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rush-the-stars · 6 months ago

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Dogfight

pairing: nicholas d. wolfwood x reader, vash the stampede x reader, vashwood x reader

wc: 4k what the actual hell lol

cw: jealousy, mild smut/suggestive content, fighting, blood, biting, marking, possessiveness. the boys are jealous of each other sorta but then get on the same page. minors dni, 18+ only

a/n: this is for an anon that asked me about jealous vashwood and then i spent days working on this and it got too big so i made an Official Fic Post rather than just answering the ask bc im insane and unwell lol this is also probs more 98 vash and wolfwood than stampede! i hope you enjoy!! banner from @/cafekitsune

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The first time they meet you, its through a shower of gunfire. Your wild smile is all that’s left when the smoke clears.

Wolfwood thinks he hasn’t seen anyone so damn beautiful in his entire life—streaked with blood and eyes lit up like a flame, twirling a twin pair of pistols like fucking ribbons.

And Vash thinks maybe he’s in love? And then he shakes his head and tries to clear it, tries to clear you from his vision, and at least the smoke disappears some. And the chaos stills. But you smile all crooked at them, tilting your head a little in greeting and he feels wobbly all over again.

“Happy to save your asses,” you say, “buy me a drink?”

Vash hears wedding bells.

(It’s just church bells tolling in the distance.)

“Happy to—happ—“ Vash trips over all his words.

“Shit, I’ll buy you dinner, too.” Wolfwood says.

Vash looks at him, Wolfwood looks back. And then they’re stumbling over themselves to get up, clambering and clawing and falling over each other and they must look like foolish, scrapping dogs in the dirt at your feet.

You laugh, though, warm and amused.

“Settle down, boys. bar’s still standing—you can both buy me a drink.”

And they’re left to watch you walk away and talk to Meryl, whose shaking her head and rolling her eyes at them. You introduce yourself to her.

And they both scramble after your heels, right on the tails of your skirts.

***

You sleep with Wolfwood first—

He’s surprisingly gentlemanly with you, even if you can feel the desperation and hunger that he tries to keep so far from the surface. He’s all bravado, all honeyed words and little growled praises as he squeezes the fat of your hips.

He gets you so wet it’s almost embarrassing, except that he also makes you come so hard that you forget about it almost immediately. He adores being between your legs, adores tasting and taking—being on his knees for you.

Wolfwood is a worshipful man. Devoted. Adoring. With a little grit and bite when you need it.

He leaves a mark or two. Around your collar bones or neck. One on your hip. He can’t help himself.

He takes good care of you in that brutishly charming way of his—fucks deep and hard, carves his way through you and makes you toss your head back into the pillow and pull at his hair. He loves to please, loves to be told what to do or what you want. Take what you need, pretty girl. He hums to you, groaning when you tell him how good he feels.

Rarely impatient except when you rile him up, Wolfwood makes a good lover. Fun and obedient and affectionate.

You adore him.

***

Wolfwood and Vash get testy with each other.

Tensions are high—Vash is surprisingly sharp with him, in a way that makes you a little wary, treating him like a bit of a ticking time bomb.

Wolfwood doesn’t help. He’s an instigator and if there’s one thing he loves, it’s to get under someone’s skin. Especially someone like Vash, whose usually easy and cheerful and kind.

“Would you leave it?” Vash snaps at Wolfwood, shoving the man’s hand off his shoulder. He bares his teeth a little and in the dim light you see the knife-sharp flash of his pointed canines.

“I was just trying to be friendly,” Wolfwood drawls in a way that indicates he most certainly wasn’t just trying to be friendly.

“Something the matter?” You ask and when Vash’s eyes land on you, he immediately softens. He looks guilty. Hangs his head a little and looks at the ground.

“No,” he says, “sorry—“

But Wolfwood says, “Blondie’s got his panties in a bunch about something and I was just trying to see what was wrong—“

Vash’s eyes flash.

“Nick,” you snap. Short and sharp, like reprimanding a dog.

He looks at you. You look back. Then you jerk your head to tell him to get lost, “take a hike.”

“And who made you the boss?” He snarks.

You level him with a more serious look, hand on your hip, “I’ll find you later.”

“You can’t just order me—“

“I wanna talk to Vash.” You respond firmly, “and you’re being a jackass.”

He stares at you for another long moment. You don’t back down, in fact you tip your chin up a little, meeting his eyes with a flash of authority.

He looks at Vash, who quickly glances away.

He scoffs, “whatever. You’re both a pain in my ass.” But he listens to you and skulks off.

You turn to Vash when he’s out of ear shot, “you okay?” You ask.

Vash can’t look at you. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that—“

“Not your fault. He can be a pest. Walk with me?” You ask and now you hold up the crook of your elbow.

Vash eyes you uncertainly for a moment, before he lets go of a small breath, and siddles up to your side. He loops his arm through yours and you begin to guide him through this little, nowhere town. The sun is setting. The dusk sky is smoky and golden, like a quartz glittering, shadowed and shining.

“You seem—“ You choose your words carefully, “troubled lately.” And then you amend, “more troubled than usual.”

“I’m sorry to worry you but everything’s fine.” Vash shakes his head.

“Vash,” you implore gently, shaking his arm a little. “I can tell something’s bothering you. Won’t you tell me?”

“Ah,” Vash says weakly, “it’s alright.” And he looks ahead, out at the horizon. You follow his gaze. There's nothing out there but the line of land in the distance.

“Thanks for standing up for me tonight but you should—you should go find him. He’ll be waiting for you.”

And then Vash drops your arm and walks away, his head down, a little furrow to his brows. And you watch him go, dumbfounded.

When you return to Wolfwood, he’s waiting for you on the porch of the little inn you're staying at, smoking a cigarette.

“What the hell was that all about?” He gruffs, blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth.

You don’t answer him at first. You slip into his lap easily. He raises his eyebrows in slight surprise, but immediately adjusts, one hand around your waist, the other holding his cigarette away from you.

“You need to leave him be.” You say, sighing as you sink into his embrace.

He pauses for a moment, looks at you—really looks at you.

Then he says, “he wants you, you know.”

“Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Is that why you’re pestering him?” You rub your knuckle against his stubbly jaw, pet him a little. He leans into the touch, nudging himself against your hand.

"You like him?" He asks instead.

"Course I like Vash." You hush, fingers moving to card through his hair.

He takes a slow drag from his cigarette before he leans away to blow the smoke away from you. It lingers in the air around him and for a moment, you look at him through the haze. The smell of it reminds you so thoroughly of him nowadays that you almost crave it when its not around.

"No," Wolfwood corrects, "do you like him the way you like me?"

"You think I like you?" You tease, but he doesn't take kindly to that and jostles you in his lap a little and even goes so far as to jerk his head away from your touch.

"Woah, take it easy," you say, realizing he really didn't like that joke, "I was only playin' with you. I'm in your lap, aren't I?"

He softens a little. Lets go of a breath. He squeezes your waist, maybe in apology. To soothe the ache, you lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw, pepper them lightly down his neck.

"You didn't answer the question." He mumbles and you feel more than you see him flick his cigarette down and crush it with the heel of his shoe. He pulls you closer now that his other hand is free, slots you tight against him, and leans back to give you more room at his neck.

"Would you be mad if I said yes?" You murmur, carefully kissing at the pulse in his neck. You hide there.

"If i was?"

"You aren't good at sharing?" You coo, nudging your nose against his jaw, up to catch him in a quick kiss. He nips a little in answer.

"Not usually," he finally says.

"Not even with Vash?" You ask, because you know him better than he'd like to admit. And now you pull away to look at him.

To really look at him.

His eyes flick away, maybe bashfully, "yeah, well—I don't think I'm the one you have to worry about."

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He shrugs a little, "you think cause he puts up the goody-two-shoes act that it makes him good with sharing?" He asks, "why do you think he's gotten so pissed with me lately?"

You hum in acknowledgement. "Have you been rubbing it in?" You ask.

"Not intentionally." He says. And then when you look at him more pointedly, he admits, "not intentionally most of the time."

"Well, we'll see if Vash can share." You finally say and lean again to kiss him.

But in a sudden move, he grabs your chin, forces you still. Forces you to look at him.

"Only Vash, you hear me?" He says. His eyes are dark suns, all encompassing and imploring and fiery, "anyone else and I'll lose it."

You can't tell if it's a warning with the slight waver in his voice or a threat, with the growl behind the end of it. And then you remember scared dogs bite.

"Only Vash." You swear, "only you."

He settles a little, leans back again, and this time, when you kiss him, it's harder. More a claiming than a kiss — more a damning than a passion. He gives it back tenfold.

He litters you in little marks, in his scent, and drops his blazer around your shoulders in the morning. At breakfast, right in front of Vash, he catches you in a sharp, burn of a kiss.

More of a claiming. More of a damning.

***

When you sleep with Vash for the first time, it’s after a near-death experience. You were being reckless. The room is charged.

And Vash kisses you not like it’s the first time, but like it could be the last. He's the heat of a falling star, searing you, devouring you. He's all desperation. All starvation.

You'd thought with how sweet he usually was, that he'd be even more well behaved than Wolfwood, but that is far from the truth. He's a little untamed, untrained and clumsy and ferocious.

He whines as he takes you apart and you think he'd probably take praise well if you could teach him but right now he's just so— raw. So yearning and famished with it all.

You've no choice but to try and give everything you can in hopes of soothing him in some way. Filling the emptiness in him. And even still, you're aching and sore and torn-up after all is said in done.

Vash is bashful and a little remorseful about it come morning.

But you twine your arms around him and kiss him hard in reassurance. In encouragement.

He's passionate and all-encompassing. He's all your world in this moment.

You adore him.

Later, when Wolfwood sees the marks he left on you, he curses.

"Is he a fucking vampire?" He asks, tilting your head to the side to see the dark bruise in the side of your neck. But then he realizes how tender you are still, how aching, and he coos all soft.

Tells you he'll lick the wounds Vash gave you.

Says. I told you it wasn't me you had to worry about.

Vash avoids you and Wolfwood for nearly two days.

On the third, he finally breaks.

And when he does, he bundles you in his red coat after a long day, fists his hands in the collar of it to pull you towards him, and kisses you hard in front of Wolfwood, underneath the dark heavens above. He says he'll be back later.

Your lip throbs from the nip of his teeth.

(When Wolfwood kisses you shortly after, pushing Vash's coat from your shoulders, he soothes the sting with his tongue.)

***

For awhile, all the boys do is fight when they're around each other. It's getting to a point where Meryl is avoiding them at all costs—and you're just short of joining her.

The worst of it is on one of the hottest days in a long time.

Wolfwood says something he shouldn't—asks Vash if he could smell his cologne on you. Asks if he likes it.

It's too far. Usually, they bicker and fight over unrelated, stupid shit.

But that strikes a nerve.

And it's so fast that you don't even catch it, and suddenly Vash has Wolfwood pinned against the wall, hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

You always thought, maybe just on height and weight alone, that Wolfwood was stronger. But looking at Vash now, easily pinning him, you aren't quite sure.

"Oh, you wanna finally fight?" Wolfwood asks, baring his teeth, too.

And really, it's like when dogs fight.

It's fast and vicious. It sounds worse than it is—snarling and growling and wrestling with each other. It's artless. You've seen them both in a fight and this isn't—this isn't that. It's better, maybe, on Wolfwood's end. He's not trying to kill Vash. But maybe it's also worse, more personal, more brutal.

You hear Vash yelp—Wolfwood curses. More fighting.

You yell at them, the way you shout at fighting dogs, grab hold of Wolfwood around the collar and pull hard enough that he stops from his place over Vash, panting.

His mouth is bloody and it drips down onto Vash, his teeth still bared and crimson.

For a moment, they look at each other.

(And Vash thinks wildly, looking up at Wolfwood, sorry about the blood in your mouth. I think I wish it was mine. He tastes blood himself and wonders if it is Wolfwood's. If he really did bite him.

Wolfwood thinks, hit me again. If that's all you'll give me now, I'll take it. Wolfwood looks down at Vash, feels his heaving chest beneath him, and thinks, if I can only have you this close in a fight, I'll take that, too.)

You're cursing them both out, hauling Wolfwood off of him. You're furious and shaking and you're scolding them both.

You're fussing over them both, too, angrily wiping at their mouths and inspecting their wounds.

And they both think, maybe I should pick more fights, to see you like this, too, flustered and livid and worried. Doting. Adoring.

You shake your head at the both of them but—

You adore them.

***

It takes another man sniffing around you for them both to finally get on the same page.

And if it's one thing about Vash and Wolfwood, for all their bickering and differences, they know when to shut up and work together.

The moment another man starts chatting you up at the bar, they both go still and silent.

"You see what I'm seeing?" Wolfwood asks.

"Yeah," Vash says, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as the man manages to make you laugh. He leans all close to you. Vash has a near visceral reaction to jerk up from his seat beside Wolfwood.

Wolfwood grabs his arm.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin' then?" He asks.

Vash spares him only a glance—his eyes are trained on you and the man at your side. He grimaces. "Probably not. I don't wanna kill him."

Wolfwood barks out a laugh as Vash adds, "but I don't want him here, either."

"You wanna chase him off?" He asks. "Or you want me to be the bad guy?"

Vash swallows.

"She'll get mad at me for being an asshole. She'll be all pleased with you for being so good." He says and there's a dryness to his tone, a certain resignation or—

"Why would you do that?" Vash asks and he finally peels his eyes away long enough to look at Wolfwood.

To really look at him.

He shrugs, "I don't mind being in the dog house."

Vash eyes him.

Wolfwood smiles a little, "and I think she's hot when she's mad."

Vash frowns at that, a little twitch of his lips, almost in a pout. "Besides that—I meant—why would you do that for me?"

Wolfwood looks back over at the man at the bar, whose gotten even closer to you, his shoulder almost brushing yours. You're smiling and playing nice. Wolfwood's hackles rise. He bristles. He finally stands, too.

He never feels this way when he sees you with Vash. He never feels this way on the nights when Vash has you. In fact, the idea of it is—it's—

Kissing you after Vash. Knowing he'd just kissed you. Sinking his teeth into the ridges of marks Vash leaves on you, like he's trying to get his own taste. Or compare his teeth to Vash's. Maybe he growls and snaps at him and bares his teeth the next day, too, but he never feels like this.

Scared and mean and angry and—

"What, are you gonna make me fuckin' say it?" Wolfwood snaps.

"Say what?!"

Wolfwood slugs his arm hard. The flesh one, so he doesn't damn near break his knuckles doing it. And Vash yelps all high and Wolfwood wants to shake him and he also sorta wants to hit him again. And maybe he wants to kiss him stupid, too—

"I don't—" Wolfwood swallows hard, "I don't mind sharing. With you. With only you."

Wolfwood looks at him.

Really looks at him.

And then Vash turns the deepest shade of red.

Wolfwood's face gets hot all over, too. "Oh, Christ, blondie—did you really not know?"

"I don't know what I thought!" Vash says and his voice gets sorta high.

"Well—" Wolfwood shifts, uncharacteristically nervous, "what about—I mean, do you—are you okay sharing...with me?"

"At first, I thought I wasn't." Vash admits, "and I was jealous of—" he swallows, "I was jealous of both of you, if I think about it. You're just—you push my buttons more than she does—so. I took it out on you, mostly."

"Ah," Wolfwood says, "you took it out on her, too. Just in a different way."

Vash cheeks somehow get darker with color and Wolfwood laughs, realizing that he's—it's relief. He feels relieved, finally, as he laughs.

"You're a dumbass." He says to Vash.

And Vash smiles at him, crooked and boyish and stupidly handsome. That smile that Wolfwood has always liked.

Wolfwood then turns his gaze back to you, back to the man at the bar whose leaning in all close. He sees you tip away, adjusting your space. And he says;

"Now let's go get our girl."

The moment Wolfwood comes up behind you, you know there will be trouble unless this man doesn't leave quick — what you aren't expecting, is Vash to come up on the other side of the man. You tilt your head.

You feel a broad hand on your lower back, "he botherin' you?" Wolfwood asks, leaning all into your space.

The man sizes up Wolfwood, weighing his chances still and you can nearly feel Wolfwood stiffen and bristle behind you. He doesn't like being challenged.

"He was just seeing if I wanted a drink."

Vash, on the other side of the man says, "maybe he'd like it if I bought him a drink instead!" And though it's said brightly, it's almost a little too bright.

Vash's eyes gleam like the cold edge of bright moons.

You look between them for a moment as the man says, "alright, what the hell is this? You her boyfriend or something?"

"Or something." Wolfwood agrees casually.

"And whose this guy?" He snarks to Vash, "her other boyfriend?"

"Or something." Vash says, still smiling, and that really pisses the guy off.

"Would you back up?" He snaps and he shoves at Vash enough that he stumbles away a few steps. And before he can do something stupid, you put yourself between Wolfwood and the man.

"Leave him," you say lowly to Wolfwood, whose hackles are raised.

Wolfwood isn't looking at you, he's looking at the man behind you and his eyes are hard and cold and mean looking.

"Nick," you say, "I don't want a bar fight."

"Worried he can't handle me?" The man asks, "no wonder you were letting me chat you up."

Wolfwood jerks a little in your hold and Vash speaks up, laughing a little, "no reason to fight! Wouldn't want to clean you up off the floor."

Well, that does it.

The man swings on Vash, who yelps a little, but easily evades him. When he ducks, the man connects with another person behind Vash.

Damn it all.

The bar breaks out in pandemonium. Wolfwood shoves you beneath him and Vash works on ducking and diving out of the way of the first few swings sent his way. Shouting and glass shattering, raining down from above, makes you curse.

Wolfwood dodges the first punch thrown his way and he shoves you out of the way, before he takes a swing himself. When he connects, it's a nasty punch. Blood erupts.

Food is getting thrown. Alcohol sailing overhead, soaking the fighting crowd and angering them further. The poor bartender is hiding, ducking behind the counter and shivering.

You clamber atop the bar to get a look and—it's a wild crush of people, fighting and wrestling and breaking glass over each other's heads.

You put your fingers to your mouth and whistle—the loud, piercing kind that usually gets everyone's attention. This time, there's so much noise and shouting, that not a soul stops their fighting.

You pull out one of your pistols.

The shot thunders in the bar, makes your ears ring.

Everyone gasps and yells in surprise, instinctively ducking, covering their heads. But they all finally turn to look at you.

"Everyone out!" You shout, "take your fighting elsewhere!"

Grumbles erupt. But you hold up your pistol and shout again, with more force and fire, "out!"

The bar begins to stir, all the patrons dislodging and shifting about, detangling themselves from their fights. They meander in knots of people, twisting out the door slowly.

When Vash and Wolfwood appear again, they look disheveled and Vash's lip is busted. Wolfwood's sunglasses are shattered. You put your hands on your hips as you look down at them.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you two?" You snap.

Wolfwood reaches up to lift you right off the bar and back onto the ground in front of him. He shrouds you, "nurse our wounds?" He asks.

"You're a pain in the ass. I told you I didn't want a bar fight."

"He didn't throw the first punch, in his defense." Vash speaks up, but he's talking sorta funny because of his lip, which is swelling even now.

You sigh, "let me see."

Vash siddles up to you, a little sheepish, with that puppy-dog look on his face. He bends down a little, so you can get a better look at his face, dipping his head down in a show of submission.

Woflwood, behind you, whistles. "That's a good one, blondie."

"Hurts." Vash says as you carefully inspect it, debating if he'll need stitches or not.

"You gonna kiss it better?" Wolfwood asks.

"Why don't you?" You snark back, "since you two are finally working together it seems."

Vash smiles a little, which makes him wince, which makes you scold him. Wolfwood laughs, cooing a little, before he says, "alright, alright—lets get him patched up."

And you walk out with them at your skirts, hovering around you, dogging your steps. They follow you all the way back into your little room at an inn on the edge of the world.

And they settle in like they both own the damn place.

Wolfwood is tormenting Vash a little, whose whining and coming to your side for aid. But they're both—getting along, at least. And they're both demanding all your attention and taking up space in your room and—

And you adore them. You adore both of them, even with all their damn dogfights.

#nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #vashwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x you #wolfwood x you #vash the stampede x you #vash x you #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #cielo's writing!#cielo writes!

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kismetlotts · 8 months ago

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-`♡´- pervy Johnny Soap Mactavish with a somnophillia kink x afab femreader

cw: somnophillia, non consensual play, stalking, mentions of pillow humping, sex toys, pantie sniffing, mentions of sa (the word r*pe) cumming untouched, male masturbation, mentions of gagging, mentions of ejaculation tasting bad, non consensual pornography, mentions of regurgitating (no actual v*miting), mentions of violence (no actual violence)

Soap was a disgusting and dirty man. He came across the usual sweet caring soldier he always pretends to be. Someone eager to get things done, eager to do well but deep down he wasn’t as innocent and nice as the character he portrayed.

He was good at hiding the desires too. Quick to make a run to the bathroom to rub one out when you bend over, quickly getting in a few exercises before the next mission. Quiet enough to keep his grunts in his throat as his cock paints his underwear white at the sight of you.

He wouldn’t call it an obsession but you really did something to him. There was something about your dirt covered clothes with sweat and grime staining your skin that opened his eyes and made him fall still. You weren’t the first woman he’d worked with but you were the first he’d set his eyes on, the first he’d substantially claimed for himself.

Then things began to get bad, being on missions with you were too risky. Of course he’d jump a bullet for you and protect you consistently but he found himself getting distracted- more so than before.

Your body sprawled out in front of him, that hot little mouth that wouldn’t stop panting out orders. How could he not imagine you just like that in his bed naked?

He felt like he was back to being a teenager, one hand on his dick and the other clutching his mothers stolen magazine opened on page 3. It was embarrassing how horny he was and under what circumstances, so he did the mature thing and decided to try put an end to it.

Picking your front door lock was easy- too easy and if he had a good excuse as to why he was checking your lock he would alert you of it immediately. You work in the military, making enemies daily and the lock at your home is that easy to break? What if when you came home someone had let themselves in, waiting for you to come back and stab you in the throat.

Shaking off that thought, he’d bolt upstairs and snatch what he could without it being noticeable. Your panties- used and washed. The cushion he’d seen you ride and cum over because it’s normal to peek through your crushes window, right? An old vibrator, a bottle of your perfume, body lotion. All the things he could possibly think of that would turn him on, he’d taken. Shoved in his pocket before leaving and going back home.

And when he was home, oh was it fun. He’d strip off his clothes and lay on his bed, stringing your clean, cute, frilly little panties over his already hard dick. Maybe if he didn’t make a mess on them, he’d return them, knowing that something his throbbing cock touched would be so close to your sweet ol’ cunt.

Your used panties on the other hand, would lay on his face, your scent still prominent on the fabric and cascading into his nostrils. Maybe he’d lick a stripe down the middle, maybe he’d shove it all in his mouth and force himself to gag on it, but as of right now your smell was doing enough for him.

He’d coat his hands with your favourite lotion, the scent of you on the panties and the smell of your skin earning a grunt from his mouth: he’d probably sprayed your perfume around his room before this too-to get himself started and in the mood obviously.

It was like you where there, in his hands, over his body and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with you. As he thrusted into his hand he’d think of you, eyes darting to your pillow and vibrator. Would you ever think of him while you used them?

He strained his other hand out, reaching and turning on the sexy device and watching it flicker and pulse while the settings slowly got more powerful.

��Fuck..” He groaned, his fist shaking faster and faster to the thought of you. It made him fucking wild.

Did you have this against your clit imagining his tongue? Did you use this over and over, your back arching with eyes squinted shut while you thought of him? His name leaving your mouth? His name being screamed?

And with them thoughts hed cum, shooting high in the air, coating your panties and his stomach. He’d wash them later probably, or maybe just wipe it a bit and let the rest of the cum dry before slipping to back into your bedroom drawer.

Surprisingly though, it did nothing to tame his desires, if anything it worsened them. He’d sometimes stuff your dirtied panties in his pocket and bring them to work, talking to you- face to face- as his fingers clutched the soft material.

“I think i’m going crazy, things just seem to be going missing at my house.” You’d tell him gaining a small gasp of surprise from him. Your face looking away as you bite your lip anxiously.

“God that sucks, do ya think your misplacing em?” He’d ponder aloud, keeping his smirk in as he comforted you. Hates seeing how worried you get over this, so he’d support you as much as you he could. Deep down he wishes he could just hand them back over to you or leave them back in the place he found them but he couldn’t return everything. What if you found that little cum stain he’d left? He was certain you were a virgin and if you found that you’d definitely panic and get the wrong idea.

Johnny wasn’t a stalker or some sex driven psychopath who wants to rape and kill you. He’s just a friend who finds you attractive, and he needs a few things to help relieve himself. Isn’t that what friends do? Help each other out?

“I don’t know.. I’m sorry if this is too much information, but it’s usually my underwear that gets lost. I’m scared I have a stalker or something..” His cock throbbed as you admitted that to him, your plump lips quivering slightly as you attempted to mask your fear. Johnnys rough hand came and met your back giving you a soothing rub and he smiled as you. Earning a small jump and wide eyes in return.

“Don’t worry lassie, even if there is one i’m here to protect ya! I’m sure your knickers will turn up somewhere.. Probably just stuffing em elsewhere by mistake.”

His Scottish accent and meaningful words would always bring you a feeling of comfort, as the both of you were getting so close. The two of you arranged meet-ups with the team and without, you trained together and you really were building your friendship. Sometimes you’d even ask yourself if there was anything more there, maybe a possible romance but you didn’t want to ruin what you had at this moment and pushed your thoughts into the future: the chemistry was definitely there though. He was someone you trusted and everyone knew that, so it was no surprise when you were injured out in the field, the team ordered Soap to drive you home.

He’d watch as you pass out, over and over again most likely from tiredness, Price really pushed the team far with that last mission but as always, everyone buckled down and completed it efficiently. Soap occasionally leaned over bolting you awake with a gentle slap of your cheek because he knew he was losing control of himself. The sight of you unconscious next to him as he drove your car home made him mad- feral. Such a sweet innocent girl totally oblivious to the white knuckles that clenched your steering wheel, and the outline of his hard cock that stood upright as he drove.

Your house wasn’t far from his- walking distance in fact, and funnily enough you had to drive past his house in order to get to yours. Johnnys eyes flicked to the light spilling through the window coming from his bathroom en-suite. He exhaled a sigh, cursing himself out under his breath as he pulled up and onto the drive.

The team trusted him to drive you home safely, to make sure you were safe and asleep in your own home but how would they even know he brought you here. He only needed to pop in quickly anyway. The seatbelt hit the side of your car and he took the keys out and left quickly, glancing back at the windshield and stopping before he reached his door.

What if someone was following the two of you and leaving you out here alone could result in your death? What if you vomited and chocked and he wasn’t there to save you? What if- But deep down he knew he’d bring you inside regardless.

Swooping you up in his arms bridal-style and carrying you inside, you disliked being lifted and he knew this but he couldn’t wake you now. You’d probably tell him something like “It’s fine, i can drive home anyway. Don’t worry.” And he wanted you with him. Plopping you down on his bed, he walked over to the door, before flipping the switch and walking back over to the bed.

His eyes flickered to your body, the soft fall and rise of your chest and the obvious tent in his military cargos. It was dangerous having you here and even he knew that. Luckily enough the items he had stolen were stashed under his bed however for some reason he wished they were out, scattered around you without you knowing.

His hands reached out to brush the hair on your face out the way and tucked it behind your ear, revealing your face and the slight drool dripping from the crack of your lips.

“Pretty lil thing aren’t ya? Hm?” He asked you in a whisper despite there not being a response. He felt as your body warmed under his hand and hummed in delight, his thumb swatting the saliva away and tracing the soft skin of your cheeks. His stomach fluttering like a butterfly house.

Everything felt tight, the room, his cargos, your shirt and he found himself slipping out of control. Hands rubbing the smooth skin of your tummy and chest beneath your top careful not to graze the small wound, before pulling the material up just below your tits, you weren’t wearing a bra, his eyes settled on your skin.

“How fucking adorable.” He growled, and it wasn’t long before he wanted and required more.

Now, he wasn’t going to fuck you or taste you as much as he wanted too. You were going to be awake when he did that, he needed to hear you moan his name, push his head deeper between your thighs, or fuck back onto his cock shamelessly needing to reach your own orgasm. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with you now. You were his little puppet and he wanted to make a show out of you, all for himself.

His hands rushed to his cargos quickly fishing his phone and the panties out of his pockets, throwing his phone on the duvet and hiding your panties under the bed with the rest of them. God he couldn’t fucking wait any longer.

He started unbuckling his belt and pushing them down to his ankles along with his boxers. Smiling down at you as his dick leaked like a broken tap and sprung upright. He cupped it, stroking it a few times his eyes closing at how much he’d been waiting for this. The amount of nights he had laid in the same spot as you were, jerking himself just like he was doing now.

His hand let go of himself watching as he twitched crazily in need of something to fuck. He could get out that cushion again, the one you used to ride naked against. He’d made a sweet little hole in that one and left plenty of stains and could add one more right in front of you, but he wanted you.

His hand reached out grabbing your chin and dragged your face along to the other side. The warm air from your nose hitting his palm and he slowly pulled your jaw down, opening your mouth. His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight and he itched his body closer, placing his swollen tip against your mouth.

His hand tapped himself against your lips leaving a small string of precum as he leaked over your lips. The sight was heavenly and he bit his lip trying his best not to lose control and start fucking into your mouth. His precum glossed your lips and something in him snapped. He couldn’t give up a sight like this and keep it as a memory-his other hand dashed over grabbing his phone.

It was just material he’d use for later, you would understand. His phone snapped a few pictures of your pretty little face and his dick against your lips, he even videotaped himself edging over you and watching as his precum dripped off and fell on you. His fingers dug into your mouth and grabbed your tongue before tugging it out slowly careful not to wake you, groaning at the sight.

“Sweet little angel..” He moaned. His tip hit your tongue and whimpers fell out his mouth at the feeling. It wasn’t as wet as he’d imagined but his dick made up for that with its own wetness. He jerked himself faster, legs trembling almost as he felt himself get close. Next time he’d cum in your mouth. He couldn’t risk waking you up or god forbid making you choke, it was a hazard and he didn’t want to take his chances.

His breathing became jagged and he stroked faster and faster, his aim worsening as he felt your warm breath hover over his cock. With one last tug he came undone, shooting white all over your shirt and on your chin and neck. Missing your mouth luckily. His thumb swept up a bead of his cum from your chin and he transferred it onto your tongue knowing that when you awoke you’d taste him, his diet wasn’t the best and he probably didn’t taste wonderful but he was too horny to care.

Johnny took a step back to admire his work with smile on his face and he took a few pictures of the end result. He found you so so beautiful like that, all messed up and solemnly relaxed. He wished he could stay in this moment forever but unfortunately the sound of his phone chiming brought him out of his trance. He’s got to get you cleaned up and home.

He slipped back into his cargos again and refastened his belt still breathing heavy from his orgasm. Slowly he lifted you back up and carried you to the bathroom propping you up on the counter. He felt as your head hit his shoulder and he let out a small laugh before lifting up your shirt, threading your arms out carefully and throwing it into his wash basket, blending in with his shirts similar in colour.

He rinsed a facial towel under warm water for a few seconds before whipping off himself off you, trying to be gentle and not to wake you but taking subtle glances at your breasts as he cleaned you up. Your skin was soft and warm under his touch and he found himself already becoming hard again but he ignored it for now, he’d pleasure himself later with the new photos he’d taken.

“Mmmm.. Johnny?” A voice mumbled tiredly and close to his ear and he froze sensing you were awake. The smell of him sent your stomach into swirls and your head flipped back. Rubbing your eye’s and opening them slightly. Johnny watched as your face scrunched up in disgust while your tongue lapped the roof of your mouth, swallowing down the unfamiliar taste. Really, he should be ashamed of what he did, it was perverted of him but it just turned him on more, making his cock harder in his underwear.

“You awake? Sorry bonnie, I was driving you home and you vom’ed over yourself. I was going to wake you but figured you needed some sleep. Just popped into mine and got you cleaned up.” Your eyes held his, so innocent and pure and blatantly unaware of the previous activities. But as you took in your surroundings you gave him a small smile and met his eyes once more.

“Thanks. I can drive myself home now don’t worry about me.” You mumbled pushing off the counter. Soap was about to protest but the throb of his dick kept him quiet and he cleared his throat trying his best not to glance back at your tits.

And with his small throat clearing you realised you were shirtless. Your face instantly burning red as you reached up to cover yourself, beginning to form a sentence of apology or something alongside that but he cut you off shaking his head.

“Don’t worry lass it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I’ll get you one of my shirts to put on. Threw yours in the bin since it was covered in dirt and blood anyway.” He walked over to his wardrobe pulling out a t-shirt and threw it your way with a comforting smile and you caught it quickly.

“Thank you Johnny.” You smiled, slipping it over yourself and walking over to join him in the bedroom. It was quite an open space and you smiled as the air smelt of him with a subtle hint of something familiar, smelt similar to your perfume but you shrugged it off. His hands rummaged over the drawer and picked out your keys, tossing them to you. He grabbed his phone off the bed shutting it off and began walking you down the stairs towards the front door. You took a step outside the cold air hitting your bare arms before turning back to meet his eyes, there was something different in them but you couldn’t place what.

“Drive home safely. Any problems give me a call.” His hand tapped the back of his phone and smiled at you widely, you nodded back to him smiling again and thanking him for cleaning you up before unlocking the car and slipping inside. The air didn’t smell funky or like vomit which was a good thing and you checked the seats seeing not a single drip on them. You breathed out a happy sigh, putting the car into drive.

Completely and utterly unaware to his dirty and sexual shenanigans and what photos he was currently scrolling through as he drove.

#johnny mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap smut #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x reader smut #soap mw2 #cod x reader #cod soap #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut

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oceantornadoo · 8 months ago

Note

Hiii can I request one of the boys (or all) comforting medic/surgeon reader, who’s in their unit, for not being able to save someone and reader goes into a depressive episode because reader has known them since they got recruited. They’re doing their best to cheer reader up, but it’s hard to budge through the stress of not being able to save a life. Thank you 🥹

this is not poly!141 so each blurb is that character x f!reader. some are established relationship, some are just unlabeled.

ao3 link

simon:

simon riley was a quiet man. that's why he liked you, always talking just because you were eager to share, never expecting him to reciprocate. he knew he was blunt, gruff, and (a bit) unlikeable, so it always seemed safer to respond in as little words as possible. on days like today though, he just had to say something. you hadn't said a word to anyone in a week (he checked) and stopped coming to every "optional" friendly hangout after a rough mission. you were holed up in your room ever since your patient had died, and he meant to do something about it.

"what." you said gruffly to the person knocking at the door. "'s me, dove." simon. "go away." instead of listening, you heard the door open. you turned around in your bed to face the wall, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "i'm not good company right now, si." you could practically hear him shrug. he closed the door with a sigh, the silence between you two enveloping the room in a cocoon. instead of hearing your desk chair sqeak, you heard a rustle of clothing, tac gear dropping to the floor. almost as if he was taking off his clothes? but there was no way, this was ghost, who wore a stupid mask and stupid gloves that always made you wonder about the veins underneath and-

and suddenly simon riley was climbing under the covers with you, clothed in only his boxers. you knew because he was everywhere, skin on skin, wedging one large, scarred thigh between yours. his left hand under your pillow, right hand sneaking its way to your waist. he drew shapes on your skin with his calloused hands, the only sound in the room the scrape of his skin on yours. "we'll get through this, yeah?" you nodded against him, not trusting yourself to speak, tears caught in your throat. simon nuzzled himself into your neck, and for the first time that week, you slept through the night.

johnny:

usually, you loved the sound of johnny's laughs, boisterous and fun, bringing energy into every conversation. this week, though, you couldn't stomach it. you stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped shoving him when he tried to put his arm around you, stopped engaging in his talk on comms when you had the mantle of field medic. you cringed when you saw the spark in his eyes dampen, but you couldn't seem to care when a similar image of your comrade dying on the field took a starring role in your nightmares.

this was your second nightmare tonight, the image of your comrade's bloody body, sinking into an open grave. you could almost feel the packed dirt in your throat, succumbing to the grave you put her in. and suddenly you were awake, blinking at the darkness of the room. you were so tired, emotionally drained, you didn't even think about where you were walking, just knew you were leaving your room. and suddenly, you were knocking on johnny's door, knowing he'd be up at this time. he swung open the door, misinterpreting what you were after. "bonnie. knew ye'd give me a late night call soon." you rolled your eyes at his joke, feeling an unwilling smile creep onto your face.

"not that kind of night, johnny." he winked anyways, ushering you into his room. "glad ta see you smile, lass." that dimmed your mood. you suddenly scrambling changing your mind. "well i just wanted to say hi but you're busy so i'll leave you to it-" johnny covered your mouth with his hand, effectively cutting off your thoughts. "up ye go." you squealed as he picked you up, depositing you onto his bed. he locked the door and turned off the light, keeping a nightlight on just for you. "yer gonna tell me about all those thoughts in that pretty head of yours, hm?" you nodded, and felt the weight lighten off your chest for the first time in weeks.

john:

john was your rock. a fellow higher-up, hardened by war and bittered by reality, wrapped up in a fatherly manner. he was all knowledge and hard truths with his men, but with you? on a day like today? after standing in blood for three hours, using half of the base hospital's resources to try to stop what should have been a typical infection that was actually poison? that fatherly attitude could shove it.

"need to search your office for poison, doctor." john was a shadow at your office door. "yeah, sure, whatever." you needed to put in requests for all the supplies used, finalize the death certificate, launch the investigation. the last thing you cared about was john following protocol. you didn't register the captain's movements until he was behind your chair, leaning down in your ear. "come on." he took your hand's off your laptop's keys, placing them in your lap. "the boys will be here any minute, love. come on." you let him guide you, going numb at the feeling. the reality that your patient had been poisoned, targeted, and you couldn't do anything about it was suddenly hitting you. john was making you stand up, but you were in a trance, just a body he could move however he wanted.

you blinked and you were standing in his office, looking at his chair. "go on. i'll make an exception just for you." you shook your head, unable to explain why not. "you need to sit, love." you shook your head again. the medical part of your brain told you the shock was hitting. john sat in his chair instead, guiding you between his legs. you looked down at him, at his hands on your waist. making a split second decision, you ungracefully collapsed sideways into his lap. john grunted but said nothing, adjusting your feet to hang off the chair. your arms circled his thick neck, hands rubbing at his beard. he took off his hat, laying it on the table, then kissed your forehead. you tucked your head into his neck, and finally, finally, let yourself cry.

kyle:

gaz was loveable and cocky, which you were okay with. you called him kyle to humble him, a playful nudge. he called you sweetheart right back, that accent of his playing with all the right vowels just to rile you up. but today, two days after the death of your comrade that you should have saved, you didn't feel sweet at all. not one bit.

"its after 11. should be in bed by now." he was at the door of your office, taking in the heaping piles of medical reports on your desk.

"kyle, im busy." you huffed, not bothering to look up. your comrade's autopsy report was staring right back at you, clinical notes on how she could have been saved if you had just had the supplies.

"sweetheart-" you almost slammed your pen on your desk. "don't call me that, kyle. i'm not in the mood." he wasn't deterred, warm eyes swimming with understanding. "this about what happened?" he mumured in a soft voice, like he was comforting a kitten instead of you, a dark hole of guilt. "i just-" you made the mistake of making eye contact, of seeing how kind he looked. the tears started rushing out and you couldn't stop them. you hadn't cried when she died, so maybe it was finally time. "i just keep looking at these notes about what i could have done, if things were different and gaz, idontknowwhattodo..."

you trailed off, embarrassed. calling him gaz was a sign of weakness, of this whole facade crumbling down. "come 'ere.” you stood up and walked between his open arms, a small laugh erupting as he overexaggerated how heavy you were. "you did more than anyone on that field could have done. and you're still sweet to me. even when you're a bit of a snotty mess." he kissed your forehead then, and you weren't even going to touch what that meant. all that mattered were gaz's strong arms, holding your waist and rubbing small circles as you put all your physical and emotional baggage on him. and for now, being held was all you needed.

had to let this one simmer for a bit. thanks anon <3

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 10 months ago

Text

In A Week's Time: Elliott x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex, creampies

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum’s better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring’s fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let’s not get started about the starfruit patches to which you’ll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he’s used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean’s shore. The writer’s eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

“My darling?” he mumbled behind you.

“It’s summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!” you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

“I’ll make coffee,” he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie’s ranch.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre’s store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm’s soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

“Tired, my darling?” he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

“Not yet,” you hummed.

“Good! I have wonderful news I’d love for you to hear,” he chimed.

“Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?”

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

“Do you remember the genre of book you’ve inspired me to write, my love?” Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott’s cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn’t been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would’ve questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

“It’s this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read.”

“Oh!” You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. “I… Romance I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but…”

“Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm.”

“Romance,” you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

“It’s a very short notice for such big news, but I’ve been invited to do a reading tour for the book you’ve inspired me to write.”

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

“You’re leaving Saturday,” you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

“I am. But only for one week, my radiance.” He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. “Will you be alright? I’ll be gone for one week and it’s already the start of a new crop season for us-”

“Go on it! This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? I’ll be fine!”

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

“I’ll be here for the rest of the week, though. I’ll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals.”

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

“When do you leave Saturday?”

“I believe before noon.”

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he’s given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he’ll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other’s limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott’s button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott’s passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he’s able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn’t know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott’s strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott’s lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott’s nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“I hardly think it’s fair for you to still be dressed while you’re stripping off all of my clothes,” you pointed out.

“My dearest, I believe you’re right. How rude of me.”

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail’s pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott’s hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott’s graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

“Elliott,” you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

“My dear (Y/n), what do you need?” he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

“You,” you whimpered.

“And what do you want me to do?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

“I want you to fuck me into this mattress.”

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband’s cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott’s cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott’s hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott’s back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott’s eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott’s cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott’s cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn’t help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down… just a bit.

“You’ll do great out there. I promise,” you smiled. “Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you’ll do great.”

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre’s, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid’s pendant… You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid’s pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn’t here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It’s summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

“I promise to write to you every day, my radiance,” he murmured into your ear.

“Every day?”

“Every day without fail.”

“I love you, Elliott.”

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

#stardew valley #elliott x reader #elliott x farmer

182 notes · View notes

newtkive · 1 year ago

Text

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 2 - drama queen core

summary: minho's drama finally catches up with him, but newt becomes a hero.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

THE GLADE

[ 12:08 PM ]

y/n: gm pookies

newt: it’s the afternoon.

y/n: yeah well

ur east coast

newt: so are you y/n

y/n: FINE BAD MORNING THEN ARE U HAPPY?

minho: drama queen is awake

newt: you’re the drama queen min let’s be fr

minho: u want me to die be honest

newt: see .

tommy: hey guys :3 been waiting for you all

y/n: awwww tommy <3 gm

tommy: morning sweetums

minho: ew stop

newt: how did you sleep?

tommy: good! used my new heated pillow

newt: not you

minho: not you

tommy: wtf

WHO THEN?? THERES LIKE 7 OTHER PPL IN HERE

minho: he means y/n

and there’s 4 other people not including newt and y/n dumbass

y/n: oh

why just me????

newt: cuz you stayed up til 6 am

y/n: ..

how do you know that

newt: i saw you were active on discord

gally: doesn’t that mean you were awake too then

newt: ok and?

minho: thats crazy newt

newt: no it isn’t

i just casually saw it

y/n: hehe

im ok i need to sleep more. sims 4 was really consuming me

why were you awake??

newt: up for work

minho: you get on discord before work?

chronically online..

newt: can you choke and pass out and hit your head please

minho: THE WAY U WANT ME DEAD IS INSANE

y/n: he’s gotta check on his discord hoes before hitting the grind

newt: there are no discord hoes

unless you count thomas

and i don’t

tommy: well why not

newt: because you disgust me

tommy: love u too :3<3

minho: y’all about to kiss aren’t you

newt: never say that shit again im outside your door with a b*mb

minho: why censor it

just blow me up it’s my grandmas house anyway. u want to jump her that bad????

gally: blow that bitch up i say

y/n: HELLO???!,!!

gally: minho not grandma

she loves me cuz im so tall

minho: tall people always gotta remind you they’re tall 😒

like we get it bigfoot

gally: shut up tinkerbell

y/n: you’re somewhat tall minho

minho: any man under 6’0 is considered short

y/n: yeah but newt is 6 ft trapped in a 5’10 body so not totally true

newt: what does that even mean

minho: give me a break

i can tell you exactly what that means

she wanna hit

newt: stop

tommy: don’t get his hopes up

newt: dude

stfu

y/n: what newt said

gally: can we appreciate the only one actually over 6 ft here

minho: no.

tommy: im the same height as newt!!!!

y/n: yea but ur like 3 ft trapped in a 5’10 body tommy not the same

tommy: oh ..

minho: kind of real

newt: can someone kick gally i’m tired of seeing his fucking name on my phone

gally: then turn your phone off don’t you have old ladies to tend to at the library

newt: yeah and they all love me

y/n: so real

if i was old i’d go in there and imagine you’re my young boyfriend and cling to everything u say

tommy: true im the old ladies

y/n: LMAO

minho: write a fanfic y/n why don’t you

newt: yeah you both are old and not beating the dementia allegations

y/n: IM THE YOUNGEST HERE

ur just mad you’re old as dirt

tommy: youth has left you newt and it has turn you bitter in your old age.

minho: thomas knows big words who knew

newt: which word in that sentence was big??

y/n: shut up minho

minho: wtf did i do

y/n: idk but i imagine you sitting there typing on your little phone and i got pissed

minho: WHAT???!.‘wKWHFO

newt: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

yeah chubby little fingers hitting the wrong letters on his iphone 8

minho: im leaving

tommy: dont leave i forgive you for what you said

minho: i don’t give a damn

y’all mad y’all are all fake im the realest i’ve been prophesizing and reading scriptures 7000 years before y’all fake asses were born be so for real right now

y/n: not reading that

congrats

or sorry for what happened idk

about to drink my coffee in a wine glass

tommy: just drink wine

newt: it’s noon tommy??

tommy: ok and?

newt: explains a lot

minho: no coffee for me this new year only water and pussy juice fr fr

[ newt removed minho from the group ]

tommy: woah

y/n: woah..

newt: i can’t take it anymore

alby: How did you get that access..?

newt: don’t worry about it

in times of need i have to step in like that

y/n: hi alby!

alby: Hey y/n!

tommy: you’re such a hero newt

gally: that was deserved

who wants to play minecraft rn

y/n: me!!

alby: I’ll play, I’m off work today.

y/n: let’s go to the desert i want a camel

gally: alright but then the caves after i wanna mine

newt: if you mine with her you gotta bring extra food and storage when she dies so you can pick up the fallen items

gally: i forget you’re her designated babysitter

y/n: oh please no he isn’t

and i’ll bring my own food

newt: you always say that and then leave it in the stove oven

y/n: WELL I WONT THIS TIME

newt: sure ok

i’ll get on after work

[ alby added minho to the group ]

minho: when i get you.

newt: why did you add him back alby

alby: He was harassing me.

newt: be a man and take it

gally: im leaving

[ gally left the group ]

minho: im going to throw up and die

newt: im staying out of this

minho: (guy who caused it) im staying out of this

y/n: why does gally alwyas leave 😔

newt: why question a gift from the heavens

tommy: get online y/n gally is attacking my dirt house w a pickaxe :((((

y/n: NO IM COMING

minho: im coming to your work newt

newt: okay im locking the door early then

minho: i’ll smash through the glass idc

newt: i’m leaving my shift is over at 1 today.

minho: i’ll use life360 on you

newt: i deleted that app

minho: i’ll stand in the middle of the street

newt: ok let me position my car in front of you

just come to my apartment and we can play w them on pc and xbox

minho: …. fine but i hate your guts

newt: fine

y/n: HURRY GALLY IS ATTACKING MY SHED NOOOOWWW

newt: i’ll just rebuild it

minho: i’ll set it on fire just wait

268 notes · View notes

lilacmingi · 1 year ago

Text

CAPTIVE

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Pirate!Seonghwa x fem reader

Word count: 7,803

Note: Another imagine from 2022 from Wattpad! Seonghwa is a major jerk at first oof but he softens up <3

You woke up to the most maddening sound, like a commotion in the streets. You tried to ignore it, assuming it was just some drunkards in the streets. You attempted to use your pillow to block out some of the noise, which didn't work too well seeing as it only muffled the pestilent sounds.

When the noise persisted, you sat up, grumbling to yourself as you got out of bed, going to investigate the continuous racket. Shuffling to the front door, you flung it open only to be met with chaos. Families were tied up outside their houses as they were being raided, those that weren't tied up were running rampant in the streets shrieking and shouting for help. Men dressed in dingy loose-fitting shirts and cropped trousers ran about in the streets laughing and howling like lunatics. Some held large swords, using it to slash ropes around crates, others held muskets, using them to threaten civilians.

Your throat went dry as you grasped the situation unfolding in front of you. These men weren't regular thieves, they were pirates and your town was being looted.

You hurried to close your front door, only to be stopped by one of the men who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"'Scuse me, lass, but it seems we haven't been in your house yet." The grimy pirate grinned wickedly, showing off his stained teeth.

"No." You spoke firmly.

"No?" He raised a brow. "You've got moxie don't you, little lady?"

"Leave."

He let out a dry chuckle. "If you don't keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, your supplies won't be the only thing I take back to the ship."

Your face immediately contorted, a deep frown of disgust pulling at your lips.

"Kiss my—"

The clicking sound of a musket made you shut up immediately.

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you."

You gulped. "Alright. I'll let you in."

The pirate moved to take a step inside, and when he did, you slammed the door in his face, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Why you." He growled, advancing towards you.

You didn't have a chance to escape or even fight back. The pirate yanked you outside into the dusty streets, pulling a rope from his satchel before tying it tightly around you, your arms constricted by the abrasive cable. He shoved you down, forcing you to sit on your knees in the dirt.

"Maybe that'll teach you a lesson." He hissed before stepping inside your house.

At that point, you could do nothing but sit idly and allow that sea rat to ransack your home.

Minutes passed and the man stepped out with an armful of supplies. You saw spices, a few of your candles, and even soap, which was odd because the plunderer in front of you didn't look like he had bathed a day in his life.

"Look at you sitting there all defenseless like that." He taunted.

You clenched your jaw.

"I've just raided your home and there's not a thing you can do about it." He smirked, sticking his face up in yours.

That was the last straw.

Without thinking, you thrust your head forward, giving the man a harsh and powerful headbutt. The man clutched his head in agony, the stolen items falling to the ground.

"That's it. You asked for it!" He growled, lunging for you.

He was swiftly jerked backwards by the arm before he could lay a finger on you. Someone had reached out and grabbed your assailant's upper arm. You glanced over to see who your savior was.

He was tall with a slender frame and carried a sort of superior energy. His dark hair was mostly pushed away from his face, save for a few dark strands hanging over his forehead. He wore a long cream colored coat with a corset of some sort around the abdomen area. He donned black gloves on his hands, black pants and matching boots. His face remained placid but firm as he addressed the pirate.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"She headbutted me, Captain!"

Captain? Crap.

This "Captain" turned to you, a faint smirk of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Looks like we've got a feisty one on our hands." He said, bending down to your eye level.

You spat in his face in response.

He closed his eyes in mild annoyance as he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe his face. He stood upright, gazing down at you sharply.

"Put her on the ship."

"Yes, Captain."

"And clean up that mess." He gestured to the fallen (stolen) items on the ground.

"Yes, Captain."

The objects that had fallen to the ground were gathered and tossed into a sack. Still tied up, you were jerked to your feet by the grubby pirate and shoved forward down the street.

"This is absurd!" You voiced. "You have no right to be doing this!"

"We're pirates, dear. We don't care about rights."

You jerked in his grip, wanting desperately to escape.

"I don't even have shoes on." You complained.

"That's the least of your problems." The captain spoke up.

That's when the panic really set in.

What was going to happen to me? You thought.

You then began to think of the worst possible scenarios. You could end up locked in the brig, fed to the sharks, tortured, or worse. These men could do things to you—things that you would by no means consent to.

You could feel the blood drain from your face at the thought.

Next thing you knew, you were standing on a dock, the weathered wood pressing into the bottoms of your bare feet. The captain of the ship stepped up the gangplank, shouting orders to the crew still on board.

"Prepare for departure!"

He then withdrew a pistol from its holster strapped around his waist. He held the gun up to the sky and gave off two shots, the loud sound resonating in the air.

"Bring our hostage on board." He ordered the pirate who still had a tight hold on the ropes tied around you.

"Yes, Captain." He spoke, shoving you forward.

You stumbled up the gangplank and onto the ship. The crew was hard at work, moving hastily around the deck, preparing to depart from the dock.

Moments later, groups of grimy men boarded the ship, their arms laden with items that were looted from innocent civilians' homes. You frowned, saddened at the though of all those poor people with barren shelves and messy houses.

"Get a move on, will ya?" The pirate complained behind you.

You moved forward, the rough wood of the deck scraping against your bare feet.

"Captain, where should I put her?" He asked.

"Tie her to the mainmast."

"As you wish."

You tried fighting back as you were dragged towards the large, wooden beam, but it was useless. You weren't strong enough to break free, but that didn't stop you from trying. Screams of protest left your mouth as you thrashed around, making it as difficult as you could for the pirate trying to keep hold of you.

The captain merely stood off to the side and watched in amusement. A look of satisfaction spreading across his features as you were ultimately tied to the main mast. A second crew mate hurried over with thick ropes in his hands, assisting in fastening you to the mast. The first pirate that had harshly escorted you onto the ship insisted on being the one to tie you up, making sure the ropes were uncomfortably snug around you.

He gave you a nasty grin when you shifted uneasily under the abrasive restraints, content at your discomfort. You knew this would only be the beginning of your suffering.

Your entire upper body was pressed against the mainmast, you weren't able to move at all. You kept your eyes cast downwards, staring at the boards.

Captain Seonghwa strode towards you, his boots thumping heavily against the wooden deck as he held a shotgun in one hand.

"Look at me." He ordered.

You kept your gaze low, not daring to look up at him.

"Did you not hear me? I said look at me." He repeated a little more harshly.

You then saw the barrel of a shotgun in your sights. The end was pressed under your chin, lifting your face up to look at Seonghwa.

You glared at him with the most hatred you could muster, keeping a brave face.

His hard expression faltered momentarily at the intensity of your stare. He was quick to recover, putting on that same tough guise as he glowered down at you.

"You filthy pirates think you can take whatever you want." You hissed.

"We can."

"Not without consequences."

"You sure have a mouth on you." He commented, ignoring your statement as he looked you over, seemingly contemplating something. "I wonder what I should do with you." He murmured, thoughtfully, his head tilting to the side. "I could blow your head off right now... or I could keep you around for entertainment."

Your face twisted in distaste.

"You're disgusting."

He let out an amused chuckle. "I didn't mean it like that, dear. But, if you're offering, I can't say no."

You spat at him for a second time, your saliva landing right on his perfectly polished boot. His top lip curled into a snarl as he moved the barrel of his gun into your mouth.

"You'd better keep that to yourself."

Now you were scared. Seonghwa could see that. He smiled in satisfaction, lowering his weapon.

"If you don't keep that mouth of yours shut, I'll gag you with a piece of cloth."

As much as you wanted to make a snappy remark, you didn't want your speaking privileges to be taken away. You had more quips to use on Captain Seonghwa.

He turned on his heel, facing his crew.

"Prepare the sails!" He ordered, harshly. "Let's get out of here."

You watched as he strode away, going to steer the ship away from the docks. The only thing you could do was sit and watch as the giant vessel departed from the port, your ravaged town getting smaller and smaller, not looking away until it was nothing but a mere dot.

The crew busied themselves around you, not paying any mind to you at all.

So this is how it's gonna be until they let me go... or kill me.

You dropped your head, letting out a sigh. There was no use in trying to find a way out of this situation. You didn't have anything with you to cut the ropes and you surely wouldn't be able to wiggle your way out of them. You'd be stuck like this for... well, you weren't sure.

At some point, the crew mates started making their way to their sleeping quarters, the main deck getting emptier by the second. You watched as they passed you by, not acknowledging you. It wasn't long before Seonghwa walked by, heading to the captain's quarters.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed. Goodnight." He responded, casually.

Just then, a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

"You wouldn't dare leave me here overnight."

"Try me." He smirked.

You were left outside.

As if your situation wasn't bad enough, it ended up raining—hard. You were left freezing cold, soaking wet, and shivering. Since you were kidnapped in the middle of the night, the only thing you had on was your nightgown, which was very thin and providing you no warmth at all. For the time being you were thankful for the ropes, as they were giving you a little protection and warmth.

You were uncomfortable and cold, yet somehow, you were able to sleep. You assumed you got so tired that you dozed off without even knowing.

You woke up to yelling, causing your body to jolt as you were abruptly pulled from your sleepy state.

Seonghwa was scolding some of his crew, telling them they need to move faster, griping that they weren't tying knots fast enough. Once he was done with his rant, he stomped off, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

The three pirates muttered amongst themselves as they tried to figure out what to do. They were trying to tie up the sails, which requires you to tie a bowline knot. This group seemed to not know how to do that.

"Pardon me." You called out to them, keeping your voice low.

One of them turned to you with a confused expression, wondering why you were speaking to them.

"You're not tying that knot correctly." You told him.

"Why should we listen to a prisoner?" One of them asked harshly.

"Yeah. We wouldn't listen to a prisoner, let alone a woman."

"Fine. Get yelled at by your captain. I don't care." You responded, nonchalantly.

"How... how do you tie this knot for the sails?" The one with the rope in his hands asked, softly.

"Your buddies there don't seem to wanna listen to what I have to say, so just forget it."

"No! Please. I'll listen."

You then explained to him what to do, all three of them hanging on to every word—even the ones that snapped at you.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had noticed you conversing with his crew. He also noticed how they listened to you. He was surprised to see that you knew what you were talking about.

"So you can do something besides spit and run your mouth." He remarked, catching your attention.

"My dad worked with ships a lot." You responded, casually. "I know almost everything there is to know about sailing."

Seonghwa hummed to himself, looking at you thoughtfully before walking off.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against the main mast. Visions of your home flashed in your mind. Your warm bed, your kitchen stocked with food, and the feeling of safety that came with your abode.

Heavy footsteps approaching pulled you from your daydream—it was Seonghwa.

"You just might prove to be useful."

You narrowed your eyes at him, tilting your head in curiosity. "Does that mean you'll untie me?"

"Oh, I'll untie you—but, in case you have any ideas about jumping ship,"

You then felt something cold brush against your ankle, followed by a click sound.

"I'll have a leash to tug you back with."

Glancing down, you saw a metal cuff around your ankle, a chain laid out on the deck.

"You're chaining me up like a dog?"

"It's the only way I'll be able to keep an eye on you. If I let you loose on my ship, there's no telling what you'll do."

You pressed your lips together, holding back your irritation. He was right and you hated that.

He pulled out his cutlass, using it to slice the ropes, the thick cords falling at your feet. His eyes lingered on your figure as his tongue ran across his bottom lip.

"I was going to offer you some proper clothes, but I rather like you in this little nightgown."

The gown had long sleeves and went down to your ankles, covering you well, but his comment made you feel vulnerable and exposed.

"You're sick."

He snickered in response, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I suppose the right thing to do is to provide you with proper clothing. Follow me."

He used the chain to tug you forward, which earned him a displeased scowl from you.

He led you to the captain's cabin where he started rummaging through his wardrobe. You glanced around the space, noticing a shelf with a plethora of rolled up maps and a few books. There was a desk near the front windows of the ship. On that desk were papers, maps, books, and mapping tools.

"Here."

You turned to see Seonghwa with some clothes in his hands.

"Hurry and change."

When he didn't move, you looked up at him, expectantly.

"Don't worry. I won't look."

You gave him a skeptical look as he turned away from you. You took a few steps away from him before changing.

"I never got your name." He spoke up, his back still turned.

"You never asked."

He let out a short scoff. "So, are you gonna tell me your name or should I call you whatever I please?"

"My name is Y/n."

"Y/n." He repeated, testing the name out.

You didn't think he deserved to know your name, but with the alternative you were given, you didn't really have a choice. There's no telling what he would have called you had you refused.

The moron supplied you with clothes, but neglected to consider the fact that there was a cuff on your ankle which prevented you from being able to put on pants. He removed the cuff and turned his back only long enough for you to change.

"I'm done." You announced once you finished changing into the clothes Seonghwa had given to you.

The shirt was loose, but comfortable, as were the pants, but he had given you a belt to help with that. The metal cuff was clamped back on your ankle once again, reminding you that there was no escape.

You felt much better now that you were in actual clothes, even though they were a bit baggy and belonged to the person who kidnapped you.

The captain looked you over once you were finished.

"My clothes fit you better than I though." He smirked. "The boots are probably a bit big."

"They're fine." You muttered. "Thanks."

You thanked him under your breath, hoping he didn't catch it.

"What was that, darling?" He inquired.

"I said thanks." You spoke up.

"I still didn't catch that. What?"

"I'm not saying it again."

"It was worth a shot." He sighed, playing with the chain in his hand. "Come on."

He led you out of his cabin and back onto the deck where he took the long chain attached to the cuff on your ankle and wrapped it around the main mast, securing it around the large post. Though you were upset about still being imprisoned, it was a step up from being tied up with rope. At least now you could walk around, well, as far as the chain would allow.

"Now, just because I said you might be useful doesn't mean you're off the hook. You're going to have to earn my trust."

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes. "What is it you're wanting me to do?"

"I want you to swab the deck." He told you.

"Seriously? I just proved that I know sailing knots and you're putting me on cleaning duty?"

"You proved that you know one sailing knot. So yes, you're on cleaning duty." He grabbed a nearby mop, shoving it towards you. "Bucket's right there." He pointed before walking up to the forecastle deck.

You sighed, grabbing the bucket of water, dipping the ratty mop into it. The chain cuffed to your ankle allowed you to walk around the main deck, however, you couldn't get near the railing of the ship. Even if you wanted to, jumping ship would be the stupidest thing you could do. You're out in the middle of the ocean with no compass and no boat. If you jumped ship, you'd be left treading water for goodness knows how long. Your best bet was to stay on the ship. Though, you'd love to get this infuriating cuff off your ankle.

For the time being, you'd play it cool and stay under the radar, mopping the fish gut-stained deck, the acrid stench burning your nose. You dropped the sopping mop onto the wooden boards, swiping back and forth repeatedly until it was clean. You repeated this until you had nearly half the deck mopped.

Seonghwa made sure to keep a vigilant eye on you, making sure you weren't trying anything.

At times, you'd have to move things out of the way to properly mop. As you moved a few small crates, you noticed a bobby pin lying on the deck. Glancing over your shoulder, you checked to make sure Seonghwa wasn't looking before snatching the bobby pin, swiftly sliding it into your hair as you got back to work, acting as if nothing had happened.

Once the deck was thoroughly swabbed, you sat down on a large crate to rest, glancing up at the forecastle deck where Seonghwa stood, steadily steering the large sea vessel.

"Captain!" One of the crew members called out.

"What is it?"

"Come here. I need you to come check this."

Seonghwa stepped away from the wheel to assist the man in need of assistance. You took the opportunity to get a look at the keyhole on the cuff attached to your ankle. When you were younger, your dad had a huge chest of memorabilia from old ships he worked on when he was a teenager. Unfortunately, the box was locked shut and he had lost the key, so he picked the lock to get inside the chest. That's where you learned to pick locks.

Checking again to see if Seonghwa was still preoccupied, you pulled out the bobby pin and began to mess with the keyhole on the cuff, jiggling the the pin around. Unfortunately, you didn't make any progress with it, as Seonghwa had returned to his post at the wheel. Not wanting to raise suspicion, you tucked the bobby pin away, choosing to wait for a better time to free yourself.

"Not bad, Y/n." He commented as he observed the deck from the wheel of the ship.

You scoffed, turning away from him.

The bright sun was soon replaced with the softly glowing moon, the air becoming much cooler as stars began to appear, dotting the sky above.

Seonghwa had put you to work cleaning and doing seemingly pointless tasks almost all day, which you were annoyed with. However, when night approached, he offered to let you sleep in his quarters. You refused at first, not wanting to share a bed with the tyrant, but he clarified telling you that he had a hammock you could sleep in. You agreed after that.

Seonghwa, who still didn't trust you, attached the chain to a wooden post in his room. Despite the discomfort from the metal cuff, you slept well—much better than you had the previous night.

You still wanted to leave, though.

You stayed chained up for days, being put to work cleaning and doing other things completely unrelated to sailing. You hated it. Swabbing the deck, cleaning the cannons, cleaning the kitchen, washing the dishes. Chores, basically. You didn't get to anything the crew got to do. You were just a maid.

Then, one day an opportunity presented itself to you.

As you worked on the main deck under the watchful eyes of Seonghwa, his quartermaster called out for him. Your attention turned towards the forecastle deck. Seonghwa sighed, abandoning his place at the wheel to speak with his quartermaster.

You hastily retrieved the bobby pin you had kept with you since finding it, making sure no one was watching as you attempted to pick the lock on the cuff.

"Come on. Come on." You murmured under your breath, glancing around. Seonghwa was busy, his back turned as he spoke to the quartermaster. The crew was busy doing their own tasks, not paying any mind to what was going on, too engrossed in their duties. Though everyone was preoccupied, you still felt on edge, knowing that at any moment, one of them could spot you trying to free yourself.

"Come on." You muttered, gritting your teeth.

Click.

The cuff unlatched.

You gasped, frantically looking around to make sure no one saw. You stood up, preparing to sneak into the cargo hold.

"Captain." The quartermaster pointed just beyond Seonghwa's shoulder.

He turned around, following the quartermaster's finger, spotting you without the metal cuff on your ankle, sneaking along the deck.

"That little—" He hissed through his teeth, rushing down the stairs to the main deck. "What do you think you're doing?"

You spun around just in time to see the captain coming after you. On a moment's notice, you reached over to the nearest pirate and pulled a sword from his sheath

"Very cute." Seonghwa chuckled amusedly, pulling his own sword out.

You held the sword out, pointing it towards him as the crew mates backed off, watching in shock. He stepped forward, your weapons clashing with a resounding clang. You weren't the best swordsman, but your father taught you a bit about sword fighting in case you came across any pirates while sailing.

You pushed Seonghwa's weapon away with the thin blade of your sword. He grunted, his jaw clenched as he fought back.

"Get away!" You shouted.

"You have no authority here." Seonghwa chuckled, blocking your swing.

You came at him mercilessly, every single time, he blocked you with ease, looking as if he wasn't even trying. Rarely did he come at you with an attack. It seemed he was only defending himself, never taking any shots at you. You raised your sword, ready to strike again when suddenly he stepped forward, the flat side of his sword firmly patting your bottom.

You gasped, placing your hand on your backside in shock. Seonghwa chuckled, smirking proudly. That only made you angrier. Your grip tightened on the hilt of the sword and you lunged forward, only for Seonghwa to dodge, stepping aside with ease.

"You know, I could have injured you many times by now, but I didn't." He spoke.

You noticed he had plenty of opportunities to harm you, but he was just being playful and not really fighting back. Why?

"Don't be a coward!" You snapped, pointing your sword at him. "Fight back."

"You don't want me to do that, sweetheart."

"I do."

Seonghwa quirked a brow.

In turn, you came at him, swinging the sword. He blocked every hit, fighting back and clashing blades with you. The force of his hits had become much more powerful at this point. So powerful, that it was forcing you to take a few steps back. With one, powerful swing, Seonghwa knocked the sword from your hand, the weapon clattering to the deck. You stepped backwards to get away from him, your back hitting the wall between the sets of stairs leading to the forecastle deck.

In a split second, Seonghwa's sword was thrown through the air, landing directly beside your head, sticking out of the wood.

You were frozen with fear, your body stiff as you tried to process the fact that your life quite literally flashed before your eyes.

Seonghwa strode towards you, grabbing onto the sword's hilt, jerking the weapon from the wood, his dark eyes staring into yours with the burning intensity of a thousand suns. You were terrified.

"Now, let's get you chained back up, shall we?"

Your eyes widened and in seconds, you ducked under his arm and went straight for the closest thing—the rigging. Grabbing onto the netting, you began to climb up it, moving further from the deck.

"Don't be like that, Y/n." Seonghwa sighed. "Why don't you come on down?"

You ignored him, climbing higher.

"Come on. Where will you go?"

"Away from you!" You shouted.

"Get down here." He called.

"You honestly think I'll listen to you?" You asked.

Seonghwa's jaw ticked with annoyance, his hand squeezing the hilt of his sword.

"I could always just cut you down." He tilted his head, a glint in his eye that told you he wasn't lying.

"But Captain, the rigging will be damaged." One of the crew mates spoke up. "I don't know if we'll be able to—"

"Shh." Seonghwa cut him off. "I don't care."

"What if she gets hurt?"

"I don't care." Seonghwa repeated, raising his sword.

Crap.

You didn't think about the fact that you could fall onto the deck and get injured. Just as Seonghwa reared back, you spoke up.

"Okay!"

He paused, looking up at you.

"I'll come down." You relented, making your way down the rigging.

As you descended the netting, your foot slipped, a shout leaving your lips as you fell, squeezing your eyes shut and preparing for the harsh impact. You grunted as you landed roughly in someone's arms. You peeled open your eyes to see Seonghwa looking down at you with a proud expression on his face.

"Nice of you to join us." He grinned.

Your face twisted in distaste as you squirmed your way out of his arms.

"You're not a bad sword fighter." He commented. "I could teach you how to be a better one."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you can do better than that."

"I thought you wanted to chain me up again."

"I should. Especially since you've proven to me that you'll turn on me as soon as you get the chance... but I won't."

"Why? What do you want?" You asked.

"Well for starters, you're not that much of a threat to me. You know a little self-defense and you seem to have a few skills that can help you get out of bad situations. In other words, you're good, but you're not that good."

For some reason, that offended you.

"You passed." He finally stated.

"Passed?"

"Yeah. You've done a good job cleaning around the ship, you managed to escape under tough circumstances—though you did it under my supervision, which isn't very good on the loyalty part, but we'll work on that. You know a bit about ships and your sword fighting, while rather sloppy,"

"Hey!" You snapped.

"I think you could improve with an excellent teacher." He finished.

"Oh? Do you know one?" You asked, sarcastically.

He gave you a deadpan expression.

"So what do you want?" You asked.

"I want you on my crew."

"You're joking." You chuckled.

"I'm not."

"What's in it for me?"

"Food, shelter, a place to live."

"I had a place to live and you took me away from it." You snapped.

"That's fair." He hummed, straightening his coat.

"How do I know you won't turn on me?"

"How do I know you won't turn on me?" He directed the question back at you.

Touché.

"Fair point." You responded.

"What do you say, Y/n?" He inquired, reaching his hand out. "Do we have a deal?"

You'd never be able to return home. You were going to be stuck on this ship either way so it didn't really matter. The only thing you could gain from joining the crew is safety and protection, which you'd prefer over being chained up and not knowing when they'd decide to throw you overboard.

"Deal." You finally spoke, shaking Seonghwa's hand.

As soon as you latched on, he pulled you toward him, jerking you forward. You grunted as you landed against his chest. He brought his head down to your ear before speaking.

"If you turn on me at any time, I won't hesitate to shoot you." He whispered, threateningly, the barrel of his pistol pressing against your side.

"You have my word." You responded, keeping your tone relaxed.

Truthfully, he wasn't all that frightening to you, but his threats seemed to hold weight. Whether or not he would follow through, that was a mystery. So for now, you needed to be on your best behavior.

Seonghwa released you, allowing you to step away from him and put some distance between the both of you.

"Alright everyone, back go work. There's nothing to see here." He addressed the crew who had been standing and watching the both of you like they would a play or some other form of entertainment. The crew dispersed immediately, going back to what they were doing.

"Alright, Y/n. Should we begin your lessons?"

"Now?"

"No, tomorrow."

You turned to him with a flat expression.

He paid no mind to it as he began speaking again.

"Follow me."

You trailed behind him as he went to his sleeping quarters and retrieved an extra sword, grabbing one that was displayed on the wall.

"I stole this one from a wealthy king." He grinned, seeming to look back on the memories. "You can borrow it for practice."

You took the hilt which had a rather intricate design etched into and around the handle that caged your knuckles.

"It's nice." You commented quietly, watching the way the light spilling into the room glinted on the silver handle.

"I know. That's why I had to have it. Consider yourself lucky. I don't let just anyone borrow that."

Rolling your eyes in response, you lifted the weapon upright, testing its weight.

"Will that work for you?"

"I think so." You nodded.

"Then let's begin."

You followed the pirate onto the vast and spacious main deck where he took his stance. You did the same, holding your sword at the ready.

"For starters, the way you stand is too loose. You need to lock up your legs. If you stand like you are now, your opponent can easily overpower you and force you backwards. You need to try and stand firm."

Glancing down at your feet, you repositioned yourself, making sure to stand a bit more firmly.

"That isn't right." He sighed, walking over and readjusting your stance, making you straighten your back. His hands rested firmly on your shoulders, pushing them forward a bit.

Feeling him so close to you was giving you mixed feelings, both good and bad.

You had to remind yourself that the man teaching you how to sword fight was the same man who forced you onto this godforsaken ship in the first place.

"Alright. That's how you properly stand. Do you feel the difference?"

You nodded.

"Good. Let's try fighting now." He held up his own sword, quickly making the first move.

You made sure to keep your legs locked, blocking his swing and pushing his blade away with your own, a resounding shing sound cutting through the air. The force of you pushing his weapon away didn't faze him at all, in fact, he hardly budged.

His brow briefly rose in a somewhat mocking manner as he smirked. You could practically hear him say, "That's why your stance has to be solid."

Swinging your weapon towards his, you let out a grunt, your blades clashing. You pulled back, going in again only to be blocked. This pattern kept repeating until you finally saw an opening. Your arms raised, your hands gripping tightly onto the hilt. Just as you were about to swing, you noticed Seonghwa eyeing your middle. That's when you realized your abdomen was exposed. Both of your arms were up in the air and he had a clear shot at your midriff.

In the blink of an eye, you jumped backwards and just as you did so, Seonghwa's blade stabbed the air right where you previously stood.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, your eyes wide in shock.

"You just tried to stab me." You breathed.

"That's what a sword fight is."

"But you could have killed me!"

"Don't be dramatic. I wasn't actually going to stab you. If you hadn't jumped back I was just gonna fake you out."

Your eyes narrowed at him.

"Come on. Let's go again."

"I don't think so."

"Come on, Y/n. I won't try to get any hits in this time. Promise."

"I don't trust pirates." You snapped.

"You trusted me enough to have a practice sword fight with me just now. So, you must have at least an ounce of trust in me."

He got you there.

"Alright, fine."

"So, you admit that you trust me even if it's just a little." He grinned.

"Let's just get this over with."

You spent the next few weeks training with Seonghwa, allowing him to teach you all his tips and tricks for sword fighting. At first, you thought he was just being cocky calling himself a good teacher and all, but he was telling the truth. Besides his arrogance, he was a pretty decent mentor. You actually felt like you had improved a bit in your sword fighting.

Not only that, but between practice sessions, you started picking up different tasks around the ship. Some days, you'd help with the sails, while others you'd polish weapons. You even got to help prepare dinner for the crew one night, which you enjoyed.

You stood on the forecastle deck with Seonghwa watching him steer the large vessel, the warm sea breeze blowing through your hair. That's one thing you were beginning to enjoy about being on this ship. The almost constant breeze was always nice and in some ways refreshing. The ocean surprisingly relaxed you.

"I love this view." Seonghwa spoke up, cutting through the silence. "The horizon stretches for miles and miles. You can't see the end of it. It just goes on forever. And the thing about the ocean being so big is that there's so much to explore and you never know what's out there unless you look for it." He commented, staring out at the endless expanse of water.

Glancing over at him, you saw how his eyes had this gleam of joy, a content expression on his face. It was the first time you'd seen him look so... happy.

"You really like what you do, don't you?"

"I do. I enjoy going to different places and living at sea. I feel like I was meant to be here."

You were surprised to hear that from him. For once, you felt like you had gotten a glimpse of the real Seonghwa. You'd never seen that side of him before and were beginning to think maybe he wasn't as merciless or as arrogant as you first thought he was.

"Seonghwa?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Taking care of me, training me, feeding me, giving me a place to sleep. Why did you even kidnap me in the first place?"

"Honestly, you were giving my crew mate so much trouble. It agitated me. I really was planning to hurt you or throw you to the sharks, but I also saw something in you. You put up quite a fight, I guess I though I could use you on my side. So, instead of doing something I probably shouldn't, I decided that I would just keep you around and see what happened." He answered. "Besides, I don't kill ladies."

"Oh, so now I'm a lady?" You questioned, teasingly.

"You were always a lady."

For some strange reason, that made you feel something and you kind of hated it. You should have been repulsed, disgusted, appalled even—but no. Instead, you felt somewhat flustered. There's no way you could be falling for Seonghwa—could you?

"So, do you just put on this tough exterior so everyone is afraid of you?" You questioned, intending to learn more about him.

"Was it that obvious?" He chuckled.

"Sort of. You did a good job at hiding it at first, I'll give you that."

"Thanks."

"You still rob innocent townspeople of their things, though." You added.

"I have to. That's a pirate's life. Though, I don't always steal from innocent people, just when it's necessary."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Not really, but I act like I do. Robbing people who deserve it is what I enjoy." He smirked at that.

"I suppose I could understand that." You hummed. "So, how did you end up here, living a life of piracy? I don't suppose you were born a pirate."

"It's a long story." He responded, staring ahead, his expression holding an emotion you couldn't describe.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I have plenty of time." You chuckled.

Seonghwa pressed his lips together in thought, his fingers tapping the wheel.

"When I was five, my mother suddenly decided she didn't want anything to do with me and dumped me on my father." He started. "Unfortunately, he didn't want anything to do with me either, so he took me to the docks and ditched me there. It wasn't long after that a fisherman came along and found me, taking me in. I was young and scared, wondering why both my parents had just left me, not caring what happened. You'd think that fisherman would be compassionate since he took me in, but he was cruel. He would guilt trip me and make me feel like a liability, always saying things like I was useless and would never amount to anything. He always called me ungrateful and said I'd be dead without him. Truth is, I did everything he asked me to do and then some. I was a decent kid. He had no reason to treat me the way he did. I sometimes wonder why he even took me in if I was such a burden to him."

You frowned, not knowing Seonghwa had such a difficult childhood.

"One day I just had enough. I was sick of him putting me down all the time. The first ship that docked in town, I stole. I didn't care who it belonged to, I just wanted to get out of there. I boarded the ship with a small bag of all my belongings and just sailed away. I was on my own for a few weeks, stealing from different places until I docked in a nearby town. That's where I found the first few members of my crew and it's grown ever since."

You watched as he steered the very vessel he had stolen years ago, his eye still on the horizon ahead.

"Being tossed from one person to another makes you feel pretty unwanted." He glanced down below at the main deck towards his crew. "But I feel pretty wanted here." A small smile pulled at his lips and he looked over at you. "I never had a permanent home until now. This crew is my family."

For some reason when he said that, you felt included in it too.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Me too."

"How old were you when you ran away?"

"12."

"Wow." You twiddled your thumbs for a moment, imagining a young 12-year-old Seonghwa being at sea on his own with only a few people to help him out. Without thinking twice you approached him, wrapping your arms around him from behind. The captain stiffened a bit before turning in your hold and facing you.

"What are you doing?"

"You didn't deserve any of that." You told him, your arms tightening around his slim waist.

He hesitantly brought a hand up and placed it on your back, somewhat reciprocating the hug. The only person to ever hug him was his mother and that was only a few times. He wasn't used to such displays of affection.

"It isn't your fault." He told you, trying to ignore the way his heart raced.

Pulling away, you glanced up at him. "You know, despite everything you went through, it seems to me you've made a decent life for yourself."

"I have." He smiled softly to himself.

Your elbows rested on the railing of the ship as you stared out into the ocean, watching the way the waves crested as the wind blew across the water's surface. Once again, you were on the forecastle deck with Seonghwa, which is where you've been spending most of your time recently. Ever since he opened up to you about his childhood, you started seeing him more as a decent man with rough beginning and less like an arrogant captain that you constantly wanted to slap across the face.

After he opened up, he started acting different around you—different in a good way. He seemed more himself, like he wasn't putting on an act or trying to be tough or intimidating. He joked around more and seemed to enjoy your company just as much as you enjoyed his.

"You know, we're headed east." Seonghwa spoke up, leaning over on the railing beside you.

"Oh." You responded with no particular attitude.

"You know, where your town is." He added.

"I know. The east is a bit boring though, don't you think?"

Seonghwa seemed confused by your response. Having expected you to want to go back home, he thought you'd be jumping for joy.

"I hear the west is nice this time of year." You commented, turning to him with a smile.

"That's in the complete opposite direction."

"I know."

"What are you trying to say?"

You gave him a grin. "I'm part of your crew, aren't I?"

"What?" Seonghwa's cheeks turned red. "I-I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

Pushing aside his embarrassment and flustered feelings, he managed to respond.

"Are you saying you want to stay?"

"I am."

"Why? I took you from your home by force. I tied you to the mast and kept you chained up for weeks."

"That was before I learned about you... the real you. You're not the same man who forced me onto this ship."

"Even so, you should return home."

"I don't want to. Besides, there's nothing for me in that town. I prefer staying right where I am." You smiled contently.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm more sure than I've ever been."

Seonghwa tried to hold back the smile that attempted to break out across his features, but his efforts were futile. He was thrilled that you wanted to stay with him.

The feelings he had towards you first became prominent when he started giving you sword flighting lessons and they only grew from there. It was when he opened up to you that his feelings really blossomed, becoming so palpable that he couldn't bear to be away from you.

"Thank you, Y/n."

"Why are you thanking me?" You questioned.

"Because I don't deserve your forgiveness or even your company."

Your gaze softened as you looked at him. "Yes you do. I wouldn't have wanted to stay here if you hadn't proven to me that you're not who I once thought you were."

Seonghwa reached over, tentatively taking your hand in his. You accepted the gesture, lacing your fingers with his.

"So, you want to be a permanent crew member?" He inquired.

"I do."

"I hope you're ready. You may think you know what goes on around here, but you've only seen the half of it. There'll be fights with opposing ships and strong storms that could throw a man overboard. Do you think you can handle it?"

"I'm ready for whatever the sea has to throw at me."

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Hongjoong ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi

#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa x you #park seonghwa #ateez pirate au #seonghwa pirate au #seonghwa #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios

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zahmaddog · 7 months ago

Text

Part 2: The Warning

Read Part 1: Making Friends in Pabu Warnings: Fluffy AF, Alcohol, Flirting, Slowest Burn of Burns, Death, Blaster Fire, Explosions, Light Romance (SFW), Comfort.

Crosshair x fem!reader | Word Count: 3704

I decided to keep writing for fun. This one is a bit spicier than the first part as the relationship deepens between the reader and Crosshair. In good Star Wars fashion, I'm hoping this hooks you all in with some twists and action. The reader is a badass woman and I really wanted to fuel the character further with talents and quips. I hope she's a cool character to escape into. Enjoy!

“Come find me tomorrow?” You called to Crosshair as he exited your ship. He turned and waved a little to acknowledge the comment, but didn’t respond with anything endearing. You sighed as your company walked alone under the stars, leaving you feeling a little empty. You bit your lip and closed the door to your ship. You looked at the table where you and Crosshair had enjoyed the evening together and questioned if you should leave the small mess to wake up to; as a reminder that you weren’t completely alone that night. —--

“Did you get any intel on her?” Hunter sat on the steps of the Bad Batch’s well-decorated porch. “You’re still awake?” Crosshair’s words slithered out of his still buzzed mouth. “Are you drunk?” Hunter tried not to laugh. Crosshair ungracefully sat next to his brother and pointed a finger at the sky. “Was drunk.” Crosshair grinned a little. Then he put his head into his hands as his emotions swung back and forth. “Are you okay?” Hunter reached out and touched Crosshair’s shoulder. Crosshair stayed silent for a minute, then shifted to regain some composure. “We can trust her,” he began, “Or, I trust her. She’s no clone, but has also escaped a life of conditioning.”

Hunter let go of Crosshair and folded his arms as he leaned back into the staircase. “So, she’s not going to bring any trouble?” Hunter questioned Crosshair. “I can’t say for sure. I meant to talk about details of what I read in her file, but I didn’t get around to it.” Crosshair looked down at his feet.

“You spent hours over there and you didn’t even ask? What could you possibly have talked about?” Hunter said slowly, but with a hint of frustration.

Crosshair opened and closed his mouth a few times in an attempt to begin an answer. Hunter’s look of concern returned as he knew while Crosshair was a man of few words, he was always one to have words.

“I tried to play her guitar. She plays beautifully,” Crosshair said to the stars. He looked at Hunter, “I think I may have made a friend.”

“Huh,” Hunter smiled. “Well, if you trust her, I’ll trust her.” He stood up and shook his pants from the sand and dirt on the steps. “But, we’ll need to watch out for her too then.”

Crosshair nodded in agreement.

Hunter was careful with his words, but he still felt something wasn’t right. He couldn’t tell if it was his previous run-ins with bounty hunters after Omega clouding his senses, or if there was something new to be concerned about. Hunter sighed and watched his loneliest brother stargaze.

I won’t ruin this for him. Hunter thought to himself. Shaking off the feeling of worry and dread for a moment, Hunter stepped inside, and turned to see Crosshair still sitting on the steps. “Are you coming inside?” Hunter yawned while he held the door open. “In a while, maybe.” Crosshair said unbothered. —-

Crosshair woke late that morning on the porch surrounded by Wrecker’s plush toy Lula, pillows, and a draping sheet to create a tent. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, causing the tent to collapse around him. He heard the front door open. “Oh, sorry, Crosshair!” Omega exclaimed. She set a plate of fresh pancakes in Crosshair’s lap and removed the sheet from his head. “I was hoping we could have breakfast together in a pillowfort?” Omega smiled. “Of course.” Crosshair said while pulling the sheet overhead to fix Omega’s pillowfort. —-

It had been a few weeks since getting to know the family that called themselves “the Bad Batch.” You had been to their home for meals a few times and Crosshair spent nearly every evening with you. In the mornings, you’d see Wrecker, Crosshair, and Omega out fishing, with Hunter in tow sometimes. On occasion, Crosshair would jump to your boat to spend the day with you.

Omega waved as their ship skipped over the choppy water to your vessel. Wrecker cut the engine and as the ships drifted closer, Crosshair jumped into the water and swam towards your boat. You reached down into the water and pulled him aboard.

He grinned, “Hi, beautiful.”

You smiled and threw him a towel. “We could have waited until we were closer for you to jump on.”

“I decided I couldn’t wait any longer,” Crosshair said through the towel as he dried his face.

From the ship, Omega, Wrecker, and Hunter waved.

“Don’t keep him out too late!” Omega yelled as their ship took off towards the island, leaving you and Crosshair alone. He turned to you and sighed a breath of relief.

“I have a surprise for you today,” you smiled as you held up a box of clay birds.

“Target practice?” Crosshair raised an eyebrow. “How touching. You do care about me, don’t you?”

“I could get used to caring, yes,” you replied as you tossed the box at him.

“I didn’t bring my rifle,” Crosshair ran his fingers over the box and opened it to reveal clay birds ready for tossing and shooting.

“No worries, I have a few things stashed,” you vocalized while digging into a storage space beneath the deck. You pulled out a few blasters from below deck, a pistol, and two rifles.

“They’re not much,” you grinned, “But it’s hard to get anything with the Empire running things these days. Will you keep my secret?”

Crosshair picked up one of the rifles and looked down the barrel and shot a look of approval in your direction, “Oh, I’ll keep your secret.”

You put a pair of binoculars to your eyes and scanned the horizon, then asked Crosshair, “Do you think we’re far enough out that nobody will notice?”

“I’m sure you could blame this one on me and nobody will bat an eye,” he chuckled.

“Okay then, you’re up, Mister Sniper,” you laughed as you wound up your arm with a birdie ready to toss.

“No, no.” Crosshair motioned you to come closer to him, “We’re going to judge your marksmanship skills first.”

You took the rifle from Crosshair with a bit of a confused look written across your face. You didn’t argue with him and you lined the rifle up with your shoulder.

“Ready?” Crosshair looked at you and you nodded back. He threw the birdie high into the sky. Pulling the trigger the second it aligned in your sights, you blasted it to pieces.

“Deadeye.” Crosshair looked at you impressed.

“Okay, now it’s your turn.” You tossed the rifle towards Crosshair. He lined the rifle up to his shoulder as a serious expression washed over his face.

“Remember how I said I was a sniper?” He spoke softly as he looked down through the sites. “That’s a big emphasis on was. Throw it.” He instructed.

You tossed the bird into the sky, he followed it with the barrel, pulled the trigger, and blasted the bird to pieces.

“Seems to me like there’s still a sniper in there somewhere,” you said in admiration as the pieces fell into the ocean.

“Hmm.” Crosshair replied with a grunt. He looked at his mechanical hand and placed it back on the trigger. “Again,” he prodded.

You tossed the second bird into the sky, Crosshair followed it, pulled the trigger, and again blasted the bird to pieces. He looked up from his sights with a soft gaze and watched the pieces fall into the water.

“I’m surprised I can hit anything at all anymore,” he snickered to himself while studying his mechanical hand once again. You watched his eyes glaze over, as if he was watching a movie scene play out in his head.

“You okay? We, we don’t have to do this,” you implored.

“No, it’s okay. Throw a few into the air at once, if you could,” Crosshair coaxed.

“Is it cool if I shoot some with you? Want to see who’s faster?” you challenged.

Crosshair looked down the barrel, “You’re on.”

You tossed several birds out at once with precision. None of them floated for long as you and Crosshair blew them to smithereens within seconds. About ten minutes after repeating this routine, you were out of clay birds to throw.

“I don’t think we missed a single bird,” you bantered, throwing the empty box onto the deck.

“I guess you could say we make a good team,” Crosshair blushed and stepped closer to hand the rifle back to you. You let your hand slide down the barrel as you took a step closer to him, gazing up into his eyes for a few seconds too long.

“What is it?” Crosshair swooned a little.

“I don’t mind these little moments with you,” you professed. “You’re different.”

Crosshair responded with a soft smile and small laugh, “I’m defective.”

Completely missing the joke, you respond “You shoot perfectly, even with a mechanical hand. I wouldn’t call that ‘defective.’”

“No, like I’m defective by nature?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to explain, “My family, we’re all defective clones.”

“Oh.” It finally dawned on you why they all looked very alike, “Like defective clone troopers,” you muttered.

“You didn’t see that immediately?” Crosshair was a little stunned.

“No, I just thought you were… Well, take no offense to this, but regular people,” you admitted.

“You thought we were regular?” Crosshair laughed. “And Tech was always the one that said none of us would pass a psychological examination.”

You sat down on the deck, pulling on Crosshair’s hand to join you.

“Who’s Tech?” you asked.

Crosshair sat down on the deck next to you and put the blaster to his side. He pulled his legs close to his chest and crossed his arms in front of them. He was afraid to open up to you and to let you in. He took a deep breath in and exhaled, just as Omega had taught him in meditation, and just as he breathed behind the sniper scope for so many years.

“Tech was my brother.” Crosshair spoke more to the ocean than to you. “We all knew the risks to living a life as a soldier. Tech died protecting Omega and my brothers.” He paused for a moment, then resumed with hesitation, “He died trying to save me. We’re a family, but in a lot of ways, we’ll never be the same without Tech.”

The boat rocked back and forth on the water as the ocean breeze responded to Crosshair’s words. You sat in silence next to him watching the birds fly just above the water. You reached out your arm across his back and leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt forced, this one-sided embrace, but you held him for a moment to share your condolences without breaking the silence.

Surprised by your grasp, Crosshair breaks his tucked position and pulls you in, looping one leg around you and pulling you against his chest. His embrace tightened as his face fell to the nape of your neck. He exhaled slowly into your skin. You too relaxed into his grip.

Your comm rang, ruining the moment. You slid the small circular device out of your pocket and watched it ring.

“Are you going to answer that?” Crosshair inquired. His embrace broke slightly as you sat up a bit higher. The ghostly look on your face as you studied the device answered some of Crosshair’s question. “You’re afraid to answer it.” He muttered, releasing his embrace entirely.

“What are you hiding?” He questioned.

“We’ll answer it together,” you answered the call.

A blue hologram figure appeared, floating above the small device. The figure was wearing a helmet to mask his face. He was unfamiliar to you, so you asked, “Who are you?”

“You don’t remember? Always so impersonal.” The voice was deep in response. “I have a warning for you. Vinn Carvel knows it was you that took the artifact from the compound upon your exit. Turns out, you were doing him a favor.”

“A favor?” You blustered in bewilderment. You felt Crosshair’s eyes shift from the hologram to you. Your heart sank.

“That artifact had an Inquisitor at our door this morning. Looks like you took something— priceless.” The hologramed voice continued, “If you’re on the run, I’d keep running. That’s the last you’ll hear from us.” The hologram switched off.

“What’s he talking about?” Crosshair sounded concerned. You met his gaze with a dissociated look.

“I might be dangerous after all,” you attested.

—

You and Crosshair fled back to the island. The ship chopped roughly along the water as you held the throttle to the max. Crosshair rode on the opposite side of the ship in silence. The water around you began to darken, as if something was blocking out the sun. You look up, only to find your deepest anxieties ignite in the shadow of an Imperial shuttle.

The Imperial ship followed you to the island, appearing larger and larger as its altitude dropped. Crosshair picked up one of your rifles and held it close. You knew there was nowhere to run, but you needed to get Crosshair back to his family before conversing with the Empire.

You docked the boat and yelled to Crosshair, “Run!” He jumped from the boat to the dock and sprinted up the mountain out of sight.

Knowing what the Empire was after, you grabbed the backpack that rarely left your sight and jumped to the dock. You spied the shuttle landing at the spaceport, so you started running towards the Imperial shuttle.

Just throw them the bag and get out of there. You told yourself, but there was an unsettling feeling that it wasn’t going to be as easy as you’d hoped.

Just as you got into the spaceport, you were met by two Imperial officers.

“Get on the ground with your hands up,” they barked. You followed their orders and immediately knelt with your hands up.

From the main entrance of the shuttle, a hooded figure appeared and walked down the ramp. The inquisitor’s lightsaber ignited and they dragged the red blade alongside the ground as they walked towards you.

“Funny how you’re on this side of things now, Tarkin,” the Inquisitor snarled. “Your uncle was most displeased when he learned of your… desertion.”

“Imperial royalty wasn’t my idea of a good life,” you hissed back.

“Where’s the holocron?” The Inquisitor wasted no time.

“Just take the backpack,” you insisted.

The imperial guard behind you unzipped your bag and ruffled through it. He paused for a moment and pulled out a glowing pyramid.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The Inquisitor smiled and accepted the holocron from the guard. “Lord Vader will be most pleased.”

“Lord–who?” You quipped back.

“Guards, take her into custody and back with us to Mustafar,” the Inquisitor bellowed.

It was seconds after the guards forcefully applied the cuffs to your wrists and yanked you to stand that you heard blaster fire. Both guards fell to your side and the Inquisitor spun their lightsaber blade inches from your throat. You froze.

“I see you’ve made friends,” the Inquisitor deadpanned.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Crosshair slide down the lookout tower's side and walk closer to the Inquisitor.

“You dare challenge me?” The Inquisitor called out.

Crosshair squeezed the trigger, causing the Inquisitor to block the blaster fire. You fell to the ground and shuffled away from the blade’s reach. Crosshair continued the onslaught of blaster fire, until one shot landed. Then another. The Inquisitor’s blade retreated and they fell to their knees staring up at Crosshair.

“You can’t kill a force wielder,” they managed to utter in a weakened voice.

“Unfortunately for you, I was designed to.” Crosshair said as he pulled the trigger once more, causing the Inquisitor to fall lifeless at his feet.

Crosshair studied his kill, but directed his voice towards you, “Are you okay?”

You nodded in disbelief and responded in a near whisper, “You came back for me?”

He stepped over his kill towards you and ordered, “Turn around.”

You turned and gave him your hands. He took his knife and cut through the restraints and turned you to face him, his hands not leaving your sides. His eyes, broken with mistrust, looked longingly into yours.

“I have to go now,” you rasped. “I have to get this thing off the planet and away… from you. I’m so sorry.”

Crosshair, at a loss for words, moved his hand from your waist to your cheek.

“Go.” He shuddered. You fell into his embrace and pulled away after a few second’s time. Crosshair planted a soft kiss on your lips and let go of you; you broke him.

Detaching yourself from the screaming emotion of unspoken affections, you turned your attention to the mess you and Crosshair had made.

“Help me get these bodies onto this ship,” You began. “I’ll follow their previous flight path, mess with the computer, and make it look like they never got to the planet. I doubt they’re tracking their Inquisitors closely.”

Crosshair nodded and helped you lug the bodies into the shuttle.

“You’re not going to destroy the shuttle with yourself in it, right?” He prodded.

“Unfortunately for you, no,” you gawked.

“How can you joke at a time like this?” Crosshair fretted while heaving the last body into the shuttle.

“I’ll remotely control my ship to come get me. Don’t worry. I’m going to be fine. This plan is our best shot to protect Pabu, then I’ll get rid of this artifact before anyone else comes looking for it,” you explained as you walked up the ramp of the shuttle.

“And who is looking for it?” Crosshair called to you.

“I have more secrets to whisper to you later,” you sighed as you closed the shuttle entrance.

—-

Racing to the pilot seat, you dispatched the landing gear and steered the shuttle to the sky, leaving Crosshair alone on the spaceport’s platform. Retracing the flight path with the computer, you found a nearby star system along the way to ditch the shuttle.

Programming in the path to light speed, you pulled your tablet computer system from your bag and remotely controlled your private ship. Sending the flight coordinates, you programmed the ship to pick you up hours after ditching the shuttle.

Now into space, you prepared the ship for lightspeed and punched it. It would only be a short journey, so you had to act fast if you were to erase the coordinate history of the ship and have enough time to clear your head. You worked your way into the computer, realizing it had been sending transponding coordinates of its position back to the Empire.

The only way the plan would work is if nobody cross-referenced the computer’s data with the coordinates it sent the Empire. If anything, this maneuver would only buy you some time. You reprogrammed the ship’s harddrive, dropped out of hyperspace, ripped the motherboard containing the coordinate harddrive from the ship, and awaited your own ship’s arrival. It was a complex mission, but you were always quick enough on your feet to stay at least one step ahead of your enemy.

The hours moved slowly. You sat in the pilot's seat, feeling your thoughts catch up to your racing anxieties. The Empire found you. You thought to yourself. Crosshair will never trust you again. You sank into the chair. Crosshair. You owed him. He had saved you from Imperial capture; that of which you’d then be tried for treason and likely killed. It didn’t matter that you were a Tarkin or not, once a deserter, you were always an enemy to the Empire and your family.

Your ship exited hyperspace on-schedule. You sigh in relief, then make your way to the escape pod. Launching yourself into space, you pilot the escape pod to your ship and dock it. You seal the cabins together and open your ship remotely. You drop inside your ship and double-check your bag for the artifact and motherboard. You close the seal and release the escape pod back into space.

“What’s the plan from here?” You hear Crosshair call from the cockpit. You had jumped a little as his presence startled you.

You walk up to the front of the ship and take the seat next to Crosshair. You reach out and touch his arm, as if to see if he was real or an apparition of your mind. Realizing your gaze was lost in the disbelief of his arrival, you turn your attention again to the shuttle that floated in space before you.

“Blow it up,” you commanded.

“Roger that,” Crosshair responded as he fired the ship’s cannons on the shuttle.

“Get that escape pod too,” you pointed across the valley of space.

“Is that it?” Crosshair questioned.

“Not quite. One more thing,” you informed as you pulled the motherboard from your backpack. “Think you can do some sniping work from a ship’s cannon?”

Crosshair looked intrigued and raised a single eyebrow looking for further instruction.

“It’s a dumb idea, but I’ll release this into space. If you can graze it with cannon fire, it’ll look like it went down in the blast. I reprogrammed it to look like it never made it to Pabu. I know they’ll likely cross-reference it with the shuttle's transponding coordinates, but this will buy me– or, us, some time. If we’re lucky, they’ll never cross-reference it because the motherboard will still be functional.”

“They’re going to be on us soon. This is a terrible idea.” Crosshair replied worriedly.

“Well, it gets worse.” You stood up from your seat and made your way to the back of the ship. “I sent out a distress call before exiting that ship. They’ll be here sooner than I’d like.”

“You are reckless.” Crosshair mouthed off.

“You’re the one that decided to read my file and thought it was a good idea to follow me out here.”

Throwing the motherboard into the trash chute, you emptied the trash into space. Crosshair aimed next to the motherboard and burned it with cannon fire. Jogging back up to the cockpit, you slid into your seat, and punched the ship back into hyperspace.

—-

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb star wars #tbb crosshair #star wars #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb spoilers #crosshair x fem!reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x oc #the bad batch fanfiction

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iwaasfairy · 1 year ago

Text

ETCHED IN RED | RUST Part 2

tw. dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, mention of murder, power imbalance wordcount. 1.5k

read part 1 here or see the valentine's masterlist

millions knives x reader

Everything else has an almost imperceptible coat of dust— it’s in the air, in the way the sand and dirt creeps through the crevices and lingers. You push yourself up from the warm bed to peer through the spaces between the rickety shack. Your sister still sleeps tight, with her pillow wrapped tight under her arms— and the soft snoring of your parents in the other room also stays steady. One split second you choose against better judgment not to wake her. Have you ever seen a God?

The blanket clings to you while you stir, but slips off when you get onto your knees. A small sliver of light whips around in the distance, quiet, as a hum fills the air. It flickers distractingly through the narrow windows, breaking through the cracks in the door.

It looks almost biblical.

The light that shines above the town, as the earth rattles beneath. You softly tiptoe around the sleeping person as you rub the sleep out of your eyes, open the door to the cold midnight air. Something’s in the distance. Vague and big, it coils in the darkness as if looking for something, and a heaviness settles into your stomach. Have you ever met a God?

Without a single thought, you set off towards the tower, trying to quiet your steps so as not to attract attention. It’s not a stretch to guess that whatever it is, it’s here for your plant. One you, and all the people nearby, need. The heavy rattling, the drilling noise gets louder and louder, until you’re sure that it’s right upon the town.

You slip through the door and sprint up three steps at a time until you reach the platform, taking a single deep breath as you take in the faint glow. The plant’s tired, you know this. She’s uncurled herself just barely, face hidden within her hands— sometimes you try to reach out to her. You place your hands on the tank, press your head against the glass. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” you promise, and as if hearing you, understanding you; the beautiful leaves slowly seem to bloom a little more.

A frightening mechanic screech fills the night, and whoever wasn’t awake before, surely startles as the entire town shakes. The building with it. You stumble to your knees and turn, just in time to watch the metal roof being ripped off and the bladed, robotic arms to slither in. The man lands with no sound, and blue eyes zero in on you— as you stand to place yourself between him and the plant. The whirring appendages sprouting from his back drip in blood, and it’s only then that you can hear the screaming and crying from outside.

“You can’t take her- she’s sick,” you say, wrapping your arms around it as if in a desperate embrace. Your bottom lip wobbles in the silence, one you fill with a plea. “She’ll die if you take her.” Barely half of his face is visible from underneath the hood, but he towers, and his mouth corners flatten when you shake your head. “Please don’t hurt her.” Crying continues, as your palms heat up. As light gets brighter and brighter in the cold room, and your eyes widen.

You turn to see that the plant’s opened up, and her hands are pressed back against the glass in response to yours— heat surging through your body as you gasp. Though your body stands between him and his prize, he too drops his shoulders, and the mean snarl that was on his face vanishes. It doesn’t last long, before she tuckers out— but it’s enough for you to stare back at him in shock, mouth falling open at the stunning display. Small orbs of light still rain down around you. “The plant—” You don’t get to finish, before one of the arms wraps around you and yanks you towards him; not disemboweling you in the process. The other arms pick up the plant and pull you all out of the building, through the mess of shacks he’s destroyed.

“Wait, please! I-” you try to fight against the blades, but it’s no use. You only cut your skin open further, being dragged through the street kicking and screaming. “Stop, my family! Let me go!” Your arm is caught within a hand, as your sister hangs on with all her weight and almost pulls your hand clean off, planting her feet. She’s crying, and her eyes are bloodshot and frightened. You’re hurting. “Aw, aw!” You say her name, try to cling onto her fingers as hard as you can. Until you go blue. But it’s no fair fight— and as soon as sweat makes you slip, you’re out of her reach.

As you watch her wipe blood splatters off of her cheeks, crying out for you.

He’s moving too fast. The image of your destroyed town doesn’t stay for long enough for you to print it into your mind.

The furniture is cold when you touch them, dragging yourself around the room with a monotone sigh. Aside from that blue haired freak who glares, or the Doctor, Knives doesn’t get a lot of company. They rushed off in some state earlier, where Nai had barked at you to stay where you were— but you don’t doubt they’ll be back soon. You’ve seen what the blond can do. You’ve seen what’s left behind when someone tries to steal his precious plants. The camp is cold and metallic and clean, and you’ve learned that he doesn’t feel these things the way you do.

Instead you’re stuck in this room, and wait for the alarm to stop blaring soon. You place yourself on the well-kept leather seat, and softly press a few keys of the organ— jumping when the door slams open too violently. You cling onto the instrument as you turn, only to stare in confusion. Your mouth cracks open, and you frown. “Where’s master Knives? Are you here for the plants?”

He’s got almost the same face, but it’s not him. Hair too long, eyes too gentle. He’s got mechanical parts where Nai doesn’t— as he stands in the door disarmed. “I’m here for-”

“Vash, step aside.” The deep voice fills the room, and the golden blond aims his gun now at Nai. You can’t help it, you hurry over to his side. Knives at least, has shown that he doesn’t have the intent to harm you. This stranger however, keeps glancing between the two of you with frightening precision. Nai’s quick to pull you behind him out of direct reach, and tangles his hand with yours as you stare. They must be twins, your mind supplies. He squeezes your smaller, softer hand in his, then glances over at you. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no, I’m fine.” When you manage to get over your shock at the intrusion, you want to pout. It’s not like you trust him. He stole you, locked you up- you have every right to be angry. But still. He’s kept you from the Doctor’s experiments. And if Legato or any of the other ones had their way, you probably wouldn’t be so cared for. Dolled up. How should you understand this? You cling to his arm, as you peek your face from behind him. “What’s happening?”

The deep voice sounds again, and then the extra appendages come out gleaming in the low light, careful not to nick you in the process. “Vash is just leaving, pretty. Don’t worry.” He brushes a quick hand over your head, before pushing you down to the floor behind the couch. “Stay there.” They’re both back down the hall quicker than you can blink, leaving you behind in the otherwise empty room with only your heart thumping in your chest.

Your legs get yanked further down the bed, as almost luminescent eyes stare down at you. You wish you could say you were asleep, but Legato turned out to be right. Even master Knives has urges— that are now being inflicted upon your body as he nestles between your legs again. “Nai, promise me- I want you to go check on my family. I want to make sure they’re safe.” He’s ignoring you, circling your nipples with playful fingers before he leans down to kiss you all over. “Knives~”

After he sucks another hickey into you, he gets nose to nose with you, before dipping to kiss you there too- and biting your bottom lip as he groans. “You’re so whiny.”

“You promised. If I stayed with you… you’d take care of them. My sister and my parents will worry.”

His handsome face is always so awfully blank. In sharp contrast with the brightness of his eyes, and all that you can convince yourself to see in them. It’s so much easier to sacrifice yourself, when you know that you’re doing the right thing. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and pout. “You took the plant… All I want is for them to be okay.”

“They’re taken care of,” he mumbles robotically, before raising a brow. “I promise. Wouldn’t lie to you.” The hands instantly start roaming again, as his thighs push yours open to create more room for his hips, and the way he’s pushing inside you ever so slowly. The low groan he lets out is rumbly, cockhead stretching you around him so that your back arches. The wetness between your legs is hot, and ever since the first time, he’s wanted to be inside you as much as possible. The slick sounds fill the room as he sits back and watches his cock slide into you, squeezing your hips tight.

You cling onto him when he bottoms out, and forces another kiss onto your mouth. Whispers your name as he pulls out, and fucks back into you with a grunt. You can’t help but be grateful that master Knives isn’t all that bad.

#tw.noncon #tw.yandere #tw.death #knives million yandere #🍯honey.pot #trigun smut #dark content

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corviddrawsstuff · 8 months ago

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hey trans guys at what point in your transition do you have to start leaving a little dirt under your pillow for the dirt man

#the gotdamn song is stuck in my head #my post #dirt man #carter vail

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allzelemonz · 1 year ago

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Pain: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, language Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, blood kink, anal fingering, anal sex, anal tearing, blood as lube, hurt/comfort, aftercare, unhealthy coping, Reader doesn’t finish Summary: Micah never lets you comfort him without a fight.

It is never often that the sound of sniffling comes from Micah. After a nightmare during his rare sleep maybe, but that’s about it. So looking at him sitting there in your tent, hands spinning one gun and rubbing the handle of the other as he tries to hold himself together, it kind of breaks your heart. You follow your first instinct, getting a bit closer.

“You alright?”

Micah’s head snaps up and he tries to wipe the tears from his puffy red features before you can notice. “Just fine, darlin’.”

You watch him for a minute before getting too heartbroken at the sight of his hands shaking. “Do you need a hug?”

He scoffs. “A man don’t need a damn hug like some little girl.”

“Most people need affection, Micah.”

He chews on his lip for a moment before he grins and reaches out to squeeze your thigh. “Then come on and gimme some damn affection, cowboy.”

You grab his hand, holding it instead. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He chuckles dryly. “You’re sayin’ you don’t wanna turn me over and fuck me inta the ground like I deserve?”

“Micah--”

He grips your hand, pulling down so you fall on top of him. “Just fuck me, sweetheart.” He mutters, hands already going to your gunbelt. “Fuck me an’ don’t stop ‘til I actually got somethin’ ta sob about.”

You grip his hands, tight enough to hurt because that’s the only thing that he ever lets get to him. Pain. “If you’re crying then you clearly have something to cry about.”

“Come on, cowpoke.” He groans, tugging his arms from your grip and putting a hand right over your dick as he kneads. “Can’t be weak.”

You hiss and the feeling of Micah rubbing your pants into your dick, the fabric bringing friction that makes it harden fast. In a quick motion, you shove him back then flip him over. Micah snickers to himself as he lifts his hips up for you, sticking his own nose into the dirt. You tug his pants down and spit on your hand, fueled by annoyance but knowing that he’s not gonna let up about this until it’s done.

All at once, you stuff two fingers inside him and grip his hip to hold him still as you start fucking him roughly with your fingers. He groans into the ground and you can see the slight bobbing of his stiff dick between his legs. The only thing that ever gets through, pain. So you don’t prep him much more, just spreading his cheeks and spitting on his hole before fishing yourself out and burying deep inside.

Micah bites his hand to keep from screaming, his mind swimming from the sick feeling that he finds himself loving so much. Every motion makes him want more and more. You start to slide more easily and he moans at the thought of you ripping him open, bleeding onto your dick as you fuck him, your seed seeping into deep wounds.

“Shit…” He whines, his dick twitching. Your fingers leave bruises to hold up his limp body as he spurts out spend onto the ground.

In the next second, you pull out and guide him down gently. Your dick aches and the cold air doesn’t make it any better, but you tuck it away and care for Micah. You get a pillow under his head, a blanket over you both as you draw him close and he hides in your chest. It doesn’t take long for his body to shake with sobs and tears to hit your shirt. You hold him, one hand rubbing his hair as you kiss his head. Softness only after roughness.

The only thing that gets through.

Pain.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #micah bell #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader #x reader #x male reader

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maltmealo · 10 months ago

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Chapter 16: Trouble

"Should he be so little?"

"Don't worry, he'll grow up big and strong just like ----"

"Huh... they grow."

“You got all this for me?” The room you had been staying in had been spruced up to look more or less like a small one-room apartment, complete with a kitchen and all that had been stocked with canned goods and none perishables, as well as some bags of fruits on the counters. You’re blankets and pillows had been organized to make a somewhat good nest, complete with a small tv pushed against the wall.

“Yeah, with all the moping you’ve been doing around we thought it would be nice for you to have a room instead of sleeping next to Ratchet all the time.” Cliffjumper says, a proud expression on his face as he pokes his head through the doorway to get a good look, “We did all the hard work, Doctor Sowa got the food.”

“I appreciate the gesture but… won’t I die without being near one of you guys?” you ask, looking towards Cliffjumper with a concerned expression.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, my room is right next to yours, plus, it's my job to take care of you, so I have to make sure our residential human is comfortable.” He grins, pulling his head out of the door. You follow him out and see that he had pulled his head upon command on none other than the quiet doctor, who was now promptly staring at Cliffjumper blankly.

‘Check up.’ he signed, grabbing you by your elbow and all but dragging you into the room, closing the door behind him, and leaving a very confused Cliffjumper outside.

“Doctor Sowa? Are you okay?” You ask as he pulls out a chair and makes you sit on it, he seemed tenser than his usual relaxed and emotionless self, his movements stiffer.

‘Don't trust them.’ he signs as he pulls out a stethoscope from his old-timey doctor bag.

“What? Why?” You ask, a confused look on your face as the doctor lifts your shirt up and presses the cold metal against your back.

He doesn’t respond, unstrapping your sling and taking your arm into both of his hands.

It felt wrong, or looked wrong, something about his hands had dipped into an uncanny valley, maybe it was the fact that they were long and spindly, or maybe that they were a little too smooth, but maybe that was just because he took care of himself-

CRACK

You froze, your breath catching in your chest as you squeezed your eyes shut tight, expecting the loud crack to be one or multiple of your bones breaking but you felt no pain. A hand touches your cheek, pulling you out of your shocked state as you open your eyes.

A faint melody reaches your ear, not one you recognized, not made by man or nature, a calm steady mix of almost autotuned dinging and a humming that sounded nothing like the tense humming of Optimus.

‘I would never hurt you.’ he signs as he lets go of your dumbstruck face, taking out a pair of scissors and carefully snipping away the fabric that held the down broken plaster together. Your arm was healed, it had just been two weeks and your broken arm no longer ached or screamed whenever you even thought of using your muscles. He takes a rag out of his bag and pours some water on it, slowly but gently cleaning up your arm from all the dirt that had congealed under your cast.

You stare at him- or rather listen to him, it was so much more soothing to hear this, it wasn’t forced or overwhelming, it wasn’t something that invaded your brain and gave you a headache, it was calm, communication in the purest form.

“I can hear you,” You whisper, a smile growing on your face as you push what he had said earlier to the back of your mind and what he had just done, “it's beautiful.”

He sets the damp rag down, tilting his head as he looks down at you, his unchanging eyes staring into the depths of your soul.

‘It's nothing,’ he signs finally, putting away the stethoscope, before looking up at you again.

“It’s not nothing, it's you,” You smile, listening intently to the music, “I didn’t realize humans could do that, it sounds so much sweeter than the ‘bots.”

He gives you a strange look before reaching up and setting his hands on either side of your face, gently tilting it around as his fingers press into your pulse.

He was testing to make sure your neck didn’t hurt, of course, any other reason would be unthinkable, he had a job to do, and he couldn’t get feeling for a patient of all people in the universe.

You wince when he digs his cold fingers in just a little too hard like he was trying to dig his fingers into your veins to feel the rush of blood that kept you alive. He pulls away quickly at your reaction, resting his hands above his lap.

‘Apologies,’ he signs when he raises his hands again, taking a step away from you and looking around the room.

“No worries, I’ve been through enough to handle a little pain,” you tease, standing up off the chair as you rub your wrist, flexing each finger individually to test them. You follow his gaze in looking around the room, “nice isn’t it?”

‘It is unique,’ he turns back to you, looking you up and down, ‘are you still in pain?’

“No my arm feels fine,” you roll your wrist in demonstration, twisting your arm in circles and bending it.

‘Not that,’ he grabs your hand and places it against your chest and you wince, it felt like all the air had been forced out of your lungs, it was confusing and dazing, painful and not at the same time. You didn’t even realize it but your legs had given out on you and Doctor Sowa was now supporting you, ‘this.’

You stare up at him, what was this? It was like all the memories you needed to answer his question had been locked away. You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, it felt like your body had shut down everything in order to focus on the feeling of his hand pressed against yours. Your ears were ringing, your senses were in overdrive to find something to grab onto.

He takes his hand away and everything feels like it restarted, you take a gasp of air that you didn’t realize you needed, your legs finally support your body and everything comes rushing back.

He gingerly places a hand on your back, taking one of your arms and guiding you to sit down on the bed. He sits down beside you, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath as he rubs your back gently.

The music came back into the forefront of your mind, pulling you out of the sensory overload you had just experienced. It reminded you, that you weren’t alone, he was here with you, a man who sounded so much sweeter than anything you had ever heard before. You were safe here, in the tiny nook made by giants and now owned by you.

“I'm gonna say no,” You finally get out, blinking a couple of times as tears drip down your face. You reach up and touch them, maybe it was from pain, maybe it was because of the overwhelming feelings you just felt, or maybe it was from a host of other reasons that you didn’t want to know. All you knew was that you were crying and the tears weren’t stopping.

It hurt and you couldn’t help the sob that left your mouth, you covered your mouth, the pain just bringing everything to the surface as you tried to stay calm and stop crying.

That was what you were trying to do this whole time, you weren’t going home, you weren’t going to see Meryl or find out if he ever survived or not, you weren’t going to see your family, you were going to die in this universe probably crushed underfoot like everyone else, weren’t you?

They promised though, the aliens who had swooped in and saved you from falling and becoming a stain on the hard ground of a place that wasn’t home. Optimus had promised you that after everything you were going home. You were going home after this.

You take a few more seconds to calm your breath, tears still falling down your cheeks even though you weren’t sobbing. He pulls his hand away from your back, allowing you some space to reset your body manually.

“Yeah, definitely not okay,” you laugh, wiping your tears away with your sleeve as you sniffle. the ache was still there, hollow and hurting.

‘It isn’t getting better,’ he signs, watching you with the same expression he always had, still and sound, like a rock or an anchor.

“But Ratchet said if I-”

He slaps a hand over your mouth, his eyes drilling into yours as he slowly releases your lips.

‘They did this,’ he signs, his hand pressing against your chest gently, it was not nearly enough to hurt you this time, ‘they don’t want to be responsible.’

“Why wouldn’t they want that? They seem like good people stuck in a bad situation,” you reply back, frowning at his answer. They did want was best for you, they wouldn’t have saved you otherwise, they would have thrown you out to the dogs if they didn’t.

‘They killed my children.’

What should have been silence was filled with the somber melody of his soul, you felt it. You felt his pain and anguish, you could almost see it through his eyes, feel the wetness of death on your fingers, but the memories pull away, leaving you on the precipice of sadness and confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, unable to think of anything else to say than to apologize on the Autobots' behalf, what would you say? Would you defend the death of children? Say that it wasn’t the Autobots' fault that his kids were stupid enough to get underfoot or get stuck in the crossfire? Or would you say that the Autobots had changed? That they may have meant to do it but they’re different now.

You swallow down your thoughts and clear your throat, “how old were they?”

‘Too young.’ he responds, staring you down like he knew what you were thinking.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, your voice stuck in your throat as you avert your gaze, “there’s nothing I can say to justify your loss.”

He stays silent, not moving his hands anymore, just staring at you. You look down at your lap biting your tongue as you stay silent. You didn’t know where to go from here, sure you’ve had this conversation with Meryl before, but now it was different, something inside of you was preventing you from saying anything.

Suddenly, he clasps your hand in both of his, guiding it into this lap and pulling you out of your thoughts as he gives it a squeeze. You look back up at him, his gaze no longer intense but now… sad.

“What were they like?” you find the words, it was easy now, he was human like you, he mourned and grieved, if he was angry at you it wasn’t because of anything you did.

‘They were… troublemakers,’ he signs letting go of your hand but letting it rest in his lap as he speaks in hands, ‘fighters to the very end, a… dynamic duo if you will.’

“Early in the hospital, you said there were three, what was that one like?”

‘He was smart, a fighter, he protected his brothers,’ his hand movements getting slower as he stares off into space, ‘he went first.’

“They sound like handfuls,” you laugh softly, smiling at the descriptions, “what were their names?”

He pauses, focusing back on your face. He shakes his head, grabbing your hand again and squeezing it.

He didn’t want to talk about it, seeing his children get shot down and crushed by the Autobots who claimed to be for peace. To be forced to see those who had mercilessly slaughtered them for the sake of someone who could die without them.

You were just like him in a sense, smart but naive, you trusted that the people who were liars to keep you safe and heal you. They didn’t know they were liars and that was going to get you killed in the most agonizing way possible.

“Do you want a hug?”

A question so simple it made him stop. He slowly nodded, releasing your hand to let you hug him.

You lean in, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him, it was awkward at first. so much so that you almost pulled away, but slowly he hugged back, his arms resting around your back and adding a pleasant pressure to your back.

“You remind me of someone,” you mutter, resting your head on his chest, the song is louder now, but it still held the quiet grieving tone, “his name was Meryl, he taught me a lot.”

His hand lays flat on your back, rubbing circles into it, it was comforting to feel a genuine human touch after two months of only being picked up and held by giant robots. Hell, the last time you were held like this was when you left for college, and now after all the stress, it was more than nice.

You stay like that, wrapped in each other's limbs for what seems like hours before he pulls away, lifting up his hands and cupping your cheeks.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he touched your eyes where they were still red and puffy. He stares at the red rings, his fingers stained with the salty liquid that covered your own face.

He stands up quickly, going to the full-sized fridge and rifling through it before returning with a water bottle. He pops off the cap in a single upward movement, handing you the incorrectly opened water bottle.

“Um… thank you,” you say as you take a sip of the water, the cold water washed down your throat as you tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling as you chug about half of the bottle.

‘You were beginning to get dehydrated, that is dangerous,’ he explains, taking the bottle from your hand and setting it down on the table as he sets back down.

It was silent for a few moments as you stared at each other, it wasn’t awkward, more like a mutual understanding of… not knowing what more to say.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a harsh knocking.

“Doctor Sowa! It’s time to go.” Agent Fowler’s voice breaks through the silence as both of you turn your heads to look at the door.

He looks back at you, a silent question being transmitted between the two of you, are you okay?

You nod, giving him a meek smile as you stand up. He suddenly grabs your hand and pulls you back down, bringing you into a tight hug. He had been hesitant when you hugged him, but now he was confident, smooth, and strong. It was confusing for sure, he had been so untouchy from the moment you met him, only touching you when absolutely necessary.

His hand touches the back of your head, pressing you further into his body. He forces your face into his shoulder, almost like he was trying to shield your vision from something terrible.

Citrus.

He smelt like citrus, which one you couldn’t tell but it was distinct, like a freshly pealed orange or a squeezed lemon. It almost smelt like those cleaners your mother kept under the counter to clean with from time to time.

It was silent but so loud at the same time, his very life force grasping at yours to tell you something, the melody didn’t hurt like the bashing singular sound of Ratchet and it didn’t feel like you were getting forced to calm down.

It was simple, the message he was giving you was so incredibly simple and so hard to understand at the same time.

‘Thank you.’

#tfp #transformers x reader #transformers #arcee x reader #optimus prime x reader #bulkhead #bumblebee x reader #cliffjumper #ratchet x reader

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gurugirl · 2 years ago

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omg loved your blog. pls give me a lil spoiler of whats coming next

So... I've got a whole bunch of things coming. I looked through my drafts and documents and feel like this one is something I can share with you guys. I've got the story maybe halfway done and I've been working on it slowly for about 6 months. I don't know when I'll post it but you asked for a sneak peek for something so here's something to tide you over.

For context this is burlesque dancer!Y/n and rich CEO!Harry (this is a combination of requests I've received all in one story).

...

The sign read: 24-hour breakfast. $2.99 all-you-can-eat pancakes. The one she drove past every day.

She imagined slathering each stack with butter and syrup and surprising the staff when she went for seconds and thirds. Her stomach growled as she got into place behind the other girls and the music started. Bethany raised a brow at her when she heard it.

The routine was the same as the week before. They had a short break before they went back up and did another set. Y/n hadn’t been in such a good mood in weeks, knowing what was coming after the show. She was shaking with the anticipation of finally eating something of substance.

Like last week, the main dancers got to use the locker room first. Y/n and the others sat at the end of the bar and watched the guests leave as they chatted. They never got into anything too deep. Y/n wasn’t keen on telling the others about her situation. It was embarrassing. She was technically homeless and she was dirt broke. But Angelique had given them their checks and Y/n was more than happy to use it. She wouldn’t cash it that night because it was too late, but she planned on using her credit card to buy the $2.99 buffet pancakes. Maybe she’d splurge on eggs as well.

After showering and charging her phone she nearly skipped to her car. She parked strategically under a lamppost and noticed right away a man leaning on her front bumper.

“Excuse me?” She stopped halfway between the building and her car, ready to run back into the building if needed.

The man stood and she saw the chocolate curls of the British man she’d met the week before.

“Sorry! I thought I’d wait out here for you. I wanted to tell you that you did a great job in there,” he smiled kindly. That sweet smile, dimples and all.

Y/n let out the breath she’d been holding and finished walking toward her car. She figured she could trust Harry at this point.

“It’s okay. Just startled me a little to see someone leaning on my car. And, uh, thanks!”

She dug her keys out of her bag and walked next to Harry. He was taller than she thought. She hadn’t stood directly next to him before but now that he was only a few feet from her as she unlocked her car door she noticed it.

Harry pointed into her windshield, “I don’t mean to pry or anything, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but I noticed the blankets and pillows in the backseat. Is that… are you…?” Harry didn’t finish his sentence but Y/n knew what he was asking.

Normally she folded up the blankets and stuffed the pillows into the floorboards nicely but this morning she didn’t care. She’d been in such a good mood about the upcoming pancake dinner that she left it all strewn about.

She thought for a moment about how to answer. She looked down at her shoes and sighed, “Just temporary. It’s not a big deal,” she brushed it off.

Harry stayed quiet. But the longer he was silent the stranger it felt. Y/n looked back up at him and he was stoic. Deep in thought. Her stomach growled and she groaned. It was like if all the most embarrassing things in life could come out all at once in front of a handsome man it happened right then. She was hungry and homeless. That was the truth. And Harry was now aware of this fact.

Harry sighed and his face softened, “Look. I know it can get hard out here. But, let me buy you something to eat at least. I was hoping to chat with you anyway. Maybe we could just… I don’t know… get to know one another over a drink, or food. No pressure,” Harry was cautious. He knew he could be overstepping a little. But he probably felt it was necessary based on the circumstance he was now aware of.

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not necessary, Harry. I just got paid. I was going to buy myself something to eat. You really don’t need to…” The look on his face had her pausing her words. Harry’s brows were raised and the soft grin told her he wasn’t buying her I-don’t-need-your-help act.

“Fine. Then you buy yourself something to eat. Can I join you at least?”

And so that’s how she found herself at the dingy diner sitting across from Harry in a booth as she shoveled pancakes in her mouth. Harry ordered a coffee. Black.

Harry watched her for a bit as she scarfed down her first plate. Y/n tried to hold a conversation while eating but her body was on autopilot. She needed to eat. Harry could see that too.

When she finished the first plate she looked up at Harry. He was leaned back, comfortable in the booth with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused look on his face.

She licked her lips and sipped the orange juice before clearing her throat, “What?” She felt embarrassed. It was probably quite obvious to Harry what was going on.

“Nothing. Still hungry?” He smirked and leaned forward to the table, putting his forearms over the linoleum and clasped his hands together in front of him. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows again and Y/n could make out the dark tattoos that went up one arm.

She breathed out a laugh at the question. Without a doubt, she was still hungry. She nodded, “I am. Yes. Is it okay if I grab another plate? Do… uh, do you want anything other than coffee?”

Harry shook his head and kept his eyes on hers, “I’m fine. I’ve eaten today. Go and get another plate, love. I’ll be right here.”

Y/n brought back another stack of pancakes with a handful of margarine butter packets and went to work to make her second plate as sugary, fattening, and calorific as possible.

“So, where are you from, Y/n?” Harry took a sip of his coffee, and Y/n saw him wince. She doubted the coffee was any good. Especially black. It was probably old and bitter and room temperature. But she appreciated that he was sitting with her and trying to fill the void of loneliness. Though she would have been fine to sit and eat her pancakes in silence.

“Bible belt. Nowhere,” she kept her eyes on her meal, drizzling the maple-flavored syrup over the top.

Harry laughed, “I see. Okay. So, why are you here in Nevada? Big dreams of becoming a famous dancer?”

Y/n shoved a forkful into her mouth and shook her head, putting her finger up as she chewed. Another sip of her orange juice and she finally responded, “No. I needed a change of scenery. I am a dancer. Well, I have a bachelor’s in dance. I’m not a professional or anything. It was sort of a whim, but a good one. There was nothing keeping me back home. What about you Harry? Where are you from? How did you get here?” She tried to change the subject from herself to him.

She ate while Harry told her his story. He was born in Manchester and got a business degree in London and then moved to California when he was in his mid-twenties after being offered a job at a private equity firm.

After a couple of years at the firm he and a close friend of his decided on opening up their own business, a startup. Which turned out to be quite profitable early on. Harry was a managing partner and owner of a wealth management group specifically for entertainment companies. Like burlesque clubs. Like Haute Baude. The owner, Richard, hired Harry as his wealth management agent years ago and they grew close.

Y/n knew next to nothing about the finance world so she just nodded and hummed along, “Wow. So, you’re doing well. A successful businessman,” she smiled and licked her fork clean.

Harry chuckled and tilted his head to the side, “I guess so. You’re impressive too, you know. It was brave to come out here all by yourself.”

There was a bit of quiet after he spoke those words. Y/n smiled down at her empty plate and then looked up at Harry. His coffee cup was empty.

“And you’re cute,” Harry spoke the words quietly but he kept his eyes on hers.

Y/n set her fork down and kept her eyes on the handsome man, squinting at him in question. She didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t really been flirting with her, that she could tell, but she was aware of the way he was looking at her. How when she’d take a bite he’d watch her lips move and he kept licking his own lips.

“Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that,” Harry said but he didn’t hide his smile well when he pulled his lips into his mouth, that reaction only drew his dimples in deeper and it made Y/n smile and laugh.

She shook her head and looked down. His eyes were getting to her. His intense gaze was alluring. Harry was charming and handsome. She didn’t know what his intentions were but he seemed nice at least.

When Harry remained quiet for a beat longer than was comfortable Y/n looked back up at him. She couldn’t help but smile back at his expression and she laughed, “It’s okay. You haven’t been obnoxious or anything. I just… I’m a mess and hearing that threw me off a bit.”

“What do you mean you’re a mess?” Harry asked.

“I mean, well, come on… you saw my car. And here I am buying $2.99 all-you-can-eat buffet pancakes at 2 am the moment I get a paycheck. I’m… down on my luck a little. But I think things are better now. For one, my tummy’s full,” Y/n smiled shyly. She hated that this successful man was privy to her misfortune, but he felt trustworthy.

Harry shook his head, “Not a mess. Just a victim of circumstance. Are you sleeping in your car tonight?” He raised his brows in question.

Y/n looked to the corner of the room and breathed out a huff of breath and pursed her lips as she nodded before looking back at Harry with a shrug, “Have nowhere else to go.”

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