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bits-and-babs · 7 months

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✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

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"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house.

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises.

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether.

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence.

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde."

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'.

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes."

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel.

✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it.

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that.

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order.

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it.

He says nothing.

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt.

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils.

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk.

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action.

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much.

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose.

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock.

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'.

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head.

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform.

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast.

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune.

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed.

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet.

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission.

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you.

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up.

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another."

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins.

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side.

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention.

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes.

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow.

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth.

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue.

"The mask stays on."

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand.

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise.

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body.

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape.

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave.

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you.

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged.

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation.

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair.

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand.

“What was the prize?”

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes.

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex.

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily.

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression.

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–”

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly.

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress.

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion.

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips.

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot.

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing.

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre.

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?”

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth.

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?”

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper.

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–”

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name.

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration.

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–”

✰

“He’s blonde.”

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull.

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust.

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively.

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

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@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

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tojisun · 5 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/738535284282638336/a-tentative-hc-of-bimboreaders-insta-acc bimboReader is a penguin lover?! I can picture her calling ‘Simmy’ in tears when she learns that penguins give pebbles as courting gifts 🥰

she is into penguins!! it’s her current fixation, on top of butterfly migration cycles (and selfcare routines – this one is sups important because it’s also meant to give simon a moment of reprieve; just the two of them enjoying a quiet relaxing skincare sesh <33)!! and ahshdhe this made me giggle sm oh this is so adorable and silly, i fear!!!

bimbo!reader mlist <3 // divider by @/plutism ^3^

simon’s focus is splintered at the first chimes of his phone, the sound ringing within the small war room and taking the attention of his squad. his captain trails off into silence, shooting a bewildered look towards simon – it’s not like simon can blame him, after all, this might be the first time he’s actually brought his phone with him during a briefing.

“what…” johnny murmurs but simon ignores him, still planting his focus to his CO as he tilts his head in silent question. john sighs before shooting simon a short nod, giving him his permission. simon turns to leave before john’s even done nodding, his quiet footsteps drowned out by the sound of john dismissing them for the day.

simon doesn’t even need to guess who’s calling him, after all, it’s only your number he’s saved in his work phone. it’s only you who can reach him when he’s out of the city. usually, though, you wouldn’t call him at this time, choosing, instead, to send series of texts about your day or sending over pictures of mittens or anything that could have caught your fancy. so receiving a call from you worries him, the ball of anxiety in his stomach ever-so expanding until he’s all choked up.

he’s barely made it to his room when simon accepts your call, your name falling from his lips with a breathless whisper.

the answering sniffle on your end does nothing to calm him down, the worry simmering underneath his veins spiking up higher. lashing out angrier.

“shh, sweetpea,” simon murmurs, hoping he could do more than just to comfort you over a call. “c’mon, lovie. talk to me, yeah? tell me how i can help.”

“oh, it’s just,” you mumble wetly. “pebbles.”

“…pebbles?”

“mhmm,” he hears you say. “simmy, penguins give out pebbles or rocks as courting gifts!” he hears you sniffle again. “history channel said so.”

“animal planet, sweets,” simon replies automatically before he pauses, blinking.

oh.

“oh, love,” simon wheezes out, the breath coming back to him, feeling his body finally uncoil from the tension that he was carrying. he sags down to his bed and presses the back of his palm on his temple as a chuckle rasps out from his lips. “but y’r doin’ alright?”

“hmm? oh, yes,” you say, sounding less heartbroken and simon wonders if it was because your attention’s been snagged, once again, by the animal planet channel – simon could hear the familiar british narrator droning on in the background.

simon lets out a fond chuckle. “‘lright then.” he licks the back of his teeth. “tell me more about their courting style?”

he hears you gasp before a rapid fire of information is chirped to his ears, the beautiful drawl of your voice chasing away the last remnants of the worry that had choked him up.

you tell him how the documentary was upfront in saying that scientific explanation for the phenomena has yet to be fully explored, so the documentary had honoured, instead, the longstanding theory of female penguins accepting rocks as courting gifts because it shows that the male penguin knows how he can take care of their eggs. “rocks keep the eggs and their nests afloat!”

simon hums and ohh’s and ahh’s at the appropriate times, posing questions that steered the conversation to the right track when you began to mumble distractedly. simon listens in earnest because he may not really care much about penguins but he cares a lot about you. he cares about learning your interests; cares about cultivating his own because whatever his girl wants, simon promises he will learn for her.

and with the way your voice lilts in joy, well, simon knows he’s done the right thing.

(simon returns from their mission with two rocks in his person – one is a polished pebble which he painstakingly looked for when he went down to the beach. the squad insisted on coming with him although the fuckers were not of any help – not like he would’ve accepted it anyway – as they chose to just sit by the local ice cream shop and watched as simon prowled towards the shore in the middle of winter; the one he found was a beautiful hazel colour, mixed greens and browns and even a touch of blues making up the surface of the rock.

the second one he brought with him was a diamond ring.)

this is so silly i love them bad :((

tagging: @honestlyhiswife @ghostsbimbo @kenz-ee @ivymarquis @yannauauau @yaebaal @liwooa @kariiiel @loonalockley @hawsx3 @durkakakayata @littlecellist

#anon #bimbo!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #suns #ask #luv plutisms dividers sm <33

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wingedjellyfishflight · 3 months

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The Couch

Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.

You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.

The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.

"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.

Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.

It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.

A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.

"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.

It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.

"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."

"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.

"Then, how did you convince them?"

"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.

"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.

"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."

"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.

"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."

"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.

"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"

"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."

You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"

"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.

"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"

His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."

"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."

Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.

The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.

The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.

"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.

"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.

"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.

"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.

"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.

"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.

"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."

You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."

"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.

"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."

He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."

"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.

"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."

"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.

"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.

"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."

You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.

"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."

"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.

"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.

"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.

"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."

"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.

"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.

"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"

"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.

"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #konig cod #fluff

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the-californicationist · 6 months

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✨Masterlist✨

This is the masterlist for The Californicationist's Tumblr & AO3 texts.

All works should be considered 18+ only. MDNI - no exceptions.

CALL OF DUTY

Novel-Length Works

Gunslinger Price/Reader - AO3 - 100k - Complete You open your home as a safehouse for the 141, and your relationship with John Price unfolds into an epic love story.

Guardian Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 45k - Complete Konig, inexplicably working with SpecGru, clears out a Konni base and finds a hostage with amnesia, only to fall hopelessly in love with her.

Guile & Guilt Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - Complete Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.

The Sin-Eater Price/Reader - Co-Author: @vampirekilmer - AO3 - WIP Captain John Price is a loving husband, a dedicated soldier, and a good man. But, that’s not all he is. Underneath his controlled exterior lurks something dark, something hungry, and something wholly inhuman. You’re his only solace during his wrath, and only you can consume the sin from his shifts.

One-Shot Works

Gauntlet (Kinktober 2023) [External Post] Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 58k - Complete TW: too many to list here 😈 A collection of 30 kink-focused one-shots

Budapest Price/Reader - AO3 - 1.2k - Complete TW: major character death, explicit sex Captain John Price comes home to you a changed man.

Going Home Gaz/Nova - AO3 - 4.3k - Complete TW: explicit sex, voyeurism Gaz and Nova spend their leave together at his childhood home. This is set in the Gunslinger universe.

Gravitational Shift Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2k - Complete TW: Space AU, includes the Force from the Star Wars fandom, force-bond sex Captain Price senses a disturbance in the force, and when he bonds with her, he decides he's never letting go.

Ground & Pound Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 5.8k - Complete TW: NC/CNC, bondage, violence Konig's ex-girlfriend shows up to the base, and Konig loses his absolute mind over her...and takes things too far.

Growl Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: pegging, femdom When you agreed to come over to John Price’s house for drinks, you had no idea it would escalate so damn swiftly.

The Orchard Price/Reader - AO3/Tumbr - 3.8k - Complete TW: CNC, primal play, bondage John Price chases you through the woods to make sure you learn your lesson.

The Fisherman's Knot Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2.9k - Complete ABO AU - Captain John Price rescues a pretty Alpha from a kayaking accident in his fishing cove, his body betrays his gentle nature.

The Honest Man Mace/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: Breeding kink Mace tries to convince you to build a life with him again, especially if it means adding another baby into the mix.

The Missed Deadline Gaz/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.7k - Complete TW: Virginity loss You and Kyle had a virginity pact.

The Fourth of July Alex Keller/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3.5k - Complete TW: Blow job You and Alex get a little carried away in the pool house.

The Fox & the Hound Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.5k - WIP(?) TW: Literal porn, exhibition Your first porno shoot doesn't go exactly to plan. Your co-star, Johnny "Dangerous" MacTavish, sets his sights on you and makes you his personal project. (Labeled WIP because I'm considering a Chapter 02 moment).

The Green Light Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.8k - Complete TW: Dubcon/CNC John Price comes home with only one thing on his mind: you and those bright green panties. Even though you're sound asleep, he just can't stop himself.

The Dealer’s Choice 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.4k - Complete TW: Gangbang The 141 are stranded and you’re the safe house manager. You have fun playing strip poker.

The Simple Mistake Ghost/Soap - AO3 - 1.4k - Complete Soap and Ghost have to hide together, injured and desperate in a shelter until their rescue party arrives.

The Devil's Summer Konig/Named Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3k - Complete TW: Rape, non-consent, assault, corpses, violence, named reader A tall, foreign stranger comes to town with his masked crew of bandits. They rob the train station and the bank, but the big one… he has his sights set on a different sort of prize: you.

The Advent Calendar Ghost/Soap - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete Soap gave Ghost an advent calendar this year. It's a little more romantic than he realized.

The False Alarm 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete TW: Gangbang Cleaning the pole in the firehouse was hard work, but someone had to do it. But, when your harness broke and you were left dangling there, free to use for a firehouse full of men… you were in charge of cleaning a lot more poles than you bargained for.

There’s more, but I ran out of room! I’m trying to figure out how to fix it. Sorry 😣

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licorice-tea · 3 months

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The Object Of All My Desires

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: so much angst, unrequited feelings (or so law thinks!), pining, yearning, (verbal) fighting, cursing, reader refers to law as a “stalker”, which is valid tbh bc he’s being a little weird, but not really, strawhat reader

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: oh my god i spend so long on this and i just kept hitting mental roadblocks! but then, tonight i got the inspiration to write like ~500 words and finished it up. there were only meant to be 2 parts, but similar to the second season of bridgerton (which it’s inspired by) there will be a 3rd! (the 1st part is based on the first meeting of kate/anthony, this part is based on that entire pinning phase+the confesssion, and the last will be shorter and basically be a resolution of everything.) also, im looking for beta readers! pls dm or comment if you’re interested!!! and if you’d like to be tagged in the next lmk! thanks for reading <3

Part 1 • Part 3

The second time you and Law were around one another long enough to have to face the other and, god forbid, speak, would come 2 years after your first meeting. After all your training apart from your crew, you had finally united and started traveling together again. You and your nakama took on all the challenges Fishman Island had thrown at you and soon moved on to the next adventure: Punk Hazard. It was there you met the standoffish Captain of the Heart Pirates again, and he proposed an alliance to Luffy between your two crews. So here you are; in an alliance with a captain you’d managed to piss off 2 years ago, and who clearly still carries that grudge with him.

Law already doesn’t like being part of the alliance with Straw Hat- but you only make it 1000 times worse. It’s unbearable having to be on the same ship as you, let alone sit at the same table over meals or pass each other in hallways. Not to mention, you seem to make everything a competition. And he doesn’t want to be in as childish a feud as the one that the swordsman and the love cook have, but you’re forcing him to act that way. You’re absolutely insufferable, and how he ever found you remotely intriguing or pretty to begin with is beyond his comprehension.

And yet, Law can’t pull himself away from you, nor you from him. He lingers in dark hallways just to pass by you as you go about your errands on the ship. He stares long enough to burn holes through you, then turns away milliseconds before you catch him (or so he thinks.) But every time you approach the reserved man, he exudes an air of annoyance.

It all makes you wonder, “What’s his deal?” Besides your little tiff back in Sabaody 2 years ago, you’ve never done anything to offend him in his time on the Sunny… Maybe you just need to clear the air. Yeah, that’s it; confront Law and ensure there is no bad blood between the two of you. No grudges, just goodwill.

You hope.

The Strawhats and co (Law) are docked at a small island, just for a day or so. Frankly needs supplies, Sanji; ingredients, Chopper; medicine, Zoro; booze, etcetera. And since most of the others have something specific they’re in search of, you have a free day to explore and shop!

You bid Brooke goodbye and thank him for watching the ship, then make your way up the dock and into town. It’s a quaint area, but the market near the entrance of what resembles a town square is overflowing with interesting bits and baubles.

Though you are happy to have this time to yourself, you’re not alone. Law is a mere 20ish feet away. He doesn’t greet you or even make eye contact, instead choosing to lean into shadows and stand behind vendor booths. You can tell that he’s trying to go unnoticed, pretending to be interested in whatever wares the shopkeepers have for sale every time you turn back to check for him.

And it’s fine, for a while. This could be a good opportunity to try and talk to him and ensure that the two of you are on good, if not neutral terms. It’s a little strange that he’s following you now after the two of you have had close to no interactions during his week or so on board the Thousand Sunny, but you don’t mind.

You cannot, however, pass up the opportunity to harmlessly scare him when he gets momentarily distracted by one of the little shops. While Law is reading titles of comic books (how strange…), you double back so that when he looks up, he can’t find you. He scans the marketplace, but to no avail- you must have run off somewhere.

Then you tap his shoulder, and the man nearly jumps out of his skin as he whips his head around to see who it is.

“You really like stalking me, huh?”

“…I’m not stalking you.”

“No? Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s the second time it’s happened.”

“What are you-“

“Sabaody, 2 years ago.”

“I wasn’t stalking you then, either.”

“Fine; following me through at least 3 groves while trying to be quiet and stay out of sight.”

Law scoffs. “Whatever.”

“Hm…” You lean to the side to see what’s behind him; display shelves with various comic books. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing, I wasn’t even looking here.”

“Ah, so it’s ok for you to lie to my face, but not me to you. Got it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You nearly laugh. 2 years ago, after proceeding to follow you through several groves of the Archipelago, Law had insisted on knowing if you were a pirate or not, and the conversation had somehow escalated into an argument. It was a stupid little thing. But, you find it funny now, which is why you’re attempting to make jokes about the encounter and ensure him there are no hard feelings reserved over it. “Again, Sabaody.”

“Well… maybe you should stop carrying a grudge over that.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I only bring it up because I think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s childish.” Law doesn’t know why he says this, to be honest. He wants to come off as smart and witty, though he might not have executed it very well.

With a scoff, you cross your arms. “Law you’ve refused to even look at me in your time with my crew. When I try to talk to you, you act like you don’t hear me or straight up ignore me. Then you go and stare at me from across as if I can’t see you. And I’m childish?”

“Yeah, you are, and I don’t like you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Better than you being an awkward asshole with no explanations as to why.”

“I’m not fucking awkward, shut up.”

“Oh no, you just follow people around for the better part of an hour without talking to them. Very charming.”

Law huffs, unamused, and storms off without another word.

You sigh and continue browsing the stalls. “Ok, so, maybe there is some bad blood between us….”

Things are awkward between you and Law for the remainder of the evening. Not only is he avoiding you, but you’re also avoiding him. And though you still try your best to be at least a little friendly, he straight up ignores all of your attempts. Whereas before your little confrontation in the marketplace, the stoic man would have at least responded with an eye roll.

When it’s dinnertime, you take your seat next to Robin as usual. Casual conversation and laughter flow around the table easily and seemingly endlessly… until Law walks in. He sits in the only empty chair, next to Chopper’s, and nods at Sanji in thanks for the food. And you, foolishly, try to incorporate him into the conversation. Maybe you do it to try and heal the small rift between the two of you, or maybe you simply want to provoke him further (though you'd never admit it.)

“So, Law, how was your day?”

Everyone pauses their conversations to not-so-discreetly listen in. They had also recognized the growing tension between you and the ally captain, for seemingly no reason at all.

“Mind your own business.”

“Hard to do when you’re always in mine.”

He nearly spits out his drink.“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m starting to get sick of your behavior, y/n.”

“So sick that you just can’t seem to leave me alone?”

“Watch the way you speak to me-“

“My apologies Law, I’m so used to being watched by you rather than having conversations, I must have forgotten my manners-“

“Shut up!”

“Fuck you!”

Now that both of your voices are raised, the crew sees it fit to intervene.

“Watch how you speak to them, Trafalgar-“ Sanji warns.

Similarly, Robin tries to talk you down. “Y/n, he’s our ally-“

The attempts to calm what had nearly turned into a screaming match prove futile, as Law storms out. You scoff and cross your arms. He’s so infuriating, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Silence passes as your crewmates look between each other, none wanting to be the first to… console you? Admonish? Give advice.

“You two should talk, y/n.” Says Robin, ever so mature.

“If he wants to talk, he can come to me instead of constantly staring at me from across the deck without saying anything.”

“Well, he’s clearly not very good at showing it, but you realize that he likes you, don’t you?”

You blink and turn to look at her. This must be another one of her dark jokes. “Very funny, Robin.”

“Oh, y/n, come on!“ Usopp groans; he’s had enough of the yearning and tension. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“No! Because he doesn’t like me. He’s been holding a stupid grudge against me since the first time we met back in Sabaody-“

Nami backs up Usopp’s point; “A crush, y/n. He’s had a crush on you and he’s too shy to talk to you normally-“

“So, what, it’s ok for him to just watch from afar but then act like a jerk when I try and talk to him?”

Surprisingly, Chopper speaks up next. “…Maybe your intentions came off different than intended?”

This makes you bite your lip in thought. Perhaps they had.

Nami pats your shoulder, “Now, go work this out so the rest of us don’t have to deal with all your unresolved tension.”

You unintentionally pout; the last thing you want is to talk to Law right now. But, your crew urges you on, and all but pushes you out the door.

You find him pacing back and forth on the starboard deck of the Sunny.

“Law?”

He whips around and you swear you see his scowl become even more pronounced than usual. The crease between his brows deepens, as the corners of his lips turn into a borderline pout. “Not done tormenting me?

“Tormenting? I just… I came to talk to you.“

“I find that hard to believe. From the moment we met, you have been nothing but rude and a nuisance to me.”

You scoff, all plans of reconciliation forgotten. “Believe me, Law, the feeling is mutual.”

“Fuck off.”

“This is my ship, so why don’t you fuck off? Jump overboard for all I care.”

“Maybe I will if it gets me away from you.” Law turns on his heel and storms off the open deck and into a hallway.

“Good luck swimming, asshole!”

Your rebuttal brings him right back to his former position, face to face with you so that your screaming match can continue “I hope you know that every moment I have to spend on this ship is torture, y/n, all because of you.”

“I haven’t done shit to you, Law.”

“Then whose fault is it that I feel this way? Go on, name someone else so I can take it out on them instead.”

“It’s your fault if you feel any type of way about me besides amicably. I’ve been nothing but kind, and-“

“Bullshit. Whether you know it or not you’ve done… something to me, I can feel it.”

“Oh yeah? And since when do you know anything about how you feel, all you do is brood.”

“I don’t brood. And I know that you are the bane of my existence.” He spits back, making sure to emphasize the word bane.

You hold your breath, refusing to play into this childish argument any longer. Or maybe it’s because, even if it’s just a little, his words genuinely hurt. You realize then, that you don’t want to be the so called ‘bane of his existence.’ He takes your silence as an opportunity to continue, though at a much lower volume than before.

“… And the object of all my desires.”

After a moment of disbelief, your scowl turns to a raised brow. “Excuse me?”

“Every one of my waking hours is plagued by thoughts of you. It doesn’t help that I can’t go anywhere on this goddamned ship-“

“Don’t you talk about the Sunny that way-“

“- without seeing you!”

“Well you must enjoy being around me if you’ve decided I’m,” you create air quotations with your hands, “the object of all your desires.”

You feel so out of your depth now. All you know to do is to bite back with witty remarks, even when he opens up to you. And he seems to do the exact same.

“It’s a nuisance.”

Your lip trembles, but you refuse to cry in front of Law while he plays this sick mind game with you. “I didn’t know liking me was such an awful fate.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “There are so many other things I should be focused on, but all I think of is you. It’s not awful, but it’s making me weak.”

“You’re such a prick, Law.”

He’s bewildered, mouth gaping as he tries to understand what could’ve been wrong with what he’s just confessed to you. “I’m saying I like you, y/n, I- Do you hate me that much?”

“No, I don’t hate you, idiot! But you- when you started traveling with us, you made me feel like I had done something to offend you, and then when I confronted you about it in the market you started to really hold a grudge, then you - I just- that’s not how you treat people!”

“Y/n-“

“Are you messing with me right now, Law? Is this another play to try and gain the upper hand in this… ongoing thing we have?”

“No, I wouldn’t…” He trails off and shakes his head. He probably would, if he weren’t so enamored with you and on the condition he possessed the social skills to pull off such an elaborate scheme. “It’s not.”

You’re silent again, but both you and Law are refusing to break eye contact. He must notice your still watery eyes and trembling bottom lip because he steps forward. His hand travels to your arm, then your chin. Forced to look at him, you are pained to see a similar unhappy look in his eyes. Minus the tears. You could almost take him for sorry if it weren’t Trafalgar Law, of all people. So instead of falling into his arms like you suddenly feel a desperate need to; you step backward.

You fold your arms over your chest as you look off somewhere- anywhere besides his eyes. “Law, nothing good can come of this.”

“This? What is this, y/n?”

“These.. feelings.”

“You feel the same?”

“I didn’t ask to feel this way!” You bite back, “But… yes, I do.”

“So what should we do?”

“We aren’t going to do anything, Law. You just stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.”

“I thought you didn’t like that I was avoiding you?”

“Well now that I know why, what else can be done? Nothing can happen between us, Law. And we can’t allow feelings to complicate this alliance. I can’t allow that, at least; it’s too important to Luffy.”

He searches for reasoning that will trump yours but comes up with none. And so, with a heavy heart, he concedes. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Nothing happened.” Law confirms.

“And nothing will.”

You nod and start walking away. “Goodnight, Law.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

And once you’re back safely in your room, the tears start to spill. You hate this- you hate him. You hate the way he makes you feel. You hate that you’re in love with him, and it took you this long to realize.

The tears don’t stop until you’re knocked out, and by the time you wake up, they’ve stained your cheeks.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law angst #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #straw hat reader #straw hat pirates

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turtletaubwrites · 4 months

Text

A Good Catch ~ Part 1

✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨

I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4367

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅

A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!

“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”

The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you.

Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket.

You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way.

Not that it matters. They’re pirates.

It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by.

A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky.

“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you.

“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands.

“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”

His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming.

He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…

“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you.

“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”

It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.

Fuck.

“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms.

“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”

“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy.

You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.

You barely heard his shouts as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you.

“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”

“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”

You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited.

“Welcome aboard!”

Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt.

Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye…

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you.

“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”

“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile.

His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…

His eyes were way too close to you.

“Are you alright?”

Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water.

Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes.

The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you.

“Is there anything else you need, miss…”

Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.

“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”

His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you.

“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”

He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction.

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.

“How long until we’re at the village?”

The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out.

“It should be about three days from now.”

“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.

“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.

He just smirked, tilting his head.

“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”

For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.

“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”

His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net.

“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”

Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.

“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”

The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.

“Why’s that one special?”

The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain.

“It was a good catch.”

He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that.

Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass.

“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”

Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it.”

He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.

“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”

You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.

But it was too late.

Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.

The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide.

“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.

“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”

A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves.

Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like.

“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”

He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question.

“Y/N.”

He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.

“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”

You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck.

Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.

But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in.

How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine?

Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.

He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first.

The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.

“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”

Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.

Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it.

“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”

“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.

“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”

“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.

He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”

A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him.

But you were exhausted.

“You’ll sit in front of the door?”

He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.

“I will.”

“Will you wear a blindfold?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.

“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”

Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.

But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm.

Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out.

“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”

This is really nice soap.

Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin.

But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door.

“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”

That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin.

The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

How did he hear that over the shower?

“What the hell is this?”

“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”

You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off.

The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.

“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.

The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.

“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.

His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”

“Fuck you.”

His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.

“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”

Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.

“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”

Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little.

You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.

“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”

You kicked the pirate for being such a dick.

“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it.

“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”

Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew.

“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.

Of course. We’re getting his clothes.

It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air.

The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.

“Here, love, how about these?”

“Do you have a belt?”

Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.

Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does.

“You almost finished? The party’s star…”

Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.

“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”

He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment.

Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.

“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”

“I…”

“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”

He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway.

Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions.

Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it.

Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him.

“Just let me know if that ever changes.”

He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit.

“You comin’? I’m hungry.”

Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.

He really is some sort of seduction demon.

“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”

“This is how you talk about your captain?”

The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.

“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.

“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”

He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire.

“Come on, the food’s almost done.”

The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol.

Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.

What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?

The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over.

“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”

The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork.

It smelled good.

“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”

The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.

“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”

Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.

He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips.

It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.

It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.

Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.

“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”

Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.

“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.

Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips.

“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”

“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.

“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin.

“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low.

“I could do without the latter.”

“You wound me, sweet damsel.”

He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.

“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.

Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.

“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”

“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”

He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.

“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”

Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like.

“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.

“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”

Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough.

“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”

Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing.

“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.

“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”

Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand.

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice.

When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand.

“The ocean makes me feel better too.”

His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you.

Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.

Ignoring him did not make him go away.

“What do you want?”

“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”

“Take me home.”

“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”

Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.

His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.

“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”

Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat.

“Of course, let me take you now.”

The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island.

Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters.

“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”

He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.

“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”

This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours.

“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”

The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek.

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 2

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics

330 notes · View notes

badasgirl · 8 months

Text

i’ll always cheer for you

bada lee x fem!reader

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what happens when the basketball team captain and the cheer team co-captain are in love but can’t tell anyone…

genre: fluff, minor angst (my bad), slightly suggestive if you squint (?)

warnings: reader and bada are both lesbians, slightly suggestive with a veryyy tiny makeout scene but nothing too crazy, no caps on purpose (booo ik terrible grammar).

author’s note: this was not proofread nor do i know much about basketball so please be easy on me. anyways, yayyy my first req done, thank you to @badasgirlfriend for being my first request!! this was supposed to be a quick lil imagine but i got a bit carried away 🧎‍♀️…BUT i hope this was good :3 btw reqs are still open!

word count: ~1.8k….

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you and bada lee were captains of your respective sports at your university: cheerleading and basketball, granted you were a co-captain along with another girl named lusher, you were a captain nonetheless. becoming captains by your sophomore year meant you both had insane leadership skills and were talented in your fields. naturally, you both were drawn to each other and became the bestest of friends during your first year of leadership.

however it’s now your senior year and y’all are a little more than friends. last year one night after a game, both the basketball and the cheerleading team went out for expensive bbq to celebrate the win the basketball team brought home. the whole night bada kept clinging to you. she was cooking your meat, making little lettuce wraps for you, and feeding you everything. it got to the point everyone had just assumed you were already dating.

“bro when did you start dating? i cant believe i wasn’t updated.” lusher said in a jokingly hurt voice as she dramatically placed her hand over her heart to feign sadness.

“yeah i thought we were close y/n!” tatter, another cheerleader, said while pretending to cry into her fellow teammate’s, minah’s, shoulder.

you giggled softly while shaking your head at their actions. “guys please! we’re not dating, bada’s just my best friend, right honey?” you said as you turned to look at bada.

bada felt her heart twinge slightly at hearing the words “best friend”, but she quickly nodded in agreement before smiling at you and saying “right honey.”

“me personally y/n, i’d be asking bada what are we!” jj, a fellow basketball team member, joked as she stuffed her face with food.

“best friends…sure” aiki, another basketball player, replied sarcastically before chucking and saying “i don’t call my best friend honey, but yeah! for sure besties!”

everyone at the table laughs at aiki’s and jj’s comments, including you and bada. however, bada knew that night she had to confess to you. she could no longer fight her feelings for you, she wanted to kiss you and hold you close in her arms until you both fell asleep. so, she told you exactly that. you both being lesbians who are in denial of their feelings course led to reciprocated feelings neither knew about. all that mattered now was you were hers and she was yours.

───────────────────────────────────

now back to current time, you’re both seniors and it’s been a little over a year since you and bada began dating. you both became closer than ever. you did everything together, no one could separate y’all from each other. however, no one knew the truth. your relationship was kept a secret because you both decided for the sake of your sports and reputations as captains that no one could know. you both took leading a team so seriously, that neither of you wanted to have anyone think you guys were slacking off due to being in a relationship. so of course this lead to its own issues.

people would ask both of you out on dates constantly (especially you) and although you both would pay zero attention to these people, it bothered the other. bada especially hated it when men would ask you out no matter how many times you told them you were a lesbian. she wanted to scream to the world that she was your girlfriend and everyone else can fuck off, but she couldn’t.

one day it bothered her so much that some man named jongin asked you out to dinner that she couldn’t even bear to look at you because while yes she was jealous other people perceiving her girlfriend, she was even more upset she couldn’t tell these people off for you. she didn’t answer your texts, she didn’t walk you to class like usual, hell she didn’t even wave back when you waved at her in the halls. she had ignored you all day up until she saw you crying and hugging tatter in the hallway near the entrance of the building. bada immediately ran up to both of you and asked why you were crying. tatter shook her head in confusion before explaining that you just began crying once she asked about your day. bada sighed deeply and told tatter to let her handle it. tatter was skeptical at first but eventually agreed as she slowly pulled you off of her. she patted your head before leaving and let you know that she’ll text you later. once it was just you and bada, you hung your head lowly while trying to hide your sniffles. bada placed her hands on your shoulders while leaning down slightly to match your height.

“princess, what’s the matter?” bada asked softly with her voice full of concern. you looked up at her with tears streaming down your face, her heart broke on the spot. bada hated seeing you upset, she only ever wanted you to be happy.

you eventually replied through your sniffles. “why do you hate me now? is it something i did? why are you acting like i don’t exist…” you trailed off beginning to cry harder.

immediately bada’s heart broke again, she hated you being upset, but she hated you being upset because of her even more. she herself began to tear up as she pulled you into her arms and held you tightly. she soothingly rubbed your back, letting you cry into her.

“i’m so so sorry princess, i never meant to upset you. it’s just the thing with jongin bothered me so much and the fact i couldn’t do anything…” bada explained through her own tears now. you looked up at her in understanding before wrapping your arms even tighter around her, clinging to her as if she would disappear.

“i understand baby, but next time please just talk to me. i hate feeling this way, i hate us crying over misunderstandings.” you explained as you began to calm down. you pulled away from bada but then placed her hands in yours.

she looked you in your eyes, nodding in agreement before she replied with “i promise i will. let’s never cry over a MAN again.” she emphasized ‘man’ before laughing attempting to lighten the mood. you began to laugh with her while smiling up at her. god, you were so in love with this girl. nothing will ever stop your love for her.

“we should get going, practice starts soon and you know friday is the game that determines if the team goes to finals or not.” you said seriously as you began to get in your leader mindset. bada agreed with you and you both went off to practice for the very important upcoming game.

───────────────────────────────────

it was finally d-day. one of the most important games of the season began as the buzzer rang throughout the court. the basketball team was working so hard to keep the score high, needing to bag the win. the cheer team was working just as hard on the side lines making sure the basketball team could feel enough love and support to have the strength and energy to keep pushing through this game. you, lusher, tatter, minah, and the rest of the cheerleaders were screaming so loud that your throats were feeling raw. seeing bada in her element made you fall for her all over again. bada was flying across the court so naturally and with ease, scoring point after point for her team. she was constantly blocking shots from one of her opponents haechi wang. however, the opposing team was not weak. for every shot bada blocked, one was scored almost immediately after.

it was now the final 30 seconds of the game, the score was 57:57. aiki had the ball as the buzzer went off and she immediately began to dribble it. bada made the sign that she was open to aiki, she knew it had to be her who made this final shot for her team to bring them their victory. aiki saw bada and immediately made the pass. once shs got the ball, she was off. she didn’t want to let her team down, so she knew she had to put in all the effort she could. it was down to 15 seconds on the timer and bada was exactly where she needed to be to make her shot. however, she started to get nervous and overthink. but before her thoughts could take over, bada managed to hear her girlfriend from across the court yell, she heard you yell “LET’S GO BADA LEE YOU GOT THIS!”. nothing else mattered once she heard your voice. she blocked out everything except for your voice and the hoop. bada took her shot and right as the buzzer sounded, the ball went in the hoop. she had gotten a buzzer beater and scored the win for her team. it didn’t even click for her that they had won until she saw you running across the court towards her. bada smiled as you ran into her arms. she lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around her waist.

you were filled with so much happiness and pride you didn’t care anymore. right as you looked into each other’s eyes, you kissed her passionately. bada questioned absolutely nothing as she kissed you right back with just as much passion, borderline making out with you on the court. cheers from the crowd, both basketball teams, and your cheer team could be heard as all attention was now on both of you.

once you pulled away from bada’s lips, you immediately shouted out to everyone “MY GIRLFRIEND IS GOING TO NATIONALS!” bada couldn’t help but smile and giggle at your actions. the world now knew that you were dating. you could hear everyone laugh along in happiness as many people clapped for you.

“what did i sayyyy!” lusher exclaimed to her team as they all smiled and agreed.

“yo hyojin you owe me $10, i told you so” aiki said to her teammate as she held out her palm waiting for her payment.

both you and bada laughed at everyone’s actions. you both held each other close in a current state of bliss. in the end, who gives a fuck if others think you’re slacking off. you both know it’s not true and that’s all that matters.

“hey bada” you whispered to your girlfriend, still holding her close.

“yes my princess?” bada responded, her voice dripping with sweetness.

you smiled brightly as you looked into her eyes and said “just know that no matter what, i’ll always cheer for you.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────

thank you so much for reading ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ - lila

#bada lee #bada lee fluff #bada lee angst #bada x reader #bada lee x reader #bada fluff #bada angst #bada imagine #bada lee imagine #gxg #gxg fluff #gxg angst #swf 2 #swf2 #bada #gxg imagine #gxg scenarios

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angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

brute

abby anderson x reader

cw : hockey!abby , cheerleader!reader , modern!au , m*n , bigotry , usage of slurs ( fag ) , incel , alluded frat tactics ( roof*es ) , violence .

wc : 2.4K

a / n : if you see any grammatical issues , SQUINT , ive never proofread a single thing in my entire life

You shuffled into your seat, letting your bag drop onto the floor next to your feet. It was pretty quiet in the rink, the soft sound of chattering coming from the locker rooms as you settled in– fishing around in your stuff for your laptop. It was a slow day for you, only a couple classes worth of homework to complete, so you’d decided to tag along with Abby to practice for a show while you fought your calculus assignments. Since it was the start of the season, new kids had been brought onto the team which made a ton of sense as a gaggle of 19 year olds raced down the aisles toward the ice– just barely missing your water bottle. “Jeez.” You huffed, pulling your stuff further from the walkway, not willing to risk the ridiculously expensive tumbler Abby had gotten you.

It wasn’t unusual for you to accompany her, seeing as the rink was like a second home to you, the team not minding for the most part– Abby had joked before that the judgment of a pretty girl whipped them more into shape, their plays being better when you were around compared to when you werent.

Abby was beyond annoyed already, following behind the newbies with a scowl. This was the worst part of a new season, given that these kids didn’t know the ways of the team, not that she fully blamed them. She just hated the prospect of dealing with multiple egotistical freshmen in such a small place, their voices managing to carry throughout the entire rink. She held her skates close to her side, nudging the rink door open with the tip of her toes, settling onto one of the benches to finish gearing up for practice. Her nerves were already shot, having the captain of the men's team call up to the rink saying that he’d managed to get sick– meaning she’d be taking on both teams for drills. She’d debated calling the whole thing off, not wanting a repeat of the fiasco last year.

“You gonna make it?” A voice called from behind her, making her crane her neck as she shoved her feet into the skates, the owner of said voice making her roll her eyes. Nora and Mel were walking together just a ways behind her, sliding into the box before the door shut, their helmets and skates hitting the floor as they sat on either side of the girl. “How much do you wanna bet she bites one of their heads off before practice ends?” The two girls had a habit of betting on her downfall and whilst she knew it was all in good fun, seeing as they held some responsibility as co-captains, it still made her heart jump.

The blonde clicked her tongue against her teeth, shaking her head. “Don’t start this again.”

Mel laughed, glancing down to mess with the strap on her gloves. “I got fifty on it being that guy,” She began, using her head to nod towards a dark haired guy on the ice. He was laughing loud enough to fill the entire rink, the sound piercing her ears as she shook her head slightly. “That might end up being me though, super annoying.”

Abby chuckled, easing the helmet over her braid, making sure to tuck the end into the back of her jersey. “He is really annoying, I think that’s the same guy that transferred from UW.” She added, “I heard he made a big deal out of practicing co-ed.” She slid her gloves over her chilly fingers, eying the boy for a second before bringing her gaze up to the benches around the rink– like she always did, searching for you. It didn’t take long, seeing as you always sat in the same place, her heart squeezing slightly at the sight. You were cross-legged on the bench, her massive varsity jacket swallowing you whole as you tapped away on your computer– a frown etched into your sweet face. She knew how much you hated math, so it didn’t take her long to figure out what you were doing, a smile tugging at her lips as she tore her eyes from you.

“Let's hope he behaves, hm?” Nora sighed, pulling open the second door to step out onto the ice– holding it open for the other two. “If not, god, I don’t even wanna know.”

The girl nodded, standing up as she double checked her mouth guard. It was especially cold, as she made her way onto the ice, a chill biting at her exposed cheeks. Her time away from the sport had reflected on her temperature gauge more than anything, making her shudder slightly. “Is everyone here?” She spoke up, coming to a stop in the middle of the rink, tapping her skate slightly on the ice. It was a habit she’d managed to pick up from you, seeing as you prefaced all of your jumps with the tinestest of taps, she carried it like a piece of you on every rink she played on.

One of the boys shrugged, looking to the group behind him before nodding out of the rink, trading her attention for another. Their conversations were low and muffled, only a stray chortle echoing as they found a way to quiet down. She was equally grateful and annoyed.

Abby brushed it off, doing a quick headcount as she tried to figure out how many they’d be down, her patience wearing even thinner as she tried to focus over the bickering from the group in front of her. They had a nasty habit of not coexisting on the best terms, their compliance contractual. She dropped her attention from the teams as she saw Nora waving from the side, her feet propelling her forward to meet the girl in the middle– fingers still toying with the thick mouthguard in her hand. “What’s up?” It was unlike Nora to look so nervous, setting her brow into a downturn as she bent slightly to level with the girl. “Nora, what is it?”

“We might have a problem, I'm not sure, but it definitely sounds like a problem.”

You groaned as you snapped the computer shut, moving your now free hand to rub your temple, there was nothing less enthusing than math. The worksheets you’d been assigned were incomplete, and you only figured that out once you were pretty much done, so all of your work was for nothing– seeing as when you checked your email an entirely new set had been assigned. It was enough to make you want to drop out, the prospect of doing anymore work sending a pang into your head. You shoved the laptop back into its sleeve before tucking it back into your bag, leaning back to rest against the row of seats just above you. You pulled your wrist up to hover above you, eyes locking onto the time. You made a small noise of confusion, sitting up on your elbows to look into the rink– they all were just standing around, Abby and Nora tucked away near the middle with their backs turned to you. They should’ve already started by now.

“Weird.” You muttered, to no one but yourself, as you picked yourself up off of the bench. You grabbed your phone from your stuff and tucked it into your oversized pocket, stepping down the rows until you were right in front of the plexi-glass– breath creating a thick haze on the chilled material. You settled into one of the rink-side seats, just simply glazing over the players before your attention was caught by a couple freshmen. They were standing just outside of a group, their conversation too far for you to hear, but their stares were hard to miss. It made your stomach churn, prompting you to sink lower into your seat as you pulled your phone out to distract yourself. You weren’t not used to men staring, it was just something that came with being a girl, though you could seem to shake the feeling of dread that had lit in your stomach as you scrolled mindlessly through your feed.

Abby’s heart was pounding in her chest, mouth set into a harsh line as she followed Nora’s hushed whispers. Internally, there were alot of things she’d considered doing. Externally, she kept her feet steady on the ice. She had to give him a chance, right? There was some underlying theme of second chances at play, there had to be– but from the grim expression on Nora’s face, she doubted it. The blood had begun to rush to her head, a loud beating in her ears pulling her from the conversation at hand, hand coming up to stop the girl in front of her. “Let me handle this–,” She began, being cut off promptly.

“You can’t hit him, Abby.” The girl sighed, crossing her arms over her stomach as she glanced warily between the boy and Abby. “He’s just a freshman, just go– I dunno, knock him down a peg.”

She nodded, pulling her helmet off and handing it over to Nora. “I won’t hit him, promise.” She toyed with the straps on her gloves for a moment before, also, pulling them off and tucking them into her now empty helmet. While, yes, she had no real plans to hit him– she wasn’t ruling it out. Her feet dug into the ice, pushing off into his direction, a thousand different approaches coming to mind. She couldn’t deny the anger she felt, some of the comments Nora repeated making her nauseous, though in some fucked way– that’s just the way the wold had come to be. Boys said things about you more often than not, they always had innocent intent though– something these seemed to be lacking in their grotesque banter. Abby wasn’t one to let things like this slide, everyone knew that.

Everyone but them, as they missed her overwhelming presence behind them– still snickering behind locked arms. “The things I'd do to get her, I mean come on! Look at her.” The blonde spoke, nudging the brunette with his elbow.

“I know, I know. Imagine finding her at a frat party, I’d like to get her a drink– if you catch my drift.”

Abby’s jaw tensed, a heavy hand coming to lock onto the boy's shoulder. With ease, she spun him around on his skates, his lanky frame wobbling from the sudden change in motion. “Don’t speak. I don’t care what you’re getting at or what your excuse is. That girl you’re talking about isn’t available, nor would she be interested, not that it seems you’d care. Keep your rapist comments to yourself or find the door.” Her voice was low, fingers now digging into the clothed flesh of his shoulder, face a couple shades paler from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She wanted to hit him, god so bad, but she resisted– her resolve holding for the moment being. There was nothing she hated more than the audacity of men, her spine straightening as she stood to her full height– peering down at him, hoping that he would catch her drift and fuck off.

The brunette snorted, shrugging her hold off with a cocky smile, other boy suddenly uninterested in ‘locker room’ talk. He shook his head, throwing up his hands in a mock gesture. “You feminists and calling all men ‘rapists’, you’re the real problem with society.” He jeered, looking around as if someone else would agree with him. “That girl isn’t even your problem, so why do you care?”

An incredulous smile graced her lips as she let her arms come to rest intertwined against her tense stomach, nodding slowly. “‘That girl’ as you call her, is my business. You see that jacket she’s wearing?” She asked, taking a tiny step forward. “It’s mine. She’s mine.” It was clear, to anyone who had begun to tune into the conversation, that the last piece of self-control she had was breaking. She was pretty good about keeping her cool, usually, seeing as she wasn’t banned from the rink yet– but the look on his face made her rage double, making violence seem like the better option than just letting him go with a warning.

“Oh, I get it. You’re a fag–,”

You’d come out of your seat, phone angled towards the rink with the intention to snap a couple of pictures of Abby. It was something you’d taken to doing during games, a folder now dedicated in your phone to the candids. You clicked the button to snap the picture, instead hovering too long and starting up a video, making you groan slightly before peering into the screen for a moment– seeing the moment Abby’s fist collided with the boy's nose, a sickening crack filling the rink. ”Oh my god.” You breathed, glancing around to the observing parties– seeing them do next to nothing to stop the brawl.

The boy managed to hit her once before becoming subdued by the girl, subdued meaning crumpled onto the ice in the fetal position, his hands now clasping the crooked bone protruding from the flesh. His friends had knelt down around him, hands poking around at his face in attempts to help. “You fucking bitch!” He groaned, blood leaking down his hands and seeping into the fabric of his uniform.

“Yeah, I’m the bitch.” Abby sneered, tongue gliding over her teeth before she spat a mouth full of blood onto the ice beside him. “You’re off the team. Don’t bother coming back.” She hummed, turning on her heel to glide towards the door closest to her– your petrified face coming into view as she did so. “Practice is canceled. Go home.” She said finally, pulling the door open.

You stared up at her, mouth opening and closing for a second before you settled on a question. “What happened?”

The blonde glanced back behind her, the eyes of the team lingering on her, before she dipped down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. The contrast between her bloody lips and the soft cushion of her hand coming to rest on the back of your head was dizzying– but you didn’t complain, the metallic taste seeping into your mouth as you chased her lips. When she finally managed to pull away, there was a smear of blood on the flesh of your bottom lip– making her chuckle.

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

#hockey!abby #hockey!au #hockey!abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abbyanderson #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us fanfic #the last of us #tlou hbo #hockey abby my beloved

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gallusrostromegalus · 10 months

Note

Ask game: 39, 39, 39, 39, oh and also 39

Blease give me more of your writing your brain weirdness is extremely satisfying to my brain weirdness in a way that few others understand or can replicate

Immediately after the battle with Aizen, in what's left of Fake Karakura:

Something neon pink appeared at Shinji's elbow At Speed and he startled, yelping loudly and having to fight the reflex to kick what appeared to be a small girl.

"HeyifyouseemydadIwaswiththefallbacktimethewholetimeokay?" She spoke at a speed Shinji had only ever heard from a dangerously overcaffienated Mashiro before.

"I'm not lying for you, Kusajishi." sighed Kuchiki.

"YACHIRU!" someone bellowed loud enough to make the few unbroken windows ring, and Shinji turned to the sound of Ominous Jingling to see a giant of a man with a peculiar vertical hairstyle and a captain's Haori approaching, livid.

"Shit." She muttered, turning to grin sheepishly at her father as he stomped over, expression dark and a tiny, teal-haired toddler on his hip.

"Where were you supposed to be today?" The Giant growled down at Yachiru, and Kuchiki excused himself to sit down on a nearby piece of bench-height rubble.

"...You told me to stay with the fallback team in Seireitei." She sighed.

"So why are you here?" the giant growled.

"BECAUSE YOU'VE BEEN WEIRD ALL MONTH AND IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU IN LAS NOCHES I'D NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF!" She shouted, reflexive foot-stomp blasting out a wave of enraged reiatsu.

"So, uh, who're Pinky and Punky here?" Shinji asked, limping over to sit down to watch next to Kuchiki.

"Eleventh Division Captain Zaraki Kenpachi and his daughter, Yachiru Kusajishi." Kuchiki nodded. "They're loud, but honorable and reliable."

"I'VE BEEN WEIRD ALL MONTH BECAUSE- Shit, it's- Its complicated, okay?" Kenpachi groaned.

"And the other girl?" Shinji asked.

"I believe Kurosaki said her name was 'Nel' or similar." Kuchiki nodded. "Not entirely sure why Zaraki is the one carrying her around but it's nothing to worry about. He's great with kids."

"SINCE WHEN HAS 'COMPLICATED' BEEN A REASON TO HIDE STUFF FROM ME?" Yachiru demanded, bristling at him.

"Great with kids, huh?" Shinji glanced over at Kuchiki.

"-BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON EITHER UNTIL ABOUT TWO HOURS AGO! WHAT IF SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED TO YOU, HUH? IT'S *MY* JOB TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND DAMMIT!"

"Oh, nevermind, I see what you mean." Shinji nodded and there was the barest hint of a smirk on Kuchiki's face.

Yachiru sniffled, tearing up with rage. "WHAT? I'M NOT ALLOWED TO WORRY ABOUT YOU!?"

"YOU CAN WORRY ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU CAN'T RISK YOUR HIDE FOR MY SAKE, THAT'S NOT HOW IT FUCKING WORKS-!" he roared, jabbing his finger at Yachiru.

"Can I have a juice?" the teal-haired toddler asked from Zaraki's hip.

"-In a minute Yachiru, I need to-" Kenpachi started and stopped. He blinked a few times, then slowly turned to frown at Nel, then at Yachiru, then back at Nel, pointing between the two girls and expression shifting from rage to utter confusion.

"Did you see another abandoned baby and just pick it up because it was Yachiru-shaped and Neon Colored?" Kuchiki called, teasing.

Kenpachi looked up at him, bewildered "MAYBE??" and Yachiru rolled her eyes behind him.

"That’s the most 'Raised By Birds' thing you’ve done in a while." Kuchiki laughed, getting up to peer down at Nel with curiosity.

"Raised by WHAT?" Shinji asked, jogging up after him.

Kenpachi Stood up straight, shaking his shoulders like he was ruffling feathers. "One, I’m not putting her back, two, who the fuck are these assholes?" He asked, gesturing at Shinji and the other Visored who had started to gather in the rubble to catch their breath after the battle.

"Remember how half the captains had fallen in battle or otherwise vanished before you showed up?" Byakuya asked.

"No, because I wasn’t there." Huffed Kenpachi, rifling through his Kosode and producing a Juice Box for Nel. "-but I remember Ikkaku complaining about the employee turnover."

"-AND I WAS RIGHT!" Ikkaku bellowed from his stretcher behind them, too injured to stand but not about to stop fighting, as expected of someone wearing the 11th Division's lieutenant insignia.

"YOU'RE STILL IN DEEP SHIT FOR THAT BANKAI THING, CUEBALL." Zaraki holled back at his lieutenant, who only turned his head away, sulking.

"Apparently the assorted missing officers weren’t dead, they just caught an artificially induced case of hollowfication from Aizen, but managed to survive and stayed out here in the living world to recover and learn to control their abilities out of sight from him." Kuchiki explained. Beside them, meaningful eye contact was exchanged between father and daughter, and he gave her a juice box as well. "Tactical." Zaraki nodded approvingly. "Also, non-zero chance The Old Man would have killed y'all on sight."

"Er. Yeah." Shinji winced, looking over his shoulder to where a surprisingly non-apocalyptic-looking Captain-General was discussing something with Unohana.

"This man specifically is is Hirako Shinji, Aizen’s former boss." Kuchiki continued, introducing them properly. "Captain Hirako, Captain Zaraki."

"Hiya!" Shinji grinned, holding out a hand for Zaraki to shake, but instead, he too was handed a juice box.

Kenpachi eyed Shinji in a not precisely hostile but still unnerving manner, as he offered Kuchiki a juice box as well and when turned down, opened it for himself and drank, studying him.

"…This explains six or seven things." Zaraki finally spoke, nodding sagely.

Shinji glared up at the giant. "Excuse me?"

Kuchiki waved a hand between Shinji and Zaraki. "I promise, it’s technically a compliment."

"Yeah, if Ken-chan didn't like you, you wouldn't have a head right now." Yachiru giggled.

"Mostly explains the two sets of teaspoons in the 5th division break room." Zaraki nodded, holding his hands out to his sides. "You're, whatsit- tiger-tiger thing?"

"Huh?" Puzzled Shinji.

"Symmetry?" Tried Kuchiki. "I do recall Captain Hirako having immense talent with mirroring and reversing text and other things."

"That's the bitch!" Zaraki grinned. "Not a bad idea though, you always have enough spoons."

"Huh. I guess so?" Shinji pondered, eyeballing Zaraki in turn. "Kenpachi, so you're captain of the 11th? If I remember correctly, Kiganjo was the tenth Kenpachi- so how many Kenpachis did we run through while I was away?"

"Just him for the last century. Only the two serious challenges to his post." Kuchiki explained, looking almost... proud? There were strange political currents swirling here, leaving Shinji feeling adrift.

"For real?" Shinji asked with genuine admiration. Outside of statistical outliers like Unohana and The Old Man, it was rare for a captain to hold their post for more than two centuries, and the average in the 11th more like 60 years.

Kenpachi waved his hand noncommitally. "One and a half. Tetsuzaimon Iba was really challenging his Mother by proxy." he corrected, head tilting with a jingle and Shinji realized the vertiginous hairstyle was there to support a dozen or so small bells, before the rest of the sentence caught up with him.

"Tetsuzaimon?" Shinji blinked. "Wasn't that what Chikane Iba was going to call her son?

"Yah." Zaraki nodded, sounding like a sleigh full of presents.

Shinji stared blankly. "But- but- She was still pregnant when I.. left? He’s an infant!

"Nah, Lieutenant Iba's a whole-ass man now." Zaraki looked over his shoulder. "Ay Iba-" he called to a robust man with sunglasses wearing the 7th Division's lieutenant's badge, currently engaged in picking up Ikkaku and moving him out of the way for the 4th division triage. "-How come you're spotless when my vice looks like someone fucked up at the abattoir?"

"Hi Captain Zaraki!" Iba waved back, , Ikkaku slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "It's because he's a fucking idiot, sir!"

"FUCK YOU!" Ikkaku shrieked, flipping them off from where he hung awkwardly over his friend's shoulder.

"FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" Zaraki bellowed back.

Shinji watched the spectacle with wide eyes, slowly coming to an unpleasant realization, before slowly putting a hand on Kuchiki’s shoulder. "…Sojun." He sighed, using his colleauges given name with heavy morose. "I’m afraid we may be Old Men now."

Kuchiki turned and blinked at him, confused. "I’m Byakuya."

It was Shinji's turn to stare in confusion. "...Kuchiki Byakuya isn't even in the Academy yet?"

"No, I'm a captain now. Sojun, my father, died shortly after your disappearance." Apparently-Byakuya explained, arching a concerned eyebrow down at him.

"Fucking what." Shinji said flatly, feeling like he'd been drained of all color and redrawn with a sharpie by someone's off-hand.

"HAH!" Barked Zaraki. "Yer Old Fart, Tiger."

Byakuya scoffed up at Zaraki. "What’s that make you then?"

"An Ancient and Revered Relic, thank you." Kenpachi said, puffing up his chest in mock-pride.

"What's going on?" Nel asked Yachiru in a loud whisper.

"Bowlcut here is an old fart who is just now realizing that he's an old fart, but he’s younger than me, so he’s also a baby." Yachiru explained. "Either way, impressive bowel control for his age!"

"HEY!" Yelped Shinji.

"Drink ya Battle Victory juice, Tiger." Zaraki said, giving Shinji a consoling pat on the shoulder.

"...It's a bitter Juicy Juice I drink this day." Shinji sighed, disconsolately stabbing the box with the straw and drinking with despair.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #fanfic writer ask game #zaraki kenpachi #shinji hirako #byakuya kuchiki #yachiru kusajishi #nelliel tu odelschwanck #long post #it's funny under the cut I promise #I love subjecting shinji to conversations that are like being hit with multiple baseball bats repeatedly

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last-starry-sky · 1 month

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Simon constantly teases you about how short/small you are. It upsets you, makes you feel singled out, weak, incompetent. Turns out he’s just dying to know how well you can fit him, how big his cock would look next to your hands and feet. Won’t shut up about it during sex either. A dash of mean Simon + his untapped size kink

eeeeee im gonnafuckining explode OKAY FOR REAL I WAS DYING WHEN I SAW THIS. thank u, beautiful, patient anon, for blessing me with this prompt!! I hope I did it justice!

ghost x petite!f!military!reader

(MDNI - NSFW uhhhh grossly inaccurate military stuff, creeper, bully simon :), i’m using “petite” as in “shorter and smaller than the average woman” trying to keep everything as open and vague as possible, oral, deep throating, ghost has a raging size kink, unprotected piv, also this is LONG (5.6k) 💀 i'm sorry!!! skip to the end for smut if that's all you want!❤️)

It’s been the same fucking comments from your lieutenant all week. Day in, day out and it’s starting to wear a sore spot into your hardened skin.

“Muzzle up. Arms tired already? ‘s a big rifle for someone your size to carry.”

“Keep pace with the group. Your short legs aren’t their problem.”

“Shoulders back! Chest out! Some’ve y’ need all the height you can get!”

All you can do is grit out a “yes, sir” or “no, sir” and push yourself even harder to keep up with the taller and stronger men and women around you. The massive Brit in charge is running your training group. While you expected this to be hard (your CO hadn’t been mincing words when he pitched it as “advanced”) but you never expected this.

First of all, from the very beginning, he seemed to have a problem with you. Only you. There were a handful of women in the group, but you were unfortunately the shortest and smallest. Not that it bothered you. You’d spent your whole life this size. You were used to it. It was everyone else, especially the wanna-be, alpha males that flocked to the military like flies, that gave you grief over it.

The second you all lined up off the transport, you could feel his eyes on you. You tried not to stare back while the other Brit, Captain Price, gave a short introductory talk. You hadn’t heard a word of it. He stood there, flanking the captain, in a black, skin tight t shirt, with his obscenely muscled arms crossed over his ridiculously broad chest. A buzzing filled your ears as his black eyes bored into you. His stare so hot and heavy it made you sweat. His eyes were all of his face that he left uncovered, the rest was hidden by a skull mask and balaclava. You tried to ignore him, but you swore you saw the ink on his arm flexing as the captain introduced him: Lt. Ghost.

From the first training exercise, a simple one on one spar, he pulled you of all people from the women’s group to demonstrate on. What could you do? Refuse? He had at least a foot and close to one hundred pounds of muscle on you. You tried not to shake as you squared up at the opposite end of the mat.

He told you to rush him, to “show him what you got”. Well, you tried. Once he gave signal to start, all you could do was try to fake him out. You ran at him before quickly darting to the side, trying to get behind him using your short stature to your advantage. Unfortunately for you, he was crazy agile for a large guy. He pivoted on his foot, watching you as you tried to fade to his left. You steeled yourself when he caged you in his arms, sweeping your feet off the mat. Your world was a blur until he slammed you roughly down onto the mat. Your breath was knocked from you, your vision spinning. You heard the crowd around you let out a collective “OH”. It took you a moment to realize he had you pinned. Your legs and hands held painfully down with his own.

“‘sat all y’ got? Givin’ up already?” he grunted out with a gravely laugh while he stared down at you. He leaned down until his chest was pressed to yours, that stupid mask just grazing your face. “Or y’ got some fight left in y’?

Hell yeah you still had some fight in you. You managed to slip out one leg from under him, jamming your knee quickly into his side. A kidney hit was dirty, you knew that. You wouldn’t dream of doing it in a normal spar, against an evenly matched partner, but he deserved it for picking on you; for picking a woman when he could have easily dominated any of the men in the room. He reacted exactly as you expected: crumpling forward in pain. You didn’t waste a second pulling your hands and legs from his grip. Another cry rang out from the crowd when you rolled out from under him, ready to jump on his back and make the pin.

“Olright, olright,” he said rubbing at his side, sitting up with a grunt before you could pin him. “I yield, y’ cheatin’ lil’ git. Next up.”

He pointed at one of the other soldiers to come forward and take your place. The man gave you a fist bump as you left the mat and you told him “good luck”. You knew he would need it. When you turned around you saw that Ghost’s gaze had never left you.

You walked back to base on Friday with your blood boiling, failure weighing heavy on your psyche after a long, hot afternoon of sniper training. You had given all you could; had put up with extra hard, extra long training, with comment after comment about your size and strength.

Shorty. Shrimp. Rifle looks like it weights more than you. Gonna manage that?

Up early, in late everyday, almost too tired to eat and shower by the end. You had a mind to march right into Price’s office and tell him you were leaving that night. You’d made it a week, that was good enough for you. You would rather face hell from your CO back home than endure another hour of this. The second you sat down on your bunk, however, you passed out.

The exhaustion must have snapped something in your brain. You woke up a few hours later groggy and sweaty, your bunk mate snoring away. You were half on your bed with your feet still in your boots. You rolled onto your back with a groan, wiping the dried tears and dust from your cheeks.

You let your weak arms fall over your face. You felt pathetic. You honestly wanted to just lay on your thin mattress and cry in the dark until the day started. Another day of enduring that British cunt with a superiority complex calling you short and weak, of singling you out in front of your peers, of making you question your career up to this point. He was eroding the very core of your person at this point, and you didn’t know how much long you could take it.

You let out a sigh and, with more than a little effort, pull your sore, battered body out of bed. What you really needed was to shower, to think this out, and then find Captain Price to talk. No good would come from rushing into a decision in this state.

You enjoyed your shower. It was nice to have all of the hot water and the whole communal space to yourself. You took your time getting dressed back into your rumbled clothes in the empty locker room. Nothing but the sound of dripping water echoing off the tile around you.

Leaving the showers, you looked up and down the bare corridors, only enough of the overhead fluorescents left on to avoid a safety hazard. Your hair dripped onto your shoulders while you stood in the center of the hall. Price’s office had to be somewhere around here.

You wandered out of the barracks, down hall after hall of the same, painted block walls and plain tile floors, until you started seeing name plates posted haphazardly on the wooden doors. Your eyes wandered from door to door until you found what you were looking for: a sheet of 8.5x11 paper taped crookedly outside an office with Cpt. Price scrawled across the middle.

You let out a sigh of relief as you brought up your hand to knock on the door. It was almost over. The captain seemed like a reasonable man. He would surely be willing to listen to you, maybe give you some sound advice on whether you were actually cut out for this level of training. Before your hand could land on the door, a gloved hand came out from the shadows of the hall in front of you to rest above yours.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he whispered harshly.

You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You closed your eyes in annoyance, balling your hands at your sides. Of fucking course he was here. Right at the last hurdle. Right before you could seek relief from a superior, his superior too. You let out a long breath through your nose before you opened your eyes to face him.

“I came to talk to Captain-” you started speaking with a wavering voice before he cut you off.

“Not in. Not yet, at least. Had a long night.”

He leaned against the door, starting down at you again. God, he fucking annoyed you. You’d never had a CO that frayed at your nerves like he did. How dare he come off so cool, gripping his oversized biceps with his stupid skeleton gloves.

You stepped back from the door. “I’ll come back when he’s in then. Sorry-”

“Can help you if you need somethin’” he interrupted you again, casually canting his hips forward, moving his hand to the door handle.

You shook you head. While you really wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you would prefer not ending this with a disciplinary, so you bit your tongue.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you answered with just a bit of venom.

He heard it, you were sure of it. He clicked the door open, letting it fall open to reveal the dark room inside.

“No. I think you do, small-stuff.” When you didn’t make a move, just let another angry breath out your nose and furrow your brow deeper, he shifted to the side and pointed inside the room. “In. Now. That’s an order.”

You clenched your teeth and did as you were told. Not that you had an option now.

You walked up to the desk at the back of the room. Price sure did keep his office in a state. Papers and folders were piled across his desk. A landline phone and old desktop computer were shoved to either corner of the desk. More folders and binders piled over the keyboard and hid the keypad of the phone. You heard Ghost’s boots squeak lightly on the tile behind you, then the door shut with a click. Another, soft click followed. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the spot right above you with hazy, yellow light.

You turned to face the man who’d gone out of his way to made himself your nemesis for the past week. He silently sauntered up to you, stopping behind one of the chairs in front of the desk. You crossed your arms defensively over your chest and tried to make your face placid while he pulled the chair out. He took a seat, well, he tried too. He could barely fit his massive fame in the little chair. It groaned underneath him as he mirrored your pose, arms crossed and legs spread.

You sat silently staring at each other before he asked, “Well?” with a roll of his shoulders.

You picked over your words, trying to detangle everything you had thought up in the shower. Ghost bouncing his knee pulled you back to reality. It was like the threatening hiss of a rattlesnake's tail. Better to just get it out than keep him waiting.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you squeaked out, eyes on you boots. The direct route it was, then.

“What?” he asked, confused.

You looked up at him, exhausted, eyes pleading. “Look, I know I’m short and not as strong as the other guys . . . especially the guys, but the way you talk to me-”

“Don’t have a problem with y’,” he said throwing his arm across the back of the chair, readjusting while he raked his eyes up and down your frumpy form. Probably looking for something to complain about. “If’m bein’ honest-” he started before cutting himself off and turning his head.

You uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides. “What . . .” you questioned, gesturing with your hands in front of you. “Then why do you-”

He jiggled his knee a few more times before turning back to face you. “Little thing like you,” he said darkly, so deep and low you almost didn’t hear it. He clenched his fingers on his pants as he cleared his throat. “You keep up with the rest’ve ‘em well enough. Ain’t got a problem.”

“Little thing,” you whispered, repeating him sarcastically.

Ghost groaned at that. Honest to god groaned in front of you, sending a shiver up your spine. You froze as his heavy eyes found their way back to you.

“Yeah. You sure are,” he said scraping his fingers down his pants. “Spunky, too. Used t’ fightin’ for your place. Like that. Makes me wonder-” he trailed off as his large eyes wandered down from your face to your chest.

You were shocked. No way. You had to be misinterpreting this. Maybe you were still sunstroked from yesterday, because there was no way you were reading him correctly.

“Wonder what?” you piped, blush pinching at your cheeks.

“Wonder . . .” he said rocking his head back and forth, trying to tie a sentence together. “Wonder if y’ can be sweet, too.” He let you stew in wide-eyed disbelief for a moment as he gestured at you. “Wonder what you look like underneath all that.” Your stomach clenched as he tilted his hips forward, spreading his legs wider, to palm is cock through his pants. “Wonder if it matches what I’ve imagined.”

You would be lying if it was just your stomach clenching after that shameless display.

It was crazy how it all made sense now. The constant attention. The names. You thought he was being overly hard on you, picking at you, trying to get you to drop out. You rubbed a hand over your heated face. He was a grown man (a large one, too) that was acting like a little boy with a worm on a stick, chasing the girl he liked around the playground. You thought he hated you and all this time he was actually getting off to you. You felt like an absolute moron.

“Doesn’t have t’ leave this room. If you’re interested,” he said in that deep gravel, still trying to keep himself together.

You let him sit in silence for a long, tortuous, moment.

“And if I’m not?” you finally asked.

He nodded to the door behind him with his head. “Then leave. Talk t’ Price in the morning. No harm.”

“No foul,” you finished his phrase, running your fingers over your bottom lip.

Silence hung between you for a hot moment in the cold, stale air of the office. You had a hard time believing he would just let you go at this point. Not that you planned to, the danger intrigued you too much to walk away. This line of work had made you a wholly different animal, it’s why you were here. You ran into war zones, battlefields, hostage negotiations, the places others couldn’t run out of fast enough. You’d been dealing with the people that most couldn’t stomach, the ones that couldn’t function in civilian society, for so long that they had worn a place under your skin. This lieutenant, Ghost, he had been in this just as long, if not longer, than you. He had to feel the same. Fuck, he had be worse.

“What . . . what do you want?” you finally managed to ramble out.

He let out a rough hum of satisfaction. You hated how you responded to it. You rolled your thighs together and, fuck, you were wet. You let out a small, shuddering breath. You’d gone a week with no praise, no kindness, and now here he was, the big, bully Brit who’d made your life hell practically purring over you.

He trained his hungry eyes on you and motioned up with a flick of his fingers. “Wanna see ‘em. Don’t even have’t take your shirt off.”

A part of you wondered if this was all a trick as you slowly rucked your t shirt up to expose your stomach. That would track with how your week had gone so far. He was so blatant and open though, gripping the chair beneath him like he was about to launch out of it at a moment’s notice. He groaned as you pulled your shirt up to reveal your plain black sports bra. It was nothing special, standard issue, but it kept you strapped down. Not that you really had all that much to contain.

He ran his hand over (what you assumed) was his mouth under the balaclava. He waited a moment for you to continue before urging you forward.

“Come on, love. Don’t get shy. Wanna see ‘em.”

You slipped your fingers underneath the wide band at the bottom, hesitating only a moment before you pulled everything, shirt included, up over your head. You stared down at your chest while you balled your clothes in your hands.

“Not much to see,” you whispered, watching your nipples perk and skin pucker under the AC.

“Fuckin’ hell” was all he said. You dared to look up. “Fuck,” he continued, “Fuckin’ . . . get over’ere. Just fuckin’ dyin’ t’ get my hands on you.”

You dropped your clothes on the floor, closing the few steps between you quickly before falling forward into his grasp. You weren’t sure if you were ready for what this desperate, mountain of a man was about to unleash on you, but fuck did it excite you. Once he had you between his legs, gloved hands scraping up your back and around your waist, testing his fingers as he held you, but he didn’t do anything but look. He stared at you like you were made of glass.

You stared at him, too. You hadn’t been this close since he’d pinned you on the first day, and you were pretty sure you’d been half-concussed then. You could see where he had eye black painted carefully around his eyes to fill the holes in his mask. You could see his long eyelashes, clumped together with that same oily black paint. It made the whites of his eyes stand out vibrantly. His large dark irises darted back and forth over your chest. You wondered what he was planning, what he was thinking.

He didn’t leave you wondering for long. He pressed you forward, mouthing at your nipple through the mask. You let out a short whine, pussy clenching as his large hands kneaded at your waist. The feeling was like nothing you’d felt before. The fabric between you muted the translation between his actions and your pleasure. You could feel how eagerly he bit and sucked at you, but you were denied half of it. It made you dig your fingers into his shoulders in frustration.

“Want more?” he said haggardly, pulling off of you. He tugged at your belt, not waiting for an answer. “Then get these off.”

You did your best to undo your belt and pants despite your shaking and moaning while he dove back in, working harder at your other nipple. Once you’d dropped your pants down to your ankles he pulled you forward to step out of them, wedging you into the spread of his legs. You toed out of your shoes and then he kicked everything behind you, your boots banging loudly against the steel desk. You heard papers shift and fall, but couldn’t find a reason to care. He held you, running his gloved hands over your exposed skin while you shivered in font of him in nothing but your panties.

He palmed his cock again before fumbling around to find his belt. You heard him click it open, the metal jangling as it went slack.

“On your knees,” he ordered breathlessly. “Wan’ see what that little mouth can do with this.”

You complied immediately, viciously curious as to what he was packing. If the tent in his pants was any indication, you had your work cut out for you. He popped open the button of his fly and then slowly unzipped. You couldn’t see anymore through his briefs than you had in his pants, but still, you leaned forward. You curled your hands on your knees, biting your lip, willing him to give you permission.

“Go ahead,” he said giving himself one lazy, squeezing pump.

You put your hands on his inner thighs, right above his knees, testing the waters. When he didn’t say anything, you slid your hands up his legs, a soft, swishing sound following. You stopped at his crotch, pulling yourself forward before tentatively, gently, smoothing up his clothed cock.

He groaned, covering your hand with his, forcing you to grip his girth. Your thumb just barely met your ring finger.

“Fuckin’-” was all he could get out before pulling your hand off.

He used his other hand to pull his dick out before pressing your hand to his hard, burning length. You gave him another pump, feeling how the skin stretched beneath your hand, then squeezing to feel how goddamn rigid he was. The tip of his cock made your mouth water.

It was crazy. On you knees in front of him like this, you weren’t a competent soldier, a woman who held herself with poise and respect in front of her colleagues. He wasn’t an expertly trained, battle-hardened, special operative of the British Army. You were both human. Both hungry.

You tipped his cock toward you to lap at the underside of the head. You met his eyes just as you closed your mouth around him, sucking the salt from his slit. He shut his eyes with a groan, letting his head fall back for a moment as he reached his hand up to grip at your skull. He opened his eyes to watch as he slowly bobbed your head down his cock.

He gripped himself at the base, forcing your mouth to take him until you met his fingers. You did. Just barely, gagging as his head slid against the roof of your mouth to the soft palate at the back of your throat. He didn’t let you pull back. Instead, he traced the inside of your lips with his thumb, drool coating his black gloves.

“Lookit’ that,” he groaned as your throat pulsed and burned around him. “Little thing takes it all s’fuckin’ well.”

He let go of your head, letting you pull off of his cock. You stared at it with heavy eyes as your head spun from lack of oxygen, it glistened with your spit in the harsh light. He gave himself another languid stroke, watching you force air into your lungs while you sat practically naked on the floor between his knees.

“Think you can take it in that little cunt a’yours like that?” he asked, stopping his stroke at the head.

You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him. You gave him a slow nod. Any fear or paranoia you had before was long evaporated. You were wet, horny, needy. You needed him to give you something, and if he was going to give you a choice, you could do worse than getting railed until you couldn’t remember your name. You clenched, hands clawing at your thighs, as you watched him pump another stroke up that monster cock of his in front of your face before grunting out his order.

“Get up then. Against the desk.”

You scrambled up to your feet. He followed you, rising quickly from his chair to tower over you, pressing you backwards into the steel desk. Your hands reached out for purchase as he roughly gripped your thighs, throwing you on top of Price’s paper-laden desk. Folders and binders clattered to the floor, papers swirling across the tile as he shoved you down, ass right on the edge.

He stood between your legs, hips flush to yours, his cock laying across your standard issue panties like a weapon. He pressed the weight of it against your skin with a groan, head spreading precum into your stomach. Quicker than you realized, he reached behind his back, coming back with a knife. It was almost invisible palmed in his large hand, only the tip of the blade winked from the tip of his thumb. With two quick flicks, he cut up the side of your underwear. He slid the knife back to wherever he had taken it from, like it was the most normal thing in the world, before pulling the now useless scrap of fabric from between the press of your bodies.

He held the scrap of fabric in his hand for a minute, investigating it under the light before tossing it to the floor.

“Really are beggin’ for it, eh?” He said sliding his cock up the seam of your pussy. His easy, fluid movements as he rocked against you answered for you. “Fuckin’ wet just from that?”

You nodded, lacing your legs around his hips, trying to pull him closer. He pressed his hand into your stomach in response, squishing you against the desk hard enough to make you squirm. He pulled away enough to notch the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Needy little fuckin’ thing,” he said with a punch of his hips, nails biting into the soft skin of your stomach as his tip danced perilously on the edge of holding inside you. “Want it so fuckin’ bad? Want this inside y’?”

He took himself in hand and watched as he pushed inside. You both groaned. You let your head fall against the desk with a dull thunk, eyes shut and legs shaking as he pushed deeper and deeper inside your slick hole.

“Fuck.” He was breathless for the first time since you had met him. “Fuck are y’ tight. So fuckin’ small. Even gonna fit it all?” He rambled to himself as he took hold of your hips and watched himself fuck slowly in and out of you; hypnotized by the clutch of your greedy pussy pulling him in, resisting as he pulled out.

You let out a small cry of frustration, tears pricking around your eyes. He was big, but that wasn’t the problem. You had taken your share of dick, you could take him. It was killing you how slow he was. He was lost in his own world, watching his cock slid in and out of you as you lay there silently begging for him to just fuck you already.

“Quiet,” he whispered with a half-hearted harshness, hand trailing down to your pussy.

You almost jumped as he began to rub a wide circle around your clit. Your slick barely dulled the rough texture of his glove. You shuddered, clenching around him, whining as he found a rhythm with his thumb and cock. Your clench punched the breath out of him. He fell over you, bracing himself with his arm. You could hear the hollow sound of his breaths behind his mask as he gave up trying to pump into your vice of a pussy.

He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask against your ear. “Not gonna’ last long doin’ shit like that,” he grumbled. He held himself up, pulling your face to look at him with a hand under your jaw. “Wha’d’y want?”

You stared back at him with confusion.

“Where d’y want it?” he clarified.

If you had a brain cell still functioning, you would have told him to pull out. It was the safer of the options he was giving you.

But you didn’t. You moaned out, “Fuck. Inside me. Please,” like the absolute whore you had become once he’d whipped his cock out.

Not one to question, apparently, Ghost was back in position the moment he heard you. He pulled your hips back to meet his, cock punching all the way in until you winced as the head hit your cervix. He took hold of one of your legs, hand running up the length of it, positioning it until it lay unfolded up his chest. He gripped his fingers around your ankle, starting at it as his other hand squeezed your waist.

“Lookit, fuck. Lookit that,” he said as he pistoned into you. You cut off the loud moan that he punched out of you. The change in angle was . . god it was like nothing you’d had before.

“Like that?” he said, letting your foot dangle on his shoulder while he held your waist with both hands, driving into you mercilessly.

If you could have answered, you would have spoke truthfully. You were sure. You would have moaned about how good it was, how he was so big and filled you so well. As it was, his powerful thrusts jarred you against the cool metal of the desk too much to do anything more than moan and hold on as more papers flooded the floor.

“Got y’self off at all this week?” he asked, panting breathlessly.

You shook your head, a small whine of anticipation falling form your lips at the thought.

“Gonna nut just thinkin’ about you cummin’ on my cock,” he mumbled, trailing his hand back to your clit.

You let out a sad whine, bucking into his thrust as he touched you. You were close. So fucking close.

He began to circle your clit like before, finding that delicious rhythm with the pound of his hips that pulled you higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until dazzling sparks lit up your core. You reeled back with a cry, clenching his cock, arching as he worked you through your peak.

His hand ripped away from you sooner than you’d like. He fell over you, both hands biting into the skin of your hips as he pounded into you as your pussy pulsed, any semblance of cadence or love-making gone as he chased his own high. You dug your fingers into his t shirt. The sweat drenched fabric was almost too slippery to hold on to.

“Fuck! Too fuckin’ hot ‘n, fuck, tight. Fuck, ‘m gonna-” His weak series of sighs and groans, followed by the distinct feeling of his cock flaring inside you told you what he couldn’t.

He lay over you for a moment, panting as you both caught your breaths. You wondered if he was also stewing in the monumental realization of what the fuck you had both just done. You’d just broken so many rules. So much was at stake. He’d just cum inside a subordinate on his bosses desk, and you didn’t work for the same country. This was going to be a mess. You were sure of it.

He pulled away from you, pulling himself out with a smothered whine. You crossed your hands over your middle as you watch him zip back up and adjust his mask. It was wild how he was back to normal within seconds. You half expected him to walk out the door and just leave you here like this. At least all of your clothes were here, save your sliced up panties.

But he didn’t leave. He held out a hand to you, only letting you stare at it dumbly for a minute before he flicked his fingers toward himself, urging you to act. You took his hand and he pulled you up easily. He even let you slump against him after you sat up. You’d forgotten how tired a good lay made you.

Again, you expected him to leave you now that you were conscious and able to dress yourself, maybe leave you with a heavy warning (read: threat) to not talk about this. As you tried to shuffle to the side to try and get off the desk, he stopped you. His hands gripped both of your shoulders suddenly.

“The fuck y’ doin’?” he said, forcing you back in front of him.

“Getting . . . dressed?” you answered with unease.

“Funny,” he said with a single, dry, laugh. “You’re a funny lil’ thing, too.”

His hands skimmed down your sides before quickly seizing you by the hips, throwing you over his shoulder like a backpack. You gasped as your stomach landed on his solid shoulder, punching the air from your lungs.

“Think we’re done already?” he said, turning around.

You watched as the desk, and the messy you had made on and around it, including your scattered clothing, circled back into view, then slipped away. He palmed a whole cheek of your ass in one hand, spreading you open enough for cold air to chill your leaking core, as he stalked toward the door. He probed a finger into your pussy, swirling the cum you felt leaking out across your folds.

“Got a whole day off, y’know,” he said matter-of-factly as he opened the door. Completely ignoring that he had a naked woman slung over his shoulder like a caveman. “Think we should go back to mine. Relax. See what else that little cunt’ve yours can take.”

#mw2 #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #starry writes #asks #anon #now to move on to ch 4 of the graves thing woooo

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aetherdoesthings · 5 months

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Heyyyy, can I request a hurt/comfort with luffy and sanji separately who have a reader whose very cocky when they fight but can usually back it up just not this time. They win, but they like, nearly die trying.

heyyyy anon! one hurt/comfort with luffy and sanji coming right up!

forethoughts: i didn't really proofread because i was on a schedule, so apologies if it turned out not that good.

notes: gn!reader for luffy, fem!reader for sanji

Luffy (gn!reader)

You were a very formidable fighter; that’s why Luffy asked you to join his crew. Maybe you were weaker than Zoro, Jinbe and Sanji, but you could hold your own. You saw fighting as an opportunity to prove your worth, to prove your spot in the Straw Hat Pirates. A chance to have glory.

That’s why you always jumped head first in a battle against marines or other pirates. Most of the time you walked out of the fight with a couple scrapes and bruises, sometimes a broken bone. This time was different.

The Sunny had docked on an island, as everyone desperately needed to be on land for just a bit. However, none of you was aware of the battalion of marines that swarmed this one island. The moment Nami spotted a man wearing a white vest and cap, blue pants and holding a rifle, all the Straw Hats were on high alert. Sanji, Franky, Nami, Robin and Chopper went back first, seeing that they were carrying supplies and materials. Likewise how Nami spotted the marines, the marines spotted you. Clenching your fists, you sprinted towards one of the marines, knocking him out. Several pointed their guns at you, but you weren’t concerned. Before any of the bullets could hit you, a flash of red covered your body, the sounds of multiple marines screaming telling you that you were safe. The flash of red slowly morphed back into the shape of your captain, who smiled widely at you.

“That was a close one, Y/N! Come on! Let’s defeat them and go back to the Sunny!” With his devil fruit, he swung off into the distance, defeating marines left and right. Every other Straw Hat had their own hoard of marines to fight as well, using their powers to fight them off. Pretty soon, a hoard of marines started to swarm you too. You successfully fight off the first few waves, but the more marines you knock out, the more start to appear. Your strength and speed starts to falter, as the marines start to take more punches and jabs at you. Somewhere in the distance you could hear a cry, but with the kicks to your head, everything was just foggy.

Consciousness started to kick in when you realized you were in a completely new environment. You were in Chopper’s office, lying down on one of his beds. Your entire body was numb; it hurt to even move your head. Tilting your head to the side, you realize Luffy was sitting on a chair next to your bed, looking at you with a frown.

“Luffy…?” You croak. “What… happened?”

“You nearly died, Y/N. A bunch of marines were kicking and punching and shooting you. Don’t ask me what happened.” Luffy said.

“Oh..” You look at him, his frown even more visible. “Are you… mad at me for losing? I’m sorry…”

Luffy frowned even more. “You’re lucky Nami and Chopper banned me from hitting you. I’m not mad at you for losing, Y/N. You always rush out so recklessly in a fight without any plan, and sometimes you almost die. I don’t mention it because you always win, but this time you didn’t. I’m not worried if you lose a fight. I’m worried that you won’t be here for the next fight. I like you, Y/N. I don’t want you to die recklessly in a fight. You’re fun to have around on board. Next time, go easy on yourself. If you need help, just ask for help. There’s a lot of people here that’s willing to fight for you.”

Sanji (fem!reader)

You loved to fight. You got to prove to yourself and to others that you can fight, and will fuck anyone up if you wanted to. That’s why Sanji fell in love with you the moment Luffy asked you to join the Straw Hats. Not only because you were a girl, but because you were a girl that could hold her own at any given point, maybe even being stronger than Sanji.

But on some days you weren’t as strong.

During one of the fights against some marines who decided to ambush you, you were quickly overwhelmed and didn’t have enough time to react, forcing you to fight defensively as long as you could before help came. You managed to hold the marines off for a bit, the sound of Sanji’s distant cry bringing a sense of comfort to you. But he wasn’t fast enough, as the marines got to you first, firing three rounds into your weak body and beating you up until you were a bloody pulp, unconscious and on the brink of death.

You woke up to screaming. You thought it was a girl screaming. Maybe Nami or Robin. When consciousness starts to come back to you, you realize it was neither of your guesses. Sanji was standing over your body, screaming at Zoro for not helping you or something along the lines of that.

When Sanji realizes you’re awake, he’s ecstatic, trying hard not to shake your body or overwhelm you. “Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?”

You see the green haired swordsman leave the room, leaving you alone with Sanji.

“What… happened…?” You weakly ask.

“You got into a very bad fight against the marines. If I didn’t find you… you would’ve…” Sanji didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he meant.

“Oh… I’m sorry for worrying you… I promise I’ll be stronger next time…”

“No, no. Y/N, please. You don’t need to be strong. It’s okay.” “But…”

“No buts. Just rest, please. It’s okay to not be strong. There’s so many people outside this room that’s eager to fight for you and make sure you’re okay.”

“But if I’m not strong… then I can’t help everyone…”

“You don’t need to be physically strong to help everyone. It’s okay if you aren’t strong, Y/N. Please, just rest. You don’t need to worry about anything for now. Leave it to Luffy, Mosshead, and everyone else. You did what you could do, and I’m so proud of you. But please rest.”

#one piece #op #monkey d. luffy #vinsmoke sanji #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #comfort #aetherasks

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kriffingstars · 7 months

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Johnny MacTavish; Price has a trophy wife?

pairing: Johnny MacTavish x Price!Reader summary: Johnny makes a fool of himself, but it's all worth it because he made a pretty girl laugh warnings: none :) a/n: anon, thank you for the prompt! Once again asks are open, what do you guys want to see from Johnny and Reader (or platonic Price)

Price's Niece Masterlist

Johnny has been to Price's a number of times, but the front garden has never looked so put together the whole time John has lived there.

Probably hired a Gardner or something, he doesn't peg Price as someone with a green thumb and it's very evident that lots of hard work has gone into the small green space.

It’s nice he notes, slightly rural village, close enough to the city, but still far enough to bring a sense of peace, the new additions make the place feel a bit more homely.

He raps on the door a couple of times before admiring the large lavender bush that now sits next to the gate, the calming scent a bit stronger now, after he brushed past it on his way up to the door.

When you open the door, he’s standing right on your doorstep, hands in his pockets, not paying much attention.

"Hi, Soap is it?" your soft voice cuts through his observation, and he turns to face you.

He was expecting his gruff Captain to answer the door, not a gorgeous, and obviously, much younger woman.

He clears his throat as he takes you in, radient smile and bright eyes are the standout things he admires as his eyes scan over you.

"Come on in. John's just in his office on a call, he'll be down in a minute," you inform him, as you lead him through the hallway into the kitchen.

That's when you tell him your name, and he says it aloud, liking the way it feels as it rolls on his tongue.

He doesn't know it just yet but the way he says it makes your heart flutter just a little bit.

As you pop the kettle on for the three of you his thoughts wander slightly, trying to come up with a good way to ask about your relationship with his CO.

Maybe he doesn't know Price as well as he thinks he does, because never in a million years would he think the man, out of all people, would have a gorgeous, very young, trophy wife.

The lads are never going to believe this.

You carry on with polite conversation until Johnny changes the subject slightly abruptly.

"Sorry is John your husband or…?”

As soon as the words come out of his mouth he's mentally kicking himself. The subject change is like whiplash, you were just asking him how he's enjoying leave and he's just rather rudely ignored what you've just asked him.

Your shoulders begin to heave up and down, as you let out a large belt of laughter. Your face scrunching as you slap a palm over your mouth to mute the noise coming out of it.

Whatever reaction he was expecting, that is not it.

"Oh my gosh, no!" you manage to squeak out between fits of laughter, wiping a loose tear from the outside of your eye.

"He's my uncle," you explain, once your laughter dies down. Adding on about how you're living with him whilst you're at university.

By the time Price finishes his call, and makes his way downstairs Johnny is beet red. It's an unusual sight, but he doesn't address it.

In all honesty, he was a bit apprehensive about the two of you meeting, he knows what Soap is like, and he doesn't want him laying on the charm with you. One of the many reasons why he left out the fact that you were now living with him.

"You'll never guess what Johnny just asked me," you giggle, once the greetings are over.

And now that he knows you're not in fact, Price's secret trophy wife, he basks in the way that even if he did royally embarrass himself, he still made an impression and made you laugh that hard.

#john mactavish x reader #john mactavish headcannon #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish headcannon #john mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish x price!reader #cod mw soap #price!niece!reader

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callsign-relic · 10 months

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Hi Relic!

May I please ask for a Yan!Megatron with a Lost Light human liason who treated him decently because of their morals and ethics. Kind but not naive type. Platonic or romantic whichever vibes with you.

The basic sinario is Megatron returns to the Deceptacons, rescued by his biggest fanboi's unit the DJD and he takes the human liason with him as a pet.

Thank you,

Bookwyrm

Hi Bookwyrm! This was my first yandere request AND first IDW Megs requests, so I was SO excited to build on this combination— and I think it worked out great >:) I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, yandere, kidnapping

You were truly fascinating.

The first few days of Megatron’s arrival upon the Lost Light were… uncomfortable, to say the least. The multitude of members of the crew were cautious of the former warlord— and at first, Megatron believed it was reasonably so. He was the former leader of the Decepticons, after all, how was anyone to even begin to consider trusting him after millennia of war? Much less put their faith in him as one of the co-captains. Such treatment left a bitter taste in his intake.

But then, you came along.

As a liaison for the planet Earth, you were well aware of all that Megatron had done. How he almost conquered your planet, destroyed your planet— the whole works. The gray bot was certain that this new guest upon the ship was just another face to avoid looking directly at, if he were to spare himself of whatever fearful or disapproving look awaited him. But as time passed, you proved that would not be the case.

Whenever you spoke with him, you never broke eye contact. You never stumbled over your words, never made an on-the-spot excuse to pardon yourself from the conversation. You were kind, polite, decent— more than you could say for any of the inorganic beings upon the ship.

And that behavior aroused something within the mech’s spark.

Perhaps he was deserving of all the sour looks and poor treatment he got. But if there was something he was more deserving of, it was the chance at redemption. And that was something that only you seemed to be willing to give him.

So, he spent more time with you. As much time as he could. You radiated a kindness that Megatron found himself enamored with— an oasis in a desert whose dry conditions the mech had thought he had accustomed himself to. He carried you around in his servos or on his shoulder almost at all times, and to his relief, you never seemed to mind. You never noticed the split second of hesitation that crossed his mind when you asked him to place you down, the ache in his spark that waxed and waned the longer he saw you away from his grasp.

It took everything Megatron had within him to put you down. To let you, the one being who had given him a chance from the beginning, go off on your own.

One day, while you were riding upon his shoulder as he kindly offered to bring you where you needed to go, he had asked you why. Why were you so kind to him, even when he was just about the last mech to ever deserve it? And the way you offered a little chuckle before you spoke made his spark dance in its chamber. “Because,” you had answered in that honey-sweet tone of yours, “I think everyone at least deserves a second chance.”

No one else deserved you. You were so kind it was cloying, yet it was a flavor that Megatron never wanted to forget. He needed it all for himself, and he knew you wanted him too. Why else would you keep spending time with him, if that wasn’t the case?

So when alarms began blaring and warning lights started flashing all over the ship, Megatron wasn’t worried. Well, he was— in the sense that he didn’t know where exactly you were while the ship fell into chaos— but he trusted in the plan he had long since formulated in his helm if a situation like this were ever to arise.

You, meanwhile, were racing through the massive steel halls. Heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline seemingly being the only thing keeping you on your feet right now— you frantically looked to and fro for some kind of hiding place.

You had been told about the Decepticon Justice Division, but outside of the fact that they seemed to be Megatron’s biggest fan club, you really weren’t sure what to expect. But if the sounds of screams and a distant melody was anything to go off of, you at least knew you needed to find someplace to hide and keep yourself safe. As much as it has pained you to sit back and do nothing, you were well aware that, unfortunately, you were the person least capable of helping in this situation. Getting in the way would have done more harm than good.

Eventually, you found yourself in one of the lower engine rooms— a mess of cables and wires strung along the inside of one of the wall panels acting as your hiding place for the time being. Despite you trying to focus on your breathing— anything to calm you down— the earth beneath you trembled rhythmically and the wires around shook in time with it.

Someone was coming.

You tried to bury yourself deeper into the cabling, but eventually the wires became too tight for you to slip through. The most you could do was hide behind a wire and hope it was wide enough to cover you.

As the sound of metal shifting on metal rang ever louder in your ears, you raced through the possibilities in a panic. Was it Kaon? Helex? Oh god, please don’t let it be Tarn—

A shadow finally cast itself over you, and you dared to peek your head around the corner.

A wave of relief washed over you as you were met with a familiar black pede. It was just Megatron. He must have been looking for you to see if you were safe.

“Megatron!” You exclaim, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s just me. Go, help Rodimus and the others. I’m safe here, I’ll be fine. Find me back here when it’s all over.”

But the mech did not reply. The dark crimson pools of his optics gazed down at you with an expression you weren’t sure you could read. A nervous smile crept onto your face and, in an effort to encourage him to go on and help the crew, you tried hiding behind the wiring again. “I’ll be okay, I promise. We have you to help protect us, after all.”

There was another clanging of metal, the sound of a bot’s hydraulics shifting as they’d move their joints, but it wasn’t growing more distant as you expected. It got closer, and it was only when you caught a split second of his dark servo approaching you that you realized Megatron had knelt down to your level and reached for you.

Digits longer than your own body wrapped themselves around your form, and you’re lifted high into the air. You call out Megatron’s name, trying to get his attention as the pressure of his servo around you begins to crush you in its tight grip. But he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even cast a glance towards you.

You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he knew a safer spot, and was bringing you over there himself. But even if that was the case, it didn’t explain why he was being so forceful with you. The warlord walked briskly out of the engine room and turned down the hallway—

Towards where the DJD had broken in.

Every instinct in your body activated all at once, and you started to struggle beneath the massive mech’s hold. You tried your best to wiggle your torso, kick your legs, anything— but his grip around you was much too tight for you to do anything significant against. With how he didn’t even look at you, you weren’t even sure he was noticing your rash moments, your cries for help.

But he was. As Megatron stormed towards the DJD’s ship as it awaited him, it tore him apart to see you so stressed. But the mech knew what he was doing was the right thing. You were so kind to him, you didn’t deserve to run and hide. You didn’t deserve to be at the mercy of such a brutal group of mechs. You deserved a good life, one that only Megatron could provide for you, under his constant watch and protection.

You had spared Megatron from living a torturous existence. Now, he was simply returning the favor. You would be just as grateful to him as he was to you, and he knew you’d eventually come around to see that.

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #reader insert #MTMTE #mtmte x reader #lost light #lost light x reader #Megatron #MTMTE Megatron #megatron x reader #MTMTE Megatron x reader #yandere megatron #lost light megatron x reader

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daffi-990 · 3 months

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Fuck it Friday 👨‍🚒

Tagged by the beautiful and kind @tizniz 💕 (and tagged by so many others this week. I read all your snippets and appreciate you all so much for tagging me xx)

Soooooo … I wrote this ages ago, probably when I was maybe only 3 or 4 chapters into Rival Firefighters 🚒, and I’m happy to finally be able to share it cos I’m finally up to the chapter it’s going to be in!

That’s right -> I finished Chapter Eight today and have officially moved onto Chapter Nine! 😭🙌🏻

So here’s a snippet directly from the notes app of my phone (that will soon be moving over to google docs because we’re at chapter nine baby!!!)

Prev snippet here.

“What’s up, Buck?”

Buck shifts his weight from one foot to the other nervously. “Uh, say hypothetically two firefighters from the same station were to start dating? What uh- would one of them have to transfer or something? Like what would happen?”

“Well for starters they’d have to fill out some paperwork.” Bobby explains. “Just declaration of relationship stuff. Then while the paperwork gets processed and reviewed by HR, they’d be required to work seperate shifts, if they didn’t already.” He leans back in his chair. “Once the paperwork has been processed, it’s ultimately up to the Captain of the station on what happens. If they feel the couple in question can continue to work together without their relationship getting in the way, then things can carry on like normal.”

“And uh- if the Captain feels like they can’t work together anymore?” Buck looks up nervously.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, Buck.” Bobby says gently, “Hypothetically of course.” He gives Buck a knowing smile.

Buck exhales in relief, hands coming up to rub at his eyes and drag down his face before dropping back into his lap.

“Thanks, Bobby”

“Anytime. Should I be getting some paperwork ready soon?”

“I’m not- I’m not sure. Haven’t even talked to him about uh, how I feel yet. Who knows if he feels the same.”

“Buck,” Bobby’s voice is kind yet amused, like he knows something Buck doesn’t, “I’ll get started on the paperwork.”

Oh.

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @athenagranted @fortheloveofbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @steadfastsaturnsrings @puppyboybuckley @princessfbi @prettyboybuckley @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @nmcggg and anyone else who wants to share something ❤️

#this snippet is a lot more upbeat than the prev snippets 😅#still got some Buck feels to get through before I get to this part #but this has been patiently waiting to see the light of day soooooo #daffi writes #fic: stuck now so long we just got the start wrong #rival firefighters fic #buddie wip #buddie

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notthefirstfallenangel · 9 months

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Forbidden to die II

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ADULT CONTENT. 18+, language, violence, dark topic

Summary: Captain Price endures the horrors of a Russian prison as a prisoner of war, and finds some solace in his cell neighbour, who helps him stay strong with their late-night chats.

Words: 1.9k

A/N: I'm sorry that this is a short chapter, but I had to divide it into two parts. I will post the next in a few days!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

The inside of your chest was empty. Despair ate its way out of you with a pang of constant, gnawing hunger. You didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. It leaked out of you like poison from a wound.

In there, you tasted fear like never before. It was bitter and sharp and left an aftertaste of sugar on your tongue, like the first moment you tasted a whisper of sorrow that turned into a scream from deep within.

There was nothing but emptiness inside you; the only thing that kept you going was a single, persistent thought.

It was him.

You knocked two times every night, a light knocking and a reassuring pounding between you. After a long and miserable day, that sound was like a gift of light and love amidst the dark gloom. Price smiled as he heard you answer back; it was a sweet melody that calmed him until sleep finally brought a gentle relief to his tired mind and weary body.

When you spoke again, you were weaker. It was as if the part of you that had been so strong and alive a moment before had dissolved and left only a husk behind. You knew this could happen; people in there weakened to the point where they could barely speak or think or see anything but vague shapes and blowing clouds. But you had never expected it to happen to you. The voice that came from his mouth was quiet, but despite your lack of energy, it resonated through your head and body, like a soft whisper in your ear, tingling and soothing.

His voice was deep, warm. “You’re going to be okay, love.” He promised. “You keep telling yourself that, got it?” his soft, sweet voice almost inaudible as the walls swallow everything.” You’re going to be okay…” He repeated, the warmth of his voice growing stronger yet still almost inaudible - A gentle rhythm that calmed your soul.

You didn’t answer immediately. The silence filled the room, and you could hear your heart beating- it was like a cannon, all of the impacts and shocks, all of the things that had happened before and were happening to your present, all gathered in the small chamber of your chest.

You wanted to believe him. He was so warm and kind. But you felt heavy as if your body weighed a thousand pounds.

“...I don’t know.”

You heard your voice echo in the darkness like it had been stolen and bottled up, imprisoned in a bottle to be opened later, after everything had fallen apart.

“Don’t give up.” The walls grew thinner as his voice became even more tender. “You hear me? You ain’t going to give up.” As he rested his back against the hard surface of the wall, he could feel an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and weariness wash over him. The weight of a long and arduous day seemed to be bearing down on him, causing him to feel drained and depleted of energy.” You’re going to fight, okay? You aren’t weak. But you’ve got to keep going.”

His words were like a lifeline, tethering you to this world and reminding you that there was still something worth fighting for.

You wanted to believe him. But it was so difficult. You could barely open your eyes, let alone think or move. And even his voice felt like it was slipping away, leaving you with only the faintest memories trailing behind it.

He grew quiet for some time, contemplating his following words. “Just hang in there.” He said quietly, his words sounding raspy and gentle - unlike the soldier you were used to. But at that moment, he was not a soldier. He was just Price - a person with thoughts, hopes and fears. “We’re going to get out of this hell, love.” His words sounded soft and tender, yet they carried weight. You could feel his words deep in your bones. They hit you like a hammer, shaking you with the force of conviction. He had faith in that conviction.

You wanted to have enough faith in what he believed to change your own mind.

The ground was dry and hard, cold and unforgiving. The wind whipped against you, but you couldn’t feel it. It just felt like you were standing in the presence of an angry god.

Your throat was raw, and your eyes felt crusty and swollen. They felt thick and heavy, and you had trouble keeping them open. Your head was muzzy, and it was hard to think of anything besides the dull throbbing growing more intense in your limbs.

You could barely feel your own hands, so cold and numb. Your feet were icy cold as well; your skin furred with goosebumps.

A sickening, putrid stench of death and decay wafted in, fitting for a place like that. Anyone else would have passed out from the smell within seconds, but the fear pumping through you is far worse than the scent.

“I’m going to die in here, trapped,” you said monotonously.

“What did you say?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral. He had a feeling about what was coming.

“I’ve had enough of your false promises! We’re stuck here, and we can do nothing about it!”

His voice was tight, and harsh, but his words still contained the gentleness of the man you’d become accustomed to. “That’s your fear talkin’, love. I know because I’ve felt it, too. It’s time to push yourself past it, okay? Otherwise, this place is going to eat you alive.” He spoke gently, his words soft and filled with compassion.

“Look, I’m not asking you to believe me.” His voice was gruff and frail. There was no strength to be heard. It was devoid of hope, as though he knew you would no longer listen to him. “Just stay alive, okay? for me?”

“...Fine”

But he knew you said it just to make him feel better. You didn’t want to agree with him, but you also didn’t want to keep on disagreeing.

The only light came from outside; though the sky was clear and moonless, you could see the stars in the night sky.

Your voice was like a ghost to the outset, the darkness consuming it as your words were swallowed by the void. Your voice was carried away by the wind, swallowed by your mouth without so much as a whisper of sound.

“I’m not scared. “

“I know.” There was an edge to Price’s words and in his tone.” We need a diversion. We send someone out to the main entrance to make a mess to attract attention, to give us time.”

He spoke in a soft, quiet voice. You almost had to press your ear against the wall to hear his words.

“... I’ll go.”

“Not you, love.” Price’s words were quick and direct.

“Yes”, You said stern and clear, like a glass being broken in half.” It’s our plan; it’s only fair that one of us go.”

“But it ain’t gonna be you.” his words were blunt and final.

You didn’t miss how he changed those last days- The transition was a subtle one, but you noticed it nonetheless.

He grew more confident as the plan to take the prison took shape.

You could hear his voice lift from within him, rising and retracting with the power of his authority. The emotional intensity of what he said made him a captain; no one dared question him.

The power of his position wasn’t just a magnet -- it was an engine that fed on fear, loneliness and hate. It gathered others around him.

“Why not?”

It was a simple question. But it required more than a simple reply.

As the day passed and people started to hear about the plan, you noticed the men around you were nervous, their eyes darting to the doors and walls—the hard stares of the guards, like they could sense what was about to happen.

The prison is designed to intimidate a large building of blocks and fences, warded by sentries and turrets. The entrance is garish with its brilliant white paint, like the teeth of a shark.

Your plan had involved more people than you thought; many lives depended on you two.

“’Cause you’re too important to the plan, love.” He paused, letting you mull over his words. “You’re smart. Resourceful.” his voice was low but growing in intensity. “You’ve got the balls. I need you to be in charge if this thing goes tits up.”

There was no question in the request, only a demand.

“That’s not going to happen.”

You laid your head against the wall. It was cold, but for some reason, it felt good; it gave you a sense of stability. A proof that you were still alive and not in a level of hell.

“We can’t be certain, can we, love?” he said. “It’s got to be me.” The voice was soft, almost a whisper, but its timbre carried the power of thunder.

Your teeth chattered; it was cold in the space, and the heavy air in the room seemed to be pushing air out of your lungs. The smell of fear was rich in the air, like the aura of a predator.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t allow it.

“No!” you exclaimed. “We need you, I need you. You are the captain. I can’t do this alone; we can’t move without your guidance!”

The air was dry, plain. A scent you were getting used to, a smell of dust and metal and human bodies. A scent of defeat.

“I know, but you can do this.” He paused for a moment, the words coming quickly and clearly in his voice.” I know you’ve got the heart for it. For ’em.” He says that last word with a hint of venom, “I’ve met some leaders in my time...but you’re one of the few people I’d trust to see something like this through.”

“Please, stop talking like this! You promised, John!”

“I ain’t sayin’ I’ll get myself killed, love. But we gotta be real about this and consider worst-case scenarios, right?” He paused. There was a quiet strength to him as if the words were a physical thing he must hold in check. “You gotta be ready for it, love.”

“I...I know”

You were scared, and it tasted like you were losing.

It took you a moment to realise what it was. A taste of fear, a bitter taste of despair, it was sweet and sharp. It was like crying, but something worse.

“It doesn’t have to be you,” you said. The tears welled up, and you closed your eyes because you were afraid to show weakness and be weak, even if it’s in the dark, even if it’s only you.

“There ain’t no one else, love. The rest of ’em won’t have the balls, and you know it.” There was a long pause as John seemed to mull over what else needed to be said. “Whatever happens to me, you carry on. Promise me, that’s all I can ask.”

You felt numb, distant, detached, yet his voice spoke to you again.

“Love, promise me.” There was a pleading to the words you’d never heard from John before. You’d heard him shout, be cold, be cruel and sarcastic. But you’d never heard him beg.

“I promise...”

Your fingers were crossed.

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