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mydearlybeloathed · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ¹

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: once upon a time, you weaseled your way into the demon pirate hunter's confidance, and maybe even his heart too. but one bounty gone wrong leads to you being left behind, and you just can't understand why. now, zoro's departure draws near, and your tolerance of his bullshit has run thin. it's time to face this, or risk losing him forever.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, angst with a happy ending (sort of), mention of alcohol, an oc i really like :), reader has a backstory, takes place three years before Zoro meets Luffy

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: lost at sea

The breeze washed in from the sea, brushing your hair away from your face so you couldn't hide behind it any longer.

The stitched up slash across your back throbbed with every breath you took, and honestly, you were shocked you were even standing this long. But you’d spent three days lying in a stupid bed, arguing with your green-haired companion to no avail. You couldn't stand to lay down any longer.

He was leaving you on this stupid fucking island, and there was nothing you could say to dissuade him.

So now, standing on the docks of Syrup Village, you tried to ignore how your heart ached watching Zoro make arrangements with the captain of a nearby supply ship. Despite every hardship you’d known in your life, never had you felt so helpless. And that was saying something.

It felt like just yesterday you’d been an apprentice under a skilled apothecary, studying chemistry and botany day in and day out, displaying prowess in the field. You were on your way to opening your own apothecary one day. Until the pirates attacked.

For years after they sieged your village, you were the decorated captive of cruel pirates, forced to use your knowledge and skill to craft poisons that would end hundreds of lives over the course of your imprisonment. The fates of your faceless victims haunted you by night, even now.

But then, after so long of that neglect and servitude, you were freed. It was just over a year ago the pirate crew was torn apart by a single boy with green hair and three swords. His intention hadn't been to rescue you, of course, that was clear by the bounty he took on the captain of the ship. But he didn’t leave you there, and to you, that meant everything.

Zoro found you annoying to no end, what with your insistence that you repay your debt to him despite his insistence that he wanted nothing to do with you. Still, he never truly forced you away, not finding it in himself to do so.

So leads the tale of how you forced your company upon the notorious Demon Pirate Hunter, becoming his life’s greatest annoyance, and consequently, his only friend.

Zoro had never been too socially inclined, always managing to say the wrong thing. He felt glaring was the extent of communication he needed—and you never minded. You let him have his silence and made a little game out of trying to make him be the first to break it.

When he glared, you glared right back, keeping his stare with twitchy eyes and silly expressions until he had to break the contact, lest you discover the smile hidden on his face.

Eventually, he stopped trying to ditch you at every port, opting to feign sleep and curl into your side atop a musty inn mattress, shared to “save beri” as he put it. You knew it was more than that, of course, but you let him keep the pretense that he wasn’t fond of you for at least a little while more.

The pair of you fought side by side, tracking down pirates by day and whispering in low-lit corners by night. The happiest you’d ever been was by Zoro’s side, but all happy things end.

Zoro’s most recent bounty had gone very, very south.

One moment you were in the middle of following Zoro’s lead, taking out the sparse crew with your dagger. It was supposed to be a simple job, with you covering Zoro as he went for the captain of the crew. Key word being supposed.

The motions leading up to the fatal moment were still a blur, but you would never forget the cold terror that rushed through you as sharp steel slashed the skin of your back. You collapsed immediately, the pain so great that your body chose to go numb to protect you from the intensity.

And though now you swore you were fine, Zoro saw every paranoid glance you cast over your shoulder, as though afraid it would happen again. Suddenly you felt thrown back in time, meek and terrified in the face of cruel pirates, crafting whatever poison they required.

You weren’t very surprised when Zoro told you he wanted you to remain in Syrup Village, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

The village doctor, a woman called Vee, didn’t hesitate to agree to letting you room with her. She had been looking for someone to split rent with anyway. Vee said she could always pay you to deliver medicine, and after hearing of your background in apothecary, she was very excited to expand on your teaching through an apprenticeship. (You hated to admit you were excited to learn how to cure people, not kill them).

It was all so sudden and unreal. Zoro seemed so eager to leave you behind. He hadn't met your eyes since you’d regained consciousness and your entire being ached from the absence of his ever faint smile.

You didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

Zoro's eyes remained on the ground as he approached you, and only when he stood right in front of you did he raise his gaze scan over your body. Still, he never looked you in your eyes. “Are you sure—”

“I’m fine, Zoro,” you cut him off, saying his name sharply, coldly even. In all honesty, you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep away the pain in your body as well as in your heart. “When do you leave?”

“Sunrise.” So soon. The words left his lips like they had no significance at all. Like this wouldn't be the last time he ever saw you. You’d always known Zoro would put his dream above you… but it was very different to experience it in real time.

It seemed he finally realized what a burden you were. It was only a matter of time, really. You cleared your throat, feeling a burn rise from your neck to your tongue as words begged to be let loose.

Not seeing much point in holding back anymore, you let them.

Your gaze flicked back to his face as got right in his line of sight, catching his eyes and locking him in place. The air felt heavy. “I’ll be better in a week at best. I—”

“No.”

It was like getting smacked in the face all over again. To save you the shame of having him see you cry, you turned your face away, a new wash of anger coming over you. “Fine. Fuck, see if I care… You snore anyway.”

Your voice broke off into a weak crack, and you were turning on your heel to leave him on the pier before he could say anything. With tears rolling down your cheeks, you walked into Vee’s little home, sat on the cot she’d given you, and took off your boots. It didn’t feel like home when you slept your sorrows away. There was no warm body at your back, no arm slipped around your waist that would be gone in the morning, off getting a lead on the next bounty.

Sleep found you, somehow, and your dreams were filled with memories of days much better than this.

જ⁀➴

Zoro hated this. Every emotion he was feeling was another dagger to his lungs. Every break of your heart was a scorch on his chest.

He downed another drink, tossing it back in one motion. You’ll be safe here. Syrup Village was… quaint. Free of any action, free of any danger. Though, the more he looked around, the more he thought that this was not your type of scene. He couldn’t explain why, he just knew: you were going to hate this place.

But you were safe. That was all that mattered.

Zoro called the bartender over for yet another drink, not keeping a tally of how many he’d downed that night. Swirling the alcohol around the glass, he forced away every feeling and every doubt. In Syrup Village, you would recover, away from the danger his line of work required.

Never again would he hold your dying body in his arms.

A figure sidled up to him at the bar. He glanced over. There was Vee, the village doctor, and your new housemate. She looked less than pleased as she snapped for the bartender. Receiving a glass of vodka, she turned to Zoro with steely eyes. “She’s beside herself, you know.”

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this. “What do you know?”

Vee’s brows drew with the challenge. “I know that poor girl is lying in my house crying over you, asshole.” She tipped her drink back and slammed it back down. “Let me tell you somethin’, Pirate Hunter.”

Zoro waited, eyes locked on the counter. “The moment she woke up, you know what she said?” Vee let out a weary sigh. “She said where’s Zoro? Is Zoro okay? I need to see Zoro.”

“Your point?”

“My point,” Vee nearly snarled. “Is that I’ve known her what, two days? And it’s already plain to me. If your plan is to make her care for you turn into loathing, you’re on the right track, pal.”

Gripping his empty glass, Zoro was at a loss. He knew you cared for him. Hell, he cared for you just as much, if not more. Which is why he had to do this. You could barely even stand—he saw through your act in seconds—and it’d be much longer than a week for you to entirely recover from your injuries. He felt like clawing out his hair, like screaming even. Why did the right thing feel so very wrong?

Vee leaned on the counter, kissing her teeth. “My advice? Don’t leave with her thinking this is on her.”

“Why would she—”

“Trust me.” Vee settled him with a glare. “She thinks this is her fault.”

Vee knew nothing, Zoro told himself. Vee had no right to step in on his relationship with you, or lack thereof. There was no way in hell Zoro would let Vee’s words get to him.

Which is why he was sitting on the curb across from Vee’s house, trying to figure out what to say to you that would salvage the only friendship he’d had since Kuina.

His head in his arms, Zoro tapped his toe on the cobblestones, and closed his eyes. What would Kuina think of him, so frazzled over a girl like he was a kid again. Not just any girl, though. This was you, so it mattered more than he was ready to admit.

A little grin worked its way up his face. Kuina would call him a coward. She’d punch his arm and tell him to just lay it all out.

“She hates me,” he whispered to no one. “I’m making her hate me.”

Like a ghost, he swore he heard the smug voice of his sparring partner at his side, a ghost's words burning into his brain: What are you gonna do about it, Roronoa?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, pathetically regretting every choice that led him to this moment, but it had been long enough for the street lamps to shut off, casting the road in a dull darkness enough to make him start creating figures in the shadows.

Rubbing at his eyes, Zoro decided he needed some sleep. He left early in the morning, after all. But you, his heart screamed, in direct contrast with his head.

You had completely infiltrated Zoro’s life. You were brash and defiant, insisting on following him around the East Blue until you could repay him for freeing you from your bastard captors. You stayed even after your life debt was paid, your hurricane person sticking to his side. You were like a bruise he discovered one day, unsure where it’d come from and at a loss as to when it would go.

Even now, you were a sore on his heart, working your way into his very soul.

His every blink was haunted by your smile. His every move was watched by your admiring gaze. These days he couldn’t even breathe without knowing you’re safe.

Zoro knew that even if he left and never turned back, he’d never get rid of you. There was too much of you wrapped up in him, and it was terrifying.

He raised his eyes to the house across from him, and glanced over the hand painted sign reading Healing Remedies and Modern Medicines swinging in the midnight breeze. The light in the top window taunted him, the draping curtains daring him to walk in and reconcile.

But what if you didn’t want to? Your temper had always been reliable, never failing to rain upon those who wronged you. Zoro had never had the privilege of being on the receiving end of your wrath, and he was in no mood to start.

A sigh forced its way out of him, heart thundering for reasons beyond him, and Zoro had to wonder why exactly he cared so much.

He was the Demon of the East Blue. The most feared pirate hunter this side of the Grand Line. He wielded Wado Ichimonji. And yet, Roronoa Zoro was crippled by the thought of how crestfallen you had looked that evening. When he’d told you no, something he rarely ever did. If only he could just tell you…

The light in the window went off, and he was really, truly, completely in the dark.

His head hit his knees, one hand going to rest on his sword. Zoro had no clue what to do. Perhaps… Perhaps it would be best to leave it all at this. You would grow to hate him, eventually, but you would never be hurt because of him ever again.

“You’re gonna catch a cold.”

Zoro just about unsheathed his sword, halfway standing by the time his eyes readjusted to the dark, and the outline of you settled in his head. You stood there in a nightgown with your arms crossed, expression unreadable.

He relaxed, sitting back on the curb and averting his eyes. He heard you scoff, the fabric of your dress rustling as you moved to sit beside him. “Idiot,” you murmured, and he had to agree.

Instead of saying what he wanted to, Zoro demanded, “What’re you doing?”

Your eyes burned into the side of his skull, unrelenting in your blatant scorn. Sucking in a breath and letting it out, you felt your tolerance for bullshit meet its end. “I'm sitting. Zoro?”

When he barely even hummed in reply, face turned away from you, you rolled your eyes and grabbed his chin, jerking him around to look you in the eyes. The surprise on his face would’ve been funny had you not been pissed. “Zoro, grow up.”

Zoro would’ve given you the world. He would’ve killed anyone, stolen anything; all you had to do was ask. Yet, he couldn’t seem to find the words, no matter how he tried to force them. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to…” As the sentence faltered on your tongue, Zoro saw that same starvation for the right thing to say in your eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Releasing his chin, you shifted to face Vee’s house, hugging your knees to your chest and allowing the silence to swallow the conversation whole. Your frustration was palpable, radiating off your skin and latching onto Zoro, till the both of you were simply sitting on the curb amidst the complexity of emotions in the air.

It was infuriating.

You raked your hands through your hair and whirled on him suddenly. “I want to know why you’re abandoning me.”

“You’re injured,” he deadpanned, prompting a hefty sigh from you.

“Wounds heal. I’ll heal.” You searched his face, finding he betrayed absolutely nothing, per usual. “Do you think I’m weak?”

His rebuttal was immediate, and quick to be cut off. “I—”

“Because in case you don’t remember, I was on a pirate ship for years before I met you.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know I’m not easy.” Suddenly out of breath, you expelled all your thoughts. “I know I’m annoying and I probably do more harm than good and trust me, I know I’m a burden but I thought maybe… I thought maybe we were friends. I thought that maybe…”

Faltering, you forced yourself to face him, if only to see how much damage you’d done. Imagine your surprise when you found his gaze already zeroed in on you.

His eyes had always been beautiful, always so deep that it felt like you could drown in them if you let yourself. And now they bore into you with an intensity you were unaccustomed to.

“You’ve never been a burden,” he told you.

Raising a brow, “Never?”

You swore you could practically see the memories replayed in his eyes as a little smirk pulled at his lips. “Maybe at first.”

As quickly as it’d formed, your grin slid away, replaced by that same hopeless frown.

You felt it like cupping water in your hands; Zoro was slipping through your fingers with every second that passed. “I just don’t understand. I mean, I get that you liked the lone bounty hunter life but—”

Zoro shook his head. “That’s not it.”

At a loss, you looked at him with a pleading sort of gaze, glassy eyes nearly driving him over the edge. “Then tell me what is. Because I’m just gonna keep spitting out words and we both know that won’t end well.”

For a long time, he didn’t say a word. Maybe he couldn’t, you thought. Was it unfair to demand explanations from him? You were on the brink of telling him to forget everything and wishing him a safe journey, when he spoke, a quake in the usual even tone of his voice.

“Do you even remember what happened?”

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and then the bandages wrapping from your back to your chest became all the more tangible, and your throat went dry. “I… Of course I do,” you said, not entirely sure it was true.

Zoro passed a hand over his face, fidgeting. “Do you remember how much blood you lost? How deep that wound is?” He could barely meet your eyes now, every ounce of the confidence you knew and loved gone missing. “Do you remember that your heart stopped beating?”

You hadn’t known. You hadn’t known any of that… but Zoro did, you realized, aching as he seemed to glare at the space ahead of him. “If I hadn’t gotten you here in time, you would have died.” His jaw set, tight fists rested on his knees. “You nearly died because of me.”

You reacted instantly—you couldn’t stand that look on his face—swiftly reaching for his hand and taking it in yours. “I didn’t die,” you insisted, “because of you. It is not your fault.”

He squeezed your hand. He didn’t really believe you, and you weren’t sure you could say anything to convince him. And when he met your gaze, you swore your heart swelled as realization set in.

You’d always had a hunch that your feelings were reciprocated—you’d always felt that he loved you too. Yet now, as you stared into his pretty eyes, it became a truth settled into the depths of your longing heart. So that’s what this is all about, you thought.

This all felt so wrong. How could he be leaving in the morning, with so many things left unsaid? And if you finally put these emotions to words now, what good would it do?

The prospect of never seeing him again was worse than death itself. There was no way you’d let this be goodbye forever.

“Zoro,” you whispered, tugging on his hand to draw his attention. “Sleep with me?”

His eyes slowly raised to your own, soft despite their cold, and he stood, taking you along with him. You led him into Vee’s house and up to the room she’d supplied you with. Zoro’s hand never once left yours, his thumb running circles on your skin.

When you grimaced as you tried to lay back on the bed, Zoro was there in an instant, letting you squeeze the life out of his hand as he settled down beside you.

He couldn’t help it: ”What was that about being fine?”

It dragged a laugh out of you, and you gazed over at him with your adoration wrapped up in your face. Zoro had never done anything wrong in your eyes—well, except leaving you behind, that is.

You brushed his hair off his forehead, your fingers drifting down to graze his cheek. At long last, the little smile was back on his face, though a bit sadder than usual. You’re sure your own grin looked the same. “You’re pretty when you smile.”

Zoro half rolled his eyes, shifting so he was lying on his side as you laid on your back. “Yeah, you’ve told me.”

“I wanna tell you again,” you shrugged. There was so much you needed to say, but the air was already so full of words, and you were tired. Tonight, you could lay by his side once more, and pretend watching a random barge take him away wouldn't tear your heart in two.

જ⁀➴

Zoro’s spot on the bed was cold when Vee came storming into the room the next morning.

Bleary eyed, you blinked sleep away as her frantic words left you confused to no end. You sat up only to have a dress thrown in your face. Looking it over, you questioned, “What?”

“Get up!” Vee ordered, her tan face a furious shade of red. “Up! Up!”

Your mind wasn’t catching up to your body. Your gaze fell to the bed, and the place where Zoro should have been. The sheets were tossed aside and his boots were gone. A cold pit formed in your gut. “Where’s Zoro?”

Vee exasperated, “The pier!”

In an instant your feet hit the floor, eyes blown wide, all air seized from your lungs. “No! He can’t—”

“Well, he is.” Without warning she spun you around and started to unbutton your night dress. “Put this on. His ship is almost set to leave.”

You’d never dressed so fast in your life, though you lacked shoes and the dress was only halfway tied in the back. You were decent, and that was enough. Bounding out of Vee’s house and through the streets, not one apology left your lips as you dodged in and out of people and carts, set on a desperate sprint to reach the docks.

“I’ll kill him,” you heaved. “I’ll chase him and find him and kill him, dammit.”

Your back ached and your limbs felt weak and you really needed a glass of water, but none of it mattered. If you didn’t make it, none of this mattered.

The flag of the merchant’s ship came into view. The sailors only had a few more crates to load, and then they’d be off. You couldn’t see Zoro anywhere, so there was only one thing left to do: you invaded the ship.

Running up the gangway and ignoring the shouts of the crew on the dock, you stood at the center of the ship’s deck and rounded in a circle, eyes scouring for that green-haired little bitch.

Chest heaving, you nearly whimpered when you still couldn’t see him. Would you have to search the whole ship, turning everything upside down?

You jumped when a hand clamped down on your arm, and you whirled around to find not Zoro, but a very tall, very surly man with a single scar running from his left eye to his jaw. His grip on you was enough to send a shock of fear through you.

“I don’t take kindly to stowaways,” he barked. “And really, you’re not even trying to hide. At least commit to it if you’re thinkin’ of hitchin’ a ride on my ship.”

As you gulped and stared up into his darkly narrowed eyes, there was really only one thing on your mind. “Where is Roronoa Zoro?”

The captain of the ship gaped, and before he could get out another word, a very familiar man rushed down from the helm, a frustrated set in his brow.

You were in no mood for his temper. In a swift motion you broke away from the captain and stormed over to meet Zoro halfway. “There you are, son of a bitch.”

Zoro’s heart was in his head, worried about the deathly glare you now gave him. He steeled himself and started, “I told you—”

“How dare you!” You shoved at his chest, barely knocking him back as crimson tendrils creeped in your vision. “Is this really how you want to leave things?”

He stood solemn, eyes almost sad as they met with yours. “I thought it would be best.”

“For who?” You couldn’t deny the break of your heart, the pieces of it under the sole of his boot. You hoped he saw it on your face. You hoped he acknowledged the damage he’s doing.

The captain awkwardly came up behind you. “Your lass is gonna have to pay for passage, Roronoa.”

“I’m not coming.” “She’s not staying.”

The pair of you kept in a dangerous staring match, your words overlapping.

Still, the captain shuffled on his feet, saying, “Listen, we have a schedule—”

You whirled on him, locking him in place with a single glare. “Give us a minute.” Then, with more sympathy, “Please.”

The captain sighed, rolling his eyes and waving it off as he continued to prepare to depart.

There was little ignoring the curious stares from the ship’s crew as you slowly turned back to Zoro. “You’re a coward.”

“I know.”

“I’m not done,” you said, holding up a hand to stop him. Zoro’s lips snapped shut, his gaze lowering for a moment before he brought it back up, waiting for the blows of your anger.

You took a breath, and finally, “I get why I can’t go with you. I’m a liability. You can’t become the world’s greatest swordsman if you’re busy keeping me alive.” You took a step closer, partially because of the eavesdroppers all around and partially because you wanted to be near him as long as you could.

“So I’ll stay. I'll live and train with Vee and become the greatest fucking apothecary Syrup Village has ever seen. And maybe I’ll even forgive you for trying to leave without a goodbye, if you can tell me why.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Why what?”

You could have screamed at this man you had the displeasing pleasure of falling in love with. “Why do you care so much?”

“You know why,” he said, stubborn as always. Only, maybe he wasn’t being stubborn, you considered as something like hesitation hovered in his gaze.

Still, you persisted. “No, I wanna hear you say it.” You reached out for him, gently setting a hand on his arm to ease some of his tension. “I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth before you sail away from me.”

“You make it sound so definite,” he said, huffing a laugh as he forced a pained smile.

“Zoro.”

His deep eyes burned into you as his hands rose to softly caress your jaw, his hold featherlight. The spinning of the world began to still, the earth on its axis slowing to allow you just enough time. He got impossibly closer, breaking your anger down to a soft annoyance. You really couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Not like this,” Zoro murmured. “When I tell you how I feel, it’s gonna be when I have the time to show you.”

You rested your palms on the hands that cradled your face. “I’m impatient.”

He only grinned, though it barely reached his eyes. “I know.”

You couldn’t bear to waste this precious time crying, choking down the fire in your throat. You teased, “So what I’m hearing is that you like me too much to leave me stranded forever?”

“Something like that,” he said, hands drifting to your waist.

From somewhere behind him, the captain bellowed, “Roronoa!”

“I know!” Zoro called back, never removing himself from you. He pursed his lips before enveloping you in a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of you. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Your fingers carded through his hair. You hid your face in his neck. Anything to relish the feeling of his arms around you. “I suppose I forgive you.” Squeezing him closer, “Just promise to write.”

Pulling away, he pressed his forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You cupped his jaw in your hands and locked with his eyes. “I'll get stronger. I'll come find you someday, or you'll come back, or—something. But we’ll sail together again. Swear it to me.”

He couldn’t help the smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. Then, Zoro did as you asked. “I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

“Good,” you said, voice finally cracking under the pressure building in your chest.

Somewhere in the village, the morning bell rang true. The sun was fully up over the horizon line. Not a cloud disturbed the bluer-by-the-second sky. A perfect day for sailing, you mused.

You stepped away, swiping at your eyes, and smiled as best you could. It was watery, most likely, and conveyed every bit of your melancholy. Casting a look over his shoulder you saw the captain standing there, ticked and holding up his wristwatch. The breath you let out was shaky as you turned back to Zoro.

“Goodbye,” you said, as if that word did this feeling any justice. Before he could say a word in return, you’d lunged forward to press your lips to his cheek, your hands steadying yourself on his biceps. It was quick, nothing but a peck, and enough to make you lose your nerve instantly.

Skin warm and grinning like a fool, you pivoted in a whirl and made for a quick escape, only getting two steps away when an arm hooked around your middle and pulled you back into a broad chest. Zoro’s breath was loud in your ear, so loud you could hear his goofy smile before you saw it.

Your back still hurt like hell, yet nothing could sway the stretch of your lips as you swiveled in his embrace, finding yourself once again in between his arms. In an instant, memories of months gone by haunted your eyes; memories of nights spent sleepless, only filled with the soft graze of his fingers against your arm; of nights in hasty argument over trivial things such as money or fleeting jealousy; and of moments so dear they nearly felt domestic.

And when he drew you into a feverish kiss, his hands clawing at your shirt to just get a grip of you, the sensation of lips on lips made it feel as though he truly was breathing in your soul and giving you his own in turn, the two energies intermingling in a promise sealed with love and lust and labor.

Your ears were ringing when you registered the morning bells had stopped, and you retreated from the moment. Zoro squeezed your hips, eyes shut as he sightlessly pecked your lips again, then pressed a kiss to your forehead. You leaned up and peppered a few kisses to his jaw.

Finally, time had had its fill of freezing, and commands to depart from port were barked out.

Meeting your eyes, Zoro sighed out another apology before tugging you in one last time, his arms wrapping you up in a warm embrace that had your stitches crying out again. You grimaced despite yourself. “Injured. Still injured.”

He laughed, and you swore you’d get drunk on the sound if you weren’t too careful.

"I'll come back," he whispered in your ear. "I'll be the greatest swordsman and you'll be the greatest apothecary in the world."

"That's quite the duo."

“Lass!” called the captain, standing next to the gangway, preparing to pull it in. “You goin’?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless as you took Zoro’s hand, kissed his palm, and turned away before it was too late. You ran off the ship, down the gangway, and far off into the docks. Your head wanted to run back to Vee’s little house and woe around the rest of the day. Your heart wanted something else entirely.

Like you’d been caught in the gut, you froze, instantaneously backtracking in a sprint to the edge of the docks. The ship taking Zoro away was a good way out, but not far enough to block your voice.

Cupping your hands around your mouth: “Zoro! Roronoa Zoro!”

That mop of moss green hair appeared at the ship’s railing. You grinned from ear to ear and bellowed, “I’m impatient! I love you, Zoro! I love you!”

At such a distance, you couldn’t see his exact reaction, and he couldn’t hear the whispers of the passersby that broke out at such a confession. But he’d heard your every word, his hands gripping the railing like he thought he might slip through the wood of the deck and fall right into the belly of the ocean.

A few sailors whooped and hollered and one dared to clap him on the shoulder, and he would have severed that hand from the man had it not been for the red hot affection coursing through his veins. You were waving, and so he raised his hand and limply waved back.

He would be writing to you the moment he got a hold of some paper, Zoro decided. Until then, he stood at the edge of the ship, watching Syrup Village and Gecko Island and you grow smaller and smaller, and then gone.

There was a tightening around his lungs, and as he retreated into the depths of the ship, he knew his heart had remained on land with you. One day, when you were healed and he was strong enough to make sure you never got injured again, he’d have his heart back, and you along with it.

Until then, your paths diverged, to be met once again some years later.

જ⁀➴

Nami’s little ship taking on water was the least ideal occurrence possible. Yet, deep inside, Zoro found it incredibly funny to watch the orange haired girl scramble around all frustrated like this.

“Gecko Islands,” said Nami, drawing Zoro out of his thoughts. She was hunched over her map with Luffy over her shoulder, per usual. “I think we’ll be able to make it before the ship sinks.”

Those words took longer to process than they should’ve, but Zoro couldn’t help it. Gecko Islands? How long had it been, three years maybe? No longer than that, he was sure. His eyes went unfocused at the memory of a laugh that could easily end him and bring him back to life all at once.

“Swear it to me.”

“I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

Nami nodded to herself, saying, “Syrup Village is known for its ships. I say we dock there and ditch this junk.”

He couldn’t believe that luck. Zoro’s lips threatened to quirk into a grin before he got a hold of himself. He rested his hand on his swords and snuffed. “I’ve got a friend in Syrup Village who could help us.”

Nami took off her readers and rolled up her map. “You have friends?”

He shot her a tight smirk. “Just one.”

“And he can help us?” asked Luffy as he took to the ship’s helm.

“She might.” Zoro checked on a knot here and a rope there. With his back to his temporary crew, he let out a small smile. “If she’s happy to see me.”

A surprised grin took Nami's face. “And if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” he assured, only half certain, if he was being honest.

It'd been three years since his promise, after all. Whatever happened next, Zoro could only be certain of one thing: oh, how he missed you.

#zoro #zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece live action sanji #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader

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the-faceless-bride · 2 months ago

Text

My love, mine all mine…

A blurb about you and Anya’s secret relationship while working together.TW:Mentions of what jimmy did (chop his weenie off)

Tag: @spawnofass

You and Anya had a secret relationship, you’d had it for a few years now. Being her partner meant keeping it professional when at work; but that didn’t mean you two didn’t have your private moments when the crew wasn’t around.

Many longing glances between the two of you and passing touches on the shoulder when passing in the halls, moments of silence in the night where you hold hands and gaze at the artificial moon screen.

You two were always near one another, always helping her when you could, and always checking in on her anytime she seemed blue.

You wished you’d checked in more…

Anya had been distant lately, skittish always looking over her shoulder; Even jumping when you placed a hand on her shoulder, you hated having to push for information.

But you couldn’t just leave her like this; she’s shut down not wanting to do any mental evaluations either and when you tried to bring it up to Captain Curly he got twitchy and shifts his eyes like he doesn’t want to talk… or admit to anything telling you he’ll talk to Anya and “Handel it” but whatever it is he’s doing to try and help isn’t working at all.

It wasn’t until you found her a few nights later, you’d heard her running to the bathroom gagging and you rushed to her aid; you walked her to the common area of the ship sitting with her under the artificial moonlight like you have many times before and she than said the last thing you had expected,

“I’m pregnant…”

You for a moment just stared at her in shock, she let a dry laugh trying to lighten the mood “don’t worry it’s not yours,” she joked though she herself didn’t sound amused, “how? We- you?” She placed a hand on yours before gently shaking her head, “I’m not really to talk… please…” she sounded so stuck so conflicted…

You hugged her, holding her tightly “why… why couldn’t they’ve put locks…” she sobbed quietly and that moment you understood, you gently squeezed her in your arms putting your nose in her hair “I’m here, I’m sorry this happened. It won’t ever again, I’ll protect you.”

“I love you Anya…”

She lets out a shaking sigh,

“thank you..”

#mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing x y/n #anya x reader #anya mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing x reader #faceless bride's tag! 🪦🦋#Brides mouthwash 👄🧼

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marlynnofmany · 2 months ago

Text

Singing the Return

(A followup to Singing the Approach)

Our ship touched down like usual, with the captain in the cockpit along with a pilot (it was Kavlae’s shift), talking to the locals about where to park. In a slight departure from usual, this landing pad wasn’t anywhere near the ground. It was on top of a cactus-tree-thing that thankfully (very thankfully) didn’t sway in the wind.

I waited in the cargo bay with Zhee. He was a little twitchy, flicking his antenna and shuffling his legs and generally not holding still. I wasn’t about to say anything about it, but I suspected Zhee wasn’t a fan of heights.

Luckily for him, the landing pad was broad enough that he didn’t need to get close to the edge. Unluckily for him, Captain Sunlight had suggested that he be part of the delivery crew today because he’d been there when we met the clients before, and they would be expecting him.

With the amount he was flexing his pinchers, you’d think he was the one the clients had offered to give a tour of their skyscraper cactus city.

As the bay door started to open, Zhee asked me, “Did you check if that belt has a full charge?”

“Yes I did,” I told him, pushing the button on my gravity belt to display a full line of power lights. “And Mimi even looked it over for loose wires or whatever. I’m all set.”

“Good,” Zhee said, angling his torso so that his front half was higher — the Mesmer equivalent of standing up straight. I was continually amused by how much praying mantises resembled centaurs, and how much this particular alien species resembled Earth bugs. This wasn’t the time to bring it up, though.

The door was open all the way now, and there was Captain Sunlight, come to lead the way out. I could see a cluster of many-limbed locals waiting outside in the bright sun. The landing surface looked like it was made of red rocks mined nearby. Hopefully they were stable on top of this cactus-tree. The captain waved us forward: Zhee with the crates on a hoversled and me singing my best approximation of the local greeting song.

I’d practiced it on the way here. It was high-pitched but slow, like a songbird in slow motion. Or, more accurately, like a songbird trying to sing like a whale. This particular culture interacted regularly with their ground-bound evolutionary cousins, who wouldn’t have made it past the first climbing spike on these cactus towers.

The Tree-grabber in front stepped forward, chirping a reply song, then switching to the more recognizable trade language. “Greetings! We are delighted to smell you.” He waved his mousy ears happily, all four arms folded in front of him.

“And we you,” replied Captain Sunlight, whose people actually said that kind of greeting themselves. Her yellow scales were extra bright in this sun. “Would you like to inspect the merchandise?”

They would. Zhee did his part by prying open the crates with his mighty mantis arms — I don’t know why the supplier of these fruits insisted on packaging them this way, but it was good we had him along — and the Tree-grabbers all made a big deal of sniffing the fruits. The antigrav belts in the other crate got sniffed too, though thankfully they didn’t stink.

I could smell the fruits from where I was standing; that sour smell made my eyes water even at a distance. But no one was paying attention to me, busy as they were with signing for the delivery on the tablet that Captain Sunlight held out. Zhee put the lids back on. I wiped my eyes and admired the view. It was a nice scenic desert scrubland out there, with only the other cactus-trees in the way. I could see the entire sprawling city where the Ground-grabbers lived, and just barely make out the buildings on the distant Air-grabber mesa.

“Are you still interested in a tour?” someone asked.

I turned back and smiled without baring teeth. “Yes please!”

The lead Tree-grabber was returning the tablet to Captain Sunlight while the others moved the crates onto their own low-tech wheeled cart. Behind them, a hatch slid open in the red stones of the landing pad. Zhee towed the hoversled back toward our ship as soon as it was empty.

Captain Sunlight looked up at me. “Travel with care,” she said, which was a polite way of urging me not to trip and fall off the cactus.

“I will,” I told her. “And I have my phone if anything comes up.” That covered a lot of ground. We’d already discussed keeping an eye out for possible delivery needs: offworld items that I might tactfully suggest to the locals. They wouldn’t have thought to ask about the antigrav belts if the subject hadn’t come up in conversation the last time we were here.

“Then kindly follow me to the handpath,” said the many-limbed monkey-mouse. Dang, what was his name? I thought. He had a name. It translated as just a sound. Chirp, right, that’s what it was. I knew that. Totally professional over here. I kindly followed Chirp in the direction of the handpath.

Which was over the edge, because of course it was. Metal handrails like the kind I usually saw at swimming pools waited next to the steps. Chirp led the way.

I set the gravity belt to “catch me if I suddenly plunge downward,” and followed.

I like climbing, right? Big fan. I was all over the playground as a kid, and I never really stopped. It’s particularly fun when I get to be “the one who can reach things high up,” or otherwise be appreciated for climbing a tree or a spaceship or what have you. Occasionally I’ll meet someone else who enjoys being above the ground. Most species seem to prefer being on a safe, level surface.

Not these guys. Wow. I was glad that Captain Sunlight had insisted on the gravity belt, because this was intense. The entire city street system were basically ladders on the outside of skyscrapers.

“This handpath is designed with elders and the occasional visitor in mind,” Chirp called up to me. “Artificial steps and platforms placed regularly.” When I looked down, I saw that he was indeed standing on a platform already, which even had a railing around it. There were more ladders on either side, and other platforms that could be reached with the help of metal handholds.

“That’s very considerate,” I said. Other cactus-trees were close enough that I could watch the agile citizens scurry along the surfaces, using only the natural cactus spikes and small branches. Wild. “Do you have any handpaths inside?” I managed to make it sound casual as I stepped down onto the platform with a perfectly normal heart rate. There was a door here that I hadn’t seen from above.

“There are some,” he said. “Mostly for emergencies.”

I had to laugh. “That’s the opposite of where I’m from.”

“Really?” He perked up in curiosity. “How so?”

“We have tall buildings like this that we made,” I said with a wave toward the towering plants. “Nothing on Earth grows this big, but we can build it. And we do all our travel between levels inside, except for emergency escape ladders on the outside.”

“Fascinating!” Chirp said. “I suppose if you make the whole things yourselves, you can make sure the inside is strong enough to support as many rooms as you need.”

“Yeah, definitely,” I agreed, laying a palm against the smooth cactus wall. “These are pretty soft at the core, huh?”

“Oh yes, that’s why the rooms are kept strictly to the outer layer,” Chirp said. “Come in; let me show you.”

He opened the door and I got ready to duck, since it was just under human height, then a rapid succession of shadows passed over us.

Chirp made an irritated click. “Air-grabbers, come to get in the way again!”

I looked, curious to see what they actually looked like. Both the Tree-grabbers and the Ground-grabbers had complained about them last time.

They looked a lot like I expected: bats with skinny arms held close while they flew. Everybody seemed to have six limbs on this planet.

And varying opinions about personal space. The Air-grabbers fluttered around the cactus towers, inspecting anything that caught their interest. They circled people carrying groceries. They poked their heads into open doors, only to get shooed back out. They arrowed in on the spaceship parked above. And they flew past me repeatedly, almost enough of them to run into each other. High-pitched voices floated on the breeze, but none of them addressed us directly.

“Inside,” Chirp said, opening the door. I followed him in. He shut it firmly, leaving the squeaking cloud of bats outside.

The ceiling was a bit low here, but at least this was a proper civilized room, not something carved directly from the wet cactus innards. Multiple desks, counters, and couches made it look like an info center, or some other kind of “just arrived from above” hub. I wondered if there was a lot of travel between cactus cities here. Several locals waited in line.

Then someone else rushed in after us, complaining in her own chittering language, and she pulled up short when she saw the tall alien bent over by the door.

“Hello,” I said.

“My greetings,” she said, edging sideways. “Pardon.” With a quick arm gesture that was probably polite — one to her chest and three outward — she hurried off to stand in line. Everyone else was staring.

I’ve been stared at plenty in my time, so this was only a little awkward. I waved. Small windows that I hadn’t noticed in the walls flickered with passing shadows.

Chirp said, “I apologize for the Air-grabbers. They hardly make a visit pleasant.”

“Is there any way to ask them nicely to leave?” I asked. “I assume you’re tried discussing it with their leaders?”

“Many times.” Chirp looked tired. “They don’t care. As far as they’re concerned, the air is their territory, and it’s our poor luck that we have to breathe it.”

“How rude,” I murmured, not wanting to cast judgement on an alien culture. But my present audience more than agreed.

“Yes, they are very rude,” Chirp said, working up to a proper rant. “Shouting at them does no good, since they just find it funny. Bad weather will make them leave, but that’s a problem for us too, and hardly something we can conjure up on a whim. Though they did seem to dislike the sound of the wind through the observatory when half the windows were left open; that we could probably do on purpose. Not very helpful here, though.”

“What kind of sound was it?” I asked, half an idea forming.

“A very high shriek,” he told me. “Almost too high to hear. The wind did some strange things with those windows.”

“I wonder if you could ward them off with noise,” I said.

“Maybe,” he said, not sounding terribly optimistic. “Like I said, yelling doesn’t help, and that’s loud too.”

Somebody else scrambled through the door, complaining. This guy didn’t even see me, just slamming the door and hurrying forward like he was ready to have words with whoever was in charge here. Maybe he was. More shadows passed over the windows.

“Can I try something?” I asked. “A quick loud noise? I’ll do it outside.”

He looked curious at that. “Go ahead. Just make sure not to startle anyone on the handpaths nearby.”

“Of course,” I said. Then I turned my back on the staring eyes, opened the door, and stepped out to where I could stand up to my full height.

No Tree-grabbers nearby. Perfect. I put two fingers in my mouth and let loose with the most ear-piercing whistle I could muster.

Startled bats changed course in midair, flapping and diving to get away, a cloud of chattering alarm and confusion. Judging by the shadows, some of the ones from above had lifted off as well.

I watched for a moment to see that they kept their distance, then I ducked back inside.

“That seemed to work,” I told Chirp.

Chirp was rubbing his ear. “I’m not surprised. Very loud. How well did it work?”

I waved him outside to take a look for himself. He perked up when he saw how far the Air-grabbers had moved back. “That’s the best result I’ve seen yet! I’m sure some of it might be from the surprise of it all, but even so.”

“You said the wind shriek was almost too high to hear,” I said. “Do you think the Air-grabbers can hear sounds that you can’t quite pick up?” Their ears were bigger, but what did I know?

“Now that,” Chirp said decisively, “Is an idea worth pursuing.”

“So there’s this animal on my planet called a dog,” I said. “And a certain kind of whistle that only they can hear…”

By the time my tour was over, I had a representative of the city very interested in having us deliver some offworld noise-makers that might help them keep the peace.

(The rest of the tour was nice; they had some impressive architecture inside those cactuses, and everyone greeted me politely. I didn’t fall off the side once.)

When I climbed back up the ladder to the landing pad, taking care not to focus on the long drop behind me, I was surprised to find a handful of Air-grabbers perched there in conversation with the captain.

Chirp made a disapproving grunt, but said nothing as we walked over.

“Ah, welcome back!” Captain Sunlight said to me. “It looks like our next visit will involve a delivery of fruit to the other above-ground city in these parts.”

The Air-grabber in front smiled with sharp teeth. “Ours is the best.”

“As you say,” Captain Sunlight agreed politely.

“We will need the items delivered directly to an entrance,” said the Air-grabber. “Not to the high ground. Is that something you can do?”

Chirp muttered something that sounded like “Knew it.”

“I’m sure we can manage that,” Captain Sunlight said. “Our ship has some very stable thrusters, and talented pilots. And, failing that—” She looked at me. “Someone experienced with antigrav belts and high places.”

I chuckled and turned off the safety. “That you do.”

~~~

There's an exciting mini-project coming out next week! Details here!

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#a few people wanted to see what would happen when the crew came back here #maybe learn more about the aliens #whyever not #they're interesting #ALSO check out that link about the mini-project #I'll post more about that soon #very excited #my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #writeblr

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fryingpan1234567 · 2 months ago

Text

Percy can’t find his glasses lmao

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Oliver couldn’t help the laugh that made its way from his chest at the sight of Percy Weasley tearing through their shared dorm, tossing stuff around as if he’d forgotten his ‘no clothes on the floor’ rule that had been in place since their second year.

“Fuck, it’s not funny, Oliver!” Percy complained.

Oliver dropped his quidditch playbook into his lap, temporarily forgotten. He grinned teasingly. “The perfect Percy Weasley swearing? Never thought I’d see the day.”

That wasn’t true. He knew the stress and many siblings would get Percy to snap eventually, and he knew adding onto that with the ‘Perfect Percy’ bit didn’t help at all. The not-so affectionate nickname from his younger brothers, namely the twins, was enough to get him twitchy in itself.

Percy chucked a pillow at Oliver with surprising strength. As the keeper, he did catch it to his chest, but he was still bewildered at the force behind it.

“I can’t find them,” Percy fretted as he returned to his wild search, neglecting to mention what exactly he was referring to. “I’m gonna be late to transfig and—“

“Okay, slow down.” Oliver set the pillow down next to him and shifted forwards, taking a glance around the room. “What are we looking for?”

Percy huffed, taking a pause. He glared at the nearest pile of clothes he’d just made as if it had conjured into existence on its own.

“I can’t find my glasses.”

Oh. The glasses that were on top of his head, innocently nestled in the ginger curls there, no clue about the turmoil they were causing?

Oliver pursed his lips, fighting down his laughter. He forced himself not to look at them, instead turning his attention to the newly cluttered floor.

“Right,” he said slowly. A plan came into his head. “Want help looking?”

“No,” Percy snapped immediately, then continued digging through a laundry basket.

“What? Why not?” Oliver said innocently, nudging at him with a socked foot. Percy batted it away without even sparing him a glance.

“Because,” he grumbled, “you’re all smug about it. And if you end up being the one to find them, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Well, that much was true. But that ship had sailed as soon as Oliver figured out exactly what he was looking for. So really, what’s the harm in a little more teasing?

“I wouldn’t make fun of you if one of your brothers had hidden them,” Oliver reasoned, standing from his bed and making his way over to where Percy was crouched over his book bag for the third time. “That’s not your fault. Or like, sometimes when you don’t sleep for a few days you get tired and misplace them—“

Percy stood abruptly, putting him nearly nose to nose with Oliver. His ears turned bright red, but he didn’t immediately make any move to back away. Oliver smiled sweetly.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“Oh, fuck off.” That was the thing to get Percy to resume his frantic search, rolling his eyes and pushing at Oliver’s chest, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

Oliver caught his waist, pulling him back in. Percy glared at him indignantly, lightly slapping his shoulder in an attempt to get him to let go.

“Oliver—“

“I found ‘em,” Oliver said simply, a sly smile spreading across his face. Realization dawned on Percy’s as Oliver reached up to take them off the crown of his head.

He dropped his face into Oliver shoulder in embarrassment. “Fuck me, of course that’s where they were.”

Oliver laughed, ruffling his hair. “Right now? I thought you were gonna be late to class—“

“Shut up,” Percy grumbled as he straightened up (lmao). He took the glasses from Oliver’s hand and fixed them to their designated place, face still slightly flushed. He made to leave, but Oliver stopped him with his arms around his waist again.

“You’re forgetting something,” he hummed, grinning with unbridled joy. There really was no way he’d let this go, and there was no reason to cut him some slack now.

Percy glared at him again. “I don’t think I am, actually.”

“No ‘thank you’?” Oliver pouted. “No ‘thanks, amazing heroic boyfriend, I’d be going to class blind if it weren’t for your ingenuity—‘“

“Please shut up,” Percy begged, and then kissed him. His hands found either side of Oliver’s face, and Oliver melted into him, pushing up onto his toes to get a better angle. His lips slotted perfectly against Percy’s, and he figured he’d never get tired of kissing him. It left him breathless every fucking time.

“Thank you,” Percy finally murmured into Oliver’s mouth. He didn’t open his eyes and he didn’t at all try to back away.

Oliver grinned again. “Sure, but you were right earlier.” Percy broke away to look at him in confusion. Oliver poked him in the side. “I’m never letting you forget this.”

“OLIVER WOOD—“

“Kill me later. McGonagall’s gonna kill you if you’re late again.”

Percy flipped him off over his shoulder as he left, slamming the door behind him. Oliver huffed a laugh and went back to his playbook.

#no this isn’t proofread or edited what do you take me for #wizarding world #percy weasley #oliver wood #perciver

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desceros · 8 months ago

Note

the virgin "goes to bed on time; wakes up early to fish; calmly sells catch; repeat" vs the chad "brake drifting into the pier with ten aberrations, one of which is rotting from the mystery ick that appeared at some point, three holes in my ship and slurring my speech from where i haven't slept in three weeks and i can hear the waves scratching on my ship asking for directions to the end of the world"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DESCEROS POSTED A NEW WORK

TURTLE FANS ASSEMBLE 🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢RAAAAHHHHHHH

The eldritch horror scratches so many itches for meeeee, thank you so much for sharing this with ussss 😭🙏

Poor baby Lavi ueususueueueue ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡

-(murdered) Trenchcoat

I DID!! just a small little thing i've had stuck in my head from where gb and i were talking about it last night. they came up with the imagery of donnie kissing your ankle and i was like. oh. explodes over that actually

sidebar, it's such a good game. i highly recommend it to everyone! if you don't love scary stuff you can still play it, you just have to make sure to sleep often. or, if you're like me an LOVE scary stuff, you make your fisherman go WEEKS without sleeping because it's fine and also the floating eyes in the mist are cool-looking and friends, i've decided

anywho i'm so glad you enjoyed it, tc!!! it was super fun to write :D

#hearing gb go WHAT WAS THAT every time something happened and i'd just be like 'oh yeah that's the ghost ship that will ram you sometimes'#or 'yeah those red tornadoes just chase you forever. hey did you see the giant sea leviathan yet? no? oh well here's how to do that!'#s tier gaming experience #'yeah my dude's eye is just always red and twitchy like that' 'WHAT.'

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izzabela · 5 months ago

Note

Hello there! Can you write about the reader writing a note to ask one of the Lin Kuei brothers (your choice) on a date but it goes to the wrong brother (your choice) by accident and accept the offer, but during the date, the reader ends up having a good time with the brother of your choice? 😁😁

Switcharoo - Tomas x male!reader

in which you get two brothers confused

a/n: haven't done a male reader in a while. sigh, middle-aged man yaoi...

ship[s]: tomas vrbada x male!reader

warning(s): fluff, anti-brother split kanon (aka, my own world)

As a strategist, your mind was constantly filled with ways to overcome the enemy.

Ambush attacks, traps, long or short term plans, all cards were available in order to win.

So the fact you had a cork-board in your room, with pictures of people and items pinned and connected with red thread, you knew you were in deep shit when you realized you had to strategize over and against your heart.

To make it even worse, you were strategizing your love for your clan partner, Bi Han. Grandmaster and leader to the Lin Kuei, a family with history spanning back to the ancient times of classical China.

You learned many things about leading, and though your family hasn't been around that long, the advice he gave was sound and firm. You appreciated his guidance, his ability to nurture you and still be reasonably firm. Tough love is probably the easiest way to go about describing him and his leadership.

That's the reason why you love him so much. He could be so strong for you and in front of others. He knew what he believed in, standing firm in them, and he had the strength to back it up. You wanted more than just the long nights in his office together drawing up strategies. More than training buddies.

You wanted to know why he was so devoted. You wanted to know him past the business hours of 8 am and 8 pm (midnight, if you guys are burning midnight oil to create plans). You wanted that special privilege of knowing him better than anyone else.

His brothers knew those questions, and hanging out with them was still just as special.

Kuai Liang is your older brother/reliable neighbor persona. He's confident, yet kind enough to humble himself when teaching the initiates. He praises you when necessary, and also guides you when you struggle in something. And the fruits, the amount of fruits he's given you and his brother when you two stayed up really late was insane.

Tomas follows suit in Kuai Liang's steps, though he's more of the younger brother you wished you had. Well-behaved, playful when time permits, and an optimistic young man, he was a jack of all trades. He got along with you the best, and you both complimented each other well in terms of battle and personality.

Back to the drawing board (literally), you look at the impressive plan you conjured up in asking Bi Han out: write a note asking to meet with him, take him out to Earth and to this amazing restaurant, go to the lantern release night that the local lake was hosting, and end the night watching the stars.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy- right?

Wrong. So dead wrong.

It all went wrong the next morning, when you didn't double check whether you wrote his name on it. Not only that, but the fucking paper disappeared from your desk.

Not only that, but all three brothers have been staring at you nonstop. You tried to ignore it, but even Bi Han stared at you- and that's what made you twitchy and shifty around everyone. Still, you pushed through the day as if it was normal.

As night fell upon the Lin Kuei compound, you waited patiently in front of your room's door for Bi Han to come to you. To offer his arm and hold it as you two walked together to Earth and go on your date.

"Ah... (y/n)?" a light voice calls your name.

That for sure isn't Bi Han.

Your head snaps up like a cow interrupted from his grassy meal, and your eyes meet a, oddly attractively dressed, Tomas.

He's in simple black linen pants, a grey tee, and some slip-on sneakers. His hair is a bit unkept, but it fits the style of "woke up like this", and he pulls it off effortlessly.

By the elder gods, had he always been this handsome?

"T-Tomas? What are you doing here?" you ask, head looking around for Bi Han.

He's looking at you with a puzzled face, "You asked me here? The note you gave me... was that not addressed to me?"

You both have a comic book moment: look at each other, look at the note in his hands, and back at each other. Oh elder gods, you fucked up.

You crumple in yourself, back hitting your door as you slid down and hid your head in your arms. Tomas is nervous, frantic as he kneels to your level, unsure of what to do. You sigh deeply, heavily- any synonym that describes the dread that plagued your soul.

"It was... it was for your brother," you answer truthfully. "I had begun liking him over my stay here, and well.... I wanted to ask him out."

Tomas smiles, tapping your shoulder as he holds a hand out for you to grab. You look up from your safe haven of barred arms, and you notice how oddly happy he is.

"I know that I was not your choice originally," he begins, "But you must've spent a long time figuring this all out. Knowing you, you must've planned a map out in your room connecting even your choice of words!"

You blink first, before bursting out in a laugh. Taking his hand, you're lifted from the ground. You're not going to pester him now, but later you will ask if he peeped in your room.

Tomas flips open the paper note again, "So, the first stop was a restaurant? What's served there?"

"Wait," you stop him. "You're actually going?" You re-clarify with him again, and he nods.

"As said, you spent a long time with this, no doubt. Why not use it instead of sitting around? Maybe it'll be good practice for the real thing."

You nod, staring at him for a couple more seconds before moving to his side to walk together. From your room, down to the courtyard and entrance, you enter a portal and are transported to the front of an barbecue spot native to your town.

"What is this?" he asks.

"Korean barbecue! My family had been talking so much about it, and Johnny took me and I fell in love. All of you like to eat, and I figured this might have been a good spot for Bi Han..."

Tomas chuckles, "Brother is a stickler to his diet. Often times, he does not fall into cheat days or any corner-cutting. Kuai Liang or I would be the ones who enjoy the big meals."

You nod, "Mental note."

Entering in, you two were immediately guided to your table, and you picked out meats that suited both of you. Tomas chose the lean beef and some of the fatty pork, though you were a wild card of foods.

As the meat you ordered was coming out, you two drowned out the noise of your grumbling stomachs with casual conversation. Tomas played finger games, like sticks, as he talked about his week. Initiates, missions, personal training, paperwork- the whole shebang on running a clan.

Instead of making it sound like a record player, he retold his stories like a novel. Filled with little anecdotes of the world around him, little mentions of his friends and brothers, and personal insights on his view of his family, it was more than enjoyable to listen to him ramble on.

He was a song you'd hit replay over and over again.

Even through dinner, as he took over grilling the meat and veggies, he listened to you as you talked about your day. How you spent the entire last few weeks to conjure up a plan for Liu Kang. How you felt crushed about the responsibility of leading your people- the ups and downs of your life was like a poem to him.

One he could reread over and over, without getting bored.

Gosh, the date too. He fed you with his chopsticks, slathered your meat with side dishes, even got up to get you both bowls of rice because you didn't want to get up. His love-language is definitely acts of service.

Once dinner was finished, you had lied to him in saying you're going to the bathroom. In reality, you were going to get the bill before he'd notice.

"What?" you asked the waiter. "What do you mean it's been footed?"

The young lady just nods, "Your date, I presume, paid earlier."

You look back to Tomas, who sat in his seat patiently and quietly. When he saw you, his eyes lit up as he waved. You wave back weakly, and he stands up to meet you as you're about to head out.

"When did you have time to foot the bill?" you ask him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"A sorcerer never reveals his secrets," he held a finger to his lips, winking.

You slapped yourself, probably out of fear, probably out of horniness. Whatever it was, you wanted to move on to the final portion to the date.

The lake the lantern night was being hosted on was nearby, just a couple of blocks away. It's also good to get the gas released.

As you both walked, the conversations never died down. From running after one another, piggyback rides, and casual hand-holding, this night felt way better than any other date you had been on.

As you two neared the lake, you immediately light up (haha so punny) at how many lanterns have been lit and written on. Flashes of colored pen on the fabric, the chatter of the various couples and families, it filled your heart with joy.

"There is a festival like this back at home," Tomas notes as you two walk closer to a volunteer. He grabs the lantern and cheap marker, and you egg him to go on.

"It usually happens in February and March. Lunar New Year, our special tradition of sending lanterns up in the air near midnight." You smile softly, the thought of Tomas in the Lin Kuei's traditional attire warming your face.

You turn away quickly, taking the fabric from his hands as you write your wish. He sets up the metal frames that are to hold it up.

"What'cha writing there?" he asks, peeking over your shoulder as he's halfway done with the lantern frame. You hid the fabric in your chest, head close to his, and his lips dangerously close to yours.

You pull away, but the glimmer of the metal catches your eye. He's finished with the frame, and now he sits waiting for you to be finished with the fabric and your wish.

"Take it, it's your turn to write anyways," you shove it into his (deliciously plush) chest.

Like a child, he turns his back to you as he scribbles away on the fabric. You try to peak over like he did, but he's so much bigger than you, and an inch of movement is enough to cover everything in front of him.

Worse, he already slipped it over the lantern.

"Hey! You saw my wish!" you yell, trying to pounce and grab the lantern. He holds it up and away, your arms flailing uselessly as you jump and grab nothing but air.

"Are you two ready?" another volunteer asks, a lighter in her hands. Tomas quickly rushes over, setting the lantern in front of her to get it lit up. At this point, you were getting pissed.

You can't let him know that you wished for Tomas to like you.

Yeah, yeah, how the mighty have fallen. Something something, switch-up- all the names in the book for your flip-flopping feelings. Is it your fault though? With Tomas here, it's actually been good because you finally reevaluated your feelings about Bi Han.

You never liked Bi Han, you liked the idea of what he could be. You liked Bi Han with the idea of someone else's personality- and that person was Tomas.

Tomas swiftly, yet gently, lifts the lantern up into the air, and you pout and whine over the fact the words Tomas wrote for his wish grow tinier and tinier. You sigh, laying on your back to the grass as you catch your breath.

"Sneaky bastard, what did you even write?" you ask between exhausted breaths.

He just repeats the same message he gave you earlier.

"A sorcerer never reveals his secrets," a playful smile accompanied with a wink.

You stare back at the lantern that now joins with its brethren in the sky, a collage of light yellow hues against the dark evening. The words of the people around, wishes and hopes, collided to create the manifestations of the humans around you.

As you watch the sky, Tomas watches you lovingly, the thoughts of his writing overtaking his mind.

I wish for a shot, not a practice run. With him and only him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay definitely not a burn out anymore, i fear i'm cooking with requests again

though, requests are gonna remain closed because i am setting up new things i'm writing for

aight see yall in the next fic!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #x reader #bi han #kuai liang #scorpion #sub zero #mk1 bi han #mk1 kuai liang #kuai liang x you #kuai liang x reader #mk1 kuai liang x you #mk1 kuai liang x reader

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mothiir · 5 months ago

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list of astartes ocs

here’s a brief little summary of my ocs, because i often lose track of them and thought that you might like to know more about the boys. NSFW stuff included, so stuck it beneath a cut. this is just the space marines — taleath will get his own post because he’s my favourite (don’t tell the others). Happy to answer asks/write stuff about them

Vanatas Borjigin

The self appointed leader of the trio. Turned into Astartes later than generally recommended, so has a decent memory of his life before; of raising a batch of squalling sisters, of scavenging for meat in Nostramo’s rancid streets. It gives him major older sibling energy, even now.

Taller than Shrike, shorter than Zakyr, with bone-white skin and void-black eyes. Wears his long dark hair in a ponytail more often than not; a severe hairstyle that accentuates his raptor-sharp cheekbones. He has the usual scars you’d expect an Astartes to carry, but due to the implants being carried out well into his teens (rather than in prepubescence) the surgery scars are far more prominent than normal, standing out liver-purple across his abdomen.

Prone to fainting fits, in which he collapses, jaw tight against the screams welling in his throat, his skull singing agony. Blood drips from his nose and his eyes, and when he wakes he babbles nonsense — and yet the nonsense always seems to come true. That’s right: our boy Van is cursed with the gift of prophecy — something he is at pains to hide from the rest of his brothers. Zak and Shrike know, but they keep his secret. Normally, Vanatas can tell when one of the attacks is coming, and it gives him just enough warning to hide, or for one of the other two to shove him into a cupboard to stop someone seeing.

He is mean mean mean to you. He really likes it when you cry, whether you’re begging for mercy or for him to slow down or please Mr Night Lord not back there — and he always gets a bit feral when you start getting weepy. He’s the most likely to treat you like a serf-shaped fleshlight, grabbing you with very little warning, yanking your skirt to the side and sinking in with a low, contented groan.

Despite the above, he’s normally the one ensuring you’re functioning as well as possible. He remembers to feed you, shouts at the others when they’ve let you go too long without sleep, and even gave you painkillers one time, after Zak had been a mite too rough. Maybe there’s a shadow inside him, a whisper that remembers what it is to care. And maybe not. Who knows.

Zakyr Lamnidae

Large, even for an Astartes. Almost eight feet tall, all bulky muscle, and — as you might imagine — almost constantly hungry. The other two taunt him for being a lardass, but he always ends up with the best bits of any meal they’ve stolen (or hunted). They never say that they are doing this, nor does he acknowledge it or thank them. It is just how it is. You hide Van when he starts bleeding from the eyes; you give Zak the fat-marbled rump of an unfortunate heretic. Yum.

Has the same black hair, black eyes combo as Vanatas and ninety per cent of other Night Lords. He wears his hair short, shaved at the sides, and has a distinctive scar on his cheek that crawls across his jawline, and down onto his throat. It looks almost like it was caused by the talon of a great bird — or maybe a set of claws, swift as lightning? Either way, he’s not saying how he got it. If you ask, he and Vanatas start getting a bit twitchy. Some secrets are best kept quiet.

He was in the dungeons for stealing a loaf of bread. He was six years old and starving. That’s how he ended up getting shipped out to be a neophyte — this isn’t a story he tells much. He just sees it as a great amusing irony. Imprisoned for the most base of offences, and now free to commit far worse ones. That is justice, isn’t it?

Is the most intelligent of the three, if we class intelligence as ‘book smarts’. Speaks fluent Gothic, as well as a handful of other languages, and can threaten to flay someone in upwards of twenty three tongues, including some xenos ones. Is a truly excellent artist, and absolutely would not have given the poor serf that abomination of a tattoo. Back when they were neophytes, and thus not even allowed to smell women, he did very well for himself by drawing — uh — ‘special pictures’ for other Astartes. He likes drawing the serf, and has a sketchbook full of paintings that run the gambit from surprisingly beautiful to absolutely obscene. No one is allowed to touch that sketchbook — not since Van borrowed it and returned it with the pages sticking together.

The others are doing their best to learn Gothic, and to teach you Nostramon. Unfortunately, it’s a slow process, so Zak often finds himself conscripted in for translation. The deal is simple: he will translate, but he gets to join in.

As for the NSFW stuff — he can be very lazy in bed. He likes being ridden, because he does enough physical work in his day job and damn it he just wants to lie back and watch a pretty girl cry as she tries to get his dick inside. Is that too much to ask? He knows, theoretically, what a clitoris is, but good luck getting him to touch it. He likes degradation, but in his sadistic hedonist way he likes to get you to degrade yourself. He’ll whisper in your ear what a horrible little slut you are, spreading yourself for the legion, and get you to repeat it back for him. It’s also how he’s teaching you Nostramon. You have a very niche, very detailed vocabulary.

He will threaten to get you pregnant at least once a week. If you hadn’t seen Vanatas and him get in a literal fight over it, you would believe the threat - he sounds so sincere. He will be buried balls-deep in your warm innards, cooing about what a shame it would be if he came inside, how awful it would be for you. It’s a game: you’re meant to beg him not to, to offer to suck his cock, or offer up your arse. And you probably should play it. If you don’t, he starts getting a bit huffy, and no one wants that.

Shrike Melloria

The man is an Emperor-forsaken pervert.

Right, you probably want more detail than that. Shrike is the youngest of the group, and was born in jail. His mother was a whore; his father some unknown vagabond. When the ships came for new recruits, they grabbed up the infant because, well, what else were they to do with him?

The words ‘boyishly handsome’ aren’t usually used to describe a Night Lord — but Shrike manages to justify their use. Yes, he’s a seven-foot killing machine — but he also has golden hair, and eyes that are more very dark blue than black. He is pale, like all his brothers, but in a way that suggests he would tan under sunlight, rather than incinerate. Give him a paint job and a week on a farm, and he could pass for an Ultramarine (as long as he didn’t open his mouth, or come into contact with any civilians)

In battle, he is a stone-cold sniper; a prodigy. There’s very little that can escape his reach. As a consequence, he’s less scarred than your average Astartes, since the enemy doesn’t normally have a chance to reach him. In another, more foolish, Legion this might be seen as a mark of cowardice — but Night Lords are pragmatic, and Shrike’s strategy gets the enemy just as dead.

Right, now the good stuff: he is a toxic mess of a man, clingy and snuggly and nuzzly, even while doing the worst possible things to you. He’ll fuck you full, almost render you speechless from fucking your throat, and then coo about how pretty you are while scooping his cum from between your legs and jamming it into your mouth. His brand of dirty talk is cloyingly sweet, while also being absolutely horrifying: “Sweet little fledgling, open wide for me! There we are, now that’s all you’re getting —“

Vanatas has explained to him multiple times that serf cannot survive on jizz alone, and yet he still considers trying it.

Breeding kink like whoa. Doesn’t actually want a baby, but loves the idea of making you so completely his. Would be the worst father imaginable. Is being slipped birth control by both of his brothers just in case he gets any ideas.

Yes, he did the tattoo. No, he did not ask permission. Yes, he considers you his wife. No, the others do not agree. No, divorce is not an option. Yes, of course Vanatas and Zak have elaborate ‘let’s cuck Shrike’ role play.

So, these guys aren’t nearly as fully formed as the Night Lord Idiot Trio, but throwing them in here to remind myself to write something later. Here are my Black Templars:

Ezra Rothenburg

Captain of his squad, a venerable dilf veteran of countless campaigns. Tall, broad, grey-haired, with a bouquet of scars, including one that stretches across his lips, giving him a permanent sneer.

Blessed by the Emperor and most devout in obeying His Commands. Those that know him note that the Emperor’s Commands tend to coincide with what Ezra was planning to do anyway.

Can and will fake visions to get the more fanatical of his brethren to fall in line. The way he sees it, the Emperor would have struck him down if He disapproved. He has not, so He must be on Ezra’s side

Isaiah Bodenstein von Karlstadt

Primaris Marine. Big boy. Very sweet and earnest and utterly devoted to the Emperor and his captain, in that order

Himbo energy hides a mind like a whetted knife

#my writing #Moth ocs #night lords/reader #dumb nightlord babies

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live-tweeting-hotg · 1 year ago

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You Don't Think, Do You [Daemon x Reader]

summary: the princess of Dorne struggles to see eye to eye with the Rogue Prince.

warnings & content: heavy smut 18+ (minors dni), porn with little plot, non/dubcon, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, mean!dom!daemon, rough sex, fingering (fem receiving), p in v, creampie, titty slapping, he puts a sword to her neck, power imbalance, size kink, light breeding kink, degradation, dumbification, mentions of arranged marriage, rhaenyra? who's that (this is so nasty I'm not sure why I wrote this)

words: 2.5k

You let the heavy door shut swing behind you, feeling your annoyance threatening to bubble over. The crown princess of Dorne, regal, powerful, tremendously able… shipped off to this miserable rock to sign a perfunctory piece of paper. You wanted to scream, thought better of it, and let out a tight breath of air somewhere between a hiss and a sigh.

It was almost like you were being punished for something, yet the entirely civil pretence of it meant you didn’t quite dare ask.

You stand in the room rigidly, exhausted, yet restless with a twitchy sort of tension. To your side, on the large sprawling table, you spot a set of ornate wine cups, fighting off the urge to smash one onto the ground. You were a guest, you reminded yourself, and the renewal of the treaty was necessary nonetheless. A pointless feat, but the prince seemed satisfied enough with the content, despite his bored demeanour at the meeting.

The thought of him almost set you off again. He had spent the entire evening listening to you present the treaty with a raised brow, insisting that you explain every line to him in detail even though there wasn’t a single difference between this and the one preceding it. He smirked when you talked, scoffed when you paused, and spent the remaining time staring at the low cut of your dress.

If this was in Dorne, you think you may have had his eyes cut out.

The knock at your door was a welcome distraction to your agitation. You blink, realising you had spent a good few minutes standing in the middle of the empty room like an idiot, turning to answer the door.

“Princess, I’ve just been made aware of the most interesting thing,” Daemon declares at you when you open the door, before you can even greet him. His frame almost obscures the entire doorway, the scabbard of his sword colliding loudly with the doorframe, leaving you with a strange sense of claustrophobia. He was disorientating, you decided.

“What,” you say back dumbly, after a brief pause, not entirely certain what else you could reply given the strange situation.

His frame slides forward without warning, and you move back instinctively as he lets himself into your— his— room. “I hear of unfavourable things in Sunspear,” he says, fixing you under his gaze. “I hear of treason, plots against the King…”

“Spies,” he finishes softly, face impassive, watching you intensely to gauge a reaction.

You are entirely lost.

“I am unaware—” You begin, before he cuts you off again.

“Are you a spy, princess?” The words are soft, almost chiding, and you think you spot the hint of a smirk at his lips.

You were so dizzy you almost felt nauseous. The context of this was absurd. He was in your room, alone and late, interrogating you whether you were spying— for who?! you wanted to scream. Your rising unease made it more and more difficult to be civil.

“Who would I be spying for?” you say, slowly, tone incredulous. “This is… most strange, and unfounded—” you find your voice rising steadily as your confusion gives way to indignation, and more annoyance.

He hums, crosses his arms casually, and you could swear you saw his eyes twinkling.

“—and insane!” you finish, throwing the word at him like a pointed rock. He cocks his head lazily and dodges it.

“You’re getting very worked up over something unfounded, princess,” he remarks, uncrossing his arms, voice suddenly quieter as he stalks towards you. You don’t move back, because you want to slap him when he comes close enough.

“If this is a jest, I fail to see the amusement,” you tell him sharply, the regal certainty seeping back into your stance, even as he towers over you.

Up close, you notice the fine lines of his sharp, angular face, the eyes set deep into them and the coldness behind his haughty demeanour. When he takes another step towards you, you step back, suddenly uncertain.

“I think I just need to check, princess,” he says softly, almost apologetic. “if you’re carrying… anything untoward. It’ll be a formality.”

your anger flares. “I will not be subject to your ridiculous whims.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken. “It’s a simple search, princess. Hardly ridiculous.”

“I don’t think—” your voice rises hotly, then falls flat as you’re interrupted by the sharp grate of his sword as he bares his blade, cocking his head almost thoughtfully, raising it to rest at the side of your neck. It is almost wider than your shoulder.

“No,” he coos, smirking down at you. “you don’t think, do you.” He tilts his blade so it digs into the soft skin under your jawline. “I need to search you, princess. And I won’t ask again.”

He is clearly fucking insane, you realise.

“…Alright,” you breathe out slowly, agreeably, the heat draining from your voice, and he hums appreciatively before sheathing his sword.

“Turn around, princess. Arms out.”

You stand rigidly as he moves behind you, feeling his large hands rest on your shoulders, practically breathing down your neck. A pool of dread settles in your stomach. You knew of his reputation, as did everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, but with you…?

He moves slowly, deliberately, down the length of your arms, his hand wide enough to almost circle it entirely. He returns to your waist, feeling the curve of your hips through your gown, tutting when you shift uncomfortably. “Behave,” he chides at you as he moves higher, practically palming your tits through your dress. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to deal out a harsh squeeze, huffing out a laugh as you flinch.

“I fear the princess is hiding too much,” he breathes into your ear, arm snaking around your waist as you stiffen uncomfortably, pressing you back against his firm chest. His free hand pushes down the neckline of your dress insistently. “I think she’ll need to bare some more loyalty to her prince.”

Your face flushes as you swallow thickly. “This is improper,” you say weakly.

He shoves you hard from behind as you squeak in surprise, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Strip,” he said simply, face cold. His sword swings at his side.

You swallow again, staring at him, but he meets your gaze cooly with his strange violet eyes, watching you as you slowly unlace your dress, letting it fall to your feet with a soft thump.

“The rest too,” he states softly, and you comply tensely, your face burning. You stare at the floor, completely bare before him as he crosses his arms again, drinking in your humiliation like a fine vintage.

“A fine sight,” he hums appreciatively at last. You grit your teeth, sensing some vague end to his game, before he sighs again. “Forgive me for being thorough, princess.”

Your eyes widen as you hear his smirk. “Bend over the table.”

“You can’t,” you blurt out without thinking, the colour draining from your cheeks. “Please, no—”

“You will bend over the table, or I will do it for you.” His voice is smooth and casual, as if he had been commenting on the weather. “And I promise it’ll hurt you a lot more.”

Your legs feel like lead. Your entire body feels like lead as you somehow walk yourself over, bending awkwardly over it. Like a slab of meat, you thought viciously. It is almost too high for you, and you’re left on your tiptoes, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles as your face burned. He comes up behind you, tutting. “You know what to do, princess. Legs apart.”

You feel your spine tingle viscerally as you comply, spreading yourself completely before him. The first strike catches you completely off guard as his hand comes down firmly on your bare cunt, forcing a choked scream out of you as your hips buck unconsciously from the contact. It burned your pride more than the stinging shock on your sex. Daemon only laughs as his hand finds the small of your back, shoving your hips back onto the edge of the table as you gasp in pain.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he mocks. “I think you need to be reminded how to behave, hm?” You yelp as he slaps you again, then another time for good measure, as you writhe and whimper under him, tears brimming your eyes. “All talk, aren’t you? Just won’t shut up in that hall, think you’re so fucking smart…” A slap landed directly on your bud, the pain making you scream out.

The way he treated you, the painful stimulation, and the fact that he had you naked bent over a desk whilst he was fully dressed…

He slid a finger along your folds, laughing quietly to himself. “My little princess liked that, hm? My, you’ve made quite the mess.” You feel it as he spreads your growing wetness down your thigh, hips twitching at the sensitivity. You are suddenly somewhat grateful that he has your face pressed into the desk.

“What?” he mocks again. “Nothing to say?”

You open your mouth, ready with a retort before he shoves two thick fingers into your wet heat, ripping a pained moan from you. You were certainly wet enough, but the stretch still stung, especially with his uncaring force.

“That’s more like it,” he snorted as he scissored his fingers, stretching you out, feeling inside you casually. “Nothing here, princess,” he hummed innocently as he curled his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot inside you, smirking as you tightened around him involuntarily, sobbing. “It’s a shame… I could have had you put in the dungeons for treason, hm? Then I’d take you on your knees, yeah? Maybe I still can… Just needs my cock in your throat to shut you up, my little whore…”

Your mind swims uncomfortably. His voice in your ear, the cold wood grating against your abused breasts, his fingers, filling you up in the way yours never could, the wet sounds of him fucking into you… His free hand comes down to rub furious circles around your pearl, and you sob out his name.

“Yeah, princess?” he groans into the soft shell of your ear. “You’re close, I feel you getting tighter. Come on then, fuck, my royal whore, come on my fingers…”

You come apart with a silent cry, arching your back into him, tears streaming down your face as he tears your peak from you. He fucks you through it lazily, his fingers pumping into you, slowing only when you whimper from the overstimulation. He wipes his hand on your thigh, not giving you a second to recover before he drags you back up by your hair.

“I apologise for not believing you, princess,” he breathes into your ear, as your eyelids flutter. Distantly, you register the sound of him undoing his breeches, lowering them just enough to take out his thick, weeping cock, giving it a few impatient jerks. “You’ve proven yourself to be… quite innocent, on this matter. But it’s improper for a host to let his guest leave him feeling so empty, isn’t it?”

You barely register his words, whimpering helplessly as he pulls your legs either side of him, your face coming to rest awkwardly on his chin. “You’re not even fucking listening, are you,” he huffs, rubbing soothing circles on your back, dipping his head closer to speak to you. “I was just telling how I’m going to fuck your dripping hole so fucking hard,” he groans, sheathing himself entirely into you with one rough thrust, “that you’ll feel it in your fucking throat.”

You scream out at the pain as he holds you, shushing you as you cling to him, clawing at his back. You feel him through the haze, deep and firm, too big inside you, splitting you open. When the initial sharpness of the pain fades, you’re left with a strange ache deep inside you, contracting desperately around him. Daemon tests shallow thrusts into you, grunting into your ear as he lowers you onto his cock, slapping your breasts to watch them bounce. “I knew you fucking liked it, slut,” he groans, squeezing experimentally at your throat. You whimper incoherently, feeling him thrust inside with more force.

“Too… big,” you complain hazily, through a hiccup of smaller moans that he forced out of your mouth. The angle was cruel. He had lifted you up, then thrusted up into you from below, trapping you between your weight downwards and his cock upwards. His arms trapped you in, holding you to his much larger chest as he nuzzled into the crook of shoulder, laughing.

“Yeah, too big for you?” he mocks. “Hurts, does it?” Daemon bites into your shoulder, groaning into you as you squeeze around him. “We’ll just have to fuck you open until you learn to take your husband’s cock, hm?”

You register his words dimly, unable to really do much about it as you stare up at him through dazed eyes, mouth hanging slightly open.

He reaches down, cupping your cheek as he continues breaking you apart. “Heard that, princess? Why do you think they sent you here instead of anyone else, hm?” He laughs again when he hears you sob. “You’re crying? Fuck, I love that.”

“I won’t…” you grit out, voice almost breaking.

“You will,” he insists sadistically, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek, licking at your tears. “see, they said you might not come willingly, but I suppose you won’t have a choice when I fuck a babe into you, yeah?”

you whimper as he fucks into you with renewed vigour, your walls clenching involuntarily at his words. “So you can listen,” he groans into you, hand tightening in your hair to yank your head back. “keep doing that, yeah, good girl…”

His free hand dips lower. With you impaled wide open on his cock, your bud is left vulnerably exposed, and he flicks at it mindlessly, drinking in your whines. “Gonna fuck my seed into you, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna fuck it so deep you’ll drip for days, my pretty little wife, such a good little wife for me…”

He slaps your tits once, twice, and then you’re spasming uncontrollably around his cock as your peak rips through you, feeling his warmth flood into you and drip down your thighs. You crumple into him, sobbing against his chest as he strokes your hair, shushing you. You feel his cock slip out of you as he picks you up gently, carrying you to the bed, stepping over your discarded clothes.

You’re laid down onto the cushions softly, half-conscious, and Daemon wraps his arms around you from behind. “You might as well learn to like it, princess,” he hums into your ear as you’re flipped over into the bed, his hands on you again. “I don’t think I’ll be finished with you for a long time.”

#hotg #house of the dragon #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader

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justsalpals · 1 year ago

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Lucius is feeling vindictive. It crawls under his skin like a burning rash, catches between his molars like a stubborn tuft of rodent fur. He's twitchy and raw, something burrowed down into his bones itching to lash out into open air and relieve some of that whistling pressure.

Izzy didn't really do anything. Not this time. Mostly he just sat there blankly, new prosthetic stretched out in front of him, staring at the wall like a ghost. Sometimes Fang would have an arm around his shoulders, or Frenchie leant like liquid into his side, or Jim playing with their knives nearby like some kind of sentry. Now he was alone, fiddling with the fastenings of his wooden leg. He hadn't done anything.

But a screaming match, an easy one, one where he could fully and confidently come out knowing he was in the right, sounded so damn appealing right now. Izzy was so easy to prod.

It was supposed to be easy.

"You know," Lucius bared his teeth like a wild thing, a condescending mocking laced in every word. Poised for a fight. (God, he needed a fight he could win.) "Once you told me I wouldn't last an hour on a real pirate ship."

Izzy was supposed to take the bait. He was supposed to be easy.

Lived out eyes barely flickered his way, adjusting his leg to properly take his weight. "And?" No screaming, no insults, just an exhausted understanding. "Did you?"

Lucius turned around and left.

#our flag means death #ofmd #sprizzy #lucius spriggs #izzy hands #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #my writing

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minaaaawaaaa · 8 months ago

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Reblog/comment with your favorite things in South Park *fanon media. Here's some of mine, pairing-related separated since some people don't really care for that, which is totally fine

Craig being partly Peruvian (derived from Pandemic I & II); either not Thomas's or Laura's biological son and half-siblings with Tricia. Also him just being tall asf; I think his dad is supposed to be taller than the average adult male character. Also Craig balding early in adulthood LOL

Plot twist villain Cartman in larger-scale-plot fics

Also, Cartman still earning God's wrath when he really, really deserves it

Kyle being the absolute fussiest little shit you've ever seen, at any age, for good reason usually. This is pretty canon, but still it's important to maintain

I think it's never directly put out there in canon besides Tweek's name being so terrible, but the Tweaks have definitely had Tweek and half the town on meth for years

Tweek being super artsy and those practices helping him relax; visual arts, music, sewing/crotchet, etc.

Clyde Donovan, the most sensitive crybaby football player of All Time

Quarterback Stan, regardless of high school/college/NFL level

It's so sad but longtime-alcoholic-since-10 Stan :( I still love him

Not sure when/where it became popular as it isn't too evident in canon, but the weird Craig and Kenny often being pothead frenemies thing? Idk when or why it started but it's pretty fun

Burnout yet extremely dependable Kenny working a ton in high school and often shooting for custody of his little sister Karen once of legal age. Also him being a scientific/mathematical genius but never applying it to prioritize Karen's comfort and safety instead. Also him being super clean given his family situation

Stan being the 5-in-1 body wash friend and Kyle being a major skin care girlie

When ppl draw them in the show's style and when they make them actually look like they're 9

Adaptation of the wackier canon events into a more realistic context like maintaining Butters's eye injury through other means, Kenny being gone for extended periods of time, Stan secretly taking in animals, still playing superheroes. I recently read an anger management counseling fic where Cartman bit off a guy's finger in an argument which I assumed was a Scott Tenorman Must Die reference

Pairing-related

Tweek being closer to the Tuckers than his own parents; his own house being tidier but the Tuckers' being much more of a home

Craig's been gay since 2007, Season 11 episode 8, "Le Petit Tourette." No straight reason for asking to do "the coolest kid in the world's" laundry. Has a type for twitchy dudes--Thomas from that same episode and then his relationship with Tweek

Cartman's demented-ass crush on Kyle; Kyman shipper or not, that kid's got bigass issues. I do not ship Kyman but Eric's got a fucked up little obsession with Kyle. Bro saved his family from deadly L.A. smug because he couldn't live happily without having Kyle there to constantly argue with

Stan being the one to be super down bad for Kyle yet also be the one with more issues in the relationship. I love Stan but dude has way too much of Randy in him, he's gotta be a pain in the ass

Only Kenny calling Butters "Leo," with most characters not recognizing his actual name being Leopold; being sort of popular as a secretive background relationship and Kenny being very protective

#south park #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #tweek tweak #clyde donovan

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techtainia-makes-things · 1 year ago

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More MTMTE Megatron x reader nonsense

In which Megatron is pining for the reader, and the reader is just glad that he isn’t sulking

This was the best day of your career.

You had joined the crew of the Lost Light with a brisk farewell to everything you’d ever known. You had stayed with them through the fighting, the deaths and the occasional visit to a planet. Or charisma parasites. Or the occasional series of time travel shenanigans. Anyways, none of those victories tasted as sweet on your tongue as this one. Nothing could beat the swell in your heart as you sighed in blissful relief.

Megatron wasn’t sulking.

He hadn’t hauled himself up in his habsuite, waiting for you to knock with a report and light conversation. He didn't pinch the bridge of his nose as Rodimus cartwheeled onto the bridge. He didn’t even make one sharp remark towards one of his fellow Autobots, if he could actually even be properly called one at this point. You were starting to truly believe that maybe one day, he could.

He was teaching.

You didn’t even know that the Lost Light had a lecture hall, but to see it filled with Autobots as you sat on a table in the back of the room was something else. It plastered a smile onto your face as Riptide asked if he had passed. Megatron had said no, but that he would explain why…

This was great.

Between statements, Megatron would glance in your direction and at your gigantuine smile. His back would somehow get straighter, and occasionally, he would give you a small smile back. Something glittered behind his ruby optics. You assumed that it was joy. This was good.

This was progress.

The class had ended as soon as it had begun, or it at least felt like it. You pulled your sleeve back from over your watch. Three hours had passed. Looking at everyone leaving, you could tell. Skids was getting rather twitchy. In the scramble to get out the door, Megatron strode over into long, unsure steps towards you.

“Y/N?”

You hum in response, the grin still splitting your face. “That was a great lecture…You make a good teacher.”

You could have sworn that you heard his cooling fans on their lowest setting, but that had to be your imagination. He paused, as if he was searching for the right words to say. “...Yes. Thank you…I hope that you are not too worn out for a few poems?”

“I never could be.” Not after he finally started step two of an attempted redemption: Actually getting up and doing some good. You had waited far too long for this for you to shut him down now. You could hardly even believe he had started writing again. A few love poems nonetheless. You wondered who they could be for, but you never asked. With the progress he was making, he would come to you eventually.

Megatron smiled, only slightly, as his optics crinkled up at the corners as much as they could with his metal face. For an ex-warlord, he had a nice smile. The way that the light of his optics bled onto his cheeks almost made it look like they were flushed with energon.

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

You had never looked at him like that before.

With eyes full of something that Megatron could only hope was adoration. Your smile shone brighter than the stars outside any window on the ship. He watched you from across the room, optics flicking between you and the group of autobots making their way through the door.

It was wonderful.

Just like that, he had another list of topics for his newer works of poetry. No wonder he wrote so much about you. Had showing them to you softened your heart to make you see him in a new light?

Then you mentioned his teaching.

Oh. Of course you were doing this. You had always watched any sort of kindness or intellectuality with the same kind of tender expression. Still, Megatron couldn’t help but relish in the unfiltered joy that flooded his spark when it was in his direction; made his spark flare and push against his spark chamber as if to reach out for you.

He paused.

How could he ever have thought that he deserved this kind of happiness? Your smile was his light in an ocean of darkness. Hope in a sea of hopelessness. It’s a shame that he met you when he did.

You would have loved him in his youth: A miner and a poet with a dream.

Megatron decided that he was more like that version of him now than the one he had left behind with his Decepticon badge. He snuffed out the voice in the back of his processor that said otherwise in hopes that it wouldn’t rear its ugly head ever again. If you would allow him to have you, he would. He just had to earn the right for the chance.

And he had just gotten started.

#Tech writes #I recently remembered that I wrote this #It’s been at least a year since I wrote it but it’s still one of my favorites #I love myself a dense love interest/hopeless pining #Have your food fellow MTMTE Megatron lovers and drink some water #MTMTE megatron #megatron x reader #mtmte megatron x reader

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citruslullabies · 10 months ago

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Hi hi!!!

If it wouldn't be too much trouble, do you think it'd be alright if I could request a cartoon catnap x reader (platonic, please) where the reader is known to be a daydreamer?

Maybe something where they hang out together, catnaps head in the reader's lap as they gently pet him and recount a daydream they had earlier during the day to him, almost as if they were telling him a bedtime story to help him relax more?

Thank you so much if you do write it! <3

Of course darling!! Youre welcome<3

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: platonic

Requested by: anonymous

Category: fluff (with a little drip of angst)

Ship (romantic or platonic): cartoon!catnap x daydreamer!reader

Word count: 587

Sleep With Both Eyes Open

You had always been recognized and known for your daydreams, constantly seen drifting off into your own little world.

Your brain would constantly be buzzing with ideas and dreams that would bring you out of reality and suck you into your own little world. But you were so calm because of it and maybe that's why Catnap liked you so much, because you had dreams and yet were so simple about them. It was a windy summer day, just sitting out in the field with your feline friend pressed against you as he purred.

You gently scratched behind his twitchy ears as he shut his eyes, feeling perfectly safe with you. With a smile you gently moved him to where he was laying on your lap so he could be more comfortable. You sighed softly and massaged his fluffy cheek in your palm.

“Earlier I had another daydream.” You murmured softly, warning a loud purr in response as he opened one of his eyes to acknowledge you. You didn't look down at him, but instead looked forward as you recalled it. “It was… strange, to say the least. I dreamt that you were very large and boney, and I was still me. You looked so scary but you approached me. You… let me hold your head in my hands, and we got to step outside together.”

Catnap looked up at you with pure curiosity, wondering what that could mean. His tail thumped against the ground as he nuzzled his head against your stomach. “That's odd.” He purred while you nodded and a sigh escaped your lips. “I thought it was sweet.”

The cat started to relax against you and fall asleep, while all you could do was stare off into the distance and daydream again. Your eyes went blank as you very slowly cocked your head to the side as if using your shoulder as a pillow.

…

A large grotesque creature In front of you with his form too tight for his bones, and his eye sockets too large for its eyes. It resembled your best friend as if it was a skinwalker who couldn't get it quite right. You stumbled forward, wanting to run but something drew you closer to it. You couldn't even speak but you reached your hand out as if a curious child wanting to touch something they had never seen before.

It stared down at you, mouth wide and forced into a never ending smile. Its bones creaked with every step it took forward, kneeling over at being face to face with you as it pressed its forehead against your hand. Its fur felt sickening like nothing else you had ever touched before. It was silent, eerily silent as it just watched you as if waiting for you to breathe. But you couldn't get a single breath out.

“The prototype… will save us…” It finally spoke, boney paws scratching into the floor as you stared with wide eyes and the inability to speak. But you grew curious as to what this meant, who was the prototype? You fought against your throat to speak but nothing came out. Your hand fell back to your side as if you were a strung puppet being controlled, and you watched as the creature went back to full height. Before red gas filled the damp air and you suddenly jolted awake. Breathing heavily as you looked around the bright and joyous field, looking back down at your feline friend with wide eyes.

Who was the prototype?

Thanks for requesting!

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime catnap #catnap poppy playtime #catnap #catnap x you #catnap x y/n #poppys playtime #poppy playtime fanfics #poppy playtime fics #smiling critters poppy playtime #catnap smiling critters #smiling critters catnap #poppy playtime chapter three #poppy playtime chapter 3 #reblogs are appreciated #reblogs>>>>>>>

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charleslee-valentine · 2 months ago

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TCM Ship Week @maskemasker

Day six prompt: Argument

Ship: Franknub (Franklin Hardesty x Nubbins Sawyer)

Word count: ~2,700

Warnings: Graphic cannibalism, threats of violence and of abuse, implied murder, ableism by way of ignorance, brief suicidal ideation, canon bullying (Kirk’s ableist rant about Franklin), Drayton Sawyer being a dehumanizing asshole.

——————

Franklin looks down at the plate of meat in front of him, the slightly too red sauce all around it. Ain’t no way is any of that goin’ anywhere near his mouth. He saw them butcherin’ jobs the big one was doin’ out in the kitchen. Don’t know who exactly ended up on his plate, but it certainly ain’t some cow.

“I ain’t eatin’ that.”

Doesn’t figure he needs to say why. And he don’t. That’s not what his captor, the twitchy one in green, questions him ‘bout.

“Why you wanna die for?”

So they hold knives to him, chase people down and slay ‘em like they ain’t nothin’, but a hunger strike is confusing to him.

Franklin can’t help but scoff, “Gonna happen either way, right? You either gonna kill me, or I’m gonna starve. Might as well starve.”

That just seems to make him more confused.

His face gets all scrunched up, and he whips his head around, like he’s lookin’ for someone to tell him what to say. Franklin realizes that’s exactly what he’s doin’ when his distressed expression is noticed by his brother, the old man, who waves him away immediately,

“Your mess, boy. You fix it.”

And he’s left to it, just the two of them at that grand table now.

Nubbins is his name, or at least that’s what he got called by the older one earlier today. Well Nubbins sinks down in defeat, shoulders slouched so far forward they’re resting against his knees. His hands fly up to his face, chewing on the skin around his nails, nervous about gettin’ left to his own devices.

“I-I ain’t ‘llowed to- to leave the table ‘til you eat.”

Now, he don’t take pride in bein’ rude, but it prob’ly don’t count if it’s towards someone like this. Franklin huffs in irritation, “Oh great. I get to put up with you for longer.”

Neither of ‘em meets the other’s eyes. Maybe different reasons for it, but they ain’t jovial, no matter how badly Nubbins wants them to be, “I’d eat- eat your supper for ya, b-but big brother would know. He al-always knows everythin’.”

As if. Franklin figures that’s good old fashioned fear talkin’. “He’s just some old man. Ain’t gonna know.”

Nubbins considers it, seems to roll that around in his head like a little pinball, back and forth ‘til he settles on not choosing sides. Changes the subject to make it seem like he never cared at all,

“M-Maybe I don’t wants second supper!”

“Congratulations then.” He can’t help but be blunt with him, though Franklin feels a little pinch of sympathy when Nubbins doesn’t get his sarcasm.

His twinkly eyes narrow, “What for?”

“You really don’t get out much, do ya?”

“Says you! I get out p-p-plenty! Y-You don’t even got legs! You ain’t g-goin’ nowhere never!”

Now, Franklin’s heard a lot of awful things about hisself, ‘bout the way he moves and looks and all, but that’s a new one. He takes it in stride with a questioning look but sees it as his chance to suggest, “Could go more places if y’all’d give me my wheels back.”

Again, Nubbins hunches down like a cat. “Can’t.”

Shit, that can’t be good.

“Why? What the hell did y’all do with it?” Franklin catches himself breathin’ hard. More scared now that somethin’ happened to his wheelchair and he’ll have to live without it, than the chance they’ll just kill him off.

Nubbins watches a bead of blood he bit free from his own fingertip roll, focusing on that ‘stead of the question he’s s’posed to be answerin’. Like if he ignores Franklin hard enough, he won’t have to answer his question. But then it bubbles outta him all at once, “Uh. B-Bubba tried t-to fold it, a-an’ it busted.”

“Jesus, how busted.”

“For forever busted.”

So they do psychological torture here too. Franklin would laugh if he wasn’t sick to his stomach. Not sure if he should sob ‘til he gets sick all over the place or yell ‘til his mouth is too full of blood to, he raises his voice in exasperation, “Oh y’all really should just kill me now. Fuck’s sake, you’d think even a cannibal would have some god damned decency not to break a man’s wheelchair!”

“I-I didn’t!” Nubbins insists right away, sounding just as angry that Franklin would direct his emotions his way.

“Nobody woulda if y’all hadn’t taken it!” He can’t help but point it out. Even if he don’t like the unpleasantness. Maybe Nubbins’ll dislike it enough to kill him and this’ll be over.

No dice.

“Sh-Shut up!” Nubbins claps his hands over his ears and shakes his head wildly, “Y-You ain’t supposed to be mean to me. You my only friend!”

Well. Now he feels even *more* bad for him. Might be a better idea to get Nubbins on his good side instead. Though, he can’t help but point out, more baffled than venomous anymore, “Friends don’t feed their friends people meat!”

Nubbins’ eyes burn with satisfaction ‘cause now he’s got somethin’ over Franklin, “Wh-What does you know about it? Y-Your friends was mean ‘n didn’t even like you!! Friends d-don’t talk like them do neither!! -Put him outta our m-misery.-“

Sounds right. But Franklin don’t want it to be. “Who the hell said that?”

He sure hopes it wasn’t Sally.

But no, Nubbins informs him it was, “Supper boy.”

Ah. Franklin couldn’t confirm it before, but guess that does it; that slab of meat on his plate was once Kirk Waisanen. Can’t‘ve been Jerry, saw him get shoved in the ice box. Honestly, Kirk prob’ly woulda been his first guess anyhow. Never was real good at hidin’ the hate he held in his faux-suede heart.

Pink in the face, he gets defensive anyhow, “Well who says he was talkin’ ‘bout me?”

“Total zero in the world. Someone oughta shoot him. Put him outta our misery... Franklin never was little.” Nubbins parrots an imitation perfectly, even that stutter of his goin’ away for his stuck up yuppie impression. Shit.

Franklin don’t want to lower his guard that easy, but between Nubbins and the gelatinous piece of meat on the fine china, only one was honest with him. He pushes,

“What if’n I don’t believe you?”

“I heared it all in the b-b-backyard. ‘Fore they go’d in the house and B-Bubba knocked his stupid head in with- with his hammer.” Says it like he’s all proud of himself too, Nubbins does.

“So what, you think you’re better to me than that?” Franklin challenges. Kinda would be nice.

Maybe he’s sick already, to think attention from a killer is any good. Hard not to after how his past few days on that trip went, long before any dracula hitchhikers got involved. The thought crosses Franklin’s mind now, ‘bout how right he was when he said that ‘bout Nubbins. Just bein’ all mean and bitchy ‘cause everyone else was bein’ that way to him. But the Dracula thing was part true, ‘cause ain’t no way this slab of human steak is cooked all the way through.

Speaking of, Nubbins reminds him cautiously, like he’s afraid of remembering responsibility, “I’m t-tryin’ to feed you your supper.”

It’s ‘cause he don’t wanna get in trouble. Franklin knows that, he knows what the old man’ll do if he finds out Nubbins is failin’ at fixin’ this mess.

His heart drops when he’s got to admit it’s also because-

“Cause even the cannibal don’t want me dead as much as my own friends did... Goddamnit.”

And for the first time in Lord only knows how long he’s been here, at least two nights, Franklin breaks. The wall of emotion just hits him like a tanker truck right in the chest. Now, Franklin’s been criticized a long time for bein’ loud, bein’ a brat, whatever they called it when he tried to be listened to, but even that wasn’t outright cryin’.

Well he does now. Franklin leans as back in his chair as the top of his spine will let him, tears runnin’ backwards to pool in the corners of his eyes and run into his hair stead of bein’ so obvious. But Nubbins watches every last thing like an owl with them big eyes o’ his. He caught the shimmer of grief the second it flooded Franklin’s weary soul. l

Trying, in the way he knows how, to be gentl, Nubbins offers a compromise of comfort,

“Uh. Y-You should eat your supper, a-an’ then we can go.”

“Go where? Go rot in the basement with the others?” Franklin’s voice crackles and burns with emotion, and now he’s startin’ to realize how precious those tears were. Dehydratin’ himself ‘cause he can’t control his emotions, how wonderful.

Quickly Nubbins dismisses that idea outright, as if doin’ it physically by waving both of his bony hands about. “Nuh-uh. I-If you starved I’d keep you f-for my-my arts. I wouldn’t eat ya.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Despite his dryness, Nubbins doesn’t understand Franklin was being cold again.

All he hears is a thanks for the advice, and oh how he beams. Bigger than he thinks he’s ever seen anybody smile, even the church belles posin’ for their pageant photos didn’t try to pull on artificial joy that hard. That smile of Nubbins’ is as all real, crooked and wobbly and marred by rot that it is.

Franklin can’t keep up the energy to be harsh. Hell, with a broken wheelchair, he’s got nothin’ to lose by just bein’ nice. Not like he can run off.

He looks Nubbins straight in the eye to catch his attention that this is serious business for him to lower his guard, “Alright. Alright. If I do this, you promise me somethin’?”

Nubbins insists. “I’m good at promises.”

Somehow Franklin doubts a tricky thing like him truly can even keep a promise, but maybe he’ll try to. Who the knows and who the hell cares. A friend might be enough for the level of worn out Franklin is feelin’ right now.

One final plea to save his life, well, and to make a friend out of a shit situation, Franklin can hear the adrenaline makin’ his heart rate go up, “You spare me tonight, you best do it for the rest of time, alright? We ain’t just friends no more, we’re the best friends in the whole world.”

Might’ve been too much at once, ‘cause now Nubbins narrows his eyes and observes, “I don’t like l-liars. I p-p-peel’t the last pig done told me a lie.”

“Friends don’t lie to friends either, do they?” Franklin raises his eyebrows when he says that they’re friends. Emphasizing to Nubbins he’s still got a little bit of power left, even if he’s nicer now.

This friendship ain’t a favor. It ain’t *just* a for-tonight thing. A deal is a deal and Franklin thinks he’ll be just fine if he keeps this up. Hopes he will, anyhow.

Makes Nubbins giddy enough anyhow. Stands up outta his seat, pacing the length of table and doing a little hop each time he turns around, waving his arms. All that excited energy, over bein’ called somebody’s friend, it’s gotta go somewhere. At least this way Franklin knows he wasn’t playin’ some kinda trick, wantin’ to be his friend and all.

It’s too bad reality is sittin’ fetid in front of him an’ distractin’ him from the joy.

Franklin looks away from Nubbins and down at his plate instead. His head is full of doubt, thinkin’ about what Nubbins says Kirk said, only he knows it’s true cause he can just hear it in Kirk's voice. Always under the surface if helpin’, as if two little strips of plywood couldn’t be placed by anybody else who hated him a little less. The guy is so damn mean. Or, he was. ‘Cause he’s dead now.

Serves him right.

Franklin bitterly imagines his teeth tearing into the Kirk roast on his supper plate, pleased to find he doesn’t immediately feel sick this time. Must be thinkin’ loud, maybe making frustrated noise of his own. He looks up from the piece of meat and realizes Nubbins is now the opposite of before, stopped and just watching. Perched on a chair like an owl.

Franklin, alight with anxiety, decides to just do it. He closes his eyes tightly, and he takes a bite of the meat. Surprisingly, his first instinct isn’t to gag, his body not rejecting the most immoral meal he’d ever did. Nubbins is leaned close to watch every movement, and the second the meat is off the silverware, he gets that big smile again. Not understanding social convention, he notices the sweat on Franklin’s cheek from all the nerves and pokes it, like he’s petting him to soothe.

There’s a whole plate now he’s gotta push through, but one bite is at least progress. Nubbins thinks so too, ‘cause after a moment to let it sink in, he immediately goes running to tell Drayton that Franklin is on his best behavior. I’m his absence, Franklin looks down at the plate, knowin’ he oughta finish before that real cynical one shows up. Closing his eyes tightly, he eats every last bite of the human meat serving.

“C-Cook, you gotta let him g-go now, he was r-real good- real good an’ eated all ‘a that guy we give him!! Look!” Nubbins excitedly announces, dragging his brother by the arm.

He’s rightfully skeptical of a newcomer changing so fast, though it’s evident Franklin ain’t entirely typical. “Didn’t dump it on the floor did, ya?”

“No sir.”

“Didn’t make Nubbins eat it?”

Interesting he mentions it when Nubbins was so scared of gettin’ in trouble for exactly that. Franklin’s tone is a little dry, a little irritated, but he answers him, “No sir. He wouldn’t‘ve even if I tried.”

“Better not.” The old man turns and ignores Franklin’s existence completely now, to explain to Nubbins, “Alright, boy. For catchin’ that girl yesterday, you can keep the cripple.”

Oh. That confirms that then. Sally didn’t get away on that last burst of energy. And here, Franklin just ate a people steak. Somehow he didn’t feel sick before, but now he does. Ashamed and guilty and pissed off at himself. Though it’s possible that’s a lie. Could be tryin’ to get in his head. Maybe someday he’ll know.

Ignoring Franklin’s mini-crisis, Drayton talks over his heightened breathing to tell Nubbins, “Bubba’ll carry your pet upstairs now, but boy you best stay here now, take care of this new- new development. ‘Cause if I hear wind you left home ‘gain ‘n made Bubba take care of this’n, I’ll personally see to it he’s bled dry ‘n left out for the vultures.”

Nubbins doesn’t like the sound of that and tries to argue, “B-But-“

No matter, his brother clenches his fist and screams over him anyhow, “You argue with me an’ I’ll kill the damn thing now!”

Franklin is pissed. Beyond pissed, over bein’ talked about that way. No fair that he got to digest the last asshole who said awful things about him, but can’t shut up that evil old man. At least he can tell Nubbins is upset too, means he ain’t alone in this mess now.

Out of his mind or maybe just broken down, Franklin decides to be nice to Nubbins then. If Sally really is dead, he’s got nobody else to connect with left in the worl. Plus, if he’s gonna die here one way or another, at least if he’s kind he’ll know Nubbins saw him as a friend rather than as some meat or a cow or a *thing*.

Franklin speaks up for Nubbins a little, but so they won’t get in trouble, he declaring polite compliance, “I’m finished my supper. Nubbins was very helpful to tell me all about how y’all killed and cooked up Kirk. I gotta say, he really deserved it. Didn’t taste as rotten as his soul was though. Matter of fact, y’all got any more of that meat?”

Never seen somebody look so proud as the bright and giddy look on Nubbins’ face. Franklin won’t mind bein’ his friend, he thinks, if he keeps showin’ off that smile. This time, Franklin smiles back.

#my writing #my fic #franknub #franklin x nubbins #nubbins sawyer #franklin hardesty #tcm 1974 #tcm au #please heed warnings this one is optimistic but mostly sad

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