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angelsrcute · 3 months

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Haloo :D im wondering if u r taking requests now but if u r can u write a fyodor with immortal female reader ? It would be wonderful if u can can but u can ignore this request if u want to

“ But can't you see my dear? I am your doppelganger ♡”

⌗ A LOVE IMMORTAL SUCH AS MINE, WILL COME TO ME, ETERNALLY. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Immortal!Vampire!Fyodor + Sub!Immortal!Vampire!F!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, Jealous!Fyodor, Vampire themes, fwb → lovers, alcohol mentions, biting, unprotected sex + use of lube, tit play, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), slight Yandere!Fyodor(?), Soft!Fyodor.

꒰ † ੭ — this ended up being my longest fic ever, lol, 1.3k words!! I am taking reqs! + a lil inspiration from olgami, it's such a good webtoon. (人´∀`)♪ Translation: "Мышка" (myshka)

When humans age, they die and pass on to the afterlife, don't they? Death was something that never came to you, ah immortality, such a cool thing. It was more like a curse to you, humans coming and going, years passing by but still no one seemed to notice the same face walking among them for all these decades. Faces unrecognisable as you try to remember their names, their relation with you, not that it mattered anyway.

Relationships were a nuisance, blink and they're already gone, dead, as you stand in their funeral. It was a really funny thing, oh how you wished you could die instead of watching your loved ones die.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not a famous name for humans but for vampires, they say he's the oldest vampire to ever live. Have you ever met with him? You did, decades ago, in his bed, in his mansion, fyodor needed some relief and so did you.

He was the one who saved you from your death, why? Because he thought you were interesting. He'd take care of you and teach you how to hunt, how to kill people and make sure no one finds out. He seemed like a lonely man too, house deep in the woods, living all by himself.

The other vampires though, had this bloodlust, to kill him, to become the lord themselves. Everyone clawing at any chance they get, to paint their fingers red with his blood. You never understood their reasoning, what's so good living a life like this?

Dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, he liked seeing you in white clothing the most. He said it made you look like a saint, the saint that brought some change to his boring life. He definitely wasn't a fan of other vampires eyefucking you at meetings. Well, they'd end up going missing anyway.

Cleaning up after him was annoying, why did he have to be so busy? that also playing the piano as he drank wine. Blankly staring at the body in front of you as you clean the floor, muttering curses at him.

It didn't take long but you fell for him, yearning for his touches, but you could never confess, fearing it would ruin your relationship. Your body burning like fire as he kisses you, snapping his hips against you, dress ripped off and discarded on the floor.

“You liked that dress? I'll tell them to make one for you again, money isn't a problem for me.”

Cold slender fingers playing with your nipples as he decorates your neck with bite marks, drawing blood from them. Tongue darting out to lick the blood as he whispers about how sweet you taste to your ears. Your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes roll back from pleasure, his hands holding your leg up at this point.

Everything was going smoothly until one day he disappeared, without a single word. All the other vampires went crazy over this fact. Some were happy thinking he finally died, some just disappointed that they couldn't be the one killing him.

You returned to Russia after a lot of years, travelling all over the world, everything was different to you, with the years, technology also grew, like for instance, this human was staring into a phone. Bumping into you and not saying a single apology but they had the audacity to curse you instead, calling you blind.

Well, guess you just found yourself dinner, how lucky. Hiding the body with no effort, muttering to yourself “The world would be a little better without people like this.”

You went down an alley, there was a nice bar here, you remembered. Entering it, you took a seat after ordering your favourite drink. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a stranger coming up to you, sitting beside you, “I've never seen you around here, darling, do you need some help? I know a really nice place around here–”

The man went on rambling about nonsense, poor attempts at flirting, and why is he even talking about himself, you don't remember asking. Quietly sipping on your drink as you ignored the stranger. The stranger, though, seemed offended, “Hey I'm talking to you, whore, if you don't want attention, dress up more!”

Now that part really got on your nerves, what were you supposed to wear, a long ass winter jacket? You could just pretend to play along and just kill this guy, not even interested in drinking his blood! But someone else's voice stopped you, a voice too fucking familiar.

It was none other than fyodor, you watched as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you by his side, eyes narrowing at the stranger with a smile, “It's really rude to flirt with someone's lover, don't you think? You'll walk away from here and remember nothing.” The guy on command, got up and left the bar, the people in the surrounding, definitely didn't care.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Мышка.” He chuckled, as if he just met you yesterday and not decades ago.

“What the fuck? Where the hell were you for all these years!?” You shouted at him, burning a hole into his face with your glare, “Of course I'm surprised, am I not supposed to be when you appear like that? God!”

“Let's discuss it somewhere private, shall we? I know a hotel nearby.” You hated how composed he seemed to be, but still followed him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I was a bit hurt, dear, why didn't you tell the man to leave? or were you interested?” He asked while sitting down on the bed.

“Is that what we're talking about? Give me an explanation, fyodor, where the hell were you?”

“A bit busy, don't mind me, I had business that needed to be taken care of.”

“That's it? You could've at least told me a goodbye! or sent letters.”

“Ah, but that would give away my location, wouldn't it? I didn't want any disturbances, but enough about me, where were you? I couldn't find you in my mansion.”

“I was travelling, and I did not see a point in staying there if you weren't there but you really had me worried, you know?” You sighed, sitting beside him.

Well this was supposed to be meeting up with a past ‘friend’. So why did this turn into a fucking session? According to a certain someone, he wanted to make up for his mistakes!

Currently between your thighs, lapping up your folds like he hadn't eaten in years, savouring the taste like it was his favorite meal. He teased your clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth. Your moans and whines were music to his ear, he could feel you were close, his tongue speeding up to make you cum.

“F-fuck…gonna cum–” You stammered before cumming, lewd slurping sounds filling the room before getting up and kissing you, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. A string of saliva joining your tongue after he breaks the kiss, he definitely likes seeing you like this— face flushed, hair disheveled, neck decorated by pretty hickeys by him.

You don't remember what round it was, all you can feel is the way he keeps fucking his cum back in your cunt. Sweat glistening on your body as you can't help but let out whimpers due to overstimulation, “T-Too much, fedya…slow down–”

“I'm sure you can cum for me again, my dear.”

He kisses your tear soaked face while rubbing soothing circles on your clit to calm you down. You pull him closer to kiss again, running your hands through his soft hair before he cums in you for the last time and pulls out.

Fyodor runs you a warm bath and then puts you on the bed, climbing in to cuddle with you, well, such a memorable get together isn't it?

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

#𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐄'𝐒 :: 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 (ᵔ◡ᵔ)#dom character #sub reader #bsd smut #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd x female reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor smut #fyodor dostoyevsky smut #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

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kiibichio · 7 months

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PLAY DATE 2. 𐙚 ❤︎ M. STURNIOLO

OVERVIEW ;; you and matt get into a heated argument over your ‘friends with benefits’ deal, how will it end ?? (good ending i promise)

CONTAINS ;; angst, fluff, good ending !! (that’s it?)

momo speaks ;; PART TWO OF THISSS. this was so fun to writeee. I HOPE U GUYS REALLY LIKED IT BC I WORKED HARDD MAN I WAS BREAKING A SWEAT OVER HERE (but kinda rushed). enjoy !! (PART ONE HERE <33)

date published ;; 02.20.24

not proofread !!

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6:49 pm.

“are you serious? you just told me you ‘missed me so much’, but you’re letting me leave just like that? am i just some sort of play date to you?” i ask, sitting up. anger, sadness and confusion written all over my face.

maybe i shouldn’t have said that.

matt goes silent for a while, then speaks up.

“you do realize that when we started this we both mutually agreed to have no feelings right?” he says, trying to keep his cool

“well- i mean yeah, but-” i try to speak

“then what makes you think i want to be something more?” he cuts me off. he stands up and starts to get dressed.

“matt. good fucking god, i mean you just have sex with me that damn near kick me out?”

tears start filling my eyes. shit.

“yeah!” he exclaims sarcastically “i do because when we established this, i told you i didnt want a fucking relationship. we’re just friends that just so happen to fuck.” matt raises his voice at me.

then the water works break. goddammit.

i wipe my eyes before speaking up, “okay then… if that’s how you want it to be, then we can end this shit right fucking now. im not gonna allow myself to be used like some damn sex toy.”

“wait.. y/n- c’mon i didn’t mean it like that.” matt tries to explain, regretting what he had just said.

“oh no. i fully understand what you meant,” i reply, now getting dressed.

“fuck..” he mumbles under his breath, but still loud enough for me to hear.

“that’s all you have to say?” i stand up after putting my shoes on, crossing my arms in front of the bedroom door.

matt goes silent.

“oh, what? we’re mute now? real cute.” i ask sarcastically before storming out the room. he follows behind me, trying to explain himself with ‘y/n this!’ and ‘y/n that!’ but i easily tune him out.

as i reach the front door, it starts to open.

it’s just chris and nick, i give a small wave and quickly pass by them and start walking to my house.

ill be damned if i ever let somebody treat me like this shit again.

——————————————————————————————

an hour later, i get a knock on my door. dear lord, who is it now? i walk over to the front door and open it.

matt’s on the other side.

“hey.. forgot your phone…” he says sheepishly, handing it over to me.

“mhm. thanks.” i answer. i start to close the door before he pushes it open again.

“can i… come in?” he asks

“why? so you can screw me over again? no thanks.”

“y/n. im serious. please?”

i can tell he’s serious, but im still hesitant.

i sigh and open the door wider to let him enter.

he makes his way to the couch, while i lock the door and follow behind him, but sitting on the opposite side of him.

there’s a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“just gonna sit there?”

he lets out a deep breath, “listen, i’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. i didn’t take your feelings into consideration and i clearly wasn’t thinking in that moment.” matt explains sincerely.

“i accept your apology. and i understand, but now that my secrets out, we cant keep doing this. it’s just- not.. right.” i shake my head

“that’s another thing i wanted to talk about. it’s not that i don’t like you.. i do- it’s just…” he sighs

“what, matt? you can talk to me. we’re still friends.” i speak. i move closer to him and put my hand on top of his.

“ive been extremely busy lately. flying back and forth, videos, podcasts, everything. its just a lot to handle and im not sure im ready for commitment. so its not a no.. its just a ‘not now.’” he looks at me.

after he said that, i felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. i needed that sense of reassurance. but now i feel like the asshole. i should’ve thought about him too.

“that’s perfectly fine, matt. i can handle that.” i start to smile, “ill wait for you, matt. take as much time as you need.”

he hugs me and i can feel his face growing into a soft smile against my shoulder.

“thank you, y/n.”

4 months later ;;

“matt! baby, i missed you so much!!” i say, leaping in his arms as he walks out into the airport parking lot towards my car. i attack him with kisses all over his face and hug him just a bit too tight.

“too tight, my love.” he says almost out of breath.

“it’s not my fault, this is the first time you’ve ever left me like this! i just really, really missed you.” i exclaim, letting go of him.

“you’re so extra.” he chuckles

okay that first part was a partial lie, but it really is the first time he’s gone back to boston without his girlfriend of 2 months!

“can you two get a room? good fucking god.” nick says disgusted, chris nodding his head and agreeing with his brother.

me and matt both shoot them the middle finger and continue walking to the car.

he grabs my hand, “i missed you too, though baby. i was thinking about you the whole time. and…” he continues to tell me how much he had missed me and loves me.

best boyfriend ever.

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momo speaks (again) ;; ugh this was really rushed im sorry if it sucks 😭😭 BUT I GOT IT DONE. love you guys <3 hope you enjoyed !! TOODLES xx

tag list ;; @sturniolos-blog @mayhem-72 @hearts4chris 🍵

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #youtube #youtuber #fan fiction #fan fic writing #fanfic #fandom #sturniolo fluff #kiibichio

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vhstown · 9 months

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ain't no love; pt. 3

"ain't no love and it's sure 'nuff a pity"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 →

chapter summary: [DUAL POV] The Prowler is someone you never thought you'd run into. Miles thought the exact same thing.

content/warnings: grotesque imagery, depictions of panic and fear, violence, arguments, etc.

word count: 5.8k (dear god)

a/n: thanks to @qiupachups for proofreading cause lord knows i wouldn't have... im not ok guys like actua

“And over here is our robotics department — my favourite, personally.”

All you could think about as the man in front of you talked your ears off — and walked your legs off — was how on Earth you ended up here, rooms and corridors deep into the Oscorp Industries. Trying not to get hit by speeding interns or bump into equipment that cost more than your school uniform, you’d been taking in the winding laboratories and offices that were well past the flashy displays at the reception for the past hour or so, led by the one and only… well, the man had yet to introduce himself since excitedly deciding to take you on a tour. Forming connections, as Ms. Weber had put it, was more exhausting than you’d thought.

“Take a look at this arm for a moment — trained completely on artificial intelligence, and moves just like the real thing!”

You just smiled and nodded, the muscles in your neck starting to hurt from the action. As you did, the metal prosthetic spurred into life, swaying and flexing its bulky fingers in what looked random enough; how realistic it seemed was debatable, though. You noticed small, engraved initials on the wrist, reading “O.G.O”, much like the prototypes in the flashy displays downstairs. You’d seen nothing of the sort up here until now, though. Maybe this one was was just special.

Regardless, you really needed to sit down at some point — preferably in some corner so people could stare at you less. There was always someone throwing furtive glances your way, and right now it seemed to be a gaunt-looking man you’d seen slinking around the department, now in the little laboratory full of strange-looking arms and mechanisms that weren’t nearly as functional as the “A.I” powered one.

“Thank you, Doctor…” You squinted, the faded remnants of the name “MENDEL STROMM” forming on his badge. “Stromm.”

“Professor. Professor Stromm,” he corrected, earnest yet almost with pride. “I always felt like a teacher at heart, anyway.”

You only managed to make it halfway through your umpteenth nod before something caught the corner of your eye. The catching of light from somewhere above you, just for a moment — insignificant, really. It seemed to catch your attention long enough for Professor Stromm to notice your attention had gone elsewhere, though.

“Oh, I must be tiring you. Do you like coffee?” You barely had a chance to open your mouth. “I'll get us both some coffee, God knows I need it— just give me a minute!”

Before you could answer, the man skittered away, his rounder frame creating a noticeable dispersion the sea of people moving through the hall until he was nowhere to be seen.

That left you, a random kid, in the robotics laboratory with probably more than one pair of eyes on you. Or maybe not; when you let yourself look around, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the lab at the present moment. Thank God.

A long-overdue sigh left your chest. As much as you'd been lucky to run into Stromm by the reception (before the less-than-polite receptionist could tell you to beat it), you never expected to be running around so much from place to place, trying to make mental notes of everything he'd been saying.

So far, you had “A.I. arm”, something about “gene editing”, some other thing about “99% efficient generators” and a whole other string of scientific jargon thrown in between half-finished explanations and sporadic spurs of Stromm’s recollection. Admittedly, it stressed you out a little; you constantly had the urge to take a piece of pen and paper and record everything he was saying but you only needed a few brief ideas to go off of on your college essay. That was, if you were even going to go into the science field. You still hadn’t decided, though, if you were going to keep performing like how you did right now in your AP classes, you’d probably have your decision made for you soon enough at the back of those lifeless vegan diners opening up everywhere.

Maybe you could get an internship here, if you were lucky enough. Had you been showing enough enthusiasm? It was hard to match. In fact, the man was so enthusiastic he drained the enthusiasm from you. His passion was admirable, but also somewhat pitiful — like he had nobody to truly share his passions with it. At least until a bumbling, bashful sophomore from Visions came along. You’d rather not think about it too hard — this room was starting to make you feel dizzy. It was like there was something wrong with the ventilation, but you didn’t dare go out, given you’d probably get lost in a minute or two.

It was a week into winter break already, and the realisation made you wince. Just a couple weeks into January and you'd be head-first into exams again, while all your friends who went to other schools lived their lives. Visions just had to be different, it looked like. A couple more of Mr Wellston’s unbearable classes before that, though — instead of learning any math, you’d mastered the art of having one eye on your handout and the other on Miles’.

Miles Morales — you’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. It wasn’t hard, given how every text you’d send him had been left on read. He could’ve been busy, (or given you the wrong number) but the dread of being in that careers fair full of freshmen alone was staring to creep up on you. At least a little confirmation that he wouldn’t disappear off of the face of the Earth this semester would be nice.

Hey?

There was a twang in your chest as you looked over your barren chat.

Read at 2:41AM

…What unethical sort of time is that? He could just be bad at texting — or he just decided to hate your guts now. Either seemed unfortunately probable. Were you enemies, or something? Were you supposed to be annoyed? You’d known this kid for a couple weeks at most. Maybe it was weird of you for wanting to get his number so soon. Miles had his own life, even though he walked you back to your apartment in the middle of nowhere that one time. Why did you even care so much?

Maybe there just wasn't enough time in the day for the both of you.

Beep!

To your surprise, Stromm had come back faster than usual. He had a hand over his face, adjusting his glasses, but… no coffee in sight. The door locked automatically behind him, his badge wrung awkwardly around his neck, like he’d just thrown it on.

“Is the coffee machine broken, or something…?”

“They're completely out of cups, I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” You could’ve really use that coffee right now, you thought.

Still, you smiled at him, feeling the ache in your face smile with you. The man seemed to be pondering something, standing still with a slightly tense expression on his face. He looked like he could’ve used that coffee too.

“Are you okay, Professor?” You tried asking this as unassumingly as you could, but it got a twitch out of him anyway.

“Yes, yes, I've just lost my train of thought…”

You waited, the faint murmurs down the hallway and the strangled breath of the ventilation system above filling the void of silence.

“Are we going to the next floor…?” you suggested.

“No, no,” he said in that melodic way he did, putting a finger up. At least he was somewhat like himself — just thinking, is all.

You decided to be patient, turning your head to stretch your neck slightly, feigning interest in the light fixtures above.

Just what the hell was that gigantic, moving shadow on the ceiling?

“Um, well I think we should go, it’s kind of warm in here—”

“Actually, I think you could do something for me.”

“What is it…?” Your eye twitched as you noticed a figure starting to form from the shadow.

“You see that robotic arm?” The one on display or the one sticking out of the god damn ceiling? “I think you should try it on.”

“What? Really?” It felt like something you’d get in trouble for, but nobody else seemed to be around — except for, you know, the dark humanoid figure right above you. “I— I think I need to use the bathroom first.”

“It’ll be quick. I mean, it’s already hooked up!” Stromm was already reaching for the device.

“No, it’s okay—”

Krrrrr… Bzzzzt!

The room flooded with darkness. Every light had gone out at the same time, the whirr of machines and electricity dying out.

“What on Ear—”

All but for a blur of reddish-magenta light.

Before you could open your mouth, the sound of a ruthless, metallic thud emerged, immediately followed by the crunching of glass, and then a choked breath.

Your vision suddenly sharpening in the little light there was, you could make out the silhouette of Stromm, staggering into the display which held the arm. Where he’d just been was now a foot, faint purplish light glowing from the underside of a shoe.

And then, a grating mechanical sound followed — it sounded like something was snapping over and over, like the arm you’d seen in the display as it moved its joints. A rim of light flickered around what looked to be a sleeve, which was attached to a giant, metallic set of claws, the sharp edges of which caught the light.

“Who are you?! W—What are you doing here?!” the professor shouted out, his feet heavy and erratic on the floor as he tried to ease himself up. His voice came out strange and desperate, strained, almost unfamiliar. You’d think it was someone else if you didn’t know it was Stromm.

All you could do was watch, taking tiny, careful steps back as you tried not to breathe. The figure moved forward, at an unnatural angle, turning as its mechanical claw clenched and unclenched in a now almost seamless movement. You caught the edge of a strange emblem, scrawled messily across the front of what looked to be a suit. It was familiar, and it sickened you once you realised.

“—In this morning’s report we investigate a disturbing string of robberies and break-ins, suspected to be carried out by a criminal duo including—”

There was no mistake — that was…

“The Prowler,” a voice answered for you, crackling and modulated.

“—Norman Obsorn suspects that Oscorp supply chains have been intercepted—”

An ear-piercing buzzing emerged from the air as threads of energy sputtered from the glowing core of his arm device, climbing rapidly up to the centre of his palm. What formed was a concentrated mass of ebnergy, undulating between the claws and casting harsh shadows around the room. Your eyes darted to Stromm, heart in your throat as you expected to meet a horrified, helpless version of the expression he had mere moments ago — it was anything but.

His face was stuck, slack — near dead. And as you watched the energy inevitably grow, his face began to change. What was once the face of Professor Stromm amalgamated into a shapeless, fleshless form, his skin receding into itself and leaving pallid, bloodless sheets of muscle, twitching with thick shadows in the ever-expanding light. As he lifted his head, deep, glowing pits were in place of his eyes.

The same strange voice that came out of the face, you realised, had never been Stromm’s to begin with.

“You are making a mistake.”

Before you could react, your skin singed with heat, sparks rushing past like missiles as the room threatened to explode into white. That was what finally gave you the sense to run.

“—It seems the notorious criminal and his accomplice have increased their activity among a concerning rise of organised crime. Authorities think they could be affiliated with what is coming to be known as ‘The Sinister Six’—”

CRASH!

Beyond your covered ears, a dull boom reverberated through the lab, a million broken shards of glass and plastic flashing with the aftershock. If you were hurt, you didn’t know, adrenaline ushering through your body. Your heartbeat was sharp and loud, your hands were shaking, bile was coming up your throat.

Get me out of here get me out of here get me out of here leave leave leave leave—

Your eyes were painfully wide, stinging with tears, yet everything was overwhelming and sharp and bright — that was when you saw it.

Glass case. Fist. You gritted your teeth.

CRRAAACK!

Big. Red. Panic button.

SLAM!

Instantly, the room exploded with red, blaring light, sirens howling through the room and beyond the door, the lock disabled. You caught one last gaze from those white electric slits before scampering into the hallway, door slamming shut behind you. All you could hear was the clatter of your feet in tandem with your thundering heart, throat too dry to scream. You just needed to get out of here, they couldn’t catch up with you — they wouldn’t.

Shoving past alarmed faces, you advanced to the end of the hall. Stairs — safest bet.

You scrambled down the dingy stairwell, hip throbbing with pain as you turned sharply against the railing down to the next floor. Sweat prickled at your skin, and you tried to breathe. The stairs seemed endless, but you were soon on the bottom floor, dragging yourself to follow everyone else leaving the building. Until you got out, you wouldn’t slow down.

Staggering into the cold, thin wind bit at your skin, the faint cry of police sirens from somewhere you couldn’t see. You tore the visitor’s badge from around your neck, filling your lungs again in big, painful gulps and squeezing your stinging eyes shut.

Never have you been more grateful to breathe in the musty Brooklyn air that you so, so hated.

“Miles…”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ thinking straight!”

“Miles.”

“I swear I had him I just—”

“Miles!”

“What?!”

“Jesus Christ, man. Calm your shit!”

Miles tensed as Aaron gave him a firm slap on the shoulder, the sick feeling in his throat easing just a little.

“It ain’t your fault.” The cool, collected voice of Uncle Aaron, much to his dismay, managed to break through his racing mind. It was his fault — everything was his fault. He’d messed up everything!

“Yes the fuck it is!”

“Watch yo’ mouth.” Aaron had a sudden severity in his tone, kicking Miles back into normality.

“Sorry,” he mumbled back.

Miles elbowed the punching bag beside him, unable to meet his uncle’s eyes. He’d let the man they’d been chasing for the past month to get away, all because he’d been too hasty — too immature. And you had made a stupidly smart decision to press that damn alarm.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he mutters again, voice seeming to fight itself.

“It’s not your fault,” Aaron repeats.

“He’s gon’ kill more people regardless. He could’ve killed—” He bit his lip, hard; your name was right at the back of his throat.

Aaron met his gaze again, but he didn’t give him the courtesy of returning it, eyes stuck to the ground.

“…There sumn’ you’re not tellin’ me?” Aaron asked.

Miles just shrugged, bottom lip freeing itself with the lingering sting of his teeth. There was probably a lot more than there should be that he hadn’t told his uncle.

Walking over to the drawer, he pulled out the dusty old case file. It had tattered corners and the paper had a weird feel to it, like it was from a long time ago: 3 years, to be exact. It was an older case that had re-emerged some time ago — the last case his dad was involved in.

Flicking it open, he was met with all the reports and notes, ones he’d grown sick of seeing: “Unidentifiable suspect”, “vague circumstances” and “unverifiable” were some of the few reasons why. They weren’t going down the “typical” route of investigation, but it didn’t make it any easier that they could break down a few doors without a warrant.

For the past month, Miles had been searching for leads, clues, chasing down suspects of these missing person’s cases — all of them leading him right back to where he started. Every time he thought he was getting closer, he’d go back a hundred steps. Everything about this case lacked any sense of logic; people would disappear without any sort of reason, completely by random. There was no pattern to these cases, except for the fact that whatever circumstances that surrounded them were vague and undetailed.

No name, no face, no form. But he’d finally managed to catch the fish at the end of the hook, following someone who had yet to go missing: a certain scientist at Oscorp industries, who worked in robotics and hadn’t been seen for 24 hours, but showed up to work the next day somehow.

That man had followed another scientist — Mendel Stromm — only to come back in his body. Miles had let it happen, out of necessity, he thought — to finally see what was going on. And he did, he saw the man transform into Stromm. He saw the man walk back into the laboratory and act as it nothing had happened.

And then, he saw you.

You. He wasn’t blaming you for this, was he? No, it wasn’t your fault, you just happened to be… in severe danger.

Miles could’ve prevented this, had he not been so desperate — so conflicted. He could’ve texted you back, told you to stay away from Oscorp instead of typing and deleting the same awkward replies late at night.

And he was supposed to go back to school and see you, and do that job fair with you, right after he’d saved— Right after you saved yourself — from the Prowler. From him.

“You alright?” Miles whipped his head around to see Aaron looking at him, a slight hint of concern in his face.

“Yeah—” He stopped himself from saying sorry. “Gonna head home.”

Miles pushed the drawer shut, feeling the eyes of the people he’d left behind on him — more recently, Mendel Stromm. He wondered if they blamed him just as he blamed himself.

As he walked back to his apartment, he slipped on his jacket — Uncle Aaron’s jacket. He even felt guilty for wearing it, damn it.

Shutting the door and world outside behind him, he took a hesitant glance at the shoe rack. His mom’s shoes were missing.

“Took an extra shift. Dinner’s in the microwave. Tqm!" (Ily!)

“Y yo te quiero,” (And I love you) he mutters to himself, careful not to crease the note between his fingers.

At least she’d never find out. His mom would be off work soon, so he’d get to spend time with her, hopefully. He was just busy himself, with school starting again next week, the job fair, a million different quizzes, meetings with the guidance counsellor…

His dad’s anniversary was right in-between that.

Miles folded up the note, and then tossed it in the trash. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but he hadn’t done any of his work for the winter break.

So, with a deep breath, he headed to his room, sitting at his desk. Miles tried to ignore the numerous sketches of his own gear, and half-finished faces as he tried looking for a pen in his drawers.

One drawing caught his eye, a familiar face. Well, it wasn’t exactly a face. It wasn’t finished yet, but he could picture the way it’d look if it were finished. It was “a friend”, he’d practised telling himself in case his mom decided to clean his room without telling him — you, without an expression but the curve of your cheek and the start of your hair he’d been so focused on instead of your eyes whenever he’d talked to you.

“~Ain’t no love… and it’s sure ‘nuff a pity…”

As he opened his notebook, faint music played from his phone, in an attempt to get him to focus. Still, he wondered if you’d find it weird that he drew you, how you’d look at him if you ever knew about it.

Miles wondered how you’d look at him if you knew he was the one at Oscorp — The Prowler.

“Guys, I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No shit!” The sound of laughter burst out in the room. All you could do was sigh, head on your desk.

Winter break had gone faster than you’d expected, especially given the amount of time you spent in the police station. They asked you the same questions, over and over and over, until you started to doubt your own memory. It was probably necessary, to prove you weren’t lying, or something, but it was exhausting, and you were just glad it was over.

“Why were you in Oscorp to begin with?”

“Do you remember the exact time it was before he left?”

“Are you certain it was Dr. Stromm that walked in?”

“You’re sure?”

You didn’t want to think about it, and you didn’t need anyone else to know either. It was better to pretend nothing happened, and that you’d had a productive break like everyone else apparently did. Bunch of try-hards.

The problem now, though, was that Mr. Wellston thought it’d be a good idea to disappear on you right before your midterm. He was supposed to finish teaching integration by now, but your class was far from — and of course, it was coming up on the exam.

You didn’t have a supply teacher either, though that was a good thing. Maybe Wellston would get fired, you’d get a new calc teacher, and all would be right in the world. But for now, you had to deal with these overly-pretentious people you called your classmates, (and always seemed to be okay with Wellston’s incompetence for some reason) talk about how easy the exam was gonna be, and about the homework that Mr. Wellston never checked anyway, and about college — because all anyone ever cared about here was getting into an Ivy. Maybe you should’ve just gone to public school. You pushed that thought back before you could seriously started to consider it.

Instead, your thoughts went to the person slouched at the desk next to you: Miles, the kid that had suddenly lost all interest in talking to you entirely. It wasn’t just the boredom of having Calc BC last period, too. For one, he’d never try to start conversations anymore, and two, you couldn’t even hold a conversation with him if you wanted to. When you greeted him in the hallway today, he just walked past, not even bothering to look at you. Maybe he hadn’t been busy over winter break like you thought — he’d just been ignoring you.

“Bro, that’s Principal Evans! Shut up!”

You squinted your eyes, heart dropping as you saw the Principal advance down the hallway, right towards your class. Miles didn’t move at all. In fact, he looked like he was… asleep?

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Miles…!” you whisper-shouted, shaking his shoulder to no avail.

Sighing, you thought about slapping him for a moment before deciding against it, shaking his shoulder it a second time, The boy got up with a start.

“Huh…? Wha… what? What do you want?”

“Prin… ci… pal..!” you mouthed, furrowing your brows at him and pointing to the door.

“Oh, damn…” He stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes before straightening up on his chair. As much as Miles liked to annoy teachers, anyone would quickly come to learn that annoying Principal Evans was a death wish — from both her, and your parents.

As he fixed up, you caught a glimpse of his face for the first time today. So much for promising to not look at him. Exhausted wasn’t enough to describe it — he looked like he’d gone to war, or something. At least you’d managed to sleep well enough, without dreaming about Oscorp. Count your blessings, I guess.

You didn’t have much time to relish in your few blessings, though, as the tall, well-dressed woman stopped by the door. She peered in, before her brows knitted together, opening the door.

“Y’all don’t have a teacher?” she said, in that quick, strong voice that put you all on edge. Some of you had the confidence to mutter a “no.” or shake your head. “Who are you supposed to have?”

She shook her head as your class answered, pulling out her phone.

“Gimme one second. I don’t care if the period’s almost over. Fifteen minutes of class is fifteen minutes of class…”

You held back the urge to sigh again. If Wellston showed up, he’d probably force you all to stay back an hour and “catch up”. That, and you had the careers fair to help out with right after this period. The door closed again as Principal Evans took a call outside, and you let your eyes shut.

“Hey Martin, I’ve got a class here that…” Her voice fading into the background and your class starting to murmur again, you opened your eyes, only to catch Miles’ gaze just for a second.

“What?” you said, looking at him, though it came out a little too confrontational.

“What?” he mirrored back, though it came out a little too much like a statement. Miles — always good at making you feel stupid, you supposed.

“What’s up with you today?” you started, deciding it was better to bite the bullet.

“Nothing. Why?” Maybe not.

“Are you going to the careers fair…?”

“I kind of have to.” You probably should’ve slapped him when you had the chance.

“…Yeah, but—”

“Alright! Silence!” Principal Evans was at the door, holding it open with her foot. “Nobody’s comin', so y’all gotta do some work until the bell. I do apologise.”

There was a little commotion as people “got to work”, and you shot Miles one last glare before pretending to be interested in the notebook you’d had closed all period.

And so, fifteen minutes passed by with the sound of scribbling next to you, and when you stubbornly tried to peek, his arm just had to be in the way.

A lot was in the way between you two, it felt like. So much for being friends.

The bell finally rang, and you stretched a little as people left, preparing yourself for another hour or two before you could go back to your dorm. At least you wouldn’t have to talk to Miles, you had… freshman to talk to. Maybe this was a learning opportunity — I hated freshman, but from participating in a careers event at my school, I learnt that they’re not just people I have to shove past to get into the cafeteria. At least you didn’t have to put that abysmal sentence in your college essay until next year.

The chair next to you screeched, making you jump a little. You stopped yourself from cursing under your breath, noticing Principal Evans still lingering by the door. She was ushering the last people out, a crease between her brows.

“What class is this?” Her voice was directed at you, you realised.

“Calc BC,” you replied.

“Calc BC…” She seemed to emphasise every sound as she talked, as if she was thinking about something important. “Well aren’t you a bright bunch?” You managed a tiny smile, feeling like you weren’t a part of that “bunch” at the moment.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but… do you know what happened to Mr. Wellston?” you asked, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. You couldn’t believe you were asking about him, but you really needed to figure out how you were gonna pass — and soon.

“I know as much as you do,” she shrugs, earrings swaying as she turns her head back to her phone. “If you wait, I might be able to find out for you. Is it urgent?”

“I mean…” you started, before you felt a slight nudge at your arm.

“We’re gonna be late.” Miles gave you an unreadable look, and for some reason you relented.

“It’s fine, Principal. Thank you.”

“Take care now.” She moved out of the way for you to leave, but before you did, she spoke up again. “Oh, and Miles — I’m already making arrangements, so expect me to call you up at some point.”

“Cool. I mean— okay, thanks,” he mumbled, starting to walk down the hall.

You followed, having to push to keep up among the many students that were moving past. Damn fast walkers…

Feeling the uncomfortable need to talk, you opened your mouth. “We’re going to the gymnasium, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When can we leave?”

“Like, 6pm, or something.” Great.

“That late? How long’s the fair?”

“Thought you’d know.” Oh, maybe.

“I would, if someone told me,” you huffed under your breath.

There was another stretch of silence between you, the school starting to empty as you walked towards the other side where the gymnasium was. Miles didn’t have his earphones in, so there wasn’t much of an excuse for you to be ignored. Somehow, that made you feel less confident to speak.

“How was your break…?” you tried. He was unresponsive for a moment before shrugging.

“Boring.”

“...Yeah, same.” You didn’t sound very certain. The look he gave you made it clear he could tell. There was an uncomfortable pause that made you regret talking in the first place.

“…You okay?” he asked, suddenly.

“What?”

He took in a deep breath, looking at you more seriously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… why?” You raised your brow at him, even if he couldn’t see.

“Don’t need a reason to ask.”

“I’m pretty sure you do.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“How the hell was that a rhetorical question?”

“That one’s rhetorical too.”

When you realised what he meant, you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the stupidity of your conversation. You thought you caught the corner of his mouth raise too.

“Good thing Ms. White doesn’t pick on you, then,” you joked.

“Watch it, I got an A in English.” The way he said it almost made you laugh. Almost. You wouldn’t give him that.

“Right. And what don’t you have an A in?”

“Calculus.”

“No way…” You gave him a dubious look. “Seriously?”

“A plus.” He was definitely holding back a smile.

“Shut up.” You held back your own smile, too.

The both of you made it to the halfway-point of the campus, where the greenery and outdoor seating was — the place where they’d take all the promotional pictures. If only they could maintain the rest of the school like that too. Though you had to admit, it was a nice day out for January.

Miles stayed silent as you walked. You decided to stay skeptical for now, but a part of you also really just wanted to get along with him. Better than being annoyed at his existence for the next 2 hours.

Maybe he’d just had a bad day — or a bad winter break. He’d been absent for a while, anyway. That wasn’t for no reason. Maybe he just had a lot on his plate. A lot to catch up with, especially.

“How are you getting As anyway? Haven’t you like… missed a lot of classes?”

“I guess.” He shrugged, and the setting sun made it clear that he looked more frazzled and tired than usual. His hair looked like it hadn’t been re-braided in a while, though you wouldn’t tell him that.

Still, when he squinted uncomfortably at the sunlight shining right in your direction, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes again. One was slightly more green, the other slightly brown, coppery flecks in each. They were barely distinguishable in the dim fluorescent light of the school, but you couldn’t help but stare.

He was damn pretty. He was everything, it seemed. Smart, interesting, unique, mysterious, good-looking… You cringed at the realisation that this probably wasn’t a normal thing to think about someone you were supposed to be mad at. Were you supposed to be mad at him…?

“Guess everyone that goes here is a genius huh?” you continued in a rhetorical fashion, a part of you hoping he’d made the same awful joke again,

“That include Rafael?” You pressed your lips together at the mention, stopping the laugh from forming.

“He’s…” you tried, and failed. “Definitely something.”

“You’re smart, though.” You almost stopped walking. He said it so quietly you almost thought you’d misheard.

“I am literally failing Calc.”

“You’re almost failing Calc,” he corrected.

“I will be failing Calc in a week’s time.” You might as well admit it. The thought of that exam next week was hopeless.

“You ain’t even that bad at it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s just practice.”

“Right, right, yeah. I’ll do that.” You didn’t sound very reassured. Miles didn’t seem to be in the mood for reassuring, either, shoving his hands in his pockets.

As you approached the gymnasium, you recognised more of those colourful, weirdly-designed posters, the ones you’d posted around school. Who even made those…?

Someone else was in the distance, walking around the corner. You did a double-take as you elbowed Miles.

“Hey, is that…?” You trailed off, the two of you stopping abruptly.

“The hell is he doing here?”

“No clue. Why’s he coming this wa—”

Suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled behind one of the pillars, and then directly facing Miles.

“What are you doing?!” you whisper-shouted.

“Just shut up for a sec…!” he whisper-shouted back, widening his eyes at you before peering past your less-than suitable hiding place.

His face was just a breath away from yours, arm blocking you from moving, or really seeing what he was so desperately trying to look at. Your heart was starting to thump in your ears, and you couldn’t find it in you to breathe, eyes fixed on his hand curled around your wrist for a moment before he let go, focusing on what was in the distance.

“Nobody’s seen him all day,” he mutters to you.

“Yeah, I know, but why are we hiding?”

“He’s— Just keep still.” He giving you a warning look, much like the one he gave Rafael — this time, with a hint of worry.

Deciding to keep your mouth shut, you dared to look past the pillar, just as he did.

There, approaching the gymnasium back door, was Mr. Wellston. The man came to a stop, walking awkwardly beside the wall, glancing around as if he was trying to avoid something.

In a split second, he disappeared behind one of the pieces of foliage. Miles stared hard, grabbing your arm and advancing the two of you closer. You were confused, before Miles’ grip on your sleeve tightened. Only then did you see it.

Almost seamlessly, Wellston disappeared, taking on the form of a police officer, yellow visitor’s badge around his neck — P.C. Williams, officer for the careers fair.

“Jesus Christ…” Miles muttered, eyes fixed on him, right until he went through the gymnasium doors.

You thought the exact same thing.

thanks for reading and soz for the VERY late update im literally being teabagged by my real life lol! lmk how u found it yasss like and subscribe hit that bell

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fanaticsnail · 5 months

Text

Daughter of the Sea: Chapter 1

Masterlist Here, Header Masterlist Here

Word Count: 4,500+

Synopsis: As personal assistant to the newly titled ‘world's greatest swordsman,’ you were privy to the acquaintances your boss kept. Over the years, a young redheaded man continued to visit Kuraigana sporadically over time with his crew. But this trip felt different, something felt off. What were they hiding? And why did the entire crew all look exhausted?

Notes: Benn Beckman x f!reader, platonic!Mihawk x f!reader, platonic!Shanks x f!reader, slight mention of MiShanks ship, Beginning: Shanks is 19, Mihawk is 23, Beckman is 30, f!reader is 22, Uta is 2 months old for the sake of the plot (canonically she's 2 years old). The f!reader is suggested to be native to Kuraigana with her mannerisms and language.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @indydonuts

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

A deep sigh fell from the parted lips of the dark-haired Kuraigana native as you handed him his cup of scolding black coffee. He twitched his lip up in gratitude as he removed the ceramic dish from the saucer.

“Thank you, dear,” the cool baritone of his voice expressed his gratitude to you.

“You're most welcome, lord Dracule,” you nodded a small confirmation, placing down the saucer in front of him and beginning to ready the itinerary over your catalogical journal.

“My dear,” he winced out after taking a quick gulp of coffee, “There really is no need for that title coming from you. We were friends before all this, remember?”

“It's a little too early in the morning for jokes, sir,” you retorted with a soft smirk, “If my memory serves correct, we were enemies first.”

He hummed with a soft smile, glaring at you as you returned to focus on the pages you dictated earlier. You clicked your tongue, noticing a peculiarity in the timetable.

“Something the matter? Something come true of your small espionage, spymistress?” Mihawk queried with his brow arched. He attempted to not pay you heed to the disdain written on your face at your earlier title, but did enjoy the twitch in your shoulders and snarl draw up on your lips.

“I work for you now, sir,” you scorn him with your monotonous recoil, eyes rolling, “And, if you must know, I received a transponder message earlier from the red-hair pirates. They requested passage and resupply at our port, but-...” you drew off, approaching Mihawk’s side once more, “...-I don't understand what this says.”

Mihawk looked on with intrigue, cocking his head to decipher his old associate's handwriting.

“Did the first-mate send you a follow up, or was that all?” Mihawk asked, twitching his eyes up to meet your confused expression, “It doesn't quite make sense.”

“Haven't needen sleepens an’ booze like this b’fore,” you read aloud, attempting to decipher the world's audibly, “Perhaps it’s a drunken confession like last time?”

“Perhaps, but Beckman usually sends a follow-up to Shanks’ messages to belay it, or decipher it,” Mihawk nodded, drawing his hand down to reclaim the coffee cup and raise it to his lips, “When they arrive here, do what you do best.”

“Aye, sir,” your practiced response had another soft smile painted itself on Mihawk's lips, “I'll seek out what they're hiding, consider my words marked.”

“That's my pretty spymistress,” he narrowed his eyes, his lips tight and taunting.

“Not your spymistress, sir,” you retorted, turning on your boot heel and calling over your head, “Your secretary.”

Waiting at port, the familiar jolly roger drew over the gloomy horizon line at the port of Kuraigana. The sea breeze whipped through your restrained hair, your formal uniform floating in the wind as the Red Force docked at port.

The merriment you had come to expect was not the one that welcomed you. The crew were more disheveled than usual, their attire worn and unchanged, the straw hat atop the young captain's head splitting and fraying - but Shanks' smile never faltered. In fact, the whole crew seemed to be brimming with joy.

“Oi, eyes on the starboard bow! Mihawk's hot secretary coming out to meet us at the docks!” Shanks' booming call drew a loud cheer from the crew aboard the ship, prompting you to shake your head at his welcome introduction.

“Captain,” you uttered with a curt nod, watching as his boyish charm carried his overemphatic steps towards you. Upon stepping closer and meeting your gaze, he immediately opened his arms and snuck them beneath your own.

“I missed you, pretty lady,” he uttered, raising you off your feet and twirling you in place. Shock swelled at your eyes at his glee, you only having a moment to react to the spin by hastily perching your hands over his shoulders and holding him firmly.

“Enough, Shanks,” you tapped his left shoulder, “Put me down and help me decipher your-...” your sentence was lost to you when you saw the sunken hazelnut eyes of the redhead captain.

You snapped your eyes over to meet with several other members of the crew: all with the same sunken eyes and jolly smiles.

“My what, pretty lady? Hm?” Shanks smiled a wolfy grin, all teeth and charm, “Decipher what?” You took a moment to reassess the situation as Shanks planted your feet back onto the wooden dock.

Glancing at the crew, you ensured you took your time studying them all, noticing a single member missing.

“Your competent first mate,” you mentioned, attempting to pry yourself from the teenage captain, “Where is he?” Shanks' smile deflated into a soft pout, grasping his wrist behind your back and holding your body firmly against his chest in a vice-like grip.

“Your first thoughts after all that is big ol’ burly Beckman?” his pout intensified, “Are you really not going to say hello properly? Not even for old time's sake?”

Rolling your eyes, you grant the redhead a small peck on his cheek. A gleeful laugh exhales through his cherry-red lips as he finally releases you from his embrace.

“Okay, take me up to see the world's greatest swordsman,” he ordered you, turning you and circling your right arm with his left, “I have some news you're not going to believe.”

“If it's got anything to do with ‘Haven't needen sleepens an’ booze like this b’fore’,” you mocked his incoherent message in a deep voice, “I'm all ears.”

Shanks’ laughter echoed all the way towards the Kuraigana highkeep. His complimenting words to your appearance, and abilities to prepare for them a place to stay, had your small smile growing wide, but eyes remaining narrowed and cautious. Each time you would attempt to peel your eyes away from the young man, he would call your attention back to him by offering you more praise and distraction.

As the shadow of the new lord of Kuraigana cast the two of you within his gloomy silhouette, you were get to get a single glance to the crew behind you.

“Red-Hair,” Mihawk uttered, crossing his arms with a subtle glare.

“Gloomy prick,” Shanks laughed affectionately, releasing you from his arm and extending his right hand outwards to clasp around his former rivals’.

As Shanks finally became distracted, you stole a moment to reassess all of the red-hair crew. All crew was accounted for: Hongo seeming to guard the turned figure of Benn Beckman with a glance over the tall man’s shoulder.

“I have to show you my latest find, Hawk-Eyes,” Shanks sighed, placing his left hand on Mihawk's right shoulder, “You're not gonna believe it.”

“I care not for your trinkets, I have enough wealth of my own,” Mihawk retorted. Shanks smiled broadly, but you were too distracted by the dark-haired first-mate's cloak shrouding his shoulder.

They were hiding something far greater than meager treasure, this you were certain of. The subtle bounce of Beckman's hips and sway of his shoulders intrigued you, as did the soft baritone melody he was humming through his nose. What perplexed you the most was not the unusual mannerisms he was displaying, but rather what he was not.

Beckman was not smoking a cigarette.

Your eyes never left Beckman's back, your gaze unblinking and intense. This did not escape the notice of Mihawk, who darted his honey-coloured eyes behind Shanks to see your gaze locked on the first-mate.

“What have you got hidden over there, Benn?” Mihawk’s purred taunt cut through the air like Yoru into the wooden hull of a fleet of ships.

Silence. Uncomfortable silence. A silence so tense you could audibly hear the muffled grind of several sets of teeth behind tight lips.

Until the silence was broken with a soft sound that grew louder and louder. Whimpers, grizzles and finally a lengthy whine that immediately swelled into a loud cry drew you all in immediately.

“Wh-What have you-...” Mihawk's words were lost to him as Beckman turned. His eyes were glassy as his sockets lay bruised and sunken against his face. The look of absolute sleep depravity was written on his face, exhaustion and exasperation in every step.

Within his arms lay a small form, topped with pale pearl and dark ruby hair split right down the middle. Their face was contorted as they squealed out a shrill cry. Within Beckman's large arms lay-.

“-A baby!” you exclaimed in absolute glee. Your breathy sigh only has your smile raise further against your lips as you swoop towards Benn Beckman, “You have a baby!” All air of caution blew away with the wind as you reached the first mate, pressing your hand against his forearm as you glanced at the child in his arms.

The child was dressed in pastel pink with white frills, their body revealed as they struggled to remain contained in a soft swaddle.

“A little girl?” you asked him. Beckman nodded, sighing out a soft, “Yes.” You looked down in awe at the infant, her eyes scrunched tightly shut as she continued to wail.

“May I hold her?” you asked him, eyes filled with excitement. It had been so long since you had the pleasure of entertaining new life and soothing their cries. Beckman was so exhausted, all he could do was nod in response. You down turned your lip in an empathetic smile, your eyes softening as he handed over the small child.

“Oh, come to aunty, sweet pea,” you cooed at her, immediately beginning to walk with her in your arms in a pacing fashion, “Such a pretty girl! Oh, you are gorgeous.” Beckman's eyes never left you, watching you as your stoic face melted as soon as the baby was passed to you.

The child continued to wail, her legs scrunching up to her chest and growling out in discomfort. Your questions flew out of your mouth faster than you could halt them.

“When was the last time she was fed? Has she had a bottle? She is far too young for solids, what have you been feeding her?” The first mate’s head was spinning from the rapidity of your line of questioning, but it was a welcome change to the cries he had been dealing with for the past few hours, “Has she been changed? Is it her nap time? Has she got colic? When was the last time she was bathed? Where is she at in her daily routine? What is her name-?”

“-Her name is Uta,” Shanks’ voice softly called to you, breaking you out of your rapid-fire questions, “She's been having milk from a bladder every two to three hours, last time was about fifteen minutes ago, wasn't it big man?”

“Aye, Captain,” Beckman confirmed with a curt nod, “Changed her soon thereafter.”

“She'll be due for a nap in a minute, probably why she's gotten so grumpy,” Shanks laughed heartily, clapping his hand over Mihawk's shoulder, “Just like you, hey?” Mihawk remained silent, eyeing the child in your arms with caution.

“Uta,” you fawned down at the infant, gently placing her chest over your shoulder left and supporting her neck with your right hand, “Oh, little song. Such a beautiful name!”

The child stirred within your arms as you walked away from the red-hair crew and towards the high-keep. Mihawk glared at you cautiously as you smiled up at him, gently rocking the child and now patting her back. A large, guttural sound emitted from Uta’s lips, her legs softly falling away from their scrunched position in relief to the stomach pressure.

“Oh, Uta. I bet that feels better,” you giggled at the child, walking past Mihawk towards the keep, “Clever girl. Come with aunty, let's get to work while your uncles and daddy rest, hm?”

“Just where do you think you're going, dear?” Mihawk’s disinterested tone called over to you. You halted in your steps, turning to face the large crowd of pirates. You glared down at your boss, pursing your lips as the large pack stared up at you.

“Us ladies are going to tend to my duties for the day, and get to know each other better. Girl time,” you inform them with a stirn voice, “And you all are going to make yourselves comfortable in guest quarters and rest up. Is that understood?”

Nods frantically bobbed in affirmation amongst the Red-Hair pirates, but a firm cross of arms and scowl almost had you halt your plans.

“Under whose authority?” Mihawk spat at you. Shanks widened his eyes in shock Mihawk's sudden animosity. You sighed, huffing out a breath while continuing to pat the child.

“My lord Mihawk, self-made man of myth and legend,” you bowed, supporting Uta's neck as you did so, “World's Greatest Swordsman and ruler of high-keep Kuraigana. Master of the blade, keeper of secrets, loyal confidant and expert-.”

“-Alright, fine,” Mihawk caved, a small blush almost peeking through his pale complexion, “You may stay for a night to restock and rest.”

“A week would be better, sir,” you continued to hold your head low, refusing to look up until he allowed himself to be swayed by your words. It didn't take too long, uttering a curt, “A week, and you will all clean up after yourselves, am I clear?” as he did so.

The red-hairs all uttered an “Aye, sir,” in unison, the relief adamant in their voices.

Rising from your low stoop, you smiled at your boss first before looking at Beckman. His eyes lay half-lidded, his lips down turning only slightly as his expression remained unreadable. The man was past the point of exhaustion, you deduced from your hasty assessment.

“Alright, do we have a changing bag, or shall I send for supplies immediately?” you asked Shanks, who grabbed at the scruff of his neck with a sheepish grin.

“We're fresh out, unfortunately,” Shanks confessed. Beckman sighed, shaking his head at his captain’s quick response and adding one of his own.

“We have two fresh clouts and some strips of fabric,” Beckman relayed to you, “Unfortunately, all her clothes are soiled and they'll be needin’ a good wash.” He made his way up the hill beside you, walking in step as you opened the doors to the keep.

The Red-Hair crew remained behind with Shanks, no longer viewing you as a threat to their wellbeing the longer you braced Uta against you.

“Thank you, Benn,” you smiled at him as he held open the door for you. He returned a small smile at you as you passed him with Uta still remaining in your arms.

He couldn't help but notice the fluttering beat in his heart as he watched you cradle the young baby. Although Uta was not his biologically, nor were you by all means with him romantically: your flirtatious past together, your soft smile, and the way you immediately took to caring for the child had Beckman’s mind running away with him.

You chose to follow Mihawk in his ambitions, rather than join with Shanks in his. A spymistress and master of your trade from your early years, he had many run-ins with you over his checkered past. No kiss was ever shared, nor a passionate night together - but he was always left with a sense of longing after you'd smile at him.

It never did take you long to pry truth from his lips, and he was well aware of this factor. He was a pirate with the heart of an honest sailor; and that honesty meant he could never have a lie uttered in your presence. He adored you, and would see you spirited away from high-keep Kuraigana with him should you ever ask.

There was a part of him that wishes he could sweep you off your feet, romance you and dote on you in a coupling that could rival Roger and Rouge, but he may be just seeing what he wants to see in your smile.

To Beckman, you were the one that got away. The one who would reciprocate his flirtations, only to leave before anything more could occur. He adored you. He could even go as far as to say that, at one point in time, he loved you. And now, as you cradled young Uta against your shoulder and uttered sweet praise into her ear, those feelings came flooding back.

As you moved around your desk, you readjusted the infant in your arms. You cradled her in the crook of your left elbow while you sat: going through a variety of paperwork and ledgers drawn up for Mihawk to sign.

Beckman placed Uta’s lackluster satchel of supplies on the desk beside the papers as he noticed a small twitch in your expression. You looked hyper focussed on your work as you rocked the child gently to sleep, scowling at a line of ink drawn on a ledger.

“You can leave, Benn,” your nose twitched as you narrowed your eyes on the paper, “No harm will come to her,” you looked up at him above your paper, “Honestly, it's a little heartbreaking you didn't disclose this in your letters. After all this time knowing one another, I would assume you would inform me you had a daughter.”

Beckman sharply sucked in a breath, eyes widening with shock.

“Uta’s-...” Beckman began, halting as he thought about his words. Should he confess the child was found in a chest, abandoned and discarded? Should he inform you that Shanks had claimed her as his own? Should he see how your mind fell immediately to that conclusion, and should he see where this conclusion would lead you both?

You looked down at the sleeping child, taking Beckman's silence as confirmation that the girl was indeed his.

“She is beautiful,” you sighed down at her before snapping your eyes back up towards him, “Go and join the others. Enjoy an uninterrupted cigarette, Daddy,” you added for Uta’s benefit, “And when you return after a good rest,” you smiled a melancholy grin, “Tell me more about her, okay?”

Beckman's heart swelled for you, his spirit soaring as he watched you continue in your duties for Mihawk with Uta. His feet remained cemented in place as he willed this moment to be branded into his memory. He never wanted you more than this very moment, but remained silent in his yearning.

“Something else, Benn?” you asked him, staring down at the baby in your arms. The girl blindly began mouthing at her clenched fists in her sleep, seeking them out to gnaw on for comfort.

“Uta’s Shanks' daughter,” he blurted out in a low and cautious cadence, “Found in a shipwreck amongst booze and plunder. She’s not ours biologically, she’s a daughter of the sea.”

You snapped your eyes up to him, lips parting briefly before your gaze softened at him. “Thank you for your honesty, Benn. I appreciate your candor, as always,” you immediately halted your train of thought, thinking of your earlier interaction with him, “I would also like to apologize for calling you ‘Daddy’ earlier. I meant no disrespect, and I only did it for her sake.”

“No need for an apology,” he smirked with a soft nod, “And I never could never lie to you. You always get the truth outta’ me, one way or another.”

Humming in response, you easily slotted your index finger within Uta's and watched as she tested her strength in her vice-like grip. You hung in comfortable silence for a moment longer, both eyes meeting with the tiny life cradled in your arms.

“You should have named her Umi,” you informed him, “Beautiful child of the sea, rather than ‘song’.”

“She’s named ‘Uta’ because even her cries are like melodies to the crew,” Beckman continued, “And Shanks sang to her when he first met her.”

“Oh, how beautiful,” you commented with a soft smile. Beckman swooned at your expression, his body unconsciously leaning towards you. You narrowed your eyes while smirking up at him.

“Go and join your crew, Benn-,” you began, the first-mate's baritone voice oozing over you like warm honey to halt your thoughts in their place.

“-Beckman, Darlin’,” he whispered, “You don't call Mihawk ‘Dracule’, nor do you call Shanks ‘red hair’,” he leant over your desk and affectionately pinched your chin, “Call me by my name, or give me a term of endearment,” he shot you a sly wink with a winning grin, “Even if it's ‘Daddy’.”

Face swelling with a fresh rush of blood, you attempted to control your fluster. You swooned as his thumb caressed your chin, heart calling to your teenage crush you thought you long-since snuffed out.

“Go, Becks,” you smiled up at him, his expression mirroring your own as he continued looking at you, “Go rest, replenish and relax. Uta is with her aunty, and her aunty is more than capable to care for her for a few hours.”

“Aye, that she is,” Beckman gave your chin a gentle tap, his closed-lip smile and half-lidded eyes still holding to you as he retracted his hand, “And, what a pretty aunty she has.” He turned on his heel, walking back over to the door and hovering in the threshold for a moment.

“Go away, Becks,” you laughed at him, shooting him with the paper in your hand, “And tell your crew to bathe while they're here, they all stink,” you called as he left the doorway. His chuckle reverberated in the hall, a song you did not know your soul yearned for.

Looking down at Uta, now properly settled in your arms, you sighed in contentment. “Back to work for us, princess,” you smiled as you returned to your duties, “But first, let's see about getting you some more supplies. Maybe a medical examination, birthdate assessment and a good look to ensure you're alright.”

Setting quickly to work: you organized several deliveries for the Red-Force to resupply the vessel, called out a medical professional for Uta, gathered supplies to meet the needs for a child - including developmental appropriate dried milk powders for lengthy trips.

After two hours of work, Uta woke from her rest and became restless as she searched for food with her mouth parting and hovering over her balled fists. You hastily withdrew supplies from her satchel, readying and feeding her from a fresh bottle, changed her clout and burped her, before seeing if she needed more milk.

A small smile fell from her lips as her eyelids fluttered, her body drunk on the swell of warmth in her belly and content in her cleanliness. Soon thereafter, she was back to sleep in no time.

In the following few hours, several deliveries were made to your office. New clothes, clouts, a bathing basin, a collapsible crib and sheets to match, bottles, a woven wrap for baby carrying, a bassinet with two anchored wheels, and a soft velvetine hawk with weighted wings were amongst the gifts you had purchased with your own Berry for your new niece.

Uta stirred in your arms, enjoying following a similar routine from earlier, but instead of falling back to sleep, she remained wide awake and staring up at you.

“Oh, pretty girl,” you cooed down at her, watching as she stared with a vacant, unreadable expression back towards you, “Eyes with wisdom far beyond her years.” You set down your papers, pressing a steel paperweight down atop the pages.

“You know all the secrets, don't you,” your words held no truth to them, only speaking in melodic jest, “They will all be at your mercy one day, won't they?” You stood, walking with her while holding her at eye height. Supporting her neck and propping her upright, you continued to hold a one-sided conversation with the small child.

“You've got all your uncles wrapped around your finger,” your sing-song voice carried down the hallway, “You’re gonna get to your uncle Hawk too, one day. He's going to be the one that loves you the most.”

Ears pricking up in the hall beyond the door, three men halted their eager footsteps as they eavesdropped on your conversation with Uta. Mihawk attempted to feign disinterest, but was highly intrigued by what you were relaying to the child. Shanks felt his heart swell at the bonding moment between his two favorite ladies. And Beckman?

Beckman didn't know what to think. Especially with sweet praises falling from your lips onto his newfound niece. All he knew was the soft call of his heart, his soul yearning for a woman he knew he could never have.

After what felt like a small blink for you, but several eternities for Mihawk; a week had soon passed you all. The Red-Force was freshly stocked and resupplied, and you enlisted Yassop to pile the gifts for Uta onto the ship.

As Shanks stepped on board the planked barrier, he extended his arms out to claim the small infant from you. You wanted to hesitate, to offer Uta a solid place to call home: but with Mihawk commissioned to claim bounties and enact horrid acts of war, you felt Uta would be far safer with Shanks.

“Please keep me updated on my beautiful niece, Shanks,” you warned him with a soft scold, handing him his daughter, “And any other children you find within your care. I would hate to see them going unspoiled by their favorite aunty.”

“Hah!” Shanks laughed at the notion, “If I find another baby in a treasure chest, you'll be the first one to know. Of that, I'm certain.”

You waved Shanks off, a bittersweet look on your face as you mourned the loss of warmth in your arms. Beckman was the last to board, turning on his heel and extending his left hand out to claim your right.

Without further word, he stopped down and pressed a gentle kiss atop your knuckles. He held his lips against your hand for a fair while longer than he intended, truly depicting his gratitude in getting a reprieve from both uncle and captain-watching duties.

“If Shanks doesn't keep you updated, I will Darlin’,” he uttered against your skin, removing his lips and looking up at you through his dark eyelashes, “Every milestone, if you truly want.”

“Please,” you smiled at the tall man as he elevated himself back up to standing height, “I would not want to miss a thing, especially if it’s coming from you.”

“Alright, pretty lady,” Shanks called down at you, sporting Uta in the woven wrap against his chest, “Give me back my first-mate. We gotta make waves.”

“Aye, sir,” you uttered, glancing down at where Beckman's hands still held yours. He followed your gaze, cheeks dusting with a subtle pink as he realized he was the one still grasping your hand. You giggled as he carefully retracted his hand from your own, his fingers gently brushing yours.

As the Red-Force glided over the swell of waves, you couldn't help but feel a piece of your heart left with them. The question was who held that piece: was it the young child you had carved for, or was it the dark-haired first mate.

#one piece #x reader #benn beckman #op beckman #op benn beckman #beckman x reader #f!reader #benn beckman x reader #one piece x reader

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zvdvdlvr · 10 months

Text

— Are You Gonna Kiss Me, or What?

🎵 synopsis. Mike’s normal, utterly boring day is pleasantly interrupted by a diabetic whirlwind.

🎵 warnings. Finger pricking. Foul language.

🎵 author’s note. Shoutout to @paxamillius for writing this with me and for helping me write a realistic diabetic character.

🎵 tracklist. <Track One.> <Track Two.> <Track Three.>

—— 👾

mike shook his head, re-reading the sequence of numbers written in small, practised handwriting. a small smile pulled at his lips. despite having already memorized the number and how to spell your name, he kept glancing down at the slip of paper and running his thumb over the now-smudging pen ink.

with abby already asleep, mike debates if he should call or not. he doesn’t want to wake abby, but he really wants nothing more than to keep talking with the woman that (quite literally) fell into his arms.

mike exhaled. as long as he was quiet he supposed he could stay up and talk to her- y/n. y/n l/n.

slowly mike dialed her phone number; already imagining her voice from the other line.

the line didn’t ring twice before she picked up. “hello?” she answered, her voice having that smile that mike swears made the sun shine a little brighter.

“uh, hi. this- this is y/n, right? it’s-“ mike started, tripping over his words.

“mike! mike schmidt from the mall, yeah?”

another smile: wider this time though. mike beamed. “yeah, that’s me. mike from the mall.”

——👾; 6 hours earlier

the world was spinning, blurring. y/n cursed herself once again for her forgetfulness- she had a tendency to completely ignore her health until something like this happens.

y/n’s blood sugar was extremely low. she knew she needed something fast acting: juice, fruit snacks, soda… a slushie even. but with the way y/n could function, ordering something for herself would be out of the question.

maybe walking blindly into someone will help, was y/n’s rationale. so she carefully walked the best she could to someone, occasionally slamming into a bench or counter.

y/n’s head was spinning. she cursed her pancreas for failing to do it’s one and only job.

"oh dear lord," y/n mumbled. her legs struggled to keep her upright, let alone get her anywhere. her vision was fuzzy and the edges faded in and out, black dots swimming in her line of sight. y/n cursed herself- yet again- for being as careless as she was.

getting a few weird stares and several people backing away from y/n, someone finally approached her.

"are you drunk?" a blob- man?- asked . "ma'am, consumption of alcohol and being under the influence is not permitted inside of the mall, so i'm going to have to-"

"nononono, ‘m notdrunk…" y/n's words were sloppy and rushed. Hoping and praying he believed her, she wobbled a little bit on her feet.

Her body was trembling from the adrenaline and her legs desperately threatened to come out from underneath her. "im… diabetic," she paused, swallowing. "imhaving a hypoglycemia episode." sweat trickled down the back of her neck, making her wince at the feeling. "i need… i need food, like, now, beforeipassout, andgo intoa coma" y/n took a deep breath.

the man looked around. y/n was getting weaker by the second. her legs still felt like toothpicks and jello, with nothing left to support her. "i need… i need to sit…” y/n tried to stay on her feet, but her legs went slack and she was suddenly falling.

An arm wrapped around her waist. “No,” he mumbled quietly. “You gotta show me what to get you.” The man asked. He hoisted y/n in the air, shifting her weight and carrying her bridal style to the food court. “Alright… we got… pretzels, pizza, slushies, popcor-“

"slushies." y/n answered, a barely audible sound.

he nodded.

the man cut in front of the small line at a vendor and carefully set her in a chair. "i need two red slushies, the biggest size you have. please." he pulls out his wallet and slams a few crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

the worker stared at him for a second. "mike, you work here but you have to go to the back of the li-" the woman started.

"I’m sorry, Wendy but it's a medical emergency, she's diabetic and is really close to going into a coma, so im gonna need you to hurry,” mike rushed out, sneaking a glance back at y/n. She was pale and very clammy. It was obvious that she’d pass out soon.

Wendy followed Mike’s gaze and swallowed nervously. Then she turned on her heels and got to work.

y/n had her head in her arms, resting it on the table. she felt like shit. I wish i knew his name, she thought to herself. heat flashed through her body and her hands shook furiously, she felt like she had just run a marathon but hadn't moved an inch. she tried to distract herself from how horrible she felt, what had she done to get this low? Ah that's right. she had overcorrected for a stubborn high, then guess the amount of insulin for a giant drink, which she then proceeded to spill. Shit! she hadn't eaten anything to make up for the insulin she had given.

the man came back with two huge red slushies and says: “please drink this." he sets one down in front of her, and y/n pulls it towards herself and takes a sip.

mike- focused on making sure that the woman was alright- finally registered the whispers and snickers of passerby.

“Come with me," he murmurs. Mike gently grasps her again, handing her the second slushie. "Hold on to those for me, please.” Mike carries her into a small, office-looking room. He carefully sets y/n down against a wall, and he sinks down the wall beside her. Mike holds his hand out for his slushie and waits until y/n hands it to him.

"Uh… wait, i think that's the one i drank out of." She took the drink out of his hands and placed the other one in it. "No, actually this is the one i didn't drink out of. Here switch me again."

"Please just drink the slushie," he sighed.

After about 10 minuets y/n’s blood sugar started to come back up. it was hovering in the 40-50 range which was better than what it had been but still way too low for y/n to drive home. “Hey can you check something for me?" she asked, her vision still a little swirly and her hands still shaking.

Now y/n was able to read Mike’s nametag- which thankfully had a large font. “Hi Mike,” she added with a smile.

Mike smiled back at her, eyes softening slightly at her smile- it lit up her face. “What do you need me to do? Oh and, uh, what’s your name?”

"My name is y/n, but I need you to check something on my insulin pump, my vision is still a little...weird." She motioned towards her eyes. Unable to see small things with her current impaired eyesight, it would be quite a struggle to do it herself. She pulled out the small device. Turning it on she opened it up and turned the screen towards him. "That really little number down at the bottom."

Mike takes the device and squints at the tiny numbers. "It says... 10.7 u. Is that good or bad?" he blinks.

"Oh my god,” y/n groaned. “The one time i decide to pre-bolus, this happens. 10.7 units of unnecessary insulin. Sorry for interrupting and everything. I really should've been better about it." y/n shook her head.

"Hey as long as you're okay then it's totally fine. We can spend as long as you need to in here. I don't really have anywhere i need to be and this is a lot more eventful than what I normally do anyway… I’m not really complaining." Mike glances at his watch.

After a while of waiting and periodic finger pokes y/n's blood sugar returned to a safe enough number to drive home. They had sat talking to each other the entire time. y/n learned about Abby and about Garrett, and how his mom died and dad left.

"Well, I should get going. Thank you so much for everything, Mike." y/n smiles and smiles at him. A smile that just… lights up her face. Her eyes crinkle and a dimple appeared on her right cheek. Mike swears he almost swoons- he’s never had a (pretty) girl look at him like that.

Before she gets up, y/n tilts Mike’s head towards her and she places a delicate kiss on his cheek.

Mike swallows. He knows he’s probably overthinking it, just a simple thank you he reasons. So why did y/n’s eyes dart to his lips before getting up and heading for the door?

y/n has her stuff packed up before Mike realizes it. He watches her pick up her empty cup and toss it into the trash can. But before she leaves-

"Can I- uh," Mike stops y/n, voice breathless. "Is there any chance i can get your phone number? Just, uhm, in case you....y-know... need something again."

So Mike watches y/n write down her name and telephone number on a piece of paper. He watches the way a flush appeared on the apples of her cheeks. Mike watches her offer the paper to him and delights in the way she smiles again. But this time her smile is more bashful, more shy. Mike thinks it’s adorable.

“Thank you,” Mike murmurs, taking the paper. Her fingers brushed his and the flush darkens.

“I should be thanking you, Mike,” y/n says.

Mike can’t think of what to say next. He just stands there, falling further and further into y/n’s eyes. Slowly, cautiously, Mike reaches a hand out to y/n’s waist. She closes the space between them, letting herself be pulled into Mike’s arms.

Her hands wrap around Mike’s back in an embrace, but still looking at him, waiting for his next move.

“Mike?”

“Hm?”

“Are you gonna kiss me, or what?”

Mike leans down and presses his lips to y/n’s, tasting the flavor of the slushie on her lips. He feels y/n sigh against his lips, like she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

All too soon, y/n pulled away. “You should get back to work,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” Mike whisperes back.

“Call me, Mike.”

“I will,” he murmurs, lips still tender from their kiss.

——👾; present time

“I’m free this weekend- if, y’know, you want to go get dinner or something. Abby can come too if you want,” y/n says over the phone.

In all honesty, Mike’s surprised y/n remembers Abby, even though they only talked about six hours ago. “Sure! Where do you-“ Mike swallows, “where do you want to go?” He doesn’t want to go anywhere too expensive even though he wish he could. He just couldn’t afford that.

“I’m okay with anything, homestly. Abby can pick if she comes.”

Mike smiles. “I’ll talk to her about it.” He knows Abby would say yes.

The phone crackles as the two fall into momentary silence.

“I’m glad you called,” y/n admits.

”I’m glad I called, too,” Mike replies.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy. In fact, Mike doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy. Ever. So as he sat there, talking to y/n, Mike told himself that she was good. Good for him, for Abby. This had to be the start of something better; a change in his life, perhaps.

Even later, when Mike was getting ready to sleep, he fell asleep thinking of her.

#x reader #female reader #x female reader #jules writes 📓🖊️#mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #diabetic #x diabetic reader #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #fnaf fluff #diabetic reader #fnaf mike #jules writes 📓🖊#fluff

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rowretro · 8 months

Text

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

WARNINGS: Blood, stabbing, violence, kissing, mentions of suicide

✧tag list✧:@chlorinecake @nikisdubblchococake @enhypensccstarlight @strwberrydinosaur @sunghoonsbeautymark @strawbsj (pls tell me if i'm missing any tags)

✧CHAPTER 15✧

The day was pretty crazy with all those crazy issues in the way of the couple’s special day, and yet they overcame all those problems without getting upset at each other. They say that weddings are truly a test to prove how strong the couple’s love is, and those petty obstacles didn’t break their love. Now married, y/n smiled as she washed some dishes. Heeseung offered to watch the baby, letting the couple have their privacy.

Riki walked into the kitchen, a towel around his neck, collecting a few water droplets from his hair. He saw her at the sink, smiling as she washed the dishes. His arms wrapped around her waist, his face at her neck as he placed a few soft kisses “Do you like doing dishes babe? It’s our night and your smiling while washing a practically clean plate” he pointed out as the girl snickered, washing her hands and drying them on her apron.

She turned around to face him, kissing his jaw as the male smiled “Tell me wifey, what do you want your dear husband to get for you?... new car? A boat? A bigger mansion in an expensive country?” Riki asked with a smile as the girl shook her head. “Please, I already have the perfect husband, a sweet little son, our family just walking distance from here, and a nice home to share with my love… I could just die” the girl said with a smile as Riki kissed her forehead.

Just as she said that, the woman fell unconscious in his arms. It all happened in a second, he barely had the time to even process what had happened, until his eyes fell on the growing, deep red area of her dress, her teary eyes meeting his. Someone shot her. Riki screamed, yanking open a drawer, grabbing a gun as he held her tight in his arms, the two, on the ground, as multiple bullets shot through the window.

“FUCK THOSE MOTHER FUKCERS- baby stay awake for me yeah? I called the boys they’ll be here yeah- FUCK-” Before he even got a chance to finished, the man was knocked out cold, with a blow to his head. The 2 remain unconscious in the kitchen. “Dare kill my brother Nishimura?!... you think I’d let you get away with that?!!!” The man asked, smirking and laughing as he kicked the man. “Now look who’s head is at my feet…” the man laughed.

A few hours had passed, Riki woke up in the living room, his wife at the feet of Yeonjun, as he was tied to the staircase. “And we meet Nishimura. Sorry about your wife bro, see I needed you to know just how it feels when someone you love gets killed.” Yeonjun calmly said “So now we’re even right? Anyways I know you’re going to kill yourself right after because I just killed the only human you’d die for, but before that, why don’t you sign this contract and hand your drug empire over to me hmm?” Yeonjun simply asked as the younger male glared holes into him.

Yeonjun faked a pout as he knelt down before him “You really think I can’t get it if you don’t sign this paper?... fuck it boys, lets go.” Yeonjun said as he left, the men left all ovens, microwaves, stoves and everything on before pouring gasoline all over as they left the building. Riki broke out of the ropes before running towards Y/n who was barely moving, her eyes flutter open as she choked up blood. “R-Riki you need to leave now.” she sternly stutterred as Riki lifted her from the ground “Im not leaving with out y-”

“Riki no you have to… I’m not going to make it ok?.... Just promise me one thing… you will continue being a drug lord, heck the biggest one worldwide, everyone should know you and fear you, and our son will be just like you yeah?” She managed to say as Riki flinched at the explosion just beside them “Y/N JUST SHUT UP YOU’RE COMING WITH ME, WHATEVER HAPPENS YOU WILL BE THERE TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO YEAH?! Y/N- BABE-” The man screamed as he started shaking her.

He couldn’t waste anymore time… He had to leave… so he left. And the building blew to pieces…

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

(No this is not the end…Infact this story is just starting….)

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dave-me0wstaine · 1 year

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PLEASE LMEADE PLEASE!!!!!!! mean dilf dave bro.... dilf dave is too fine for this world.

IM BEGGINF foe him to be the kinkiest bitch on the planet (not too crazy js like size, degration, praise, daddy <maybe>) AND since he's so mature now he knows exactly how to make u feel good. ALSO I SAW A INTERVIEW OF COWBOY DAVE CALLING HIMSELF DADDY AND I CANT STOP THINKING OF IT GOD HELO ME.

OMG SAGE YOUR BRAIN!!!! and first off WHERE TF IS THIS INTERVIEW??? PLS PROVIDE A LINK (for scientific research purposes ofc <33)

secondly i love love LOVE dilf dave simply for these reasons!!! also ik realistically it's unlikely he’d like it but something about calling him daddy.... omg it just does it for me. ESPECIALLY when he's older, i feel like he'd be into it more because it seems more reasonable a title for a man his age, as compared to when he was young. like i feel if you tried to call 80s/early 90s dave “daddy” he'd just kinda laugh it off. but late 90s/early 2000's dave??? oh he's into it.

like i imagine he's already into degradation/praise, etc., but you accidentally unlocked the daddy and size kink for him. maybe you two are going at it, and dave's fucking you so good you're damn near delirious, and the word accidentally slips out. you're so fucked out you don't even realize you said it until he stops in his tracks, only to plunge his cock deep inside you while he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"you like my cock that much, huh, you whore? you like that? calling me daddy?"

after this all hell breaks loose. he insists you call him daddy during sex, usually while you beg him to touch/fuck you. he refers to himself as daddy, saying "daddy loves you, baby" while he's fucking you into oblivion, and whispers praises of how you're such a good girl for him. the size kink follows soon after, as he realizes just how small and submissive you get for him.

also ik im being extra delusional but i'd like to think that at some point he’d start occasionally referring to himself as "daddy" outside the bedroom. like you're trying (and failing) to get something off of a high shelf and he's brushing behind you, saying in a soft voice "daddy's got it, baby."

oh dear lord i just love dave with a daddy kink

#“hello me meet the real me”#“in my misfit's way of life”#but “my misfit's way of life” is actually just making silly little scenarios about calling a (now) elderly man daddy #anyways #sage ily for this ask #i've needed an excuse to unleash the hell that is having a daddy kink #dave mustaine #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine fanfiction #megadeth #megadeth smut #megadeth x reader #megadeth fanfiction #asks

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mrstsung · 2 months

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Shang tsung imagine/blurb/hcs:

*note: after some kind words from a mutual. And fellow shang fan. I'm making something to cheer me up and if anyone else feels the same. I'm not gonna let my brain be mean to me. And keep doing what i love*

Cw: i guess maybe warnings of anxiety,mental illness,and or just brain being mean? Either way reader is feeling down. So shang tsung is helping reader cheer up. Angst,hurt comfort? Slightly spicy mention

Reader is technically gn

💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚

Imagine:

You weren't feeling so well and you're sitting down by shang's island shoreline. You often come down to the beach to meditate or think. But usually you're accompanied by a guard or by shang,your lover, himself. But this time,you're alone. All with your thoughts,they ate at you. Doubt spilled into your mind as tears fell. Why must your brain hate you?

Shang was worried when he didn't see you come into the bed chambers you both shared. Usually you're not out this late. Let alone,outside the main palace. Perhaps you're at the private teahouse? Shang wondered.

*(To put perspective,i hc shang's main palace keep,where he lives and is the living quarters for him,his lover and his personal guards,warriors and servents. All of the others usually stay in a separate area and smaller buildings near the dock port. The palace gardens lead to a pathway leading down a staircase behind the main keep,where a beachside tea house is,shang uses this teahouse as a personal one. Instead of the ones used by kombatants during tournaments. This teahouse is secluded,quiet,and peaceful. It is a mix between Japanese,and Chinese architecture. The reason being is him and raiden often do business when discussing anything related to tournaments. Despite being rivals and sort of enemies. They are respectful of one another and often discuss things as would any master of the martial arts would or even as an emperor or lords of their respective domains. In short. They aint always barking at each others throats,so to have them in petty squabbles all the time is boring and pointless. Anyways. You often might come to this teahouse to get away so to speak.)*

Shang tsung got on his silk red robe. A garment that was decorated by images of dragons and Phoenixes. Etched in gold and yellow. The flame patterns danced along with shades of deep purple and indigo at its base. A fine clothing fit for a man such as he. Simple black slippers he wore as he stepped out the doors to the bed chambers. Into the garden. He followed the stone path through the gardens,enveloped in moonlight. It danced through the trees. The warm summer air,not too hot surprisingly despite being an island. But there had been rain recently,so it was much cooler,but not by much. There was sweet smells of flowers. Tropical hibiscus,Asian lilies,and little lotuses in the pond all filled the night air. Soft sounds of crickets,frogs and other nighttime summer creatures also sang. As shang tsung made his way to the staircase,he heard soft whimpers from below,at the bottom. He swiftly but carefully descended the stairs. As he got closer. He saw you on a large rock. Weeping. The rock was adjacent to the teahouse. He carefully approached you.

"My dear? What are these tears? Why are you out here by yourself this late in the hour? Is something wrong?"

Shang asked softly but in a concerned manner.

As you struggle to make eye contact. And in a small cracked voiced stated

"I just don't understand why you love me? Why would you choose to spare me? I'm not the best warrior,even with your training. I'm constantly worried,i second guess myself,I'm a mess,im not as beautiful/handsome as some people,im just so...meh,i feel like I'm not worthy of anything even kindness. I just don't get it. Besides you could find better I'm sure,a better person than boring,average me."

You lay your head back down on your crossed arms,over your legs you propped them upon. Still crying.

Shang was taken aback. Where did this come from?! His beloved? Doubtful of his love? Who would dare put those thoughts into your head!? But shang tsung thought about it. Perhaps it is not of another,but of a troubled mind. One filled with the anxieties and stresses and struggles of life itself. He walked over to you,first removing the slippers as not to track sand. Barefoot he walked on the warm sand. When he got to you he placed his hand under your head,lifted your chin with his fingers and spoke with the most earnest,soft,and loving voice.

"My dear sweet y/n. Why did i spare you? Simply because i chose to,i could have killed you,taken your soul,and that would be it. But i didn't. But in that choosing i found one of the most kindest of souls. A soul so genuine and true. And you never once tried to be anything but what you are. Your training has served you well,as you are alive aren't you? *chuckles* obviously the woes of kpmbat has not forsaken you yet? Why? Because you're warrior spirit isn't one of physical prowess. It is not of duty of honor. It is simply love. And love is the most powerful energy of all. Love for life,love for being,and the perseverance of it despite of the world around you. You study hard,love hard,and even play hard. You have the soul of a champion,regardless of frivolous titles given by gods. You are a beautiful soul. Inside and out. You worry of others before yourself,you always put others before you. Even when it's hard to. You stuck at my side,even when You had every right to leave. But here,you remain. I'm obviously doing something right my dear. I know that the dark clouds of your mind get to you,but they too will pass. And that beautiful bright glow from you will shine once again. Even now as i look at your tear soaked face,red,and all full of sorrow."

You couldn't help but giggle at that,he always knew exactly what to say.

Shang continues as he sits beside you,comforting you the best way that he could.

"My darling,i simply adore you,all of you. Even the messy parts as you said. Hell I'm messy myself, *chuckles* I'm a sorcerer of soul magic and dark arts after all. But even a devil such as i can appreciate a flower that blooms in adversity. It is the most beautiful,and the most colorful and bright. And no matter what your mind may tell you,your soul never lies. Just as you have been there for me,i will be there for you. And you are deserving just as much as any other. Even more so as I'm concerned. And you are already worthy. Words fail me to truly encapsulate how my heart feels for you. But what i adore the most is your company,simply put. I admire your presence,your existence is enough. But i prefer it more when you're filled with innocent wonder,joyful laughter,and full of life and love. A hunger for knowledge and a pursuit for purpose. Your strive for perfection isn't the way. What is, my love,is the strive to be better than you were yesterday. But if words are not enough to show you i indeed love you. Than perhaps this would suffice..."

Shang tsung then placed his hand upon your cheek,and kissed you passionately. With all the yearning and intensity that ached in his heart to soothe the storm in yours.

All melted away,no more worry,all doubt ceased. All that was. Was you and him. The sounds of the ocean waves crashing softly,the crickets nearby the paths end. All was calm. Your tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy. How silly you felt for doubting your lover shang,let alone yourself.

Of course he loved you. And he loved you in his own way. As did you.

You both sat and talked a few more hours in the teahouse over some tea. Laughing at old stories,on occasion making flirtatious comments,thus leading into a spicier moment. And you both fell asleep soundly in the teahouse.

By morning you awoke to being wrapped only in shangs silk robe.

He with just his silken pants and hair pulled back. Sat at the opening,doors slid open. The warm summer sun outside,hot but ocean air came through the teahouse so it was cool enough.

You just sat there admiring the view. Of both your lover,and the sea. You went over to sit next to him. And layed you head on his shoulder.

He kissed your forehead. And as you both gazed at the ocean. All of your troubles were gone,you were ready to take on anything the day offered you.

Shang helped make you stand proud and firm in who you are. And for shang? Well you get to see his softer side,not many get that chance. How lucky are you?

🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍

This was highly self indulgent. Sorry if it's longer than what i originally planned. But i got so sucked in as i was writing it.

Again no matter if others also self ship with shang, i know that my self ship is unique. And i gotta remind myself that and not be discouraged by this. And i love writing for him. And even if its very self indulgent.

I shouldn't be afraid to post my work. Even if one person likes it. Even if it gets zero recognition. I created something,and i need to remind myself. This is how i grow. Both as an artist and person. Those that matter don't mind,and those that mind dont matter,so to speak. And im glad that people do like my work. Even if its super self indulgent and specific at times.

Again sorry for rambles. Ugh.

Admin is in the feels ok?

I feel shang would want me to keep creating. And keep doing what i love. Him. Lol.

Anyways. I hope you like this. And i hope that this could cheer you up too if you're ever feeling down about yourself.

It helped me when writing it. <3

With love as always

🐍💚 -mrstsung

Hope y'all have a nice day/night.

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paxamillius · 10 months

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-Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or What?

🎧 synopsis: Mikes normal, utterly boring day is pleasantly interrupted by a diabetic whirlwind.

🎧 warnings: finger pricking, foul language

🎧 authors note: big thanks to @zvdvdlvr for helping me, it wouldn't exist without you.🤍

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★