#HIS NOSE. HIS SCARS. OP YOUR MIND | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bisexualcage · 8 months

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HIHI!!

UHMM NO PRESSURE

could you do an nsfw fic with mk11 (!old) form johnny x ftm bottom reader? preferably post-op (top surgery) and pre-op bottom surgery? SORRY THAT ITS SO SPECIFIC I’m just head over heels for this man he’s so cute!!

maybe something like morning sex, praising etc. THANK YOU SM!

(Sorry for the late reply! Hope you enjoy!)

Just Before Sunrise |

Older Johnny Cage x Trans Male Reader, NSWF MDNI! 🔞

Relationship: Older MK11 Johnny Cage x Trans Male/Masc Reader

Warnings: literal smut, afab anatomy, post top surgery, ect.

An: didn’t really proof read welp

Johnny stayed out for the night doing a late shift at the special forces military base. Supposedly he had to get some rookies in to to shape and his higher ups put the incredible tedious responsibility of getting them ready despite his refusal of only being a civilian contractor. Nonetheless, you passed out by 10 pm and figured he’d come in and wake you up; just not in the way you thought.

You slept in till the morning, feeling something rubbing between your legs softly. It felt like a palm almost and your eyes shot wide open in shock as you thought it was a dream but it wasn’t. There was Johnny, his nose nuzzled in to your neck and his calloused hand was palming your clothed crotch softly. By the way he still had his usual military attire on you could only guess he came in just recently. Hungry for something else that wasn’t his work.

“J- Johnny?” You sit up a bit, trying to meet his eyes.

Johnny chuckled, meeting your orbs finally, eye bags around his sunken tired eyes. His salt and pepper hair slightly disheveled. “There you are, mornin’ baby.” He mumbled, still casually palming between your legs as if it was so natural to him. “You missed me?” He pecks your lips softly.

Your face is practically red and your breath is picking up, “Christ, what a way to wake me…” you chuckle.

“You know what I was thinking while rounding up those rookies today?” His hot breath hits your nose, his expression serious. Your breath hitches and you whimper as his palming picks up, his eyes unwavering. “I was thinking about how badly I wanted to feel you. Be in you. Make love to you. But no, I had those damn kids I had to straighten out.”

“Oh- oh really? Were they- that- that bad?” You stutter and swallow, barely able to pay attention to him.

Johnny chuckles, a toothy grin showing as his eyes crinkle at you; “Immature punks is all. Now…” he trails off, his palm now ceasing and not moving on your crotch anymore. “…Will you do me a favor, baby boy?”

You nod frantically, already missing the friction. “Can I see you? Take your shirt off.” He sounded almost desperate and it was barely a question, his eyes firmly on you.

Your hands had a mind of their own and they immediately started to pull your shirt over your head and throwing it to the floor. All the while Johnny licked his lips and kneeled between your legs on the bed, then started to lean down over your torso and figure. His face nuzzling your bare chest with his lips and sharp nose, kissing the top surgery scars that rested neatly under each pec. You immediately grow goosebumps and your chest hardens slightly. “Ah-“ you gasp softly.

Johnny’s big arms then wrap around your waist, pulling you against him tightly and making his face smushed against your torso; “Every time I see you, your journey, it makes me so proud of you. You’re braver than any guy out there, these scars prove it.” He mumbled against your skin.

You chuckle and flick his head with your pointer finger, “Don’t make me all mushy right now, you big doofus-“

Your playful banter is interrupted by him suddenly lightly biting down on your pec making you yelp; “HEY!”

Johnny snorts loudly and holds you even tighter against him as he hides his face on your chest; “Don’t interrupt my mushy speeches!”

“Alright alright-“ you laugh loudly, “just-“

He starts kissing your scars again, peppering kisses across your chest softly, getting a rise out of you again. He was so gentle and patient with you, it always made you smile like an idiot in love. And he knew his sappy behavior was something you loved, despite your best efforts to seem unbothered by them. It’s what egged him on, your reluctance to be vulnerable sometimes. He then started unbuckling your belt, struggling to undo it because of the excitement that was coursing through him.

“Alright, let me.” You chuckle endearingly at him with a smile, you then unbuckle your belt easily and halting at the button of your pants. He took this as a cue of taking over again, quickly undoing your jeans and zipper and throwing it to the floor as well— leaving you in nothing but your briefs. There was an undeniable arousal coming from you as your briefs were slightly wet.

Johnny’s mouth went agape and a grunt came from the back of throat, as if he was trying so hard to keep himself together at the sight of your arousal. He then went ahead without warning and ripped your briefs offs, your body now fully exposed. He took this as a cue to start undoing his shirt and pants as quickly as he could, the poor man was almost out of breath.

“Johnny relax-“ you chuckle at his desperation.

“I gotta have you-“ he breathed out, “been stuck in that hell hole all day— I ain’t wasting no time, sweetheart.”

Johnny was now naked, between your legs and gently rubbing your thighs with a mischievous grin. His torso was rock hard for his age, and his biceps were the size of your head. It never ceased to amaze you how top shape he is in. Your cheeks turned red as you eyed him down, your eyes settling on his hard cock that was rubbing against the inside your thigh.

He saw this of course and chuckled with a bit of cockiness; “Mmm- keep looking at me like that stud and I’ll have you immovable by the time this is done.”

You punch his shoulder playfully and roll your eyes, he then softly pulls your hips towards him as he settles more between your legs. The playful atmosphere suddenly vanished and all you saw was lust and passion in his eyes, an unquenchable hunger. You swallow deeply, goosebumps all over your skin as he starts leaning over your body. His chest coming in to contact with yours, he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, his arms then wrapping tightly around your waist making you completely squished against him.

Johnny’s breath picks up, all hot and humid against your neck and he wasn’t even inside yet. It’s like he wanted to consume you completely with how he held you, cocooning you from the world. He was bigger than you so it was easy for him to engulf you under him. Suddenly, he snakes one arm between his legs and inserts the tip of his member in your folds— teasing you.

“Ah- fuck you-“ you groan, your eyes closing tightly.

“Oh you love it.” He snickers, his hot breath hitting your face, “Now…” his eyes turn soft again, “Take a deep breath, baby…” he rubs your jaw with his free hand.

You turn warm, knowing what was coming and nod. As soon as you do he doesn’t hesitate to slowly move in, his throbbing warm length slipping inside of you. You let out a moan along with him, he immediately wraps his large arms around your waist again, bringing you even closer to him. His breath became heavy as he rested his head on your neck. He then kisses your neck and starts slowly thrusting in to you, making you whimper softly. The grip his arms had around you becoming tighter and tighter by the second.

“Those lovely little noises…ah- fuck-“ he groans as he thrusts firmer against your core now, licking along your jaw.

“Oh god-“ you let out, gripping his lower back and desperately trying to bring him even closer.

He moans against your ear now, his cock twitching inside you and hitting your walls so firmly. Your walls welcoming him as they grip around his throbbing length. Johnny then slides a hand to the back of your head, gently gripping at your hair and bringing your face to his— kissing your lips passionately and desperately as he kept thrusting erratically in to you. Your breath was short and hot as you moaned in to his mouth.

“Fuck baby…I’m close…” he hisses in to your wet mouth, gripping your hair now a bit roughly. “You take me so nicely, so warm and tight for me- such a good boy-“

“Jesus Christ-“ you moan loudly.

“Wrong JC, sweetheart-“ he jokes in the middle of reaching his height with you, as if he couldn’t help but make you chuckle at the situation.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer, hiding your face against his neck as you cried softly reaching your climax with him. “Johnny-“

He engulfs you again, his arm tightening around you more as his head rests on top of yours, his breath hitching and his whimpers loud; “oh honey….that’s it, that’s it- fuck- take it all, take it all…every last drop-“ he buckles weakly against you a few more times before warm ribbons of his cum fill you up, his hips shaking as he doesn’t let go of you and his praises don’t cease.

“Ah- …so good, such a good boy- mine- only mine- my sweetheart-“ he mumbled tiredly and warmly against your ear, kissing your jaw softly. So full of love and patience as you both lay in your sweat and release. Johnny then held you tightly against his chest, like he was afraid you’d vanish in his grip once it was all done. He looks at your flushed face and chuckles, “How did I get so lucky?”

“It wasn’t luck, it was your annoying insistence on asking me out-“ you chuckle with a love struck expression on your face, thinking back to when he wouldn’t give up on you.

“So ‘Johnny Cage Luck’?” His eyebrow quirks up at you with a grin.

“For the last time…there’s no such thing as JOHNNY CAGE LUCK-“ you roll your eyes playfully.

“Oh I beg to differ, one time on set I convinced a bunch of executives to sign off on this crazy film idea I had-“

“Thats just your annoying charisma!”

#johnny cage #mortal kombat #mk11 #mk1 #johnny cage mk11 #dilf johnny cage #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x male reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage x trans male

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Disobeying Tommy's orders, you're back in Small Heath. Your rebellious attitude starts to really bother him but you don't care. All that matters is that you're reunited with Arthur and John, the two men of your lives. From then, nothing can go wrong. Nothing, right? -- Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.5k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, allusions to self-harm.

Notes:

✞ Theme song on repeat if you want to break your heart: HERE

✞ Quotes from the TV Shows are in bold and italics

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

The deafening howl of the train’s honk boomed in Small Heath’s station, quickly followed by a whistling sound. The steel giant had barely opened its heavy doors when the foul-smelling wind of the city rushed into the wagon and made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was not that you hated Small Heath strictly speaking, but the stark contrast between the industrial city and the green landscape of the forest in which you lived now was difficult to process. The sound of your stiletto soon clicked on the metallic steps as you got off the train, attracting people’s eyes to your tiny frame. Yet, you weren’t really sure if this sudden attention came from their sound, or rather the sight of your short black dress adorned with the most expensive white fur coat you had ever owned, and the gold choker necklace you wore, whose shape was one of a barbed wire wrapped around your neck. When your heels found the dirty concrete of the platform, a gargantuan hundred pounds Cane Corso with a spiked collar followed you closely, like a silent but off-putting bodyguard. He was your shadow, mimicking each of your movements and grazing your steps, except if told otherwise. Loyal guardian, Kaiser was even more protective since Arthur left. Without minding the fascinated or curious stares that were looking at you, you walked out of the station with the dog’s leash in one of your small hands and a cigarette in the other.

“Mrs. Shelby? Here is your bag.” A man told you, all the while putting the said luggage at your feet.

“Thanks, sir.” You replied with a brief polite smile, before stubbing your cigarette on the nearest wall and throwing it away. At first, you had been surprised by the care the staff provided you during the whole trip until you saw the glow of fear in their eyes as soon as they noticed your family name on the ticket. She’s Arthur Shelby’s wife, you better be ready to help her with her stuff if you don’t want her husband to knock at your door and break your skull. That was what the ticket inspector told one of his colleagues when he met him in another wagon a few minutes after this frightful discovery. Waiting in front of the train station with a slight feeling of uneasiness, you swept your surrounding with your celeste blue eyes, whose coldness equaled the freezing English wind. Looking around you in the hope of catching sight of a cab, your fingers absentmindedly brushed the almost imperceptible white burn scar on your wrist. The circle-shaped wound the cigarette had left on your skin had miraculously healed in a matter of days.

“Welcome home, little Angel.” A familiar voice echoed right behind you. You turned around in one swift movement, and your freezing gaze turned into a child-like expression: John’s smile welcomed you, its charms so blinding that it made you momentarily forget about the dreadful feeling you carried in your soul.

“John!” You exclaimed, unable to hold your joy any longer. Kaiser’s bark followed right after when he recognized who the man was. Without further ado, you rushed into him to pull him in a hug. Amused, John could not help but chuckle at such a vivid reaction before wrapping your body with his muscular arms and tightening his grip around you with the firm desire not to let you go, “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him. Your enlightened expression adorned your doll face and made your hypnotizing eyes shine with elation.

“That ain’t the right question, love. What are you doing here?” He teased you, raising one of his eyebrows, then stared right at your eyes. His tongue pushed the toothpick that was in his mouth from the right corner to the left before he went on, “When Arthur got your letter he told me about your arrival in Birmingham. Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm. I’m the one who came at the train station ‘cause Arthur still has to make a few last-minute adjustments to welcome you here.” As he talked, the young Shelby brother had freed one of his hands from your delicate body to pat the big Cane Corso’s head. The latter closed his eyes, mouth wide open and tongue hanging in bliss.

“A few adjustments?” You frowned.

“Like, threatening all the men of Small Heath not to even look at you, and dealing with Tommy’s reaction. He’s fuckin’ mad at you, eh.”

Of course, he was — you could not expect less from Thomas Shelby. God, you barely arrived in town he already found a way to bother you, even if he was not here. At this stage, he had real talent. “You know what? Fuck Tommy. If he thought I’d be dumb enough to stay out of the plan while my husband and you risk your lives, well it’s his problem, not mine. And if Changretta’s men come to my door, I’ll put them in the dirt myself.” That being said, you waved off the topic, “But let’s not talk about Tommy, please” You concluded, then laid a soft kiss on his chin. As your juicy lips crashed against his skin, John half-closed his eyelids and let out a soft exhale from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” He stated, referring to you possibly burying Changretta’s henchmen six feet deep. John enjoyed the physical contact for a few extra seconds, then he gently parted from you and closed his fingers around your wrist in a soft grip. You raised your gaze to him, surprised.

“Wait a minute. I just wanna check something before you get in my car.” His smile vanished, handing over to a very serious expression that kind of unsettled you.

“What‘s the problem?” Your smile followed his somewhere else. You didn’t know where, but what was sure was that it had left your face.

Without the slightest warning, John raised your arm above your head and made you twirl one first time, “Would you look at you, little angel! What a stunning outfit!” He exclaimed, before spinning you again to admire your otherworldly beauty, “Oh my God, I’m in love. Last time we met you were barefoot in the grass like some kind of ethereal nymphet and here you come in the shape of a goddess, dressed like a queen?” You suddenly chuckled at his unexpected reaction.

“Hey fuck you! You’ve scared me!” You nudged him in the ribs with your free arm, but it only made him laugh louder.

“My little heart can’t resist that.” He winked at you, his grin stretching in an adorably annoying smile only he could do before making you twirl again. Sometimes, you wondered if Tommy and he were really brothers. He is so different from Arthur and John. You thought.

“John! Shut up, dumbass. Your little heart can’t resist girls in general — or more like your cock can’t resist girls.” You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed pout which only resulted in John protectively wrapping your shoulders with one arm.

“That’s my mean angel! Fuck I’ve missed you and your quick wit so bad. C’mon!” He said, grabbing your bag with his free hand before you started walking away. Kaiser ran and hopped inside the car a few seconds before you did.

The whole trip went well, casual conversations and joking with John had managed to alleviate the anger in your heart, which was far too focused on the driver’s joyful voice and stunning eyes. He talked to you about the kids, about his new house, and about some childhood stories. Surprisingly enough, each of his sentences had snatched a smirk from you despite the anxious situation in which the Shelbys were embedded. Nevertheless, your mind drifted away at some point and you stopped listening to him though. Not that he bothered you, but it was rather due to the fact that you lost yourself in the contemplation of the smallest details of his face. The adorable freckles, his little round ears, his pinchable cheeks… Everything about John Shelby made you feel at home.

“Is that fine with you?” His voice suddenly popped your thoughts bubble.

“Hm?”

“I was saying that you’re going to live a few days at me house just the time for Arthur to secure Watery Lane properly. You’ll spend Christmas with me, Esme, and the kids.” He repeated, noticing he had been talking to himself for a little while.

“Ah,” You started, batting your Bambi lashes quickly to chase away your daydreams. That was all you could say, for you dive into your thoughts right again. A comforting silence fell between you. After a little while, John slightly bit the inner of his cheek and glanced at you. The truth was he had been hesitating on his next move for five solid minutes. No matter how goofy John Shelby could act, he was a sharp observant. Considering his ease at analyzing people, he naturally noticed the way your fingers nervously played with the fabric of your dress, indicating your inner turmoil. The young gangster slowly moved his hand towards you, still conflicted about what he was about to do — Was it appropriate? Were you going to slap him? He hoped not, for he didn’t want to crash the car on the side of the road and explain the reason behind the accident to Esme. But worst than facing his wife’s wrath was to offend you.

No, no he wouldn’t want you to hate him. Yet, John was not the kind of man to let the demons of his mind win. Acting first, and thinking after was a motto he often applied in real life. He briefly looked at you again, his sky-blue eyes meeting your aquamarine iris before they shifted their focus back on the road. The young Shelby brother finally gathered his courage and rested his warm and strong hand on your thighs.

“Hey. Are you okay? You didn’t tell me what you think about living at me house.”

“Oh yeah,” You slightly shook your head, “That’s fine with me John boy.” You finally said, punctuating your sentence by gently covering his hand with yours and, to his greatest surprise, your small and cold fingers clenched around him. The physical contact almost immediately sent a wave of comforting warmth into your soul. John’s lips stretched in a caring smile and he replied to your sweet gesture by turning his hand to intertwine your fingers together.

That was definitely fine with you, for you knew that as long as John was around, there was no place for the storm.

Only for the sun.

A sun as bright as his smile.

“Get the fuck off my way.” Arthur’s gruff voice thundered in the hallway, followed by a noisy thud and Michael’s flourishing insults.

“Piss off, Arthur!”

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes. All the while walking through the corridor, he had thrown his beret out of frustration and had brought his hands in his hair to nervously slick them back. He busted into the living room and his shiny steel blue eyes, sparkling with a gleam of hope, searched for you.

“Hey, Arthur.” When your soft voice swirled in the room and reached his ear with the tone of a mesmeric siren’s chant, goosebumps of excitation appeared on Arthur’s skin. Moving your body with a wildcat’s grace from the sofa, you stood up and looked at your husband with an adorably shy smile, like a young bride seeing her groom for the very first time. All the confidence you’ve felt kinda disappeared now that you were standing in front of him — would he be happy to see you? Or did you deceive him by disobeying and coming back to town despite Changretta’s men lurking in the shadow? You hadn’t the time to think about the matter though for Arthur rushed to you without waiting any longer and, with an uncontrolled strength enhanced by the power of his overflowing emotions, hugged your little frame. The gangster then lifted you from the ground, causing a cry of surprise to break free from your plumped and glossy lips.

“Bloody Hell, angel! I’ve told ye to stay safe at home!”

He said, putting you back on the ground right before cupping your face with his large, warm, and calloused hands, before you could even react, “I’ve told ye it was too fookin’ dangerous here! What if Changretta and his men would have attacked you on the train eh?!” He exclaimed, a bit more aggressively than intended. At first, you opened your mouth to reply but no sound came out. The sight of his pained eyes and his worried expression suddenly made you feel a bit guilty: if there was one thing you hated it was being the cause of his worries. “Hmm?!” He insisted when faced with your silence. His piercing blue iris dived into yours, looking in their celestial frost for the answer your mouth could not produce.

��I— I don’t care. If you’re in trouble then I am too. If you fight, I fight. If you die, then I fucking die. We’re one, and I’m sick of acting like the good frail wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war,” You started, shaking yourself out of your silence; and the more you spoke, the more your confidence came back, backfiring, “I don’t care about the danger, Arthur.” A desperate smile stretched the corner of your lips, making your eyes squint a little bit. A smile both tainted with sadness and mad love, “The first time we met I’ve made the promise that you’ll never face Hell alone ever again and I don’t plan to back up now that we’re at its gates.”

“Yer fookin’ crazy, I swear you are.” He replied. His eyes shone with dawning tears as he observed your holy pulchritude, “Out of yer goddamn mind, Heaven Shelby… Fookin’ bonkers.” His face relaxed, anger swept away by the winter breeze that had rushed into the living room through the open window. Arthur finally let out a nervous yet endeared little chuckle and shook his head in disbelief, "You're so much trouble eh."

“I’ve learned from you.” You straight off replied, gently pressing your forehead against his in this intimate gesture that was so proper to him. Yet, he didn’t reply right away, still shaken by your fierceness — these last two weeks had almost made him forget how untamable you were. He wanted to scold you for behaving in such a reckless way — He really did. But the truth was big bad Arthur Shelby couldn’t resist you. And God knew how hard it was to function without your heavenly and reassuring presence. If he had to be honest, he would admit that he wasn’t sure he could do it without you anymore. He was consumed by his love for you, body and soul.

A little sigh escaped from his lips as his boiling worries slowly faded away, drowning himself in the little details of your face. With trembling fingers, Arthur grazed your snow-white hair. Fuck, he had missed you bad. Very bad. To the extent of drinking himself to sleep almost every night and lashing out at the boxing ring, mercilessly beating his opponents, for these were the only ways he had found not to slip into pure insanity.

“Angel —“ He started, wanting to say so many things at once, but words choked in his throat. Closing his mouth, Arthur swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. The joy of having you there was so intense that his mind could not find something relevant to say: he wanted to talk about Tommy, about the letter he had sent you, about the Changrettas but nothing mattered anymore. What did though was you and him. That was why he finally gave up everything to hug your frame again, his spine bent so that he could bury his face in your small breasts. “I promise I’ll protect ye with me whole life, Angel. No one’s gonna hurt ye. Not on me watch.” He finally mumbled, the sound of his words muffled against the soft pale skin your cleavage exposed, thus turning his plead into more of a symphony of low grunts than anything else.

“I’m here, darling.” You reassured him. Arthur squeezed your body a bit too painfully in reply, but you didn’t mind. The uncomfortable pressure of his brutal grip chased your worries away and made your whole soul flicker — It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, as no other men did before, and you genuinely liked it. So, he could break you in half with his hug if he wanted, you would be okay if it was the price to pay to keep feeling his possessive and aggressive love all around you.

With the desire to soothe his heated spirit and confusing thoughts that were bumping into each other in his confused head, you let your small fingers lose themselves in his messy hair. Your gesture brought immediate relief, whose warm sensation spread in his bones at the contact with your frozen skin. Arthur’s whole being gradually relaxed, and he could finally let out the pressure of these last two weeks. All of sudden, you felt salty and wet drops running down your chest, “I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again.

“I’ve missed you too.” You said in a whisper. Ceasing to caress his hair, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed his face a bit more against your bosom, keeping him still until his grip finally loosen around you and his tears run dry. Now that the storm of emotions was slowly calming down, Arthur sniffed one last time and raised his head, his lips reaching for yours. The press of his kiss, eager and hungry, dissipated the last couple of clouds of his troubled mind the moment your flesh reunited. Weakened by his scorching passion, your legs shook at the sweet and liquored taste of whisky on your tongue, while his strong hands explored you just as if the tall gangster wanted to make sure you were really here. To make sure he was not dreaming. His hands grabbed you, rubbed the sides of your thighs, ran up the curves of your ass, and then clenched on your shoulder blades for a short while before going down again to seize your waist in a bruising movement. You squeezed your eyes tighter, shaken to the core by the way his fingers left streams of fire in their trail, melting the ice that had settled under your skin the night he had left the house without you. Arthur deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

After an undefinable while during which you both lost the notion of time, his tongue gave yours one last stroke before he finally broke the kiss and reopened his eyes. Yes… You were still there — to his greatest relief. You let out a faint feverish sigh, the sensation of his kiss still tingling on your swollen lips, then you tilted your head to the side. Betrothed by your adorable pout, Arthur’s smile widened until the crow feet at the corner of his eyes appears.

“Look at you. You’re fookin’ stunning, little one.” He laid his big hand on your cheek and you gently rubbed it against his palm in reply.

“What about you tell me what you're up to instead of treating me like a little girl, Mr Shelby?” You teased, your reunion definitely erasing the worries out of your brain, even if the threat section D had sent you still lingered at the back of your mind.

“Listen,” He started, his thumb brushing your lips with utter desire but he tried not to get too distracted by them, “John should have already told ye but you’re going to stay here ‘til Christmas hm? The house isn’t safe yet and you’ll be safer with Esme and the kids. Also, John will stick around to protect you. Just until Christmas right?”

“What about you?” You retorted, furrowing your brows.

“As for me Tommy and I will figure out what to do. But don’t ye worry… " He brought his face closer, his mouth reaching your ear, "Each night I’ll be back in your arms and I’ll show ye how bad I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his low voice alike the growl of a starving wolf, “I'm a little afraid ye’ forgot what’s like to feel your husband, hmm.” A little amused snort came from your nostrils at the delightful perspectives. For sure, Arthur’s way to make up for the last two weeks of loneliness you’ve both been through was particularly exciting.

“You think so? Little evil me is not so sure if she prefers Kaiser’s presence next to her in bed rather than yours. ”

“We’ll see, love.” He was about to kiss you a second time to shut your bratty mouth when Esme appeared at the doorframe, arms crossed in her chest and one brow raised.

“There are kids there.” She reminded, her voice cold and slightly bothered. Of course, she wasn’t enchanted by your stay here, but it has been two years since you joined the Shelby family, which had given her all the time needed to tame her hostility toward you. Your relationship was still rocky, but at least she had stopped insulting you on every occasion.

“Oops, sorry Esme.” You replied with the biggest and most charming smile you could do before taking a step back from your husband to help him —and you— resist the temptation of giving in to your burning desires. Arthur could not help but chuckle at the comment. He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there.

“Alright, no need to bark Esme.” He grunted, but the sincerity of his grumpiness was definitely undermined by the faint smirk etched on his lips.

“I’ve made tea.” Esme went on, her magnificent brown eyes going from Arthur to you several times. Their dark color struck you for one second for their hard beauty reminded you of autumn leaves spinning in the immensity of her iris. You did not hate her. You never did. As harsh as her behavior had been, you had come to understand that her reactions were dictated by fear rather than spite. As a very catholic person, Esme was more than terrified by evil spirits — and she ultimately thought you were one, not seeing the enamored twenty-five-year-old girl you were, but the evil witch you could be. You could not blame her though, for she wasn’t entirely wrong. Somehow, you were convinced that Esme was the only one of the family who truly understood your dormant dangerous nature. What she did not grasp though was the sincerity of your feelings, “Hurry up.” She said, turning around and returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” You gently wrapped your arms around your husband, “Kaiser is waiting in the kitchen. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Ah right, let’s see the man who took me place in bed.”

Arthur had barely stepped into the room when you heard the dog’s frantic barks, soon followed by his muscular body running toward his master to greet him with great enthusiasm. The sight of Kaiser almost reaching Arthur’s height, with his two front paws on his shoulders, filled you with joy.

It was at this very moment that you were almost convinced that nothing could go wrong.

The calm of the forest was a type of peacefulness nothing else could outmatch. All that was lacking from this grandiose landscape was the mighty shadow of the old and wise mountains of Haute-Falaise, whose silent lullaby could only be heard by those who paid close attention to it. From where you came, Christmas was always synonymous with snow along with the cold sensation of frosty wind biting at your face. Each time you would come back home after a joyful moment of playing games outside with your little sister, the warmth of the hearth’s fire would welcome you. But this Christmas, like many others since you left France, there was no snow. No mountains. And no little sister anymore. You were alone in the forest, wandering among the dead trees and the howling breeze.

Katie had woken up with a light fever, and she had cried in her father’s arms for twenty strong minutes before he managed to hush down her sorrow. Following a quick discussion with John, you informed him that you knew a natural remedy against fever and then, you went in the forest to collect the few plants you needed to concoct a healing tea. Esme would have naturally disagreed with the idea if John had told her, which hadn’t been the case. Instead, you simply replied that you needed some fresh air when she asked you why you were venturing outside the house on Christmas morning.

Oh, fuck it's you. Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning? // Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's Yard now, come on.

You’ve been wandering for over one hour when you finally found all the plants you needed for Katie’s tea. Satisfied, you headed back home with a light heart, already thinking about the pleasant breakfast that was waiting for you. A small grin flattered your lips at the thought of the children tearing their gifts’ paper apart and screaming with awe at the discovery of their new toys.

What's gonna happen man, it's fucking Christmas.

Moreover, you could not wait for the adults to open their gifts too. Even if Ada told everyone to focus on the kids, you could not help but buy a little something for the house’s hosts: a beautiful silver necklace with a protective crystal pendant for Esme, and an expensive ring for John inside which was engraved the sentence “Le soleil brûle dans ton sourire” which meant "The sun burns in your smile".

John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids. Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine.

For sure you could not wait to see their surprised expression slowly shifting to joy the moment you would give them their gifts! A little smile flattered your lips at such adorable thought. In truth, you had stopped celebrating Christmas for so long that the perspective to do it today delighted you. It was going to be a wonderful, wonderful day.

Get in the fuckin' house!

The petrifying detonations of gunshots tore the forest’s silence apart, which caused a cloud of afraid birds to erupt from the trees’ thick foliage. One shot, the surprise made you wonder if you had really heard that or if it was just the traumatizing memories of men chasing you down in the forest that was playing with your mind. Two shots, you turned towards where the noise was coming from, realizing it was real. Three shots — they stirred a brutal pain in your chest. A pain so vivid your fingers loosened their grips on the plants, letting them go, and grabbed the place where your heart was. It was drumming so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crushed by the unexplainable ache and a crawling feeling of anxiety, you leaned against a tree not to collapse on the muddy soil. Your throat felt tight, to the extent you could barely breathe anymore. With eyes wide open, you desperately tried to calm yourself and comprehend what was happening to you. And suddenly the macabre evidence of the whole situation hit you like a train — a suffocating panic seized you again as you realized that the gunshots were not coming from hunters in the forest but from John's house.

No.

Your body moved slowly from the tree, taking a few wobbly steps.

“No!” Your voice yelled but no one was there to hear your desperate cry except the pristine nature, which had sent the wind to howl in pain with you. A surge of adrenaline ran through your body and, as if you had received the fiercest whiplash ever, you started running to the house as fast as you could. You ran faster and faster, with the cold breeze biting your face and brambles clawing at your exposed skin as you rushed past thick bushes. That was all you could do anyway for every other function of your being had shut down to focus only on your restless race. You could not think straight anymore. You could not hear anything else than the brutal beating of your heart resonating in your skull. Gosh, you couldn't even see properly, your vision narrowed into a small point in the horizon that was John's house. So you just ran, you ran no matter the insufferable burn in your lungs and the soreness of your legs.

"Hey! Come back, little doe". You could almost hear them behind you. The cruel men who hunted little thirteen years old you in the dark woods of Haute-Falaise. "We’re not gonna hurt you! Fuck — where’s that little slut?!"

Moving away the last branches aside, you jumped above a thick root and broke the last meters that separated you from the house. That was when you heard it, the agonizing scream of Esme. Her voice, filled with pain and fear, almost pierced your eardrums like the wailing lament of a Banshee. You reached the front of the house and suddenly, your legs made an abrupt stop, refusing to move anymore. In front of your wide-opened eyes, from which tears were already leaking, laid the inanimate body of both Michael and John in a crimson puddle of their own blood.

"John! Oh my God, John! No!" Esme yelled, her face contorting with indescribable sorrow and insufferable ache. She was kneeling on the pavement and hugging the motionless frame of her husband, whose skin already faded two shades paler. The young Romani beauty shook him but John's eyes remained shut. At first, you wanted to scream along with her, giving in to panic, but no sound came from your mouth. Instead, you let your quivering body drop to its knees and immediately put the moist palms of your hands on your best friend's wounded chest — The numerous bullet holes had made flowers of blood blossom on the white fabric of his shirt.

You took a deep breath, threw your head back, and closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to channel all the magic that was running in your blood to save him. After all, you had witnessed your mother performing similar miracles in your childhood. All you needed to save him was a faint beating of his heart, even the weakest would do the trick. Thus, you focused on your task the best you could and drained yourself of most of your energy in the hope of seeing John reopening his magnificent blue eyes and offering you one of his beaming smiles. You were pretty sure that he would come back to life, just like the bird you had found in the garden two years ago. Yes, you were going to bring him back to life, and this awful nightmare would be over and you would all have a good fairy tale ending.

— But life wasn't like the tales you loved: his heart had stopped beating for too long for you to do anything. It had been only a matter of minutes but still, you came too late.

You came too late.

When you understood it, a river of tears streamed down your angelic face. One of your hands gently moved up to his throat, and you pressed two fingers on his carotid artery to check his pulse in a desperate and last attempt to feel something, but there was nothing. Only the dull silence of Death. You slowly backed off and looked at the surprisingly peaceful expression on his face, forever frozen by the Reaper's cold kiss.

John was gone.

And so was the sun.

✞ A little note now that you've finished this chapter: Heaven did not ignore poor Michael by the way. When walking past him she noticed that his wound was not as serious as John's, so she decided to check him after checking John.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ gif by the amazing @fkmylif3

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby

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diejager · 1 year

Text

Chapter 3

Cw: canon typical violence, injury, self-hate, drinking, Johnny getting his ass drunk, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.4k

Series masterlist

He can't remember how he got here, just a second ago - or was it an hour - he was smoking outside, staring dully at the few stars that glinted brightly against the artificial lights of the base: lines drawn down the tarmac with small, integrated lights for landing and takeoff, lampposts scarcely placed for minimal movement, and the bulbs lighting up the base's various entrances.

He took a smoke, a cheap cigarette, nothing like the expensive ones Price burns on a daily, it didn't matter much to him as long as he got the nicotine rush from it, he was satisfied. The fresh, moist air of the British isles after a shower felt refreshing, the cool air against his clothed skin and the peaceful atmosphere that the night brought. He leaned back, figure blanketed by the lights blind spot, covered in darkness with only the fire of his burning cigarette revealing him. Every breath of nicotine calmed his mind, the puffs he breathed through scarred lips. The darkness helped lax his hesitance to pull up his mask, only high enough to show the tip of his nose, having foregone wearing his usual mask for a more comfortable, skull-painted balaclava. One of many dozens in his room, one he had the luxury of living alone.

His first reason for standing outside was to run away from his thoughts, to smither the rising nausea of his spiraling noise in his mind. He hoped the cool, autumn aid would calm his frenzied mind, to muffle the screams and painful memories that haunted him in the living and unconscious world. The flashes of red lining the walls he was familiar with and some he wasn't, begs and pleas cried out towards him or for him when he was deployed on an armed mission from the start.

He was a battle-hardened soldier - lieutenant by rank - and he has seen monstrosities people would never dream up, horrors of proxy wars and terrorist attacks, something he quickly got used to when he became "Ghost", special ops. Although his intentions were to override the sounds, he found calmness in the quiet nights at the base, no one bothered him, no one questioned him, and no one would strut up to him with words he only wished he could shove down their throats.

Solitude was a friend and enemy to Ghost, it made his demons lash out as often as he found his mind wandering off, dazed and drowsy. Insomnia made it a daily thing, loneliness wasn't a word he had in his vocabulary, he worked better solo, but having someone he trusted helping him was tolerable.

He was enjoying - enjoying was an understatement but no other word came to his mind - his moment of silence on his own, unbothered by the life inside the base. He was tired, but sleep wouldn't catch him, his eyes were dazed but never closed. He sighed, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he stared far away, eyes moving over his surroundings without staying on anything for too long.

"L.T., can I come out?" a gentle voice spoke out, asking him for permission as if he owned the space he was occupying. He almost scoffed at how soft and respectful your tone was, a stark contrast to this morning's mission you were sent together; though he liked the respect you had for his space, people rarely having him such consideration.

He groaned out his response, neither a yes nor a no, but he didn't tell you to go away; "Fuck off, Johnny, " as he'd occasionally tell Soap. He heard the door click and slam shut behind you, watching you step into the yellow light through the corner of his eyes. You took tentative steps towards him, hands slipped into your black, cargo pants, eyes straining in the dark to see him.

He realized you were dressed casually, cargo pants and a blouse shirt tucked into them, you seemed ready to go out or had plans. You cleaned up well from your soot and dirt-covered skin and hair from the deployment, the shallow scratch from shrapnel was disinfected and closed neatly.

He pushed himself against the wall as frag grenades were thrown at him, hidden behind a wall that held well against the loud blast. His headset helped muffle the booming sound of the continued explosions, the shock from it blowing rock, dust, and shrapnel his way.

"Ghost! Winter! How copy?!" Soap's voice screamed through the thick buzzing in their ears, laced with worry for you both.

"Just a scratch, Soap!" They heard your voice loud and clear, a sharp tone cutting the worry that grew in their chest. "You broken, Soap, Ghost?"

He would've sighed in relief if he were in another situation, but the mission needed his complete attention. He waited for the moment when the grenades stopped being thrown at them, he fished his frag and threw it, covered behind the safety of the brick wall.

The explosion rocked the ground, screams from the enemies reaching his ears satisfyingly. At that moment, he moved under the cover of the dust, ducking into the enemy line just as you reached the other side, doming the terrorist standing before you. When he met you in the middle, he took a quick moment to examine your face, the bleeding wound on your cheek dirtied with dark soot and beige, crusted sand. Otherwise, the sharp gleam in your eyes told him all he needed, you were fine, winded but still strongly standing.

He turned as fast as he got to your side and marched into the base, you following behind him. Once you entered the base, the infiltration mission could truly start its way to the end, the capture of this base.

"Ghost and Winter going in."

You approached him slowly, gazing at the butt of his cigarette. You were clean and that smile on your face felt odd to him after he spent hours staring at your cold, dead stare behind the rifle you held when you infiltrated the base in tow with him.

"We wondered if you wanted to go to the bar with us, it's on Price," your question didn't seem odd, it wouldn't be the first time they had you invite him to join them at the pub, to drink at a cornered booth in a bustling pub. We, as you mentioned, were probably Soap, Gaz, Roach, and Price, none fearing to send you to Ghost.

Before he could reply, you interjected, "C'mon, L.T., bourbon on the rocks. Soap told me the pub we're going has good bourbon." You knew he liked it on the rocks, that he only liked bourbon, he'd only drink it. You hadn't teased or whined about it like Soap did, you complimented his refined palette, once mentioning how you sometimes enjoyed bourbon too.

The team knew he had a soft spot for you, however odd and crazy sounding it felt to him for saying he felt comfortable with you. He had replayed his words in his minds nights ago, how he'd grown comfortable around you, almost fond of you, and how considerate you were with him - a soft, feminine touch to his military life.

You had a way with him, your words made him react more strongly than any others would. Months spent working closely with you, you were his one on one buddy, his trusted cover fire, his smart and kind teammate. The missing aspect of a feminine figure in his life probably made his fondness for you stronger. Most women who've approached him in the past merely wanted a one-night stand, a quick, detached fling they found big and beefy - him especially for the balaclava he always wore, the mystery and thrill behind his identity - and they were drunk out of their mind or horny, wanted a good fuck for the night, no attachments or feelings.

He took a last breath of his smoke, dropping it to step over the burning tip as he pulled his mask down, snugly against his stubbled jaw. He hadn't found the time to shave, not being able to stand his face - Simon Riley's face, the man he was no more - on the mirror, it brought disgust and self-hatred coursing through his veins.

Your smile widened, it stretched slightly on both edges as you stepped back, giving Ghost the space he needed. You kept your eyes on him, the glazed-over look in his warm, brown eyes and the tired slant of his lids.

"I take that as a yes, Ghost?"

The triumphant tilt of your head looked quirky, it reminded him of a puppy. The slight shift of your head made your blouse crumple, the chains and dog tag glinting under the yellow light. Whenever you'd go out, you kept your dog tag, it was to you - like it was to them - a remnant of who they were when they started, a lost memory of their past as recruits and privates before climbing up the ranks.

With each step you took back, he took one forward, steadily sliding out of the darkness and into the light like a monster from the night, crawling and stalking for the right moment to pounce. Every step he took was calculated, silently stalking behind you when you turned your back to him. He wanted to tell you how dangerous it was to have your back towards him, he was a danger - a menace for your doe-eyed stare.

It was a short walk around the base, his long legs easily outpacing your shorter ones, leading you to Price's Ford, a rented one from the British base. You both knew your way around the building and where officials parked their cars, on one side were military vehicles, and the other regular cars. Soap waved them over when he saw Ghost's lumbering figure approaching, calling out for your names throughout the calm night, ignoring Price's warnings about it being late.

"Knew ya'd do it, ain't da right, bonnie?" Soap grinned, springing his arm around your shoulders, and pulling your head to his hard chest. He smelled of fresh cologne and soap, as they all did after a messy mission.

"Course you did, huh, Soap?" Gaz teased, freeing you from the Scot's hook.

You filed into the car, Price taking the wheel while Gaz took the passenger seat - he called dibs on "shotgun" or so he said - Roach and you moved to the back of the eight-seater SUV, leaving the middle row for the two walls of muscles.

The ride out was filled with Gaz and Soap's quips and ranged discussions, they went back and forth, calling one of you out to back up their points or simply wanting your opinions. Whenever Roach signed something, you told the rest, letting them know his words. The few grunts and groans from Ghost were the only signs of life from him, his gaze concentrated on the darkened window on his side, staring out into the lights that lit up the city.

He was on guard - always had been - on the ride and while you walked into the pub, eyes gazing around him and the team, taking in his surrounding with wary glares. The warm, gold bulbs cast their light on the honey, brick walls, black lounge seats, reflective, marble tables, and simple chairs. People most sat near the bar table and on red stools, where the drinks came out more quickly and the wait shorter. Ghost was eyeing them as he sat down, he took the edge of a lounge, a better place to watch over the place and move hastily if he had to.

You sat to Ghost's right, squeezed between him and Roach while Price sat comfortably on his own chair, letting Gaz and Soap take up the other side of the lounge. The bantering duo was tasked to order their drinks: a few shots for him and Gaz, bourbon on the rocks (bourbon and ice), rum for the Captain, and a rum and coke for both you and Roach, preferring the sweeter side of alcoholic drinks. Once Price gave Gaz his card - to open a tab - they walked to the bar, repeating the list you made.

When the first drinks were served, Gaz brought them over, his shots and Ghost's bourbon. You watched Soap pass the card and juggle three drinks to your booth at the farthest corner of the pub.

"Order's up!" Soap announced, voice as jovial as usual. "Yer rum, Captain," he placed the cup down, the golden liquid sloshing around, nearly spilling. "Rum and coke, bonnie, Roach," he slid over your cup, the brown and ice clinking against the glass, the lime neatly stuck in place.

"To a successful mission."

You cheered after Price raised his cup, clinking your alcoholic drinks together and each taking sip, Soap, and Gaz downed their first shot glass. Ghost, however, didn't share your giddy celebration, pulling his mask high enough to drink slowly, face covered by the hood of his black hoodie.

"That was a good throw, Ghost, saved our arses back there," you peered at him, head cocked his way with a proud smile.

His eyes glazed over your face, starting from your eye and down to your moving lips. He repeated your words in his mind, blinking lazily with a grunt: "You did good, Winter."

"Ya shoulda seen her! Followin' L.T. and takin' everything down, " Soap slammed the shot cup down, cheeks slightly pink, yet far from drunk, it was his second shot of tequila. "Und yer waes cool too, cold as winter back in Scotland!

A few drinks seemed to make his accent harder, words changing from English to near-deep Scottish. It was funny to hear him spit words that no one understood.

I wish I could've seen that, must've been quite the sight, huh? Gaz and Roach weren't deployed for that mission, they were needed elsewhere during the last two days, somewhere north of you.

"'S nothing wrong with that, right? Cap?" you directed your pout at your Captain, forcing him to answer even though he'd prefer not to get too involved in your childish banter - or so he kept saying.

"Not bad, no, 's fine Winter. Stay sharp and frosty's good."

"So long's your not as grumpy as Ghost, Winter, " Gaz's teasing jab made you laugh, the image of you being as gloomy and broody as Ghost wasn't something you'd see yourself as.

Frowning too much would make you old and wrinkle faster, as your mom once said. It wasn't something you planned on doing, Ghost was dark enough for the whole team, and the baggage he carried was heavy enough for the team to support him, even though he kept everyone out of his trauma, you all still promised to listen when the time came.

A few glasses became many, and the table balanced on its sole leg with the piling amount of empty cups. Soap and Gaz were drunk out of their mind, slurring words and cheeks flushed hotly with the promise of a horrible hangover. Roach looked tipsy, but you knew by how unmoving he was that he too, was drunk, just not as much as the three others. Price, however serious or smiley he got, was as drunk as Gaz, cheeks red and inflamed, holding his empty cup of rum and mumbling incoherent thing. You enjoyed one rum and coke, Ghost having two, you were both designated drivers, you for not wanting to drink too much, and Ghost for his self-restraint with alcohol.

"All fuckin' plastered, " you heard Ghost hiss out, moving to hoist Price against him to put them into the SUV. Their stumbling steps could hardly make a step or two off their seats.

After you left to close the tab, you pocketed Price's card and helped Roach, guiding him outside the establishment and into the back row, leaning into the side window. Ghost went back for Soap as you did with Gaz, piling them onto one another, arms clutching each other like cuddling children. You snickered, they always ended up like this when Price or Soap took you to drink, pulling at their clothes and waking wrapped together with headaches and nausea.

You moved to look at Ghost, catching the dazed gaze he had as he stared at you, watching you pushing the two men inside while he waited beside you.

"Want me to drive, L.T.? You had two mugs," you met his eyes gazing a lot him quizzically, ready to take the keys from his pockets.

When he nodded and passed the keys to you, you rounded the car and took the driver's seat. You were ready to leave when he sat in the passenger seat, staring into the street. It was a slow ride, you drove slowly to mitigate the drunks' stomachs, swirling to the side when the road had a big pothole.

Without Gaz or Soap talking, it was extremely quiet, only the slurred mumbles and snores from them filling the car. While you concentrated on driving, Ghost took the moment to peer at you, watching your calm expression. It was so expressive, your face morphing from happiness to cold, calculated cunningness, your expression changed as fast as the wind's course, blowing north one second and south the next.

He was almost mesmerized by you, your glimmering irises, your shoulder-lengthed hair, and the soft skin scarred but still beautiful to him. Bonnie, Soap called you, rightful and truthful in their eyes. You were young and a feisty beauty, snarling back when you played, smiling brightly when you talked to them (even to him, he never understood how you could stand smiling or looking at him, an abomination compared to someone like you) and grew cold, dangerous when you were deployed, a take-no-shit.

He was scarred and carried around his trauma like a glove, engrained in his bones and hung from his skin. He wore a mask to hide his past, he covered himself to hide from prying eyes, from people who asked why he wore a mask, if he took it off, or if he was ugly - human in any sense. You hadn't, you respected his limits, the barrier he placed around him, and the ones people placed around themselves. You didn't ask any of them for their secrets when you first joined. He first thought you were polite, but then he saw the wall you put up, like them, you had secrets you held dearly to your heart.

His mind wandered back to you every time he tried thinking of something else, even as you parked the car and slipped out, helping him move everyone to their room, Soap and Gaz, Roach and you, and Price on his own.

He watched you close the door, eyes stuck to your back until all he could see was the door, the grey and beige walls of the barracks filling his vision.

"Fuck-" Gaz groaned, head held between his hands. His face was scrunched in pain, fingers delicately holding onto the locks of his brown hair.

"Ma heid's loupin'..." his roommate grumbled, laying face down into his crossed arms. Heat pulsed in his head, it was painful from the way he groaned and whined. "Don't ya laugh a mae, Winter."

You couldn't help it, everyone apart from you and Ghost were hungover, face scrunched in pain, Price and Roach's mild, while Gaz and Soap suffered more strongly.

You'd been able to lead all the stumbling and groaning men to the Task Force's small kitchen, leaving Ghost to watch over them while you got them water and painkillers from the infirmary.

"I warned you about drinking too much, didn't I?" you grinned, placing down two pills for each of them. You knew they'd need it if they wanted to get things done, and from experience, their bigger bodies needed twice as much as you did.

Thank you, he was hardly able to sign his words, hands shaky and eyes red-rimmed with pain skewering his head over drinking a bit too much. He thought he'd learn to limit himself, but he got thrown into the flow with Soap and Gaz's insistent drinking.

You sat on the other side of the L-shaped sofa, giving him the space you knew he wanted, both watching over the cacophony of pained hushes and mumbles. Your eyes met, his a warm, tired brown hugged by the dark paint on his skin flashed with you squinted ones, appreciating the sight of your found family in one place. You both knew that you'd die for one another and the Task Force, damned any destiny, this was the most important thing you had. Something bright in your dark world.

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shootingstarpilot · 8 months

Text

An Interlude on Melidaan

(Please check the tags for content warnings!)

Stitch is sitting with Helix when he gets the call.

Helix had woken up for just long enough to squint, recognize Stitch, mutter something about his head having been trampled by a herd of banthas, and pass out again- enough to reassure Stitch that the surgery had gone smoothly. He doesn't like it when any of them are out of commission, but it had been agreed that de-chipping the medics was a priority so they could facilitate removals of the rest of the 212th when they were underway again.

Helix had volunteered first, with an expression that forbade disagreement. Needle's in pre-op now, Stitch knows- he'd hugged him tight and had told him not to worry, and Stitch had nodded against his chest and had told him he was going to worry anyway because that's what you did for your brothers, and Needle's smile had gone all soft around the edges before he'd vanished down the hall.

Stitch has a very long list of things you do for your brothers, and the list grows longer by the day.

And right behind worrying for your brothers is going to them when they need you.

"Needle?"

He knocks once, twice, three times before a steady voice tells him to come in.

He does.

Needle is sitting on the edge of the gurney, pale-faced, hands clutching the blanket under him so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Another person- Stitch had seen her at Jess's side, but had missed her name- is standing a safe distance away, head tilted back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Stitch blinks. "What happened?"

Needle laughs, hoarse and hurting. "Nothing yet," he mutters. "I- can't. Apparently."

He shifts. "Sorry about your nose, Rittan."

The surgeon- Rittan- is olive-skinned and square-jawed and has a knot of scar tissue sealing shut the socket where her left eye should be. She wrinkles her nose assessingly, drops her hand, and waves Needle's apology off as she settles into her chair.

Stitch likes her immediately.

"Don't be," she says easily. "I've had worse. I once called a total evac when Bretta tossed me an apple and I saw a grenade. We've all got our own twitches."

It takes Stitch a moment to make the connection.

To realize why he's here.

And then he looks again at Needle's pale face and thinks-

Oh.

Needle glances up.

"I- can't," he bursts out. "I thought I could, but I- can't. I can't have- I can't-"

He stops. His shoulders sag.

"I can't," he repeats helplessly. "I can't. I want it out. I can't."

"But you know-"

"Yeah."

"And that it could-"

"I know."

"Or even-"

"Stitch."

Stitch's mouth snaps shut. Needle winces.

"I... know," he says slowly. "I do. I want it out. I want it out. I want it out."

He stops. Presses his hands hard against his eyes.

"I was this close to lying to both of you," he says eventually. "Tell her I'd get it done on the ship. Tell you I'd gotten it done here. And just-"

He shrugs. Helpless. Hurting.

"It could wipe you away," Stitch says desperately, and regrets it immediately when Needle's whole body jerks.

"So maybe I'll just sit here until the end of fucking time, then," Needle snaps, "because I can't let it stay in my brain but I can't let anyone else's fingers in there either! Not-"

He stops.

Stitch's whole chest hurts.

Not again.

"Sorry," Needle says hoarsely. "Sorry. I- hell. Rittan suggested calling someone, but- you can go. I'll figure it out. You can-"

Stitch has stopped listening.

A slow plan is bubbling to life in the back of his mind.

"Needle," he interrupts, "you trust me, right?"

"I- what? Of course-"

"And you want it out?"

Needle curls inwards, hugging himself.

"I don't want it to happen again, Stitch," he whispers, and Stitch nods.

Needle trusts him. Needle wants it out.

He can't let it be taken out.

But he wants it out.

Okay.

"I am going to get you something to drink," he says decisively. "Because hydration is important. While I think. You'll stay here?"

He's met with a wan smile. "Cross my heart."

Stitch hesitates.

(But Needle does this all the time. And it's- nice.)

After a beat, he cups Needle's face in his hands, leans down, and carefully presses a kiss to his forehead.

Needle's eyes are very wide, when he looks down.

"Did I do that right?" Stitch asks, suddenly feeling unaccountably nervous.

Needle's smile looks more like Needle, this time. "Perfect."

Oh.

That's-

That's good.

Right.

The plan.

He returns with a cup of grape juice.

(Needle trusts him.)

He hands it to Needle.

(Needle trusts him.)

Needle drinks, without a second's hesitation.

(Needle trusts him.)

Stitch catches both him and the cup.

"Pretty strong grape juice," Rittan observes.

She's- watching him.

Stitch meets her gaze. "Propofol," he says quietly. "Grape juice so he won't associate it with water later. I'll be your second."

Another item on the list of things you do for your brothers:

The things they can't.

Stitch is largely silent, as Rittan narrates every step.

Watching.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

At one point:

"There's a lot of scarring," Rittan observes. "More than I'd have expected."

"Yes," Stitch says, and does not elaborate.

Needle is moved to recovery.

Stitch settles down next to him.

He doesn't know how much time passes before Needle's breathing shifts into something shallower. Faster.

Stitch knows panic when he sees it, and pokes him. "Needle."

"Mmph."

"Needle," Stitch repeats, and pokes him again.

"...'ch?"

"Yes. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

A moment of stillness. He sees Needle's eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, hears his breathing hitch-

"Needle. Needle. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

Needle's hands flex, curling into the sheet-

"'s a trick question," he manages. "Y'got two."

"What're the two, then?"

"...Blue. 'N tall."

"See?" Stitch whispers, smiling when Needle's eyes crack open and focus on him. "Still you. Still my Needle."

Needle's brow furrows, puzzled. "You..."

Stitch sits on his hands to stop himself from tapping.

"Stitch...?"

"Propofol in the grape juice," he whispers. "You couldn't. So I did."

A beat. A slow nod.

"Are you angry?"

A slow smile spreads across Needle's face.

"Good medic," he sighs, closing his eyes again, and Stitch carefully leans forward and rests his head on Needle's chest.

Feeling him breathe.

"I learned from the best," he whispers, and Needle's free hand reaches upwards and settles in his hair.

It'll be his turn in a bit, he knows. But Rittan will come and find him.

He's got time.

Needle's asleep by the time Stitch senses someone at the door.

He shifts as much as he can without disturbing Needle and looks up, expecting Rittan-

"Hey," Helix says quietly. He's leaning against the doorframe, eyes bright. "Everything go okay?"

Stitch nods.

There's a lump in his throat.

Helix pushes himself up and makes his way over, his gaze flickering towards the monitors. He stops at Needle's side, brushes his hair back-

Then he leans down and drops a kiss on his forehead.

Quick and swift as anything.

He keeps one hand there when he turns to Stitch.

"Rittan asked me to call you," he says quietly. "You want company?"

Stitch shakes his head. "You have to stay here. With Needle. Okay?"

A faintly puzzled smile flickers across Helix's face as he settles into the other chair. "Okay, Stitch. Second bed in here's free, too- I'll make sure it stays that way for you."

"Thanks, Helix," Stitch says. He gathers himself, stands, makes his way towards the door-

Then he pauses. "Did Needle get that from you?"

Helix glances up. "Get what?"

"The forehead kisses. He's good at those."

Helix snorts a laugh. "Doubt it. I think he was kind before he got here."

Stitch nods.

He thinks so, too.

#anyway i've been messing around with how much brain surgery would fuck with needle for ages #so i am inflicting those thoughts on you #shoulder the sky #dubious morality #specifically: stitch drugs needle's drink for brain surgery #desperate times call for desperate measures #kamino fucked everyone up and they are all strangers to healthy coping mechanisms

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prince-toffee · 5 months

Text

So, I rewatched the trailer over and over again, I stepped back, organised my thoughts, and I think I get it.

So first the Bad, then the GOOD, because there's actually a lot to like here.

The Bad:

So, the trend of companies kicking actual voice actors onto the curb and replacing them with celebrities continues. I remember being really angry when they first announced the voice cast, and I still am. It's quite literally the most boring, generic casting possible. You can not get much more white bread, milk toast than a Chris and Scar - I want to play an Asian woman and trans man - jo. Also, why is Chris Hemsworth here? Do he really need the money? Did Thor 4 damage his pockets that bad? There are so many talented voice actors that could've been Orion, David Kaye is a prime example Animated Optimus and Beats Wars/Unicron Trilogy Megatron, beloved by fans, if he was announced people would've been over joyed. I love Brian Tyree Henry, and he actually has some experience with va work as he voiced Jeff Morales in Spider-Verse, my original criticism still stands.... And Kegan, oh Kegan, I love you so much, Key and Peele was my childhood, and the Toad performance was perfectly fine, endearing even. But as Bee? I'm sorry, but no, that's not BumbleBee that's just actor/comedian Kegan Michael Key, I can't hear anything else. And it doesn't help that he's handed the worst lines.

Which brings us to the comedy. First impressions are EVERYTHING. And if you fumble that that hurts your film, and the perception of your film. I think that's really the problem here, it's a bad trailer not necessarily bad content. Packing the trailer with jokes for the sake of jokes and having that samey Hollywood liscensed music cringey feel to it. Like the guitar riff that played when the 'This Fall' card came up just made me turn off the video immediately. That's why I recommend watching the trailer without sound. Bee's jokes don't really land for me, I'm sure kids with love it tho, and that's good. But I'm sure all the jokes won't be bad, the final door gag is actually really funny. So I think it was just a bad joke that soured out feel of the tone at the beginning, which is unfortunate because like I said first impressions are everything. Because this is Josh Cooly, of Up, Inside Out, Toy Story 4 fame, I'm sure the film will have an emotional core to it.

A minor thing I don't much care for is having Bee be in the same age range as Orion, in my mind he's always constructed during the war at like the half way mark or near the end, he's the little brother of the group, and now he's old enough to remember Op and Megs before the war. Also he sounds way too old.

Oh, also I don't like Orion's personality.

Good:

Now for the good; I think the animations style is gorgeous. Would have I liked something Spider-Verse/Mutant Mayhem-esk, of course, but what are you gonna do? The stand out here is the environments, a visual feast. This might already be my favourite Cybertron, it's so different yet reminisant of the Cybertron we know. The fact that the surface transformers and shifts and changes is genius, very IDW Phase 2 inspired. And the fact that Cybertron is a techno-organic hybrid world ala Beast Machines is crazy! I love that, and wildlife! I bet that's how we get the cassettes. The character models are great too, you can actually tell what emotion is happening on a person's face. Gone are the days of faces being made up of razor blades and mandibles BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT INSECTS FUCK YOU MICHAEL BAY. THEY'RE PEOPLE! There's the nose, the lips, the eyes, and I can tell where one begins and ends. The eyes are gorgeous and detailed, and the face surface detail has smuges, wear, specs of dirt, metallic texture. Like, you nailed it! It's a person but a robot, you got it!

We see what we assume are the 13 Primes, Alpha Trion being the only survivor, maybe they were killed by the Quintessons and they took over. D-16, a ref to IDW and his toys designation in the toy catalogue, he'll obviously name himself after Megatronus ala TF Prime. He seems to have the Decepticon insignia before meeting The Fallen so maybe Megatronus' face is some sort of religious iconography, the Primes are a religion on Cybertron after all. It's all so fascinating, I can't remember the last time I was so excited to learn more about a new TF continuity.

Orion and D-16 are both miners and or workers, that's a refreshing take, no coptimus here. They've suffered the same way together, I bet story will be about dealing with that pain, what justice means, how far one is willing to take it and where justice stops and injustice begins. I know people are mad that the origins are a little different, but I ask you, different from what? Which continuity are you talking about? TF has never had a consistent singular timeline, and that's what I love about this franchise! It builds on itself with each new continuity! Take a bit of the old, mix it with new ideas and create something fresh, then that old guard leaves and a new team takes over and does the same and the franchise continues to evolve or should I say transform. Like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get, and new incarnations always give second chances to improve apon what came before. No Reboots, no risks means no Skybite, or Nemesis Prime, no Stasis Pods, Sparks, Protoforms, Energon ore, no Star Saber, Hot Shot, Knock Out, Airachnid, no All Spark, no Sari, no Bulkhead, no old grumpy Ratchet, none of that. Reboots are a part of this franchise's DNA. I sense the people that are complaining are the people who only value one continuity and discard all others.

It's really neat this universe's version of The Cast System is lower class worker protoforms being denied a Transformation Cog, it seems like it's reserved for the higher classes, the very thing that makes their species special and unique is denied to them. Also I didn't notice it the first time, but Alpha actually pulls the t-cogs out of the dead Primes which kind of signifies a passing of the guard, the old Primes failed, now it's your turn, and of course history repeats itself with the downfall of Megatron.

I like how Trion is covered and intertwined with moss and vines and has a beast mode, showcasing that he's of an older era now gone and forgotten.

Some other smaller stuff:

The sun looks like a holographic simulation, which makes me wonder, Cybertron doesn't usually have a sun, but there's plant life now, so what's up?

The cave that the dead Primes and Trion are in kinda looks like a Dweller.

Megatron's black helmet is a ref to Marvel G1.

That spin kick where Elita twirls her entire waist around is sooo satisfying. I love it.

AIRACHNID!!?!!!! MY QUEEN HAS RETURNED!!!!!!!

I think that's a good point to end on. So, yeah, v excited.

#transformers one #maccadam #maccadams #tf one

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alonygamingnerd · 25 days

Text

"The night before"

Sedra Campaign intermission

12 hours before Operation Novatic-Iron, Sedra Campaign. The 187th Marines, November Company attack to destroy 6 Tyrant Anti-air cannons in the northern mountains of Sedra.

November Company has gathered all around in the cafeteria for somewhat of a tradition that the whole regiments does before and after OP, some tables are quiet with Marines playing card games or just casually chatting while other tables are loud with laughter and cheering with the older Marines sharing stories with the younger Marines of either their heroics or stories back from home. Members of 3rd platoon who had come to join this little pre-OP cheers were gathered around a pair of tables in the corner near the door, Grimes was leaning on the wall near them listening to the stories that Mullin was telling while at the same time watching the room incase of any trouble. Shield 2 silently walks up behind Grimes, “Seems like they're having fun.”

Grimes slightly jumps, caught by surprise of the spartan quietly walking in behind him before recollecting himself, “Yea, let them enjoy themselves a bit, especially with what comes tomorrow. What brings you up tonight?”

“Was out for walk and decided to stop by” the spartan answered

Grimes takes a quick glance at the spartan to see he had been scanning the room checking every Marine in the room, November company was small compared to other companies which had around 130 to 250 men, November was at around 115. Mostly due to the fact they had not received any new troops in what had been now 2 months so they had to “borrow” around 10 Marines from Lima and Whiskey companies for tomorrow. But their was another reason for his visit beside from the walk excuse he gave, Grimes had known these spartans long enough to know what a visit from each of them ment: Shield 1 would only stop by if looking for CPT Martin or COL Leblanc to make that everything for an OP is ready and their won’t be any issues, Shield 3 and 4 never visit, Shield 5 is light hearted and visit from her ment an easy OP, Shield 6 was former Marine and comes to simply visit to be back around fellow leather neck, and Shield 2, who cares a lot more than he shows and would go out of way to try and save as many people as he could, a visit from him ment 2 things. Either he was simply stopping by to meet the new marines and help ease them into the company or he was scanning the room to prepare himself for the reports that he was going to write and the casualties list he was going to get from each platoon.

“Go hangout, relax some and take your mind off things” Grimes said, gesturing the spartan to the tables where 3rd platoon were sitting to try and help the spartan ease himself.

He thought about it for a second then walked over to their tables. Mullins was in the middle of one of his stories when he noticed the spartan, “Hey, look who it is, nice of you to join us. I was just in the middle of telling these kids from Lima company a story about how we took down a scarab using nothing but C12 and having Kloee climb the damn thing's legs while it was still walking and almost stepped on the Captain.”

Shield 2 looks down to his left and sees a young marine steering up at him, almost blinded by the sight of a spartan. “First time seeing a spartan in person?” he asks. The young marine nodes his head in acknowledgement. The spartan moves both of hands up to his head and takes off his helmet revealing his white face, with burn scars running up the right side of his head from his neck to his lower right check, a light scar running on the right side of his face in between his brown eye and nose, a deep cut across his left eye which was completely white, a poorly maintained goatee, dark brown short hair with faded sides and in the back a small ponytail, and finally a tattoo on the left side of his head in front of his ear of a rat wearing a marine helmet, a tattoo given to those whose have served in or with the 67th Marine regiment for 5 years or more. Holding his helmet in his right hand, he extends out his left hand “Chris B-220, Shield 2.”

The marine is frozen for a moment, blindly staring at the spartans face before snapping back and shaking the spartan’s hand, “Connor Duncan, Private first class.”

#halo #unsc #halo spartan #blender #halo 2 #halo 3 #halo 4 #halo oc #halo reach #halo 5 #halo ce #halo 3 odst #halo 2 anniversary #halo combat evolved #halo infinite #halo mcc #halo art

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the-whumpening · 6 months

Text

The Freed Tiger | (Ash's Recovery Arc, Part 1)

Masterpost | Next

Ash has finally been rescued by his friends and is returning home. But how free is he really, with Ozmund's conditioning still permeating his every thought?

CW: aftermath of whump/conditioning, panic attack

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It takes until returning home before everyone is able to truly take note of Ash’s condition. Though his stoic exterior briefly broke when he realized he was indeed being rescued, he has barely made a sound since. In fact, he’s barely moved at all since being loaded in the cart and wrapped in a warm blanket. But as the sun rises overhead during the journey, the damage is obvious.

Scars and bruises paint Ash’s skin. Once hidden behind shadows and dim light, the burns encircling his neck, wrists, and ankles are visible now in the bright daylight. Ash squints away from the light, shielding his eyes with a calloused, shaky hand as they finally arrive back home. Evius guides him down out of the cart and hurries him inside; Ash stumbles along beside him, sleep-deprived and confused from all the sudden changes.

“Come on, Ash.” Evius gently presses his back to urge him along. “How about a nice warm bath, hm? I can get you some of your own clothes, too.”

Ash doesn’t nod. He doesn’t react at all, really. The words enter his ears, but he doesn’t process them. His feet drag him along the path Evius sets; his consciousness has yet to catch up.

In the bathroom, Evius fills the tub and waves his hand through the water. Indigo sparkles envelop his fingers and trail behind them, heating the water in one quick swirl. A pinching, peppermint-like smell pierces Ash’s nose, jolting his brain awake. Magic. Not exactly like His magic, but similar enough to send a wave of adrenaline through Ash’s system. He shivers, a cold sweat erupting from his pores and his stomach lurching in a nauseating twist.

“Okay, all warmed up,” Evius says, his back still turned to Ash. “Do you want me to stay, or—” He turns, finding Ash pale and sweaty, clawing at the neck of his shirt. Immediately, he leaps to his feet and tries to reach for Ash, who steps back in response. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. Sit down; you look like you’re going to be sick.” As if on command, Ash’s knees buckle and he slumps to the ground. Evius fans Ash’s face; the breeze helps to calm his thudding pulse.

Ash had been certain his rescue was real. But once that familiar smell hit his senses, doubt rocketed back to infect his mind. His thoughts race incoherently, lapping over one another like acidic waves, burning as they push and pull.

What’s in that water?

He must be coming soon.

Don’t think. Don’t think. Stay still, say nothing, DON’T THINK.

This isn’t real, is it? Where am I?

KILL ME ALREADY.

“Ash.”

You’re not real, either.

“Ash!”

Not real, not real, not real . . .

A gurgling sound slips through the gaps in his screaming thoughts. A drain? He cracks his eyes open just a hair, enough to see Evius emptying the bathtub. Why–?

“We can try again later when you’re feeling a little better, okay?” Evius says. He offers a hand to Ash, lifting him off the floor and supporting him under his arm.

What is he doing? What is this? As Ash tries to catch his breath, he realizes the piercing smell is gone. Did I imagine it? Or did he hide it? Neither thought is comforting, but he at least can feel his body once more and quiet the avalanche of thoughts.

Evius leads him out of the room, continuing, “Are you hungry? Or would you rather sleep?”

Choices. He hasn’t had that privilege in so long, it feels almost foreign to him. Eat when he wants? Sleep when he wants? How would he even know when he needs to? Hunger and sleep deprivation had haunted him so frequently in the last year; what does it even mean to be full or rested? How can he tell the difference between the hunger of a long day and the hunger of a week fed nothing but broth?

His mouth pops open and closed a few times, trying and failing to make a decision. No matter what he says, will Ozmund use it against him when the illusion ends? Is this a test of what he values more—what he can do without the longest?

“How about food first, then?” Evius gives him a gentle squeeze. “I know you love Krumgus’ cooking.”

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

A/N: I've got a few good parts of this recovery arc done, but I've still got plenty to do and no immediate end goal. Feel free to send asks/prompts if you have thoughts or suggestions!

#dnd whump #the caged tiger #whump writing #whump #recovery whump #the freed tiger #whumpblr #rublewriting

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amoebaforce · 1 year

Note

A ffxiv req here o/

Maybe childhood friend that’s followed Estinien, and/or thancred throughout their whole life and even went on all their travels with them?

(Could you maybe do the same for mister Meteor himself as well 🥺?)

Thank u op!!

this was such an interesting idea, anon! so interesting, indeed, that I decided to use a new POV for these little blurbs. here's one for Estinien and one for Thancred, written in second person.

i also LOVE the idea of doing one for the Meteor Survivor, too, but i just know i would get carried away and write waaaayy too much for an ask reply!!! that being said, i am going to write some notes on the subject for a longer fic. if you want to be tagged in such a thing (if and when i DO post it), please DM me and let me know! <3

characters featured: Thancred Waters, Estinien Wyrmblood tags: light angst, mentions of canon violence, trauma, second person, no pronouns used for reader

When you try to remember a time without him, you can’t. Even in the earliest shreds of consciousness, Estinien’s face is always there. At first, it was soft and boyish, with freckles like constellations across his nose. In your mind, that face swirls with flowery fields and the slow, sweet sunsets of childhood. It was unlined and innocent. Then, one long summer turned it angular and sharp — the same season that saw Ferndale burn.

Everyone lost someone when the dragons attacked, and you were no exception. You will never forget the screams of the dying, the unholy blaze that clung to roofs and walls and clothes, too hot and furious to quell. How could you, when your skin still bears the scars? To this day, you don’t know how you lived through it. But you did, and so did the silver-haired boy that lived next door.

In the span of a day, you both went from happy, normal children to homeless orphans. Wretches forced to rely on charity. Thankfully, you had grandparents in Ishgard. They were old and strict, but they loved you, and they were willing to take you in and help you heal. Estinien wasn’t so lucky. All he had was his rage.

After you moved to the city, life went on. Sometimes you saw Estinien around the city, trailing the Azure Dragoon like a shadow, looking so wholly unlike the child you remembered. His eyes were hollower, cheeks gaunter. He wore too-big armor and carried a too-long spear, body not yet caught up to the mind and heart. The first time you called to him from your window, Estinien looked as though he’d seen a ghost. He avoided you for weeks, until you finally cornered him in the markets and forced him to explain himself. He broke down; you broke down. The two of you have been inseparable ever since.

And yet, your relationship, too, bears the scars of the past. It’s no longer the carefree, untethered bond of your youth, full of whimsy and make-believe. The years have changed it into a fierce, protective thing. A thing with teeth and claws, willing to rip and tear to keep itself safe. You’ve witnessed one another at the best and worst of times, comforted each other through agonies untold. You’ve laughed until your sides ache and screamed until hoarse. There’s not a soul on earth you understand better, perhaps including your own.

Without him, you’d never have left Coerthas. You’d never have the chance to walk the vibrant halls of Radz-at-Han, witness the sweeping vistas of Ala Migho, or visit the bustling markets of Kugane. And without you, Estinien knows he would have crumbled a long time ago.

***

You were there from the beginning. Back in the days of pirates and back-alley deals, when Thancred was nothing but a scrawny thief on the decks of Limsa Lominsa, you were the one watching his back. With no parents or guardians to speak of, your tiny community of street urchins was the only family you had. Every child you ran with had a similar story, one where sickness or tragedy stole their childhood and forced them out onto the streets. You and Thancred were the eldest of the group, and thus bore the largest share of the responsibility for keeping everyone fed.

That’s what drew the two of you to Louisoix — not greed or hubris, but plain, biting hunger. You were tucked in an alley that fateful day, keeping an eye out for Yellowjackets as Thancred made the first move. He was quiet as a cat, and just as nimble, too, as he crept up on the berobed Elezen. He was so clearly a tourist. An easy mark. Neither of you expected the sage to have such quick reflexes.

When Thancred was caught, you braced for the worst. Your mind ran with a million fears at once. He wasn’t just your best friend. He was a lifeline. Your skills consisted of planning and acting as a lookout; Thancred was the one who actually did the pilfering. How would you feed the young ones without him? How would you treat them when they were sick? But instead of calling the guards, Louisoix bought Thancred a meal and gave him the opportunity of a lifetime.

You won’t lie, you were a little hurt when you found out Thancred meant to take the old man up on his offer. How dare he leave the gang, leave you behind? After all the things you’d done together? All the promises you’d made on those cold, hungry nights? So, like any rational Lominsan urchin, you took matters into your own hands and stowed away on the ship to Sharlayan. It’s been decades since then, and you still find yourself watching Thancred’s back.

Not that you’d want to be anywhere else. He’s more brother than friend, crafted not by the same womb, but by the same circumstance. It’s evidenced in the jokes you tell each other, the secrets you’ve told and sworn to keep, and the volumes of information you can exchange in silent glances. Talking to Thancred feels like talking to another part of yourself, as if you share a brain, or a soul. It’s beyond familiar — it’s inherent. He is a fixture of your life, and you of his. It has always been this way, and you hope it always will.

#my writing #writing request #estinien wyrmblood #thancred waters #ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv fanfic #scions of the seventh dawn #limsa lominsa #wol ffxiv #warrior of light #final fantasy xiv #estinien #heavensward #dragonsong war

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 2 years

Text

Bitter Sea [Chapter One] Máire [Sir Crocodile]

A/n: this is my first time writing for Crocodile; this has been in my head for a while but I didn't want to start writing it until after I saw more in the manga regarding Crocodile. This story will come out slowly, so please be patient. Odyssey has been giving me OP cravings. 😆

Also, there are a few connections in this fic to other OP stories I've written.

Warning(s): mentions of slavery, secrets, and dark themes.

No Minors Allowed!!

"Cassia, we're late," Alyssa – a woman with vivid purple eyes – declared.

The said woman peered across the room and gave her a brief nod, then averted her yellow eyes to the mirror to fix her horned mask. It was a cheap prop, but Cassia liked it; the mask only hid the upper part of her face – the recent bruises included – but she felt secure with it on. If only her pointed ears didn't stick out like a sore thumb. Sighing, she stood and followed Alyssa to the parlor of The Garden; several costume-clad women were roaming around either dancing or clinging to a man's arm.

It was swarming with people.

As Cassia sauntered onto the floor a busty woman near the bar called out to her. Immediately her heart sank.

As the owner of the bar and bathhouse, Lady Blossom was not a woman to take for granted. Cassia knew; she suffered many a punishment for her disobedient actions. The bracelets on her arms were not a fashion statement.

"My Lady," Cassia greeted.

"I have someone special for you to entertain," Lady Blossom mentioned as she shoved a tray into her tattooed arms; its contents were a bottle of brandy, a cigar, and a pack of wooden matches.

Was she entertaining a businessman?

She motioned for Cassia to follow her, leading the dark-haired woman from the parlor to the bathhouse. The warm steam clung to her scanty clothes but she didn't mind; she was used to the heat. And Lady Blossom always assigned her to the bathhouse when she was hard to manage. Cassia wasn't always good with guests, especially handsy ones, but it was better than having to work in the parlor where the guests were violent and rowdy.

Taking the said woman to a closed door, Lady Blossom turned and ran a manicured finger across Cassia's cheek; her ears twitched in annoyance.

"Behave. And smile a little," she ordered.

Cassia agreed despite wanting to bite her finger off. She sighed and put on her best smile before she entered the room. Inside she was greeted by a familiar sight; a naked man resting in a claw foot tub. Only this man made her hum in interest. She had never seen one with a hook for a hand. Recovering from her moment of wonder, Cassia cleared her throat and took the tray over to the table across the room.

"May I interest you in a cigar or a glass of brandy?" She asked.

"Brandy first," the man answered. His voice was rather deep.

Cassia poured a glass and took it over to him, resting on her knees beside the tub. Offering it to him, she stared a moment at the long stitched scar that stretched across his face at the bridge of his nose. It was an interesting scar, but the moment his deep-set eyes averted to her, she turned her attention to the floor.

"What's your name?" The man asked.

"The name given to me was Cassia," she answered.

It wasn't her real name. No. Her real name didn't fit the theme of the inn, at least that is what Lady Blossom told her.

"It doesn't suit you," the dark-haired man mentioned.

Her face heated up. Cassia raised a brow and looked at him as he drank his brandy. How did it not suit her? She was named after the purging cassia plant with its beautiful golden flowers; the color of her eyes. However, she was not as vibrant as a cassia flower, not with her dark hair and tattooed hands that revealed symbols from a time in her past that was painful to remember.

"And neither do those bracelets," he added.

Cassia tinkered with the one on her right wrist. Did he know what they were for?

"My powers are prohibited here," she mentioned.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth either. Cassia ignored the nagging feeling in her gut to inquire about his knowledge of the bracelets and took a clean rag from the side of the tub, lathering it up with honey-scented soap. She started with his right arm, running the rag along his pale skin.

"What brings you to the Pleasure District?" Cassia asked.

It was part of her job to ask questions, though she didn't want to pry. When the man didn't answer her, she sighed.

"You have no obligation to answer me; I don't mind the silence."

She favored it.

"I'm looking for someone," he mentioned.

Cassia raised a brow. Someone who worked in the Pleasure District? Perhaps his friend was taken and sold in the auction house. Or lover.

"The Garden is a decent start, I suppose you could ask our Madam. She governs the island too," she explained.

"I have an idea where she is," the man uttered.

So, he was looking for a woman. Cassia grinned.

"How lucky. The people here would swoon to hear someone was more interested in them than the services they provide."

Luckily, The Garden was not a brothel; it was an inn located in the New World on Kaika Shima (the flowering island).

As Cassia ran the rag over the back of the man's neck, she heard him chuckle.

"Is that so? The woman I am looking for is a witch."

Cassia raised a brow. Her hand stalled for a moment, but she quickly recovered.

"No offense, but that sounds ridiculous."

"She's known as the Queen of Curses," the man mentioned.

Why was he telling her this?

"I've never heard of someone here with that title. Most are asked to change their names upon entering this island though. Madame Blossom prohibits lawlessness as some of the patrons that come here are government officials and World Nobles," Cassia mentioned. She took an uneasy breath.

Though some are forced to, she opted not to say. She had seen her fair share of people brought to the island against their wills; all of them had been on the auction block as she had. As long as the nobles were entertained, the Marines turned a blind eye to where the workers came from. As far as Cassia knew Kaika Shima did nothing to warrant the attention of the Marines; all the businesses were legal.

"That's a shame," the scarred man mentioned regarding her knowledge of the women he sought.

As Cassia began to run the rag down his left arm, he turned his eyes to her. She avoided his curious gaze and continued her task; her ears twitched in annoyance.

"I've never seen anyone with ears like yours."

"That's because there aren't many like me," Cassia retorted.

She didn't want to get into it. For all, she knew her kind had been wiped out years ago, including her family. With an uneasy sigh, she rang the rag out and stood.

"Let me get that cigar for you."

Cassia stood and sauntered over to where she sat the tray down. Once her hands were dry, she picked up the matches and the cigar and brought them over to the client. He rested the end between his thin lips as she struck the match and lit the tip.

"It's been an honor serving you," Cassia mentioned with a bow. She forced a smile and leaned up. "I'll be outside near the door if you require me. Please enjoy your bath."

She turned to leave, but the client soon stopped her.

"Your given name is Máire, is it not?"

Cassia felt her stomach churn in dread. She hadn't heard that name spoken in a long time. Her fingers clenched into a fist and she peered over her shoulder at him.

"I'm sorry sir, but I've already said it before... I know nothing of the person you speak of."

The client laughed and blew a plume of ashen smoke into the air.

"Masks aren't hard to read when the one wearing them is a terrible liar."

Without a comment, Cassia retreated from the room and sat down beside the door. Her heart was racing with fear. Who was this man? And what did he know about her?

#one piece fanfiction #sir crocodile #one piece fandom #sir crocodile x oc

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sunset-peril · 1 year

Text

Successors - Epilogue - Legends Never Die

*Three Months Later*

~~~~~

Op… ey…

Op… your eyes…

Open your eyes…

Wake up, Link…

His head throbbed. Who was that? She was calling, but thinking about her hurt. His eyes opened and, for some reason, swept to the odd glowing wall beside him. His newly found breath choked and his eyes began to burn. Who knows how long they'd been resting, but they already protested. Something surged through him and strengthened these. It was grief.

What, or who, was he grieving so instantly? Was it that woman? Who was she?

He should probably get up. He hit the floor. He got up again. He had to. This grief wasn't stopping. Underneath it, the captured expression of catastrophic failure. It surged and he had no reason why. But he had to stop it. To do so, he had to find that reason.

While he stumbled around, he found a pedestal in the otherwise empty room. It lit up, and he saw the massive mass of wires above where he once laid.

That is a Sheikah Slate. Take it. His attention was redirected. It will prove useful on your journey.

A familiar eye flashed in front of him. The grief surged. The light made him notice blood on the floor. He bolted out of the building in response. The view was huge. He felt small and hopeless.

He met an old man on the desolate plateau he'd glimpsed from that cliff. One who held him hostage for a little too long. Had he, Rhoam was the name and the former King of Hyrule he was, not already been dead, Link might have done the deed. Something within him resented this Rhoam person… the reasons why, however, refused to return.

She was named Zelda.

Zelda. The wind whispered in his ears. He realized they'd been saying her name all along. A goddess…

Something tugged on him. His goddess, his mind decided without any reason or memory. Flexing his scars for the first, second, third time was definitely uncomfortable, but he promised himself the pain was fading away.

The grass. He fell onto his hands and feet as his descent from this Great Plateau concluded.

Oh, how he suddenly became alive! These fibers under his palms, something was alight. His senses narrowed and, though it was unnatural for a Hylian's hips to be in perfect horizontal alignment with their shoulders, Link's did so without a flick of effort. He raced through the ruins that greeted his feral figure, growing stronger with every rock, grass blade and grain of sand that touched his scarred palms.

There was a lake! Before he processed the liquid, it covered his body.

Paddle.

Paddle paddle.

Paddle paddle-

Splish!

Link's nose was bobbing in and out of the water in a foolish manner. He saw a fish swim by.

It was bleeding underneath his teeth the second later. He retreated to the shore with this paddling that surely wasn't Hylian in the least to enjoy his snack.

His former self would have demanded he at least warm up the scaly supper before tearing in, but the first drops of blood that fell onto his tongue reminded him of an important truth:

He hadn't eaten in a very long time. The bones, organs, blood, and flesh all went down the same.

As he finished up the remains, he realized that his hips had been swaying in a most peculiar manner.

And that there were two fearful travelers staring at him. Swords drawn.

"Mina, you don't suppose?" The male commented.

'Mina' didn't take her eyes off Link. "Th-the last one had to have died of old age already… there were only three… one died in the Calamity, the other shortly after. No males survive…"

"There's no possible way he's the female's grandson or something? I'd swear to Hylia and all three Golden Goddesses before I'd believe he wasn't a descendant."

"I suppose… but she disappeared off the face of Hyrule. Not even the extensive records recovered from the castle have allowed anyone to identify her or any offspring. For all we know, Mils, we could be her descendants."

Mils scoffed. "Why us and not this guy? He's practically a hairless Hylian Retriever!"

"I suppose only the Sheikah could truly identify him…" She fished a small game bird from her pocket, Link's undivided attention was all hers. "Here boy? It's a boy, right? I don't know if female Wolfbreds look… feminine or not."

"Chest is flat. I suppose you could take the shirt off and see if there's more than two nipples, but that sounds a bit dangerous."

"Probably doesn't matter. Here, boy!" Mina waved the deceased fowl around, all awkwardness was forgotten and Link trotted over. "Oh, he's not wearing anything we could attach a lead to…"

Without another word, Mils clicked a leash onto the cloak he was wearing and snapped it around Link's neck. A sound of questioning escaped him.

"Good boy!" Mina tossed the fowl, Link dug in once again. "Perhaps we can train him just like a regular dog. A Wolfbred would be very handy in this dangerous region."

Mils mounted his horse while Link snacked, before an idea suddenly entered his mind. "Maybe we could breed 'em. The Royal Family used to do that. I bet other travelers would appreciate having a feral companion."

"I'm not entirely sure that's… moral. First off, we'd have to breed him to Hylian women, and I'm not sure any woman worth herself would do that. Secondly, he's part Hylian at least. He may have enough emotion that doing such a thing would upset him." Mina scratched his head. After they had departed she periodically tossed Link some sort of meat to keep him from tugging away, especially when the Castle once again came into view.

Zelda, Zelda, Zelda, Zelda! Link stubbornly slipped his head out of the cloak and ran for the Malice-consumed ruins. His would-be captors were unable to catch his attention and he continued northbound in Central Hyrule. He laid down once to absorb the sun above, absorb this grass. There was something about grass that filled him with happiness.

"Sir, what are you doing here? The Guardians will get you for sure!"

"Hm?" His feral outburst seemed to have calmed.

"This place is a death wish! Please, at least go to a stable!"

Link knew that this world was new to him, so he followed this other man to a nearby stable. "I believe this young man is a lost wanderer," The other man began, "he was out in the middle of Hyrule Field."

Rhoam's words came back.

"I'm looking for… Ka-ka-ri-ko." It sounded familiar, but he was afraid of why.

"Well, my boy! You're going the wrong way!" He got Link set out on the right trail, although his burning questions made the trip feel so long. He reached a fork in the road. He followed the directions as best he could, being momentarily distracted by a giant talking… tree?

“You-You see me?” The tree leaned in closer.

Don’t cower, don’t snarl, and whatever you do, don’t bite the giant tree.

“Shaka! It’s been one hundred years since anyone could see me!” Link tried to sneak away while the giant tree, which was apparently named Hestu, rambled on about the last two Hylians that were able to see him. A male and a female, royalty. Unfortunately for him, the ‘could it be’ followed by the royal revelation was enough to get Link caught.

“Where’re you going? Come on! I need your help!”

And so Link was suckered into his first, of very very many, side tasks. Retrieval of red maracas from nearby monsters. It was simple enough, even with his lack of a weapon. The monster’s flesh was rather soft to tear into, and they were little things. Easily overcome.

It was immediately following their defeat that Link learned monster flesh was definitely not edible.

He was free to go after this, the only lingering request being that he search for the tree's friends who'd played a terrible prank on him. “If you ever come through Korok Forest, come say hi!” were his parting words. It took a while longer than planned, but the words "Kakariko Village" finally danced above his head.

These people here. They knew him. They knew him better than he knew himself. He felt relief, knowing that Zelda's savior wasn't completely gone. Even if he didn't know him, these Sheikah did, and he knew they would teach him all about himself until he finally reunited with the part of him that went to sleep in that Shrine so long ago. He clung to this as he clambered up the steps of the Sheikah Head Family's house, and slowly pushed the doors open.

"So… you're finally awake."

Edited - 04/14/2024

#loz botw #botw impa #zelda botw #botw opening #fanfiction #booksivewritten #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #mentioned zelda #wolfbred line #mentioned botw npcs #hestu #successors hfs #successors #hyrule's final stand #lore building #world building #tw blood

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doodle-do-wop · 2 years

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GALLAGHER GIRLS PROMPTOBER DAY 11 HOT COCO

Takes place many years after Gallagher

Anna stirred and watched the brown dissolve in the white, mixing in the churcing waters as the metal spoon clanged against the walls of the mug. She looked up and out the window at the fall eaves that dotted the lawns down the street, some raked, some falling in a thick coat, leaving no green to be seen at all. She leaned against the counter with her hip and her mind began to wander, keeping her distance but not enough to miss the soft fall of footsteps behind her and the rich smell of mint that fell upon her as arms wrapped around her middle.

Anna closed her eyes and leaned into Carl’s embrace, his strong arms held her steady, held her here, kept her home and away from the fresh scars of her most recent Op. His nose tickled her neck as he nuzzled his face into her shoulder and placed a few kisses. One hand stayed on her stomach as the other gently guided her hands to the counter so she could set down the mug she held.

She turned slightly to face him and he lifted his head a little, his bright hazel eyes caught the sunlight and Anna felt her breath catch. So many years of seeing those eyes in all types of light but she could never get over it. Her hand reached up to touch the side of his face, feeling the slight prickle of stubble under her fingertips and Carl closed his eyes, leaning into her hand and then he turned his face to kiss her palm.

Anna laughed and Carl rubbed his head into her hand next, blonde curls flying in every direction as her laughter filled the small kitchen. He popped up to his full height and they faced each other as he wrapped his arms around her, leaned down to pepper her in small sweet kisses.

“Hey,” He whispered into her skin before pressing another kiss into her cheek.

“Hey,” She whispered back breathlessly, her knees growing weak and her arms wrapped around his neck.

She had her eyes shut but she knew his hand was sneaking around her to try and grab the coco.

“It doesn’t have cinnamon.” She warned and opened her eyes as Carl groaned, pouting as he was caught red handed.

“Carl,” She giggled and gently tugged at his collar, he leaned down without complaint as she kissed his lips quickly. She felt his lips smile against hers as he kissed back before parting.

He pulled back and cupped her face in his warm hands and she leaned into his touch, blanketing his hand with hers though they were smaller in comparison. His eyes traced every curve and bump on her face and she watched the way the playful joy in his eyes turned serious as they grazed the bruise on her forehead.

In her defense, she wasn’t expecting to have a harmonica thrown at her though honestly, she should have at least blocked it.

“Carl,” She whispered softly and she watched his shoulders sag.

“I know,” He mumbled, he couldn't ask and she couldn’t tell him, no matter how much she wanted to. The first few years of their relationship once Anna graduated had been rough, she was always somewhere else around the globe and Carl stayed in Ohio, watching the town change right before his very eyes. She could never tell him where she went but she still told him of all the wonderful views of the sky that she could share. When they had gotten their first apartment together it got harder to keep the truth, work was never truly in short supply but it’s harder to lie to someone when they’re around to watch you come home with a sling around your neck.

The few months they spent, stuck in a limbo of unease, would stick with Anna forever, reminding her of their presence on long missions or when she received an injury she couldn’t think of a convincing story for. When they were engaged she finally told him what little truth her superiors allowed. They had checked Carl, combed through every year of his life, every breath he took. Knowing there were people, spies watching him because of her, it was the hardest thing she had ever had to go through. Having to see him as a speck on a monitor was a torture no blade could ever compare to.

Anna moved her hand away and stared down at the ring on her finger. It sent out small speckles of soft rainbow lights around them and Carl’s hand gently held hers. Their wedding day had agents undercover as guests and staff, some of them friends, others colleagues.

Husband and wife, a pair together til death would dare do them part but never could she tell him everything her heart and soul wished she could. To put him at such risk would be the last of her days.

“What’s that big brain of yours thinking?” He whispered and Anna took a deep breath.

“Everything,” She squeaked out. “Nothing.”

“Everything and nothing?” He questioned with two raised brows. Anna nodded and played with his fingers, turning his hand over and noticing how little his hands changed. They were tanned slightly from the sun, the little hairs on the backs of his fingers were hard to see and his crooked ring finger still had the scar from when he had crashed his dad’s car way back when he was first learning to drive.

Anna’s hands changed often. Almost every time she came back home there was a new scar or bruise. If she went somewhere full of sun her freckles were more prominent and if where she went was cold she came back slightly paler than before.

Carl snapped Anna out of her thoughts by bringing her hands to his lips, he kissed every scar he could and then moved onto the impossible task of kissing every freckle in sight.

He pulled away and opened a cabinet, grabbing a box of her favorite cookies and some more hot chocolate, happily taking the container of cinnamon from the rack and getting to work.

She brought her abandoned mug to her lips and watched him, sipping at the warm beverage as his eyes focused on the cinnamon, carefully tapping the glass so he wouldn’t spill too much in. She never understood what he liked so much about cinnamon. She knew his mother wasn’t too fond of it and his dad disliked anything sweeter than black coffee.

He wasn’t like Cammie who seemed to be physically attached to M&Ms, he could go without cinnamon sometimes but hot coco was always a must. Never in his life did he drink a cup without a little sprinkling in. Anna wasn’t crazy for the spice but she wasn’t exactly waiting her turn to dump any in her mug.

“Did you always like it?” She found herself asking and Carl looked up from his squatted position, tapping the glass again.

“Hm?”

“The cinnamon.” She clarified and Carl stood up, putting the lid back on the cinnamon and shrugged his shoulders.

“I guess so, yeah. My grandma used to make it with cinnamon all the time.” Carl said wistfully as his mind started to replay whatever old memories he held of dearly departed grandmother.

Anna’s birth mom never really had the chance to leave Anna with memories of cinnamon coated hot chocolate or pass down any recipes like fancy ginger cookies. Anna’s stepmother had been the one to fill in that role in her life, she passed down top secret family recipes more sacred than any NSA code she could ever retrieve. She taught her how to cook Anna’s favorite meals, how much spice was too much(though there was no such thing).

Wally had their mother’s appreciation for caramel while Anna seemed to have inherited her dad’s need for caffeine before any morning conversation could be had.

Anna paused before bringing her mug to her lips again and looked over at the electric kettle realizing with a sigh that she would have to put away the coffee for a while.

“Ann?” Carl’s voice drew her back and she looked up at him and his beautiful hazel eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

#anna fetterman #carl #Anna x Carl #Gallagher Girls #gallaghergirlspromptober

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strywoven · 9 months

Text

@inhumann has requested a story : he hoists their legs over broad shoulders, uncaring for the way they squirmed and whined beneath him. "lil doe... why ya actin' up like this? ain't this whatchu wanted?" a teasing smirk formed as he spoke and only grew in size as he dragged his lips across their inner thigh. "bet yer just soaked right now. been wantin' this to happen for the longest time. can't hide from me, I'm a demon little doe."

tilting his head to the side ever so slightly he parts his mouth and digs his sharp fangs into their supple flesh. sweet iron tang fills him with a rush of power and he moans against their skin. "'m gonna make ya scream my name." / :''') hi kaen marko came for your entire life

𝑼𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

This , a consequence of chasing after his affections for so long. Long have they been playing with one another , teasing at something MORE THAN THEY ARE , wherein the godling had come to believe Marko would n e v e r consider them as anything beyond a rare-blooded contract. Well , never say never , Kaen realizes with a fleeting , dazed wonder , splayed there on their back , watching him smirk up at them from between their legs— Such a turn of events , indeed , the tension between them at LONG LAST comes to its heated apex ; what a mess he’s making of them , and he has done barely anything at all … At least , not y e t . Though they know a certain promise in the eyes when they see it , they know the tone of w a n t when they hear it ( ah , as if looking in a mirror , for is this not the very same way his little doe has treated him since their contract began ? how rewarding it is to see the roles reversed ) .

Oh , gods alive , oh — ! They did not think this far ahead , the poor thing , so unfamiliar with intimacy , now being thrown so far out of their depth and overwhelmed by all that’s happening. His taunting them does little to help , and they can only think to try and g l a r e down at him , pinning their ears while smoke curls in dark , cindering wisps from their nose. Already their body is responding to him , ATTUNED TO HIM ; every touch , every whisper of breath to their fawny-flesh … Did we forget the unspoken part of his doe’s heritage ? A godling of SEX & FERTILITY . Their instinct knows what to do even before they do , their blood likely s w e e t e r , calling out to the demon , addictive for the pheromones spilling into their scent and draping across their flesh. Kaen always despised ( always feared ) this part of their nature – how hungry it was , how greedy – their father often described it as a BLOOMING , but for Kaen … It was an OVERGROWTH ; a raging inferno set in their gut that expanded and began to devour them , urging them to heed to temptation and desire.

… And what if they did ( if only the once ) ? Isn’t that what they wanted ? What they BOTH wanted ?

Kaen whimpers again when he bites into the thick swell of their inner thigh , the crystal of their antlers and stones flickering b r i g h t l y as their body jerks at the pain , at the pleasure that smooths the sensation. It won’t take much to make them weak , but – they think – they can make Marko WORK FOR IT just the same. Trembling though they are , Kaen props themself up , their heart racing , their mind hazed. Hand reaches out , gentle – at first – with scarred fingers sifting through black locks before seizing tresses TIGHT & YANKING . ❝ Y’re– y’re right. An’ ye’ve kept me waitin’ , ❞ They chide lightly , eyes burning in the dim of the room , smoke and cinder spilling out of their lips and twirling ‘round the rough r u m b l e of their words , ❝ Mo deamhan … ❞ My demon , Kaen calls him with no sore lack of affection , their legs hooking a little tighter about his shoulders , drawing him c l o s e r , ❝ Ah really ‘ope y’re not makin’ me empty promises t’night … ❞ They know he isn’t , but they want terribly to rile him up further , to see exactly HOW FAR he shall go.

#❧ ⸺ how can ( queue ) say there is no story here ? ❞#❧ ⸺ ch. kaen | answered ❞#❧ ⸺ ch. kaen | verse i: main ❞#inhumann #inhumann | marko #suggestive cw #let's play ... turbo really came for us in this ask and made me put up or shut up #sweating spongebob . jpeg #i was not prepared for this #but i loved it so much #i love these two sm

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slutforsilverfoxes · 2 years

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Beggin'

You woke to the sound of snoring, unsure if the offending noise was coming from your three year old Labrador or your thirty-five year old boyfriend. Not quite ready to open your eyes, you reached toward the source of the sound and were met with a wet kiss. Snuggling in closer to your four-legged son, you tried to shut the world out for just a few more minutes, Eddie sleepily smacking his lips and trying to do the same.

Over a year ago, the sweet lab had come into your practice with a GSW requiring an emergency procedure. Just over two hours of surgery and one blood transfusion later, he was recovering in the large dog ward and the Lieutenant Commander was sighing with relief on the other end of your phone call. His adoptive dad had been incredibly diligent about follow-up appointments to check on Eddie’s progress, more often than not sporting new stitches and scars himself that you and your female clients were quick to take note of. Three months post-op, you were pleased that the canine had made a full recovery and wouldn’t need to be seen until his next annual, barring any other health concerns that may pop up.

Curiously, Eddie had experienced a health concern every other week or so necessitating an office visit. His dad took him on a run, and now he may have a limp (X-rays and an orthopedic physical exam said otherwise). His dad was trying a new diet and Eddie didn’t seem to be interested in eating (He miraculously gobbled the food down at your office in typical lab fashion). His dad couldn’t find the partner for one of his socks, and maybe Eddie had accidentally ingested it? (No sock to be found in the dog’s tummy or subsequent GI tract). The next time the SEAL called your office, you worked up the courage to ask him if he’d like to pay for dinner the following Friday instead of another exam fee.

You kissed your wingman’s wet nose, petting his head as you asked if he was excited about Auntie Kono getting married today. His head tilted out of curiosity before he hopped off the bed, padding over to the balcony and searching the water for the telltale bobbing of his dad's body atop his surfboard. You joined Eddie on the balcony, spotting Steve about a mile out from the shore, and smiled, knowing that he would be back in soon and ready for his morning coffee.

Making your way downstairs, you popped a pod of dark roast into the overly fancy machine you had finally convinced Steve to indulge in. Stretching like a cat in the warm sunlight streaming in, you breathed in the familiar salty smell of home and smiled to yourself. Despite having moved in eight months ago, you were still in awe of just how lucky you were to live in such a beautiful state, in such a beautiful house, with such a beautiful man.

The coffee machine gurgled at you to signal it was almost done, and you took out the butter from your fridge. You had certainly been skeptical of the concept at first, but the taste had surprisingly grown on you much to Danny’s chagrin.

You stepped off the porch with Steve’s coffee in hand, curling your toes in the warm sand and stopping short at the sound of another woman’s voice coyly calling out, “Hey, sailor.”

Judging by the way your boyfriend's eyes lit up and a broad smile spread across his face at the sight of her casually leaning against a palm tree outside your house, you had no doubt in your mind that this must be the infamous Lieutenant Catherine Rollins.

He dropped his board haphazardly in the sand, running to pick her up in a hug as she squealed out a protest about his dripping wet body.

Feeling like a stranger in your own home, you quickly turned to give them privacy, scurrying back inside and busying yourself with getting ready for the day ahead of you. Eddie watched you curiously from his spot on the balcony as you quickly shoved some slippers and your robe into a bag, then tossed the garment bag with your maid of honor dress onto the bed. You needed to get out of the house as soon as possible. You tugged Steve's old Navy bootcamp shirt over your head, tossing it into the nearby hamper and angrily swiping at your eyes. The thing was, you weren’t upset with Steve.

You were disappointed in yourself.

You prided yourself on your empathy and your ability to read people; how could you not see what was right in front of you? You should’ve known that you were merely a placeholder by the way Steve talked about Catherine- Cath.

The taste of salt on your lips brought you out of your spiral, and you brushed your hands over your cheeks, grateful that the makeup artist's expertise would hide the evidence of your emotion. Resolving that you wouldn’t shed another tear over the inevitable and untimely end of your relationship, you quickly got dressed and gathered what Eddie would need to stay at your friend's place for the day, noting that the house was still empty, the pair still down on the beach. You scribbled down a note about Kono needing help getting ready, got Eddie and his belongings into the car, and made your escape from the suffocating silence.

___

Steve discarded his wet towel on the porch by the door, making a mental note to take care of it later before you could spot it. Being in the Navy had instilled in him the importance of organization and cleanliness, but you were on another level.

“Baby?” he called out, ushering Catherine inside and listening for your reply but receiving only silence in return.

"Eddie? Buddy?" Steve's face fell into an uncharacteristic frown at the lack of response. Catherine moved past him into the living room and took stock of the vast improvement in decorations, including a family photo on the mantel featuring the lab who was nowhere to be found. A slip of white paper on the table by the front door where keys were kept caught her attention, and she took it back to Steve. “She went to help Kono,” Catherine read off the note, placing it in his hand. She didn’t miss the way his frown deepened, consternation spreading across his handsome features.

“I didn’t even see her this morning,” he muttered sadly, reading and then rereading your cursive scrawl. Kono asked me to come over earlier than planned. Love you. The writing was devoid of your usual warmth and ebullience, the “i” even dotted plainly as opposed to the usual heart that always had him breaking out into a goofy grin because yeah, out of everyone in the world, you loved him.

Something was very wrong.

___

You painstakingly avoided Steve’s attempts to contact you throughout the morning.

8:03am You're definitely getting MOH of the Year for such an early start

8:05am Missed my goodbye kiss this morning :(

8:39am Danno and I will be heading over in an hour or so. Let me know if you girls need anything

9:27am I know you're busy, but are you okay?

9:43am Y/N :(

Sighing, you clicked the lock button on your phone and tossed it into your bag, sitting back and pressing the heels of your hands against your bloodshot eyes. The rational part of your brain knew that simply ignoring your boyfriend was unfair and, quite frankly, childish, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain your actions right now. He hadn’t even mentioned Catherine in any of those texts. Was he just going to pretend that she wasn’t back here, back on the island, back in your home, back in his arms?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Kono mumbled softly, glancing at you in her peripheral vision after the hair stylist chastised her for trying to turn her head.

"Just that you look beautiful already," you smiled back, handing her a mimosa to enjoy as she got dolled up.

"Y/N," she huffed, "I know you. What's wrong?"

"Just thinking about Steve," you answered somewhat honestly. "But he doesn't matter because today is about my gorgeous best friend and her gorgeous man," you swooned, dramatically falling into the chair beside her.

"Speaking of Steve and my gorgeous man," she rolled her eyes, but you didn't miss the blush that rose to her cheeks at the mention of Adam, "they'd better start getting ready soon or I'm gonna have to send my fierce attack dog over there."

You let out a playful bark in response, making her laugh and subsequently getting a stern glance from her stylist. "I'll shut up now," you giggled, hands raised defensively, settling back into your chair and trying to ignore the growing knot in your stomach.

___

Steve kept stealing glances at his phone, longing for a reply from you to pop up. Yours and Eddie’s equally happy faces on his lock screen continued to smile back at him, uncovered, taunting.

“Hey babe,” Danny popped his head into the groomsmen's suite, quickly taking note of the slight downward tilt of his partner’s mouth. “What’s with the-” Danny’s index finger circled in front of his own face.

“Y/N won’t answer me.” Steve pouted like a kid, emitting a huff as he struggled to fit his cufflink into the offending buttonhole.

“Heaven forbid the Maid of Honor not have time to text you back!” Danny mocked, rolling his eyes. “Now fix that ugly mug and put a pretty smile on, our friends are getting married today.”

Steve placed his hand in Danny's outstretched one so he could assist with the correct placement of the cufflink, a custom made silver S partnered with an M that you'd gotten him for his birthday. “I think it may have something to do with Cath being back.”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up. “Catherine’s back? She call you?”

Shaking his head, Steve elaborated, “No, she came by our house this morning to surprise me. We talked for a while, got to catch up. I wanted to introduce Y/N but she was gone by the time we got inside.”

“Let me get this straight,” Danny held up one finger to pause for dramatic effect. “Your ex comes to your house, unannounced, after almost two years of being away, and then your girlfriend won’t answer your texts and she left the house without telling you.”

“Yeah,” Steve grunted out by way of response, unzipping the garment bag that housed his tuxedo jacket. “Am I missing something?”

“You, my friend,” the blonde enunciated, index fingers and thumbs pinched together in his classic Danny style, “are an idiot.”

“Where are you going?” Steve called to his retreating form as Danny walked to the door, mission oriented.

“To go fix your mistake, you hopeless Neanderthal.”

___

“Knock knock.”

You raised your head at the sound of Danny’s voice, your eyebrows furrowing together at his reflection in the mirror ushering you into the hallway.

“We’re busy, Danno,” you tried to shoo him away, but the stylist doing your hair sold you out, announcing that she was actually finished with your updo.

After thanking her, you reluctantly rose from the comfy chair and headed toward the hallway between the bridal suite and the groom’s, the walk to Danny feeling like approaching the gallows. Sighing, you leaned against the thick doorframe. “Steve send you to talk to me?” you queried softly, wanting Kono to assume this conversation was about wedding logistics and not, presumably, your boyfriend’s effort to amend for his earlier lapse of judgement.

"Why does Steve have to send me, huh? Maybe I just wanted to talk to you, my lovely, warm, affectionate, compassionate friend. Has anyone told you that you look absolutely beautiful today and-"

"Danny," you cut off his rambling.

He gave a quick shake of his head and his mouth pulled into a tight line. "I heard a certain someone's back and figured you could use a friend given that your best friend is currently-" He waved his hand in Kono's direction, and you turned to see her makeup artist applying a layer of foundation.

You offered him a small smile, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "I'm alright. I can't worry about Steve today, y'know? It's Kono and Adam's day."

He fixed his baby blues on you sternly, calling you on your bullshit without opening his mouth.

"What do you want me to say, Danny?" you sighed, casting your eyes downward to avoid his gaze.

"I want you to tell me how you're feeling."

"You want me to be honest?"

"That's generally the idea."

You huffed out a breath of air with a playful eye roll, grateful for his ability to make you crack a smile even when you felt at your lowest. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

He raised an eyebrow, "Elaborate."

"I just-" You closed your eyes, suddenly feeling silly and small and unwilling to say the words out loud. "I feel like I'm in a pathetic version of 'Jolene'. Like, I'm begging you not to take my man except it's actually my man who's gonna leave me for you."

"Y/N," Danny's hands came up to cup your cheeks, lifting your head up. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, trying and failing to stop the tears from leaking out. "He's not gonna do... that..."

Your eyes flew open at the hesitation in Danny's voice, watching in disbelief as your tuxedo-clad boyfriend all but ran out the front door of the venue and hopped into a blue Corvette.

"That her car?" you asked softly with one eyebrow quirked upward, everything in your voice mocking I told you so.

"It's a work thing," the blonde tried desperately to convince you and you nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

"I'll see you later, Danno," you started closing the door to the bridal suite as he protested.

"Y/N, wait-"

"I said I'll see you later." The door clicked shut with a sense of finality, and you let out a deep breath before turning back to your best friend. "Another mimosa?"

___

Just under two hours later, Kono and Adam had finished their "first look" and taken some stunning photos in the gardens around the venue. In front of you, guests were seated in rows of white wicker chairs facing the simple arch adorned with orange blossoms and yellow hibiscuses. You smiled from your rightful spot next to Kono, adjusting her lei and making sure it was sitting comfortably around her neck.

"You are literally the most beautiful bride I've ever seen," you gushed, resisting the urge to cry.

"Oh Y/N," she sighed happily. Her thousand-watt smile melted into a frown as she squinted her eyes at you- no, beyond you.

Your head whipped around to assess whatever was upsetting your best friend, and following her sight line you gritted out, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Who but your boyfriend was strutting back to the venue, a beautiful brunette in a knee length navy blue dress on his arm.

Kono nudged you gently and inclined her head towards them. "Go," she whispered. "We're still waiting for Chin to get the rings."

You ran as daintily as you could in the high heels you'd worn to match your boyfriend's tall stature, smiling and waving at the few guests milling about out of their seats, waiting for the ceremony to begin. You reached Steve and Catherine, digging your nails into his forearm and grateful that those same stupid heels placed you at the perfect height to hiss in his ear, "There better've been a nuclear bomb threatening to kill us all for you to show up late with her." You hated how your voice turned downright venomous with the last two words, but that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach all day had hardened into a solid rock at the sight of them showing up together.

Catherine graciously slid her arm out from Steve's on his opposite side as Steve grasped your hand in a gentle plea to retract your talons, his eyes softening as he explained, "Not a bomb, but one of Wo Fat's former associates."

Excitement overrode your anger within seconds. "Really? Did you get them?"

"Yeah," his face broke into a wide grin. "He's waiting in interrogation at the Palace. We'll deal with him lat-"

"Y/N?" Catherine spoke up, your name on her lips making you want to jab your ridiculously long acrylic nails into your eyeballs. God, you felt like a jealous teenage girl and it made your skin crawl. "Kono's ready for you."

Putting a thousand and one questions and feelings aside, you shot Steve a look that said We'll talk about this later. He and Catherine made their way to two open seats and you returned to your best friend with a dazzling smile. Today was her day. Your thick-skulled boyfriend could wait.

___

"Introducing the new Mr. and Mrs. Noshimuri!"

The MC's voice boomed out through the reception hall coupled with the wedding party's raucous cheers as the newlyweds emerged from the bridal suite, hand-in-hand, twin smiles on their faces that lit up the room. Your heart felt like it would nearly burst at the sight of their sheer elation from being together, Adam delicately guiding Kono to the center of the floor as Etta James crooned about her love coming along.

Halfway through the song, the MC asked for couples to join the happy pair in celebrating their love on the dance floor and you felt Steve's knuckles brush along your jaw in a silent question. Biting back a snarky comment to save face for the bride and groom's sake, you placed your hand in his and let him lead you out to join your friends.

One hand glided down your body coming to rest on your hip as the other engulfed your own. "Interesting choice," you noted as he began leading you back and forth in a simple two-step and sway.

"Their song?"

"Your partner," you quipped through a fake smile.

"Y/N," your name fell from his lips in a sigh as he pulled you tighter against him. "I fucked up and I know it. I should have told you earlier."

You pulled back to quirk an eyebrow up at him. "Told me what?" You twirled past the new husband and wife duo, flashing them a smile and blowing a kiss over Steve's shoulder at your best friend. Trailing your hand up your boyfriend's arm and over his broad shoulder, you let it settle on his neck, nails lightly scratching the short hairs at the base of his skull in a quiet threat, as if you were about to scruff him like a cat at work if his response was unsatisfactory. "Told me what, Steven?"

"I've been in touch with Cath for a few months now."

Your mouth fell open as you sucked in a quick gust of air, closing it moments after and replacing your smile to keep up the facade.

"I've been working with Cath for a few months," he amended, reading the shock and hurt that flashed in your eyes. "She's with the CIA now and we've been tracking the guy who we finally caught today."

"So you- oh." Evidently your mouth had formed words before your brain was ready to send a coherent message. A glimmer of relief sparked in you that he'd been talking to her for months but loving you all the while. Suddenly you felt silly for your antics throughout the day, reading too much into their body language and prior history and not giving him a chance to explain.

Until you saw that stupid smirk on his face.

"Y/N, my love," he taunted, "were you jealous?"

"Oh, see, now you just sound like a dick," you huffed with a roll of your eyes, stepping away from your dance partner as the song ended and turning to cheer on your newlywed friends.

He nudged you with his elbow as he clapped alongside you. "It's cute, baby."

"I'll show you cute, Steven," you growled under your breath, plan already formulating in your head.

"What was that?"

"I said I'm getting a drink," you smiled innocently at your boyfriend before making your way to the open bar.

You took a celebratory shot with your best friend, and then with your best friend’s new husband, and then with your boyfriend’s partner who, bless his heart, managed to put up with the same bullshit day in and day out as you did.

“Did you know?” you questioned the blonde, your face puckering as you sucked on a lime.

“About?” Danny slid you a double vodka sour, your go-to drink, which you gratefully sucked down through the straw in the hopes of escaping the tequila setting a small fire in your throat.

“Steve and Catherine working this case together. Catherine being in the CIA.”

“He doesn’t even let me drive my own car, babe, you think he tells me about secret side cases he’s got going on?”

“Control freak,” you nodded in acquiescence, watching the man in question chatting and laughing it up with some of Adam’s friends. He looked around the room seemingly in search of you, shooting you and Danny a big grin when he caught sight of the two of you by the bar together. On any other day, at any other moment, that smile would’ve had you melting where you stood, but right now you’d racked up hurt and anger and a few too many alcoholic beverages to fall under his spell. Instead, you finished off your drink and placed the glass on the bar top with a resounding thud before making your way over to your man.

“Lieutenant Commander,” you purred, smoothing your hands over his chest and righting his bow tie, “wanna dance?”

He followed you out onto the dance floor like a lamb to the slaughter and you laughed to yourself. Easy.

You turned around so your back was flush with his chest, his hands coming to rest on your hips as the music shifted to suit the younger crowd and the real reception began.

“I take it this means I’m forgiven?” Steve murmured in your ear before pressing his lips to the sensitive spot behind it. He kissed a path down your neck and you let your head fall back against his shoulder, granting him access to more of your skin in your halter dress and grateful for the dim lighting of the post-wedding celebration.

“How can I stay mad when you look like that, hm?” You turned in his arms and let your fingers ghost over his abdomen, resisting the urge to bunch up the fabric in your hand and rip it off of him. You wanted to stick to your plan, you wanted to rile him up and make him pay for the mind games today, but the alcohol and lust flowing through your veins was making it hard to focus. “You know what seeing you in a tux does to me, it’s like having my own personal Bond.”

He chuckled appreciatively in response and shifted his hand to the small of your back so he could pull you more tightly against him. You thanked your lucky stars that the music was at an ear-shattering, brain-jostling level, because the sound that came out of you when you felt his hard length against your belly was positively feral. The surrounding partygoers had been spared from hearing you, but your boyfriend’s eyes flashed with dominance, his ability to so easily break your resolve sending another wave of heat through him.

Taking your hand, he hurried you off the dance floor in the direction of the adjacent groomsmen’s suite, craning his neck in both directions to ensure the coast was clear and then all but shoving you inside the room. You were on him before he could close the door, his fingers fumbling with the lock behind him as you met in a heated battle of lips and teeth and tongues.

Normally, you would give in almost immediately and allow Steve to ravage your mouth, your body, your very soul. But he’d made the mistake of bringing you into this room where empty garment bags were haphazardly strewn on the floor, reminding you that you had come to your best friend’s wedding alone, not on his arm as you should’ve been, because the man currently mapping out the sensitive spots along the roof of your mouth had been preoccupied with his ex-girlfriend. And yes, the rational part of you now knew that it was for work and Steve hadn’t meant to hurt you by withholding his reasoning from you, but the rational part of you had checked out when that first drop of tequila had hit your tongue.

You were going to make Steve McGarrett remember that, no matter his bravado, his cocky attitude, his masterful control of your body, he belonged to you.

“Enough,” you growled out against his mouth, using every ounce of your resolve to tug on his short hair eliciting a gasp from him followed by a questioning look. “The rest of the world may call you 'Commander', but I’m in charge tonight, McGarrett. Do you understand?”

“That’s cute, angel, but-”

You gripped his chiseled jaw in your hand, thumb pressing into his cheek as you tugged his face toward yours in a move that resembled one of his signatures with you. You spoke slowly and enunciated every syllable, repeating, “Do. You. Understand?”

He nodded, dumbstruck at your show of dominance. Gone was his normally submissive plaything, replaced by a powerful goddess who had him equal parts enraged and enraptured.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” you cooed, using his favorite phrase against him as your thumb lazily stroked over his stubble.

“I understand,” he mumbled, deferential to you for perhaps the first time in your relationship. The gleam in your eyes as he succumbed to you indicated it wouldn’t be the last.

A catlike grin spread across your face as you registered that he was playing along despite being able to easily overpower you. You had thought you’d be bent over his knee by now for daring to speak to him like that, but his beautiful steel blue eyes were trained on your every move, his pupils blown wide with lust and desperation to please you.

“Come,” you tugged on the bow tie around his neck and he obediently followed you to the vanity area where you promptly hopped onto the counter. “On your knees.”

To your delight, he dropped to his knees between your parted legs and you resisted the urge to moan at the sight. Small pants of air fell past his kiss bitten lips as he looked up at you, awaiting your next command.

You closed your eyes and hummed in delight as you carded your hand through his tousled hair, scratching your nails along his scalp and eliciting such a guttural groan from him that liquid heat pooled between your thighs and your face and neck flushed immediately. “Please.”

Your eyes shot open in surprise. “Did you just beg?”

“Y/N,” his hands fisted at his sides as he spoke your name through gritted teeth.

“Okay, baby,” you took pity on him, knowing how frustrating it was when he would deny you from touching him to the point of tears. “I want you to take my panties off using just your mouth. If you use your hands, we start over. Got it?”

He licked his lips and nodded, obediently placing his hands behind his back and bending down to kiss your ankle. He made his way up the inside of your leg, the feeling of his rough stubble against your soft skin making you delirious with pleasure. He placed a delicate kiss over the wet spot on the lacy fabric of your lingerie and you involuntarily rocked your hips forward, the sound of his moan drowning out your own.

“Stand up. Please.” His voice was hoarse with arousal and you had half a mind to ditch this whole plan altogether and just ride him on the couch. But then his head was dipping beneath your dress and his teeth were grazing your hipbone and you had never felt so fucking powerful.

He grasped the skimpy material between his teeth and tugged it down over the curve of your ass before shifting to the neglected side. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” you breathed out, regretting the strict rule to your game because he was, after all, a Navy man who was nothing if not regimented.

You bunched up your dress and his face emerged with a cheeky little grin before turning into a demure smile. “Just doing what you asked, princess.”

“Shut up,” you snapped back, hooking your thumbs into your panties and pushing them down the remaining length of your legs. You sat back on the counter and beckoned him forward. “Now be a good boy and make me cum so I forgive you for all the dumb shit you pulled today.”

He wiggled his fingers with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Steve, you can use your hands now.”

And that was all the permission he needed, diving between your legs and lapping at your folds. His nose nuzzled against your clit as his tongue performed its ministrations, in and out, back and forth, side to side, hitting your most sensitive spots methodically like he’d mapped them out during a recon mission.

A symphony of wanton moans flew out of your mouth as he expertly worked your body, your fingers tugging on his hair as his fingers joined his tongue. In a desperate attempt to regain the upper hand, you flung your heel off to the side and ran your foot over his hard length, causing him to groan out an unintelligible string of curses against your core.

You yanked his head back, and he looked up at you, panting, the bottom half of his face shiny with your arousal. “What?” he asked incredulously.

You feigned a frown, your face equally flushed and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “I taught you better than to talk with a full mouth, Steven.”

His eyes fluttered shut as a strangled moan escaped his lips and your resolve shattered. You joined him on the floor and met him in a heated kiss, the heady taste of your juices mixed with the whiskey he’d enjoyed earlier making your head swim.

He growled out, “Will you let me fuck you now?” and all you could do was nod dumbly, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle and desperate to get your mouth, your hands, your aching pussy on his cock.

You finally got the offending accessory off, unzipping his pants and freeing his rock hard length from its confines. Whining at the mere sight of him, you bent down and licked along the underside of his beautiful cock, savoring his taste and the way his fingers threaded in your hair.

Your boyfriend suddenly clamped down on your brunette locks, sharply tugging you off him and causing you to cry out in shock. “Done with your little game, hm?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mewled pathetically, slipping back into your submissive role in an instant.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you offered more hesitantly, afraid that he would send you back out into the party without fucking you as punishment.

He crooked one long finger at you, beckoning you forward until his hot breath was ghosting over your face. “I did, too,” he whispered, a quiet promise between the two of you that it would happen again.

“Oh fuck- Steve!” Your moan of pleasure from his confession devolved into a mantra of his name as he easily lifted you up and brought you down on his cock.

You never ceased to be amazed by his sheer power, mesmerized by the sight of his strong thighs flexing with each thrust and the way his entire length was disappearing inside of you. “That’s my girl,” he praised, tracking your gaze down to where your lust blown pupils studied your bodies intimately connecting.

You brought your hands up to cup his cheeks, looking up to find his eyes already locked on yours. “Mine,” you sighed out reverently.

“Yours,” he mumbled against your lips, meeting you in a passionate kiss and swallowing your moans as they reached a fever pitch, stars exploding behind your eyes as an earth-shattering orgasm rolled through your body.

Steve’s hips stuttered at the feeling of you clenched around him and he followed shortly after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own orgasm. You opened your eyes blearily, meeting his blissful smile with one of your own as the two of you came down from your shared high.

“So now am I forgiven?”

You hummed in response, following up with “Jury’s still out on that one, McGarrett.”

He shifted his hips, effectively fucking up into you, and you cried out indignantly.

“Sorry, baby,” he apologized, his smug grin conveying that he was anything but.

You peeled yourself off his sticky body, grimacing at the lewd sound of him slipping out of you. Steve tucked himself and his dress shirt back into his pants as you retrieved your discarded panties from the floor and swiped at the smudged wings of your eyeliner. “Think they’ll notice we were gone for so long?” you asked with a giggle as you unlocked the door.

“It’s a wedding, babe,” he assured you, “everyone’s too happy and/or drunk to care.”

The two of you crept out of the suite, quickly being swept up into the cacophony of the ongoing reception. You made your way back over to the bar, hoping that your friends hadn’t missed your presence and would accept that the sheen of sweat on your bodies was from innocently dancing the night away.

“So,” Danny swooped in as you requested a glass of water from the bartender, “you two kiss and make up?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Daniel,” you muttered around your straw, the cold drink coupled with the previous hour’s activities helping you to gradually sober up.

“Funny, cause I remember Steve having a belt on earlier.”

Your guilty eyes immediately shot to your boyfriend’s waist and you spotted the glint of metal in the center. “Dammit, Danno,” you groaned at his clever trick.

He grinned in response before getting serious. “He’d better not forget how good he’s got it.”

“Trust me,” you smiled, catching Steve’s eye from across the room and earning yourself a wink, “I won’t let him.”

#steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett x reader #hawaii five 0 imagine #steve mcgarrett smut #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett x you #steve mcgarrett x female reader

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angstyclowns · 2 years

Note

What about yandere alpha Shigaraki where the reader meant to send him a text telling him she was going out but the text never sent so he thinks she ran away when she literally just went to like a park or something but he's all angry when she returns back to the hideout

God what tf do I even write on here- Are ya'll even still there?

Anywhore theres a wordcount limit now wtf

TW: Yandere behavior, unhealthy power dynamics and relationships, nothing OP recommends or condones,

Yandere! Alpha! Tomura Shigaraki X Omega! Reader

Okie dokie-- first off, this man is so goddamn fine. Like what you doing out here with all that ass

*Lip bite*

Sorry, as you can see, my sense of humor has not gotten better. Now you all have to suffer with it. :) also, my old writing was cringe as hell, but here we are yet again.

See, Tomura to me, he demands obedience in every aspect of his life.

His underlings know better than to cross him, the original members of the LOV know better, everyone knows that his word is law, only a back seat to AFO himself .

When he goes about choosing an omega, I assume their someone whose already a meek and malleable little thing. Beaten down by the world over and over again.

Maybe your weeks away from eviction after your dog died and your mother is trying to get you to pay for your pregnant sister's prenatal care. I don't know. But your tired.

And your probably one harsh shove away from breaking down in the middle of the street.

Well, Shigaraki likes shoving so he's prolly the one who does it. It's a simple tap, you barely stagger, as right now he's just aiming to be a menace to society, not an actual threat.

But the way you freeze, and with how quickly your scent plummets, one would think he killed your pup.

He pauses, watching as your head bows and tears drip down your pretty round cheeks.

And- oh no.

He's got to have you.

the curve of your nose and the arch of your brows meld your facial features oh so nicely. The curve of your neck and shoulders make him ache to know how it would feel to drag his canines along the silk of your skin, to feel the assortment of scars, moles, goosebumps, anything that might appear.

He wants it all. And Tomura Shigaraki gets what he wants.

So, after a minor surprise date that only he knew about and a slight adjustment period where he might've had to teach you the ropes, all was good!

Nowhere to live? Look at Re-Destro's kind gesture of gifting Shigaraki a house for him and his omega!

Your dog died? Well, you don't need them for companionship, you have him now!

You mother is making you pay for your pregnant sister's prenatal? You don't have a sister anymore why keep in contact with them when it brings you nothing but stress? You have him. You don't need anything or anyone else. Don't you get that?

Eventually, you find solace in the insanity life you've cultivated with Tomura. He begins to trust you, which is such a heavy thing in his line of work. You don't want to break that trust, do you?

Wanna sit in on a meeting like the pretty little mindless arm candy you are? His lap is always a nice seat.

Although he prefers you on his face- but that's another story-

Want to go sit in the yard and do whichever craft has your attention lately? Don't mind the cameras Send him a text and he's sure it's fine.

Wanna go on a walk to the park? Text him and let him know-- which is exactly what you did. But, as you'll soon learn the hard way, you should always double check to make sure your message sent.

Bc it hadn't :)

And Shigaraki was none the wiser of where you were! Lucky you!

Now, when Tomura came home he was fully expecting to have his arms full of needy omega, whining and chirping for his attention while he acted like he didn't like it.

It was a game, a balancing act, to give you the smallest inch and take the mile for himself.

Its how he kept you leashed nice and tight.

But he didn't have that.

He had an empty house, echoing his chirps back to him. At first, he was reasonable. Maybe you fell asleep in your nest. You had done that before.

But your nest was bare.

Now he was beginning to grow angry. He checked his phone, maybe he missed a text?

Nope. Now he was pissed.

Where was his omega? Did you think you could actually get anywhere without him?

Where would you go? You had nothing without him. NOTHING.

He swore you knew where you belonged but evidently not.

Not that he cared. He fancied himself quite the teacher.

when you stepped through the door, you barely had the chance to plead your case.

Shigaraki demanded obedience in every aspect of his life, and you would understand that.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia oc #my hero acadamia #alpha tomura shigaraki x omega reader #alpha tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha/beta/omega #trixx writes #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader

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sashi-ya · 3 years

Note

So I finally found someone else that LOVES Rosi~ Can i ask Dad!Corazon?

So they (Y/n and Corazon) haven't got time for theirselves after their baby is born. So one night Cora can't take it anymore and they do it.

If I can add kinks: mommy kink, lactation kink (he sucks the life out of your mommy milkers that night), breeding kink 😁?

THANK YOU

Hiii baby!! yesterday I saw I wasn’t following you, and I was so sure I was T-T. I’m so sorry ♥ Of course we are moots now 💖 By the way, I really love this idea, omg!! I can see exactly why these kinks fit him so well, I mean he has always had that “parent” like attitude. I hope you enjoy this OS and you don’t mind me including little Law (7 y/o) into their lives as their adoptive child for this AU ♥ Thank u for requesting such a good idea, enjoy! 💖 ~

NSFW ~ Dad! Donquixote Rosinante x F! Reader ~ Feed Me, Mommy ~

TW: NSFW. Lactation kink, mommy dom, breeding, vaginal sex, masturbation. Mentions of pregnancy. Fluff at the end ♥

A/N: This AU is still in OP world. Law is 7 y/o and lives with them after everything went well for him and Rosinante. Little Law wanted you to name the newborn Lamy because of his sister ♥

WC: 1.9K

Since Lamy was born, Rosinante has become less prone to accidents -at least with her in his arms-, and the both of you were completely doomed into taking care of the new-born. Restless nights until the little baby got used to sleeping in her crib, and baby bottles scattered all around the house. Plus, dealing with Little Law’s tantrums - he got a little jealous since their parents had to spend a little more time with the baby and not every day with him, but he is still a lovely son.

You were exhausted and after you put the baby to sleep, and Law was almost dragged to his own bedroom by Rosinante you flop onto the sofa and turn on the tv. You hear some noises upstairs, but you think it was simply Law and Rosinante’s cute fights before bed.

Suddenly you hear your elder child shout “CORA-SAN!!”. You run upstairs, shaking the exhaustion off, and discover your husband lying on the ground of the hallway laughing his ass off and Law trying to help him with a little nasal haemorrhage he was having.

“Babe, what happened?” you ask, running to them. “He fell, as always” says the little brat with a sour tone. “Ok, come here Rosi, let’s wash that out. Does it hurt?” you tell him, helping him to stand up, but due to him being so fucking tall and clumsy you end up falling over his chest. Your swollen breasts pressed over him makes his laughing suddenly stop. Law, who has always been a super intelligent boy despite being so little, runs to his room saying things such as “eww you two are disgusting. I hate love!”.

Rosinante’s big hands travel up and down your back, while he gets his eyes fixed on yours. You try to stand up, but he doesn’t allow it. He smiles at you, and not in the cute way anyone else knows. A special smile, a wicked smile, a sexy smile you only saw. You sense a growing hard rock bulge on your lower stomach as he presses your body against his, holding you real tight. Suddenly your insides realize how much they have missed the touch of that man…

“If we were alone, I would take you right here, mommy” he whispers. Your core feels fancy at such direct confession, but he is right, the kids… “Shh babe” you laugh nervously, “Let’s go wash your nose, you are bleeding”. “Fine…” he says and the both of you head to your room’s bathroom.

Rosinante gets rid of his blood stained shirt, exposing his perfect lean body. Several scars garnish his skin, scars you have kissed so many times, wounds that speak about his past, marks that make him hotter than any other man in the whole world.

Watching his reflection on the mirror, how he washes his face and some drops of water fall over his chest, is killing you. You try to cool down by folding the baby's clothes over the bed, but your eyes want to, and come back to his image. You worship his wide back, a back that has been scratched so many times by you before.

He dries his face with the towel, ruffling his hair as he does so. Once he fixes his gaze again on the mirror, he notices you are staring at the reflection. Turning his face to you, he smiles so warmly, but you don’t really care about it. You are lost on his wide chest, the V that his lower abs form and how the grey pants he is using hang so nicely from his hip bones.

“Oi, darling?” he tells you softly laughing, pulling you off from the reverie you were in while thinking of his body. You blink a few times and tell him, “Y-yes, honey?”. “What were you thinking about, huh?” he asks. “Uhm, nothing…” you lie. He laughs once again and approaches you, grabbing you suddenly from your waist. Of course, he lifts you up so you could be at his height.

Your noses pressing, warm breathing into each other’s mouths, crimson eyes fixed on yours. You can feel his skin against yours, aching because of the neglected need of fucking you for so long. “Mommy, when are you going to take care of me?” he asks you, softly. Your heart beats faster and shivers that end up on your core like stings of pleasure. “Uhm, babe… the kids…” you say, but you regret that instantly, I mean the kids were asleep already…

“Mommy, the kids are asleep… plus…” he snaps his fingers, and an almost invisible film dome surrounds you. Suddenly, silence. And you know he has used his “silento” spell. Sometimes Law tells him it is not useful at all, but oh boy when he gets older, he will understand why it’s a wonderful power.

You bite your lips and that’s enough for him to throw you to the bed and pounce into you. “I missed you, mommy”, Rosinante says while his lips wander all around your neck. Desperate biting, suffocated kisses, hands taking your pyjamas off. Once you are free from clothes, he kisses you so erotically, tongues curling around the other, wet making out session that slowly takes you to heaven.

“Mommy, I want you to feed me” he says with your lips still pressed, and you know exactly what he means. Before Lamy was born, you two had a very special relationship in bed. You were his mommy, and he was your daddy. Both of you took turns to dominate the other, and he didn’t forget about it. You loved this dynamic, and he did too.

“Are you… are you sure, babe? I mean they have milk for real this time” you say pointing at your breasts. “That’s exactly what I said, I want to be fed by you” he answers back, already reaching for your nipples. “Then lay for me like a good boy” you say, already aroused by the idea of your sweet product being sucked out by him. “Yes, mommy” he says, and after a little tripping over the bed that causes you to laugh, he lays over your lap facing his head to your chest.

His mouth reaches for your right nipple, first kissing it softly, and then licking the very point of it, making you squirm in pleasure. And then, he starts sucking, slowly, expectant to taste those little white drops. Your right hand caresses his chest in circular motions, while your left one brushes his abundant blond hair. He delightfully drinks what your breasts have to give with dedication.

“Mommy it’s so sweet” he says while he keeps sucking. “Is it baby? well, drink it all up” you tell him gasping in awe of how wonderful his mouth makes your swollen breasts feel. Rosinante’s face shows pure delight, he is getting harder than ever. Your hand reaches for his aching member and plays with the tip of it, as he releases the pressure of your breasts. He has stopped swallowing, just to fill his mouth with milk. Your hand already stroking his shaft makes him moan, and you watch as the sweet white liquid falls from the corners of his mouth into his wide neck. An image so unexpected to be so hot, but yet so arousing it makes you cross your legs to put pressure to your already pulsating clit.

He reaches for the other nipple, nibbling so deliciously while he milks the other tit with his hand. You moan because even if the pressure on your tits was slowly decreasing, it was building up on your groin. You can’t take it anymore, you need him to fuck you, right now.

“Baby, fuck me” you command. “Yes mommy, but can I still drink your sweet milk? he asks, acting so innocent, but looking at you with pure lust. “Yes, baby. Come on, fuck mommy”. Corazón stands up and quickly spreads your legs with his hands. Legs that were already trembling. Milk still squirting from your overstimulated nipples. His thumb plays with your arousal. “Mommy, you are so so wet” he says. “Mommy is wet because of you, baby” you tell him.

Rosinante takes off his pants completely, letting you admire his ten inches, wondering how you could take this man all deep inside you without any complaint. This time you don’t even need to be dilated; your entrance waits for him with pure desperation. Yet, Rosinante would never hurt you, so he proceeds to stick one, two and then three fingers inside you, moving them in and out, deliciously.

He then crawls over you again and softly, slowly, and gently inserts the tip of his dick inside your slit. Little by little penetrating you, until he is deep inside you. You moan loudly, making him grunt. “Mommy, so tight” he says as he starts moving in and out of you, slowly increasing his pace. The form of his big dick showing on your stomach as his hips fucks you hard, both of his hands squeeze your breasts together while sucks both of your nipples at the same time making them squirt all of its contents out into his mouth and chest.

“Fuck babe” you say, panting. You are losing yourself into climax, your back arching, your toes curling, your eyes rolled back. “Is mommy coming?” he asks. “Yes, darling. Keep fucking mommy” you moan, carving your nails on the sides of his strong thighs. Until the pressure that’s been building up inside you, finally start to release. And while he keeps fucking you, he says “can daddy fill you up with his milk?”. “Y-yes, babe, fill me up” you tell him while orgasm strikes. “Take it all inside, mommy. I want you to fill your womb once again”, he says grunting and releases all of his seed inside you, a warm fulfilling feeling that you missed and loved.

He flops on to bed next to you and hugs you closer. “I love you mommy” he says, kissing your forehead. Your exhausted body indulges on the moment, and your head rests over his wounded chest. “I love you too, daddy”. He covers the both of you with the blankets and closes his eyes, as well as you. But soon your parental instincts tingles…

“Rosi, did you undo the silent spell?” you ask. “Oh… no I… I didn’t” he says and quickly snaps his fingers. You took your pyjamas and put them quickly on, just in time to hear a knock on the door. “Mom… Lamy and I were feeling lonely… Can we sleep with you tonight?” says little Law from behind the door. “Lamy and I?” you mouth to Rosinante who was struggling to put on his trousers back.

You walk to the door and open it to see the little tanned brat holding his baby sister with a white teddy bear in his tiny hands. Lamy playing with Law’s black hair completely calmed down, laughing at his big brother. Both of you and Rosinante’s heart melt, receiving your kids into bed and hugging them so tight, in love with your family until they fall asleep.

“Mommy, I love you”, your husband whispers. “I love you too, Daddy” you whisper back... ♥ ~

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