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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

Text

you made me this way

words: 1.5k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, murder!!, guns!!, blood!!, drug dealer!rafe and reader, reader kills a cop!!, romanticizing murder and violence!!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral

“baby, give me the gun.” rafes eyes are wide, but they're not trained on you, even as he reaches his hand out for the weapon.

you quickly turn it and place the handle against his palm, your own hand shaking when you lower it. rafe unloads the chamber before tucking the gun into his belt, his eyes still on the body now bleeding out on the deck of the boat.

“baby. what the fuck did you just do?” rafe finally drags his eyes away from the growing pool of red.

you're surprised by rafes anger, his harsh tone.

“you-you said he was in our way!” you justify your actions.

rafe knew it was a mistake to let you into the drug game on the island, to convert you from sweet innocent girlfriend to a dealer, to the partner in his growing empire.

“so you fucking shoot him?” rafe shouts, stepping closer to you.

“of course! i did this for us rafe, for you.” you emphasize. you'd do anything for rafe, and you were just showing him by taking out the competition, and a dirty cop in the meanwhile. no one would suspect that an officer was the one rivaling with the young dealer on the island, so the best thing you could do for business was to dispose of him before he was able to get enough dirt to turn to his colleagues and become the sole distributor in the outer banks.

“we gotta get rid of his body-fuck-who else knew he was here?” rafes mind is reeling, running through all the possibilities of ways you could get caught as he looks around the isolated area, his boat anchored in the sand.

“nobody! i was really safe about it and we are close to the swamp, we can dump his body there and then no one will ever know.” you explain, having learned from rafes stories and warnings that the alligators will take care of anything left in the swamp.

“okay.” rafe takes a deep breath. “okay. we’ll figure this out. lets just get rid of this body then go from there.” “you’re hard.” you point out, rafe looking down at his swim trunks, tented in the front. “you just murdered someone for me baby, of course i’m hard.”

“fuck me.” you cross over to rafe, pressing your body into his. “fuck me then we can get rid of the body.”

“you’re fucking crazy.” rafe says, but a smile graces his lips, his hand grabbing your ass.

“if i’m crazy, it’s because you’ve made me that way.” you kiss rafe, mouth quickly being devoured by him.

rafe moves you backwards towards the sofa, the sunlight hitting the plastic waterproof material as he pushes your hips down to sit, with rafe still hovering over top you.

“suck me, baby.” rafe tugs his swim shorts down, his hard cock instantly being swallowed as you lean forward, needing to taste his thickness in your mouth.

“fuck, so good.” rafe moans, thrusting his hips forward, fucking into your mouth as you relax your throat for him to slide down. rafes hands fist in your hair as he moans, eyes flickering over to the dead body, the man that you killed for rafe, for your joint business.

“love your mouth, baby. love everything about you.” rafes soft words are contrast to how hard hes pushing his cock inside of your mouth, not even caring when you start to gag around him, struggling to breathe through your nose.

you eventually have to tap rafes thigh to take a deep breath, but your hand takes the place while you breath, continuing to pleasure rafe.

“wanna fuck you now, come on.” rafe grabs your hips, turning you over so you’re kneeling on the couch, hands gripping the back, looking over the side of the boat towards the sea.

rafe tugs your dress up, the thin cotton material revealing your swimsuit. rafe groans at the tiny bows on either side of your hip, instantly tugging at them so your bikini bottoms fall to the floor.

“do anything for you rafey.” you moan as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds, feeling how wet you are. “anything.” you shudder as he pushes against your entrance, his cock easily entering you with how wet you are.

“i know, baby.” rafe groans, pushing into you slowly but with ease. “you killed for me.” “would do it again.” you clench your cunt around rafes cock, encouraging him to move faster.

rafe keeps the slow pace despite you whining, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you still. “gonna fuck you nice and slow at first. make you feel real good.”

rafe moves one hand around to your stomach, gently caressing your soft skin before skirting lower, his fingers circling around your clit before pressing over it, his fingertips soft on your sensitive pussy as he rubs.

“so good.” you moan, eyes squeezing shut instead of looking at the horizon.

“i know, baby, i know.” rafe groans, glancing over at the dead cop again, the circle of blood expanding even more. rafe knows the clean up is going to be a bitch, but it’s worth it to get rid of the competition.

“harder, please.” you whine.

“not yet.” rafe smirks, loving that you’re already begging for him. “gotta be good and still for me, okay?”

“can’t.” you whine, trying to move a little, but rafes hands are too tight, keeping you from doing anything besides squirming a bit.

“just a bit longer, mmkay? you just killed a man for me, you need to calm down and let me take care of you.” rafe flicks over your clit before continuing to rub over it.

you take a deep breath, trying to calm down and just focus on rafes cock smoothly rubbing against your walls, lightly stretching you open.

“ready?” rafe hums, and before you can register his question, his thrusts suddenly deepening and quickening, pounding into you while pulling you back onto his cock with his one hand.

“oh fuck!” you shout out, glad that there is no one in the desolate area to hear you screaming, as well as the gunshot that went off.

“good girl, good girl.” rafe moans, bucking up into you as your knees stick to the plastic couch material.

“i’m-i can’t.” you moan, letting your head fall as your body pushes forward with every thrust from rafe. “can’t.” you moan again. “feels so good.”

“you gonna cum for me?” rafe questions, his fingers still rapidly rubbing over your clit. you feel his cock swelling inside of you and know he’s not too far away himself.

“yeah.” you nod rapidly. “yeah, so close.” you squeal, feeling lucky that you found someone as perfect as rafe, someone who can make you feel so good.

“gonna cum inside you, pretty girl.” rafe warns shortly before you feel him release inside of you, his cum flooding into your pussy. his orgasm triggers you own, high suddenly ripping through your body as your cunt pulses around rafes cock, milking him even more than he thought possible.

“oh, fuck.” your body quivers when rafe gently pulls out, cum leaking from your cunt and dripping onto the sofa.

“so good, baby.” rafe says, helping you turn over onto your bottom as you slump against the couch, adrenaline from the shooting and ecstacy from the sex quickly draining from your body.

“come here.” you reach up for rafe with the last of your strength, who quickly sinks to his knees and cuddles into your neck, his lips pressing over your neck.

“we gotta take care of this body, baby.” rafe mumbles, tucking himself back into his swimshorts.

“i know, i know.” you sigh, rubbing your fingers over his scalp before allowing him to stand up. you take a moment to breathe while he goes to the captains chair, navigating the boat further into the swamp. you finally get the energy to grab your bikini bottoms at put them back on, the mess of cum now on the seat, but its nothing compared to the mess of blood you know you’ll have to spend hours scrubbing off with bleach.

“here should be good.” rafe says, standing up and grabbing the cop by his arms, dragging him over the edge of the boat with a loud splash. you peak over the edge at the body, both watching as it takes only minutes for an alligator to surface, bumping the cops arm before the gators teeth chomp down.

you gasp, more surprised that you feel nothing seeing the ferocious animal tear into a man that you just murdered.

“come on, baby.” rafe grabs a bucket, knowing it’ll be best to clean as much as you can of the boat before taking it back to the dock.

“wait, rafe.” you grab his arm, looking into his bright blue eyes. “i-i liked it.”

“what?” rafe questions, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“i liked killing him. i would do it again. for you, for us.”

the corner of rafes lip quirks up. “you better stop talking like that before i have to fuck you again.”

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months

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ive been really obsessed with your gojo/geto naga oneshots and asks lately it feels like literal brain rot at this point its so good. ive reread it 6 times lol

i was wondering though, what would Geto do if Gojo was just a little bit too heavy handed with you? to the point of a sprained or broken arm or leg. Would he get mad at Gojo or just mad in general that reader was hurt? Also how would they act in response to the injured reader who can't do basic tasks themselves, I personally think they would enjoy the fact she relied on them even more to even move now.

Reminder requests are still closed!!!! I just love this idea so so much holdon lemme-

Part one Part three

(Yandere, dark, implied forced relationships, noncon touching, biting, language barriers, drugging(?))

Top of the Food Chain pt2

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Two days later, Satoru still wasn't allowed inside the cave.

You can hear him, hissing and clicking, right outside, hovering just behind the invisible line Suguru refused to let him pass. If you weren't already in so much pain, you would have found pity on the poor thing. He wasn't allowed in his own home, even though the incident wasn't entirely his fault.

Technically, Satoru saved you. It was yet again another escape attempt. Something you'd been doing a lot these days once you've figured out these beings' intentions with you. You'd gotten past the rock quarry this time, a new record. Your plan was filled with holes: there was no way to truly escape the island. You had no boat, no way to call for help. Still, you ran, forgetting that there were more dangerous things on this island other than two territorial serpent men.

It was a monster. There was no other way to describe it. Big, ugly, shiny spikes and sharp teeth, eyes dripping with bloodlust. You would have been eaten, killed, maimed, if Satoru hadn't caught up with you in time.

The only collateral was the loss of nearby plant life and your broken wrist.

That had been Satoru's fault. He'd pulled at you too hard at the hand. The remnants of adrenaline from the fight, his anger, anger made him too rough on your fragile body. He froze at the wet snap, and then you started screaming. That was how Suguru had found you. Despite how much Satoru clicked and hummed and tittered, from his mate's look, you doubted it helped his case.

Another lonely coo made you wince. Suguru only huffed, wrapping you tighter in his coils. They were already warm from your body heat. The numerous animal pelts helped your comfort too.

"Make him stop," you beg, "he's been going on for hours."

At that, Suguru lifts his head from the base of your neck. He tilts his head as he surveys you, and you can't help but think how awful you must look. Sickly-looking from the pain, clammy skin. He can't do much about your appearance, but the least he could do was shut Satoru up.

"What want?" Suguru asks, "water?"

At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.

Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.

You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.

There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.

"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."

"Hurt?" he asks.

To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.

A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.

He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.

"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.

"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.

When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.

"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.

Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.

"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.

"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.

He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?

For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.

And then, you feel weightless.

It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.

When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.

"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.

You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.

When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.

Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.

"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."

If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.

"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.

Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.

Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.

You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.

"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.

Blue, almost glowing.

"But no more leave."

You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.

The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.

"Yes," you finally say, "no more leave."

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark content #dark gojo satoru #dark jjk #non con touching #implied drugging #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #naga au #naga gojo satoru #naga geto suguru #language barriers #polygamous relationship #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #naga satosugu

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goddessofmischief · 7 months

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can i request anything mihawk related and him pining after y/n

— I CAN SEE YOU (YOUNG MIHAWK X READER)

A/N: this is part of this series, which requests are open for! These fics are all one-shots, so they can be read separately.

He'd been thinking about you a lot lately.

You, the pretty girl who sailed with the Roger Pirates and made port in the same towns he did from time to time. You, who seemed to always be flanked by the boy with the red nose and the other boy with the red hair.

You. You. You.

You were clever - he noticed that at once - you had to be, to hold your own with so many men stronger and older than you, and he watched as you navigated through one dangerous situation after another, always escaping unscathed. The other boys tried to help, of course, but you didn't need them at all. Mihawk noticed that, too.

He liked the sort of clothes you wore - usually a bit oversized, which made sense, so you didn't have to buy new ones every time you grew, an unfortunate practicality for anyone growing up at sea - and often velvet, or satin, or with embroidered patterns, and usually in dark shades of olive, maroon or black. Sometimes cotton dresses of the palest ivory, which he also liked.

Mihawk had made a habit of always noticing the appearance of others, and judged them quite harshly on it - not their looks or dimensions or things they could not change, but how well they presented themselves. Living the way he did, the way you did, did not lend itself to luxury or composure or cleanliness, so he noticed whenever anyone paid special attention to how they looked.

You did. He never caught you without loosely wound curls, brushed out, or loose buns, or intricate braids that he sometimes heard the red-haired pirate protesting at doing for you. Mihawk noticed all of these things because they were things he liked about himself, and he liked them about you, too.

But even after all this liking and appreciating, which had gone on for many months now, he could never have the strength to talk to you. It wasn't for his own insecurity, although Mihawk was a good deal less boastful and more shy than most of the pirates his age, but more for fear of what he might say when he actually spoke to you for the first time. He had never struck out with girls before, but that was mostly for lack of trying. They found him, most of the time, and either liked his Hawk-Eyes or they didn't.

It was on one of those days, where Mihawk had made port at a small island and was sipping on a flute of wine at a small bar, that he found himself gazing at you again. You'd just stumbled off Roger's ship, and seemed in awe of your surroundings. Your friends already held drinks far too big for them and had wandered off, staring at the skyline, but you were clearly unsure of what to get. Mihawk watched as your fingernail dragged against a small menu, tracing every option, hesitating around the ones with dried flowers in them. You liked dried flowers, evidently, and he would remember that.

The thought crossed his mind that he might go get a drink for you, and perhaps begin some sort of conversation-

No. No. Stupid.

You could get your own drink.

And you were about to, it seemed, when a rather terrifying-looking mercenary pressed a blade to your back. Mihawk immediately reached for his own, which he had fondly nicknamed 'Yoru,' and had not yet seen much action.

"How'd you find me?" you said, voice trembling.

"Followed you," said the mercenary. "You owe us. We know you only gave us half of what you found when you raided that vault."

"That's not true," you said, and Mihawk felt you were telling the truth, although he may have been biased. "It just wasn't as much as you thought it would be-"

The mercenary forced his blade closer, and Mihawk decided he couldn't allow this to go on for one more second. Moving quietly, he removed Yoru from his scabbard, and drew the blade against the mercenary's neck.

"Move aside," said Mihawk, trying to make his voice more steady than it felt.

The mercenary stared him down.

"Who are you?"

"Dracule Mihawk," he said. "And I'd like you to step away."

"I refuse."

What happened next was completely uncalled for and also fated. Mihawk simply moved the sword very quickly to the side, and the mercenary fell, and that was the end of it.

It was not the first blood Dracule Mihawk had ever spilled. It was, however, the first blood he had spilled with this particular sword.

This sword, which would live on in infamy long after he was gone, this sword, which would become synonymous with not only his name, but swordsmanship itself.

First blood, this sword, and it had all been over you.

History would forget.

...But you would remember.

#mihawk x reader #mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader

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viking-raider · 5 months

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A Christmas Miracle🎄

Summary: You and Henry are celebrating Christmas with family, while expecting your first child together.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Soft!Henry, Fluff, Kal, Papa Bear!Henry, Domestic Bliss, Christmas Decorating, Pregnancy Stuff, Cotton Candy Fluff, Loving Marriage, Christmas Fluff

Inspiration: This story ties into my Easter story, The Golden Egg.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

“Babe!” Henry gasped, as he came into the living room, nearly tossing the steaming cup of tea in his hand, upon discovering you.

You were standing on the two-step high stool, to sprinkle golden tinsel on the fragrant and robust branches of an eight foot Fraser Fir that stood proudly in the corner of the living room. You chuckled, shaking your head at your husband, but didn't look back at him, as you picked a bit of tinsel off one of the emerald branches, having adorned the needles with too much of the sparkling, thin strands.

“You shouldn't be up there, love!” He scolded you, setting the tea he had made you on the coffee table as he rounded it and the couch, to come towards you, resting his hands on your hips. “I told you, I would help you decorate the tree, once I was done with your tea.”

“I know you did, Hen.” You answered, sighing softly, finally looking down at him and seeing the wrinkle of worry between his brow. It hadn't smoothed since the Brit found out you were pregnant with his child on Easter, nearly nine months before. “But I'm also capable of doing it myself.” You reminded him, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving his neck a gentle squeeze.

“I'm pregnant, not invalid.”

Henry sighed softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your round and pronounced belly. “I know you're capable, sweetheart.” He assured you, looking up at you with an affection in his blue eyes that always melted your heart. “I just don't want you to get hurt. Especially with you so close to the due date.” He said, helping you step down off the stool. “Just sit down and enjoy your tea. Then, we'll tag team the tree together.” He told you, putting an excited smile on his face.

“All right.” You conceded, settling down on the couch and took up your tea, cupping the mug between your hands and letting the heat seep into your palms, before finally taking a sip.

“Your parents will be here in a couple days.” Henry commented, squatting beside a box of Christmas decorations neither of you had opened up yet. “My parents made up their guest house in preparation for their arrival.” He told you, peeking into the box.

Halfway into your pregnancy, Henry had taken time off from acting and the two of you decided to leave your secluded London home for the coziness of Henry's home island of Jersey. Buying a nice, beach front property, three streets and a five-minute walk from his parents' place, with the intent on having your baby boy born in Saint Helier. You loved being on the little Channel Island, sitting on the back patio or taking walks on the beach, breathing in the soothing sea air, which helped your morning sickness a good deal.

The only downside was your family was far out of reach of you, having to fly into Jersey to visit and check-in on you. Your parents wanted to be on hand when you finally had their third grand-baby, so Henry footed the bill to bring them out and his parents were amazing enough to host them while they were here.

“That's great.” You smiled, flexing your sore and swollen feet, watching him pull out ornaments, garland and other little tree decorations. “I can't wait to see them again.” You commented, not having seen them since your fourth month, just before you and Henry left for Jersey. “I'm sure my mom will bring more knitted items.” You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to the soft, butter-yellow blanket your mother had knitted a couple months ago.

“I would be shocked, if she didn't!” Henry laughed back, his broad shoulders shaking as he stood. “What garland do you want on the tree?” He asked, holding up a strand of colorful beads and another of red and white, twisted ribbons.

You hummed, pressing your lips together and studied your tree, eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing the colors on its branches. “I think the ribbon would work best with it.” You finally settled, nodding content with your choice.

“All right then.” He nodded back, putting the other garland aside. “Ah, nope!” He tisked, when you set your tea down and started the mini struggle of standing up. “You put the tinsel on the tree, it's my turn to put the garland on. You relax.”

“Fair enough.” You sighed softly, picking your tea back up and rested against the couch cushions, just in time for Kal to jump up beside you. “Well, hello there, sweet boy.” You cooed at him, reaching out to give him good scratches between the ears and around the neck. “Have you come to make sure I stay put?” You quipped, the Akita resting his head in your lap.

“I did no such thing!” Henry called over his shoulder, carefully tucking the garland into the branches.

“Sure, love. Sure.” You chuckled at him, though Henry's protectiveness at times could be a little overbearing, you knew he did it out of love and first-time father worries. “He's paying you in treats and promises of all the good turkey, ham and brisket bits he plans on cooking for Christmas dinner.” You accused, lifting a brow at the unphased Akita, before wincing and pressing a palm to the side of your belly.

“You all right?” Henry asked, catching a glimpse from his peripheral, pausing a moment.

“Yeah, your son just kicks like a Fly-Half.” You answered, chuckling halfheartedly. “If he keeps these strong legs, he'll for sure make the England team.” You said, trying to ease the look of suspicion on Henry's face, that it was the baby kicking, and your own, that the pain was something more than a false contraction.

“You missed a branch there, Bubs.” You commented, drawing Henry's attention away from the subjection, motioning with your steaming black, Nightmare Before Christmas cup.

“Mm.” He grunted, narrowing his eyes at you, but turned to fuss over it.

You took a deep breath, rubbing the globe of your stomach, hoping to soothe any would-be pains. Thankfully, you didn't have any more throughout the morning, helping Henry put up the ornaments and other little hanging knick knacks on the tree. Something Henry was comfortable with you doing, since you kept your feet on the hardwood, safely beside him.

“I want to do a little plaster imprint of his hand and foot, to hang up on the tree for next year.” You commented suddenly, gently holding a little needlepoint ornament you'd made. It was a silhouette of Henry and you, with Kal between you, the year above your heads. You had made one every year since the first Christmas the three of you had spent together. “Should make a new needlepoint too.” You added even softer.

Henry glanced down at you, a fond and nostalgic light in his blue orbs. “I think that would be a lovely idea, babe.” He smiled, warmed at the idea. “I like the idea of making and expanding our little traditions.”

“I should have given myself a baby bump in this one.” You joked, carefully adding the stitched ornament on a branch, accompanied with the others around it. “So much for accuracy.”

“It looks perfect, my love.” He assured you, kissing your hair. “Now, let's turn the lights on and see how this thing looks!” He proclaimed, shuffling around the tree and plugged in the two strings of lights skillfully wrapped around the tree.

You stood back to get a good look at the Fir, just as the tiny, cool and warm-white LED, diamond facet bulbs flickered on. Making many of the ornaments glitter and twinkle. It brought a great feeling of delight bubbling up inside of you, tugging on your exhausted and hormonal raged body, until tears spilled over.

“Sweetheart.” Henry cooed, pouting at you sweetly, as he closed his arms around your shoulders, hugging you as closely as your belly would allow.

“It looks beautiful.” You mumbled into his chest, fingers gripping at the sides of his shirt.

He smiled, nosing the hair at the top of your head and rubbing your back with one hand. “It is, dear, and so are you.”

“I'm also starving.” You blurted out, breaking the melancholy mood.

“Butter chicken or pepperoni and feta pizza?”

“Oh god, you know me too well at this point.” You giggled, licking your lips. “But, the butter chicken.”

You sat up in bed, Kal resting between your legs, with his head laying on your belly, as you read your latest book on your Kindle. While Henry was downstairs doing some work on the new Warhammer minis he ordered as a way to keep himself occupied, when he wasn't taking care of you.

“Oh.” You gasped, feeling a sudden, sharp pain. “Gosh, did we disagree on the butter chicken, Bean?” You groaned, pressing your palm to the side of your stomach; Kal lifting his to sniff at your belly as another pain caused you to cramp. “It's all right, Bud. Your brother is just being a little difficult.” You sighed, setting your e-reader on your nightstand and lumbered out of bed, before heading downstairs.

“Hey, love.” Henry smiled, looking up from the Ultramarine mini in his hand. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I was trying to, but your son doesn't agree with dinner.” You explained to him, looking over his progress on his Warhammer army. “Can you do your trick?” You asked, lulling your head to the side and giving him a cute look.

Henry chuckled, setting his mini down. “My trick.” He smirked, standing up and moving behind you. “Any reason to cuddle.” He teased, reaching around to cup both hands beneath your stomach and leaned you both backwards, taking the weight of your belly as he did.

“Mmm.” You hummed, eyes falling shut, while you let your head rest against Henry's chest. “It feels so good.” You sighed, resting your hands on his.

Henry cradling your baby bump had become a god send throughout your third trimester. Taking the weight of your healthy and active baby boy off your lower back and hips. However in your earlier trimesters, the two of you learned it helped relieve your heartburn and whenever your little one got a bit too restless.

You liked to think it was the baby reacting to Henry's touch.

It was calm for a long, few moments, just you and Henry, slowly swaying side to side, the baby calm. But again, your stomach spasmed and you whimpered, making it clear to Henry, you were indeed having some sort of contractions.

“How long has this been going on?” He asked, eyes wide and brows pinched.

“Since this morning.” You confessed finally, taking slow, deep breaths.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He demanded, startled and worried.

“I didn't have any through the afternoon.” You assured him, patting his hands. “I figured it was just false. But, I'm starting to think otherwise, with how much that one hurts.”

“We should probably go to the hospital.” Henry fret, starting away from you, but you turned and caught his elbow.

“Henry.” You said in a soft, soothing voice. “You remember what the OB said?” You tried reminding him. “Four-One-One.”

“Four minutes apart, a minute long, lasting an hour.” He recited, having listened to your OB, and read numerous baby and expecting parent books.

You had taken a couple of parenting classes as well. Until people started posting photos of you on social media, annoying you and causing Henry to be even more of a papa bear. So, you'd found an online, private class to do in the comfort of your living room.

“Not one has lasted a minute, been four minutes apart or lasted an hour.” You assured him, dropping your hand to his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If they're the real deal, I'm in the early stages and going to the hospital now will only incur hours and hours of waiting. Which we'll be doing here anyway.”

“What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen, you worry-wart.” You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “Come to bed with us.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes, kissing his bearded cheek and brushing your fingers through the curls above his ear.

“You'll tell me.” Henry insisted as he followed you upstairs to the master bedroom.

“Of course, I'll tell you, Henry.” You assured him. “Then, I'll tell Kal.” You quipped, trying to lighten the mood and get him to smile.

But he didn't smile, his mind preoccupied with making sure everything was ready, should you wake him up and tell him your contractions were growing close together.

Did I get the car seat in the Audi correctly? Where did I put the hospital bag? In this closet or the coat closet downstairs? Everything's in it she and the baby needs, right?

“Babe.”

Perhaps I should just go down and get it, to make sure. What about the nursery? Thank God, I finished the crib last month!

“Hen..”

Do we need more diapers? Are they the right size? What if--

“Henry!” You called out, when he didn't answer you, a far off and growing alarm look in his cerulean eyes, startling him out of his worried trance. “Everything is all right.” You said slowly, holding his gaze steadily. “We have everything we need. Everything the baby needs. If we don't, that's perfectly fine. Your parents and mine have offered their help, should it arise. As have your brothers.”

“I don't know how you're so calm.” He sighed, shaking his head and dropping down on his side of the bed.

You laughed, smirking. “I'm not calm. But there's no use for us both freaking out, especially at the same time. Besides, when I freak out, I have you to pull me back together, the least I can do is return the favor, when you start to lose it.” You told him, maneuvering yourself back under the covers.

“What's a spouse for?”

“You're right.” Henry nodded, turning the light out and resting against the headboard beside you. “One of the many reasons I love you, and married you.” He said, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

Snuggling down, your back pressed against Henry's chest with his hand ever present on your belly, you tried to focus on falling asleep.

“You know.” Henry commented, half-asleep himself. “I sort of miss when you were in your first and second trimesters.”

“Oh?” You mumbled back, with interest.

“Yeah, you were always jumping my bones.” He laughed, shaking the bed with his mirth. “Well, until the end of your second trimester, when your belly got too big to do anything other than waddle and ride my cock.”

You were instantly awake again at his words. A huge smile of hot guilt and embarrassment on your face, that you hid in your pillow. It was true! The first stages of your pregnancy had made you quite frisky towards Henry. Sometimes so much so, he hadn't recovered from the last time you'd had sex and would need to pleasure you in other ways to bring your arousal down. Not that the man complained about it! But a couple weeks into your third trimester, the raging inferno of your passions cooled off. Even beyond what they were before you were expecting. You were just too tired and sore, uncomfortable, and just ready to give birth, to think of such things. But again, Henry didn't complain. You were grateful for that, because you felt bad that your mood didn't match his, at the moment.

Having seen the look of concupiscent on his face more than once, as the two of you showered together, went to bed or woke in the mornings. But you just didn't have it in you, and he took it with grace and understanding acceptance, not pressuring you or making you feel like a bad partner, for not reciprocating.

The two of you calmed down and allowed each other to finally fall asleep.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked, the next morning as the two of you finished breakfast.

“I feel all right, Bubs. Only a few pains here and there.” You answered, polishing off your usual cup of chamomile tea, something that had been a staple throughout your pregnancy, to battle your morning sickness and heartburn. “Excited to make cookies with your mum.”

Henry smiled across the table at you. “Good. I bet all these sugary smells are going to drive you and wee man nutty.”

It was a Cavill family tradition to get together, before Christmas, and make cookies for the big family dinner party, as well as to give out as tokens to friends and neighbors. It was also considered quite the honor among the Cavill brothers' wives to have Marianne ask to join her in the massive production. Since she didn't ask just anyone to help her; having a couple secret family recipes to protect in the process. But Marianne had asked, surprisingly and much to Henry's pride, you to help her, at your and Henry's first Christmas. Something that made one or two of Henry's sisters-in-law jealous, especially since the two of you were new and still dating, and one of them had never been asked.

Even to this day.

“Our mouths are already watering for your mother's chocolate chip, mocha cookies.” You confessed; it was one of the many things you looked forward to for Christmas. Marianne's chocolate chip, mocha flavored cookies were something you'd start a fight over, as were her chocolate covered, Oreo truffles with peppermint bark crumble on top. “Oh god.” You moaned, stuffing the last bit of bland, buttered toast into your mouth; Henry laughing at you.

“I'm going to roast up another heritage turkey this year.” He commented, finishing his coffee, then helped clear the breakfast table. “Everyone seemed to love it last year.”

“That's fine with me.” You answered, loading the soap dispenser and starting the dishwasher. “I have one small request.”

“You could make an enormous request, love!” Henry snorted, taking a protein shake out of the fridge.

“I want yams with roasted marshmallows on top.” You told him, confidently. “To myself.”

“To yourself?” He echoed, a smirk on his lips. “How big is the dish?”

“A small one is fine. I just don't want to share it.” You confessed your craving to him.

Letting out a laugh and nodding, Henry shrugged. “All right then. I'll make sure you have your roasted marshmallow covered yams, and I'll have Kal guard them.”

“Excellent.” You nodded back, then looked at your watch. “We should get going. Your mother asked us to get there before ten.” You informed him, heading for the front door and eased yourself down on a small bench that was there.

Henry joined you, squatting down to grab your shoes from underneath the bench and slipped them on your feet, tying them securely, since your prominently belly prevented you from reaching your feet to put on your shoes. Let alone tie them. Your shoes on and helping you back up, Henry got his own shoes on, but paused as he opened the door for you and Kal. He glanced back at the hall closet. Biting his lip, he hurried over and grabbed the baby bag from inside, then dashed after you, putting the bag in the back as he got behind the wheel.

“Just in case.” He answered your lifted brow.

“Fair, I suppose.” You shrugged, unable to argue with his logic.

“How are you holding up, my love?” Henry asked, peeking into the kitchen, before shuffling over to you, sure his mother wouldn't shoo him out.

“My cookie restraint thinned dramatically after the second batch.” You confessed, looking around at all the Santa's, snowmen, candy canes and snowflakes that were either waiting to go into the oven or cooling. “However, your mum apparently anticipated this. Making me batch yesterday, so I could nibble on them, while we made these.”

Henry grinned, touched at his mother's thoughtfulness. “That was sweet of her.” He cooed, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. “Have you had any more pains?” He asked, his brows pinching slightly, worried.

“Nothing concerning.” You told him, closing your hand around his wrist. “You know I'd come get you.” You tried assuring him, giving him a soft smile. “Or your mum would, should my water break.” You giggled, a smile turning into a smirk.

“That's not funny, babe.” Henry snapped softly, eyes big.

You pressed your lips together, guilty, before pushing up on your bare toes, having taken off your shoes for the long standing in the kitchen, to press your lips against Henry's. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You mumbled against them, before reaching around him, grabbing a finished Snowman, presenting it to his mouth in place of your own. “I baked and decorated this one myself.” You grinned at him, a glitter of pride in your eyes.

“Oh, did you?” He cooed, opening his mouth to admit the round biscuit of white icing, adorned with two black chocolate pearls for eyes and smaller black sugar pearls for a mouth. It had a carrot nose, made of orange icing and the upper crown of the biscuit was covered in purple, blue and white hundreds and thousands, then outlined with silvery snowflake-shaped sprinkles.

Taking the biscuit from you, Henry nibbled on it, already knowing it would be delicious, since you had made it with his family's age-old recipe. “You know.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “I can't wait to share these with our little guy.” He said, smirking down at the bake, before glancing around the kitchen.

“Well, technically, I've already done that.” You giggle, running your hand over the globe of your belly.

Henry snorted loudly, his smirk growing. “You have me there, my love.” He replied, finishing his treat off, reaching out to lay his hand on your stomach as he saw the moments of your son shift, pressing either an elbow or knee out. “Still trips me out to see him move inside of you.” He commented, feeling something around nudge against his palm.

“You should feel it from this end.” You huffed, making a face at the kicks as he tumbled about, prodding a heel into your ribs and a shoulder into your slowly screaming bladder. “Poor bud is running out of space in there.” You cooed, moving your hand to cup the underside of your stomach.

“That he is.” He agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly. “But, soon he'll be out here with us.”

“Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill.”

A cold chill washed down Henry's back, making the little hairs on his neck stand up as he straightened. “Mum.” He squeaked, looking at her over your shoulder.

“You know the rules of setting foot in my kitchen, while we bake.” Marianne scolded her second youngest.

“I do.” He nodded, biting his lip as he half smirked at her. “I was just checking up on her and our little one.” He explained, motioning to you.

Marianne's gaze shifted, her soft and kind blue eyes looking you over. She had noticed the few contractions you'd experience while helping her bake, and had sharpened her eye on you even more. Everyone in the family had a side eye on you it seemed, with your due date so nearby, like they were concerned you would pop like a water balloon.

“I'm fine.” You sighed softly, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Then, you can pop out of our kitchen.” Marianne said, cocking a brow at her son.

You chuckled, loving the nonchalance she had. “We'll see you later, my dear.” You cooed at him, kissing the corner of his mouth, tasting the sugar on his lips and inciting a need for another cookie from your stash. “Off you go.” You giggled, patting him on the chest and set your eyes on your task.

Henry looked at his mother with a pointed look, gesturing towards you, to which Marianne answered with a roll of her eyes and picked up a sheet of cookies needing to go into the oven.

“My back is to you, Henry, not my senses.” You shot over your shoulder, cutting out more cookies from the dough.

“Christ alive, our son has his work cut out for him.” He chuckled, winking at you as he turned to leave and rejoin his brothers and dad in the living room.

You looked over at Marianne and laughed, your mother-in-law joining in, the two of you amused he didn't realize you'd seen her roll her eyes.

“That boy.” Marianne chuckled, shaking her head as she moved to stand beside you, helping portion out the raw dough.

“He's freaked out.” You commented, gently laying a Santa on the sheet.

“Understandably.” She answered, wielding the snowflake cutter with skill. “The first baby is always the most stressful, and Henry's wanted to be a father for a very long time.”

“I know he has.” You nodded, feeling your stomach lightly bump the edge of the counter. “I'm happy and excited for our little one.” You told her, wadding up the scrap dough, then picked up a rolling pin. “I'm definitely ready not to be pregnant anymore.” You snorted, smiling faintly.

“And your worries?” Marianne asked, tilting her head at you, without pausing her work.

You drew in a slow, deep breath. “I'm worried about the labor. I'm terrified about whether or not I'll make a good parent.” You confessed to her, letting your breath out. “I know Henry will, he's incredible with kids. I love watching him with his younger fans, with his nieces and nephews.” You gush, grinning at the flashes of memories. “Seeing him hold Ellie, when we first met her--” You shook your head, a bubble of emotions overwhelming you for a moment, til you cleared your throat.

“You'll be a great mother.” Marianne reassured you, running her hand up and down your back. “You have nothing to worry about there. You'll have me and your mum to help you, as well as Heather and all the other girls.”

“I know.” You nodded, resting your shoulder against hers. “And I appreciate it, with all my heart.”

“Why don't you go upstairs, to Henry's old room, and rest for a bit?” She suggested to you. “I can finish the cookies with Heather.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, glancing around the organized chaos of the kitchen.

“Yes.” She nodded, resting her hands on your shoulders and turning you away from the counter. “You and my grandson need all the rest you can get.” She directed you towards the entry of the kitchen. “Soon, you won't have it.”

Henry saw his mum guiding you and instantly jumped up from the couch, where he sat beside his brother Simon. “Are you all right, honey?” He cooed, his handsome face pinching.

“She's fine, Henry.” Marianne replied, looking up at him. “She just needs to rest a bit. Take her upstairs.”

“All right.” He nodded, taking your arm and showed you upstairs to the bedroom that was his as a kid. “Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe.” He asked, helping you lay back on the made, full-size bed.

“I'm all right, Puppy.” You sighed, rubbing your face.

“What's wrong, honey?” He asked, pulling up a chair from the desk in his room and sat down in front of you.

“Nothing's wrong.” You replied, sighing, flexing your plump toes as Henry grasped your foot in his hands. “I'm just tired and sore.” You told him, closing your eyes as you let out a soft moan, feeling Henry's thumbs work your arch.

“I got the Dad Talk from my dad and brothers.” He chuckled, gently touching the tip of your toes, each painted a cute red color, that he had done himself about a week before.

He had started giving you little at home, medi-pedis to treat you to something nice. Though, it had taken him a couple tries to get painting your nails down. Admitting it wasn't as simple as painting his Warhammer Minis, like he'd thought.

You giggled back, smirking. “Did they?” You hummed, letting your eyes fall shut. “Any good advice?”

“Um, Simon said that I should explain my job to him as soon as we think he can understand it.” Henry recalled, biting his lip with an amused smirk pulling across his mouth. “So, we don't have another Thomas Incident on our hands.”

“My dad's Sherlock Holmes!” You replied, laughing aloud. “Or god-knows who else!”

“Exactly.” He nodded, amused by it too. “My dad suggested, should we have any more kids, to have girls, that way it doesn't continue on the Cavill boy madness, like dead arms and throwing each other off the couch.”

“I would like, at least, one girl, anyway.” You told him, laying your hand on your stomach, feeling your son shift and kick again, wincing as he did.

“Same.” He smirked, as excited as he was for a son, he had wanted a girl too. “Maybe the next one.”

“Mmm.” You hummed back, falling silent and drifting slightly.

Taking the hint, Henry rested your legs in his lap and leaned back, closing his own eyes to rest. Both of you were exhausted from the months of preparation for the baby, all the worrying about if you would be good parents and protecting your son against the world of social media and paparazzi. But the pair of you had only laid there for twenty or so minutes, before you jerked at a sharp pain, inadvertently kicking Henry in the stomach as you did.

Henry gasped and groaned at the blow, doubling over. “Babe?” He rasped, frowning across at you, finding you half sitting up, hand cupping the underside of your stomach with a look of shocked horror on your face. “What's wron—oh shit!” He snapped, seeing the wet patch seeping through your leggings and onto the duvet on the bed.

“Was that--”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, gulping thickly.

“It's okay, all right.” He nodded, running both hands through his curls. “Up we go.” He said, holding his shaking hands out to you, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Broke your water on my childhood bed.” He commented offhandedly, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“It is where we had our first kiss.” You added, lifting a brow at him. “Why not this too!”

“Mum!” Henry called out as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “We have to go.” He said as Marianne rounded the corner from the living room. “Someone's water broke.”

“Oh gosh!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Go hurry!” She shooed the two of you towards the door, before spinning on her feet. “Code blue everybody!” She shouted at the family gathered in the living room, snapping them into gear, sending brothers and in-laws scrambling everywhere.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked as he helped you buckle your seatbelt.

“Like I just peed myself.” You snorted, clutching your belly. “Henry.” You cooed at him, watching him make jerky movements but not move from your side. “Hen!” You called, reaching out to grab his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

“Huh?” He whimpered, blinking a few times.

“My shoes are still in the house.” You informed him, offering your sweet partner a smile.

“Oh right!” He nodded, kissing your hand and backing away to close your door, then raced back inside, running into a gaggle of his family fighting to put on shoes and coats. “Excuse me, pardon me!” He barked, diving into the huddle, scrabbling for your shoes.

“Henry!” Nik shouted after him.

“I forgot her shoes!” Henry yelled over his shoulder, pelting back to the car. “Got them!” He smiled, sliding home into the driver's seat and dropping them onto the center console. “I'll put them on you, when we get to the hospital.” He told you, starting the car and pulling away from the curb, while ordering Alexa to map the route to Jersey General Hospital, the very hospital where he and his brothers had been born.

“Speed limit, Cavill!” You reminded him, frowning.

“Baby!”

“He's not going to pop out right now!!”

“He could!

“Between the two of us, Hank, I'm damn sure he's not!” You snapped back, through a contraction. “Deep b-breaths! ” You wheezed, through the pain.

“Relax your shoulders, don't clench your jaw, take a deep breath in....and let it out!” Henry reciting your Douala and doing the technique with you. “Amazing, baby doll. I'm so proud of you.”

“Jesus Christ on a motorbike.” You sighed as the pain faded. “We're waiting at least three years before we have our daughter.” You panted over at him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Henry laughed, holding his hand out to you. “Whatever you want.”

“I know what we should name him.” You said, softly.

“Oh?” He replied, pulling into the hospital parking lot. “What?”

You looked over at him, your expression soft. “I want to name him, Charlie.” You told him, biting the corner of your lip, you'd put a lot of consideration into it over your pregnancy. “We wouldn't have met, if your brother didn't nag you to come talk to me at that club.”

Biting his lip, a heart shaped lump thumping in his throat. “You're right.” He whispered; voice raw.

Charlie had prodded him for an hour, while supplying him with shots of liquid courage, to finally cross the club you both were in. You were with your friends, blowing off steam after a long work week, and Henry, Charlie and two other friends of Henry's were just hanging out, since he was in town and not working on any projects.

He never forgot the look on your friends' faces as he approached your table, recognizing him, melting into the dark leather of your corner booth and mumbling to each other with hungry, googly eyes. But you, while surprised a celeb was approaching you, hadn't fawned over him, like they did. You'd kept your cool, with jittery insides. Henry politely acknowledged everyone at the table, but his blue eyes were set on you. He asked, trying to have a persona of cool and calm, if he could get you a drink, noting on the way over, yours was empty, and with relief, you'd said yes. So, you dislodged yourself from your friends and followed him to the bar. Striking up a conversation with him, that moved to an empty table, after getting your drinks and lasted until the announcement the club was closing, at two am.

Neither of you had wanted to move apart, but it was late and you both knew it. So, you exchanged numbers and texted while you got yourselves home, then fell asleep. Making the promise to have a proper dinner the next day.

All of which snowballed to this moment. Sitting in the car at the hospital, married and staring at each other between contractions, discussing the name you wanted for your first born, for your son.

“It's perfect.” He nodded, reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could ask for nothing more for Christmas, than you and our son, for Charlie.” He choked up, leaning across to kiss you deeply.

@winter2112rose / @littlefreya / @kemillyfreitas / @thereisa8ella / @courtlynwriter / @starfirewildheart / @beck07990 / @goldenirishpotato / @pipsqueakkitten

#viking-raider fics #A Christmas Miracle #A Christmas Miracle *Fic*#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill RPF #British Actor RPF #Fluff #Cotton Candy Fluff #Christmas Fluff #Christmas Story #Christmas Fic #new fic #henrycavill #In-Laws

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zekie78 · 4 months

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[𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰, 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘏𝘊, 𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵]

Life was totally against you, you had been born on a somewhat small island, your only friends were your neighbors' children but they were very limited, you had always dreamed of one day going to the sea.

Your dream was to travel, know, see, live experiences although well, every day you were always on the shore of the beach watching the blue sea, just waiting for the moment, the opportunity to sail. In that infinite sea

One day, while it was almost your time to go do your homework, you were looking at the sea as always, the thing was that from the distance you could see a... Ship? Yes it was a ship but the closer it got You were more curious because you had never seen a ship with a lion on the front and that was how you saw them... The dreaded straw hat crew, yes obviously even though you were retired you always got the newspaper so the moment you saw a man in a red jacket get off the boat followed by a man with a pointy nose and a reindeer (Never confuse him with a raccoon) You were shocked, you had never thought about seeing the Straw Hat Captain Monkey D. Luffy.

He looked at you and smiled, that smile that would make the sun look like a candle and he asked you the name of the island... You gave it to him and from there he ran off to explode followed by both of you...

What you didn't know is that while you were telling him the name of the island, he would stare at you very intently, but his desire for adventure got the better of him, something that didn't happen to his crew who began to see you With that same curiosity

Each one of the crew went down to catch up with their captain but each one took the time to see you, they passed by you and with that fixed gaze like a hawk towards a mouse . You thought it would all end there but before you said anything else, a certain You saw how the captain came back because he didn't know where to go, so he saw that you were there and said "Hey, you guide us on this island!" You were going to protest but you felt the man with the three katanas grab your arm and start pulling you. Where was their captain, from there with the look that said you had to do it... Your cowardly side came out and you began to take them around your little island.

"what is your name?" It was the Black Haired woman's question who was Nico Robin. "Y/N," that's all you answered as they walked, everyone started asking you questions about where you lived, what you'd like to do. Your favorite food (First alarm that you didn't detect) that's when they arrived at the center of the island and when you said you were going to leave, you were only grabbed again, this time for Sanji "The Captain said you would guide us around the WHOLE island" (Second alarm that you didn't notice)

You sighed and from there you went all afternoon with the straw hats, each one seemed to pull you and take you to different places, those who already knew you had that doubt as to why you were with them but they decided to leave it aside

With Luffy you went to every food stall wanting to try everything.

Zoro was more likely to get lost at every moment so you had to direct him well.

sanji I was just looking at the food places and some beautiful lady

Nami "asked you for the favor" of taking her to the clothing stores as well as Robin to the bookstores.

Usopp only had you his maid Telling his adventures, you had obviously seen that they were lies

Brook had disappear

Chooper It was more of searching and searching for a cotton candy stand

So you spent the afternoon with each one, sometimes with all of them, some time with a couple or with just one, so wanting to know even more about you, it fell The night and it was time to go to dinner, At that point they invite you to dinner for having accompanied them, you were already leaving but technically they dragged you to the Thousand Sunny, the chef They prepared perhaps the best dishes you had ever tasted in your life, so I spent the night, they offered you a drink, they taught you how to sing Binks Sake And it was the moment when you expressed yourself and your desire and dream of traveling that way only Luffy said

"If you want to travel, join my crew!" You were in shock for a few seconds... So out of inertia you raised and lowered your head (Error) since he took it as a yes and smiled

It was time to go, it was already quite late, you had already told them that you had to go home, you said it while you were getting up.And with caution you were moving away from them little by little... Something that Luffy didn't like that So he stretched out his arm and caught you, he pulled you closer to him and you felt the others crowd around you.

"You said yes, now you're my Nakama" You saw how everyone nodded, you didn't have the strength to say anything... Not even running, not screaming, nothing... So Luffy sat you next to him and the banquet continued. After a few hours, the alcohol took effect and you fell further.Not before seeing how everyone smiled

The next morning, your eyes opened You see that you are not in your bed at home so it was not a dream, you immediately got up, went out and no longer saw Your island, only sea...

"You are going to fulfill your dream" They were Ussop's words when he saw you, just as you were in a state of disbelief... Yesterday you were just looking at the sea and today, you are in.

You said no like that, but immediately, several of them came out and looked at you... And they just said in unison

"You should stay with us"

(Third red flag you didn't see, you're out and you're with them forever)

#yandere strawhats #strawhats x reader #oc #gender neutral reader #yandere one piece #yandere strawhats x reader

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okay-j-hannah · 1 year

Text

A Merchant Sailor

Pirates of the Caribbean : Fic

Will Turner x Reader

Word Count: 3061

Warnings: Swarthy pirates fighting each other... Will being lied to... Will also being a sweetheart

Request: “This is me absolutely begging and foaming at the mouth for you to write a Will Turner x reader. I’m fine with fluff or smut lmao. I have a couple ideas if you also want to write multiple (or blend them into 1), you totally don’t have to though. Being Jacks sister but also constantly making berth at Port Royale when you were younger, results in a close friendship between you and a certain Mr. Will Turner. The killer is, you always told Will your brother was a merchant and that you would accompany him on his trips. In reality, you were always off doing pirate things with Jack. Consequently, the day Jack broke into Mr. Brown’s smithery, you later arrived with Will. This resulted in a 2 on 1 fight (or maybe not) with a lot of confused looks being shared between Jack and yourself. Plus Will defending your honor” @gingerdissapointment

A/N: Pretending to be a merchant, you befriend Will Turner as you keep your pirating a secret, until your brother forces you to reveal the truth

Her sword clashed terribly with the swarthy pirates of the East Atlantic, fighting over hidden treasure beneath the sandy shores of a neutral island. She kicked up the dry sand, silencing the battle cry of the enemy.

He spit and scratched at his eyes as (Y/N) jabbed the sword into his stomach, shoving him aside. Whipping around the beach, Jack pranced away from a group of opposing pirates. She rolled her eyes at his wailing.

“For the love…” she ran after her brother, realizing that with the crew winning the battle, the other pirates were running for Jack. In his hands lay the key to the gold.

She waved off Cotton’s parrot and threw a dagger at Marty, the blade sticking into the sand, to give him a chance to cut the ropes around his wrists. Ahead was Jack and a quartet of pirates splashing along the shore.

The erratic steps of their captain sent seawater cascading onto his pursuers. The noise was enough cover for (Y/N) to pull another dagger from her many pockets and throw it at the furthest pirate. It sunk into the back of the assailants neck, sending him splashing into the sandy water.

The remaining three didn’t notice the bigger splash as they continued their cries of pursuit. (Y/N) was gaining on them, searching for another object to throw at them, silently thanking her brother for his distracting, wild methods of escape.

She spotted a mound of rock creeping out of the ocean and as they neared it, she grasped a pockmarked rock from the thick, muddy sand. Grunting from the momentum, she swung her arm wide and launched the weathered stone at the next pirate. She successfully cracked the top of his skull, forcing him to fall froward into the sea and salt.

The thunk of his unconscious body alerted his crewmate, a bare chested man with sunburnt skin. He seemed momentarily confused to see a much younger girl running at him.

It was enough of a distraction that he didn’t react to the elbow she rammed into him. With the speed of her steps it was the right amount of force to throw him from his feet. She slashed her sword across his legs as she tumbled forward, hopefully keeping him incapacitated and unable to follow further.

Adrenaline coursed past the burning of her muscles as she screamed at her brother, “I swear to God you will be carrying me back to the ship after I save your pitchy drunken arse!”

She reached the last assailant, tackling him into the salty shore. Her cry of accusation spoke through Jack’s panic, making him peek behind his shoulder and then stop altogether, completely perplexed as to why all four pirates chasing him just moments before were all in the seawater.

But a second longer he realized it was his little sister rolling around with the final pirate, splashing wet sand and salty water all around them.

“Oh,” Jack gasped, winded from his erratic run, “The cursed stowaway decides to be helpful.”

“Bastard,” she growled, finally pummeling the hilt of her sword against the pirates temple. “I was never a stowaway.”

Jack made a disgusted face as the pirate’s flailing limbs stilled against the shore. “You disturb me.”

“Likewise,” she breathed heavy, rising to her feet completely soaked and flecked with sand. “Do you run like that on purpose?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He pushed past her, extracting the old rusty key needed for the hidden treasure of the island.

She wobbled on her shaky legs, “You look like you’re running on hot coals, prancing on your tiptoes like that.”

They followed their footsteps quickly being washed away by the frothy waves. They passed over the rocky pockmarked mound and after pausing in her bickering with her brother, found something half submerged in the water.

Saltwater seeping into her boots, she crouched and extracted a massive opalescent seashell. It glimmered in a rainbow of colors with the sunlight warming the face of it. It was peach and coral and lavender and seafoam and crystal blue.

It made her chapped lips smile at finding another relic of the ocean for her best friend.

During the many adventures of Jack Sparrow and his stubborn little sister, they managed a few trips to the provenance of Port Royal. There (Y/N) had befriended a young blacksmith apprentice.

At the age of thirteen she was mastering the art of pickpocketing and stealing small objects from markets and stores. On her way to swipe a few daggers from the outside barrel, Will Turner had come out with grease stained hands and a soot covered face.

She quickly dropped the blades back in the barrel.

Will looked her up and down, a young lad of her similar age. “Can I help you?” He eyed the hand she hid behind her back.

“Just… looking for a gift,” she cleared her throat, “For my brother.”

“You want to give him a sword?” Will rubbed his dirty hands along his apprentice apron, “Is he a part of the Navy?”

She blinked a few times, “He’s a merchant. We sail to different ports to sell our goods.”

The answer seemed to put him more at ease. He believed her. “I could see where a sword might be helpful. There are less friendly types along distant shores – pirates and the like.”

She nodded slowly.

There was a pause before he continued, “I’m William Turner.” He seemed bashful to extend his grimy hand.

She gave a shy smile, weeks at sea with a motely crew and her pirate brother made her yearn for friends and company. She slowly accepted his hand, “I’m (Y/N).”

“And your surname?”

“Just (Y/N),” she smiled.

He smiled back, “It’s not proper to call a lady by her first name.”

She almost gawked – it was the most manners she’d seen in years, “I have no other name.”

“Your family name?” he asked, a little line appearing between his brows. “What of your brother?”

“We were orphaned at a young age,” she shrugged, “There was no record of our full titles.”

Will nodded solemnly, “I’m sorry.”

She looked towards the ground, “I’ll tell my brother of your smithery. Perhaps we’ll visit again.”

A desire to give her more of a reason to see him again, Will extracted a freshly polished sword from the wall. “Here, use this for your gift.”

“But I haven’t any money,” she said quietly.

“Then I’m gifting it to you,” he grinned, “I’m learning to make swords, I’ll just make another to replace this one.”

She laughed, “Thank you, Mr. Turner. I should do well to return the favor in the future.”

He passed over the hilt, “I look forward to our next meeting, Miss…” He seemed to struggle for a moment, “Miss. (Y/N).”

Five years had passed since that initial meeting and at reaching adolescence, (Y/N) was excitedly walking the streets of Port Royal to find the smithery. Over the years she had developed the habit of collecting trinkets and objects of her travels to show Will.

He still believed her to be a merchant, learning the trade from her honorable elder brother. And he found himself looking hopefully towards the white sails of the docks more than once to see her briny steps.

He longed for her visits, growing accustomed to her witty banter, wild stories, and lovely smile. And in the meantime, he practiced the art of black smithery and fashioned her intricate and deadly weapons, hoping to be of help as she sold them at the next port.

In reality (Y/N) was using these gifted weapons in her adventures pillaging islands and seeking treasure with her pirate crew.

To make herself feel somewhat better about all the lying, she sought to gift bits of all the gold and treasure she found to Will. He always got so excited to see things from beyond the shores of Port Royal.

“Mr. Turner,” she said orderly, “The coals have gone cold. What are you doing dallying about?”

Will turned from his workshop table, smile already on his clean shaven face. The summer had been kind to him, growing a couple inches and broadening his shoulders since the last time they met.

“Miss. (Y/N),” he said quietly, as if relieved she had come back at all. It was easy to imagine horrors befalling her while at sea, “You can’t imagine how good it is to see you.”

They hugged each other, (Y/N) laughing and Will grinning. He apologized for getting soot on her cheek, attempting to rub it away, “I’m so sorry.”

“Not at all,” she waved his fingers away, not wishing to have him feel how flushed the action made her.

He seemed in a similar state as a pink color flooded high on his cheekbones. “You’ve brought me more souvenirs?” he said as he spotted the bundle under her arm.

“Yes,” she said eagerly, “You’ll never believe what I found.” She went to the workshop table and laid out a roll of leathery animal skin, a few jagged shark teeth, and the opalescent seashell she found on her last adventure.

“Did you trade for some shark?” he laughed, touching the dried, scaly shark skin.

(Y/N) smiled, remembering the time she killed the reef shark while circling the coral shoreline of a tiny island. She was alone in a paddleboat and saw the opportunity to stick her sword through the predators skull.

“Yes, I’d say it was a rather lucky trade. Can’t you use this skin to make sword handles?”

He nodded, “That I can.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye, shy in how much he wanted to look. He never knew how long it would be between visits and while she was there he wanted to soak up every second.

“How long are you here?” he asked, hopefully.

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, “Three days.”

Will sighed, nodding to himself, “Well then, we’ll just have to make the most of the next three days.” He untied his apron and made sure the furnace was cut off from heating more fuel.

“What is there to do that we haven’t already done?” she laughed, remembering days of captaining sailboats, sword fighting in the square, climbing palm trees, and catching crabs.

Will seemed undeterred by the question, “There’s plenty to do. We haven’t swum in the pools by the cove. We haven’t gone for tea in town. We haven’t ever attended the Governor’s Ball before.”

“The Governor’s Ball,” she scoffed, “Please, Will – a merchant has no place at a ball.” A pirate has no place near the highest powers of the British garrison.

“Don’t worry, I know people in town. We can find you a dress and I can teach you anything you’re worried about.” He returned to her side and took her hands, “Let me take you dancing.”

She looked at him in wonder, “You’d take me dress shopping?”

He smiled and gave a quiet nod, “I figured we’re not kids anymore, (Y/N). We could… we could go to a ball together.”

She squeezed his hands a bit tighter, “All right,” she smiled, “All right, but only if we can still go hunting for coconuts and go horseback riding through the town.”

“Whatever you want,” he grinned, “I’d go pirating just to spend another day with you.”

She froze, still with a smile on her face, “Would you really?”

He shrugged, “Maybe.”

~~~

A few years later and (Y/N) had found herself back in Port Royal and scouring the streets for her idiot brother.

After a long time coming mutiny from Barbossa, Jack was left stranded with nothing but a pistol. (Y/N) having fought and spit and destroyed half the Black Pearl to keep the mutiny from happening, she was left to the brig.

As skillful as she was, (Y/N) was out of the prison within a day, finding her way to a paddleboat and rowing for the remote island Jack was on. She was soon picked up by a real merchant boat that passed rumors of a peculiar wily man telling stories of roped sea turtles.

It led her to the nearest ports to where she learned Jack had stolen a sailboat that was headed to Port Royal.

And there she was in search of the pirate, hoping she could stop him before he did anything terribly stupid.

She spotted a curious number of redcoats marching in the streets. She tried to keep them from her mind as she nodded to some of the shopkeepers that recognized her from previous visits.

That was until she noticed a heavily scarfed man sneaking into the smithery, beads and all. She groaned, running for the shop.

“Jack,” she whispered, closing the wooden door behind her with a click of the lock. “What the devil are you doing here?”

He was hanging by the cogs of the donkey operated machine, accomplishing his goal of breaking his chained wrists apart.

“(Y/N)?” he said, “How did you find me?” He peered over his shoulder as if to see the army it must’ve taken to track him down to Port Royal.

She rolled her eyes, “After years pirating with me you still doubt my capabilities. I wasn’t about to stay on the Pearl with Barbossa and his stupid monkey.”

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a problem,” he said, brandishing the cuffs on his wrists.

“I can see that,” she cursed, hands on her hips, “You’ve got the entire British army knocking down every door.”

Speaking of which, someone was coming through the front.

“Damn,” (Y/N) whispered, feeling her brother drag her into a hiding place.

It was Will coming home, no doubt, from dropping off another well forged sword. He settled into the shop, inspecting his tools when he came upon a hat.

A pirate hat.

(Y/N) glared at her brother and bared her teeth, “You piss poor excuse for a pirate.”

Jack leapt from his hiding place, sword in hand to take back what was his. He directed the blade at Will’s chest.

“You’re the one they’re hunting,” Will said. “The pirate.”

“You seem somewhat familiar – have I threatened you before?”

(Y/N) smacked her face with a hand, scrounging for the nearest sword, which wasn’t hard considering they were in a blacksmith. She watched carefully as Will and Jack shared a few feints and parries with their swords.

She was impressed to see that Will had continued to practice his swordplay.

It wasn’t until a hurling sword stuck itself in the door that (Y/N) made her appearance.

“Will, stop!” she cried, brandishing her weapon, “Please, leave him alone.”

“(Y/N)?” he questioned, focus momentarily off his target, “When did you get to Port Royal?”

Jack had extracted his own sword, “Come along, dearest. It’s best we leave.”

Will flipped his head between the pair of them, “Excuse me?”

“I’m really sorry about this, Will.” She swallowed hard, sidestepping towards the window as Jack did the same, “But we need to go.”

“You and…?” he frowned, “The pirate?”

“My brother.”

Stunned, Will almost missed the attack coming from Jack. He swooped to the furnace and pulled out a red hot sword, blocking the incoming blow.

(Y/N) screamed, “Jack! Leave him alone!”

The pair of them struck and danced and parried around the forge – Will angrier than (Y/N) had ever seen him.

“How do you know (Y/N)?” he demanded.

Jack made a face as he blocked another blade, “How do you know (Y/N)?”

“He’s my brother, Will,” she cried, stomping her way to where she might join the swordfight. “I lied about him being a merchant.”

“A merchant,” Jack grimaced, “Could’ve done better with the lying, love.”

“(Y/N) is not a liar,” Will gained a few steps with his hard hitting blows, “She is an honest woman and a fair fighter.”

Her sword came between them, directing Will’s into the ground, “I’m sorry, Will.”

He was breathing heavy, bewildered, “But he’s a pirate.”

Jack pointed his sword in (Y/N)’s direction, exasperated, “SHE’S a pirate!”

Will gave him a scathing glare before completely disregarding his weapon and tackling Jack to the ground. They rolled around the hay and dirt as (Y/N) shouted at them.

“This is not how to handle a misunderstanding, Will! Jack, pull yourself together with what little dignity you have left. For God’s sake…” She planted herself between the brawling pair and shoved Jack to the side, keeping him from launching a counterattack.

“What is he so hellbent on protecting your name for?” Jack wheezed, using one of his many scarves to dab at his neck.

Will was boiling, “(Y/N) is an honorable woman and I won’t have you slander her name with titles like pirate. She is respectable and good and not at all capable of what you’re suggesting.” He looked towards (Y/N), “I refuse to think of the most important person to me as a criminal.”

(Y/N)’s mouth fell open, “Will…”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, mate,” Jack said, twirling his sword around, “But she’s my sister. And by association – a pirate.”

Will let his arms hang limp at his sides, staring at (Y/N)’s feet – unable to meet her eyes. “Is that true?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be welcome if I told you what I really was,” she grimaced, “I didn’t plan on us becoming friends.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, “All those gifts you gave me…”

“Listen, Will…” she didn’t dare take a step forward, “I know you’re mad. But I never lied about anything else. I never pretended around you. This is me, pirate or not. You know me. And this is not how I would’ve told you, but for the sake of me not getting hanged today – could you please let us go.”

Will looked deep in an inner turmoil, fists clenching as he fought over her words. Jack was still trying to yank out the sword pinning the door closed.

“I haven’t forgiven you…” he muttered, letting out a great sigh, “But there’s a path out back you can take for the docks.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Thank you.” She placed a hand on his arm while on her way out. “I’ll come find you tonight.”

He clenched his jaw, but finally looked at her, “Just come back safe.”

Her heart beat a little harder, a little warmer, “I will.”

~~~

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