#unloading my annoyance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-kr8tor · 1 month

Text

Sink or Swim II

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 13 II >>> CHAPTER 14

The air gets warmer as Collette giggles next to you. Arm in arm, John leads the way with a pout from the teasing his sister is throwing at him. Literally, she throws hazelnut shells at him. It sticks in his curls, he shakes his head as shavings of browns fall off like snowflakes.

“I am about to say a rude word,” he says through annoyance.

“Say it!” Collette giggles again, ragging on her brother.

“You f—” John pauses, the three of you stop right in front of the manor. “What's all this?”

A dozen or so carriages are parked up front, filled to the brim with flowers and crates upon crates of ingredients. The smell of saffron and citrus hits your senses. The staff busy themselves with unloading the supplies, frantic feet skedaddling in and out of the manor.

“Are we having a party?” you ask, tilting your head at a peculiar yellow spiky fruit.

“Guess so.” John scratches his head, “why didn't they take the back entrance?”

“Maybe they're in a hurry?” Co utters next to you, already leading you inside as you stare curiously at the weird fruit.

“It’s a pineapple, dear cousin. Come on, you'll miss breakfast.”

“Whatever this party is for, mother and father are going all out.” John sighs out, following close, dodging a staff member holding a tray with hundreds of plates stacked on it.

You have an idea on what this party is for, or who it's for. But you wish that's not the case.

Entering the dining room, your uncle sits at the head of the table, hands cradling his heavy head, groaning loudly at the noises just outside the room. Your aunt seems unbothered, eating her plate of fruit silently.

They don't look up when their children greet them both. They only nod in their seats, not even bothering to look at them. You feel bad for the siblings but they don't seem to be concerned by it at all.

“Sit next to me please!” Collette chirpily says, patting the seat next to her.

The dining room is huge, fitting well with the rest of the manor. Narra floors and numerous paintings adorn the old walls. The table is the longest one you've ever seen, strong mahogany standing the test of time.

As you sit down on the plush seat, your aunt spares you a pointed look. More than what she gave her own children.

“Where's Miguel?” You bravely ask above the silence. “And Lyla?”

Frederick rubs harshly at his face before staring you down with his hungover eyes. “Miguel went out on a walk. And who's the other one?”

“Nevermind.” You take a breath.

A man dressed impeccably in a fancy suit, stands next to you. He clears his throat, looking at you through his nose.

“How do you like your eggs…” he thinks for a moment. “...my lady?”

“Oh,” you're suddenly nervous as the whole table waits for your answer with bated breath. “What are my options?”

“Everything.” He flatly says, hands tucked behind his back.

John looks at you across the table, mouthing something. You don't understand what he's trying to say to you, it looks like he's trying to say ‘collette’ or ‘goblet’ by the looks of it.

You shake your head and say, “I'll have an omelette.”

“Very good, my lady.” He says as he walks out with measured steps.

John subtly gives you a thumbs up, and you have no idea why.

Frederick chokes on nothing. You think he's about to get sick but he chugs water before he can. He blinks rapidly like he's trying to wake himself up.

“Oh,” he says, only now noticing his own children in the room. “Where did you two go off to?”

“The birds, with Y/N.” John monotonously says while he stabs his egg.

“That time of the year huh? I haven't noticed.” Frederick’s words falter.

Collette clears her throat. “Y/N told us about her time at sea! She's very brave.”

“She got shot.” John continues for her with a proud smile.

In truth, you told them just the tip of the iceberg. Not even half of it, you spared all the important details of it, names of people and places, the cruelest parts of it and the crew you've come to see as family and him. You excluded him in the story because you promised to him a long time ago that you'll keep his and the crew's secrets. You intend to honour it until you're in the grave.

“Oh I've heard,” your aunt says in a stiff tone.

“You know I've once encountered pirates.” Frederick says whilst he picks at his fruit. “While I was sailing the hazelside ship, they were a rowdy lot. Rowdier than I am!” He exclaims, “in the end, father didn't pay for my ransom so they just brought me back to the docks after three weeks.” Chuckling, his face falls at the memory. “Well anyway, we have a ship gathering dust in the capital’s docks. She's a beut! You might appreciate her more, dear niece.”

You inhale sharply, tucking the information in the back of your mind. “What is she called?”

“The Osprey.”

“We've only been aboard once, and we didn't even sail!” Collette recalls. “Maybe you can sail it with us!”

John grins excitedly, “yes! That would be amazing!”

“No.” Their mother says before you could say anything. “It’s too dangerous. The waters are plagued by pirates and god knows what.” Her daughter’s face falls. “No.” she says for emphasis.

Your omelette arrives, the butler gives you a nod and your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets at how appetizing it is. The egg is fluffy, cooked to perfection with cheese melting inside. Vegetables and meat are tucked aplenty, you can't help but dig in immediately.

As you gorge yourself, the conversation has ceased. The noble family are eating quietly, no words exchanged, not even an awkward one. Not when their mother dearest glares at her pomegranate.

You finish off your omelette, and a bowl of pomegranate seeds is laid in front of you, replacing the finished plate. Remembering the last time you ate it, and how the juice ran down your arm as he ate next to you, as his warmth spread through you.

Now you're the one frowning at the fruit.

So instead of eating it, you rekindle the conversation. “Are we having a party?”

With your question, Frederick perks up at the mere mention of it. As if he's not suffering from a hangover, he claps his hands together, a grin spreading across his lips.

“Yes! The party, oh I almost forgot!” He beams at you. “It's for you, remember? Back at the palace?”

“I didn't know you were serious.” You chuckle nervously. A party full of aristocrats is the last thing you want or need.

“Oh, I'm at my most serious when I'm drunk!” He guffaws loudly, “we're introducing you to society! It has to be huge—!” Your uncle pauses, his eyes look behind you, his smile faltering slightly, mouth clamping shut.

“What's this about a party?” Miguel stands behind you, freshly pressed dress shirt tucked neatly inside his pants, hair damp and eyes fully rested. He's the exact opposite of you who hasn't rested a wink. Nodding a greeting at you, he places his hand on the back of your chair. “Sleep well?” He asks like he can't see the tiredness under your eyes.

“Mm-hmm.” You nod.

“Liar.” He winks at you teasingly. Turning towards your uncle, his face turns flat. “Frederick, what party?”

“Just a little get together, O’Hara, nothing fancy don't worry.” he chuckles, hiding from Miguel's stare behind his cup of tea.

Miguel grumbles, chest rumbling at the thought of you surrounded by strangers. Leaning down, he asks you politely. “May I speak with you?”

Looking at him in the corner of your eyes, you speak with a tone that Miguel could only describe as annoyance and with the exact same tone as an angry teenager who didn't get what she wanted.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Always, Y/N.”

“Hmm, of course I do.” You mockingly say. Standing up, you leave the table and the uneaten pomegranate. There's eyes on your back, it's better than knives.

Miguel leads you outside and into an empty sitting room. The entire room is purple, lilacs spread around the room from the settee to the curtains.

“What is it?” You swivel on your feet to turn to him with your arms crossed on your chest.

“A party?” He asks, exasperated.

“Hey, I'm not the one who planned this, Miguel.”

“I know you didn't.” Sighing, he plops himself down on the fluffy settee. “It's just bad timing. I can't be there tonight and the next day.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. “What? You can't leave me here. I just got here, and you promised.”

He's leaving you in the vultures’ den. Granted, your cousins are nicer than you thought they'd be, but you can't say for sure for your aunt and uncle; moreso for all the strangers that will visit tonight. Wrong timing is an understatement.

“I haven't been home in years, Y/N.” Miguel avoids your eyes, he doesn't see the fear in them. “I promised my staff that I'll be home for a couple of days to settle my estate and affairs. I haven't seen to any family matters in a long time. I haven't visited my daughter.”

You sit across from him on the coffee table. Elbows on your knees, ducking down to look at his downturned face.

“You'll be back?” You clearly distrust the man to a point, but he's the only person you know well enough in the entire estate. You don't want him to leave because what if he doesn't come back? What if the nobility eats you alive tonight?

He lifts his face to give you a soft smile, understanding your fear underneath your words. “I'll be back, I promise. I'll only be thirty minutes away, so if you really need to see me you can always get on horseback and come visit me within fifteen.” That eases you a bit. “Besides, I'm leaving Lyla with you, just in case. Mudwood manor is always open to you, Y/N.”

“Alright…just— what do I do? Tonight I mean?”

“Just smile and tell your stories. Feed them bullshit if you want to, just don't let their pompous asses get to you, hm?” He pats your bicep. “Can you survive a couple of days without me?”

“Yes, I think so.” You shrug shakily. “I’ll just tell them the story of how I almost got eaten by a sea monster. I'm sure that's interesting enough.”

Miguel laughs from the belly, the sound bouncing off the purple walls. “That's the kind of bullshit they'd eat up.”

“...sure, bullshit.” You clam up. “Just come back?”

“I'll be back, I promise. I'm not leaving you here alone. Your mother will haunt me to death if I do.” Smiling at you, he pats your head before standing back up. He walks towards the door, he turns back, grinning ear to ear. “I left a present for you in your room. I heard you didn't like the color last time. See you in a couple of days, Y/N.”

With a wave goodbye, he leaves the room. You groan audibly, putting your head in your hands, rubbing the heels of your palms on your eyes until little specks of dust appear in your vision.

You need sleep, maybe it's best that you do before you attend the shit show tonight.

—

Even with your protest, the handmaidens assigned to you scour you clean in the opulent tub. They scrub and scrub until you feel like your skin is about to fall off the bone.

Now clean and free of any grime, you smell like any rich noble could be— strong flowery scent from the numerous spritz of perfume and heavy citrus from the soap they used.

The stockings itches, the corset pinches, making you want to run and get naked in the woods instead. But after seeing the beautiful ruby red gown Miguel gifted you, you feel all the ache from the intense scrubbing fade away. Just a tiny bit anyway.

As you stand in front of the large mirror, you finally see your whole self. All lace and silver ribbons. All elegance and none of the person you once were. You suddenly feel like you're staring at a different person. Drowning in red, and jewels that would have fed you during the times you starved on the road.

“I look like a very large apple.” You say out loud. Your handmaidens stifle a giggle. The dress is so wide that you have to place your hands above it. If you sat down, the dress could probably eat you up.

The women bow at you, stopping them halfway with a frantic wave of your hands, they still do it. You don't blame them for it.

As they leave you alone in your room that makes you feel small, you admire the silver bangle in your arm. The accessory is in the shape of a bird, wings stretched around your wrist, face facing you, beak poking your skin slightly.

You suddenly have an idea when you feel for the pearl that you hid inside your corset. Fishing for it like you hid money down your bust, you take out the dark pearl. It still shines in the low light of the oil lamps. Taking a red thread your handmaids used to fix the fit of the sleeves better, and a pair of scissors, you craft a necklace made from the thread and the pearl.

Tying the thread around the dark pearl using the same knot that James and Hobie taught you, you finish it off by doing it twice around the pearl to secure it properly. Tugging and testing the strength of the three threads woven together, you gingerly tie it around your neck.

It sits prettily atop your clavicle next to your mother's golden necklace. You think it fits well together.

With a soft smile and a sob rising above your chest and a deep inhale, you close your eyes while patting the necklaces in one hand, and in the other, you feel for the dagger hidden inside your stockings.

You could cry but there's a sudden knock at your door. Lyla comes inside the room with a curious look. She whistles, ogling your form.

“I knew you look better in red, because christ, I think I'm falling for you, your grace.”

“Stop,” you look at her through the mirror. She wears a dark blue dress, lace adorning her front and sleeves. Silver stars placed around her neck and ears. “I could say the same for you, Lyla.” You tease back.

“Oho!” She saunters over to you, heels clacking on the polished floors. Placing her cool hands atop your bare shoulders, she coos, “our duchess knows how to flirt back. Guess you do learn everything from the streets.”

You roll your eyes, “I didn't learn that in the streets, Lyla.” Scoffing, you shove her hands off. “You just remind me of someone.”

“Aww,” she pouts. “And here I thought we had something.” Giving you her arm, she smiles genuinely at you. “Ready to wow them, Y/N?”

“God no.” You still take her arm.

—

There's a lot of people, a sea of finely dressed nobles clamoring to talk to you. Amidst the crowd gathering around you, there's a few of them who sneer and turn their heads away from you. They hold their drinks like it's about to shatter in their hands, grips strong and clearly annoyed at the newcomer, who in their minds is trespassing in their small circle of nobility.

You turn down numerous drinks since you want to be ready in case something happens. Or someone doing something they might regret once they see the steel of your dagger.

Miguel was right, entertaining them with stories gets their attention away from questioning you with unsavoury queries. After the sixth crowd hearing the ‘fake’ story of the sea monster, they've dwindled out, finding something else to entertain themselves with.

Lyla filters through the people who want to dance with you. She turns down every person she deems unworthy of your hand. Which is most of the people in the entire ballroom.

Underneath all the stuffiness of the event, the gorgeous ballroom is a pleasant surprise. The ancient walls are decorated with lit candles that dance with the music. There's flowers in every table and corner, it helps mask the scent of cigars filtering through the air. The music crescendos as the dancers in the middle finish off with a twirl and a hop. Their dresses whoosh and flap as they bounce, tulles swishing and heels clacking.

You sip at your glass of water, letting the ice inside cool you down. With the amount of people inside the ballroom, it's getting hard to breathe. You're glad that you planted yourself near the balcony where the breeze outside helps you from passing out from the warm air.

Shaking your now empty glass, the ice clinking inside, you huff. Lyla notices the sound and she promptly takes it from your hand before the condensation drips on your expensive dress.

“Be right back, don't move.” She says, wagging her finger at you.

“Wasn't planning on it.” you say above the loud chatter of the crowd and the music from the orchestra, but not loud enough for the people to notice you unattended.

But someone does notice, he comes walking towards you with wide strides and with a wide smile. He bares a striking resemblance to the king, ash blond hair perfectly coiffed, suit perfectly fitted to his broad form.

You don't notice him at first because you have been watching Colette dance circles around the crowd. Her lilac dress dances with her, the flowers in her hair adds to her beauty. John secretly keeps a watch on her too, he stands near the dessert table, mouth full of macaroons, hand occupied with a flute of champagne.

The stranger escapes your attention. With a tap on your elbow, you almost unsheathe your dagger at the man.

“I'm sorry,” he smiles politely. “Didn't mean to scare you, my lady.”

“Who are you?” You feel for the dagger with your hand above your dress.

“Viscount Eugene Thompson, my lady.” He takes your hand, pressing a kiss above your knuckles. Staring up at you through his lashes, lips still near your hand, he smiles, a smile that could make anyone fall to their knees. But you've seen better. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Thank you?” You nervously glance towards Lyla who's currently eating an entire plate of cream puffs. “How may I help you, viscount?”

“A dance, perhaps?” Leaning away, Eugene waits for your answer. “You haven't been dancing and I've seen you watch the dancefloor with longing. I'm here to remedy that. If you'd do me the honour.”

“Uh… I have a bad leg that is currently not for dancing.”

“I'll help you,” Eugene squeezes your hand softly. “You can stand on my shoes and I'll dance for you. It's bad enough that you can't dance in your own party.”

No one comes to your rescue, meanwhile Lyla is scarfing down all the pastries on the dessert table.

With a deep inhale, you smile politely. “Sure, why not.”

Eugene beams at you like he won first place at a pony show. Guiding you towards the dance floor, you once again feel eyes on you.

“Take my hand, put your feet up on mine, and I'll do the rest.” He whispers softly to you.

With a nod of encouragement from (surprisingly) your aunt, you take his hand and the other placed behind his neck. Carefully and blindly feeling for his shoes, you stand on top of the leather that squishes under your weight. Chest to chest, he looks down at you with his sparkling eyes. Did you have a choice in this? Or did he back you into a corner? You guess you'd never know as he glides around the dancefloor whilst you let him carry you around effortlessly.

There are worse partners to be had in this situation.

“So, duchess—”

“My life at sea was tumultuous but rewarding and I learned a lot of lessons from it.” You recite the script you prepared for yourself.

“Not what I meant, my lady.” Eugene chuckles, “I was going to ask how you're faring in all of this. It must be…a lot.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel embarrassed in front of the charismatic stranger. “It’s a lot, but I'll get used to it, viscount, don't worry about me.”

“Please call me Eugene or even Thompson, just don't call me viscount. It makes me sound old.” He laughs, it's light and honest. The sound fills you with ease.

You smile, “just don't call me duchess or my lady and I'll do just that.”

“As you wish, my la— Y/N,” he tests your name on his tongue. “I can't help but worry, you know. I just inherited my title so I know how it feels. Granted it's not exactly the same but I'm here if you need someone.”

“That’s— thank you, Eugene.” You smile genuinely, he squeezes your hands once, the act flinging memories back into your mind.

“Are you alright?” He asks, concerned. “You look like you're about to cry, is it your leg?” Stopping right in the middle of the room, he flits his eyes all over your face and twitching eye.

“No— I…”

“May I have this dance?” A familiar voice asks, and you feel like you're dreaming, suddenly floating through the clouds as your ears perk up from his voice.

Slowly, you crane your neck to look at him. You swear your heart stopped beating but the mere sight of him brought it back to life.

Hobie gives you the smile he reserves just for you, soft and endearing, all love and affection under the grey eyes you've come to love.

“I think she's done for the night—” Eugene tries to finish but you cut him off once you see Hobie's outstretched hand.

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Yes, you may.” Stepping off Eugene's shoes, you take Hobie's hand without sparing the other man a glance.

In your peripheral vision, you see Eugene smile through his annoyance. But your entire attention goes to the man whose hand you're currently holding, whose hand fits perfectly in your grasp.

“What are you doing here?” You say tearfully, voice breaking. The music hides your cracking voice and the crowd hides your unshed tears.

His calloused hands holding you aren't but a memory anymore.

“‘m sorry, I know you told me not to follow but—”

Laughing, you finally feel whole again. “Captain,” you say it with your whole heart. “Is it bad that I'm glad you did?”

“No,” Hobie lifts you up by your waist to place you atop his own shoes. His hand never left your waist as he dances with you. Letting your warmth fill his entire being, he resists the urge to take you away from the prying crowd. “It's not bad. Did you miss me, scuttlebutt?”

“Aye, I did.” You mumble, but you say the words truthfully. “Why are you here, Hobie?” Uttering his name audibly fills you with glee. “Not like I don't want you to be but—” you finally now notice his fine garb.

With a once over, you ogle him. The suit looks like it's tailored for him, cinching his waist perfectly. Even his shiny leather shoes fit him right. The red waistcoat matches your dress. The dress jacket covers his arms, you silently wish it didn't. A rose is pinned on his lapel, he smells of burgundy and sea salt. Home, you thought. You do miss the leather though. A well placed tophat on his head helps conceal his recognizable hair. You wish to see it again.

You haven't seen him dress like this the entire time you've known him. And based on his stories, he has never worn anything like it either.

He looks good, incredibly good in it, but you know him. And you know that he doesn't feel good in it.

Hobie admires you whilst you do the same. He feels like the fishbone stuck in his throat has finally gone away now that he can finally see you close, touch you and talk to you like he used to. Underneath all the silver and frills, he still sees the real you. But he's prepared to love both.

“You're ogling.” You beat him to it. “Where'd you get the clothes? The hat doesn't do you any favours.”

“A lord something something found himself unconscious after accidentally chugging down absinthe that he thought was gin. In his defense it was dark. He was lucky that I was there to catch him, eh?”

“What?” You giggle, hand kneading at the back of his neck. He missed that.

“It wasn't me though.”

“Sure.” You dress glides as he twists the both of you. Gasping, you hold on to him tighter. “Where'd you learn how to dance?”

“We all have our secrets, love.” Love, oh how you missed that.

“It was Finn, right?”

He sighs, smile still on his lips. “...yes.”

You laugh, placing your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat wash over you. “I can't imagine.”

“I think it's better that you don’t.” He whispers. “Wanna get out of here?”

Lifting your head up lightning fast, you grin widely. “Please.”

“I'm walking out of here in five minutes, join me after three. And tell your bodyguard that you're just going to bed, yeah?”

“Are you finally going to kill me?” You joke, wishing that you could meld closer to him.

“Yes, I've got a pocket of pomegranate seeds at the ready.”

“Alright, wait for me?”

Hobie stops right where you two began. He helps you off with his hands on your waist. His touch lingers there for a second, a second more and it would've caused a scandal.

“Always, love. As long as you're comin'” He leans down, hand holding your own. Kissing your knuckles like a gentleman, his eyes never left yours, eyes crinkling the corners into a subtle smile. “I'll see you outside.”

“Yes.” You say breathlessly.

Hobie leaves, resisting the urge to look back at you.

As you watch his retreating back, your aunt suddenly appears by your side, making your skin jump.

“What—?”

“Who was that?” She commands.

“Lord…” You see a bee buzzing over an apple near the tables. “Applebees. Yes, lord applebees.”

“Huh,” She narrows her eyes, but accepts it as truth anyway. “Never heard of him. Do you know him?”

“Nope.” You act innocently. “Just met him.”

“Hmm, carry on.” Victoria finally leaves you alone.

Weaving through the crowd, avoiding Eugene and other people, you make your way towards Lyla with an excuse that you don't feel so well.

“I can escort you—”

“No need, I've basically memorized the manor now.” A big fat lie on your end. “Enjoy the rest of the party though.” You leave quickly, leaving her to her cream puffs.

—

The night air kisses your cheeks the moment you step outside. Scanning the field and behind the fountain, you see Hobie slink away towards the hedge maze, the top hat discarded just at the entrance. The greenery adds to your excitement.

“Little shit.” You say to yourself as you make your way towards the maze.

Hands lifting up your skirt, the fabric is silky soft and heavy. Yet you practically sprint towards the entrance with a smile despite the cold and spiky grass grazing along your feet. The full moon shines brightly, bronze braziers are placed along the maze, helping you find your way. The smell of dew and grass greets you.

Entering the thicket, you whisper yell for him. “Hobie!”

You jump when he answers somewhere inside the dim maze. “Place your right hand on the right wall, follow it and you'll find me, trouble.” You can hear his smirk through his words.

“You are such an ass!” You say with a giggle, following his instructions. The hedge is rough and pointy under your palm, your other hand is lifting up your dress so you could run faster.

Your leg aches but you don't care enough to notice.

“Hurry so you can beat the shit out of me then!” You now hear him a lot closer now. “Getting warmer, love!”

Huffing, puffs of smoke escape your cool lips. “Oh I'll fucking smack you upside the head.” You hear him laugh loudly at your words. Following the sound of home, you finally make it to the center.

Hobie yanks you immediately, pulling you close to his chest, laughs rumbling his chest as you screech. With a well placed hand on your mouth, you lick at his palm, earning a yelp from the man. Yet he doesn't let you go, instead he hugs you tighter against his chest.

After the laughter subsides and the sound of crickets permeates the air once again, you look up at him, back placed on his steady chest, arms around your torso. You stare at an upside down Hobie. He smiles, breath fanning across your heated face.

“Hello.” Your heart beats louder than a drum with the simple greeting.

“Hi, come here often?” You beam up at him, feeling his muscles relax at the sight of your smile.

“I come here every autumn, how about you?” Hobie pinches your sides, but you barely felt it through the thick corset

“Oh well I kinda live here now.”

“Really? Do I get a discount now?”

“Better, you get to stay here for free.” You stand on your tippy toes to lean further up until the top of your head is perfectly leveled to his lips. Just as planned, he places a feather light kiss that makes you shiver.

Eyes closed, his lips linger atop your skin.

“Are you alright?” Hobie asks, voice muffled by your skin.

“I am now.” You open your eyes to heaven.

He grins, “good,” taking a long breath, he feels like it's the first time he has breathed into you. “That's good.”

“Are you?” Your eyes flashes with worry.

Hobie pushes the thought of the crew leaving him in the void of his mind. “I'm fine, don't worry about me, scuttlebutt.” he turns you in his arms, concerned for the crick in your neck.

Hands splayed over his chest, you feel his heart beating faster. “The crew? Are they alright? No one got caught?”

He nods, cradling your face, noting every difference on your face since he saw you last. Eyes staying on your lips, he resists the temptation.

“Not our first escape. They're nearby and they're alright.”

You exhale, hands sliding up and down, blindly feeling for his skin under all the expensive cloth. It's still him underneath it all, and you're glad.

The dam breaks, thumping your head on his chest, you let out a sob. “I miss them. I miss you.”

“And I, you, love. You have no idea.” As he holds you in his arms, you tell him everything. From how Jessica found you, to how there's a conspiracy against your family.

“Mathias did the deed, Hobie.” He visibly stiffens at the sound of the navy captain's name. “He killed them under the behest of someone more powerful.”

“I know,” you lean away with a raised brow. “I was following you. I'm sorry, I had to know that he wasn't leading you towards your death.” Hobie expects you to yell and get mad at him. Instead you slap his chest weakly with a chuckle.

“Stalker.” You lay his wrinkled dress shirt down gently. “You could've let me know, I can keep a secret.”

“I tried, but I couldn't find an opportunity. You're popular now innit?” He stops your hand, placing his own atop it.

“Just a little bit.”

“I got close once but when I entered your room, you weren't there anymore.”

“I think that's when my cousins called for me—wait, how'd you get in?” Hobie finds your scrunched up face endearing.

“Employee tunnels, there's hundreds of them that connect to each room.” Before you could ask how he knew about them, he beat you to it. “Bribed a handmaiden with one of my necklaces.”

You stare at him with wonderment. “Let me pay you back then.” Untying the necklace you recently made, you place it in his open palm. You intend for him to keep it, in case your reunion is short lived.

Hobie takes it without question. He admires the dark pearl in his hand, the memory of your face after finding it is engraved in his mind.

“Help me tie it?”

You nod with a shy smile, pulse rapidly increasing. “Turn around, cap'n.” He obliges, mirroring your smile. With gentle and tender hands, you tie the red thread around his neck. He turns back around to face you, the pearl shines atop his skin brilliantly.

“Beautiful,” you whisper just to him, his own flustered face is reflected in your shining eyes.

A comfortable silence hangs above the both of you as his hands are placed on your waist, laying there politely. You do the same with your hands around his elbows. The two of you look like you're about to dance with the sound of the crickets as your choice of music.

You expect him to ask you to come with him. To run away and leave the manor, your family's legacy behind. But Hobie doesn't, cannot do that to you, now that you both have the same goal— kill Mathias.

“I’ll help you find whoever killed them, then…” you blink in surprise, heart pounding at his next words. “Come back with me to the mermaid's head? We can find a decent crew there. Then we can avenge them, every single one. After that we can sail wherever you want, see the real world.” His words are genuine, no lie or false hope in his tone. He believes that you and him can do it, do anything as long as you're with him. Gwen and the others are right, he needs to think things through more, and this is his chance to do so.

“You'll stay with me until then?” He nods, eyes serious but full of affection. Breath stuck in your throat, “With what ship?” You ask with a growing smile. Happy that someone finally wants to know the truth with you. Stay with you after so many people have left you.

“We'll find a way, we always do, right?” Hobie squeezes your waist softly. “Or after everything, if you want to stay somewhere, settle somewhere, we can.”

Oh.

“You've convinced me, you had me at ‘wherever I want’” You say, still in disbelief that he wants to stay with you.

You both feel it, the static in the air like lightning is about to strike where you and Hobie stood. He smiles sweetly and you give in.

Leaning in, hands wrapped around the back of his neck, you're prepared to seal the deal with a kiss. Hobie meets you halfway, his lips briefly brushes along yours and it's enough to send electricity through you from his skin alone.

His breath hitches in his throat, chest tightening, affection flowing freely from his fingertips. But before he could properly kiss you, a loud voice calls for you just outside the maze.

You both moved away quickly, flustered faces hiding the giddy smiles you and him both sport. His skin burns while his heart aches. Meanwhile, you can't stop thinking about his lips grazing yours. It'll keep you awake throughout the night.

Lyla yells like someone took her coin. Hobie quickly grabs you by the elbow, pulling you close and then whispering in your ear. His lips brush along the shell of your ear and you shiver from the touch.

“I'm staying at the barn.” Hobie kneads softly at the small of your back, eyes keeping watch at the entrance of the maze. “If you need to see me, there's a tapestry of a unicorn in your room. Flip it away and you'll see the doorway into the tunnels. There will be a fork in the path, take a right and it'll take you outside.” With every word he utters, you melt.

He subtly invites you, and you silently accept with a slow nod.

Backing away when he hears rustling outside, his warm hand remains a second on your heated skin. With a lopsided smile, he turns away.

Fading inside the maze, he disappears into view just as Lyla gets to the center.

“Christ!” She flicks a branch off her hair. “What are you doing here? You said you'd be in bed!”

“I went out for a walk.” Your tone is wobbly. “It's a lovely night for it.”

“Sure sure, you can walk anywhere you want. But come on, not in the ‘murder maze’ Y/N! Miguel's gonna cut my pay if I let you die on my watch!”

“And here I thought you really cared for me, Lyla.” You pout, you're in a good mood. But it could've been better if Lyla didn't show up at the wrong time.

“Pssh, come on, let's get you to bed. It's fucking freezing out here.” She beckons you over, grumbling about being a babysitter.

—

You lay on the soft bed, eyes wide open, arms spread across the large mattress. The blue canopy above you reminds you of the waves on your island. The windows are closed, while the fireplace illuminates the room. Shadows dance in your vision, and you wonder if he's cold.

With a shake of your head, you sit up, gathering enough confidence to visit him. After a minute of slapping your face awake and telling yourself to not be a coward, you finally stand up.

You're in your linen slip, frilly collar and sleeves, white roses adorning the almost see through fabric. It doesn't help much with the cold so you take your robe and hastily put it on. Gathering the thick blanket in your arms, you don't even bother folding it properly as you haul it out of bed to drag the heavy material across the room and into the tunnel entrance.

Stopping by the unicorn tapestry, you flip it open with your foot. A breeze passes by, peeking into the dark tunnel, you bravely walk inside.

You do the same thing like you did in the maze, right hand sliding across the right wall, following it to the exit. Your eyes adjust to the dark, soon after that you can see outlines of the chipped walls. You reach the fork in the path, and just as Hobie instructed, you head towards the right tunnel.

After walking the cool tunnel, you finally make it to a wooden door. It has seen better days, looking like it's about to collapse any second. With a creak, you push it open with your shoulder.

Finally making it outside, you beeline towards the barn. You remember passing it on your way towards the lake, so you strain your ears to hear the sounds of animals, using it as your guide whilst the moon shines a path for you.

The large doors loom above you, it's dark inside based from the crack on the door, a cow moos inside while a horse neighs. With your heart in your throat, you push open the door.

But Hobie flings it open before you could even touch the wood. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, hand trembling on the door. His surprise quickly turns into happiness.

“Can't sleep?” He asks like his legs aren't shaking, threatening to buckle under his nervous self.

“No, I thought you'd be cold.” A lie, in truth, you haven't slept well since you parted ways. “Don't just stand there like a tree branch, help with this.” You practically throw the heavy blanket in his arms. He catches it with an ‘oof’ but his smile stays on his lips. You remember how soft it was.

Hobie pats down the top of the cloth to get a good look at you, he wishes he hadn't for he thinks he died and gone to purgatory.

Your linen slip doesn't hide much as the moonlight perfectly aligns on your back, shining behind you, showing him every curve and dip of your body. The robe doesn't help as it's made from the same cloth, it just adds to his racing heart and rushing blood.

He swears the hay underneath his feet has burst into flames.

“Why are you sweating? It's freezing!” To add to your clueless cruelty, you step closer to him to wipe at the sweat streaming down his temple. “Yuck, Hobie!” You joke with a giggle.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He breathlessly asks, clutching the blanket tighter in his arms.

Your eyebrows knit adorably. “No? I left the dagger under my pillow.”

He clears his throat and his mind, “A-alright. D’you want to come inside?”

“O-oh.” It's your turn to be flustered. He looks beautiful in the low light, it illuminates his best features, which is every part of him in your opinion. “Are your friends alright with you receiving guests?” You tease to hide your current state.

Hobie looks over his shoulder with a laugh. The animals look back at him with blank faces.

“I think they're alright with it, as long as you pick up after yourself.”

“I can do that. I've heard I'm a wonderful guest.” You saunter towards the pen, Hobie’s eyes avoid your backside. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous? That one's new.”

“I'm talking about the horse, Hobie.” He finally looks at you petting the dark horse as the animal snorts in your hand. You giggle, cooing at the docile horse.

“I'm fucking done for.” He whispers lowly, a deep rumble under his chest. Closing the barn door, he tightly closes his eyes with a giddy grin.

“What was that?” You twist around to face him, the horse nudges you, asking for your attention.

“Nothin’” he saves face. “That there is Bernard,” he says while he places the blanket on top of a hay bail. “He's here at the barn instead of the stables because he won't let anyone ride him without bucking them off.”

“How'd you even know that?” You chuckle.

“The stable hand and I are best friends now. He's lettin’ me stay here as long as I stay quiet.”

“Best friends huh? Miles wouldn't like that.” You poke his bicep.

“He'd be devastated.” He jokes back, taking your finger right before you retract it back. Uncurling your fingers, he laces your hand together with his own. Your pulse quickens under his touch.

“Mm-hmm,” you could only say while he looks at you like you found a treasure chest just for him. It's the best you can do really.

“That one is Butter,” He gestures towards the cow staring intently at you like you're made of grass. “Don't try to pet her, she bites.”

“Noted.”

“The goat in the corner eating a shoe is Jack, he likes to ram people.”

“I already like him,” you say through a yawn.

“You can sleep here if you want.”

“As long as I don't share the bed with Butter.”

“Worse, you'll share it with me.”

“Oh that is definitely worse.” You giggle, squeezing his hand. “You drool in your sleep.”

“C’mon, up at the hayloft.” He guides you towards the ladder, grabbing the blanket on the way. “Careful, the second step is loose.”

“I can handle it, expert climber, remember?” Climbing up, you miss the way he averts his eyes.

Finally making it up, you roam your eyes at the small space covered in hay bales. There's a single circular window in the middle of the wall, the light filters through it, shining directly down at the laid out blanket on the floor.

“Nice, you're living in luxury, Hobie.”

He flings the blanket at your feet whilst he still climbs the remaining steps. “Cover yourself up, you'll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” your skin is on fire from where he touched you.

Hobie hums, avoiding flitting his eyes over to you where the moon shines a spotlight on you. He feels like he's not gonna survive the night, and you think so too.

Sitting down with a groan, he lays his head on the makeshift pillow filled with hay. It doesn't smell as much as you thought it would be, you wonder if these were fresh hay.

“How'd you get to stay here?” You ask, while you sit next to him. He scooches away to make space for you.

“The bloke knew who I was—”

“What?! What if he—”

“We're good, love. He won't tell anyone, he said I've helped his family once, I barely remember it but he was happy to keep everything quiet. Lie down?”

“Are you sure?” His hand guides you down on the blanket, hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you down. And you let him without apprehension on your end.

“‘m sure, you're not the only popular one. Don't worry about it, yeah?” Hobie grabs the blanket from your arms to lay it on top of you both. “This is nice, just like in the island eh?” He pats your arm.

“Only this time there's no sand in our knickers, just hay.” You lay on your side to face him, he does the same. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he smiles, hand splayed over your bicep. “This is a five star accommodation compared to the island.”

You bravely close the small distance, he's so close to you that you could hear his heartbeat.

With trepidation, you can't hold it in any longer, lest you regret never telling him.

“I love you, Hobie.” Staring at his swirling eyes, you feel yourself shudder. “And I know you only love the part of me that reminds you of her. And I'm alright with that.”

He swallows thickly, hands clammy.

“Don't worry, I've come to terms with it.” You choke back, smiling, accepting.

“I love you anyway.” He whispered in wonderment.

You can't believe his words. Eyes glossy, you shake your head. “Don't pity me—”

“I don't pity you, I love you. I-I may have liked you at first because of the similarities. But that phase has passed, the feeling is still there, it's stronger now.” He says truthfully, hands grasping your own, kissing your knuckles softly as tears flow out of your eyes. “Because I know you, Y/N, your hands are gentle when you sew me close. You give the same softness when you do it to my crew. Your eye twitches when you're annoyed. Your ankle never fully recovered after you twisted it, you talk to me like you fuckin' hate me but you smile at me like you loved me from the start.”

He holds you close, grey eyes calm, tears pooling in the corners. “I love the parts of you too. Similarities or not, I would have fallen for you either way.” With a nervous chuckle, he continues.

“I love you as you, not as MJ.”

With his confession, you sit up and then immediately pressed your lips against his own. He gasps, pleasantly surprised. You brace yourself on his shoulders, whilst he holds you in place by your waist. Lips moving in tandem, teeth clacking, breaths heaving above the sounds of the animals below—everything seems to fix itself.

Hobie holds you like how you hold rain in your hands— gentle and cradling the water like you would seep through his fingers.

You feel him smile through the kiss, it makes you snog him deeper. His fingers grasps at your slip, balling it in his fist, a proof that this is real and not a dream his lovesick mind concocted. Sliding his hand above your nape, he pulls you in closer, deeper and deeper the kiss goes, the less air he has in his lungs.

Reluctantly pulling you off with his hand lifting your chin away, you chase his lips before surrendering. “Fuckin' hell, let me breathe.” He chuckles out.

“Sorry.” You stare at his kiss bitten lips, and the sheer your lips left. “I got carried away.”

“Nah, don't be. I've wanted to do that for a while, you just beat me to it.”

Eyes downturned, nose kissing the tip of his own, you exhale like it's the first time you've breathed. “I'm not trying to replace her, I don't want that. I know she will always stay with you. So, let me ask you this— Are you sure? There'll be consequences.”

“I can handle the consequences. I'll fight the consequences.”

You smile. “We'll fight the consequences. Together.”

Hobie chuckles deeply, chest bobbing up and down, lifting you up and down on top of him. Your heart beats sync, grey eyes staring up at you with reverence, a whirlpool of affection swirling inside.

“I think I've got enough air now, do it again?” He asks like he's asking for a second heaping of lunch.

You nod with a grin, and you dig in.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it! ❤️

148 notes · View notes

galexystern · 3 months

Text

all's fair in love and chicken

pairing; eddie munson/reader

rating; T

warnings; lots of fluff, a tiny bit of angst, love confessions, pining, getting together

word count; 2.1k

desc; robin and steve dare you and eddie to a game of girls vs. boys chicken. eddie has something up his sleeve that changes everything.

masterlist

The first thing you see after stepping inside the Harrington mansion is Robin looking guilty as sin. It makes you uneasy, and you immediately want to walk over and demand what the fuck that expression is for, but it’s the annual pool party bash and you’re carrying the first bottles of booze its seen and Steve is already ushering you to the backyard so you can set them down on the makeshift bar.

“Thank god you’re here,” he mutters under his breath. “People have been clamoring for drinks for half an hour.”

“Only like a fourth of them can legally drink,” you point out. When you reach the table, he helps you unload and set up so guests can pour their own concoction.

“And they’re bossy as fuck.”

You laugh, half-forgetting Robin’s mysterious guilt, and arrange the liquor just so. Steve excuses himself and runs into the house to get ice, and another boy almost instantly takes his place.

“Hey, princess,” Eddie says, surprising you and making you knock a bottle of vodka over. He deftly catches it and stands it upright.

You turn to him with a look. He’s grinning devilishly, loving that he spooked you. You’re notoriously easy to startle, and despite the fact that you’re secretly in love with him and have been for two years, the trick got old a long time ago. You hold back the smile threatening to bloom and narrow your eyes in annoyance. Eddie’s eyes get wider in response, doe-like, and his mouth turns down into the cutest pout. After a few seconds, you sigh and finally grin, forgiving him quickly. It’s a tried-and-true routine you two have done since you became friends.

“Hi, Eds,” you reply, hoping your lovesickness doesn’t ooze too obviously. You always think you sound so gooey, but he’s never picked up on it. This time is no different.

“Get you a drink?”

“Yes, please. Our usual.”

“One Munson Special coming up.”

You chuckle and take a few steps away to claim a free beach chair. You set your bag down and shuck off your clothes, stuffing them away. You test your bare feet on the concrete, but it’s too hot, so you keep your flip-flops on for now.

“Here you go–”

You spin around in concern as the end of Eddie’s sentence turns into a choked sound. You find him staring at you with huge eyes and a slightly open mouth. You move closer to him. “Are you okay?” You ask worriedly.

He blinks and then nods jerkily, practically throwing your cup at you. You avoid the liquid that splashes over the edge and take it carefully. You’re still looking at Eddie, unsure what could be wrong, but he just swallows and smiles reassuringly. “Something in my throat,” he explains, and you exhale in relief.

“Good. You can’t choke here otherwise Steve will be the one doing CPR.”

He barks out a laugh. “I’d sooner die.”

Your mouth twists, wanting to smile but holding back somewhat. “Be nice,” you chide half-heartedly. “He’s our friend now.”

He makes a disgruntled face. “I guess.” You look at him with petulant sternness and his expression softens. “I’ll try. Only for you, princess.”

Your heart flutters and you take a gulp of your drink to hide your quick breaths. He can’t just say things like that. He takes a sip as well, and you two settle into a comfortable silence. You take a look around the party, watching as the kids splash around and play Marco Polo in the pool, and eyeing as Steve and Robin bicker while she throws obvious longing glances at Vickie, who is sitting with her feet in the water and both pretending not to notice and trying not to blush. Nancy and Jonathan are sitting in the hot tub, having what seems to be a lively discussion with Jeff, Grant, and Gareth. Hopper, Joyce, and the rest of the adults are at the back, manning the grill and pointedly avoiding the shenanigans everyone else is getting into.

You turn back to Eddie to find him looking at you. Your head rears back a little, not expecting his gaze, and he quickly averts his eyes and takes a drink. A light blush spreads across his cheeks and towards his ears. You want to pull his hair away from his face to see if the tips are red as well, but keep your hands to yourself.

You’re admiring how tan he’s looking, the deep tone of his skin gleaming golden, when Robin shouts your name from across the patio. Both you and Eddie turn towards her; she’s speed-walking over with an annoyed Steve in tow. “Dingus here thinks we can’t beat him and Eddie in chicken,” she says when she arrives.

You blink. “What?”

“The game chicken, where two people fight while on the shoulders of other people?”

“Okay,” you reply slowly.

“Steve thinks boys would ‘obviously’ win over girls.” You raise your eyebrows at him and he shrugs, shy now that his and Robin’s argument has involved more than just them. Robin continues, “‘Obviously’ he’s wrong. But he won’t accept it until you and Eddie actually join us for a round.”

You glance at Eddie, who shoots you a grin. “I’m down if you are, princess,” he says cheekily.

At his smug tone, your competitive spirit comes alive. You look at Robin and nod. “Let’s wipe the floor with them.”

She whoops and drags you both to the pool. She and Steve slide in and stand at the edge so you and Eddie can sit on their shoulders. There’s a lump in your throat when you swallow; you didn’t think it’d be you two on top and fighting so close. But you can’t back out now, so you just focus on balancing as Robin walks further in.

She turns and there Eddie is, smiling mischievously, surprisingly stable atop Steve. His eyes sparkle in the sun and his tattoos stand out like they’re three-dimensional. You lock stares, and he runs a finger across his neck in a threat. Your eyes narrow as you mouth, You’re going down.

“Alright, are we ready?” Steve asks, sickly sweet. It’s purely for Robin’s sake, and she immediately replies, “Go!”

You lunge forward and grab Eddie’s biceps, his hands clamping onto yours. You grapple, pushing and pulling in any effort to destabilize the other, Robin and Steve compensating for your movements below. It’s a tough battle, but at some point, you’re leaning all the way into Eddie’s space and he’s precariously teetering backwards. You feel a triumphant smile start to form when he does the unexpected.

He kisses you.

It’s a soft, short peck, but it shocks you so much that you fall back, all the way off Robin’s shoulders and into the water. Once you’re submerged, it’s like time slows down, and you try to comprehend that Eddie just kissed you.

Eddie kissed you.

All to win this stupid game.

“That was definitely cheating!” Robin is yelling when you surface, inhaling oxygen desperately and pushing your hair out of your face.

“It was not!” Steve shouts back. “All’s fair!”

The two continue to argue, and you look at Eddie. He’s mysteriously quiet but half-grinning, and your fury grows. You stalk away–as much as you can while underwater–and pull yourself out of the pool. You detour to your chair to grab your towel, and then you’re racing inside, up the stairs to Steve’s guest room, where you’ve stayed a couple times after late nights. You slam the door shut behind you and sit on the bed, not caring if you’re dripping on the duvet.

You’re shaken and upset, and you can’t believe Eddie would do something like that to win a game of chicken. If you didn’t like him romantically, it would be misleading and give the wrong idea, and Robin was right–it is cheating.

A knock comes on the door, and it slowly swings open to reveal the man himself. “Princess? Are you okay?” You just glare at him in response, and he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “What’s wrong? Did you inhale water?”

If you weren’t so upset, you’d be touched by his concern. “You’re a fucking asshole,” you seethe. “I can’t believe you would do that just to win. That’s such gross bro behavior.”

He’s wide-eyed. “What? No, I’d never do that.”

“You just did!”

“No!” He runs a hand over his face. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Then why?” You grit out.

“Well, Robin told me that you liked me–”

You suddenly remember Robin’s face from the beginning of the party and understand. She’d blabbed to Eddie that you were in love with him and felt guilty for doing so. Well, she fucking should.

“That’s worse!” Your face burns in embarrassment and anger. “You used my feelings against me to win instead. Real nice.”

“Will you listen to me?” Eddie pleads. “I didn’t believe her, you’re way out of my league, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And when we were playing, you were so close and you smelled so good and your lips looked so nice, I couldn’t help myself and kissed you.” His entire face is tomato red. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you lose. I wasn’t even thinking about the game, just you.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying you like me now?”

“Now? I’ve been in love with you for two years, princess. I just didn’t think you’d like me back.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. I can leave.”

But before he can turn away, you’re leaping forward and pulling him into a heated kiss. He’s surprised by it, stiff and still, and you think wildly that you’ve finally gotten him back for scaring you all those times. Eventually, his brain catches up and he melts, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips are soft and warm, and it’s leagues better than the kiss in the pool, and you don’t want to stop but you’ve gotta breathe at some point. You two break apart panting, gazing at each other for a minute until you both burst into laughter. Your foreheads meet as you shake with it, and when the giggles fade away you’re still resting against each other.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell him fondly, and he chuckles. “I’ve been in love with you for two years too. I thought I was so obvious about it.”

“No, you’re right. I’m just an idiot,” he replies, making you snort. “But I could tell after Robin told me.”

“That doesn’t count! If she hadn’t, you still wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You’re about to argue some more when he captures your mouth again, and you sink into the kiss. You run your hands through his hair, pulling inadvertently, and he moans a little. You pull away with a smile, hands poised to do it again, but he holds them still.

“Don’t give me a boner at a pool party,” he begs. “I’d never live it down.”

You laugh. “Alright. Only for you, Eds.”

He smiles softly. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too,” you reply with heart eyes at full power.

He steps back. “We really gotta go back now, or I will have a boner for the rest of the night.”

You shake your head with a grin and take his outstretched hand. You two walk downstairs and out to the backyard, where the festivities are in full swing. Steve and Robin are near the doors, still bickering. When she spots you, she gasps your name.

“Are you okay?” She asks worriedly.

You nod. “I’m fine. But we will be talking later.” She blushes and that guilty expression returns. But then she sees your hand intertwined with Eddie’s and it retreats somewhat. She smiles triumphantly, and you can already tell your stern talking-to will go in one ear and out the other. “And,” you continue, “I want a rematch.”

“Let’s do it!” Eddie shouts and pulls you towards the pool. He pushes you in, but you hold tight to his hand and drag him under with you. Once Steve and Robin have joined, you maneuver yourselves on their shoulders. You and Eddie make playful threatening motions, you wrestle heatedly, and then there’s cheering from you and Robin as the boys topple backwards into the water. They surface, spluttering from the impact, and Eddie immediately goes after you. You screech with laughter as you weakly attempt to run from him, and he catches you around the waist and lifts you above the water. You squeal with the movement, and after lowering you, he kisses you. You beam with love in the summer sun.

#eddie munson x reader #mine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you

204 notes · View notes

qvincvnx · 3 months

Text

sometimes when total strangers commit the crime of being annoying in my reblogs i DM them or reply @ them before blocking simply due to the autistic need to be understood. BUT i have rules for when i'm allowed to do that.

1. i'm not allowed to do it without running the scenario past a groupchat to make sure i'm justified in annoyance and not simply evil (due to migraine, hangry, etc) 2. i have to make it constructive and helpful feedback, such that they can avoid getting blocked in future interactions. which sometimes makes me feel like i'm some sort of tumblr user manners training wizard. eg:

> CHUMMY INSULTS are only funny if you are already MUTUALS WHO TALK. try upgrading your FRIENDSHIP before attempting this maneuver!

> if you don't wish to ANNOY other USERS, try NOT leaving long, off-topic REBLOGS. such REBLOGS may result in other USERS taking the BLOCK action against you, and/or being targeted by a PISS ON THE POOR attack in future interactions!

> unloading your PERSONAL TRAUMA in a STRANGER'S INBOX unprompted is a BOUNDARY VIOLATION!

many such cases. obviously don't phrase it like this unless your goal is to be insanely condescending. but anyway i recommend doing your best to at least mentally frame your feedback this way if you're going to block the motherfuckers anyway.

#sometimes it's GENUINELY agonizing to just block someone without explaining why and this is something i only do then because: i do know.#like i know this is both insane and rude. however sometimes i can't help myself and i really try very hard not to make it... ad hominem.#but. 'your behavior is inappropriate and i am setting a boundary but also i want you to know why' (<- said by guy who needs to know always)#if nothing else if the advice is constructive you won't hate yourself for losing your temper.#tumblr wizard #<- so i can FIND THE FUCKING POST AGAIN

186 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 5 months

Note

I’m biting at the bars of my cage Jesus Christ I love Viking!gaz

It doesn't matter where you are when he gets home, Gaz will find you and scoop you up. You're carrying one of your chickens to market and suddenly you and your feathered friend are pulled against Gaz's chest. You do your best not to catch you smile on his fur even though you're both burying your faces against each other. The chicken squawks in annoyance and Gaz laughs. He holds your face so gently, eyes roaming over you, hungry as he soaks in every detail. He kisses you quick before pressing his forehead against yours, your noses rubbing against each other.

"Welcome home," you breathe, soaking in his smile like the winter sun. You suppose this takes care of dinner, the longhouse will likely throw a feast for the vikings' return. Gaz kisses you again, his lips chapped but insistent before he pulls back again.

"Gods I'm glad to see you," he sighs, taking the chicken from under your arm and petting its proud little head. His other hand takes yours to keep walking towards the market. You press close against his side, warmed noy by the furs and leathers he's wearing but by the man underneath. You toy with one of his braids, it'll need to be redone. Yet another problem for later.

"Shouldn't you be unloading the ship?" You question, squeezing his hand so he knows you're not trying to send him off.

"They have enough hands," he assures you. Fine by you, plenty of men rush to see their partners after the long journey, you're sure there are people at port ready to fill in. You certainly aren't sending Gaz away any time soon, not when he's just come home to you. You're sure he'll be stuck to your side for a good few weeks, and you plan on enjoying every second of it.

"I brought you something," he tells you conspiratorily after you hand your chicken off and collect payment.

"What?" You grin, dragging his arm around your shoulders as you walk through the little stalls. He tugs you closer against his side and digs through the pouch at his side, tugging a leather cord free. He dangles it in front of you, the same way he does to entertain the cat. You fix your eyes on the fat white beads strung along it, intricately carved with little hills and valleys. You take it from him to inspect with careful fingers.

The beads stick to your skin ever so slightly. Bone. Delicately carved to size and hollowed out, you wonder how long Gaz was working on this. Probably as long as he was away. He kisses your temple while you admire his work, leading the way back to the docks. Every gift he gives you, the time and care behind it, feels like another proposal.

"One for each week I was away," Gaz tells you, pushing the beads in your palm with gentle fingers, counting to be sure they're all there. You make note of the worn stitches in his leather glove, you'll need to fix those.

"They're beautiful," you tell him, closing your hand tightly around the beads and tucking them close to your heart, "Thank you."

You tip your head back so Gaz can kiss you, and hope that you'll have the same number of weeks with him home.

#cod x reader #x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #gaz garrick #viking!gaz #viking au #i love the idea of gaz with braids

354 notes · View notes

rafesmuse · 1 year

Note

ur whole page brings me joy i didn’t know i had omg. can i request one where the reader is mad at jj over something but he makes it up w sex 😋 ty i love ur fics

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: smut, dirty talk, mentions of sex

nav. // m.list // taglist

not my gif. credits to owner.

You let out a sigh as you tossed your bag on the table when you got home. You made your way to the living room before your attention was drawn to the dishwasher— more specially the fact that it wasn’t unloaded. You cursed quietly as you plopped down on the couch, annoyed at JJ since this wasn’t the first time he forgot to do his chores at your shared house. Just as you were about to text him, you heard JJ rushing down the stairs like an excited puppy, happy to hear that you had arrived home.

“There’s my girl!” he said with excitement, coming up to hug you but you swiftly pushed him away. He gazed at you confusedly before his facial expression shifted to one of realisation as he looked over your shoulder and noticed the dishwasher.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I-“ “So what’s the excuse gonna be this time, JJ? I’m so fucking sick of it” you spat out with more annoyance than you normally would. It had been a very long day and you simply couldn’t deal with anything right now.

You got up from the couch and made your way to your shared bedroom as JJ stood motionless, unsure of what do to. You were well aware this wasn’t the right moment to argue, given your state of exhaustion and your desire to avoid letting your emotions get the better of you.

From your peripheral view, you could see JJ following you upstairs, causing you to let out a deep sigh as you tried your hardest not to snap at him— but you lost all control when he grabbed your arm.

“I swear to god JJ! I’ve already asked you, what, five times to do the chores this week? Can’t you do anything in this house?” you snapped at him. You felt your anger intensifying when he gazed at you with a slight smirk on his face as he bit his lip.

“Seriously? Are you enjoying this?” you asked, your brows furrowed while he eyed you up and down. “No. But you look hot when you’re angry. Kinda scary, yes. But very, very hot” before you had the chance to react he abruptly lifted you by grabbing your thighs and encircling your legs around his muscular torso. Your breathing quickened as he kissed your neck and pushed your back against the wall.

“There is one thing I can do, baby.” he whispered, sucking on your earlobe as his hot breath on your skin sent shivers down your spine. “How many times did you say you had to ask me, sweetheart?” “Uh-uhm… 5 times, J” you stammered, feeling yourself lose control as he continued nibbling on your neck and marking you with hickeys.

“I see, I see… I’ll make it up to you, pretty girl.” with each kiss on your neck, you felt the anger inside you subside. “I’ll give you an orgasm for each time you had to ask me” he whispered in your ear as his hands squeezed your ass.

“B-but-“ “No buts. Gonna make you feel so good, baby. From now on I’m only gonna make you scream my name in pleasure”

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated since they keep me motivated to write more!!

🏷 tags (join here): @tpwkweasley7 @hthej @vxntxque @goingbackt0505 @hybridluv @uhhhidk9 @heroftbiggestfan @locker42 @wanturvideo @conniesanchor

#❥ ari’s works #jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut #obx #obx smut #jj maybank drabbles #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fic

2K notes · View notes

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 3 months

Text

Eddie in bat form is annoyed with a customer in Family Video flirting with you

Just a lil fun imagine. Protective, slightly jealous Eddie.

🦇❤️

Eddie was nuzzling into your shoulder, he had just finished taking a long flight in his bat form and was in the middle of greeting you.

He was yet to change back into human form and greet you properly, you tickle his head and he makes a little noise of contentment.

His moment with you is interrupted when some guy comes into Family Video. Eddie immediately dislikes him, the way he's looking at you makes him shake with annoyance.

He's looking at you like you're a piece of meat and Eddie doesn't like it one bit.

"Well hey there gorgeous. Need help unloading those boxes?" he casually leans over the counter and Eddie eyes the dude while squeaking to you, feeling very irratable.

"Yeah, I'm good. My boyfriend will be here soon" you ignore the guys flirting and Eddie is content for a few seconds, until the douchebag eyes you up and down with lust in his gaze and Eddie wishes he could turn back into his human form right now and scare the shit out of the dude.

"I'm Sam. You mind helping me find some videos for me and my buds?" Steve is busy talking to another customer, so you agree.

Eddie stays perched on your shoulder, watching Sam check out your backside. He squeaks in fury and you gently stroke his head, it calms him a little bit but he will be happier once Sam has left.

*Can I bite him just a little?* he pleads and you stifle a smile and subtly shake your head, which causes him to mope.

Sam takes the longest time to pick a video and makes dumb innuendos which test Eddie's patience. He talks to Eddie in a sarcastic, cooing tone and attempts to tickle his head.

Eddie restrains himself from biting his finger off.

"Aww honey, looks like your boy has stood you up... I can keep you company" he moves closer to you and you move back, giving him a don't fuck with me stare.

"No thanks" you maintain politeness but it still causes Sam to flush furiously and mutter bitch under his breath.

Furious Eddie dives at the asshole and chitters away at him.

*Hey asshole. Flirt with or call my princess names again and I'll bite your dick off*

Danny laughs and it infuriates him more. Well, can't say he didn't warn him...

You must sense the chaos he's planning as you gently scoop him into your arms.

"Hey, sweetie. Go and calm down, I'll be with you in a few minutes okay?" he squeaks, talking to you in your own little language.

*I'll be back in a minute princess*

He changes back to human in the back room and announces his arrival ''Hey princess, you miss me?"

Sam takes one look at him as he walks over and pales, Eddie is at least a head taller than him, his brown eyes flashing with danger and he slings a protective arm around you and you snuggle close to him.

It's fun watching the asshole squirm as he chokes and stammers that he doesn't want a video anymore.

He rushes out and you turn to Eddie trying to look stern but failing.

"I can handle douchebags like that babe. I don't need you to do your don't fuck with me shit" he nods, knowing full well you could handle the guy but Sam really was a pain in the ass.

"Princess, lucky I turned back human because I was two seconds away from biting the big butthead" you laugh, kiss him and soon he forgets all about Sam, all he thinks about is you and how lucky he is that you're his princess.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine

352 notes · View notes

obxone · 8 months

Text

Love or Lust

Edited-ish. ~800 words.

“Rafe, get out,” Sarah orders her brother as she unloads her shopping bags onto one end of the sofa, glancing at her older brother as he lounges on the other end.

A book is in his hand, and his annoyance is clear as he stares at Sarah and you over the top of the book. “Why?”

“Because she’s about to change,” Sarah points to you as you stand by the door.

“You have a bedroom!”

“It still smells like paint,” she huffs. "We went there first."

“Then use a bathroom.”

Sarah gestures to the massive amount of shopping bags. “Does it look like all of this will fit into a bathroom?”

He shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“Sarah…” You reach for her hand, but she ignores you and glares at her brother.

“You are such an asshole, Rafe.”

He smirks, not bothered by her words at all.

“It is fine, Sarah. I’ll take one outfit at a time to the bathroom.” You reach for the first bag and dig out a skirt and a top. “I’ll be back.”

You offer her an encouraging smile in hopes that they will not fight in your absence before you slip out and into the bathroom. "Relax."

Before you know it, it is six outfits later and you are exhausted and growing annoyed as Sarah complains about the way the shirt bunches at your waist. “Try this one.” She holds up another top.

“It is just a date, Sarah, why does it matter this much?” You ask as you reach down and grip the hem of the least favorite shirt you bought today before pulling it up and off.

She shrugs, digging around in a bag for the earrings that you had fallen in love with at the shop. “Because it’s your first date in over a year.”

“Right,” you huff and grab the new shirt after tossing the ill-fitting shirt back into a bag. “Can I not wear a dress? I bought three of them.”

“Umm…” Sarah sighs, after digging in another bag. “Yeah… I can’t find those earrings. They may be in the car.” She leaves without another word, and you move closer to the sofa to find one of the dresses. You fish out two of the three before turning and freezing when your gaze meets Rafe.

“I forgot you were even here,” you whisper, pulling the dress up to cover your chest. “Umm… okay, I’ll go to the bathroom and change.”

“Why?” He asks, smirking from behind his book, enjoying the view. “You’ve already started in here.”

“You are shameless.”

He shrugs. “Who is the lucky guy?”

“Conner.”

Rafe grimaces. “That tool?”

“What?” You ask, pulling the dress over your head before removing the pants now that the skirt is covering your lower half. “You know someone better?” He looks back at his book, and you smirk. He thinks he knows better. “Who? You?”

“At least you would never get bored with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Rafe, you do not know the difference between lust and love. Why would I even bother?” You move to his side and move your hair over your shoulder. “Zip me.”

He stands, discarding the book, and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his breath fanning over the back of your neck. “Because,” he starts as he zips up your dress before leaning in a little closer. His lips are by your ear. “You and I both know about your little crush.”

Your cheeks warm, but you do not let him see it.

“And you know what I want,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing the hem of your skirt, toying with your thighs.

“And you aren’t shy about asking.”

“I could demand.”

You blush hotter as his hand dips between your thighs. “You wouldn’t dare.” Your voice is breathy, shaking, and he can tell he is doing something to you.

“I don’t have to.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder as his fingers brush your underwear, feeling how damp they are from the briefest touches.

“Cancel the date with that tool and meet me later.”

You turn to look at him, sliding your arms over his shoulders. “And what do I tell Sarah?”

“I don’t care.”

You shake your head and step away from him. “Right.”

His mouth opens, but before he can utter a word, Sarah is rushing back in. A pair of really pretty gold hoops in her hand. “Got them!”

You grin at her and reach for them as she looks at your dress.

“That is perfect!”

You grin, spinning as you put the hoops in your ears. You catch Rafe’s gaze again, and he smirks before going back to his book.

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

233 notes · View notes

rascal-xo · 11 months

Text

Rules of Entanglement

Pairing: Phillip Graves x Female Reader

Request/prompt: “Could you do a sex pollen of Phillip Graves or Alejandro Vargas x female reader, please”

Summary: One thing leads to another winding up with you in your commanders arms…

Warnings: SMUT, P in V sex, wrap it before you tap it, language, NOT PROOFREAD

Tags: @picapausincero @pukbadger @fiveshelmet @myguiltypleasures21 @madamemelancholysstuff @emmaadlerrichtofen1 @swissy23

As you stood by the supply truck, the sun beat down on the rugged military base. Sweat trickled down your forehead, mingling with the dirt on your face, as you unloaded crates of supplies with your fellow soldiers.

Among them was Phillip Graves, a seasoned soldier and your commander.

“You know, Commander, I'm starting to think these crates have a personal vendetta against me," you joked, feigning an annoyance to carry an unnecessarily heavy one.

Graves raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. "Don’t go blaming the crates for your lack of upper body strength, Darlin.”

"Well, it's not my fault they didn't provide me with biceps of steel in basic training," you retorted, a playful pout forming on your lips.

As you continued to lift and carry heavy crates, the heat seemed to get stronger as the evening went on. “Fuck, it’s hot.” You were nearly panting.

“Yeap, the desert sun’ll do that to ya.” Graves, replied, He had already tossed what was his tan shirt to the corner on a lawn chair. The way his cargos hung belted on his waistline was a sight for sore eyes.

“Like what ya see?” Graves remarked, finding the way your face went red all of the sudden.

“Yeah you wish.” You scoffed, a smile creeping at your face.

The heat was suddenly unbearable. You walked over to the tent and took off your tan shirt, untucking it from your cargo pants.

Graves watched as you removed your shirt, revealing the sports bra underneath. His gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes taking in the sight before him. He quickly averted his gaze, trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism, but the tension in the air became palpable.

As you resumed your work, the air between you felt charged, the unspoken desires hanging in the balance. But you both knew the boundaries that existed, the professional relationship that took precedence over personal feelings.

And yet, in moments like these, the romantic tension became almost unbearable.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the base you finally finished up the rest of the unloading. Finally getting a chance to go back into the cold air condition of the main housing area on base.

You made your way to the common area after a long awaited shower, hoping to find a moment of respite before retiring for the night.

Graves, having arrived moments before you, looked to you from the counter where he leaned against, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of recognition, a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken desires that had plagued both of you for far too long.

The romantic tension that had danced between you for so long was now a palpable presence, filling the room with an almost unbearable intensity. It was as if the weight of unspoken desires had become too much to bear.

Graves glanced at you, his eyes tracing the contours of your face. In that moment, his imagination began to wander, envisioning what it would be like to finally give in to the magnetic pull that had brought you both together. He wondered how it would feel to taste your lips, to explore the depths of the unspoken connection that bound you.

But just as he was lost in his thoughts, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. Your lips met his in a tender yet urgent kiss, the culmination of years of unspoken yearning. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of the moment, the intoxicating taste of possibility.

Graves responded eagerly, his arms encircling you, pulling you closer as if he couldn't bear to let go. The kiss deepened, the tension and desire unfurling between you with a fervor that could no longer be contained. It was as if time had finally caught up with the emotions that had simmered beneath the surface, and now, there was no turning back.

“You don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do that.” You spoke, breathlessly against his lips.

“Well we can’t stop now, darlin.” He replied. Before he could finish, you reached up and pulled him down to meet your lips in a heated kiss. The passion between you was electric, and you could feel the heat building as you explored each other's mouths.

As the kiss deepened, Graves hands moved slowly up your sides, caressing the skin that lay exposed beneath your shirt.

Your breasts pressed against his chest, and he began to gently squeeze them in his palms. You moaned into his mouth as you felt his hard cock pressing against you through his pants.

The feeling of it was so intense that you had to pull away for a moment. "We shouldn’t be doing this," you said breathlessly. "Someone might come in." "Don't worry about that," he replied, kissing you again. "They’re all asleep anyway.”

Graves pushed you back against the other wall and quickly lifted off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. His lips found their way to your uncovered nipples, one at a time, sucking them gently between his teeth.

You let out a soft moan as his mouth worked over them. His hands roamed over your body as he kissed you deeply once more. "God," he whispered, "you're beautiful." He leaned forward and kissed your neck, moving his way down to your breasts.

As his lips closed around your right breast, his hand moved slowly down your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. With a quick flick of his fingers, he pulled them down slightly, and then slid his hand inside.

His fingers found your clit, already swollen with desire. He rubbed it gently, causing you to gasp and arch your back. He then slid his fingers inside your pussy, and began to move them slowly in and out. You moaned softly as he did this, and your legs parted slightly, giving him better access.

He slipped another finger inside you, and began to work them in and out, faster and faster. You could feel yourself getting close, but he stopped suddenly. "No," he said, "not yet baby."He pulled his fingers out of you.

"Turn around," he commanded. You turned around and faced the wall. You felt his hands on your shoulders, and you knew what he wanted. You bent over slightly, and felt his hard cock pressing against you.

He pressed his cock against your pussy, and rubbed it up and down a few times. Then he pushed it inside you, and began to thrust into you. It felt so good, you couldn't help but cry out.

"Oh fuck!" you cried. He slammed his cock into you, and you could hear the sound of skin slapping against skin.

He had started off with slow thrusts, but eventually all you saw were stars as he thrusted in and out of your at ungodly paces.

Graves' breathing got heavier, and he began to groan loudly. "Fuck you're so beautiful" he gasped.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to climax, and you knew that he was too. "I'm going to cum," he told you. "Cum with me." And with that, he picked up speed, and fucked you even harder than before.

Your whole body shook with pleasure, and you screamed his name as you came.When you finally regained your senses, you turned to face him. "You okay?" Graves asked, not yet pulling his cock out of you.

“Never better.” You chuckled breathlessly.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #fanfic #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #simon ghost riley #call of duty smut #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick #call of duty imagine #call of dooty #phillip graves is underrated #i can fix him #call of duty fanfic

331 notes · View notes

amhrosina · 1 year

Text

Wherever You Go, I Go (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST

A/N: Requested by a nonnie! I love writing readers that give Frank an attitude when he's being a dumbass, so here's that lol

Request: “wherever you go, i go” with frank pls🥺? maybe a hurt/comfort where he tries to push the reader away to protect them but they’re adamant about staying by his side? of course pls disregard this if it doesn’t inspire you <3 have the best day 🌷💝

Summary: Frank hasn't spoken to reader in two weeks and then shows up battered and bloody on their doorstep. Reader accidentally reveals their feelings in a fit of anger.

(Warnings: all the normal Frank things, so like blood, descriptions of stitches, wounds, etc. also, lots of cursing, soft!frank, idiotboy!frank, loml!frank)

Frank Castle was a mystery to most people, but you thought you’d cracked the code in understanding him; key word – thought. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him last, and the idea that Frank had lost interest or abandoned you gnawed at your stomach at all hours of the day. He wouldn’t just leave, would he?

It wasn’t like you were officially together or anything, but after the months of long nights sewing up cuts and whispering secrets into each other’s skin inbetween teeth clashes and hair pulling, you couldn’t really call Frank just a friend of yours. He’d made that clear every time you were anywhere near him. The familiar weight of his hands on your waist, the way he knew exactly where to press his lips on your neck to make you moan, the soft kisses he’d press into your hair when he left way too early in the morning.

You weren’t crazy for thinking he cared about you – you knew that – but his lack of contact for two entire weeks was a growing concern. Was he hurt? Dead? Did he meet someone new? More interesting? You were losing focus in your day-to-day tasks, and it was all his fault. Your boss had sent you home early and told you to get some sleep because it was clear that you needed it, but it was now past midnight, and you were beyond sleep at this point.

A loud thump against your front door startled you out of your haze. You grabbed the pistol Frank had left for your protection and inched towards the door. Your apartment wasn’t in the safest part of the city, but you’d never had to use a gun on someone before. Frank’s words had been clear when he was teaching you how to shoot it: “Safety off, cock it, aim, and unload the entire clip in the bastard’s face.”

You repeated his steps like a mantra as you peeked through the peep hole. You stared into your dim hallway, searching for the source of the noise, and found nothing. You grunted in annoyance. Dumb kids being dumb, you supposed. You went to move away from the door, already over the disturbance, when your eye caught a tiny bit of movement towards the bottom of the peep hole.

It was a subtle movement, one you would’ve missed if you blinked, but it was there, and you recognized those god damned boots. You set the gun down, swiftly unlatching the deadbolt and swinging the door open. Frank laid in a crumpled heap at your feet, a low groan emitting from his throat. He’d been leaning against the door when you opened it, so he had landed flat on his back in your haste to open the door.

A gasp caught in your throat when you finally took him in. Frank was covered in blood. You could just barely make out Frank’s dark eyes looking up at you. His nose was crooked and bleeding, definitely broken, and you could see a cut across his chest that was flowing more blood than you knew a human could have in their body.

“Oh my god, Frank!” Your voice finally came back to you in a hushed whisper.

You curled your arms under his shoulders, tugging him far enough into your apartment that you could shut the door. Frank was tall and muscular, so you knew he’d be heavy, but his dead weight was almost impossible for you to move. You ended up falling backwards, landing on your tailbone. Frank’s head rested in your lap; face pulled in a painful grimace.

You cradled his head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Where have you been, you fucking asshole?”

The way you were softly stroking his cheeks juxtaposed the anger laced in your words. Frank’s eyes were half lidded – he was barely conscious, but still breathing. You crawled out from under Frank’s weight and ran to the bathroom, grabbing at anything and everything that could help.

Frank was struggling to move when you dropped down next to him, pushing him back towards the floor.

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t move.” You mumbled, tugging his jacket off. His shirt was being held together by a few strands of fabric across the collar, so tearing it off him wasn’t difficult. The hard part was having to peel the sections of fabric that were so coated in blood that they were stuck to the gaping wounds. Frank’s breathing stuttered as you started putting pressure on the wound across his chest.

Blood was bubbling out of the cut, falling down his sides and onto your freshly mopped floor. Your Christmas pajamas were coated in red, but you weren’t worried about any of that. The more pressure you put on Frank’s chest, the more his eyes widened, and he needed to stay conscious.

Once the bleeding slowed, you began to sew stitches into the gash. Frank’s eyes followed your movements. It was a slow and painful process, but it gave you enough time to figure out what you wanted to say to him.

“You’ve been gone.” You mutter, pushing the needle through his skin. “You’ve been gone, for weeks, and then you show up half dead and bleeding all over my floor. Where were you?”

“’m sorry, baby.” Frank’s rough voice had a direct line to your heart, which ached in response to the two weeks of radio silence.

“I thought-” He gritted his teeth as you pushed the needled through his skin again, “I thought you’d be safe if I wasn’t around. I thought you’d be happier.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at him and then back down at the stitch you were working on. “If you really thought that, then you’re an idiot.”

“I never said I was smart.” The smirk on his lips reminded you of the rage you had swallowed down earlier.

“You. Left. Me.” You spit. “You couldn’t even say goodbye? You just fucking left me and thought I’d be happier? Fuck you, Frank. You should know by now that wherever you go, I go. If you really thought that leaving was a good idea, then you’re either blind or I’m a fucking idiot for falling in love with you.”

You freeze, squeezing your eyes closed. Your planned speech had been thrown out the window the minute you’d let yourself feel just how angry you were at him for abandoning you, and you’d just accidentally said the L-word to Frank fucking Castle.

Frank’s hands hover over yours, still mid stitch. You didn’t want to open your eyes and see the rejection written on Frank’s stupid face.

“No. No. I didn’t mean to say that. Forget it.” You shook your head and focused your gaze on the chest wound that was almost completely stitched up.

Frank’s hands wrap around yours, halting any more movement from you. You didn’t want to look, refused to, even. Frank mumbles your name, slightly squeezing your hands.

You finally look up, meeting his gaze. His expression was mostly neutral, but his lips rested in a small smile.

“You love me?” he asks, nonchalantly running his thumbs over your hands.

You let your head bob in a single nod.

“I lo-” You cut him off.

“Don’t say it unless you mean it. And don’t say it if you’re going to leave again.” You plead with him. He lifts one bloody hand to cup your cheek and shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. I love you. And I left because that scared me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken from me. I know it was stupid to leave, and I’m sorry.”

His words weakened the fire in your blood. Your eyes softened and you leaned into his hand, still cupping your cheek.

“I thought you were dead.” You whisper into his palm, pressing a soft kiss into his skin.

“’m sorry. I’ll never leave you again.”

The weight of his promise sits on your chest for a moment.

“Okay.” You respond, nodding your head. Your attention returns to his chest, a comforting silence overtaking the apartment as you finish stitching up the cut. You slowly make your way down Frank’s body, searching for and patching up any injuries you come across.

You help pull Frank to his feet. You’re both thoroughly covered in his blood, and you’re almost positive you won’t be getting your security deposit back on account of the giant puddle of it on your floor.

“Are you staying?” You ask, warily glancing between him and the door.

Frank cups your jaw and pulls you into a searing kiss. You stumble into his hold as he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ll stay forever if that’s what you want.” He mumbles against your lips.

“That’s what I want.” Your voice is breathy, seductive, even.

“Okay.” His tone is final as he nods and kisses you again.

“Okay.” You respond, smiling into the kiss. He pushes you backwards towards your bedroom, but you stop him. “We both reek. Shower, then fun, okay? And only if your cut doesn’t hurt too bad.”

“Got it, boss.” He chuckles, pulling you toward the bathroom.

After your shower, you walk into the bedroom, fully intent on ravishing Frank whole when you notice his sleeping form. He’s already in a deep sleep, arms resting behind his head on the pillow. You knew the adrenaline from the night would eventually catch up to him. You crawl into bed next to him and rest your head on his chest, carefully avoiding the cut you’d covered in gauze after your shared shower.

Frank turns, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Mmmm, love you.” He mumbles, still mostly asleep.

“I love you, Frankie.” You whisper, content to spend the rest of your life wrapped in his arms. Frank Castle is a mystery to most people, but not to you, you decide as you drift off to sleep, not to you.

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt

745 notes · View notes

b33zlebubz · 16 days

Text

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER EIGHT

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past." CHAPTER CW: IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT ((not from simon))

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1400 HOURS

"You're movin' too much, still."

"You are quite literally breathing down my neck. Kinda hard not to."

"Yeah, well, get used to it, love. 'Cause at this point you're always gonna have someone looming over you."

You huff, unamused, and it clouds out in front of your face as you squint through the scope of an unloaded rifle. Gloved hands grip the machine as you focus the scope on a point far-off at the other end of the course.

Four hours you've been out here, now, running a sniping simulation. The rest of your squad was split up in pairs across the vast landscape. You were left as the odd one out and, seeing as Walker had originally planned to just stick you carelessly in with another group, Simon volunteered to partner with you instead. Keep things equal. Which basically—as your superior—meant he had an excuse to sit back and smoke while you did all the work.

The exercise was simple; climb the mountain, find your post, sit and keep watch for flags until the next team tags you out. A sniping exercise as well as a strength and conditioning one.

You both made quick work of the mountain, ice picks cracking against the ice. Simon never really considered himself the competitive type, partially because he never needed to be and partially because there was no point—he's worked hard to ensure he's always the biggest guy in the room. Today, though, something in your growing annoyance as he yelled down keep up, sergeant or watch your footing every time you lagged behind stirred something in you, which in turn stirred something in him. It quickly became something of a race.

When his pick slipped and you finally surpassed him as he skidded down a few meters, he heard your laugh for the first time against the wind. For some reason, it made him smile, too.

"I hate sniper duty," you grumble. "Don't know how you do it—sit in the snow for hours."

"Same way I put up with your whiny ass."

"And what's that?"

"Patience."

You roll your eyes, but your lip quirks up into a smile nonetheless. A sight he's grown more accustomed to over the course of the past couple days of training and conversation. He's helped you out in little ways, stopping by the shooting range to offer some constructive criticism as you practiced, offering dietary and training advice to get your strength up, sticking his neck out for you when he could around Walker…among other things. As it would turn out, you were good company. Whiny, maybe—but good company, nonetheless.

You were improving, too. Temperament and strength-wise. How much of it is due to his company rather than his guidance, though, he isn't sure.

"You're not funny," you retort.

"You complained the whole way up the mountain, love."

You huff and shoot him a look. "Did I get it done?"

"Affirmative."

"And did I beat you while doing it?"

He shrugs. "More or less."

"Then you should watch your mouth, Lieutenant."

His eyebrows raise, amused. "Is that a threat I hear?"

"It's a promise to beat you again sliding back down the mountain, sir."

He imagines you throwing yourself down the snow in order to beat your own speed record, and he chuckles a little at the thought. "I'd like to see you try, Angel."

You smile, gaze focused through the scope. You've spotted three flags already, and you spot two more as another hour passes. The team that's supposed to take your place is getting closer, Ghost thinks it'll be twenty minutes before they rendezvous, and you both make your way back for the day.

"Ghost."

"Angel," he exhales another cloud of smoke and vapor when you speak, breaking the comfortable silence that's washed over you both.

You maneuver awkwardly to position your hand behind you, opening and closing your fist a few times.

"Hand me one of those," you say, your breathing puffing out into the freezing air. "And my lighter."

He shakes his head with an amused smirk. "You're supposed to be focusing."

"Can't focus if my hands are shaking."

"And what if this is a real scenario? You're not gonna have cigarettes in a life-or-death situation, sergeant."

"Yeah, well, you do," you flex your hand again. "So gimme."

He figures you're the only Sergeant on base he'd let order him around, but he doesn't let that thought take root in his mind. Instead, he shifts closer so that he's lying on his stomach next to you in the snow.

"Keep still," he tells you, plucking a cigarette from his pack. "You miss a flag Walker won't let me hear the end of it."

You seem slightly surprised, but you don't say anything as he slots himself next to you. He offers you the cigarette as you keep your gaze in the scope, and you use your free hand to slot it between your lips before he lights it. You inhale slowly, and he watches your lips as you do so; watches the tips of your fingers through the clipped tips of the gloves he gave you and watches you exhale. When he looks up, you're already looking at him. He's close enough to see where snow clings to your lashes.

A beat passes where you both just stare at each other. Simon finds he can't read your expression. Then, you shake your head and clear your throat, which in turn snaps him out of his daze, before you take another drag and lock your focus in once more.

"Another flag," you say, your brow furrowed. "At your twelve o' clock. About four kilometers out."

Simon shifts, putting some space between you both as he clears his throat because fuck. What the hell was that?

"Copy that."

You're quiet for the rest of the exercise, only speaking whenever you spot another flag. For some reason, Simon still finds himself fixed on the cigarette in your hand as you work.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1800 HOURS

Whenever both return to the base, there's a lot of whispering. He doesn't notice, at first, too busy sorting equipment and putting it away. You don't notice the lingering stares or the hushed voices either; or you're just pointedly ignoring them. Sorting through your own gear nearby, you're quiet, and you're done and ready before he's even folded his snowsuit. Nevertheless, Simon doesn't pay much mind to the name being whispered around until he can put the face to it.

Roger's Back.

Now, if there is one thing Simon isn't—it's humble. After years of hard work he's managed to pack on an impressive amount of muscle, taking him from a lanky, malnourished teen to the legend he was now. Not since Roba has he ever had an issue taking down anyone with the same experience, or sometimes more, than him. He's made sure of that and intends to keep things that way.

That is, until Simon happens to lift his head and peer down the hall towards someone he, for once, doesn't have to look down to meet the gaze of.

He's massive, is Simon's first thought. The same height as him, he wagers the bloke might be the only lower-ranked soldier here who actually matches his strength enough to maybe have the upper hand in a fight.

Simon's second thought is that bloody hell.

There's a long scratch across the man's cheek and the remains of a bruise around that of an eyepatch. There's a still-healing gash on the side of his head, scar tissue fresh and thick on the temple of a shaved head, flesh stretched inward from staples freshly removed.

Ah. Roger. The sergeant who's skull you cracked against the edge of a bar.

The man approaches you from behind and Simon stops in his tracks just down the hall, eyes flitting over to watch the scene unfold in the corner of his eye.

Keeping his face hidden had its cons, sure. Maybe he did nearly suffocate himself every time he sweat his ass off in the desert. Maybe underwater tasks were difficult and maybe he had to jump through all kinds of hoops to avoid getting his picture taken. In hiding his own emotions, however, he's become quite good at reading the body language of others.

And you're uncomfortable. Tense. Ready to bite at a moment's notice.

You stand rigid still as you sense his presence, your back to the man as he approaches lazily to stand behind you. Some words are exchanged. You, biting retorts that just barely count as professional and him…standing too close for comfort.

You hold your ground. You don't punch first—just like Simon told you. He watches the man's lips move, reads the threat that crosses his lips. Still, you hold your ground as Simon's fists clench and he realizes what's happening—why you punched first. Why you're struggling and why you put your training on halt for leave.

Next time, the man says. Next time, you're not getting away so easily, bird.

Simon watches you think about it. He watches your hands ball into fists, watches your eyes narrow and your nose scrunch with disgust. But you don't move, no—you don't shrink away in fear and you don't immediately go for the kill. You stand your ground just as Simon told you to.

You do so until the man looks away first, sauntering off. Simon watches you let out one breath, then another, before you grab your pack in a shaking hand and sling it over your shoulder. His eyes linger on you as you quickly leave the room, barely noticing how Roger approaches him to introduce himself.

It's not until the door shuts behind you that Simon grabs the young Sergeant by the front of his shirt and slams him against the wall. Roger lets out a startled yelp.

"You lay another finger on her," he snarls. "And I'll fuckin' cut it off, Sergeant, you copy?"

Roger's eyes are wide. The breath knocked from his lungs, he's panting, and his mouth opens and shuts again in shock.

"I said do you copy?"

"Yes—yes, sir. Copy and check."

Satisfied that his warning is taken seriously, Simon turns him loose with a hissed, "piss off."

Roger stumbles. Disoriented, he continues down the hallway, and Simon is still seething as his boots carry him down a wrong turn to Walker's office.

He doesn't walk out until your safety is guaranteed.

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley

49 notes · View notes

pleasantangelpaper · 5 months

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star (Stu Macher x Reader)

WOOOO I love the scream boys, I really do. So, here is the first part of my Stu Macher x reader!!! Let me know below if you want to be on the tag list for any future parts!

Pairing: Stu Macher x Female! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a bad relationship with a sibling, slight allusions to sex, but not really

Word Count: 1.3k

The video store: a world of fun and amusement, a place where horror junkies get their fix and young lovers find some background noise. It is also my personal hell. Ever since I got this job at Blockbuster video, I have experienced nothing but boring work shifts. The whole gig is so routine. Checking out horror movies, rom-coms, and pornos all day gets to be a blur, and there’s only so many times that you can try to mop the stickiness off of the floor before you start to lose your mind. The store I work at is a quaint one. It’s small in size, but it has a rather large number of customers. Most of the customers are regulars, the ones who show up every Friday afternoon to get their fix for the week, but sometimes I meet a straggler who got bored enough to finally use their vhs. Today was not one of those days.

As I stocked the romance shelf with the newest chick-flicks and romantic comedies, I heard a strange sound, like a movie had fallen off of one of the shelves. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity as I looked around. No one seemed to be in the store. It was 9:30 PM on a Wednesday. Only thirty minutes until closing, and someone was in the store? A thought popped into my head, “Randy… I know you’re here… come out, what are you doing?” I questioned the open room with a tone of annoyance. Randy Meeks was my co-worker, and I guess he could be a friend. He was funny, but sometimes he just was downright weird. Not a word of response was sent back my way. “Randy, really, it’s not funny,”. Suddenly I felt arms grab my face and cover my eyes. “It’s not Randy,” a familiar voice sang. “STU!” I yelled the man’s name angrily, “You can’t sneak up on people like that, it's terrifying!”. He lowered his arms in defense, “Hey, it was just a joke, it’s not like I’m gonna hurt you or something,” he stated. I let out a sigh, “What do you need, Stu, I gotta get home, we have school tomorrow,”. “Ah-ah, the store doesn’t close for another thirty minutes,” the man tutted. I groaned, Stu is a great friend, but he can be annoying when he wants to. “Of course you would know that,”. I began to look back at the shelf I was stocking, unloading the last of the box of new rentals onto the cold metal, and making sure they were in alphabetical order, though I knew that wouldn’t last long. I knew exactly where Stu would be headed, as it was the same row that almost every teen in Woodsboro frequented: the horror section.

“Do you have Halloween: the Curse of Michael Myers yet?” Stu questioned, flipping through the titles meticulously. The man scanned each movie with a sense of precision. There was always something he was looking for. I didn’t know exactly what his favorite horror genre was, because it seemed to me that he liked them all, and yet, he still scanned every movie’s cover as if he were picking a job to apply to. “Actually, Stu, we may or may not have just gotten our first copy, and I may or may not have rented it out already…” I started with a sense of anxiety, fearing that Stu would be upset by the fact that I had already rented the movie. I don’t know why I felt that I had to forfeit my rental, but something about Stu always made me give in. “But, you can gladly have it, uh just, uh, let me check it back in, so that you can check it out,” I started hastily walking to my bag, but not before my arm was caught by Stu. “You don’t have to do that,” his voice sounded concerned as he pulled me back by my arm. “We could just watch it together,” he said. I blushed in embarrassment as the man still had my arm in a strong grip, and because I could watch a movie with Stu Macher… alone. I’ve never been one to succumb to crushes, but… okay yeah… that’s a lie… I’m like totally infatuated with Stu Macher, but can you blame me. We’ve been friends since elementary school. Billy Loomis, Stu, and I have always been a tight-knit group. Of course, we’ve strayed apart a bit now that I have friends that are girls, but we’re still relatively close, and something about him just always pulls me in, and the cologne he wears is just divine, and his eyes, oh his- “Y/N, Y/N… you alive in there,” “ OH Uh sorry I zoned out for a bit there,” I internally screamed as my cheeks turned blood red. “So what do you say?” the taller asked as he looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Oh uh yeah! Of course! We could watch it tomorrow if you’d like, whose house?” I internally begged him to say he could watch it tomorrow. We hadn’t watched a movie alone together… ever. We usually always end up hanging out with Billy, and occasionally, the rest of the gang, but this could be different. “How about I pick you up and we swing by the store to get some snacks, and then we watch it at mine. My parents are gone, so we can take over the living room,” he smirked a little which made me blush a bit more. I brushed any thoughts of romance out of my head, he’s just saying that we don’t have to worry about noise…right…? I nodded my head, “Okay, Stu,” I said with a smile. “You wanna ride home, babe?” Stu asked genuinely. Even though he called almost everyone babe, my heart still did a flutter. “Well if you’re offering…” I trailed off. “Let me close everything up and get my stuff,” I yelled as I was already halfway across the store from him as I went to close down the register.

I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder as I braced myself to experience the chilly Autumn air. Stu opened the door for me as we walked to his car. His car was nice, but rather banged up. He’s quite the chaotic driver. I fastened my seatbelt and sat back staring through the windshield at the town streets as Stu drove. We made light conversation and talked about everything and anything. We brought up stories of past movie nights, and joked about the stupid things we’ve done at parties. As we finally pulled up to my house, I noticed a car parked in the driveway. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “What’s wrong?” Stu faced me now, his previous happy look changing to one of concern. “My sister’s home,” I stated simply. Stu knew all about my sister and everything she had done to me. He instantly put the car back in drive and started to drive away from my house. “Stu, what the fuck are you doing?” I asked, confused. “You’re not going back there with her, I won’t let you,” he said with a grave face. I huffed and sit back in my seat, “So you’re just going to kidnap me instead,” I half-giggled. “Yep, you’re staying at mine, and you’ve got no way out of this,” he proudly exclaimed. “Oh yeah? What if I tuck and roll?”. Stu took that as a personal challenge as he began driving faster, his tires making a loud screeching sound. “STU STU STOP DOING THAT!” I screamed as the man laughed proudly at the fear he made me exhibit. “It’s just a joke babe, chill out,” He giggled. We continued driving until we finally reached the Macher residence.

#stu macher #stu macher fluff #stu macher smut #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream boys #billy loomis #randy meeks #deputy dewey #sidney prescott #scream franchise #gale weathers #scream movies #scream fanfiction

147 notes · View notes

shinsorokiri · 1 year

Text

The Rockstar and The Farmer

Sam x Reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language, spoilers for Jodi’s heart event, mutual pining, Sam being chaotically smooth

A/N: Yes I’m aware I said I’d hopefully have part two up by the end of the week, yes I am aware it is like three weeks later, everybody makes mistakes and I make big ones frequently. Part 3 will be out eventually, I promise. That being said, enjoy this very late posting of part 2! :)

part [1] 2 [3?]

“Seb, Abigail, and I are gonna unload our gear, so I’ll see you in like… an hour? Or so?” You nod. “Yeah, see you then,” you say, getting up and off the bus.

You walk back to your farm, being welcomed by your animals almost immediately. You go check up on them and make sure they’re all happy and okay before going inside your house to grab the fish you put on ice for Jodi. You check the clock and see that it took you a decent amount of time to check your animals and decide to start walking over now. You take your time, taking the scenic route and waving to Leah as you pass by her home. You check your watch, making sure

You knock on the door before letting yourself in. “Jodi?” you call out, and she dashes out from the kitchen. “Ah, I’m so glad you came, (Y/n)! And you brought the fish! Wonderful,” she exclaims, and you hurry over to her, handing her the fish. You begin to take it out of the cooler you brought it in while Jodi turns slightly towards the hallway that leads to her two sons’ rooms. “Sam! Could you come in here and help clean this fish?” You hear a pause before Sam’s voice responds, quieter than usual but loud enough for his mom to hear, though you don’t know if she picks up on the subtle annoyance in his tone. “Yes, ma’am.” You hear footsteps and the familiar creak of his bedroom door opening while you take the fish out of the cooler and hold it in your hands, presenting it to Jodi. “Wow, it looks wonderful… and it smells so fresh!” she takes it out of your hands and into hers before smiling at you, “Thanks so much for doing this, (Y/n).”

“No problem, I can help you with cleaning the fish, too, if you’d like,” you offer, and Sam’s eyes light up. “Yes!”

“No!” Jodi and Sam look at each other, and she sighs. “Sam… (Y/n) is our guest, we can’t make them help clean the food they came here to eat.” Sam frowns, disappointed that he’s going to have to gut and clean this fish with his mom instead of his crush best friend. You feel a tinge of disappointment as well, and before you even process, you’re speaking, you blurt out, “Oh no it’s fine! You were kind enough to invite me tonight so the least I can do is help you prepare the meal! Besides, I’ve gotten pretty good at gutting fish, I bet I could teach Sam here a thing or two.” Sam raises his eyebrow at you, obviously amused. “Who said I need someone to teach me?”

“Me, Sam. I know you, and you always need someone to teach you,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face gives him away. Jodi watches, her own smile spreading when she seemingly changes her mind. “Oh, fine. You two clean the fish, and I’ll get some sides and all the other ingredients ready, okay?”

“Okay, Jodi,” you say, as Sam takes this fish from his mom, and you follow him into the kitchen. “I have been gutting fish ever since we moved here, farmer, let me show you a thing or two,” he brags and you giggle, rolling your eyes. “Please, Sam. Show me everything I already know.”

“Hey now, did you know that you can do this?” Sam begins to cut into the fish when the knife slips and falls to the floor. You both jump out of the way, and Sam quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you back to make sure you’d stay safe. You ignore the fuzzy feeling that spreads through your chest and giggle. “No, Sam, I actually didn’t know I could gut the floor while simultaneously gutting a fish,” you joke, and his face turns bright red. “My hands got all slimy from the fish!”

“Yeah. Mhm, okay,” you laugh, bending over to pick up the knife and walking over to the sink to wash it off. “I’m being serious I am so good at gutting these guys,” he whines as you walk over to him and the fish, drying the knife off. You grin at him. “I believe you, but… maybe I should hold the knife,” you tease, standing in front of the fish and getting ready to cut into it. He sighs. “Fine, but I can still show you my tips and tricks… here,” he says, wrapping his arms around you from the back and holding onto your hand with his. You’re grateful that you’re facing the opposite way from him so he can’t see your dopy grin, but Jodi sees it. You and Sam interacting had always put a smile on her face, but especially now. She was excited to see what might come from all this subtle flirting going on between the two of you. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find herself encouraging this subtle flirting. She never thought she’d enjoy watching her son gut a fish this much.

With your help, you and Sam managed to gut the largemouth bass in record time, and Jodi shooed the two of you out of the kitchen so she could cook. “Come on, I have a new song idea and want you to hear it, we should have enough time until the casserole is ready,” Sam says, grabbing your hand and pulling you to his room. You feel your face heat up as Sam’s hand effortlessly intertwines with yours, and smile because you’re about to hear a new Sam original. “Can’t wait to hear Goblin Destroyer perform this one at their next show, you grin, and he chuckles a bit. He let’s go of your hand and scratches his neck. “Well, actually, this is more of a song for me…” he lets you know, quickly turning around and inaudibly mumbling, “and someone else…” You take your seat on his bed, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your face on your knees. You grin at him as he picks up his guitar and turns to you. He begins to strum his guitar and opens his mouth, getting ready to sing, when suddenly there’s a knock at his door. A tiny little knock. You and Sam glance at each other and he smiles apologetically. “Looks like I’ll have to show you the song after dinner, then,” he places the guitar back on it’s stand and opens the door. “(Y/N)!” Vince yells, running in and hopping up onto Sam’s bed and giving you a hug. You laugh and hug him back. “Hi, Vince!”

Sam stands by his door, leaning against the wall, observing the way you interact with his younger brother. He grins softly. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t warm his heart to know that Vincent loved you almost as much as him. Almost. He realizes that his eyes go from focusing on you and Vince to just you. He’d been trying to make more subtle moves to hint at his interest in you recently, and he’s really hoping that you’ve been picking up on it. But for some reason, it’s getting increasingly harder for him to not just straight up confess to you. In fact, he has a letter telling you to meet him at 8 in front of his house all written up and in his jeans pocket right now. Of course, he’s nervous about how you’ll react, but he really just wants to be able to wrap his arms around you all the time and keep you close to him. He wants to be able to refer to you as his partner with Sam and Abigail and actually mean it. He wants the rest of the people in Pelican Town to know that the farmer who moved here is a part of the community just as much as he is. He just wants you—

“Why are you staring at us like that?” Vince's little voice pulls Sam out of his trance and his eyes widen. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was no—”

“OKAY! DINNER’S READY EVERYONE!” Jodi yells, cutting the brothers off. You chuckle, watching Vince immediately run out to get food. You look over at Sam, whose face is still red, by the way, and get up off his bed. You walk over to him and tug on the sleeve of his jean jacket. “Come on, rockstar. Let’s go eat.” He grins slightly and follows you out to eh kitchen, sitting next to you. Dinner tastes great, you immediately start asking Jodi a ton of questions about the recipe, which she happily answers and agrees to write it down for you. You already have your mind swimming with ideas to add ingredients that might add more flavor or give the dish a new spin. You almost feel like a part of the family. It ends too soon, though, and before you know it, you’re yawning up a storm. “Oh, (Y/n), you must be tired. You did a lot of running around today,” Jodi mentions, and you wave your hand, shaking your head. “I’m fine, I promise, but it is about time I should head out. I need to go make sure all the animals are all snug and safe,” you say, standing up. “Let me help you clean the table first,” you say, starting to grab your plates. “No, don’t be silly! I can handle that. Sam, why don’t you walk (Y/n) home?” Jodi suggests and Vince jumps up. “Can I go?!”

“No, Vinny, you’re staying here. It’s nearly your bedtime,” Jodi says, and Vince whines. You give him a goodbye hug and make your way to the front door, putting your shoes on. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Thank you so much for the delicious meal!” you yell as you walk out of the house, Sam closing the door behind the two of you. Although it’s summer, it’s a very chilly night. And silly you, you left our jacket at your farm. You shiver slightly, and Sam notices. “Here,” he shrugs his jean jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Oh, no, Sam I’ll be fine—”

“No, no, no, you’re cold, you’re wearing it,” he insists, and you smile softly to yourself. “Thanks.”

“No problem, (Y/n/n).” The two of you walk past Marnie’s ranch, and you watch as fireflies light up the night. “Today was fun,” you say, and Sam nods. “So fun. Thanks again for coming to my show… and for coming to dinner… and helping me gut that fish and not my foot,” he says, causing you to giggle. “Of course. You know I’ll always be at your gigs. Oh! Speaking of you didn’t play me that song!” you exclaim, halting and turning to him. He lets out a small laugh. “That’s okay. I’ll show you another time. You wake up at like 5 in the morning and it’s almost 10:30. I’d rather get you home and in bed,” he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you to walk again. “Aw, so thoughtful,” you tease, before yawning again. “Mhm, and you said you weren’t tired.”

“I’m just used to being tired, comes with the farm.”

“Maybe you should sleep in a little later? Take a nap during the day?”

“Can’t,” you shake your head, “if I’m not caring for the animals, I’m planting crops, and if I’m not planting crops, I’m in the mines, and if I’m not in the mines, I’m fishing, and if I’m not fishing—”

“You’re taking care of the animals… I know. I guess I just worry about you sometimes. You do a lot, you deserve a break,” he shrugs, and you sheepishly grin, looking down at your feet. He’s right, you do overexert yourself. But you have to fix up the Community Center before that idiot Lewis sells it to Joja. You know you have to move quick. “Well once I have the best farm in Pelican Town, I’ll rest,” you say, and Sam rolls his eyes. “(Y/n/n), you already have the best farm in Pelican Town. You’re the farm of Pelican Town,” he says, and you shrug. “Can always be better.”

“I swear one of these days I’m gonna force you to lay down and do nothing all day long. Mark my words.”

“Words marked. I’d like to see you try though,” you say, and he scoffs. “Oh, I won’t just try, I will succeed.” You giggle as you walk onto your land, passing by the little pond by your coop. “Mr. Quackers, if you don’t get inside the coop and stop swimming around so help me Yoba, I will only let you swim in a bucket,” you shout out to your duck, who quacks at you, but seemingly understands the threat. Sam laughs as he waddles into the coop, and you close the door that lets the birds out. None of your babies are getting eaten by anything tonight. Or ever, for that matter. “Mr. Quackers?”

“Yeah. He also responds shockingly well to just Quack. He knows I’m serious when I call him his legal name though,” you grin, and Sam shakes his head. “I can’t believe he actually listened to you.”

“I just have a way with my animals,” you brag, shutting the open barn door after seeing all your animals are safe and sound inside. You glance to where your stable is and see your horse asleep with your dog asleep next to her. “Well, looks like all my animals are accounted for. Thank you for walking me home, Sam,” you grin at him as you get to the front door of your little farmhouse. He grins back. “No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, for sure… oh wait! Your jacket!” you start to shrug it off as he begins walking away. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow anyway. ‘Sides, it looks better on you,” he says, turning around and shooting a wink at you. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, and heat start spreading through your face all the way up to your ears. “I’ll get it to you tomorrow!”

“Or you can hold onto it for a bit, really, I don’t mind,” he insists, and you shake your head. But there’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face. “G’night, farmer!”

“Goodnight, rockstar,” you say, waving at him as he turns and begins walking home. You walk inside your home, your dog rushing past you when he hears the creaking of your door. You grin and lock your door for the night, slipping your shoes off. You’re about to take Sam’s jacket off when you stop. Maybe you’ll wear this to sleep in tonight. Just because you might as well get as much use out of it before returning it to him. Obviously. That’s a good reason to sleep in it. You change into your pajamas, before slipping the jacket back on and getting under your covers. You breathe in Sam’s cologne, noticing it’s more comforting than it usually is right now, and start drifting off. You don’t even hear your mailbox opening or notice your pup staring at the window for a moment before lying his head back down and falling asleep curled next to you. You fall asleep, with only one thought in your head.

‘See you tomorrow, rockstar.’

#stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley sam x reader #sdv sam x reader #stardew sam x reader #stardew valley sam #sdv sam #stardew sam

280 notes · View notes