throat was too sore, and his skin felt too sensitive. As though there was a thin layer of electricity keeping his nerves on a razor's edge. Soap felt a shiver wrack his body.

He was damp, covered in a cold sweat. Despite the heat of the base, Soap shivered. Rubbing a calloused hand through his mohawk, Soap tried to ground himself. The clock on his bedside table told him it was only a few minutes after two in the morning. Feeling the tackiness of his own sweat, Soap knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep easily.

So instead he grabbed his shower bag, rolled up his sheets, and made his way to the basement laundry. Chucking his sheets into the wash with some detergent Soap left his sheets to wash, and made his way to the communal showers. No one in their right mind would be up this early. Soap was fairly certain he would have the showers, and the hot water to himself for at least another two hours. Not that he intended to shower that long, but he needed to get out of his head.

—---------------------------------------------------

Scrubbed raw head to toe, and neatly dressed in his fatigues, Soap was the first to arrive in the mess. A first for him. Usually Ghost was the first to arrive. The giant of a lieutenant would sit in the comfortable silence at their table, carefully selected in the back of the room where he could see both entrances, a hot tea in hand. It used to be a comforting thought.

Making a fresh pot of coffee, Soap prepared himself a mug, and sat down at their usual table. However, instead of taking his normal seat- which would have been to the right of Ghost - he took Gaz's usual seat across from the lieutenant and right next to where Price would sit.

When his fellow sergeant entered, Soap eagerly waved him over.

“Gaz! Have breakfast with me?”

“Of course mate.” Gaz gave him a concerned look. “But Jesus did you even sleep?”

“Yea…” Soap gave a weak laugh. “I kinda over did it with the drinks.”

Sitting down together with their trays in hand Soap only half listened as Gaz went on about the most recent rugby game. Pushing his food around on his plate, Soap had only taken a bit or two. He could feel his stomach roll. Soap knew he was hungry, but his body wasn’t willing to eat just yet.

“Hey…” Soap’s head snapped up. Gaz’s tone had changed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been getting distracted.”

“Yea…” Soap caught movement over Gaz’s shoulder. Ghost had entered the mess. Soap watched him through bleary eyes as the lieutenant got his food, and made his way to their table, pausing just behind Gaz.

“Good morning, Sergeants.” Ghost’s baritone greeted them. Gaz gave Soap a knowing look, which Soap quickly dismissed.

“Morning, L.T.” Soap said, proud of himself. His voice barely wavered.

“Yeah…” Gaz crossed his arms. “Good morning Lieutenant.”

Soap knew that look. Gaz had been his best friend since day one of their time together. He could tell something was bothering Soap, even if he didn’t say it out right. He probably wouldn’t say it outright, and instead interrogate Ghost. Soap couldn’t allow that. Not this time. Standing quickly, he scooped up his tray.

“Here L.T. you can take my seat.”

“Ah, that’s not—” Ghost’s voice was quiet, meant only for Soap. Soap ignored him. Instead turning to lay a hand on Gaz’s shoulder. “Gaz, you up for some sparring later?”

“Sure, but…” Gaz glanced at Ghost, who had remained standing. “I thought Ghost was your sparring buddy?”

“Yea, but it’s no fun if you don’t shake it up. Aye?” Soap gave what he hoped was a convincing smile and made his way out of the mess. Ghost didn’t stop him. Gaz didn’t ask. None of the recruits noticed.

No, no one knew that John 'Soap' MacTavish was breaking.

—--------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day was a blur. Soap went through his normal workout routine, and even sparred with Gaz while studiously ignoring the shadow of Ghost as he stood just outside the sparring ring. Soap was for all intentions and purposes treating the lieutenant like his callsign: a ghost. Unseen, and unheard floating about the base.

Soap no longer sought Ghost out during his down time. He didn't eat lunch with any of the 141 anymore, choosing instead to return to his room. He even changed his workout schedule to avoid Ghost’s - as they had been workout buddies before. The only time Soap saw Ghost now was in his dreams, as the same nightmare played over and over again every night. This pattern continued for a little over a week before Price became fed up and dragged Soap into his office.

Much to Soap's chargen Ghost was already inside. The lieutenant stood against the far wall, arms crossed, head down. Soap ignored Price's gesture to take the seat in front of his desk. Instead opting to remain standing as far away from Ghost as possible. Price groused under his mustache taking his own seat behind the desk so he could glare at the two like a disappointed father.

"I don't know what the issue is between you two, but it stops now." Price growled. "You two were my best team, and now you can't stand being in the same room! What the hell is going on? Soap?"

Soap felt his stomach plummet. Price was blaming him. Of course he was blaming him. It was Soap’s fault after all. He was stupid enough to get comfortable. Stupid enough to believe that he was cared for. That he was wanted. Soap felt himself begin to tremble.

"I'll transfer in the morning." Soap rasped, gripping his own wrist behind his back to keep the others from noticing.

"The hell you will." Price snapped. Soap flinched, shoulders shaking. He was too keyed up, too anxious. "I don't care what you two do in your personal lives, but you were friends. I expect you to be teammates even if you can't be friends. I expect you to be cordial and work together. Do you understand?"

Teammates…isn't that what Ghost had said? He was his teammate, nothing more. Soap felt the acid churn in his stomach again.

"Yes sir." Soap turned, without waiting to be dismissed he flung the door open and bolted. He made outside, only just, and threw up noisily into the bushes. Wiping his mouth with the back of his head, Soap leaned back against the cold brick wall behind him. Or he would've if he didn't find himself flush against a pillowed surface.

Strong hands wrapped around his shoulders from behind.

"Easy Johnny." Ghost's voice rumbled in his ear.

"Dinnae call me that." Soap winced at how rough his voice sounded. He tried to shake off Ghost's hands, but the lieutenant's grip was unforgiving. "Lemme go." Soap complained as Ghost spun him around and led him forcefully back inside. Soap tried to shove the taller man off, but Ghost simply rearranged his hold and forced Soap to keep pace with him as he turned down the familiar hallways.

Ghost paused outside of a door, releasing Soap with one hand to fish for his keys while the other held tight to the back of Soap's neck. Soap twisted free of Ghost's hold and stomped back down the hallway they had come from. He got about two feet away before he was rudely slammed into the wall next to him. His breath left his lungs in a whoosh. Ghost glared down at him, a thick forearm pressed against his clavicle.

"You listen, and you listen well." Ghost snarled. "We are going in that office, and we are going to talk."

"Got nothing you want to hear." Soap half-gasped trying to snarl back. Ghost applied more pressure. "You made that clear, sir." Soap spat the honorific out through gritted teeth twisting to look pointedly at the floor. He didn't want to see Ghost's eyes. Didn't want to remember the warmth of Simon behind that mask. Ghost didn't care what he had to say, not really.

"Just because you couldn't get your dick wet–" Ghost grunted as Soap's fist made contact with his face. He took one step back, but no more, whipping his head back around to glare at the Sergeant. Soap met Ghost's withering look without flinching his blue eyes blazing.

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Soap hissed. "I can get shagged whenever I want. It didn't have a damn thing to do with sex and you know it. You're just too selfish to understand that other people have feelings for you." Wrenching Ghost's arm away from him, Soap shoved his superior hard. Soap paused as he turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder. Ghost stood there, unmoving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

—---------------------------------------------------

The next few days were better in many ways and worse in others. Ghost and Soap communicated only when necessary and with short clipped tones. Soap quit avoiding Ghost, but still did not actively seek his lieutenant out unless directed to by Price. Ghost remained as stoic as ever.

Since he hadn't been dragged into Price's office to explain why he struck his CO, Soap assumed Ghost was either too ashamed or too proud to admit he - the great Ghost - had been struck by his Sergeant. Soap suspected the latter since the man never bothered to talk to him about the night at the bar.

Soap's nightmares continued despite every effort he made to abate them. His sketchbook was becoming a homage of Ghost flinging Soap from a skyscraper against an inky blackness. Soap woke up violently ill every time to the point he stopped eating dinner so he could just dry heave in the morning before breakfast.

It wasn't a perfect fix, but it was working. The rest of the 141 was none the wiser. If they noticed Soap losing a little weight they never said anything. Perhaps they believed his pride in his body was the reason. No one noticed. No one cared. Until…

Soap was running the recruits through the obstacle course—which started with the basic crawling under the wire and ended in an underground pool the recruits had to swim through at the end. The deepest part of the pool was ten feet. The goal for today was for the recruits to complete the course with full gear on. Soap would be observing, along with another sergeant, to make sure no one got hurt. The recruits were to enter the pool at the deep end, tread water, and make it to the shallow end, and out within the time given.

The first group of five completed the course no problem. The second group, however, had an issue. One of the youngest recruits, Parker, was having trouble treading water. Soap gave him a second, seeing if any of the others would aid him, when they did not Soap ran to the side of the pool.

“Come on Parker!” Soap shouted. “You got this.”

Parker was pale, spluttering. The kid was panicking.

“Shit.” Soap jumped into the pool grabbing Parker by the vest and attempted to steer him towards the side of the pool. Panicked Parker swung his elbow back clocking Soap in the face, and splitting his lip.

"Oi, ye shit." Soap growled cursing under his breath Soap struggled, fighting with Parker to get him to safety. Where the hell was the other sergeant? As they neared the edge of the pool Parker flung himself towards the edge inadvertently slamming Soap’s head into the concrete side.

Dazed, Soap let go of Parker’s vest, inhaling sharply in pain. Unfortunately for Soap that meant inhaling a mouth full of water. In his panic to get out Parker used Soap as a ladder and stepped on his head forcing him beneath the water. Soap felt what little air he had escaped as he began to sink. Soap swam for the surface, only to be kicked in the sternum by a flailing boot. All of the remaining air escaped him in a whoosh of bubbles as Soap slowly began to sink.

He was drowning. He was fucking drowning like a damn greenie on their first day. Strangely, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The damn pool was only ten feet deep, and yet…Soap felt like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He was so tired. Two weeks of barely eating, hardly sleeping, and working out as though nothing was wrong left him irrevocably weakened. Soap would have laughed at that if he had any air. He felt his lips turn up in a rueful smile as the edges of his vision darkened. Through half lidded eyes he watched the water shift in the sunlight above him. It was strangely peaceful considering his current predicament. He wondered if they would notice if he was gone…

“Don’t you die on me you Irish bastard!" Gaz shouted in his ear. Soap was forcibly rolled to his side while a large hand thumped on his back. Soap felt the water burn its way back up--rolling he threw up. The chlorine burned his nose and lungs as he gulped in fresh air. "Oh thank God!" Gaz leaned over Soap easing the Scot onto his back.

"'M fookin Scottish ye smarmy cunt." Soap wheezed. Black spots danced across his vision making it hard for him to focus. Groaning Soap closed his eyes, turning his head to the side he focused on taking scorching breaths through his nose. There was rustling all around him, Gaz was busy fussing over him as a low murmur he couldn't quite place, surrounded them both. Soap let himself slip back into the ether.

"Go get a medic now." Gaz snapped at someone unseen. Soap barely stirred, he still felt like he was floating. How strange. A recruit yelped an affirmative and scurried off. The murmurs grew - the recruits were whispering Soap realized. Somewhere off to the side, a door slammed open, and heavy boots slammed into the ground towards them.

"Easy Ghost!" Gaz shouted. "It was an accident!"

Ghost? Soap thought sluggishly. No…Ghost shouldn't be here...

Then he felt large hands wrap around his face, turning him up as something soft skimmed his nose.

That tickles. Soap sighed.

"Why haven't you moved him to medical?" Ghost demanded, the soft thing moving away from Soap's nose.

"'M fine." Soap coughed. Why was it so hard to talk? "Just let me sleep…"

"No Johnny." A gloved hand tapped Soap's face. "Don't go to sleep. Not yet."

"Pffff. What d'ye care…" Soap sighed, his chest felt so heavy. Ignoring his screaming body, Soap rolled to his side. Bracing his arms beneath him he carefully pushed himself up to his knees, then to his feet. Black spots filled his vision again. "Fucking hell." Soap groaned.

"Johnny?" Ghost didn't sound right. He sounded worried. "Johnny, hang on."

Soap felt Ghost's hand on his shoulder.

"I dinnae need–" The world tilted on its axis. The ground rushed up to meet him - then he felt his body being lifted - weightless he really did float. He could still hear Ghost calling his name distantly. He really wished Ghost wouldn't worry so much. He just needed to sleep…

#ghost x soap #cod mw2 #price cod #ghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #gaz cod #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty

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soleilnomoon · 11 months

Note

hello!! ive been seeing some of the requests for your current event and they have just been so amazing 😩 and also congrats on 500!! that’s amazing!

i was wondering if i could order dulce de leche, lemon drop, and lollipop with a topping of poppy seeds and caramel for 1, sabo from one piece. if not thats alright or if i didn’t request correctly please let me know! thank you sm!

i am so sry this took forever, but it's here (finally); thank you thank you 🥰️ still can't believe it tbh lmao lemme tell u i love sabo so much & yk i love angst, anyway i had fun writing this 💕

1.8k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni, angst angst babey (altho it's a lil tame to me, but i love that shit so ignore me); sabo loves being in denial, that's his favorite river; y/n, as usual, doesn't care abt consequences; feat. oral (m receiving), rough (consensual) sex, mutual pining, sabo being a dumbass for ignoring his obvious feelings, y/n not having any self-preservation is just normal y/n behavior lbr 🌺 (if u see grammar/spelling errors no u didn't 💛)

“the kiss i didn’t give you has become a star inside me…” — dulce maría loynaz

for sabo, life is all about routine; not in the mundane sense, but in his quest for needing to have consistent control over every aspect of his life, he thrives on having a path laid out for him. he can’t help it — it’s something that was carefully ingrained into him since he was a child. he blames his parents, blames the world he was born into, blames the world nobles for uprooting his newfound family and separating him from his brothers. yet, he holds steadfast in the work he does, finds pleasure in seeking justice wherever he can, and makes it a point to not make the sort of romantic connections that will keep him distracted.

his colleagues don’t bother prying him for more information on his previous life, and they know that he actively keeps people at an arm’s length for some unknown reason — not that they can judge him, their line of work is dangerous and there’s very little room for mistakes, or weakness for that matter.

you’re not sure what you did exactly to land on sabo’s radar, but once he set his eyes on you there was no option for turning back. not that you mind, of course — you just hate the way you can’t seem to penetrate any of the walls he’s securely built around himself. he gives very little of himself but demands everything from you.

to anyone else, this would be reason enough to cut him out of their life; but you, unfortunately, cannot let him go. if you do, you’re afraid he’ll never let you back in — not after you fought so hard for him to stay by your side.

in his mind, you’re someone that he can quit anytime; it’s a lie he likes to tell himself whenever he’s feeling particularly lonely or vulnerable. he hates that despite how hard he fights to keep you from plaguing his thoughts, you still manage to find a way — especially late at night, when he can’t seem to sleep. insomnia has always had a strong, punishing grip around him, often leaving him breathless from the way he can’t seem to stop thinking about you.

at first, it was because you kept insisting on talking to him socially; then it was because he allowed you to take meals with him privately, a feat that did not go unnoticed by the others, much to his annoyance; and then it was because you had the audacity to kiss his cheek one night, after talking with him for hours. your demure behavior — the sweet, shy smile you gave him afterwards, the way you couldn’t look at him in the eyes properly the following day —ignites something deep within him that he never knew existed.

an ache makes its way into his chest, and he finds himself rubbing at it absently periodically, as if the burden of those emotions would take his life someday. while he might not outwardly show it, he looks forward to your incessant chatter — you talk about everything and nothing, something that baffles and amuses him to no end. with anyone else, he’d zone out of their conversation five minutes in, but you captivate him in an illogical way — one that has him watching you from across the room without meaning to, thinking about impractical things.

it's sabo who kisses you first, on a surprisingly quiet afternoon, in a back hallway that very few frequent during the day. a mistake, he tells himself when you part your lips for him without prompting; unnecessary, but he has you against the wall, with his knee in between your thighs; dangerous, yet he keeps kissing you anyway. he holds you still with a firm hand on the back of your neck, goosebumps tickling your skin every time his tongue caresses yours.

when you place your hands on his chest, arching into his hold as his other hand makes a slow descent down your back, he remembers himself. it takes effort but he’s able to extract himself from you in one swift motion, suddenly aware that he’s crossed a line he swore he’d never cross. after putting a good foot of distance between you two, he leaves abruptly and without giving you another thought.

or, so you think.

you don’t move from that spot for a few minutes, hands balled into fists at your sides, nails sinking into your palms out of frustration. you tell yourself that you absolutely cannot fall in love with that man. but it happens far too quickly and you’re incapable of fortifying yourself properly in time. he doesn’t kiss you again after that, not really anyway; he takes to catching you off guard when you walk back to your room late at night.

the first time he does it, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him. you screech in surprise and slap him on reflex. mischievous and a little stunned, sabo laughs at your reaction — your face grows hot from the embarrassment. his idea of an apology is pulling you close enough for him to drag his lips along the side of your neck. any residual irritation immediately dissipates the moment he places a kiss on your skin, an act that saps all your common sense, and transforms you into a marionette of his liking.

after that, you come to expect his surprise visits; you let him sit you on top of his desk, legs shaking as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your tight hole. you’ve long since forgotten to keep your voice down as you lean back on your hands, mind hazy as you watch the way your arousal drips onto his palm. if he wasn’t so intent on keeping his promise to himself, he’d kiss you all over again; but he knows if he does, there will be no turning back.

and this sort of weakness is out of the question for him.

you realize quickly that he’ll always distance himself from you emotionally, refusing to hold you for long, always pulling back whenever his lips are too close to yours. despite the bruise on your heart never healing, you can’t seem to let him go.

sabo fucks you like you’re an addiction he can’t seem to quit. no matter how many times he tells himself to leave, he makes his way back to you, hips rutting against yours frenetically, his cock buried deeply, making you moan his name loud enough to mesmerize him.

witchcraft, he muses to himself on occasion, fully believing that you’ve cast some spell on him.

his selfishness wins out when you sink down onto your knees in front of him one morning, stroking his cock with your soft hand before pressing your lips against the tip. whatever residual restraint he has is gone after your tongue swipes against his slit. the moan that slips out of his mouth invigorates you, makes you wrap your plush lips around his cock, sucking on the head teasingly before taking in more of his length.

you watch him with lowered lids, moaning around his cock, the vibration slicing through his logic as he grabs onto the back of your head so he can properly fuck your mouth. loosening your jaw, you hold onto the backs of his thighs for support, a heat passing over you every time sabo’s hips snap forward. your mouth is warm and moist, a combination that has him moaning your name without thinking. your heart speeds up and he ignores the warmth that spreads through him when he looks at your face; he constantly marvels at your beauty, at your soft skin, at how pliant and obedient you can be.

it annoys him that he’s found himself this deeply invested in you; when he pulls his cock out of your mouth, you take several deep breaths, a few tears sliding down your cheeks, a bit of saliva gliding down your bottom lip. the look he gives you is fierce and somewhat feral, and suddenly a nervousness that you don’t anticipate infiltrates your thoughts when he tells you to get on the bed.

he doesn’t have to tell you to get on your hands and knees, but he does it anyway; you severely underestimate the way his voice affects you — always a commanding, impressive force that leaves you breathless as you rub your ass against his stiff cock. you know you’re toeing a dangerous line by doing that, but you’re beyond caring. sabo glides his cock between your folds, arousal coating his length immediately.

you whimper shamelessly, fingers curling into the sheets as you plead with him. “sabo, please, i can’t take it anymore.” whatever else you want to say comes out as a garbled noise and you choke on his name as he snaps his hips forward, thrusting his cock into you roughly. you squirm when he pulls on your hair, yanking you back to him, lips nipping at your skin.

“stop running,” he says gruffly, his words almost making you laugh.

you could tell him the same since you theorized a while ago that he’s perfected the art of running. he doesn’t kiss you when you turn your head to look at him — he rocks his hips forward, the tip of his cock reaching a spot that has you clawing at his arms, your cunt squeezing around his girth in retaliation. he doesn’t kiss you when he has you on your back, legs draped over his shoulders as he pounds into you mercilessly, your voice growing hoarse, body writhing underneath him every time he sucks on your skin.

you wish you could hate him for making you fall in love with him, because only love could make someone foolish enough to carry on a relationship like this. you fall a little more in love with him every time, but he always finds a way to shatter your heart when he turns away from you on the bed. he tells you constantly that you can stay or leave, that the choice is ultimately up to you as it doesn’t affect him either way.

it must be madness that drives you to stay, wrapping yourself with the covers, breathing slowing as your eyes close. he turns around carefully, watching you with a tenderness that forces him to drape an arm around you, lips ghosting the curve of your ear as he whispers softly.

“i like having you around.”

you open your eyes but don’t dare turn around, afraid that he’ll leave if he realizes that you’re still awake — because if he ever takes those words back, you’ll never survive the fallout. so, you will your heart to stop beating loudly, and tell yourself that this must mean he’s lowering more of his walls for you intentionally. you don’t know how long he’ll allow himself to be this vulnerable with you, but regardless you’ll always cherish the time he’s spent with you.

#i'm finally done omg #fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece x reader #one piece angst #one piece smut #sabo x reader #sabo x y/n #one piece x y/n #sabo smut #sabo angst

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Note

CONGRATS ON 2K!!! i’m so happy for you. here’s a cookie for you, you deserve it 🍪

💃 prompt 5&6 for everyone’s favourite mass murderer - frank castle. thank youu <3<3<3

— 🍪 received. with love. thank you so much for your request omg. number 6 is SUCH a frank thing like exactly a line i would write for him. hope you like this one!!

— prompts:

💃 5. mm. your warm

💃 6. no— no. it’s alright. come here

— warnings: swearing.

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You stand at his door, dripping rainwater on his very small doorstep. Frank looks at you, wearing nothing but his boxers, with a slightly confused look on his face.

It was true. You had no where else to go. You’d been kicked out of your old apartment, and the place you were staying… well, it wasn’t actually yours, and unfortunately the very rich and very angry owners of the house had made an unexpected trip home.

They, obviously, called the police, which you didn’t want to stick around for, running in the pouring rain to the first place you could think of going. Franks house.

Your relationship was… complicated at best. Most of the time you hated each other, but the few times your interests had aligned, you worked better together than anyone you had teamed up with before. Not to mention Frank Castle stirred up feelings in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, ones you weren’t sure you even still had.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands aside and lets you walk through the doorway, locking it behind you. He disappears into another room, and you try to minimise how much water you drip onto his floor, shuffling out of your shorts and jumper. He’d sewn you up more times than you could count, so being exposed around him wasn’t really something that made you feel anything.

What did make you freeze up was when he came back into the room, the look in his eyes and the way he watched you take the towel and clothes he had brought you, and how you felt his eyes burning holes in your figure.

He turned around to let you dry off, and only when he wasn’t looking at you did he talk.

“You must be desperate. Comin’ here.” You scoff, trying to ring out your hair before sliding a sweater over your body. It smelt like him— his cologne mixed with something sharp and metallic.

“Don’t have a lot of time to make friends, thanks to you.” He had brought you a pair of sweatpants, knowing you’d be freezing, but even the added warmth didn’t stop you from shivering. Frank turned around, hearing you swear at how your teeth were chattering together. “I’m freezing.”

“There’s a uh—fireplace. In my room.” You were already moving, too fucking cold to worry about how he’d practically just invited you to his bed.

His room was small, but there was a lit fireplace surrounded by brick. It was pretty, sure, but also a testament to how old the building was. You wondered why he’d never bothered to move someplace nicer. He could certainly afford it now. At least move to a place built this century.

You sat yourself on the edge of his bed, that was just close enough to the fire to thaw you out. You were still shivering, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the fire long enough to notice Frank walking in, let alone sitting down next to you. Your body moved towards him when the mattress dips to his weight, and you do nothing to stop it.

“I’ll b-be out s-s-soon. Fucking rain j-just…” Your eyes close, trying to focus on stopping yourself from shivering so hard. It was almost exhausting— now you’re out of the rain you can feel how ice-cold it was, chilling you to the bone.

“You’re fine. Not like I got any plans either. Thanks to you.” Your teeth stop banging together long enough to scoff a little. You had both been making a dent in the FBI’s most wanted list, this being a time when your interests seemed to match up.

When he shuffles on the bed next to you, you can almost feel how warm he is through the small distance. His bed is messy from where he’s jumped out of it when you banged on his door, and you are fucking freezing—

You lean into him, your cheek brushing against his shoulder. The sudden contact makes you jerk back, despite how much you need to be close to him. Need him— no, not him. His body heat. You have to remind yourself of that.

“S-sorry.” You whisper, hardly audible above the crackling of fire.

“No— no. It’s alright. Come here.” He moves closer, wrapping his arms around you. His hands cling to you, rubbing along your arm trying to get the feeling to come back to them.

Abandoning any remaining pride, you lean into him again, this time falling into the hard lines of his chest, bringing your legs up and over his so he was practically holding you.

He turns around, keeping one arm holding you, and twists back with a blanket. It’s big and soft, and smells like the jumper he gave you when he wraps it around your shivering body.

“Better?” You nod quickly, afraid to move and lose any of the warmth you’ve started to retain. You also don’t want to risk having him move. You don’t know why you think that, but you just know your body wants to stay as close to him as possible. “You got anyone you needa call?”

“No one.” He nods above you, understanding.

“New roommates kick you out?”

“They didn’t know they had a roommate, so I guess they h-had a fair response.” Frank laughs quietly, and you turn your face upward, seeing a small smile. “Shut up.”

“You couldn’t just get a hotel room?”

“We aren’t all paid by special agents and veteran benefits.”

“Fair.” His arms tighten around you, feeling you still shaking slightly. You aren’t sure it’s from the cold anymore, with how his hand has slipped under the blanket, holding your waist. “Stay here.”

“What?” You sit up in his arms, and your faces are so close that you nearly whack his head.

“Stay here.” You probably look as confused as he did when you first showed up. “I see you every day. Until this shit blows over, and we’re done, stay here.”

You don’t know why he would be kidding, and his face tells you he’s deadly serious. Stay here. With him. Why the hell would he want that?

You have been nothing but a prick in his side since you moved here, getting in his way when he approached on what you claimed to be your mission. You were the one out of line, but here he was, offering you something like safety. Something you hadn’t had in a long time.

“So you can shove me out in the pouring rain, too?” You can’t look at him now, burying your face in his neck. “Way to kick me when I’m down.”

“No rain. Bed’s small, though.”

“You’ll have to be the little spoon.” Nothing is quiet about the way you both laugh, the silence of his small room filled with the light sound. You feel the hand on your waist let go, only to come back further down, around your hip.

“That a yes?” You look up and roll your eyes, but a small nod answers his question. “Alright.”

Apparently, it was that easy. Frank held you there, as close to the fire as you could get without jumping in it, and when you finally started to return to a normal temperature, you felt him shift under you.

“It okay if we…” He was tired, you could tell, and the look on his face had you moving up the small bed, claiming one of the two pillows he used.

Slowly, he laid down next to you, and you couldn’t bare the distance, pulling him closer as soon as he laid down.

“Mm. You’re warm.” You say into the crook of his neck, and he breathes in deeply, one of his hands running along your spine.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Good for something, at least.” At that, he forces you to spin around, and his body presses against your back while his arm wraps around your chest, keeping you bundled in the blankets and him.

“Go to sleep.” His lips brush against the back of your neck, and you can feel his smile when he talks. The intimate gesture sends all the heat you would ever need flooding your veins, and you fall into unconscious at the sound of his breathing.

#grippingbeskarsnightout #frank castle #marvel tv #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel #the punisher x reader #the punisher x y/n #the punisher x you

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lost-my-sanity · 12 days

Text

Turning Tides

chapter 2: Hard decisions, Harder Muscles.

I decided on accepting the invitation to have dinner with the fishmen, Arlong said he would allow me that time to figure out if I wanted to join them or not.

Honestly I still was undecided. I didn’t like what they did to the people of the village, especially bell-mere, but I had seen far worse done by the hands of humans. Unfortunately I had even been on the receiving end of it on a few occasions.

Things were different in town now. Everyone was hiding away in their homes, praying for the fishmen to leave them be, hoping their tribute money was enough to buy them some protection from the destruction.

I was lucky enough to be able to walk freely down the street without anyone bothering me. I headed to the woods to try and clear my head, whatever I decided would change the course of my life, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that or not, but at this rate I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

I sat on a large rock that overlooked a small stream that Nami often could be found playing with her sister when she wasn’t getting in trouble or trying to draw maps. She was a good kid for the most part, a little annoying sometimes, but what kid isn’t at her age….

I look up to the sky as my thoughts become even more of a mess. I’m drawn away from my dilemma for a moment when I realize a large body has situated itself near me, leaning against the rock.

“My sweet little thing, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Arlong’s deep voice rang out, startling me for a second.

“Uh um, I’m just thinking is all” I try to convince not only him but myself as well.

“Would that thinking perhaps be about a handsome shark fishman?” He said, sharp teeth on full display as he gave me a flirtatious smile.

“Well… kinda if I’m being honest” I state, not really sure if I could come up with a convincing enough answer other than the truth.

“Hmm, and what exactly are you thinking about?” He questioned me while taking a large finger and twirling it around a strand of my hair.

“I… I don’t know what to do… these people have been good to me, but… they don’t know the real me. I don’t think they deserve to be punished for existing though. That would make us no better than the people that sell our kind out for slavery” I state, eyebrows knitted and bottom lip pouting in conviction.

“You are too sweet, little one” murmured, his saw-like nose now inches away from my own.

“We are better than these humans, and they should learn their place. How about I make you a deal? Join me, stand by my side and I will not harm a head on anyone else in this village as long as they continue to pay their fees to me.” The shark fishman stated, looking me deep in my eyes.

“You really promise you won’t hurt them?” I ask, not sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“With you by my side, my sweet siren, I wouldn’t need to hurt them.” He replied coolly, a small smirk on his face.

“I’m sure that there would be more productive ways we could get out all of my frustrations” He purred as he began to run his long webbed fingers across my shoulders.

He was really attractive, his rippling muscles evident through the open shirt he had on, a gold chain across his neck and a matching bracelet on his wrist. He had sturdy legs that he must use to propel himself through the water.

He really was a magnificent sight to see.

“Okay…” I took a few deep breaths in and out before I looked him back in the eye. I held my back straight and with a confidence I was mostly just pretending to have.

“Okay… I’ll join you.”

@pixleslutz

#one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece #arlong

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crooked-corvid-whump · 9 months

Text

Part 2 to this post

tagging @mj-or-say10, who requested a part 2! :))

Warnings: Implied/referenced noncon, noncon touch, noncon kissing (kinda), burns, collars, dehumanization, lmk if I’m missing anything

(PS-- Could possibly become a longer series, if anybody would be interested?? If so, should I give the characters names or leave them with the placeholders? Lmk!)

Caretaker had gotten off relatively easy that night. Teammate D was by no means kind, but he was better than the others, and, when all was said and done, Caretaker was left with only a couple of bruises splotched here and there. It hadn’t taken long, and afterward he was left to find what rest he could while Teammate D did the same.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t much rest at all. Caretaker rarely slept— and he never slept well— but tonight was even worse than usual because he couldn’t stop thinking about the concubus. About the way they’d screamed as Whumper B held their arm over the fire. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he could still see the desperate terror that had danced with the reflected firelight in their eyes.

He knew he couldn’t have done anything to stop it. He knew that. In all likelihood, if he’d tried, both of them would have been punished and he would have made it worse. But that didn’t stop the guilt that threatened to choke him because he should have done more. He should have done something. He’d been their only potential ally in a crowd of people who treated their torture as a form of entertainment and he’d just sat there.

They hadn’t looked to him for help. They hadn’t looked to anyone; they had known no help was coming. That isolation, that knowledge that no one around you would intervene no matter what they did to you— it was a kind of fear he knew all too well, and his stomach churned. He knew exactly how they must have felt, kneeling there by that fire, all eyes on them as both people they knew and ones they didn’t watched with rapt attention as their skin blistered and bubbled.

Memories weren’t the only thing that kept him awake, though. From a few tents away, he could hear them crying. He could hear other things, too— things that made it clear that Whumper was not yet asleep— and Caretaker did his best to stop his mind from conjuring up images to accompany the sounds, to no avail. Images rose up to craft sorely unwanted scenarios of what was happening to the other demon just a couple of tents away. What Whumper was doing to them.

For hours he lay like that, trying not to listen to the sounds he couldn’t help hearing. Possibilities blended and blurred with memories until Caretaker was lost in recollections of hands in his hair, hands around his throat, hands roaming hungrily over his body, nails raking down his back, teeth pressed to his skin hard enough to draw blood. He shuddered as bile rose in his throat. His nails pressed into his palm, the pain bringing him back from the ledge he’d been teetering on, and he heaved a breath. Not now, he thought. Not here.

Caretaker pushed himself upright and slid off the cot, slipping, unnoticed, out of the tent. He wandered toward the fire pit and slumped on one of the logs, staring numbly at where the fire had been. The night air was cold, but he didn’t bother expending the energy to conjure up some warmth. Besides, the chill kept him present.

No one disturbed him as he sat there. No one came to drag him back into the tent to make sure he wouldn’t bolt. They all knew just as well as he did that Caretaker had nowhere else to go and very little chance of making it very far before they caught him again, so they didn’t bother wasting time or resources on keeping him locked down. It was almost worse than if they did put him in chains, and sometimes Caretaker wondered if it was on purpose. If it was just another way to taunt him, a display of power. Like he was a well-trained dog, so obedient that no leash was needed to keep him at his master’s heel. He scowled.

Not for the first time, his mind went to the plan he’d been cooking up to make his great escape. It was just a pipe dream, of course, just a comforting fantasy, but he sometimes wondered if maybe…

He had it all worked out. In this little daydream of his, he would barge into Whumper’s tent in the middle of the night and take the keys for the trucks. Whumper couldn’t stop him. He may have been half-starved, but he was still a demon, and Whumper was only human. If it came down to it, Caretaker could overpower him easily. Then, he’d get into the smallest, least conspicuous of the vehicles and simply drive away and never look back.

It was easy in his head. Easy enough that it almost seemed achievable, until he factored in the hundreds of ways it could and surely would go wrong. Even if he made it out, where would he go? To the nearest city, to be immediately discovered by the king’s soldiers? To the woods, with nowhere to stay and no human energy to feed on? Even going to a mage hideout would be a risk, considering what he was, and that was assuming he could even find one.

It was impossible. Of course it was impossible. It was a stupid plan. But sometimes he wondered.

At some point during Caretaker’s daydreaming, the noise from Whumper’s tent had subsided, save for the concubus’ gentle and unrelenting crying. Even that had gotten softer, so quiet now that Caretaker wouldn’t have been able to detect it if he was human, but he wasn’t. His heart ached for them. He wanted to go to them, to be one bright spot for them in the suffocating darkness they were both caught in. He wanted to break Whumper’s fingers for touching them because god, they were so small. Not physically— they weren’t young by human standards, not by a long shot, and maybe not even by demon ones— but Caretaker was an expert in reading people and everything about them screamed gentleness. Innocence. They don’t deserve this.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t know them— they were the only one of his kind he’d seen since being cast out of his home, and he needed them to be safe. There was a bond there, an innate tie to one another simply because they were both foreigners to this realm and they were both hurt for that.

Maybe he was the only one that felt it. Maybe they hadn’t given him a second thought. But it didn’t matter because he did feel it, and it fucking hurt.

That half-baked escape plan was looking more enticing by the minute. If he could get them out of this…maybe it was worth the risk.

He shook that thought away. Hope was a dangerous thing for people like him, moreso when it was most assuredly a false one. It wouldn’t— couldn’t— happen, and it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He tried to reel in his wandering thoughts, bring them back to safer topics, but the only other thing he could focus on was the sound of the concubus’ soft whimpers. That, and the steadily growing urge to sneak into Whumper’s tent to see them.

It was only a few more minutes before he gave in.

Caretaker stood and made his way soundlessly to the front of the tent, pushing back the flap and slipping inside. The setup was sickeningly familiar to him, down to the placement of the cot and the flickering candle on the engraved pewter dish. On the cot, Whumper was sound asleep, his hair mussed and his torso bare.

Caretaker grimaced and turned away, immediately catching sight of Whumpee, who was curled in a ball on the ground. Unsurprising. Whumper had no problem fucking a demon, but god forbid he let one sleep in his bed. He’d always made his disgust at that notion abundantly clear.

A flimsy leash that was clearly more for show than functionality was clipped to Whumpee’s collar, tethering them to a leg of the cot.

Whumpee hadn’t looked up when Caretaker came in, and they remained motionless as he took a few careful steps toward them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure they knew he was there. He moved to the side so he was approaching them from the front, making sure to move slowly so he wouldn’t startle them, but when they still didn’t show any sign that they’d noticed his presence, he knelt down in front of them.

They jolted, then, tensing and drawing in a sharp breath as they blinked up at him, a soft whine catching in their throat. They bit their lip, their eyes flicking nervously back and forth, to his face and then away.

Caretaker offered them what he hoped was a reassuring smile, relaxing his posture to try and seem less of a threat. Whumpee glanced back at him, and when they saw his kind expression, some of the fear in their eyes melted into uncertainty.

It was a step in the right direction, at least.

Whumpee shifted, eyeing Caretaker cautiously as they pushed themself into a sitting position, their knees drawn to their chest. In the flickering candlelight, Caretaker could see the tear tracks staining their cheeks, as well as several fresh bruises. As his eyes travelled down, cataloguing their injuries, he found another bruise peeking out from under their collar, deep, violent purple ringing their throat. A bite mark above their collarbone. Angry red scratches curling over their shoulder. And, of course, the vicious burns on their arm. It was a struggle to keep the anger from showing on his face, but he managed.

When Caretaker looked back up to meet Whumpee’s gaze, their brows were furrowed in confusion, but their eyes were wide with— what? Recognition? Awe? Caretaker didn’t understand at first, but he realized after a moment that they were staring at his horns.

“You’re…” They trailed off. Their voice shook and it sounded raw— probably from the screaming, or the crying, or a combination of the two. They didn’t finish their thought, but it didn’t matter. Caretaker knew what they meant.

“Yeah. I am.” He smiled a little wider, a little softer. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another demon.”

They just nodded.

The wariness had gone from their gaze, and they stared at him now with a reserved intensity that he found hard to describe. It was subdued, but at the same time desperate, and almost…almost a little hopeful. It was a strange thing to be on the receiving end of. Whatever that little flicker of hope was, he wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. To be whatever it was they were hoping he’d be.

At that moment, Whumper stirred. It was brief, a slight shift of position, but Whumpee jerked back as though struck. Their eyes went wide and wild with panic, their breath catching in their throat as a whimper slipped past their lips before they could stop it.

It was quiet, but it was enough.

As Caretaker tried to calm them down, tried to reassure them that they were safe, Whumper’s eyes blinked open. The grogginess of his sudden awakening lasted only a moment, and then he was on his feet, his eyes narrowed and focused squarely on Caretaker.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, incubus?”

Caretaker stood and plastered on his trademark smirk, shifting to the side to shield Whumpee from Whumper’s view.

“Just stopped by for a little visit. Got a problem with it?”

Bad move. Whumper closed the distance between them, and in an instant his hand was fisted in Caretaker’s hair, yanking harshly.

“I’ve got a problem with you. I thought I’d taught you some fucking manners by now. But if you need a refresher, that can be arranged.”

Caretaker laughed. He was already in deep shit— may as well commit to it.

“Have you considered that maybe you’re just not a very good teacher?”

Whumper’s eyes blazed with fury. He backhanded Caretaker across the face. Hard.

“Stop it! Don’t hurt him!”

Whumper turned to Whumpee, who had gotten to their feet as well, and grinned mockingly. “Oh look, the little toy learned to speak.” He cocked his head to the side. “I suggest you unlearn it, unless you’re looking for an encore to our performance earlier.”

They cringed back, fear flashing across their face, but they held their ground.

“Fuck you. J-just leave him alone.”

Whumper lit up with a sick delight. He released Caretaker, stepping around him and advancing on Whumpee. They stumbled back, but the leash clipped to their collar only let them get so far.

“What was that?” Whumper’s tone walked the line between anger and excitement, and it made Caretaker’s skin crawl. Whumpee just shook their head frantically as Whumper approached.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I-”

“No. Say it again.”

“J-just leave him a-alone…”

“No, no, the bit before that. Say it.”

Whumper was upon them now, and he hooked a finger in the front of their collar as they hyperventilated, still shaking their head. They’d started crying again.

When Whumper leaned in, his teeth scraping against their throat, they stopped moving, though their body still shook violently and their chest still heaved with panicked sobs.

That was too much for Caretaker. He surged forward, pulling Whumper away from Whumpee and shoving him to the floor. Whumper stared up at him in incredulous fury. Before he could get up to retaliate, Caretaker sent a surge of magic at him, stunning him.

“The keys. Where are they?”

Whumper only glared. Sensing that he might need a little encouragement, Caretaker focused, conjuring an invisible band of magic around Whumper’s neck and squeezing until Whumper started gasping for breath, his face turning a bright red, then blueish. Caretaker relented, then asked again. This time, Whumper twitched his finger, managing enough movement to point to his pocket.

Caretaker leaned down and snatched the keys. He sent another, stronger surge of magic at Whumper, and this time he made it hurt. He smirked when Whumper eked out a sound that surely would have been a scream had his throat not been paralyzed, then turned to Whumpee. They were still shaking, still gasping in short, hiccupping breaths, and still crying.

Caretaker went to them and reached for them slowly, giving them time to move away. When they didn’t, he rested a hand on their shoulder, waiting again for them to pull away. They didn’t. He took a small step closer, and they surprised him by closing the short distance between them, burying their face in his shoulder. His arms came up around them, holding them tightly as they trembled against him, running one hand soothingly over their back while the other came up to subtly unclip the leash from their collar.

He hushed them softly, cooing gently to them while they cried. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

When they finally caught their breath, Caretaker drew back reluctantly.

“C’mon. We’ve gotta go now, yeah?”

The concubus sniffed and wiped their eyes with shaky hands, nodding. When he offered his hand, they took it and followed him out of the tent.

They made it to the vehicles unhindered, and Caretaker unlocked the doors of the nearest one, helping Whumpee into the passenger seat. He rounded the front and climbed in on the driver’s side, then shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and as he backed the vehicle out of the circle and drove away from the camp, the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath the tires was music to his ears.

#whump #collar whump #demon whumpee #demon caretaker #not in the traditional sense of 'demon' but yk #whump drabble #whump writing #tw noncon #tw dehumanization #tw burns #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #multiple whumpees #caretaker is a whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #idk how to tag

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libraryofneith · 10 months

Text

Out of Mind - Chapter 6 (Joel Miller x Female Reader)

@hiroikegawa @evyiione If anyone else want to be added to the taglist so you know the minute this is updated, let me know. Otherwise please show your appreciation via likes, comments and reblogs : D

Sorry it’s been sooo long since I updated :’( FYI I'll be working and travelling a lot over the Summer so won't be updating very frequently. I haven't abandoned the work, I love writing this, but unfortunately life gets in the way. Especially when you're singing your way through the Scottish highlands.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Summary: You finally meet the infamous Bill and Frank.

Warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI], honestly this is a very tame chapter, just some chill Bill and Frank goodness, hints at queer Tess, Joel sees reader in a dress for first time and exe. stops working.

He wants to tell her that she looks pretty, that she always looks pretty, that for a brief second when he saw her he wasn't in the middle of an apocalypse anymore...

You

You fucking love Bill and Frank. And Frank fucking loves you, Bill is wary but as you're informed, that's not necessarily a bad sign. He's suspicious of anyone new which is fine - you're already used to that from Joel. In fact, Bill seems to be an older and, if possible, scruffier version of Joel: both hard-wired to survive no matter what, both with impenatrable emotional walls and both fiercely protective of the few people who have managed to scale those walls. Unfortunately you have not yet succeeded in scaling either of theirs, so thank god for Frank.

He's completely unlike anyone you've met since the world ended. The complete and utter devastation doesn't seem to have darkened his warmth and kindness. In fact, if anything, it's made it shine all the brighter. He's not naïve or foolish as you know some people would dismiss him, he's well aware of the relentless cruelty of the world beyond the gates of the home he shares with Bill and he's determined to fight it; not with guns and brutality but by creating a space of joy; somewhere people can live instead of merely surviving. It's a rare thing and it's something you didn't realise you were craving until you found it.

You and Frank connect the moment you lay eyes on each other.

"She's cute. Did you adopt her at a shelter?"

"Actually they fed me and I followed them home." "Excuse you," Tess interjects, "I think you'll find she stole from us."

"Right, then I followed you home."

"Oh this is rich! You gotta tell me the whole story," Frank gushes as he links his arm through yours and leads you away from a disconcerted Joel, Tess and Bill. From that point on you two are practically inseperable. You leave Joel and Tess to haggle with Bill while you paint, garden and explore the town with Frank.

"So I gotta ask..." Frank ventures as he gives you a tour of the small abandoned village, preserved as a shrine to those who were taken from it and the life they led, "what exactly is the relationship between you guys?"

"Us guys being?"

"You, Tess and Joel."

"Well, in theory the arrangement was that I'd come work for them, put my skills to use and they'd put a roof over my head and give me some measure of protection."

"And in practice?"

"This is the first time that they've let me anywhere near a job, though Joel did take me for shooting practice and I saved him from an infected, so that was cool." Frank gapes at you.

"You saved Joel?"

"Ummm... he kinda had to save me straight after, but I saved him first." "

Right, but what I mean is..."

"They don't hurt me if that's what you're worried about." Frank jerks to a stop.

"I... I didn't mean... Ok that's good."

"Look, if you're about to give me the whole you don't know what you're getting into with them speech, don't bother. I know what they are and what they do. I know because I've done it too. I'm not some innocent flower who needs protecting from the big bad world. However bad those two are, I've seen worse. And at the end of the day I'd rather have them on my side than face the worse alone."

There's a somewhat awkward pause as Frank mulls over your little speech and you give him time to figure out what to say.

"Ok then," he eventually lets out. "I'm glad you're looking out for yourself. Sorry, didn't mean to pry."

"That's alright, you weren't"

"It's just... look, I love Tess and Joel, they're like family - yes, even Joel - but I know they're not always - what I mean is, they have to do a lot to survive." You nod slowly.

"We all have."

"But it's good we've all found people."

"Well, I'm not sure if I'd classify Joel and Tess as my people just yet. Tess is nice but I feel like I'm still on probation with Joel."

"No, Joel likes you."

"What?" "He's a grumpy son-of-a-bitch but he likes you underneath all that- you know..." and he does a more than passable imitation of Joel's scowl.

"I don't- how do you- why are you saying this?" He gives you a sympathetic look.

"I think you know why."

"Oh god!" You cringe, covering your now crimson face from his view.

"It's ok, I get it. For all his emotional constipation, Joel's really got that sexy smouldering thing going on."

"I don't- ugh- I know nothing will come of it. It's just a crush. I'll get over it." An inscrutable expression passes over Frank's face at that moment.

"I'm sure you will. You know there's a boutique on this street."

"Boutique... like... for clothes?"

"Handmade too. You wanna check them-" but you're already dashing up the street in the direction of the hand-made with love fashion sign.

---

Joel

"So... you picked up a stray?" Joel can feel his face flush as he busies himself setting plates on the dining table.

"This ain't a free ride. She works for us."

"Doing what exactly? Goofing off with Frank?"

"She gotta learn first before we let her in on our business."

"Interesting response to someone stealing from you: letting her into your home."

"Weren't my idea. Tess was the one who took a shine to her."

"And you just tolerate her right?"

"Right." It's only when he says it out loud that it sounds unnecessarily cold. "I mean... look, she's a nice girl I just... I'm not sure if we can rely on her."

"That's all?"

"Well what else would it be?" Bill gives him that can't pull the wool over my eyes look.

"She's pretty." He gives Bill a look of his own.

"I know I'm not exactly the best judge but she's not exactly an eye sore."

"I don't think Tess was too worried about that."

"How would you know?" There's a smile in Bill's eyes - as much of a smile as he's capable of. Does he know something about Tess I don't?

"It ain't like that alright?"

"Whatever you say."

"Shut up." The sound of the door closing thankfully prevents Bill from offering any retort.

"We're back." Frank calls out.

"Great, just in time to not help out with any-" Joel stops short when he sees her: the low evening sun shining behind her, creating a glowing outline almost like a halo, dress wrapped loosely around her body, swishing about her legs with each movement. Her hair has been pulled out of its normal messy high ponytail and braided into a loose plait, a soft frame around her smiling face.

"Well shit." Tess emerges with a smile on her face. "Look at you."

"You like it? I found it at that clothing boutique."

"I love it."

"Joel." Frank snaps him out of his trance. "What do you think? Doesn't she look pretty?" He can suddenly feel everyone's eyes on him. He can't bring himself to look her in the eye, shit, he's grasping helplessly for something to say.

"You can't wear that on the hike back." Everyone's eyes roll.

"No shit Sherlock I wasn't planning on it."

He wants to tell her that she looks pretty, that she always looks pretty, that for a brief second when he saw her he wasn't in the middle of an apocalypse anymore, he felt like a kid at the first sign of Summer; but she's already gone, and you're both spared what would inevitably be a very shameful outburst.

He's still watching you all the way through dinner as you grin and whisper in Frank's ear - whatever you say prompting a snort of laughter and a disconcerting glance in his direction. You even manage to coax a smile out of Bill, telling him this risotto is the best you've ever had, assuring him you're not put off by the inclusion of mushrooms. You allow him to lecture you about the wine he's paired it with - how the sharp undertones compliment the tanginess of the parmesan. Honestly it all tastes like wine and cheese to Joel. You catch his eyes in a subtle smile, indicating that the same is very much true for you, but it's nice that Bill is warming up to you.

After dinner, Frank drags everyone to the piano and despite Bill's protests that he will absolutely NOT be playing, he is forced to interfere when Frank plays so badly it hurts everyone's ears.

"Works everytime" Frank whispers to you triumphantly as Bill rifles through his collection of songbooks. After discarding almost every book in the pile, Bill picks up a 'Best of Elton John' collection to a chorus oohs and that one that one from you, Tess and Frank. With a heavy sigh he flips open the pages and launches into the opening bars of 'Your Song'.

"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside..." Frank and Tess start crooning as Bill cringes. Joel remains silent. With enough liqour down him he might join in, and before he's completely fucked out of his mind he might be persuaded to grab their dusty old guitar out of the attic, but he's nowhere near that drunk yet, so he hangs back and listens as they launch into the chorus:

"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is now you're in the world." Joel can hear something else now above Tess and Frank's out-of-tune wails, someone singing a sweet soft melody; a voice that if he heard it on the radio in another life, he would've cranked up the volume and danced to around his kitchen.

"I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss, well a few of the verses they've got me quite cross." Tess and Frank gradually taper off as everyone realises that the beautiful sound is coming from you.

"But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song, it's for people like you that keep it turned on..." your voice fades as you realise you're singing on your own. "Sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"No sweetheart." Frank and Tess are grinning brilliantly. "Keep going."

"So excuse me forgetting, but these things i do. You see I've forgotten if they're green or blue." Joel can feel that tugging feeling in his chest again and suddenly he wishes he had his guitar with him right now. He knows the chord progression, it's not hard, and he wants to hear how your voice would sound over his playing.

"Anyway the thing is what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen." Frank and Tess come in for the last chorus and everyone is dewy-eyed by the time they finished. Frank pulls you in for a hug as Bill asks:

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" You're blushing, unable to make eye contact with anyone.

"You're not the only Elton John fans left y'know."

"No, I mean how did you learn to sing like that?"

"Don't know, I've always been able to really." Bill turns to him and Tess.

"You two could get her to busk - you'd make more money than you ever do smuggling."

"I'd rather be eaten by infected" you butt in quickly, earning a laugh from Tess.

"I think we're more suited as smugglers than roadies."

"Joel?" Frank is giving him yet another piercing stare. "Wasn't she great?" That familiar feeling of panic is clutching him again: the sense of everyone's eyes on him, the feeling that his heart has been ripped out of his chest and splayed across his face, but he resists the urge to grunt or say something non-commital. He forces himself to look at you when he says:

"You sang great."

He wishes his chest didn't burn when he sees you smile.

---

Here’s what I imagine the dress would look like.

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female oc #bill and frank

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