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rollinouttahere-writes · 3 months ago

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Solitude Chapter 2

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Pirates x GN Child Reader

5.8k words

Summary: You are finally graced with an opportunity to be off the ship, but can you handle it?

Warnings: kidnapping themes, violent assaults, death, decapitation, angst, trauma, ptsd symptoms, yandere themes

The much requested chapter two is here, and I hope it lives up to expectation! Thank you to everyone who left such kind comments on the last chapter, it really helped to motivate me to continue!

When you lost consciousness after those pirates surrounded you, you honestly hadn’t been expecting to ever wake up. You made the foolish mistake of stealing from them, so now they would make you pay with your life. That made sense to you. It’s what pirates were supposed to do, right?

So why were you still alive? And why were these pirates so…

Weird.

There wasn’t any other way to describe these people. You stole food from them. You tried to attack them- twice. And that all happened before they even brought you to the ship. They had no reason to do anything that could be considered kind or generous for you, and all the reason to harm or even kill you.

By the time you came to, several things struck you all at once. The most obvious being that you weren’t on the island anymore. You had woken up in an unfamiliar place. All of the walls and the floor were made of wood like your treehouse, but it distinctly was not your treehouse. Other differences trickled in as your senses returned.

The hardest thing to miss was how much your nose hurt. You had become accustomed to the constant ache ever since you broke it all those years ago, but now it once again felt the way it did the day you broke it. Though you could suddenly breathe through your nose with ease rather than having to rely on getting air through your mouth.

Along with that, you found that your hair was gone. Not completely, but it was now extremely short, feeling almost prickly to the touch. Then there was the smell. You smelled weird. While you couldn’t really describe what you smelled like before this, the new, more unnatural scent was impossible to ignore. It was beyond you what could have happened to you in your sleep, much less why.

Eventually, you would get answers, but they didn’t make sense to you.

Your nose hurt because Marco rebroke it to “make it better”. It was fine as it was in your humble opinion. Not perfect by any means, but you were managing it, so you found his efforts extremely unnecessary. Your hair was gone because it was matted together and apparently unsalvageable. This one bothered you less since your scalp didn’t hurt anymore and you no longer had to worry about clumps of hair obscuring your vision. The weird smell coming from you was something called “soap”. You didn’t know what exactly it was or what it was supposed to do beyond make you smell weird, but it was forced upon you every time they made you take a bath regardless.

What you still didn’t understand about all of this was the why. What did they have to gain from doing all of this? They were wasting resources and energy on you for nothing. It’s not like you were helping them just by being there. All that your presence on the ship amounted to was that there was now someone scuttling around the crawlspaces and swiping food from the kitchen. You had all the benefits of a large rat.

Yet they persisted. They kept you fed and clothed, and some of them were even trying to teach you things. Thatch had an ongoing effort to try and teach you how to prepare and cook food. A foolish idea, truly. You just ate whatever he handed to you. Sometimes, if you were particularly full, you would go along with it, but you weren’t any good at it if Thatch’s constant corrections were anything to go off of. Why did it matter if your hands were washed or if you dropped something on the floor? It was unclear.

Then there was Marco and his battle against your illiteracy. This was by far the most frustrating aspect of being trapped on the ship. Reading and writing won’t help you survive. It won’t fill your stomach or kill threats. It all felt pointless and needlessly difficult. There were too many things to remember, and the effort to commit all of it to memory just didn’t seem worth it to you. Especially not when it meant that you had to spend time around Marco the nose-breaker.

Up to this point, they have kept you trapped on the ship. The reasons varied depending on who you asked. Marco said that it was because they wanted you to be in better health before setting foot on new lands. Thatch’s claim was that they didn’t want to overwhelm you after having spent your life on an unpopulated island. Ace was the only one that you felt was being honest. He laughed and ruffled your hair when you asked, then told you point blank that they all knew you would make a break for it the second you thought you could.

It was your belief that you were damned to be stuck on this ship until the day you died or could pull off an escape, but that all changed today. The Moby Dick had docked at an island to restock the ship’s food supply, and you were going along to help.

This felt like a trick. Possibly a test. Everyone had gone through great lengths to keep you on the ship every other time it had docked, usually by tossing you at Whitebeard and having him hold you until they set sail again. The one time that they didn’t, you did exactly what Ace thought you would and tried to run only for his overgrown cat to stop you. It was nothing short of humiliating to be dragged across the deck by a cat by the straps of your overalls.

But as you stared at the bustling crowd in front of you, you were able to rule out it being a lie. Sure enough, you were off the ship. It’s not like this was your first time seeing a populated island. Whitebeard’s absurd height allowed you to easily spy on the towns they docked at while he held onto you. But now you were in the thick of it, and that was an entirely different experience.

The unending chatter of the people felt like it was assaulting you from all angles, the cobblestones beneath your feet were unnatural, and you couldn’t see a single tree. As much as you were loath to admit it, Thatch had been right. You were overwhelmed.

A hand came down on your head gently, making you tense and look up at the offender. Thatch was crouched down, attempting to be closer to your height, yet still dwarfing you. He regards you with a warm smile, “You feeling okay, kid? If this is too much for you, we can go back to the ship at any time.”

You bristled at the contact, quickly stepping forward and shaking your head to dislodge his hand. Who knows when or if they’ll let you off the ship again, you don’t want to squander this. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Thatch sag from your actions, then push himself up to his full height with a sigh that was utterly dramatic.

For whatever reason, Thatch seemed oddly focused on gaining your approval. Granted, everyone on the crew made attempts to get close to you, but he was particularly dedicated to the cause. If he wasn’t giving you food or trying to show you how to do something in the kitchen, he would do other strange things like checking on you throughout the day and bringing you back random gifts whenever he left. The purpose behind any of these actions was a mystery to you.

As much as you want to boldly march forward and capitalize on this opportunity to its fullest, your feet feel heavy. All that you want to do is find a quiet, compact place to crawl into and hide in to escape this onslaught of noise and people.

But… if you never get used to this, you'll never be able to escape. Enduring this seems to be a necessary evil.

Wanting to keep yourself from being ushered back to your prison, you begin marching forward. You had no idea where the market was, but that was neither here nor there. If you didn't show some semblance of bravery towards this new setting, you're sure they'll cut this excursion short.

Everyone falls into step all around you, obscuring your vision of the surrounding area; though you could still hear the crowds loud and clear.

Marco's hand settles onto your shoulder, much to your dismay. You scowl at him and try to shimmy away, but he easily holds you in place.

“Do you remember what I told you? About how you can't just take things here? You need to wait for us to pay for the food before you eat it, okay?”

“I remember… not stupid.” You finally manage to break his hold and quickly relocate yourself to be on the other side of Thatch to maintain some distance.

Ace chuckled and lightly shoved your shoulder, an action that he claimed to be “playful”, whatever that means.

“Oh, come on! Don't be like that. Marco is just looking out for you so you don't get in trouble. Besides, you have earned a reputation for having sticky fingers, you know?”

The odd statement immediately prompts you to look down at your hands and rub them together. You then look back up at Ace with scrunched brows, “Not sticky.”

This makes him, as well as a few of the other people in your entourage laugh. Izou speaks up after the laughter dies down to clarify, “He didn't mean it literally. It's a figure of speech. It just means that you have a tendency to take things that aren't yours.”

“Do not,” you grumble quietly, more to yourself than anyone else while stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Just pick things up.”

“Just because someone isn't actively using something doesn't mean it isn't still their's. You've become a real menace to all of the smokers on board, what with your fascination towards lighters.” Marco hums in thought, then tacks on, “Though I suppose all of them smoking less isn't the worst thing that could happen to them.”

Ace groans in annoyance, dropping his head back, “They aren’t smoking less, they’re just harassing me instead. Now I've got half the crew pestering me for a light every minute of the day.” He shoots an accusatory glare your way, “I bet you have some on you right now, don't you?”

Your hands reflexively tighten around the lighters in your pockets, “... No.” Lighters were by far the best thing you've discovered since your abduction. Gone were the days of beating rocks together to make a spark and hoping that it took. Now all you needed was a quick flick of your thumb, and you had a perfect flame. Collecting such a precious tool was important. So what if some other people claimed they “needed” it? They weren't even starting fires. They only ever used them on those smelly sticks whose scent makes your eyes and nose sting. These lighters were obviously put to better use in your care.

“Yeah, right.” Ace drops his scowl and grins again. “I can't stay mad, I guess. I was stealing way more stuff than you when I was your age. I think you and me would've made great friends.”

“Doubt it…”

Ace brings a hand to his chest in mock despair, “So cold! You really are just like me when I was a kid. I bet Luffy would love you.”

Immediately, he started prattling on and on about that brother of his. A common occurrence that you have long since learned to tune out.

What you decided to focus on instead was how the crowd was getting denser and more loud. Everyone was talking, some even shouting, as the masses all swarmed around one area. What hell is this?

“Damn. Of course we got here when the place is packed.” Thatch surveyed the commotion with a weary look on his face, not appearing to like this anymore than you did.

Ace, completely unphased, continues walking, “Don't worry, I'm sure at least half of the people will clear out when they see a bunch of pirates walking around. Then we'll have the market all to ourselves.”

This is the market? The place you're supposed to get food from? How awful. How is anyone supposed to get anything when there are so many people here? Everything will be taken in seconds, and all of the noise means that there won't be any animals nearby to hunt.

Once again, you feel that uncomfortable ache in your gut, accompanied by sweaty palms. You've never seen so many people at once before. Groups were a bad thing at the best of times, but this unending crowd was more than you knew how to handle. It was more than you ever thought was possible.

Someone touches you again, on the shoulder. Your body goes rigid and you snap your head around to look at the offending hand sharply. It was Thatch. Of course it was him. It usually was.

“We can go back to the ship any time you want. I don't want you to take on more than you can handle.” He smiles, eyes shining with hope, “You can even hold my hand if you need to.”

“No.”

Thatch sulks again. He's good at that.

As your group enters the market, you're all forced to walk very close together to the point of bumping into each other. You almost grab onto Thatch’s coat to lessen the odds of becoming lost in this crowd, but you refrain. He would absolutely be weird about it. All of them would be.

To keep yourself from being overwhelmed by all of the people, you focus your attention on scouting for food in hopes that there might still be some left.

You can't believe what you see. Piles and piles of food are everywhere. Everyone is taking, yet there is such a surplus that there is more than enough to go around for everyone here. How… How is this possible? You never thought so much food could exist at once, and definitely not all in one place!

In your state of shock, you hadn't even realized that you'd stopped walking. Not until someone bumps into you from behind. You stumble forward, but are steadied by a hand on your shoulder. You stiffly look back at who's touching you and see that it's Marco. Your lip curls in disgust, and you're quick to pull away and catch up with everyone else; all while pointedly ignoring him questioning if you were feeling okay.

“(Y/N)! Why don't you come and pick out something to celebrate your first time off the ship?”

Thatch is standing by a table among the mountains of food and gesturing you over excitedly. You cautiously approach him while eyeing the wide array of fruit spread out on the table, some that you recognized, some that you don’t. Your eyes settle on a pink fruit that has green leaves coming off of it like spikes.

It was very odd looking. You look up at Thatch while pointing at it, “Devil fruit?”

The plump, middle aged man with graying hair sat at the table laughed loudly and slapped his knee, “A devil fruit? I wouldn’t be working as a fruit peddler if I had that many devil fruits lying around!”

Thatch also laughs, though not quite as hard. He ruffles your hair, as he so often does, “That’s a dragon fruit. Do you want to try it?”

You’re about to nod, but then you see something out of the corner of your eye. Large red, seed-covered berries that you had recently gotten to try. You ate them by the fistful, loving the sweet and tangy taste they had. Eagerly, you point at them, “Want those.”

The fruit peddler grins, “Your kid’s got a good eye for quality! Between you and me, I’ve got the best ones here! Though I might be a little biased.” He chuckles and stands up, picking up a basket while asking Thatch how many he wants.

Excitement buzzes through you at the prospect of getting to have your newest favorite treat. But unfortunately, your joy was not to last. Marco crouches down next to you, and taps the sign in front of the berries, “Do you remember what these are called?”

“Berries.”

Marco shook his head, “But what kind? Can you try sounding out the word?”

Just like that, your good mood shrivels up and dies. Why must Marco insist on ruining everything? You stare hard at the squiggles on the sign, none of them making sense to you. Of course you couldn’t read this. He knew that you couldn’t. You know that you’ve been told what these berries are called, but you can’t remember it right now.

He doesn’t drop it when you remain silent. He points at the squiggle on the far left side, “Come on, I know you can do it. What sound does this letter make?”

While all of the letters were just shapes to you, this one was the squiggliest of them all, completely lacking in any straight lines. It somewhat resembled a snake to you. Your eyes widen slightly as something clicks in your brain and you recall one of your lessons with Marco.

Marco holds up a card with two shapes on it in front of you. They’re identical, but one is significantly smaller than the other, “And this one is an “S”. It makes a ‘sss’ sound like a snake. Now say it back.”

“Ssss…” You quietly mimic the sound from your memory, making Marco smile.

“Yes, that’s right!” His finger moves to the right, “Now what about this one?”

Your victory was short lived. You stared hard at the second letter, but nothing came to mind. There was nothing about the two straight lines crossed over one another, the horizontal one being shorter than the vertical one, that made you think of a connection to its sound. You were completely and utterly stumped, and you doubted that Marco would let it go.

Movement behind Marco catches your eye, and you see Thatch standing there and… moving his lips but not making any noise? Was he being weird again? Probably. But he was being awfully persistent. He was staring into your eyes while making the same mouth movements over and over again, and you felt compelled to try and understand it.

S… St… Str… Wait-

“Strawberry!” The answer comes out much louder than you had intended, but you couldn’t help it.

Thatch claps excitedly, “There we go, I knew you had it in you!” He closes and reopens one of his eyes quickly, an action you recall being referred to as “winking”. The basket of strawberries is then deposited into your open arms.

“Paid?”

“Yes, they’re all yours, kid.” Thatch watched as you immediately grabbed two and stuffed them into your mouth. His eyes widened and his smile partially drooped, “Hey, wait! You aren’t supposed to eat the stems!”

His reaction makes you pause your chewing. “Poisonous?”

Thatch sighs and his shoulders slump as he scratches the back of his head, “No, they aren’t poisonous, but most people don’t eat that part of it.”

You swallow your mouthful, then grab another berry, “Tastes fine.” With that said, you pop another whole strawberry into your mouth.

He sighs and shakes his head, while muttering something under his breath about “picking his battles”. You two aren’t fighting. Not right now, at least. Perhaps later.

The rest of the food procurement passes by rather uneventfully. Marco mercifully stopped quizzing you after the strawberries, and you were admittedly more focussed on eating than examining your surroundings. By the time you had finished your snack, everyone had finished shopping.

It was while you were absent-mindedly swinging the empty basket in your hand that your eyes had finally started to wander again. The docks were packed with ships, mainly civilian, but you could see a few pirate flags billowing in the wind. As much as you hated to see them, you couldn’t help but examine each one.

Of course, there was Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger. Though it was still quite far away, the sheer height of the mast made it stand out among the rest. Your eyes flitted from one flag to another, taking them all in in an almost bored daze-

Everything stops.

The world around you falls silent and ceases to exist as you spot a Jolly Roger with a knife stabbed into the top of the skull and poking out one of the eye sockets.

“Are you sure about this? They’re pirates, we have no idea how they’ll respond. It would be one thing if this was a marine ship, but pirates are too risky!” Mom’s words came out in a rushed hiss.

Dad’s gruff exterior doesn’t waver in the slightest. “Do you think I don’t know that? I don’t like this either, but what else are we supposed to do? We can’t survive here much longer, and there is no telling how long it’ll be before another ship stops here. Or how long it’ll take for that ship to be a “safe” one. I’m going to go speak with them whether you like it or not.”

Mom inhales sharply and drops her head down as her fingers drum on her gaunt waist. She exhales softly, “I know we can’t afford to wait… but there is a lot worse they could do beyond telling us no.”

Dad’s expression finally softened. “I’m aware… I promise that I’m not trying to be thoughtless about this, but we need to act now. There isn’t enough food on this island to feed even one person properly, much less all of us. Our child deserves to have a better life than this.”

“Fine… but I’m coming with you. They might be more sympathetic if we tell them that we have a family at home that is looking for us.”

The wicker basket falls to the ground and rolls away, not that you pay much mind to it as you take off in a sprint. Distantly, you register your name being called out, but you can’t focus on that now as you dart through the once intimidating crowd with one goal in mind.

Mom crouches down and gently cups your face as she speaks in that comforting, soft way she always does with you, “We’re going to be right back, but you need to stay right here until we come back for you, okay?”

Your lips purse, and you anxiously dig your heels into the dirt, “Why are you guys going if it’s so dangerous?”

“Sometimes you need to take risks in life, even when it feels scary.” Dad hazards a glance your way while loading his gun. You aren’t sure why he’s doing that when he isn’t planning on going hunting.

“Can I come? I want to take a risk, too.”

“No.”

Both mom and dad speak at the same time in an equally harsh tone, one exclusively saved for when you do something that could have hurt you or them. You shrink back and frown.

“We’ll be back before you know it, just stay in the treehouse. Please.” Mom kisses your forehead and stands up. “I love you. We’ll be back. I promise.”

A sharp turn nearly makes you fall on your face, but you catch yourself on your hands and push yourself back up. You run as fast as your legs will carry you as you close the distance between you and the ship.

It comes into view, and you spot several people walking off of it. You know them. You can never forget them. Especially not the one with a ratty black mane of hair on his head and face. An eyepatch covers his left eye now, but it isn’t enough to fool you.

As you quietly creep through the brush, you hear a commotion on the beach. You rush forward until you can see the shoreline. Mom and dad are there, backing away slowly as a large group encroaches on them.

“You want me to give you lot a ride? Does this look like a cruise ship to you? Do you have any idea who I am?” The man with dark hair stalks towards them, looking amused, but also another thing that you couldn’t place. His eyes made you feel nervous despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at you.

“We won’t be freeloaders! We’ll work for our passage! Please, sir, we’re desperate! We have a family at home, please let us get back home to them!” Mom was clutching dad’s arm. Her head swiveled as she saw all of the pirates surrounding them.

The man let out a bark of laughter, “From the looks of you two, they probably already think you’re dead. But, since I’m so nice, I can tell them as much if you tell me where they are. After we’re done here with you two, of course.”

Mom and dad’s faces go pale. “Run!” Dad pushes mom away just as a pirate lunges at them. Dad punches him, then another as mom sprints away.

The knife strapped to your side is ripped free from its confines. You’ll have to thank Ace later for sharpening it for you. Your feet pound against the wood of the docks as you gain on your target. You raise the dagger and get ready to leap at him.

Just as you do, he turns and sees you, and then arms lock around you from behind, yanking you up and back.

Several men rush past dad, chasing mom. One of them, the one that had been speaking, grabs her by her hair, and throws her to the ground. She screams and fights to get her hair free, “Please don’t do this! Please! We’ll leave!”

“Get away from her!” Dad’s voice came out in an enraged bellow. He knocks down the last pirate he was fighting and rips the rifle from his back. He aims it at the pirate attacking mom, and then there’s a loud BANG.

But not from his gun. All you can do is stare powerlessly in horror. Where his head once was is nothing but a bloodied stump. His body sways, then crashes to the ground.

(Y/N), stop! What has gotten into you?!” Thatch’s voice is right behind you as he struggles to keep his hold on you. You thrash wildly as a series of raw screams tear out of your throat. Ace is holding onto your dominant hand and trying to pry the dagger out of it to no avail.

“What’s with that damned brat of yours?” The dark haired man stepped closer, looking almost bored. “They just tried to kill me. I’ve ended lives over far less.”

“C-Captain! Those are Whitebeard’s pirates. Just let it go.” A smaller man puts himself between you and the captain.

“I know who they are, but I think that I deserve an apology at the very least.”

“Capt-” The man is harshly shoved aside by the captain who is now even closer, only adding to your rage.

“You killed them! They just wanted help, and you killed them!” The accusation shreds your throat as you scream it. All of the hands touching you go stiff at your voice.

Mom shrieks dad’s name and begins to sob and fight harder. The man lifts her off the ground by her hair and throws her away. As she’s laying on her back and struggling to breathe, her terrified eyes meet yours.

“Killed who? You’re going to have to be way more specific, kid.”

Just as quickly as mom sees you, she looks away. She frantically looks around as she pushes herself back, then looks up and starts screaming at the top of her lungs, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Get away!”

“That isn’t going to happen, sweetheart. We aren’t going anywhere until we’re done.”

“I saw it!” You don’t answer his question. You can’t.

Mom takes him off guard when she abruptly lunges at him. She unsheathes her hunting knife and swings it at his face. He stumbles and falls, and she goes down with him and keeps stabbing, all while screaming “get away” over and over again.

“I saw it!”

The other pirates throw mom off of him, descending on her like a pack of wild animals.

“I saw it!”

A club slams into the side of mom’s face, sending out a spray of blood and teeth.

“I saw it!”

A foot rams into mom’s stomach, forcing more blood out of her mouth.

“I saw it!”

A sword is stabbed into mom’s leg, keeping her in place.

“I saw it!”

The dark haired man finally gets to his feet and marches over to mom’s battered, bleeding body and draws his gun. You can’t take it anymore. You turn and run. You run as fast and hard as you can as mom’s screams come to an abrupt end following a gunshot.

“I- I- I-” All words and thoughts fail you. Your body goes limp as loud, painful sobs tear out of you. Your dagger- mom’s dagger- falls and embeds itself into the wood of the dock.

What was wrong with you? He was right there. He was right in front of you, but you couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t will your body to do anything but cry. The wet heat of your tears feels completely alien to you. You haven’t cried since that day. You forgot what it was like.

“Hold on,” the captain stares hard at the dagger, “I know that knife! That belonged to the bitch that took my eye!” He laughs, and it makes you feel just as sick as it did the last time you heard it, “I should have known their story was a load of shit! Of course that family they were crying about was actually on the island. I wish I would have put that together before, because then I could have-”

In an instant, you see Izou standing next to the captain. A single flintlock pistol is raised, pointing right at the captain’s head. You see his finger tightening around the trigger, then everything goes black as a hand clamps over your eyes.

A deafening gunshot rings out, enforcing a hush over the crowd. After a beat of silence, a shaky voice calls out, “Captain! You! You’re going to-” Another gunshot. Panic breaks out on the docks, you can hear people running and screaming. You don’t react to any of it, you just hang limply in the air. Your tears have run dry. Now you’re just numb.

“Thatch… take them back to the Moby Dick. We can handle this.” Marco is speaking in a tone barely above a whisper.

You can hear Thatch start to argue, but then he stops with a sigh, “Yeah, you’re right.”

As he begins to walk away, he shifts your limp body in his arms until you’re facing him. Your face is pressed firmly into his shoulder, still preventing you from being able to see any of what was happening around you. Both of your hands grasp his coat tightly.

Time passes elusively. The amount of time it took for you to get to the ship felt unclear. It could have been minutes or hours. You have no idea. Much louder, heavier footsteps snap you out of your trance, but you can’t bring yourself to care enough to turn to look.

“What’s going on?” Ah. It’s Whitebeard. Makes sense, you suppose.

It takes Thatch a moment to find the right words. “We… found out why the kid hates pirates so much.”

“I see. Do you want me to take (Y/N) back onto the ship for you?” The question makes you tense and clutch Thatch’s clothing even tighter. You don’t know why. You can’t understand anything right now.

“No… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should stay with them.” Thatch matches your strength with ease as he all but cradles you.

Whitebeard hums quietly, “Good. You’re doing the right thing.” A loud explosion echoes from a ways away, making you flinch. “I better go check on them. Make sure Ace doesn’t burn down the whole dock.”

Everything after this is a blur. Things are happening around you, and all you can do is go with the motion. What you do know is that you’re in the kitchen with Thatch, and that the contents of the warm mug in your hands is milk with honey. A favorite of yours. You’re pressed against Thatch’s legs as you sip at it.

Generally, you sit with the rocks that once marked your parents graves when you feel upset. Both had been brought onto the ship when you were taken from the island, something that you were begrudgingly grateful for. Yet here you are, choosing to stay with Thatch rather than going to them.

You loved mom and dad. They sacrificed everything for you. Clothes, water, food, their time and energy. Eventually their lives.

But those rocks weren’t your parents. They couldn’t hug you. They couldn’t kiss your head and tell you that everything would be alright.

They couldn’t make you milk with honey just the way you like it.

But Thatch could. He could do all of that and more. As if knowing that you were thinking of him, Thatch took a brief break from preparing food to gently pat your head, an action that you had found annoying up until this very moment. How strange. You don’t get it.

The door to the kitchen opens, and Ace walks in. Usually he enters rooms loudly and without a care in the world, but there’s an undeniable caution to his actions. He smiles warmly as he slowly approaches you.

“Hey. You feeling better now?”

You just stare at him blankly.

“Yeah. Figured as much.” Ace gets closer and pulls some rag out of his bag. “We got those pirates taken care of for you. You don’t ever have to worry about them again. There’s just one thing left to get rid of.”

Ace unfurls the rag, revealing it to actually be the flag from the pirate ship. He holds it out to you with one hand, then snaps the fingers of his other hand, creating a small flame. “Do you want to do the honors?”

It takes your foggy mind a moment to figure out what he means, but when it does catch up, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Shifting the mug to one hand, you dig out a lighter from one of your pockets, flick it on, then hold it out to the flag.

You watch it burn to ash, leaving no trace of its history in its wake.

Tag list (first time doing one, sorry to anyone I missed): @epochal-oracle @one-piecelover @mo-on-lotus @dreamland08 @nightreverie @ashortdork @lordchippie @lucyrose9820 @daniissocool5 @star666fox @ladydoe8

#yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #portgas d ace x reader #thatch x reader #marco the phoenix x reader #izou x reader #whitebeard x reader #portgas d ace #thatch one piece #marco the phoenix #izou one piece #whitebeard one piece #edward newgate #yandere #platonic yandere

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readychilledwine · 5 months ago

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Idk if you do requests but holy shit you are amazing but like on the off chance you do I’m feral over this idea you would absolutely kill for cassian or Azriel

I’m dying for a smart ass foul mouthed girl in the dirty book club that’s like half his size to get him all worked up teasing him every time he sees her but when he finally gets her alone she literally was all talk and is clueless and timid and he blows her fucking mind

I talk a big game but it’s all a bit and I have zero confidence to back it up 😂

Bonus points and my first born for…

Dumbification

Big ole size kink

& a praise link to feed the ✨ daddy issues ✨

All For Show

Summary - Cassian has gotten tired of you and your pretty little mouth. He just had to wait for the right moment to correct it.

Warnings - smut, praise kink, degradation, slight dumbification, shy reader x bold cassian, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), implied size kink (little reader x big cassian), public-ish sex, unprotected sex, a hint of Voyeurism, best friend ex dynamic, loose editing, I'm probably missing some to be honest.. oh, gwyriel mentioned. I apologize if it isn't your preferred ship, but it felt right for this fic.

A/N - I've shamefully written this three times because I wanted bonus points while also giving it plot 😅

🗡Cassian Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

Your mouth was going to get you in trouble one of these days, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as you laughed with the Valkyries.

The 4 of you were deep into your book club meeting, discussing the recent salacious read that had Gwyn’s cheeks matching that shade of red hair you'd grown to love so much. Emerie high fived you, fingers linking together as the newly added Pegasus charms on your woven friendship bracelets made a soft clink.

You were bold, especially with these 3, and your interest in the sex scene you all had just read was immediately noticed. “I mean,” Nesta genuinely laughed, “Who wouldn't want to have sex with their mate in front of their equally attractive friends?”

Gwyn shrieked, “Nesta!”

A deep throat cleared at that, reminding the four of you that you were in an open room of the House of Wind. That Cassian and Azriel were sitting right next to you. Gwyn shrunk further into her chair, Azriel smirking and chuckling at his.. whatever they had decided they were today, meanwhile Cassian had his eyes locked on you, a brow raised as you began to play with that bracelet. Deep pink, deep orange, and a purple-y navy stared back at you, the blend reminding you of a sunset. “Something to say, General,” Nesta looked her former lover up and down. “Y/n isn't interested.”

Oh, but you were, and he wasn't blind to that. “Just think this is interesting, that's all,” he grumbled. “Especially considering, y/n gets flustered when someone so much as touches her hips to adjust her stance.” Your glare shot his way as your friends began to laugh. Azriel hid a chuckle behind his hand. The tension between you and Cassian had been growing, especially due to the private hand to hand lessons he was giving you.

“You grabbed me by my inner thigh,” you retorted, eyes rolling.

“And you turned the same shade of red aa the threads on that bracelet Ness wears,” he stated. “You talk a big game, sweetheart. Someone is going to call you on your shit one day.” If you were a smarter female, you would have realized that was a warning.

Cassian was showing no mercy the next night as he threw you to your hands and knees for the fourth time in your 2 hour session. “What the hell, Cass?!” You were panting as you sat back in your heels. “Did you not get the memo that I am just a girl?”

His eyes rolled, “Stand up.” The part of you that had never responded to demands well sent him a look, head tilted back to study his imposing frame. The look you gave him was enough to break his calm. He was a General, a commander, practiced and poised, but you were ruining him. The tension between the two of you was ruining him. He had denied himself so much in this life, lost so much more. Why deny both of you what he knew you both wanted?

“You know what,” he muttered more to himself than you. “I can't do this anymore.” A hand found its way into your hair, strands wrapping around strong fingers as he pulled you to one of the benches, forcing you between his legs as he sat. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What-”

“Show me what you brag to your little friends about. Show you these skills you think you have.”

Your flush began immediately, “Cassian-”

"I knew it," he interrupted you, “Admit you're inexperienced.”

“I'm not inexperienced! I'm just shy!”

He studied you, hazel eyes taking in every inch of your skin as if you were some display. Even with your clothing on, you had never felt more exposed under his gaze. “Shy but can run your mouth to Ness? To Gwynie? To Em? Are you shy or do my hands make you shy?”

That furthered the flush as said large hand pulled your hair, angling your head back to look at him. “Cass-”

“I'm so tired of hearing you speak.” His lips crashed on yours then, forcing you into his lap, legs straddling one of his much larger thighs. Even like this, Cassian towered over you, consumed your frame. You had never considered yourself the smallest female, but with Cassian? Every female could feel small with Cassian.

His free hand slid down, tracing the curve of your breast, your waist, your hips before grabbing and squeezing your left thigh, forcing it over his other leg so you were fully straddling him and open to him.

He pulled back, lips still close as you tried to catch your breath, “Good,” he almost seemed to vibrate with his lust. “That's my Good Girl.”

There was no patience as he pulled your training top off, no ceremony as he took your bra off after it. Cassian was a male in need, something you felt every time he moved and his hips ground his covered length against you.

A silent prayer was sent to the Gods, thanking them for Nesta being in Autumn with Eris for the next week. While it didn't promise no one would walk into the training ring on you two, it did promise at least Nesta wouldn't. His mouth moved down your neck, kissing and nipping until he found the spot that had you melting to his form. “That's it,” his voice had grown deep as he licked at your skin. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Maybe it was because your brain stopped functioning. Maybe it was because something in you just seemed to float in his presence, but you didn't remember getting laid back on the mat, nor your leather pants slowly removed inch by inch as he whispered praise. You didn't remember his own clothing meeting the pile of yours somewhere off to your side. But you remembered his kiss bringing you back to him, “So we go dumb?” He forced you to nod. “I bet you just love being cock drunk, don't you, princess,” the nod wasn't forced this time, his smirk growing as he looked to the sky as if to say his own thank you.

His hands and lips explored every inch, the soft gasps and noises you made his consent, the way you squeezed his fingers encouragement. His tongue swirled your nipple, wetting the tender nerves before latching onto it, rolling and sucking. You couldn't help but arch your back, whispering his title, his name.

“You sound like I imagined you would,” he murmured as he kissed his way to your other breast, offering the same treatment as his words shot to your core. He had imagined you. Imagined how you would sound below him, maybe on top of him.

His kisses began to trail lower, paying extra attention to the sensitive spots he found. He stopped at the hem of your panties, eyes glancing to meet yours, “This is your chance to tell me to stop. If I keep going, that's it. It's you being manhandled by me until I'm done with you, understand?”

The whimper that left your throat at that was almost sinful, “Cassian, please.”

“Use your words,” he demanded. “Use that your mouth to tell me what you want done. You like to run it when you think I'm not listening. Talking about how you want to ride cock and be tied up and used like you aren't telling everyone my dreams.”

Another whine as he licked your core, protected from that skilled tongue by thin lace. “Words,” he demanded again.

“Please taste me.” The tear of fabric followed that plea, all caution thrown to the wind as he dived in.

Cassian wanted to taste every inch of your core. His tongue running over the left side, the right, your clit, your wet entrance. Emerie had told you once enthusiastic partners made sex better and you knew why now. Cassian not only knew what he was doing, but it was clearly his pleasure to be doing it. Each plunge of his tongue inside of you was met with him moaning or groaning, lips vibrating the sensitive parts of your body and building the feeling desperation that slowly wanted to kick in. You sat up on your elbows, watching him as he glanced up, hazel eyes dark and watching your face. Each reaction was a reward to him, your heart seeming to tug at the pride gleaming in his eyes at each little noise that escaped you.

No novel compared to this.

No words could describe it.

Your stomach was growing tight, head falling back as he feasted as if you were the most delicious meal he'd had in over 500 years of life. His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, tongue making half circle shapes around your far too aching clit as a thick finger ran your core and gently pushing in.

“Cassian,” your body seemed to shutter in pleasure, tightening around that single digit. “Cauldron fry me,” you moaned as he curled his finger up, immediately locating that special spot inside of you.

This was just his finger. Just his finger had you feeling like you were stretching to a limit as he worked his tongue and hand in time, the band inside of you going taunt. He was careful as he added in a second, watching your face as if he knew. As if he could feel that little panic building in your mind.

He washed it away as he changed how his tongue was moving, now giving teasing motions with just the tip directly where your body was screaming to be touched. He watched your eyes close, watched your guard drop as your hips moved, wanting to ride his face and fingers. He would have normally allowed it, but not this time. Not when he so desperately wanted control and to prove you were all talk. Not when he so desperately wanted you to be his. Your walls began to tighten again, his name becoming something you couldn't even finish as your gasps and panting increased.

Then you tumbled. You fell from the edge, squeezing those two fingers so hard he struggled to work you through your high with them. His free forearm pushed down on your hips, forcing you to stay still and at his mercy. He only slowed down when your trembling did, fingers coming out of you so he could lick them clean, his own hazel eyes fluttering shut. He moved up, kissing you again and forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Off,” you begged, mind going hazy as you tugged his own leathers. Your request was met, Cassian standing over you as you instantly moved to your knees, watching his hands unlace before pulling down. His cock stood hard for you. It was thick, long, veins in places you knew were going to touch the perfect spots inside of you.

Cassian was larger than any male you'd ever been with, and it had been a while since you had been with anyone. He was a challenge, one you were prepared to meet as you felt your mind fully slip away. “Open,” he whispered. His own stomach flipped with excitement when you obeyed, hand grabbing your high ponytail as he moved his hips and your head forward. This was something you knew, mind immediately working on the sole goal of his pleasure as you began to lick and suck, head bobbing. His hips met your pace, not pushing or forcing. “Just like that, sweetheart. Putting that mouth to good use for once,” he groaned. He tasted of something purely Cassian. Of salt and power. “You look beautiful like this,” his hips increased slightly, encouraging you to do so as well. “Mouth wrapped around my cock, looking up at me with those pretty eyes. Such a good girl.”

He wouldn't give you the satisfaction of making him finish like this. No. He wanted that to happen when he was buried inside of you, you ass bouncing with each thrust he would give you. He watched you closely as you sucked him off, tongue and lips wetting him until he was sure he wouldn't last if you kept going.

Whines of protest left you as he pulled you off, walking you the bench and forcing you to crawl with his grip on your hair. “Hands on the bench.” An order you were not dumb enough to deny, positioning yourself as he asked. He kneeled behind you, kissing your spine as he forced a knee up on the bench as well. It wasn't comfortable, but it would be effective. “Breathe.” Another command from the General of the Night Court as he lined up with you and began pushing in.

“Gods!” Each inch of him seemed to knock the air from your lungs, your breathing ragged. “Cassian, I can't-”

“You can,” he silenced you. “Breathe. Breathe like we taught you.” He timed his entrance with each deep breath, groaning once he was fully inside of you. His hand went to the small of your stomach, dirty thoughts about wanting to be big enough he could feel and see himself inside of you.

The first rock of his hips had you almost shouting your moans. He reached places you'd never known. Places no one had ever touched. You were like a vice around him, the stretch burning and adding to your pleasure as he began to move, stroking that building fire with care. It didn't long for the training area to smell like sex. To be filled with the sounds of his deep groans, you gasps and pleads, the sounds of skin hitting.

His hands reached forward, wanting more control of you as he grabbed your arms, holding and forcing them behind your back and making you arch more for him. Helpless. You were helpless.

And that's when the Cassian Nesta had described to you all began.

His thrusts became fast and hard, hitting your g spot over and over. His hand that wasn't holding your wrists found your throat, resting there and giving one squeeze to test the waters. You couldn't even moan his name anymore as that fire grew, all words were lost to you, all thoughts eddied before falling to silence. Your body wanted to feel. And feel you did.

Every drag was a spark, every word he whispered in your ear a kindling. You would burn. You would burn alive if he didn't stop. That tension built again, faster than it had with any other partner.

Cassian was a God. No one could convince you otherwise as those scarred lips pressed against your temple. “I won't last,” he muttered. “You're too warm. Too tight. You have me, princess. You and this pretty pussy.” He smirked as a wanton moan left your throat, the heat of his body sending you into overdrive.

You wouldn't last either.

Frankly, you didn't want to.

His hand squeezed your throat again, his pace becoming less patterned and wild. He was chasing your high like a predator closing in on its next meal, and when you seemed to freeze, body tensing before a scream tore through you, he served himself.

“That's it, y/n. Doesn't that feel so right, angel? Falling apart with me inside of you,” he grunted as he fought off his own high. “You feel like heaven, y/n. So good, baby. So fucking good.” His voice prolonged your high, forcing you into a state of overstimulation. You collapsed against him, body putty to his will as he chased his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” he yelled before you felt him give one last hard push into you, warmth spreading as his spilled inside. His hands moved, one shooting out to wrap around your hips, forcing you to stay down. The one found the bench, stopping the forward motion from you both falling into it, protecting you even as his mind clouded to the feeling of you squeezing around him.

This didn't just feel like heaven. It was heaven.

He moved your leg down once he was done, his hand now finding your chin to tilt your head and kiss you softly. “You did so well,” he said against your swollen lips. “So responsive for me. Felt so good. Was it good, sweetheart?” You only nodded, biting your lower lip as he showered you with more praises. “Let's get you dressed so I can get you in a bath.”

Your arms held his right one once you two were dressed and walking towards the house. He only paused when the door opened, and Azriel sighed, holding Gwyn against him as she blushed and squirmed, “You couldn't have kept going,” Azriel teased. “Gwyn was enjoying the show.” Your face fell, realizing you had been caught and watched. Teal eyes met yours, her own blush spreading out from where Azriel had a hand on her mouth. “Come on, my light,” Azriel purred to her. “Time to go do dagger training.”

Cassian laughed as he continued pulling you in the house, pulling you to his room, to his tub.

You could face the consequences of Nesta potentially finding out later. All that mattered now was the feel of his hand, slipping down your body and below the water for round two.

General Taglist:

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#elizabeths.updates #send asks #send anons #acotar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian acosf #cassian acotar #cassian smut

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niqhtlord01 · 10 months ago

Text

Humans are weird: Human cameramen are crazy

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The greatest decision Intergalactic Wave 6 ever made was hiring Reggie Bradford.

At the time of Finch’s hiring IW6 was a relatively small news organization based in the outer worlds. Barely reaching four systems on a good day compared to the top contenders like Celestial Times which was broadcasted in inner core systems and pulled in an average of twenty to thirty systems each broadcast. The anchors for IW6 were locals, a Temrelien that needed a third grade translator unit just to be barely understood and a Myporie which couldn’t see the color green.

As the underdog’s underdog, IW6 more often fed off larger stories reported by other stations or small local stories relevant to a handful of worlds. Nothing interesting happened in their corner of the universe so as long as they broke even they were fine to never reach further than the length of their arm.

Reggie Bradford was a hired on as a cameraman to work for one of the planetary studios on Orbin VIII. You’d find him either working in the back making sure the camera bots were functioning or, more often, when they weren’t he’d be manning the forty pound cameras himself. The studio crews were always amazed how this seemingly out of shape man could heft the heavy outdated camera unit like it was as light as a pen.

They wondered what a lone human was doing so far out in the boonies as he would say, but he would always shrug and say that he felt like this is where he belonged; a notion IW6 would be most grateful for in the coming days.

When the Intherax/Coalition war broke out it was the biggest news story to hit the plasma streams since the death of Empress Karen III when she was eaten by her own corganai.

The Intherax were a militaristic society, trained from birth to kill before anything else, and spanned some fifty star systems not including client kingdoms and vassals. General galactic dealings with them often boiled down to standing aside from whatever they wanted and hoping it wasn’t you or your world, lest the invasion armadas would descend and obliterate what little civilization your people had been able to achieve and then be sold into slavery.

This time however when the Intherax made a proclamation to annex the colony worlds of Jense, Shatu’a, and New Hamburg the current occupants politely told them to bugger off and formed a Coalition for mutual defense. From there dozens of governing powers flocked to the coalition and added their strength to it in what they saw as the best chance of finally checking Intherax aggression once and for all.

Ever one for a challenge, the Interax declared war on this new found coalition and opened the conflict by orbital bombarding Jense until it was little more than a cold husk of rock trapped in the decaying orbit of its system’s sun.

What followed was best described as two sides of no holds bar warfare as the Coalition retaliated with the first ever invasion of Intherax territory against the world called Kai’de.

Naturally every news organization wanted to be seen covering the war, including IW6. Sadly they did not have anyone either brave enough to send so they settled on sending someone they believed was stupid enough and sent Reggie.

They expected to get some b-roll of soldiers marching or shots of fleet warships in formation. They never expected nor asked him to go into active combat. So when the first feed came back during their late night broadcast they were surprised to see that Reggie was onboard an assault ship breaking through atmosphere.

“Reggie,” the Temrelien spoke with every other word shifting tone from the broken translator, “where are you?”

“I’m currently with brave members of the 27th Dragoons as they head to take the fight to the surface of Kai’de.”

Reggie waved a hand at the soldiers who in turn gave a rousing cheer and slammed their feet against the metal decking.

“Orders came in late last night for a massed landing to take the enemy by surprise. From what I understand the Intherax military had not expected coalition forces to invade their territory and have not had time to establish proper defenses.”

Both news anchors looked at each other in confusion.

“If that’s the case isn’t this broadcast putting the entire attack at risk?”

To their surprise Reggie laughed as the camera shook.

“The plan was to get them by surprise, but judging from the amount of anti-air fire,” he said as the assault ship rocked back and forth, “I don’t think they were fooled.”

The camera panned right suddenly as one of the armored dragoons grabbed it and spoke directly into it.

“We want them to know we’re coming! Because we’re going to kill them all!! AHAHAHAH!!”

Another chorus of cheers and whoops came from the soldiers as the soldier let go of the camera and Reggie readjusted it. The anchors wanted to continue their questions when the leader of the dragoons shouted out and interrupted them.

“60 seconds!”

With the order given the soldiers stopped their foolery and began hefting their weapons. Reggie panned the camera over them as they slapped in fresh clips or attached power cables from their backpack generators to their more heavy weaponry.

In awestruck silence the anchors and their viewers watched as the assault shuttle slammed hard into the surface and the boarding ramp flew open.

“GO GO GO GO!!!!” the dragoon leader shouted as the soldiers poured out screaming their battle cries. Reggie waited and filmed them as they disembarked but did not join the first out the ramp. A inclination that saved him as enemy gun fire began raking the ramp striking several soldiers down in clouds of viscera and gore.

The censors barely had time to cut the feed while the horrified anchors composed themselves to resume the broadcast.

In the hours that followed IW6 confirmed that Reggie had survived the battle and had been with the unit of dragoons for the entire duration. During those hours he had recorded the entire engagement from ramp down, to storming city streets as the Intherax deployed building sized walkers, to the hoisting of the coalition flag over the central governing building at the heart of the city.

With this footage viewership numbers for IW6 skyrocketed overnight as none of the other networks had been able to capture such stunning footage. In fact, by the intake of broadcasts none of them had been able to attach an anchor or cameramen to the initial assault save for Reggie. When asked how he had been able to get approved for such a deployment he did not say which only further added to the mystery. Yet for the moment IW6 was far from ready to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Reggie’s footage was shown over and over on IW6 and was soon sublicensed to other networks and shown there. Exploits of the dragoons became known galaxy wide as Reggie followed them through battle after battle; never afraid to risk his life to capture the perfect moment.

When the Intherax fleet arrived in orbit and began to bombard the planet while also fighting the coalition fleet Reggie had forgone sheltering in nearby bunker complexes to film the orbital strikes as they hurtled down all around them.

Thick columns of pure energy shattered buildings and mountains alike as the ground quaked and there stood a lone Reggie filming it all. Even when the anchors begged him to find shelter he simply panned the camera over the city to show entire skyscrapers be reduced to molten mounds the oozed and sludged through the city streets.

By the time the battle had finally ended thanks to Reggie’s footage IW6 climbed the viewership charts to be the third most watched network galaxy wide. Much to the dismay of IW6 it also drew the attention of Reggie the cameraman to the other outlets who began showering him with ever more lavish offers for employment.

Too their surprise he denied them all and said that he was right where he belonged.

#humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #cameraman #news broadcast #space news

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vivwritescrappythings · 4 months ago

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meum cor

marcus acacius x fem!reader

part 2

Your father had raised you for one purpose: to be a very rich man's wife someday. As it turns out, that man is Marcus Acacius, the renowned general himself.

a/n: Thank you for this lovely request! Instead of a princess I made reader the daughter of a rich merchant in Rome, but I hope you like it! I am on the fence about a part 2 right now.

tw: fem reader, afab reader, reader is shorter than Marcus, reader has long hair, social norms of ancient rome, vague description of a chariot crash, your imaginary dad is a misogynist, not proofread, Marcus may be poorly written.

word count: 5.1k

masterlist

Being born a woman in Rome was being born shackled. Your life depended on being a mother, a wife. The servitude of others would be your shining opus, the symbol of a life well-lived. It was hard to imagine, your mother passed away when you were just a babe.

In the privacy of your mind, you imagined growing up to become a soldier or a scholar like your brothers. The desire for independence itched beneath your skin. But that would not be your fate. You were committed to your loom and learning to run a household and being a good wife someday.

After years agonizing over who to marry you off to, your father had finally found a man suitable enough: General Marcus Acacius.

His decision was twofold: help your brothers get better positions in the Roman army and increase his influence by tying you to one of the most powerful generals in the empire.

It was no matter that he was nearly twenty years your senior–your father assured you it was a common match. There was nothing for you to worry about, it would be a great honor for your family for you to marry General Acacius. No use in arguing, or pouting, or fighting against it.

Your father’s word was law.

You ruminated over the mysterious General Acacius for weeks. All you could consider was what your future husband was like, agonizing about any scrap of information you could learn about him. He had spent most of the past few years fighting in battles: the conquest of Armenia, of Parthia, of Germania. A man obsessed with legacy. You could only imagine the amount of blood on his hands–how many people had he killed to aid the sprawling Roman Empire?

At his age he had never been married before. You had expected to be his second wife, men his age looking to marry were widowers more often than not. Perhaps he had been too dedicated to his military career to consider marriage… or you had heard stories of men who preferred the company of other men.

If anything, that could make him an amicable husband. Simply marrying you for your dowry and allegiance to a merchant, but otherwise left you to your own devices?

You could live a life that way.

The walk to Palatine Hill did not take you and your father long, the fall weather just starting to cool after a long summer. In truth, you had never even spoken to anyone that lived on Palatine Hill, let alone visited a domus there. Each one was more elegant than the last, elegant homes that exuded affluence with beautiful entryways and manicured grounds.

The amount your father was offering for your dowry must have been staggering.

Being a merchant had its benefits. You were sure your father offered access to the best imports and potential to take over a few ships if he wished to step down from his post as general.

Marcus’s domus was mixed in with the rest, your father nodding to the guards and stating his business. They let you pass without issue. Marcus had invited you and your father to visit his home and they would attend the chariot race that afternoon. It was the final step to securing his agreement to your marriage, ensuring that he deemed you suitable enough to take as his wife.

Your father had been frantically preparing you, training you in proper topics of discussion and how to answer any questions Marcus had. The strategy simply turned into allowing your father to answer any and all questions and smiling demurely in the background. Better seen, not heard.

The autumnal sun slanted into the atrium, shining off the impluvium and illuminating the space. It was sparsely decorated: reception benches positioned strategically around the space, a few tapestries hung on the walls. The most intriguing part of the room was the mosaic in the impluvium, an intricate scene of a gold octopus and colorful fish embedded in the tile. You stared at it for a long time while a servant ran to fetch Marcus from deeper within the household.

Before you realized, he stood before you.

You were surprised to see him dressed so simply—he did not look like the decorated general you had expected. The only indication of his status was the deep burgundy cape clasped over his chest, the clasp and embroidery shining gold. He was broad and tall, his head full of dark curls that were starting to go gray at the temples. His beard was going gray at the jowls. But his gaze was focused on you and your father, his deep umber eyes taking you in. There were a few scars on the tanned skin you could see, the permanent furrows of a scowl above his curved nose.

But he was handsome.

The thought caught you so off-guard that you nearly tripped on air, heeding your father’s beckoning hand to stand near him. You did not realize that you could find a man twice your age to be handsome, or even pleasing to the eye.

“Justus Acacius,” your father began, his voice booming through the atrium as he put on a show of joviality that he did not feel, “I am pleased to see you once more, and for you to finally meet my daughter.”

Your father gestured to you with a sweeping hand. You inclined your head politely, eyes downcast. “I am honored, Justus Acacius,” you murmured, keeping your gaze on the polished stone. The name felt unfamiliar on your tongue: it was the first time you spoke it aloud.

The weight of his appraising stare was palpable, you did all you could to stay still beneath it. The last thing you wanted was for Marcus to think you weak-willed. You forced yourself to stay calm, your breaths slow and even.

Then came approval in the form of a slight nod–nothing more than a partial lift of his chin. You glanced up, finding his expression unreadable. “Welcome to my domus, I trust the way here was not too taxing,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone. You understood how soldiers could fall into line at his shout—it commanded attention.

Marcus turned to your father, clasping his shoulder in a firm grip that spoke of their familiarity. “Your daughter is a beautiful maiden, Tiberius. You did not over exaggerate.” You glanced at your father, eyebrows ticking up in question. You did not realize that he had bragged about your appearance–in your list of accomplishments he tended to leave it off.

“Come, let us retire to the triclinium. I have refreshments waiting.”

You followed dutifully, taking in the extravagance of his home. The build of it spoke of opulence, prim white stone forming the walls and meticulously carved columns. For all its grandeur it lacked the details, there were a few busts placed in alcoves and the odd tapestry on the wall. They looked old, the fibers slightly frayed–passed down from mother to son, most likely.

“It requires a feminine touch,” Marcus said, noticing how you were looking around. “Something I am certain my future wife will be able to supplement.”

Your father bristled at the way his statement was open-ended, no guarantee in sight that you would be that future wife in question. It seemed that your supposed beauty was not enough to secure a betrothal.

The triclinium was furnished with three low couches around a dark table, your father claiming the couch in the center and forcing you and Marcus to sit apart from one another. The table was littered with fruits, cured meats, and pastries, but you did not have the stomach for any of it. You took a fig to be polite, taking miniscule bites of it.

Your father and Marcus ate seemingly without concern, grazing as they spoke idly of politics and distant lands the Emperors wished to conquer. It all sounded frivolous to you, the impending doom of your marriage looming over your head like an executioner’s axe. You were so preoccupied in your thoughts that you did not realize Marcus had spoken to you until your father had cleared his throat.

“Tell me,” Marcus said, turning to face you as he handed your father a goblet of wine before pouring one for himself, “what are your interests? Your skills? I would like to know more about the woman I am to wed.”

He leaned against the cushions, the embodiment of relaxation as he drank. His arms crossed over his broad chest, the muscle moving beneath his tanned skin like snakes.

You took a breath, opening your mouth to answer before your father interrupted you.

“She is excellent with a loom,” your father proudly offered, the metal cup hanging from his fingers as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “She took over the duties of my late wife when she was just a girl, and, dare I say, the fabrics she weaves are even more fine than her mother’s.”

Your father did not even allow Marcus time to respond, launching into his next point with gusto. “She also is proficient with the flute and knows how to dance. My wife and I had wanted her to become a Vestal, but the goddess did not call upon her.”

“I assure you, Justus Acacius, she is well prepared to run a household in your absence,” he promised, wetting his lips with the wine to hide the anxious set of your mouth.

Marcus listened intently to your father’s praise of your skills, one eyebrow slightly arched. He took a sip of his own wine, the ruby liquid leaving a faint stain on his full lower lip.

“Raised modestly as well,” Marcus remarked, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk. The touch of humor surprised you, your cheeks warming as you hid your smile. You took a larger bite of the fig so you did not have to school your expression, the ripe fruit sweet on your tongue.

He set his metal cup down on the wooden table with a soft clink. There was a moment of pensive silence before Marcus cleared his throat, fixing your father beneath his penetrating stare. “I am pleased to hear of your daughter’s talents. They will serve her well as a Roman matron.” He paused, the weight of his words sinking in. “However, I would like to hear it from her. Tell me, how would you intend to manage a household in your husband’s absence?”

His cool gaze drifted back to you, dark eyes glinting with curiosity and a hint of a challenge. The pregnant silence held the expectation of your response.

It was unusual. Most men were comfortable to allow your father to speak for you, preferring women seen rather than heard. It was the first time a man had asked you for your own words. You found the image of him that you created in your mind rewriting itself.

“As for running a household–I am literate,” that simple fact already put you a step ahead of many women you knew, “my father went through the additional effort of hiring tutors to teach me grammar and how to use an abacus. Now that I am of age I have handled my father’s affairs a few times when he left on trading expeditions–both of my brothers are serving in the army so it fell upon me to manage the responsibilities.”

You paused for a moment, taking a breath as you looked up at Marcus. He was watching intently, holding a terrifyingly neutral expression. “As for running your household, I would study your previous ledgers and discuss your strategy of managing your assets before you were to leave.”

The silence of the room was deafening–you could hardly stand it. “If anything, I rather enjoy calculations with the abacus,” you said, babbling to fill the dead air. You could feel your father’s glare without needing to look at it. “At times I have done them simply to pass the time, seeing how much I can challenge myself.”

Marcus nodded slowly, dark eyes glinting with amusement as the corner of his lip threatened to turn up. He downed the rest of his cup of wine, clasping his hands together in front of him for a moment as his gaze dragged over your form.

“I find your honesty refreshing. It is clear you are well-equipped to be a devoted wife and manage a household of this size,” he said as he stood, towering over you and your father. You were holding your breath, waiting for the verdict as though you would receive your death sentence. “I believe this match will be beneficial for all of us.”

And you could breathe once more.

You looked up at Marcus, trying to reconcile that the man would be your husband. It had not felt real until he acknowledged the match. Part of you had assumed that he would change his mind upon meeting you, opting to marry some Senator’s daughter instead of the daughter of a merchant.

But he would have you as his bride. His wife.

Marcus turned to your father, broad shoulders squared. “Tiberius, have you ever sat trackside at the chariot races? I was planning for us to use my seats,” he said, taking a step back to leave the room. You knew your father would be pleased by his offer, sitting with Senators and dignitaries had always been his aspiration.

The sun was shining in through the arches leading to the courtyard, high in the clear sky. The races would surely start soon.

Your father accepted readily, the two of you standing quickly. He arranged for your cousin to meet you at Circus Maximus to escort you home–it was inappropriate for a woman of your social class to walk by herself through the streets of Rome.

“Tell me, my lady, would you care to join us? I have found that a touch of excitement and spectacle can be invigorating for the soul,” Marcus said, his words an open invitation.

You could not help but glance at your father for his approval–he had always considered the races too aggressive for the fairer sex. They had always intrigued you, the sheer size of Circus Maximus always caught your gaze when you were near. Sometimes you could hear the crowds cheering.

After a moment of deliberation your father nodded, albeit less enthusiastically than he could have. “It will be good for the two of you to spend time together in public, it will serve to announce the union prior to the ceremony.”

“Excellent,” Marcus murmured, holding his hand out palm up for you to take. There were callouses on his palm and fingers that spoke of training long hours with a sword and shield. The spread between his fingers was wide, your hand disappearing in his hold as he pulled you up to your feet. “Let us be off.”

–

Circus Maximus was a buzz as you took your seats, your breath stolen by the enormity of the track and the stadium surrounding it.

You had never seen so many people in one place, the stands roaring. Marcus’s seats were in the first row. Senators filled in the space around you, your gaze drawn to the broad purple stripes on their tunics. If you had known you would be meeting Senators you would have dressed differently.

It had already taken you far too long to weave the palla you were wearing over your crisp ivory tunic–a band of yellow following the hemline of the rich crimson fabric. Your father had insisted you wear the jewelry your mother had passed down to you, gold bracelets adorning both wrists and a matching choker clasped at your throat. But you still felt underdressed–you would have braided your hair more intricately or added a band over your bicep.

“My lady, are you alright?” Marcus asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you blinked at him for a moment. You could feel your cheeks warming, sheepish that you were caught in your reverie.

“Yes, General Acacius,” you breathed, a self-conscious smile twisting the corners of your lips. You did not want him to worry about your comfort. “I was simply gathering my surroundings–this is my first time inside Circus Maximus.I hope you do not take offense to my naivety.”

His surprise was palpable, dark eyebrows lifting toward his hairline and eyes rounding. Then his expression melted into a smirk, his head bending toward yours. “Well, I will find great enjoyment explaining the sport to you if you are willing to listen,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear him.

He was close enough that it felt like a secret between the two of you, a chill running up your spine despite the warm autumnal sun. You found yourself enjoying it.

“Of course, if it is not too much trouble.” Your entire life was dedicated to taking up as little space as possible, your father’s devastation over having a daughter known to you as soon as you were old enough to understand what his rebukes meant.

Marcus’s brow furrowed, his gaze tracking to where your father was speaking with some Senator before coming back to you. “My lady,” he murmured, voice a tick lower as his fingers brushed a loose piece of hair from your face, “you will soon be my wife. I intend to bring you to these events, and they will be more enjoyable if you understand the rules.” His hand cupped the side of your neck, warm against your skin.

You tried not to shy away from his touch, his skin rough against yours. A man had never touched you so intimately before. The frantic beat of your heart filled your ears for a moment, you were sure he could feel the hammer of your pulse against his hand.

“Alright, explain it to me,” you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment as you folded your hands in your lap. You twisted the fabric of your palla over your fingers, not sure if he expected you to return the touch or simply accept it. Perhaps you were thinking about it too hard–too worried about misstepping and causing Marcus to change his mind.

But he seemed pleased, releasing you to turn and face the track fully. “Those gates down there are where the chariots start,” you followed the sweep of his arm with your eyes, “they run around the center barrier, the spina, to reach seven laps around the track first.”

You listened intently, bracing one hand on the carved stone rail as you leaned forward. The spina surprised you with its intricacy, obelisks and statues decorating the center of it. There were water features mixed in with the artwork, gilded columns on each end of the barrier indicating turning points.

“Are there teams?” you asked, glancing at Marcus before looking at the track again.

He nodded, eyes seemingly lighting up at your questions. “Yes, today the Red and White teams will race,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees as his gaze drifted to your palla. “You are dressed aptly, for I support the Reds.”

“It must have been the goddess Fortuna guiding me this morning,” you said with a grin, almost looking smug.

Your father pulled Marcus’s attention from you, asking questions about which team he supported and if he had placed any wagers. It was hard to hear his reply, their voices getting lost in the din of the stadium.

Solitude amongst a crowd was something you were taught to be used to, your mind occupying itself with silly games. You counted the number of obelisks in the spina, the number of stadium sections you could see, the number of people in the lowest section across from you.

The thoughts of your upcoming wedding ceremony drifted into your mind–would your aunt take the place of your mother? Would she dress you the morning of the ceremony? Tie the Herculean knot at your waist in wool? You could hardly imagine Marcus taking you from her arms during the wedding procession–you and your aunt were little more than strangers. But she was the only woman in your family, the responsibility would fall to her.

“My lady?” You felt a nudge to your side. Marcus and your father were looking at you, you noticed a vendor standing in the aisle.

“Yes? My apologies, I was lost in thought,” you said amiably, crossing your legs at the knee.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked, so conscientious of you that it was almost frightening. You were thankful it was loud enough that the sound of your stomach growling was audible.

Despite your hunger you shook your head, waving off his concern with a polite smile. “No, I am alright.” you said softly. You could see your father’s satisfied expression and nod over Marcus’s shoulder. Refusing was the right answer. “Thank you, General Acacius.”

“Nonsense, you hardly touched the food before we left,” Marcus said, turning to the vendor and shouting a few orders. He had a keen eye… you were not used to scrutiny. He took two clay pots from the vendor, handing you one of marinated green olives so he could pay the vendor. “Eat, and do not be afraid to ask for anything you see that entices you.”

“You are far too generous, Justus,” your father said, squinting in the sunlight as he looked at you. His disappointment was clear. But Marcus did not seem to notice or mind, simply placing both bowls into your hands. The other bowl had toasted hazelnuts and walnuts, the clay pot pleasantly warm in your hands. You placed both bowls on the carved stone step between yourself and Marcus, picking from them idly.

It was enough to satiate your stomach, staving off the dregs of your hunger until you made it home.

Then your gaze was drawn by a magistrate walking onto the track, a white flag held aloft and shining in the sun. Marcus caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, sitting up straighter. “Once he drops the flag, the race will begin,” he said to you with a glance to make sure you were paying attention.

It was quick. As soon as the flag dropped the gates opened, each chariot being pulled by four horses. The thunder of their hooves almost rivaled the cheers of the crowd as all twelve chariots flew down the track.

You watched with rapt attention, studying the way the charioteers had the reigns of the horses tied around their waists. The first two laps seemed to only be used for gaining speed, the chariots staying in their designated lanes before chaos broke loose.

The gasp that pulled from your throat when you watched a charioteer whip another one that got too close caught Marcus’s attention, making him bark out a deep laugh. You had lurched to your feet with the rest of the crowd, the adrenaline getting to you. “They will try to make one another crash as they vie for a position closest to the spina,” he said to you, a hand gently placed on the small of your back. The press of his palm on your spine brought you a step closer to him.

You watched with wide eyes, the red and white robed charioteers careening around the track without abandon. The horses kicked up clods of dirt with every hoofbeat, spraying anyone that dared be behind them. You understood why they had been spraying so much water over the track–an attempt to keep down the dust.

The first crash was brutal, two sets of horses tangling with one another. One charioteer cut himself free of the reins with a curved knife, jumping from the chariot and into the greenery that adorned the spina. The other one was not so lucky, the sound of wood splintering and cracking reaching your ears as you clapped a hand over your mouth. The other racers had to dodge the mess, narrow misses of the pileup making you wince.

“It is alright, the charioteers are alright, my lady,” Marcus said, his nose brushing against your hair as he spoke into your ear. You looked up, seeing the other man pull himself from the wreckage to safety. It helped you breathe easier, a nod coming from you.

There was one more crash during the race, a chariot clipped one of the columns and spun out of control. Marcus had pulled you to his side as the laps went on, you could feel his excitement through the way his fist clenched in the loose, draping fabric of your palla. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, brow furrowed as you watched the final stretch.

The teams were neck and neck, the entire stadium tense until the Reds pulled forward at the last moment. You let out a sigh of relief, your eyes slipping closed for a beat. Then you could hear Marcus laugh, loud and raucous. “Why I believe you must be a priestess of Fortuna herself, my lady, for the Reds have not come out victorious in the past fifteen races,” he said to you, crushing you to his side in a way that made you chuckle.

You had not expected ease at his side, and certainly not praise. Warmth covered your cheeks and neck as a genuine smile found its way to your face, your gaze casting up through your lashes to meet his. He released you after a moment, clapping your father on the back as they animatedly discussed the race.

There were a few more races that day, each one as chaotic as the last–but they were all Red wins.

–

Marcus had insisted on escorting you and your father back to your father’s domus as the sun began to set on the horizon. Your father’s property was grand in comparison to that of your neighbors, but with respect to Marcus’s estate it was a simple home.

Your favorite part were the orange and lemon trees growing on the property, filling the air with the scent of citrus as the sky turned pink. Marcus had accompanied you up to the atrium, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. Your father had sent a servant to fetch wine, anxious to continue impressing Marcus.

“I must bring you with me to all the chariot races, my lady,” Marcus said, his dark eyes raking from your head to your toes. “It seems that your presence bodes well for my luck.”

You shook your head, flattered as you covered your smile with your fingertips. “I believe you are too kind to me, General Acacius,” you murmured, unable to hide your grin from your voice.

You felt giddy, your father and Marcus had spent the entire journey to your father’s domus discussing dates for the ceremony. It was set for three weeks from that day, it would give you just enough time to alter your mother’s wedding gown to your tastes and to set a menu for the feast.

“Tiberius,” Marcus started, deep voice booming throughout the atrium, “would it be alright if I had a moment of privacy with your daughter? I would like to give her a gift so she does not forget me within the next three weeks.”

He hesitated for a moment before obliging, saying he would be just down the hall if you needed anything. You knew he would be standing just beyond the door.

“You have pleasantly surprised me,” he said, a hand running down the bare skin of your left arm until he held your wrist. Goosebumps lifted on your flesh, a shiver running down your spine as your breath caught in your throat. “I had expected this to be a marriage of necessity, but it seems to me that it has the potential to be much more.”

He pulled something from the folds of his tunic, the gold catching the light of the setting sun as he brought your left hand toward him. You realized that it was a ring–an engagement ring.

“I wanted to see before I gave this to you, just to be sure,” he murmured, his dark eyes focused on your hand as he threaded the ring onto the third finger on your left hand. “Ah, perfect fit. I should not have expected any less from my priestess of Fortuna.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you looked down at the ring. It was not as heavy as you had expected, sitting snug on your finger. It was believed that a vein connected your heart to the ring finger–but for some reason you had never imagined a ring occupying that space. It was simple, a design of two hands clasping on the center of the band. But the gold alone must have cost far too much.

“It is beautiful,” you breathed, a bit mystified.

Marcus’s hand clasped your chin, tilting your head up toward his. “It suits you,” he mumbled, dark eyes partially-lidded as he looked over your face.

His hand shifted, clasping the back of your neck. You were stretched onto your toes, leaning toward him with such fervor that you would fall forward if he stepped away. The air between you was warm, smelling of wine and roasted hazelnuts.

The first brush of his lips against yours was tentative, so cautious. It seemed like he was just testing, treating you like glass.

You should have pulled away, bashful and flustered and told him that you would have time to continue on your wedding day. That three weeks was not a long time to wait–a mere twenty four days away.

But you did not, hesitantly placing a hand upon his chest for stability as you stretched further into the kiss. Marcus let out a soft groan, the kiss deepening as his mouth slanted against yours. His beard and mustache tickled your delicate skin, but you found yourself enjoying the sensation. The broad stretch of his hands cradled your jaw, guiding you through the clumsiness of naivety into the kiss.

Your hand fisted in his tunic, pulling him toward you with some urgency. He let out a muffled grunt, a hand finding the curve of your hip.

He then pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he took in air. You could feel his chest move beneath your hand with each heavy breath. A smile curved his lips, genuine in a way you already found yourself cherishing.

“I will see you soon,” he murmured, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before untangling himself from you. “But I believe if I keep you any longer, your father will be suspicious.”

You let go of his tunic, nodding as you let go of him. He cupped your cheek in his hand, thumb running over your cheekbone before he bid you farewell, stamping another kiss upon your brow before leaving your father’s domus altogether.

The girlish giggle came from you before you could stop it, your hand covering your mouth as you looked down at the ring on your finger.

Bless the goddess Fortuna for your fate that day.

#marcus acacius x reader #pedro pascal x reader #marcus acacius #pedro pascal #marcus acacius x f!reader #arranged marriage au #reader insert #gladiator 2 #gladiator II #gladiator fanfiction

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orellazalonia · 5 days ago

Note

Ella,

I have a request if it seems of interest to you: a bucky x reader story pirate au where the reader is kidnapped by Bucky and his crew originally for ransom payment, but then Bucky realizes he's too much in love with the reader to dig himself out and ends up keeping the reader for himself. (Potentially a soft!dark!Bucky maybe???) But he wants to give the reader everything, no matter how battered he and his crew get when trying to get what Bucky wants to give the reader.

I love your writing, thank you and have a good day

Hello, dear! So, I’m afraid I’m going to have to do your request a little differently than the others. It’ll be in two-parts since I want to get this out before I leave as well as not make it ridiculously long. Therefore, do check back for part two later on tonight or tomorrow!

With that being said, this was such a fun and interesting request. I’ll definitely add more of the darker bits in the second part. I like setting the stage lol. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for the request and Happy reading!!!

Crimson Waters, Stolen Hearts

Summary: Captain Bucky Barnes commands a loyal crew who sails under a reputation for precision, power, and taking only what he needs. When he captures you, the beloved daughter of a powerful trading magnate, he claims it’s only for ransom, a means to an end to fund his next conquest. (Pirate AU! | Soft!Dark!Bucky Barnes x reader)

Word Count: 2.6k+

Main Masterlist | Part 2

The legend of Captain James Buchanan Barnes drifted on sea winds like smoke. Never seen for long, never caught, but always felt. Sailors spoke of him in hushed voices over cheap rum in dark taverns, describing a man built of iron and vengeance.

They said he was born from the wreck of a warship, that his left arm was forged from cannon shrapnel and blacksmith curses, and that he’d once sunk an entire fleet for touching the wrong woman’s hand.

But those were only stories.

The truth was sharper.

He’d once been a soldier, long ago. Fought in a war that buried too many good men. When the world forgot him, he disappeared into the ocean and never looked back. Now, he was the Captain of the Red Sabre, a war-painted beast of a ship with sails like blood-soaked banners and cannons that struck before warning.

Barnes wasn’t a loud man. He didn’t shout to command respect, he willed it. Eyes like storm clouds, hair always wind-tangled, beard flecked with salt. His voice was low and steady, the kind that curled around your throat before you realized you were being pulled under. He was known to slit throats with the same grace he drank tea. Known to spare a child’s life, only to raze a fortress an hour later.

The kind of man who did what needed to be done, no matter how many screams it took.

Yet, he didn’t kill for fun. That’s what made him dangerous. Barnes didn’t need chaos. He chose it. Carefully. Precisely. Like someone who’d seen peace and found it disappointing.

He had a loyal crew, half of them former prisoners, outlaws, and men broken by the world. But they all followed him. Because he never lost. And because there was still something strangely noble beneath the darkness, like the ghost of honor refusing to die.

And you?

You weren’t just another merchant’s daughter.

You were the keystone in an empire of wealth and diplomacy, the only child of Lord Alric Dorne, a man whose influence reached across oceans and kingdoms. Nobles bowed in his presence, generals owed him favors, and entire ports opened their gates at the mention of his name. Your family didn’t just fund trade, they controlled it. Routes, ships, goods, and even wars had been won or lost by your family’s gold. You were the kind of person pirates avoided, not because of your guards, but because of the retaliation your disappearance would bring.

You were the girl too valuable to touch.

And yet, you were no porcelain doll.

Educated in statecraft and warfare, fluent in multiple tongues, and sharper than most of the men who surrounded you, you were raised to inherit an empire, not simply survive within it. When dignitaries came to negotiate, it was often your voice they feared more than your father’s. And when ships set sail, your signature sealed the fates of cities. You carried the weight of legacy on your shoulders and the fire of rebellion under your skin.

Still, for all your power, you were restless.

The silk walls of high society had grown thin. The rules felt like shackles, the protection like a cage. You had begun traveling more frequently, escorting shipments under the guise of oversight, learning the routes, the ships, the whispers. You stood on deck in storm, eyes set not on the horizon, but what might lie beyond it.

The sea spoke to you, not with songs, but with promises: of danger, of freedom, of something more than obedience and expectation.

You didn’t know that your curiosity would catch the attention of the most dangerous pirate alive. You didn’t know that stepping onto that ship would make you a prize, not just for ransom, but for something far more complicated.

And you certainly didn’t know he’d been watching you from the moment your sails crested the edge of his world.

The sea was too calm that morning.

No gulls. No swell. Just the hollow groan of the current, and the kind of silence that even seasoned sailors didn’t trust. Aboard The Harrowcrest, your father’s prized trade vessel, the men shifted nervously, fingers brushing blades, and glancing over their shoulders as if the ocean itself might bite.

You stood near the quarterdeck, eyes on the map in your hands, unaware that several miles out, danger was watching. Stalking.

Hidden in a pale sheet of fog, The Red Sabre drifted like a predator waiting for the right breath of wind.

On the prow stood its captain, the man feared across every sea charted and uncharted. The Sabre was his monster, his kingdom, and his weapon. But this time, Barnes didn’t want gold. He didn’t want blood.

He wanted you.

The moment he saw you on that deck, focused, steady, and wind in your hair and fire in your eyes, he knew. He lowered the spyglass.

“That’s her,” He stated, quiet but firm.

Behind him, leaning on a cannon like he’d been born beside it, Sam Wilson, his quartermaster, raised a brow. “You sure? That’s the Dorne girl?”

“Positive,” Bucky muttered. “Staring straight down a map like she owns the sea.”

“You know this’ll paint a target on our backs, right?” Natasha, the red-haired helmswoman, spoke dryly from beside the wheel, chewing a sliver of jerky. “You kidnap her, you’re not picking a fight with a fleet. You’re picking a fight with a world.”

“And I’ll burn that world if I have to,” Bucky retorted without blinking.

Standing tall by the armory hatch, Steve Rogers, the captain’s first mate and Bucky’s oldest friend, gave a soft grunt of approval. “If you’re sure she’s worth it.”

“She is,” Bucky said, more to himself. “She’s not guarded like someone who knows her worth.”

“Or like someone who wants to be caught,” Natasha added under her breath.

He didn’t answer. Just stared.

And then:

“Prep the guns,” Bucky ordered, voice commanding and sharp. “Hooks, no cannonballs unless they fire first. Clint, you’re taking the rigging. Steve, you’re on the lead team.”

Clint, up in the crow’s nest already, gave a cocky wave. “Try to keep up.”

Within minutes, the Sabre sprang to life. The black sails unfurled, ropes pulled taut, and every crewmember moving with ruthless grace. Bruce, the quiet ship’s surgeon with hands far too precise for his own good, secured the infirmary. Tony, the surly weapons master below deck, prepped the cannons without being asked, grumbling, “Kidnap a girl, he says. Quietly, he says…”

The trap was set.

Your ship didn’t stand a chance.

The Harrowcrest went down fast and hard. The rudder shattered from a well-placed chain shot. Grappling hooks soared from the fog. Shouts erupted as boots thundered onto your deck. Your guards fought bravely until Steve personally disarmed two of them in seconds and Natasha danced through a trio like a blade wrapped in fire.

You, blade drawn, managed to slash one man across the thigh—Sam, who only winced and gave you a quick nod of respect before pinning your wrist.

You were furious. Fighting. Unbroken. And then he walked in.

Captain Barnes stepped onto the Harrowcrest’s deck like a storm breaking over still waters. Everything slowed. His coat moved with the wind. His metal arm glinted dully in the gray light. You could feel him before you saw him, his presence thick and cold like thunderclouds rolling in.

Two pirates held you fast, but your eyes locked with his the moment he approached. You expected cruelty. Or amusement. Or mockery.

But he only looked at you. His blue eyes sharp, cold. Interested.

“You’re her,” He said quietly, as if confirming something to himself.

“And you’re a dead man,” You hissed back.

His lips curved slightly. Not quite a smile. Something slower. Something darker.

“I like her,” He muttered to no one in particular. Then, louder: “Bring her aboard. Alive and unharmed.”

“What do you want?” You demanded.

He stepped close, too close, and leaned in just enough for you to hear the words against your ear:

“You’ll know soon enough, sweetheart.”

With a snap of his fingers, they dragged you away. And just like that, your fate was rewritten.

Not by politics. Not by power. But by a pirate whose gaze made your spine stiffen… and your heart beat just a little faster.

They didn’t throw you in a cell.

You expected rusted iron bars, chains, filth. Instead, you were brought to a small, private cabin tucked below the quarterdeck. It wasn’t luxurious but it wasn’t cruel. A sturdy cot. A desk bolted to the floor. A basin of fresh water. Even a window with thick glass that let in pale blue light.

The moment the door closed behind you, you turned and tried it. Locked, of course.

The storm of battle had faded into quiet outside. No screams, no clashing steel. Just the slow groan of ropes and sails, and the steady lap of water. The rhythm of a ship that knew what it was doing. A ship that didn’t panic.

Neither did you.

You paced the room like a caged animal, hands clenched. You knew what this was. A ransom. Political leverage. The daughter of Lord Dorne was worth more than most fleets combined. They wouldn’t hurt you… yet. Not if they wanted to see a single coin.

Still, the silence pressed in around you.

An hour passed. Then two.

Then the lock clicked. The door opened, and he walked in.

Captain James Barnes.

His coat was gone. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, showing the glinting metal of his left arm. He didn’t carry a weapon, he didn’t need one. His presence alone was sharp enough.

You straightened immediately, spine rigid, and chin lifted.

“I don’t care who you are,” You said coolly, “My father will never-“

“Refuse to pay for you?” He finished, voice low, even. “I’m counting on that.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know what taking me means. You’ve essentially declared war.”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I didn’t do anything. You just… vanished. Pirates are unpredictable like that.”

His gaze swept over you. Quick, unreadable. Not lascivious. Not kind. Just… measured.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” He added. “You’ll be fed. Protected. No one touches you.”

“Oh, how noble,” You snapped. “For a man who boards ships and steals people.”

He tilted his head, mildly amused. “I steal cargo. You’re a high-value shipment.”

You didn’t flinch, but you hated how calm he was. How methodical. How professional this all felt.

He took a step forward. “Do you know why I chose your ship?”

You didn’t answer.

“Because for someone so valuable,” He murmured, “You’ve been sailing dangerously far from your father’s reach. Alone. Curious. Maybe even bored.”

You swallowed hard, pulse kicking up.

“I was watching before we even closed in,” He admitted. “You don’t hide well.”

“And you don’t care what happens after this,” You bit out.

He didn’t answer right away.

Then: “I care about getting what I want.”

“And what is it you want, Captain?”

Bucky’s gaze held yours, steady and cold.

“A letter written in your hand to confirm you’re alive,” He said. “You’ll write it tomorrow.”

You stared.

“And then what?” You asked. “You chain me to the mast? Parade me around like a trophy?”

“No chains,” He spoke evenly. “And no parading.”

He turned to leave, then paused at the door.

“Eat something,” He said. “You’ll need your strength. Your father’s not the only one who’ll be looking for you.”

With that, he left you alone again, your heart pounding harder than it had during the raid.

You were supposed to be afraid. And you were. But more than that… You were intrigued.

Morning crept in slow.

You hadn’t slept, not really. The cot was decent enough, the rocking of the ship surprisingly gentle, but your mind had refused to settle. You lay there in your borrowed clothes (a simple linen tunic and trousers, practical and plain), staring at the wooden ceiling while the sounds of the ship carried on above and below. Boots on the deck. Ropes creaking. Low voices, too far to make out.

You weren’t afraid of them. But you knew better than to trust comfort where it wasn’t earned.

When the door opened just after dawn, it wasn’t the Captain this time.

It was Natasha.

Her braid was pulled over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. She glanced over you like one might check a weapon for cracks, then set a plate on the desk. “Eat,” She said simply. “You’ll walk the deck after.”

You sat up, brushing hair from your face. “And if I refuse?”

She met your eyes. “Then I bring Barnes. You don’t want that.”

You did eat. Not out of obedience, but calculation. You needed your strength. And because the pirate crew of The Red Sabre already seemed like the kind that would offer food and protection not out of kindness, but because they were waiting to see what they’d get in return.

By midmorning, you were led topside.

The light hit you like fire after a day below. You blinked through it, hand shading your face, the sea a glittering sprawl on all sides. There was no land in sight. Just blue, blue, and more blue until the color of the sails around you caught your eye.

Deep crimson.

The Red Sabre lived up to its name.

Men and women moved like clockwork across the deck, efficient and fast. You recognized several faces from the raid: Clint, perched high in the rigging like a bird of prey. Steve, near the helm, speaking low with Natasha. Sam moving crates.

No one spoke to you. They all looked, of course. But no one came close. You weren’t sure if it was respect… or something colder.

“Captain wants you to walk,” Natasha said beside you. “To know your legs work. He doesn’t like weakness.”

You raised a brow. “Does he also like letting his crew see his ransom prize out in the open?”

Natasha gave a barely-there smile. “If anyone tried anything without his say, they wouldn’t have hands left to try again.”

You believed her.

By the time the sun reached its peak, you were back in your cabin, heart pounding from the climb up and down ladders, across ropes and narrow walkways. It wasn’t torture, but it wasn’t freedom either. It was a game. You were being tested.

And then that knock again. Low. Rhythmic.

Captain Barnes stepped in, arms crossed, this time with a sealed letter in one hand.

“Sit,” He ordered. “Write.”

He handed you the parchment and a fountain pen. You glanced down. It was already addressed: To Lord Alric Dorne, from the hand of his daughter.

You looked up at him. “This is extortion.”

“It’s a transaction.”

“He’ll kill you.”

Bucky’s voice was calm. “He’ll try.”

You sat slowly. “And you think I’ll make this easy for you?”

“I think you will,” He said, “Because you know he won’t pay if he doubts it’s real. You’ll write your usual flair. Your tone. Your clever little turns of phrase. You’ll make it sound like you.”

“And if I don’t?” You tested, pen still poised.

His eyes narrowed just slightly.

“Then I stop being polite.”

There it was, that edge beneath the surface. The ice beneath the calm water. He hadn’t shouted. He hadn’t threatened. But it chilled your spine more than any scream ever could.

You wrote.

It wasn’t a long letter. But it was enough. Enough for your father to know you were alive, uninjured. Enough to know the pirates knew exactly who they’d taken.

When you handed it back, Bucky took it without reading.

“Good,” He said.

You stared at him. “What happens now?”

“Now?” He stepped back toward the door. “You stay alive.”

He paused, gaze lingering on you for a breath longer than before.

“And you get used to me.”

Then he was gone again.

Leaving you there with ink still drying on your hands, and a strange flutter in your chest you refused to name.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fic #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #pirate au #thank you for the request!#Request fulfilled

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qwimblenorrisstan · 10 months ago

Text

Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.

#cod mwii #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #task force 141 #tf 141 #johnny x reader #soap call of duty #soap x reader

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somanyratsinthewalls · 5 months ago

Note

Hello I very much enjoy your writing! Idk if this is where I can put in my request for the game but here it is:

Silver (kid) and (mentions of indigo killer) with prompt: “You're not taking me to bed. Not now, not ever”

I imagine kid’s flirting would come off as bullying. Leading to a rivalry where reader thinks he’s a hot asshole and wants to one-up him. And kid just CANNOT express his feelings and keeps it going to be close to them. Leading to this sexual tension between them that needs to be broken before they both perish from their bottled up feelings.

Again I love your writing! Keep it up!

Not Ever (18+)

THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST! (one of my favorites that I got hehe)

Pairing: Eustass Kid x Female Reader

WC: 2700

Prompt: “You’re not taking me to bed. Not now, not ever.”

TW: unprotected sex, angst, enemies to lovers, arrogant asshole kid, but also softie kid... oral, f receiving, nipple play, kissing, pet names, cream pies, emotions to an extent, theyre so cute idk? it's porn!

— —

Your captain drove you mad.

He was crass. Gross. Rude. Loud. Vulgar. Argumentative. Hard-headed. Huge. Muscular. Handso-

No.

He was a dick.

In every possible opportunity, Kid was a dick.

You ended up hitching a ride on the Kid Pirates ship for a few weeks and somehow found yourself never leaving after they realized you had advanced medical knowledge, being a nurse on your former island. You enjoyed the company of the crew and the dangerous life on the high seas excited you to no end. The only thorn in your side was the pain-in-the-ass captain. He busted everyone’s balls in the crew, but you knew he picked on you more than the others…

— —

“Oi! Y/n!” The harsh voice of Eustass Kid rung out on the deck, cutting through the crashing waves and pouring rain. “Pick up the fuckin’ slack! If we end up at the bottom of the sea in this storm I’ll raise you from the dead just so I can kill ye again!”

A loud crack of thunder sounded and flash of lightning lit up the ship.

“Wire hasn’t pulled a single rope and you’re yelling at me, ya shit bag?” You shout back, heaving coil after coil of sail rope over your shoulder, desperately trying to pull the sail down in the storm to keep the Victoria Punk from capsizing. “We wouldn’t be stuck in this if you hadn’t pissed off everyone in the Grand Line and had to take the scenic route!”

“Less yappin’ more haulin’!” He barks back.

— —

“Get off me, ye fuckin' harpy, I’m fine!” Kid slurs out, clutching the bleeding, open wound on his chest.

“Hey dick-nose! You told me I was here to be your fuckin’ medic, so let me be a fuckin’ medic!” You shout as you haul Kid’s massive body onto the medical table.

“Urrgg-“ Kid groans.

You quickly grab a surgical needle and thread along with antiseptic and antibiotic ointment. You thread the needle nimbly and start to close up the gash.

“OW!” Your captain yells and lurches forward. “You ain’t have any anesthetic?”

“Big bad worst generation pirate captain needs an anesthetic for some stitches?” You ask with a cocked head.

“I’m still human, you bitch!” He snarls.

“Here, pour this-“ You hand him a bottle of vodka from under the surgical table.

Kid rips the bottle from your hand and chugs it til it’s near empty. He winces and sighs.

“Alright I’m ready.” He says, wiping the liquor from the sides of his mouth.

“Oh that’s not-“ You begin. “You know what, fuck it.” You say as you begin to stitch up his chest wound.

Kid winces each time the needle pierces his skin to pull it together. A silence comes over the room.

“You need to be more careful.” You say softly, carefully focused on sewing up the gash.

“You don’t know shit about what I need.” Kid says with his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m the captain. I make the rules.”

“Yeah, well… maybe your rules suck sometimes…” You say as you continue to sew up the injury across Kid’s chest.

Kid lets out a deep exhale. Silence falls again. After a few more minutes, you finish the last stitch and pull your hands away.

“Hey-“ Kid says as he sits up and suddenly grabs your wrist, so small in his large hand.

“Yeah?” Your head turns to meet his gaze. You hold each other’s eyes for a moment… there was something different in the way he was looking at you right now…

“… nothing.” Kid says and drops your wrist. He slings his legs over the side of the medical table and hops down. He storms out of the room without so much as a ‘thank you.’

— —

You belly up to the wooden bar in the galley of the ship with a sigh. Killer was washing dishes at the sink when he heard you plop on a stool and turns around.

“Long day, huh?” He asks, drying a beer stein with a dish towel.

“When is it not?” You huff. “Can I get a beer?” You ask tiredly.

Killer nods and takes the clean beer glass over to the keg against the wall and fills it to the rim with amber bubbles. He slides it from across the bar into your waiting palm. You grip the glass and start to bring it to your dry lips. Before the glass could touch your mouth, the door the galley swung open and slammed against the wall.

“Hey piss-pots, I need a drink.” Captain Kid’s massive, fiery haired frame came barreling through the doorway. You roll your eyes, irritated that your moment of peace was interrupted.

Kid stomps up to you at the bar, huge black jackboots clanging against the wooden floor. He rips the beer from your grasp.

“Hey-!” You shout in protest, but it was too late. Kid brought your beer to his lips and begins to chug. He drank with such voracity that the beer seeped from the sides of the rim and trickled down his chin and neck. You watched as the beverage spilled down his thick neck, Adams apple bobbing with each gulp. Your eyes were drawn as the droplets traveled down to his exposed chest… so toned and wide… ew what?

He finishes the beer, slams the glass back down on the counter and lets out a massive belch.

You grimace.

“Fucking pig.” You sneer.

You hear Killer sigh heavily and he grabs the glass to refill it for you.

“What? I’m thirsty.” Kid grins cheekily at you.

“You’re disgusting is what you are.” You add. Killer gives you back a full glass of beer. “And I’m supposed to drink this after his filthy mouth touched it?”

“You’d hate to hear the shit I do to your toothbrush after you go to bed, then.” Kid laughs. “Killer, get me another drink.”

Killer grabs two more glasses before filling one for himself and another for his captain. After handing the stein to Kid, the captain takes a few heavy gulps and drains the cup halfway before setting it back down on the counter. You scoff and pick up your own glass and move to hop off your barstool.

“Where ye headed little one?” Kid asks and takes another drink.

“Away from you.” You respond coldly.

“You’ll stay and drink with me. Captain’s orders.” He commands.

You pause.

You settle yourself back onto the stool and take a drink.

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m your captain, that’s what matters.” He says without looking at you.

You roll your eyes again.

“How is it you’ve gotten this far in the Grand Line acting like such an incompetent prick?” You ask before you take another gulp from your beer.

“Y/n…” Killer says with warning.

“How is it that you’ve lived this long without me throwing your ungrateful, bratty ass overboard?” Kid shoots back at you.

You were too busy chugging your beer to respond.

“Most likely because you can’t stop thinking about her bratty ass itself.” Killer says casually as he lifts his mask to drink his beer.

“Oi? What’re you implyin’ then?” Kid asks with a growl across the bar top.

“I’m not implying shit. We’re all tired of the tension between you two and wish you’d just take her to bed already.” Killer informs his captain and best friend.

“HAH!” You laugh out lout, spraying droplets of beer from your lips across the table. “Like I’d let that happen.” You turn to your captain as you drain your drink. “You’re not taking me to bed. Not now, not ever.” You chuckle as you push your glass towards Killer indicating for him to pour you a fresh one.

“Yeah? Like I’d ever bed this fuckin’ nightmare.” Kid slurps down more alcohol as he puts his thumb out to gesture towards you. “All she does is bitch at me all day.”

“Bitch at you? You mean care about your well-being?” You scoff. “Gods forbid anyone care about wether you live or die!” You take several heavy drinks from your glass.

“It’s not your business wether-“ Kid starts.

You rise from your stool and set your beer down.

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had enough idiocy for one evening.” You leave the galley to head to your room.

— —

“Good riddance, I’d say.” Kid remarks with another gulp of liquor.

A few silent seconds go by after the clink of the stein hits the wooden bar top.

“Go get her.” Killer sighs. “If you don’t do it now, you’ll push her even further away.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re-“

“Oh shut up. Go find her.” Killer states and grabs the glass from his captain’s grip.

— —

You make your way across the dark, silent deck towards the crew’s quarters before you heard the galley door swing open behind you.

You stop in your tracks and turn.

It was Kid.

“What now? Come to ridicule me some more?” You call out with your hands on your hips, tired of your captain's antics.

Kid silently storms up to you.

His metal arm suddenly grips your waist and pulls you flush to him. You look up into his eyes, they were fiery and determined.

“Captain.. I-“ You stammer out, suddenly breathless for some reason.

Kid brings his flesh hand to the back of your head and pulls your face into his and smashes your lips together.

“Mmmph!” You whimper out with wide eyes as you realize what’s happening.

What was happening?

Your arrogant, idiot, asshole captain was kissing you in plain sight on the ship’s deck. Before you knew it you were being swept off your feet and over Kid’s shoulder.

“Kid! What the fuck!” You holler out while draped over Kid’s back.

“Hush up for once!” He calls out and smacks your ass lightly on his shoulder. You yelp.

You were being hauled through the ship’s belly and into the captain’s quarters. You had never been here before. You were flung suddenly against the door of Kid’s room as he shut it behind him. His heavy metal arm held up your body as he attacked your neck with his mouth, nipping and sucking harshly against your soft flesh. Instinctively you bring your hands up to his long, red hair and weave your fingers through it.

Kid suckles on your pulse point and you gasp.

“Captain!”

“Enough of that.” Kid growls. “You know what to call me.” He licks down the center of your sternum.

Kid grips your blouse and bra at once and rips them to pieces with ease, leaving your body exposed to him.

“Kid!” You shout in protest, it was one of your favorite bras.

“That’s more like it…” He coos as he sucks one of your nipples into his red lips.

You body is pushed further against the wooden door as he ravishes your breasts, suckling on one and kneading the other in his palm. Your head rolls back as you sigh, letting the pleasure overtake you.

Kid rips your body from the door and tosses you onto his red velvet comforter. He pulls your panties down forcefully and shoves his own coat off his shoulders. Before you could register the change, your captain’s head was between your legs lapping at your slit hungrily.

You gasp.

His tongue breaches your hole and you arch your back.

“Gods! Fuck! Kid!” You cry out.

You writhe against Kid’s face and he brings his lips to suckle your clit, making your thighs tense further.

“Mmmph… so much sweeter than I imagined…” Kid says with a long lick up your slit, the tip of his tongue dancing across your clit teasingly. He pushes a thick finger into your entrance and crooks it up into your sweet spot as he laves his tongue over your sensitive nub.

“Shit… I-“ You slam your eyes shut and throw your head back.

“Yeah yeah, I know baby, let it go, come on…” Kid goads you in between suckles and kisses on your clit. He eventually shuts up and focuses on bringing you to your peak.

Your core spasms and you release all over your captain’s face. You moan and writhe under the hot touch of Kid’s flesh and the cold grip of his metal arm around your hips. You return to reality after your powerful climax and see Kid’s smug face hovering over yours, having removed the rest of his clothing. His massive cock bobbed heavily against your slit, weeping in wait.

“Ow..” You wince, feeling the hard metal of his prothetic wrist dig into your flesh.

“Aye… you alright?” He asks, a foreign expression of concern decorating his painted face.

“Take that damn thing off… Be with me…” You gasp out, referring to his metal arm.

“I…” He looks to his arm then to your face again. “Okay..” Kid removes his metal arm and slides it next to the bed. “I… I wouldn’t do that… if it wasn’t… you…” He hesitates as he hovers over you again, leaning on his good arm.

“I know…” You say and you reach your arm down to grip his member to line it up with your soaked entrance. “Please…” You plead as you press his mushroom tip into your hole, stretching it slightly.

Kid presses his forehead to yours and pushes himself into you.

The two of you both gasp and moan as he bottoms out inside of your wet, stretched cunt. Your mouth stays wide open as you adjust to the intrusion, Kid grunts and pants as he grinds his hips into yours. You’re full beyond all comprehension as you claw at your captain’s shoulders.

Kid starts to thrust shallowly and you moan embarrassingly loud, he was bigger than anyone you’ve ever taken.

“Shit- fuck- Oomph!” Kid collapses on top of you.

He had lost balance on his arm and fallen forward.

“I- Sorry- I-“ Your captain fumbles over his words all while still inside of you.

You rip him back by his hair and kiss him with fervor. While your tongue slid into his mouth your flipped him onto his back. After adjusting to the new position, you rode him softly and passionately while kissing him and massaging his chest. Kid pulls his head back into the pillows away from your lips.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ perfect aren’t ye?” He regains his confidence and grips your hip with his flesh hand. “My everything…” Kid sighs out dreamily as he watches you bounce up and down on his cock. “So beautiful…” He admires you and moves his hand from your waist to bring your face back down to his and kisses you.

You feel your peak approaching again and pull back. You gasp and grind your hips down harder.

“You’re going to cum again? I can feel it…” Kid plants his feet and starts to thrust upwards into you. You’re tipped over and you cry out.

“Kid!” You scream with your head thrown back.

“Me too, baby, me too… shit-“ Kid grips the back of your neck and pulls you down on him impossibly hard. You feel the pulse of his hard cock and rope after rope of sticky spend fill your insides as you pant and moan, not caring who else could hear you on the ship.

“oh…” You whisper, exhausted after your climax. You fall forward, your breasts falling directly into Kid’s face. He catches you with a hand around your back and pulls you in to lay at his side.

A few moments of heavy breathing go by before you break the silence.

“We should probably talk abo-“ You begin.

“You stay here now.” Your captain interrupts you. You pick your head off Kid’s chest in interest.

“Oh?” You ask.

“You’re mine. My pirate queen. I’ll have Killer move your stuff in tomorrow.” Kid says as he gently pulls your head back down into his pecs.

“I can very well move my own-“ You start before Kid interrupts you again.

“You’ll be busy tomorrow… very busy…” Kid looks down at you with a wicked grin.

— —

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #eustass captain kidd #eustass x reader #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid #captain kid #one piece kid #kid pirates #one piece eustass #eustass captain kid

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eclipseberrycake · 5 months ago

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Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 9.5*

AN: The poll isn't over juuussst yet but I'm pretty sure of what is gonna win, so here we are <3 I do appreciate those voting for Roo's choice! Kissing your foreheads so softly rn /platonic So I kind of split the diff, you know? This was my choice was this part right here. Bc it makes me laugh. We get more MBC too, since I'm also going to start Part 10! Yay! Then I'll get back to requests! So, you'll get this today, then maybe part 10 either later tonight (Probably Tomorrow), then on Thursday I'll start requests again since Wednesday is my rest day!

ALSO also, people are figuring out my little clues and like I'm so proud of all of us. We're killing it, y'all are great at picking up the small nuances, Kissing you so gently on the forehead right now.

ALSO ALSO, also, I think the general consensus was that it's okay to give Reader a tail? I might hold off just for now to see if any objections come from it, but if there are none come part 11, I'll add it permanently! For this chapter, it's just a trial run! It's totally okay too if thats not something you guys want too, let me preface! If it turns out you guys try it, hate it, and want it gone I can come back and edit this part! Hence the "*" in the title!

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight -> Part Nine

Warnings: None, really, except for some of my personal ships. I don't wanna see any debate about them, this is mostly my preferences.

☁ He's watching you.

☁ He's watching you and you know it. You're momentarily ignoring it as you're elbow deep in the cookie jar, newly filed nails just barely brushing against a cookie at the very bottom. It makes you huff in annoyance at it before you're moving to kneel on the counter, hoping to reach further into the frankly too-larger-to-be-normal cookie jar. It just evades you're hand once more, and your tail gives a whip in annoyance.

☁ You would use the additional limb, but you've gotten in trouble more times than you could count with using your tail in the kitchen. Something about it getting too close to the Twisteds for it to be sanitary at all. You rolled your eyes at that, but since returning from your time as a Twisted, for a second time, you obeyed where you could.

☁ All while he's watching you struggle, hiding a poorly concealed snicker behind his blanket. It makes you huff once more before finally getting a finger on the cookie, making you grin. You hook it to the side, gently dragging it up so you can grab it, only for it to crumble.

☁ You let out a cry, retracting your cookie-less hand to stare in the jar, bewildered at the absolute audacity.

☁ This time he can't stop the laugh that spills out of him, making you glare at him. "You could've helped."

☁ "I could've." Astro agrees, standing from his chair, where he has a glass of milk and his own trio of cookies on a plate in front of him. "But where's the fun in that?"

☁ He walks over to the cookie jaw and reaches a longer arm in, making your tail wag behind you as you watch him grab one of the larger chunks of your broken treat. You quickly grab your set aside plate and hold it out for him to set the piece on the plate. One by one, every piece is set on the plate before he's pulling his arm back and putting the lid back on. It's flipped upside down so the top of the jar is facing the inside, signifying it's empty.

☁ With so many toons living in one area, it was easy for small things like an empty cookie jar to make tensions rise, so small things like that just made everything flow so much easier.

☁ You thank Astro with a happy little kiss, making him hum contentedly at your actions before you're both returning to the table. You have your own cup of milk as well, both of you picking up the tradition of a pre-bedtime snack a few months back. Or so you thought that's when it started.

☁ For Astro, this had always been the two of you's thing. Sprout and Cosmo baked, himself and Sprout went through old episodes together and the other handler rooms, even Cosmo and himself had scary movie nights. Everyone had their thing with each other, and cookies in the kitchen late at night was yours and his. This was the first place you told him about the Teagan and Rodger tension, which had grown exponentially. And as much as he tried to pretend he wasn't, he was a huge gossip.

☁ The familiar action of just you and him talking about everything going on, debriefing if one would, was something he held so dear and close to his chest, and he's sure you knew it too as you would never let more than three days pass before shaking him awake with a cheeky grin, nodding to the doorway.

☁ It reminded him of when he came back in all honesty. Never would that Astro ever have thought he would've been where he is now, with you and Cosmo and Sprout and Blu and everyone back, but as he is now, he would rather turn into a twisted again then give it up.

☁ His own tail gave a wag as he slid one of his cookies onto your plate, giving you The Look when you tried giving it back. You took it with a humored rool of your eyes, before rewrapping yourself in your own blanket, crossing your legs on your chair as you settled in.

☁ The lights were down low and gave your cheeks the softest orange tint and your eyes the softest of amber highlights. It made his tail wag at the sight of it, the silly thing giving away all of his emotions before he even had the chance to stop it.

☁ "So," You begin, folding your hands in front of you like it's a business meeting. "Check-in. How is Mr. Novalite doing?"

☁ He guffaws at the drop of his name, but copies your seated postion anyway with one pair of hands holding his blanket while the other twists with his tail to stop it from wagging like a lunatic. "I'm...content. Honestly. Sprout and I found some more sealed documents in Delilah's old room and are planning on looking through those soon. Cosmo and I have plans to watch that new Heretic movie that just came out. You and I are having our own date night. Plus, I know we all have a big date night coming up. Did you and Cosmo decide on what you wanted to do?"

☁ You nod, grinning happily as your own tail gives a wag. "Spa treatments then a movie night! We have it all planned out and ready to go, with a few special treats ordered for the night!"

☁ Your excitement is palpable and contagious, so much so Astro has to tighten his hold on his own tail, even if the moon at the end continues to move regardless. "That sounds perfect." He gives a sappy grin. "Other than that, myself and Shelly started a new book Brightney recommended to us, so we've been doing that to reconnect. And I think...that's really it from my end."

☁ You soften at the new information, leaning on one of your hands as your elbow settles on the table. "You sound happy."

☁ "I am. Immensely." He returns, reaching a hand. You give your free one eagerly, letting him hold it and trace his thumb over the knuckles of your hand. "Now, what about you? You've been busy."

☁ You nod, watching his thumb before thinking back to what you've been doing lately. "Well, Cosmo and I have started getting into art lately. We spent last night painting with music in the background, and it was nice. We got to talk without really thinking about it-oh, by the way, we decided you would be the boot in monopoly."

☁"...The boot." He has to take a second, mentally going through the pieces before realizing he never cared enough to know them all.

☁ "Yeah, we originally thought thimble because it sounds like thumb and you have the most thumbs, but it was way funnier if you went with the boot." You explain as if any of that made any sense whatsoever. "Also, did you know he wants like eight kids? Not happening." You scrunch your features before shaking his head. "Like, don't get me wrong, I liked the kids when Gardenview was in it's prime, but eight? All the time?!" You grimace, making him chuckle before your shaking your head.

☁ "Anyway, Sprout and I, what have we been doing?" You think for a second, before perking right up. "A few things! We've been playing games a lot! It started with Mario Kart, and then we found mini-gold clubs on one of the runs and now we set up increasingly difficult holes. It's great! I kick his ass!" You beam. Astro's sure half the problem for Sprout is that the mini-golf clubs made for children are much too short for him, but he doesn't bring that up.

☁ "And with friends, Goob's going through something- which I'll tell you in a second-, but Glisten and I have gotten closer lately. He joined our tag runs recently and he actually kills it! Especially with his teleporting? I don't think he's been tagged once." You explain, raising your head so you could use that hand to gesture as you speak. "We're thinking of doing some sort of Geo-caching too, but it's hard because we can't really leave Gardenview. That's okay though. As for now, I'm here with you, moonshine."

☁ His cheeks dust navy at the compliment, squeezing your hand tighter. "Do you remember the first time we did this?"

☁ You hum, thinking back before nodding. "I think I do. It was before we started dating. I think I remember being pissy because people kept saying Cosmo and I were dating but we weren't. But it wasn't because people were saying it, but because I had a huge stinkin' crush on him at the time and he could not pick up the hint."

☁ He chuckles. "Yeah. I was a little relieved at that you know. I had a 'huge stinkin' crush' on this cute distractor that had come to visit me. Imagine how crushed i would've been." He teases and you stick your tongue out. "Please. You were just as bad. I was doing the same goofy moves to you and Sprout literally within the same week and you didn't pick up on it either."

☁ "Neither of you picked up on anything, don't you fool yourselves." A new voice startles you both, making you look over at the doorway. Sprout is there, raising a brow at you both. Cosmo is hanging off his side, looking like he's seconds away from collapsing, eyes bleary and slowly blinking. Both of you wave at them, even if Sprout's eyes dart to the cookie jar and he gives an exasperated groan. "Again?"

☁ "In our defense, most of this batch were eaten by Goob. He's going through some stuff." You wince, watching as Astro pulls a chair to his side with his foot, close enough they make a soft clink when they hit, opening his blanket the duo. Cosmo takes the invitation, slumping forward as he practically crawls on the chair and burrows into the celestial, who wraps his arms around the cake roll, covering him in his cloak-blanket. At this point, you aren't even sure which it is.

☁ Sprout raises a brow at you, grabbing an apron off the hook and quickly slipping it on as he steps towards the cabinets. "What do you mean? Goob is the last person I'd expect."

☁ "Me too!" You exclaim, gently easing your hand from Astro's so you can turn to the side, making talking to both Sprout and Astro (and Cosmo by extension) easier. "But- Pause. Rewind. What do you know of the Teagan and Rodger drama? I know Astro is caught up because I told him and Cosmo knows because he's been here since it started, but I don't know if any of us have caught you or the other mains up."

☁ "Not much." Sprout responds, pulling out the butter and sugar in practiced motions as you bite into your cookie, nodding as if this was the answer you expected. "What kind of cookies do we want this time?"

☁ "Double chocolate. There's a new cocoa powder-" Cosmo suddenly pipes up, even if his eyes stay shut, interrupting himself with a yawn. "That I ordered specifically for that recipe we were looking at."

☁ Sprout nods at this, preheating the oven as he passes to grab the larger electric mixer. He measures out the butter and two types of sugar before letting them mix, going back to the pantry for the powdered ingredients. "Okay, so what is the reason? Like I know obviously the other day in the elevator there was a nerve hit."

☁ "Yeah," You dip a piece of your broken cookie in your glass of milk. "So I'll start from the beginning. When we first recovered Teagan, her and Rodger were like...inseparable. I mean, they had Toodles, so like we kinda assumed they'd be. Toodles was ecstatic to have them both back too, so we were all like 'great, perfect.' It was not in fact great or perfect." You throw the piece into your mouth as Sprout sifted said cocoa powder, flour and a few other things into a separate bowl.

☁ "It was fine for the first little bit and then we started recovering more and more people, then they began fighting, like a lot. Like more than I would classify as normal for...any couple really. It was silly, small, petty things too like Rodger didn't say good morning to her first." You continued. "He normally said good morning to Toodles first, but he was far from perfect either. I remember once, he like lost his shit because she picked up a research capsule."

☁ "He called her all sorts of names, didn't he?" Cosmo piped in, poking open an eye. You nodded at this. "I wasn't convinced they weren't gonna get physical that run. They were so loud I had to work double time to keep the twisteds occupied as Cosmo had to do twice as many machines."

☁ This made both Sprout and Astro grimace, the latter rubbing the cake roll's shoulder in sympathy even if this was long in the past.

☁ You're thinking momentarily, trying to decipher when it truly turned to shit when it hits you. "It was when Glisten came back that they broke up. Rodger made it this whole thing too in the middle of the run. I don't really blame Glisten as he was unaware of Toodles like...being their kid, we hadn't had the chance to fill him in. He was spending a lot of time with Rodger though, so we just expected him to fill Glisten in. Turns out, he didn't. In retaliation, Teagan started seeing Shrimpo."

☁ Sprout is gaping behind you as he pauses where he's adding an egg to the mixer. He recovers quickly, throwing out the shell before adding vanilla to the mix as well. He turns down the mixing speed before turning to you. "Shimpo? And Teagan?"

☁ You nod, watching Cosmo take one of Astro's cookies, making the Celestial huff at this even if his newly freed tail wags behind him. You grin before turning back to Sprout. "Yeah, trust, we weren't expecting it either. They were also about as explosive as you'd expect. If Teagan and Shrimpo weren't fighting, it was him and Rodger or her and Rodger or all three of them depending on the day. At this point, Glisten was aware he was in a little too deep, but he had fallen hard and fast and didn't know what to do."

☁ "What did he do? I can't expect him to do much in that situation." Astro pipes in, mindlessly handing Cosmo his glass- which the cake roll was reaching for. "And what happened to Toodles?"

☁ "That's what Glisten did." Cosmo steps in, dipping his stolen treat. "He would take Toodles the second this started up and would come to either mine or Y/N's room. His was still being put together and if nothing else, he knew he could trust us to step in if they tried bringing the fight to him. Which they did. It seemed if they were fighting, everyone needed to fight."

☁ "You're joking." Sprout spits, putting down the bowl with the flour mixture he was adding to the mixer. "That's so ridiculous."

☁ "I wish we were." You shrug. "But no. Which is kind of why they hate our relationship so much because we don't fight, and our arguments are often just a matter of temporary disagreement then true hostility." Your tail gives a whip behind you. "It only got physical during this period once. Once was all that was needed though. Shrimpo and Rodger had gotten into it with Teagan instigating, like pouring gas on an electric fire, and Shrimpo snapped, throwing a fist. Toodles saw and Glisten stepped in then while Scraps took Toodles. He was already on the brink, but they didn't break up during that."

☁ "How did they break up?" Sprout asks, now thoroughly entwined in this story. "They aren't together now, as far as I'm aware." He turns back to adding the powdered ingredients and you let him finish before answering.

☁ "Shrimpo and Glisten walked in on Rodger and Teagan." You explain and the bowl is nearly dropped in time with Sprout's jaw. Astro hums at this, having a similar expression when he first heard it. You nod before continuing. "They broke up with them then and there. They didn't take it well and it was this huge thing once more. Runs were absolute agony for the a little while. Glisten, in his defense, absolutely refused to interact with them though. Refused to look at them, talk to them, and I'm pretty sure for a while refused to do runs with them."

☁ The mixer is stopped and scraped as a few cookies sheets are pulled out and prepped, Sprout moving to roll the dough balls out, adding chocolate chips as he does. "When was all this?"

☁ "Right before we got Astro back was when the peak hit. It slowly got better when we got you back, and it's remained a little stagnant. Until recently." You give a devious smirk, knowing all three are hooked onto the information you're about to share. "Let me preface this with saying, everything I tell you I have permission to do so. Goob knows I'm doing this-"

☁ "Goob's involved?!" Cosmo whines, now looking wide awake.

☁ "Not in the way you think!" You quickly remedy. "No, he's involved in a different way. Because him and I work really well together, we do a lot of runs together, which duh, you guys know, but Glisten has wanted to get away from...you know...So he's started hanging with us a lot more. Anyway, they do their own thing, we do ours, but Goob came up to me the other day, and you wanna know what he said?"

☁ "Is that even a question?" Astro snorts. "What do you get from teasing us like this?"

☁ "Satisfaction, especially when I tell you that Goob has a big ol' stinkin' crush on GLISTEN." You share, and all three gape at the new piece of information. "Scraps won't have it, she's literally fuming because, and I quote, why would he want to get involve in all that drama. Goob literally refused to let her say anything about it further, going to war. I had never seen Goob so upset with his sister before."

☁ "Was this during that run we did a couple days ago? The one where tripped over a can of pop and smoked his face against a machine?" Cosmo eagerly asks, sitting up with his hands slamming on the table. "And Glisten was the first to run over and oh my god-?!"

☁ You nod excitedly. "It was! Goob literally has not stopped talking about it since. He even asked how we got together."

☁ "And you had to tell him all about how I was the one to do it?" Sprout smirked, sliding the first batch into the over. You excitement paused as you turned to stare at him, scoffing in his direction. "It was a group effort."

☁ "Nope. All me. Sprout is the greatest. C'mon. Admit it." His spotted cheeks upturn in time with his catlike grin and you continue to scoff.

☁ "Over my dead body maybe." You cross your arms, turning away from him as he comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your shoulders anyway as he nuzzles into your cheek, blowing a raspberry against it and making you squirm against him. You let out a yell at the action, even if he tightens his hold so you can't get out.

☁ The other two simply watch, remaining ignorant to your cries at them for help.

☁ While this has started as just something between you and Astro, watching you and Sprout, with Cosmo returning to burrow in his side, Astro lets his tail wag this time. His heart practically bursts at the full feeling it has and how lucky he considers himself to be a part of this.

☁ You and him will have more date nights, just the two of you, but these moments with all four of you have a way of just making him feel so special.

☁ Almost to the point he feels bad for the others as he knows they'll never feel the same happiness he feels with you guys.

☁ He hopes the past version of himself can rest easy now, knowing he's happy and content, and wouldn't change it for the world.

Also: The Cookie Recipe Sprout is making -> Here!

#dandy's world x reader #dandys world x reader #astro dandys world #astro novalite #astro x reader #dandy's world astro novalite x reader #dandys world sprout #cosmo doesn't have a last name #cosmo x reader #dandy's world cosmo x reader #dandy's world cosmo #dandy's world sprout seedly #sprout seedly x reader #sprout seedly #sprout x reader #moonberrycake x reader #moonberrycake

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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Soooo, I hope that this is alright to request. I can't really pick between a ship for this b/c I love them and how you write them so much. So, if you don't mind, could you write about the reactions of Feysand, Rowaelin, and Nessian + Azriel (...Nesriel?? IDK) to reader getting poisoned by an enemy (reader lives, but is left feeling very, very weak and ill)?? If you just want to do one or two that's fine... I was just curious to see how some of them might react :).

Cured By You headcanons

Feysand x reader, Rowaelin x reader, & Nezriel x reader

A/n: I would not be able to pick between them in general and I love these ships and so happy you do too anon

Warnings: poison, over bearing mates

Feysand

It happened while visiting the court of nightmares

You felt like an idiot, you always check your drinks or have Azriel’s shadows check

When you wake up 2 days later you were more embarrassed than anything. Especially passing out in the middle of the Court of Nightmares, like what a rookie move

Cassian and Azriel jump into action as Rhys scoops you to his chest. Feyre unleashes her claws, practically growling in Kier's direction. Rhys grabs her and winnows the three of you home to an awaiting Madja

thankfully you healed quickly. whoever poisned you clearly didn't get their dosage right

you still feel weak and get tired easily during the day for a few weeks

the first thing you see is Rhys and Feyre casually chatting. you watch them for a bit before reaching for Feyre's hand that's casually draped on the bed

they jump at your movement and are overjoyed that you're finally awake

if you thought they were doting and overly fussy about you when you have the sniffles, think again. these two are unbearable!

Rhys carries you everywhere. it was a struggle to convince them to let you out of bed so this was the compromise

the poison had weakend you to the point where lifting your arms was a chore. Feyre had decided to feed you even though most of the time you gave her an I'm-going-to-kill-you look

you considered yourself lucky though. to have mates that take care of you is a blessing

Rowaelin

Furious doesn’t even begin to describe how Rowan and Aelin felt

everything was fine, dinner was going great. this new alliance with a kingdom bordering Wendlyn seemed promising

until you polished off your wine. you turned pale and Rowan immediately scented that something was wrong with you

you passed out, collapsing from your chair. the dining room fell into chaos as soon as Fenrys sniffed your glass and announced you'd been poisoned

the guests were ushered out and taken to another room to be interrogated while Rowan rushes you to your shared bedroom, Yrene following and ready to draw the poison from your system

you woke up two days later with Fleetfoot watching over you, her golden head laying on your stomach. her big brown eyes staring at you. petting Fleetfoot behind the ears she shakes your hand off after having her fill. leaping off the bed the large golden beast sits by the door and begins to howl as loud as she possibly can

the queen and king coming running, almsot breaking down the door

Fleetfoot wags her tail at the sight of Aelin, running back over to sit next to the bed as your mates approach

the pair throw themselves down next to you, squishing you between them carefully. "We were so worried, oh gods." Aelin breathes out as Rowan repeatedly kisses your face

(like Feysand) the two of them don't let you lift a finger. Rowan never gets to do this for Aelin so he babies you to the max

from helping you walk and work out the muscels in your body to feeding and bathing you he does everything for you

Aelin spoild you with attention and treats. you two spend all her free time snuggled up in bed eating junk food

Nesriel

they each have a very different (yet extreme and justified) reaction

Azriel starts threatening people with Nesta, who lets her power rumble through the room, flames cupped in her hands

Cassian is getting you the hell out of there and to Madja

Cass doesn't let go of you for a single second while the healers pulls the poison from your body. he presses kisses to your temple and whispers sweet nothings as you writhe in pain from the poison being extracted

while you sleep for a week they hover over you, watching over you like hawkes

Azriel sleeps sitting up in a chair next to the bed while Nesta sleeps next to you, playing with your hair so you feel soothed in your unconcious state

when you wake up you're startled to find Cassian curled up at the end of the bed like a dog, Azriel in a chair, and Nesta next to you

Az's shadows go haywire next to his ears, alerting him to your conciousness. the shadows rush to alert Cass and Nes who perk up immediately

Nesta sits up, holding your face in her hands, "oh thank gods, you're ok." she coos on the verge of tears

even though you're weak you force your arm to move so you can hold her wrist. "I'm ok," you whisper

you all thought Cassian would be the more doting/crazy one but it turns out to be Nesta

she freaks out every time Az or Cass move you, worried about your comfort levels or if you're in pain. she yells at them if you even wince, "Careful! you're hurting her!" they always give her the same exasperated look as you giggle

when they find out who poisoned you Cassian tells you and stays with you. meanwhile Az lets Nesta tag along to the interrogation

he even let Nesta participate and she did not hold back. making this guy feel the worst pain he has ever endured

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dollishmehrayan · 6 months ago

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# BATBOYS WITH A AUSTRALIAN!READER ── .✦ ( how batboys deal with a Australian s/o )

a/n: I myself have a aussie accent so this is like so cool for someone to request so tysm (here) and anyways this is one where I don’t have to research for because I know a lott of Australian ppl and culture too, tags: (batboys x Australian!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Loves Your accent: “Say something else! No, wait—say ‘mate’ again.” He’s absolutely smitten with how you talk and tries poorly to mimic your accent, often sounding more British than Australian.

Constantly Curious About Australia: He’ll bombard you with questions. “Are kangaroos really that common? Have you ever seen a cassowary? Do you guys actually barbecue everything?”

Terrible at Slang: If you say something like, “It’s looking a bit dodgy,” he’ll need you to explain what you mean. When he tries to use Australian slang, it’s endearing but cringe-worthy.

“What’s up, uh…sheila?”

“Dick. Never say that again.”

Adventure Buddy: He’s already planning a trip to Australia with you, wanting to see the Great Barrier Reef, Sydney Opera House, and every wildlife sanctuary possible.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Loves Your Humor: Your sarcastic and no-nonsense sense of humor is right up his alley. If you roast him, he’ll laugh and roast you back.

Protective Over Your Wildlife Stories: The second you casually mention seeing a venomous snake or massive spider, Jason is horrified.

“Why are you so casual about almost dying?!”

“It’s just a huntsman spider, Jason. Chill.”

Impressed by Your Toughness: He secretly loves how you’re unfazed by things that would make others panic. He brags about it to others: “My partner grew up surrounded by things that can kill you. I think they can handle Gotham.”

Tries Vegemite Once: Spoiler: he hates it. “Why does this taste like salty tar?” But he’ll eat it if it makes you happy (and won’t admit that he kinda likes it on toast with butter).

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Fascinated by Your Culture: Tim immediately researches everything he can about Australia, from Indigenous history to pop culture. “Did you know that there are more kangaroos than people in Australia?”

Amazed by Your Time Zone: He’s constantly confused by the time difference when you visit home. “Wait, it’s tomorrow for you?!”

Loves Learning Slang: You’ll catch him Googling Aussie slang to impress you. He’ll casually drop phrases like, “I’m knackered” or “Fair dinkum,” but his delivery is hilariously awkward.

Animal Discussions: He’s convinced that every Australian animal is deadly, and you have to constantly debunk his fears. “Not every spider is trying to kill me, Tim.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Quietly Intrigued: Damian pretends not to care much about your background, but you’ll catch him reading about Australia or asking subtle questions.

Loves Your Stories: He’s genuinely fascinated by your tales of outback adventures or the unique Australian wildlife. “You’ve seen a platypus in person? Fascinating.”

Tolerates Your Nicknames: If you call him something like “mate” or “love,” he’ll act annoyed but secretly enjoys it.

Protective Over the Wildlife: He’s horrified by the idea of culling kangaroos or other animals. “You allow such barbaric practices?” He might actually start a campaign to protect them.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Respectful and Curious: Bruce asks thoughtful questions about your culture and experiences, genuinely interested in learning more about your upbringing.

Loves Your Practicality: He admires how grounded and resourceful you are, especially when you deal with things in a calm, no-fuss Australian way.

Subtle Humor: If you tease him about being too “posh” for Australia, he’ll play along. “So, you’re saying I wouldn’t survive a day in the outback?”

Surprises You with Aussie Treats: He somehow manages to get Tim Tams, Caramello Koalas, or Milo shipped to Gotham, just to make you feel at home.

GENERAL TRAITS ── .✦

The Spiders Are a Problem: You casually mention a massive spider in your house, and all of them (except Damian) are horrified. “How are you not freaking out right now?!”

Vegemite Debates: None of them can handle Vegemite except Damian, who eats it with no complaints just to prove he can.

Drop Bears: You convince at least one of them that drop bears are real. (Spoiler: It’s Tim.) (Ngl the google animation they made for them is fucking cute😭💗💕)

Aussie Slang Confusion: If you say, “I’m going to chuck a sickie,” they all think you’re throwing something. Explaining Aussie slang to them becomes a full-time job.

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 days ago

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the look of death. l General Marcus Acacius

summary : The wrath of the gods had cursed you. That curse turned anyone you looked at into stone, and with each passing year you grew more vengeful and… lonely. And then he came, General Marcus Acacius. On the Emperor's orders, he would bring you death.

warnings : one (1) curse, Reader has the skills of the mythical Medusa, one (1) legionnaire who wants to kill her, bad weather conditions, a bit of angst and fluff, love that strikes like lightning

author's note: i haven't written for Marcus in a while. but this request has been on my mind for a few days. thank you sweet anon. i hope you like these scribbles.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [General Marcus Acacius - masterlist]

You saw the death of your loved ones. Your parents, siblings, their children, grandchildren, and the next generation. For hundreds of years, the wrath of the gods punished you for something your father did, and you carried this curse on yourself.

Your home turned into a hermitage because people avoided your company. Who would want to live next to someone who could turn you into stone with one look? And it didn't take much, you didn't care about gender.

At first, they were men - handsome and strong, who, hearing about your beauty, wanted to convince themselves that it was not just a legend. Then girls too, because some madman told them that one look from you would fix their beauty for eternity. He was not wrong. Handsome and sweet, beautiful and in love.

Over time, you lost mercy and didn't hesitate for a moment. Over time, you became the loneliest among the stone figures. The curse could be lifted, but was it even possible? For so many years you had deceived yourself that you would once again become mortal like others, that in time your fury replaced hope and the desire for love.

Until a certain time.

You recognized the Roman ship as soon as it appeared on the horizon. Rome became stronger, it reached you too. But no fear occupied your mind. The legends had done their job and you knew that no legionnaire, no man, would set foot near your home. So you were safe, just like them.

So how surprised you were when you heard the cry of frightened seagulls and then noticed a broad-shouldered man on the horizon. His step was confident, his armor gleaming in the sun. Birds rose into the cloudy sky, but he didn't stop. He stared at your home.

There was something strange about it and what was happening in nature as he approached with each passing moment. The wind picked up, and the sky darkened in an instant, although the sun had been shining for weeks. The birds cawed incessantly.

Strange...

Someone knocked hard on your door. It didn't fill you with fear, you were ready to look at the man and kill him in a second when...

“What is this?”

He winced at the sound of your voice, turning his head in the direction it came from. He couldn’t see you. A red blindfold covered his eyes, effectively protecting him from your sinister gaze.

“I am General Marcus Acacius.” The stranger’s voice sounded deep and melodic. “I have come by order of the Emperor, the ruler of Rome. You have been called a threat to his rule.” He took a deep breath and added more quietly, “And sentenced to death.”

You looked at the sword he held in his hand and smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “And a blind man came to perform this task?” you sneered.

“Only I am worthy of this task.”

“I am honored to be your ruler. I would be happy if he were here, though.”

Marcus flinched. Something delicate, a woman’s hand, slipped into his and gently pulled him deeper into the house. He smelled the herbs, jasmine and lavender, and after a moment he heard the door close behind him.

"You are a monster who threatens Rome," he repeated. "You kill innocent people. Do you think I don't know what you would do to our Emperor if he showed up here himself?" Marcus snorted. "He would become a stone sculpture, like the ones he has in Rome."

He flinched again when he heard your voice, calm and measured, because he couldn't hear your footsteps and you were already standing right behind him. "Didn't your Emperor deserve this, General? You bring death and destruction. Rome has become a monster like me, but do you foresee its destruction as well?"

Acacius didn't answer, he just tightened his grip on his sword. Unfamiliar fingers slid into his curly hair. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling, but suddenly he jumped back, as if you were burning him with fire.

“I know how your powers work.” he growled. “I won’t let you do those tricks.”

“Are you sure you know everything? Do you know how I became who I am?”

You had plenty of time. If Marcus decided to kill you, it would take him a long time to find you, because of the blindfolds. You, on the other hand, felt like a child who had been given a new and beautiful toy.

Oh, yes! Marcus was indeed beautiful. Tall and broad. His dark hair was interwoven with grey streaks, so he could have been around forty. His skin was kissed by the sun, and his prominent nose clearly marked his face. There was something magnetic about him.

You would have given anything to know the colour of his eyes. You sat down quietly in the chair, and when your voice echoed in the room, you were pleased to see that the general turned towards you. "My father offended the gods." You said calmly. "He acted foolishly and unwisely, but he was only a father. Being in the temple, he proudly announced that his wife had given birth to a daughter, the most beautiful the world had ever seen. And he did this every year until I became an adult. That was when he went to the temple for the last time. I was no longer the most beautiful in the world. In his mouth, I was more beautiful than the gods." You sighed quietly, and Marcus felt the sadness in your voice. "Great was the anger of the gods, and even greater was my father's despair when it turned out what curse had befallen me. Do you know what I'm talking about? General?"

"You take life with your gaze."

"And in return I give them eternal life. Only they don't know it anymore. Beautiful boys, handsome men, girls fresh as the morning..."

"That's still killing. You're still a monster."

You jumped out of the chair and in an instant you were standing next to Marcus. He felt your warmth, your scent blinded his senses. Unexpectedly you grabbed his hand, and although he held a sword in the other, you weren't afraid.

He felt the smoothness of your cheek under your fingers. You moved his hand so he could feel the features of your face, your lips, nose and eyebrows. You let him touch your hair, which tangled between his colossal fingers. The general's hand led further to your neck, your chest, where he felt your heartbeat, to your waist.

“Do you feel a monster or a woman under your fingers?” you asked, touched by the effect his touch had on you.

“You are a woman,” Marcus choked out.

“Yes. And I have been stripped of everything human.” You answered. Marcus’ hand rested on your hip, and even though you risked a lot, you didn’t back down. “I saw everyone I loved die. People turned away from me. And no lover would stand at the door of this house, because one look from me could kill them. What are you thinking, Marcus Acacius?”

The general was silent for a moment. He must not have known this part of the story. Monsters rarely turned out to be victims. But eventually you heard his calm voice.

“Is there anything that can free you from this misery?”

You looked at him, completely surprised. No one had ever asked you that. He felt you shiver nervously.

“Why do you ask that?” – you asked, trying to sound as if what he said didn't impress you.

"Because you didn't deserve it. I feel sorry for you... Your father was proud of you, he didn't want you to suffer. I don't have children, but I think I understand him. I'm sure you're beautiful..."

“Would you like to see me?”

It was risky. Marcus knew that perfectly well, but something told him he shouldn’t be afraid of you. Yes, from the moment he heard your voice, he wanted to see you. The moment he felt the warmth of your skin, he wanted to see your face. Maybe it was stupidity, but the compassion he felt for you gave him courage.

“Yes, from the bottom of his heart.”

You heard the wind pick up and a flash of lightning cut through the sky. A huge storm was gathering in the clouds. Seagulls began to caw, as if signaling approaching danger.

Marcus didn’t even flinch as your fingers untangled the knot of the blindfold over his eyes. When the material slid off his face, his eyelids were closed. Gentle fingers ran over his face.

Gods, he felt like his skin was burning under your touch. “You can open your eyes, Marcus. You’re safe.”

He trusted you. In a strange and indescribable way, he trusted you. How could he? You were the monster he had been told about, the one the emperor had ordered to kill, you were a threat to Rome. And yet...

When Marcus opened his eyelids, he saw a woman before him. Beautiful and delicate, with a proudly raised chin, but still with closed eyes. You stood before him completely defenseless, and yet so dangerous. The sword was heavy in his hand, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from you.

You felt his touch on your face. The soldier's rough fingers moved over your skin, drawing lines as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

The wind outside the window grew stronger with each passing moment. You barely heard the sound of the sword falling, because at the same time, thunder rolled through the area.

"I want to kiss you so much..." he whispered, taking your face in his hands. “Before I die, I want to taste the lips of one who has lost so much…”

“Do you pity me, Marcus?”

“Yes, I do. Because you don’t deserve not to feel loved. I would give my life so you could feel, even for a moment, what is so sweet and beautiful.” He noticed the tears streaming from under your trembling eyelids, which you wanted to keep closed at all costs. You didn’t want to hurt him. He felt it. “Will you let me? Just once. Then you can give me eternity.”

“I don’t want to…”

His lips were warm and soft. You hadn’t felt what you felt in that moment in years. When Marcus kissed you, tenderly and with feeling, you felt as if the shell around you had cracked. You no longer heard the cries of seagulls, the thunder of the storm, the wind hitting the walls of your house. There was only him and that kiss. His solid body pressed against you, you embraced him, wanting to feel his strength. If after all this he stabs you with a sword - go ahead, let him do it. You were ready to die after all this, after feeling truly alive.

When he pulled his lips away to take a breath, he knew he was gone. He was ready. Now he could go, give his life for the one whose lips were sweeter than the most delicious fruits from the emperor’s table.

“I want to see your eyes,” Marcus whispered. You shook your head. “Please.”

“No, it will kill you. I can’t stand it.” you groaned, squeezing your eyes even tighter.

“Fine. I’ll stay with you forever in this form, if that’s the only solution.” He caressed your cheek, brushing it with his lips. More tears rolled from under your eyelids. “Don’t cry, my love. I’m mortal and I’m going to die anyway. But I choose death, looking into her beautiful eyes.”

You wanted to pull away, but his strong arms held you close. “Leave here. Go back to Rome or… Or kill me, but don’t make me do that to you.” He pressed his forehead against yours, sighing. Marcus already knew he couldn’t leave, not without you, but you weren’t making it easy for him.

“When you finally decide to open your eyes, I’ll be old, gray, on the edge of life. Do you want to see me like this?”

“If it means you’ll live this life safely and well, then yes.”

“And if I want to live it with you?” A small wrinkle appeared between your brows. "We'll take turns closing our eyes. One day me, the next you. We can look at each other, live together, make love..."

"Do you want that? Would you sacrifice your life for a monster?"

Marcus swallowed. "For a woman."

"What if one day I accidentally look at you? What if I turn you into stone, like the others?"

His fingertips ran over his sweaty lips, teasing them slightly. "Any day with you would be perfect for me, so even if I die, I'll die happy."

"I'd like to look at you with my eyes. I'd like to see the color of your gaze. To see in your eyes that feeling I so desire and feel..."

"So open your eyelids, my dear."

His words were like a spell that you obediently listened to. First, your forehead smoothed out. Your eyelids twitched and slowly began to lift, he could see the whites of your eyes. And finally, he really saw you. Eyes so beautiful that he would burn Rome and the whole world for them. A look pure and full of the wisdom of years gone by, and at the same time filled with affection for him.

You, in turn, noticed Marcus' wonderfully brown eyes, which looked at you as if you were the most beautiful of all women in the world, as if you were the purpose of his life. You both smiled uncertainly at each other, seeing tears glistening in your eyes.

"How much time do we have left?" he asked with concern.

You didn't understand the question. "Time?"

“When you… When I… Your curse.”

The wind died down and the sunlight streamed into the room through the shutters. You couldn’t hear the seagulls anymore, only the soft sound of waves in the distance.

That’s when you understood. Compassion. Surrender. Acceptance. Love. Sacrifice. Marcus sacrificed himself so you could feel free. He was the first and only one to do it.

Although the task brought him here, he never felt the need to do it. And when he saw you, he knew his fate was sealed. If you told him to leave, he wouldn’t find peace anywhere in Rome, knowing that you were living in this loneliness and despair that the gods had condemned you to. His selfless sacrifice lifted the curse from you, and the grace of the gods descended upon you once again.

“If I look into your eyes and you look at me, does that mean that…”

You nodded. "I think so, Marcus..."

"You are free, my love." A smile appeared on his face. The most beautiful you had ever seen in the world. "You are free, the world is open to you."

"You stand before me and you are my world."

For the first time in years, you felt alive. For the first time in years, you felt loved. And even though this feeling hit you so suddenly and unexpectedly, you knew one thing - the grace of the gods was with you. Until the end of your days. Marcus' lips tasted better than before and you wanted to take their taste with you for the rest of your life.

#pedro pascal #general marcus acacius x fem!reader #marcus acacius x reader #gneneral marcus acacius #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #general marcus acacius x reader

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simpingforbots · 8 months ago

Note

I really love your transformers series about a human being on cybertron. Kinda wondering if they ever met a human, so this little organic is just a very, very, VERY, smart rat. Anyway, I was wondering if you could make a part 4? It's ok if not.

Was hoping if you could do Alpha Trion, Shockwave, and Soundwave? Maybe even maegatronus Prime for D-13?

Don't do this request if you are busy, don't want to, or sick. I can wait a few months and years.

Have a good day/evening!!!!!!!

thank you so much.

sadly this is a human we are talking about as Transformers One yet to learn that humans are actually sentient and to learn English, and so is human. their language sounds like a clicks, whirls and other metallic noises. So it's more like figuring out by their body language and repetitive noises they make. like a certain noise thay make at you means its your name. they can see you are smart and if you were to be given buttons with certain sounds like in one video you would be able to communicate. so yes they know you are smart, just not realizing that you are THIS smart to be actually considered a sentient.

What if human ended up in transformers one

part 4

Alpha Trion

Alpha Triton, being one of 13 primes, was one of a few son's of Cybertron that realised you were more then just some organic. HE found you during one of Quintessons attacks, with your space ship being an unfortunate target to their fire. out of all your crew you were the last.

he decided it will be best for your own good to keep you by him self and try to establish some kind of contact and maybe even learn where you are from and what planet is your home. so safe to say it was not an easy task and with you being small week and made out of flesh - you quickly become something every Prime grew soft on. you were pampered with pets, soft coos and nice flesh food they could find on surface. he kept you close by, and did his best to keep away from Sentinel as he could see something dark in his eyes and fake smiles. other Primes seemed to trust the kid for some reason and Triton just decided to keep you close to him self. you did protest at first, being manhandled and treated like a some kind of pet. but soon you got used to it and even felt comfort in hand of a huge cat. You also distrusted Sentinel and just tried to avoid him. you enjoyed your life as much as you could until Sentinel lead all primes in to trap. Triton did his best to keep you out of harms way and fight, but he can only do so much. in the end he had to watch you fall and killed by Sentinel, before he was hurt. what he did not expect as to still be alive after all those years and when Pax woke him up, he saw what was left of you - just a pile of bones, near his body, you probably crawled towards him on his last breath and passed away by him. he wished he couldv'e done more, but now he need to do is give this new generation a fighting chance. though when he is captured and was decapitated, he was a bit relieved to see that Prime deemed you worthy enough to joing their after life.

Shockwave

Shockwave probably would see you as something more interesting that anything on cybertron. And before he would become the mad scientist we know of him now, before Megatron, he would 100 percent would run more safe, though still hurtful, experiments. And mostly because of lack of equipment. He would find you as your ship crashed not far from the hideout, and you only one who survived. He observed you from a far at first, trying to understand just what you are. Some strange organic life matter, super fragile and somehow very-very resilient. He observed from afar, keeping tabs and even running his own little experiment - he would find some edible fruits and place them near cave you were hiding in. He watched as you at first was warry, not knowing if you could eat it, but after time you sort of relaxed around food suddenly appearing on your "door". Then Shockwave moved on to next step. Instead of hiding he kept the distance so that you could see him. Of course first time you hid in your cave that was to small for his servo, but with prolong exposure he was even able to get closer and closer. Even one time you came close to him, watching him with curiosity in return. HE reached out with his only servo poking at your head and you touched his finger. After some time he was sure you won't mind if he brings you with him to show to Soundwave. HE was very proud of his little study! So he decided to "study" you more. You were poked, probed and measured in all sort of ways, without your consent and you protested every test he had done. by the end of all the experiments he would keep you on his shoulder, proudly showing you off to other High guards and proud with his experiments. you just wish to go back to your cave and wait for rescue ship to arrive to pick you up. What you had no idea is that Shockwave knew about the signal and already took care of it, stomping it to the ground and making sure that the signal would come of as false. so you are stuck for his intertaiment.

Soundwave

Soundwave would probably find out about you through Shockwave when he was tagged along to observe you. Soundwave was bored at first, but after some time he would come to your hide out without Shockwave, just observing you. You tinkered with some machine, clearly trying to get of this planet by sending some signal. he did not wanted this to happen as YOU were the only intertaiment here for now and kept Shockwave from dying from boredom. you did not even had a chance to properly scream when you were kidnaped by the bot and brought to High Guards and you sort of become a mascot for them. Every other bot found you entertaining, a bright light of hope to lift the gloom. Shockwave was a bit happy as well as he could run his experiments more closer. Soundwave how ever kept you close, not letting you out of his sigh because of what you were. you did not had anything to protect your fragile flesh body and easily got hurt by ether "walking" in to think, stumbling, tripping and falling on a flat surface. YOU are NOT allowed any where outside the fortress at all. Sleep? you thought you will be able to have a moment of solidarity at such moment? Forget it - your recharging place is in his chest so that Soundwave won't have to worry about you sneaking of while he rests. And Soundwave wiling to go to such lengths as to wrap a chain around your body and keep you close, as scaning your head is a bit more troublesome as the reading always come "wrong" and it's just easier to keep you closer then to know what you wanted to do. Food? you can scavenge for it only when HE brought you out and you better to gather enough to last you for weeks. so yeah. have fun with overbearing bot.

part 1 part 2 part 3

#transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers #shockwave #lock shock and barrel #soundwave #alpha trion #answered #death mention #transformers x human

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