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littlenightma · 6 months

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Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*

Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.

The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.

Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.

The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.

A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.

“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”

“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”

He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.

And that made things even more thrilling.

His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.

Deformed.

And this deformed man was coming after you.

To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.

She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?

Of all days for your tire to blow out…

“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.

The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.

His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.

He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.

A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.

“What was that?”

She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”

Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.

“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”

Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”

Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”

Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.

In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.

You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.

His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.

He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.

You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”

Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.

“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”

Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.

His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.

Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.

He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.

“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”

Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.

“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”

His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.

“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”

You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.

With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.

His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.

He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.

Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.

“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”

Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.

His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.

#thomas hewitt #leatherface x reader #leatherface #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher community #original writing #slasher x reader

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days

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Tired of Waiting

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: little pieces of your life as you fall in love with Anthony

cw: hurt/comfort

very loosely inspired by Love Story by Taylor Swift

Age 7

The first time you met Anthony, you had been playing hide and seek with your siblings. Your brothers had invited him to play and had declared that he be the seeker. Immediately, you had thought he was cute with his disheveled hair and outfit that was covered in dirt for reasons unknown to you.

He got along with your brothers quite nicely, but didn’t seem to pay you any mind. Almost as if he didn’t like you. And Anthony didn’t like you. He thought you were a know-it-all and didn’t like how you told him what to do.

You hid yourself in the tree above you and tried to hold back your giggles as you watched the boy and your brothers look for you, calling out your name as they did so. You let out a laugh that was a bit too loud and all four of them looked up, Anthony’s eyes going wide as he saw how high up you were. He thought it was very irresponsible of your brothers to let a girl such as yourself climb up there. But instead of helping, they all just laughed along with you.

Taking matters into his own hands, Anthony climbed up to help you despite your objection. You didn’t need his help. You got up there so you could certainly get down. And you certainly didn’t need help from a boy. Especially not one who was your not your brother.

“I do not require your help,” you told him, but he just ignored you, climbing the tree quicker than you ever could.

“No one said you didn’t require it, but I am offering.”

“Then I shall stay up here.” You crossed your arms over your chest, planting yourself down on the branch that you had been standing on. Thinking about letting him help you made you feel weak, like you couldn’t do it for yourself and you most certainly could.

You turned to face the setting sun as Anthony continued to climb to you, paying him no mind. You weren’t leaving that tree until he went away. He was not going to make you look like all of the other women. Because that was not what you were. You were just a girl trying to live out her freedom until it was time to discuss marriage.

Everyone stopped when there was a loud crack coming from below you. You sat up and sure enough, the branch was separating from the tree. Anthony finally reached the branch and him grabbing onto it made it completely break off, causing the both of you to fall to the ground in a loud thud.

He landed on top of you and made multiple apologies even though the fall hadn’t been that far, but you had hurt your knee, probably had even broken it. You screamed in response to the pain and your brothers quickly pulled him off of you and your oldest brother, Henry carried you inside to have your scraped knees taken care of. From that moment, you vowed that you would always hate Anthony Bridgerton.

Age 12

You got over your hatred for Anthony pretty quickly and the two of you had been attached at the hip ever since. You’d chase each other through the garden, threatening to kiss the other once you were caught, but that never actually happened. No matter how much you wanted it to. You knew it was wrong for a boy and a girl to kiss if they were not married, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what it would have been like to press a featherlight kiss to Anthony’s lips.

And Anthony felt just the same. He had realized that the feelings he had thought were hatred were actually of love. He had loved you and more than just a friend. He knew that he was young, but he wanted to marry you. So badly that it hurt. He vowed that as soon as the two of you were of age, he’d do it. If he had the guts.

Age 16

As you got older, you and Anthony talked much of traveling the world together. You’d go to Spain and Paris, and Italy and wherever else your hearts desired. You’d both sit in the study of your house and spin your globe for hours, closing your eyes and spinning the thing and deciding you’d had whatever it landed on to your ever-growing itinerary.

Not long after, Anthony told you that he would be traveling with his uncle through Europe. Coincidentally to the exact places you both had discussed going to. You had been a little upset, but ultimately felt elated for him to be able to do something so exciting. He promised that he would write and bring something back, but that didn’t seem like enough. You had spent every single day for the past nine years together and now you were going to be miles apart with only his letters and gifts to keep your company.

The next week, you saw Anthony off, giving him a hug that lasted a little too long for friends and stayed there until his carriage disappeared down the road. You felt tears fall from your eyes but wiped them away until you were alone.

You knew it was only going to be for a few weeks, but without Anthony, a part of you was missing. A piece of your heart had left with him and you were hoping, praying that he’d finally get the hint and come back and ask for your hand like you had been wanting for years. But he didn’t.

Age 20

Those few weeks had turned into months which eventually turned into years. Anthony had been gone for four years and you eventually threw away the letters he was sending you, knowing that everything he had said was a load of shit. He has promised to come back and marry you, but clearly that hadn’t been of importance since he had yet to do just that.

So, with that, you decided that it was finally your season to find a husband to which your mother reluctantly agreed. She had her heart set on you ending up with Anthony, but since he had failed to propose, she decided that it was probably for the best to just get on with it.

As soon as you had been declared ready to wed, suitors lined up at your door with gifts and many compliments which you took with a smile. All of them were gentleman, but none of them seemed right. The onto one you wanted was out of reach.

You found yourself at yet another ball to meet more suitors that you had forced yourself to go despite your want to stay home and read Anthony’s letters over and over again. You had been dancing with the man your mother had insisted was the right fit for you and no matter how nice he was, you had decided that he was a bore. All he seemed to want to talk about was his family and as nice as it was that he loved them so much, you could only hear about his six siblings for so long.

You looked around the room as he spoke and your eyes locked on a beautiful man by the refreshments table. He has the prettiest brown eyes and hair that was the perfect amount of messy. He was definitely your type and you had been determined to talk to him.

Once the song ended, you excused yourself from Edgar and made a beeline for the man that has caught your interest. His eyes locked on yours and for some reason, they seemed familiar, almost as if you had looked into them before. He gave you a smile and you swore your legs were going to give out at how pretty it was.

“Hello,” you greeted him with a curtsy. “I’m-”

“Lady l/n,” he finished, taking your gloved hand and pressing a kiss to it. How could he have possibly known your name? Unless- No, he was in Paris last you had heard.

“Anthony?” You asked and he just smiled. It really was him! In the flesh! How had he come back and not told you? Perhaps the announcement had been in the letters you had failed to open.

“I believe you should address me as Viscount Bridgerton,” he said, his lips right by your ear, causing you to shiver.

“That would mean that I respect you and at this moment, I don’t.” You pulled your hand from his and headed out of the ballroom, down to the courtyard.

Anthony took off after you, quickly gaining up on you. What had he done wrong? Once upon a time, you worshipped the ground that he walked on and now you were treating him like he was dog shit you had just stepped in.

He told you he was going to come back and marry you and now that he had, you didn’t want anything to do with him. He knew that he had been gone longer than intended, but he had hoped you still would have been happy to see him. Apparently, he was wrong.

Anthony followed you into the hedge maze that took up most of the courtyard and was having trouble keeping up since you had sped up into a run. What even was the purpose of a hedge maze?

He eventually caught you by the wrist and you tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. You were tired of running, but you were also tired of waiting. If you said the word, you’d be wed to Edgar within a month and Anthony would have been kicking himself because he hadn’t gotten there sooner. It was what he had deserved.

“Stop running,” he commanded through labored breaths and you just shook your head.

“No,” you replied. “I will not. I am so upset with you that I can’t even comprehend it.”

“Upset with me?” He still had no idea what he had done.

“Yes!” You looked so upset and exhausted that all Anthony wanted to do was hold you in his arms as a way to comfort you.

“Why?”

“Why? Be serious, Anthony! I have waited years for you and I shall not wait any longer. I am done with you.” That was like a stab to the heart. You should have just killed him. It would have hurt a lot less

“Done?” You couldn’t be done with him. You had spent too much time together for that to be true.

“I am to marry Lord Fletcher.” Fuck, he was too late.

“That man is a bore!” You had no interest in hearing his thoughts. He lost his privilege to tell you what he thought when he left.

“He is no such thing!” He really was, but you weren’t going to give Anthony the satisfaction of being right.

“And may I say old enough to be your father.” He was that too, but you weren’t really going to marry him so it didn’t matter.

“But he will be my husband. A role you could have taken on if you had bothered to show up.” With that, he he let go of your hand and watched you move further into the maze.

“But he doesn’t love you as much as I!” He yelled, loud enough for you to hear. You quickly turned around and marched towards him and grabbed him by his coat before pressing your lips to his. You felt him gasp into your mouth but he quickly melted into you, his lips moving with yours.

“You love me,” you said against his lips.

“More than you’ll ever know.” He pulled away and reached into his pocket for the ring he had bought for you in Paris. He opened the box you gasped at the beautiful ring sitting inside it.

“Anthony, it’s beautiful.”

“And it’s yours.” He removed the ring from the box and slid it onto your finger, tears welling up in both of your eyes. “It always was.”

“I’m sorry. I was horrible to you.”

“No apologies necessary,” he shook his head, pulling you into another deep kiss. “Now, shall we go make the announcement?” He asked, offering you his arm.

“We shall,” you nodded and looped your arm through his, the two of you making your way back into the ballroom to announce your much anticipated engagement.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgeton fluff

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happy74827 · 4 months

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Bring It In

[Sam Winchester x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After a rough hunt, Sam seeks your comforting touch.

WC: 1747

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Sammy!! My adorable pookie. God, he was so precious in the early seasons that I just had to write about him.

『••✎••』

Waking up to a shadow in the middle of the night, especially when you were staying in a motel that was miles away from any civilization, was never a good thing. Especially when you could feel it even before opening your eyes, its presence heavy on the air. It made your senses scream and your heart race.

The feeling of being watched and studied was not something a normal person would like to wake up to, and as you lay there in bed with your eyes closed, that feeling struck you right into your core, making your muscles tense. Adding into the fact of the complete awareness of the supernatural world you were a part of, that was just the cherry on top of the cake.

But as you lay there, your brain going at 100 miles an hour, you realize this instance wasn’t one of those life-threatening situations you were so used to. It was an oddly comforting feeling as the flashlight you flew into the darkness was caught in the hands of someone you trusted with your life, the same hands that have touched every inch of your body in a way you could never forget.

He had been hunting all night, you could tell. Although it was dark, and only the soft glow from the motel sign illuminated the room, you knew his clothes were covered in dirt and leaves, and his hair was a mess. He didn't care, though, as he walked closer to you, his eyes becoming clear as he turned the flashlight on.

Sam had a tendency to get into these moods. A mood where he needed something to ground him and remind him that the life he was living was worth fighting for. You had always been that thing for him, his anchor, and as he approached the bed, his mind was racing with everything and nothing all at once.

As he sat down on the edge of the bed, his large hands reached out, touching you softly. It wasn’t sexual; he had no interest in that right now. He was looking for comfort. He just needed you.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from your position on the bed to get a better look at him. His eyes were tired and glistened over with some sort of sadness that he tried to keep hidden from you, but he knew he couldn’t. The tears reflected the moonlight that shined through the blinds and through the flashlight, and although the shadows under his eyes were more prominent than usual, he still looked at you with the most love you could imagine.

You didn't have to ask him why he was here, why he had been gone all night. You knew. He was a creature of habit, and Sam was very good at reading people. He knew when you were at your weakest when you needed him the most, and you did the same for him.

He needed reassurance. He needed to know he was doing the right thing, or else the guilt and shame would eat him alive. So when he saw the soft expression on your face, the gentle smile, and the look in your eyes, he nodded. It was soft, barely noticeable, but you saw it.

“You scared me.” You said, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. The flashlight was still clutched tightly in his other hand, the light shining up at the ceiling.

He sighed, squeezing your hand and looking away. It was silent for a moment before you felt him shift. The mattress moved slightly under his weight as he scooted closer, his eyes meeting yours once more.

Without a word, he reached forward, the hand that had been holding the flashlight coming up to rest on the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, the roughness of his hand feeling nice against your soft skin. He ran his thumb over your cheek before moving to cup the back of your head.

He was slow, almost hesitant, and you gave him a reassuring smile. You loved this man more than anything, and the gentle kisses he placed on your forehead and cheeks were the most tender of moments. You felt your heart swell as he finally kissed your lips, his hand moving from the back of your head to wrap around you, pulling you closer.

He let the flashlight fall to the floor, the loud thud it made against the carpet going unnoticed. You felt his lips tremble slightly, his emotions getting the best of him as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer.

It wasn’t long before he pulled away, just slightly, his breath warm against your lips. Now you saw the blood, the bruises, and the cuts covering his face. He didn’t seem to care about them, but you did. It broke your heart, knowing that he had spent all night killing monsters and demons just to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe.

He let out a sigh, a long, hard breath as if he had been holding it in forever. Relief, the kind that came after a good cry or after a bad case of the flu was gone, washed over his face, and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. He leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

“I know,” He spoke, his voice cracking slightly. His tone was soft, his lips brushing against your ear. You shivered, rubbing your hands over his back. “I’m sorry, I just.. I needed- I needed to make sure that you were okay. That we were okay. It just... It gets overwhelming, and with what happened to Jess-”

You shushed him, turning to place a kiss on his temple. He sighed again, his breath tickling the side of your neck. His scent surrounded you, a mix of dirt and sweat and a hint of gunpowder. Dean’s presence was there, too, a bit of cologne and beer mixed into the air.

You didn't need to know where Dean was. You were pretty sure he had been on a hunt with Sam, and now he was at a bar, trying to get over his demons. The two brothers were so closely similar and yet so different, but in moments like this, where they were both torn down to their core, you could see the resemblance.

The two of them had a lot of things in common, but their biggest similarity was their stubbornness. They refused to ask for help, and they were afraid to show weakness, especially in front of each other.

Dean was off, drinking his worries away, while Sam came to you. A pattern the two had developed.

You had met the brothers in a motel very similar to the one you were in now. You were there for a simple vacation, a break from all the stresses of your life, but things changed when you were woken up to the sounds of gunshots and glass breaking.

Dean had burst into your room, dragging you out with him. He was a smart guy, and although he had no clue who you were, he knew you were in danger. He had gotten into a fight with a… well, it didn’t matter what it was; all that mattered was that the thing had a taste for human flesh.

You and Sam had bonded instantly, and Dean wasn't too far behind. It was the start of a beautiful friendship despite the poor circumstances. After a year of being around each other, helping each other out with whatever situation came, the three of you became closer than you ever thought possible. A little more with Sam, of course.

So, now, when Sam comes to you late at night, needing you, needing reassurance, you don’t hesitate. You give him all that he needs and more, and when he holds you close, his body trembling and his words shaky, you know it was the right decision.

His grip on you tightened, pulling you into him. You let him, holding him just as close, your hands gently running up and down his back. You could feel the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips, and the heat from his skin radiated through.

After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours. You could tell he was worried about Dean, about you, about the whole situation. He was afraid of what was coming, and although he didn’t know it, his fears were valid.

There was a lot to come, and it wasn’t going to be easy. The two of you had been through a lot, and although you didn't regret it, the thought of something happening to him was enough to drive you crazy.

You were about to say something, but the words never left your mouth. He was kissing you again, the force much stronger than the last, his hands gripping your arms tightly. It was an amazing kiss, filled with all the passion and love he had for you, and as he moved you, pushing you onto the bed, you felt his desperation.

It wasn’t a desperate need for sex, but a desperate need to be close to you. You knew this, and as you tangled your fingers into his hair, kissing him just as desperately, you knew he needed you more than anything. Who cared if you ended up losing more sleep than normal? Who cared if the sun came up and Dean returned to the room, finding the two of you still tangled up together in a mess of sheets? Who cared if the world was coming to an end and this was the last time the two of you would ever see each other?

He needed you, and as he whispered your name, his voice cracking with emotion, you knew he had no plans of letting you go. Not now, not ever. And when Dean did pop up a few hours later with messy hair and his shirt on backward, he would take a single glance and walk right back out the door, knowing he was going to be okay.

The three of you would be okay, and when the time comes and the world starts ending, you would fight till the very end. Because there is nothing worth fighting for more than your family, and you would do anything to protect the people you loved.

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loving-barnes · 4 months

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LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

A/N: And here I am, once again. With another one-shot. Well... not a one-shot. This is chapter one of a series with Logan. More on that later.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: After a failed mission, Logan unexpectedly brings home an injured mutant.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story includes mentions of abuse.

Words: 5300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

Logan’s mission was a failure, a trap. He was glad he got away before he could end up in a cage, locked forever. It was supposed to be easy. An in-and-out mission with a mutant child. Fuck no. He was met with a bunch of soldiers, ready to kill him. And, there was no child. He quickly learned that it was a set-up. The child that Charles had found got moved away from that facility.

On his way back to the school, he found a place to get a drink. The moon was up in the sky, illuminating the night world. The air got colder. He still had a long road home. One little detour to a bar wouldn’t hurt anybody, right? A drink would lift his spirits.

He parked a stolen motorbike in front of a dive bar. Drink or two to get his mindset straight, and then he would head back to the school.

The place smelled like a hellhole - urine, spilt alcohol and cigars. It was a perfect place to hide a corpse. By the smell, he wondered if there wasn’t a rotten body under the floor. He sat at the bar, ordered a beer and minded his business. He could hear everything with his enhanced hearing - even a pin drop.

Whistles came from behind his back when he was on his second beer. That could only mean one thing - a woman entered this hellhole. Probably a hooker, he thought.

“Hey baby, are you lost?” he heard someone’s sleazy voice.

“Now that’s what I call entertainment for tonight!” another man shouted. Some even made howling sounds.

Logan gently turned his head to the side, ready to see an old hag or a trashy whore. What he found was a young woman approaching the bar. She had torn old clothes on her, covered in dirt and dust. He wouldn’t stare at her if it weren’t for the bruises and scratches on her face and hands. He frowned. What the fuck happened to her?

She took a seat two seats to his left side. The corner of his eyes captured three scumbags approaching her as if she was their prey. Logan gripped his beer bottle tighter, his knuckles becoming white.

“Baby, let’s have some fun,” one guy touched the woman’s shoulder, making her face them.

“Leave me alone,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Come on, sugar, don’t be a prude,” another man touched her cheeks, mapping the wounds on her face. “Somebody had their turn. Now, we want to have some fun. Huh?”

It was Logan’s cue to step in. He was fast enough to take the man’s hand off the woman. He gripped it tightly with his, twisting it. “Leave her alone, dipshit. I’m not gonna say it twice.”

“Get your paw off me, dude,” the man growled. He couldn’t get away from Logan’s hold. His friends got his back, ready to beat Logan’s ass. “And leave before the we will teach you a lesson.”

The woman’s breathing sped up, distressed from everything that was happening. “Stop, please,” she said to all of them. But she was cornered at the bar by one of the guys. There was nowhere to escape.

Logan smiled at the bastards. “I’d like to see you try.”

His adamantium claws slid out and penetrated the man’s skin on his arm, almost cutting off the limb. He screamed from the pain, blood spurting everywhere. Then was kicked in the gut.

One of the men grabbed the woman’s shoulder, pushing her to him. A knife appeared under her throat. He wanted to get away with her. “No, please,” she gasped as she felt the man’s other hand wrapped around her torso, holding her against her will. She was tired, beaten and ready to give up.

“Shh, darlin’, it’ll be over soon. We’ll have some fun. Be a good girl and come with me.”

Logan’s eyes found the woman visibly disgusted and afraid. As he was about to finish the second guy, the woman pushed the bastard off her.

“No,” she screamed. And with that painful sound, some force escaped her body, knocking down everyone around her, even Logan. He flew through the bar and smashed into a wall like the rest of the people. Glasses and bottles shattered around the place.

Logan grunted, surprised by what happened. Slowly, he got on his feet. His eyes found the woman again, standing at the same spot, alone. Her body was shaking. It seemed she was on the verge of crying.

Grunting, he stood up and walked to her. She pressed herself against the bar. “No, please.”

“Don’t worry,” his voice was softer than before. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid.”

She took a step back, shaking her head. She didn’t believe a word he said. No wonder.

Fuck this night! Then and there, he knew he had to take her with him. At least he wouldn’t come empty-handed.

“We are the same,” he tried again, slowly reaching for her. “I can take you to a safe place. There are people like us who can help you.”

His eyes scanned the woman’s face. He knew only two options could have happened: A) She got beaten up by her significant other. B) She escaped some sick fuckers who experimented on her.

People around were getting on their feet, shaking off the dizziness. They were processing what happened. Some of them were able to put two and two together - mutants.

“Come before they try to kill us both,” Logan tried her again. “Take my hand. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“Fucking mutants!” someone shouted. “Kill them! Kill them both!”

This time, the woman didn’t hesitate and grabbed Logan’s hand. What choice did she have? He led her out of the bar before the first gunshots started. He got to his bike and sat on it. “Quick, hop behind me.”

At least seven men ran out of the bar with shotguns and pistols, shooting at them. One of the bullets hit Logan’s shoulder. He snarled from the pain. He started the bike before more shots could get to him or the woman.

When he felt her body against his back, he started the engine. “Hold me tight,” he shouted at her.

The woman grabbed him by the waist, gripping him tightly. The gunshots weren’t stopping. A few of them swished near their heads. Her heart beat fast. She gave her life to some stranger. The last time that happened, they tortured her.

One of her hands let go of the man’s and turned her weak body to the side. One more time, the power escaped her hand, and she protected them from the bullets that kept flying around. Again, a veil of some energy surrounded them. Under the moonlight, it seemed silvery and light blue. Bullets got absorbed into the shield.

It lasted only a few seconds, and then the energy disappeared. The shooting stopped. Logan got them far away from that hellhole. Now, it was just the two of them on the bike driving away.

“You okay?” he asked, shouting through the wind.

He then felt her other arm sneak around his waist to hold onto him. The rest of her body leaned against his back. He heard a deep exhale and a soft “yeah”.

He couldn’t believe anything that happened today - first, a failed mission that almost got him captured. Now, a woman on his bike, whom he saved from pervs. Plot twist - she was a mutant with an ability he had never seen before.

And he didn’t know her name.

Logan registered that her body got heavier, and the grip on his waist loosened. “Shit,” he cursed and slowed down, bringing the vehicle to a stop. He moved fast, doing his best to capture her body before she could fall.

“Hey,” he shook her a little as he took her into his arms. “Come on, kid, I need you to come back and look at me.”

Unknowingly, he brushed her cheek with his thick fingers. Damn, she was pretty. That’s when she opened her eyes slowly, staring into his. “I’m sorry,” was all she said.

“That’s okay, kid. Can you hold on a little longer? We are two and a half hours away from a safe place.”

She took a deep breath. “Please, just kill me and don’t make me suffer.”

Logan frowned. He got an answer he wondered. Option B was the correct one. “What? No, not happening, bub. I won’t harm ya. I promise you that.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I get it, kid. I get you have no reason to believe me. Just this once, trust me.”

He helped her to her feet, holding her tight in case she’d lost balance. Her eyes found his. Tears were sparkling inside of them. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” he praised her gently and helped her get on the bike behind him. “If you need anything, tell me and I’ll stop. Keep your eyes open.”

I should have stolen a car, he thought. But at least they were on their way to Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters.

They entered the school’s estate. From afar, they could see the lights coming from the building. The woman exhaled, and her hands again lost their grip. This time, she fell from the bike onto the hard ground. It was so quick that he didn’t have time to notice she was slipping off him. “Shit!” Logan cursed and brought the bike to a halt, jumping off it.

He ran to the woman, kneeling next to her. First, he checked her up, just to be sure she wasn’t dead. “Hey, hey,” he tapped her face, trying to wake her. Nothing happened. His fingers managed to find a pulse. Fortunately, it was there. “Storm! Charles!” he shouted from the top of his lungs. “Anyone!”

Logan grabbed her body, holding her under the knees and back. He started to walk to the school. One of her arms was hanging in the air.

The main entrance door opened. Several people ran outside. Storm was the first one out, followed by Beast and Bobby. They were all dressed in sleep outfits. Their sleep was interrupted by the unexpected turn of events. It was two in the morning.

“Holy shit,” Bobby commented when he noticed the woman in Logan’s arms.

“Oh my god! What happened?” Storm questioned.

Together, they walked inside the mansion and headed to the lower grounds where they had their infirmary. It was hard to be silent. When they walked inside, Logan put the woman on an examination table.

“Damn,” Scott commented.

Jean was already there, prepping the tools. When she approached the woman, she gasped. “What the hell happened to her?” Storm helped as much as she could. Hank approached the table as well.

Logan was visibly pissed. His chest was heaving, and he wanted to punch a wall. “Where the fuck is Charles?” he asked loudly. “Fucking mission, fucking night!”

“Who did this to her?” Storm asked, her hands gently brushing the woman’s bruised face. It played with colours, spreading from one side to the other. Her fingers brushed against the scratches. “What’s her name?”

Logan huffed. “Don’t know. There wasn’t a lot of opportunity to chit-chat when scumbags were shooting at us,” he explained to them. “All I know is she’s a mutant. She protected our asses. That’s why I brought her here.”

“Vitals are stable. There is no internal bleeding.” Jean informed them once she checked the first data that she got. “Hm,” a sound escaped her throat. “We need to scan her body to see if she has anything broken.”

“Logan had to get a child, and he comes back with a woman,” Scott commented not so silently.

“Scott,” Ororo glared at him. “He saved her life.”

“You’re such a dick, Summers,” Logan frowned at him.

“It’s good you brought her here, Logan,” Hank joined the conversation.

“She was about to become a toy for some fuckers who can’t keep their dick in their pants,” Logan said. “And then she showed me what’s in her. I’ve seen a lot of shit throughout my life. Honestly, I’ve never seen this kind of mutation.”

“What did she do?” Hank asked. Everyone wanted to know more.

The Wolverine grunted and shook his head. “Dunno how to describe it. Some force got out of her that threw us all away from her. It was powerful, it stung like a bitch. It looked like a veil of energy. When she used it again, it absorbed all the bullets fired at us.”

“Flyrokinesis?” Jean questioned.

“It’s a possibility,” Hank nodded. “But I’d need to see it. Or it could be Flyrogenesis.”

“Or both,” Jean added.

“Defensive mutations are rare,” Storm chimed in. “It’s been decades since we got any information about a mutant like this.”

“Until we know more, we can only speculate,” Hank ended the discussion.

“Let’s give her some rest,” Jean turned to the screens. “She’ll be out for a while, and we all need to rest. We’ll know more tomorrow.”

They left the infirmary one by one and headed back to their rooms. The last two people who remained were Storm and Logan. Both of them stayed by the unconscious woman. “I cannot believe someone did this to her,” she said.

“I think she escaped some lab,” said Logan. “When she was conscious, she didn’t believe I wanted to take her to a safe place. She wanted me to kill her.”

“It’s a good thing you brought her here, Logan,” Storm patted his shoulder.

Logan’s eyes kept travelling around the woman’s face, taking in her hair and their colour. “For now, we can only guess what happened. But, fuck, she looked like she escaped hell.”

. . .

White light, so bright it hurt her eyes. It was painful to open her eyes. She slowly got used to it by rapid blinking. The white turned into silver, then steel-blue, until the first outlines appeared. Her ears registered a steady beeping sound. Where the hell was she? What happened? What was this palace? Panic started to rise inside her chest. Her body started to shiver.

There was a man who promised to take her to a safe place. How could she trust a stranger?

Fuck, it was hard to breathe. The beeping sound fastened. She ended up locked somewhere. Again. It was another lab - she was sure of it.

A woman’s face appeared above her. She had short white hair and a smile on her face. Weird. “It’s okay, you are safe,” were the first words she heard. “Calm your breathing. You are in distress.”

“W-what-”

“You are safe now. No one is going to hurt you here,” the woman had a soothing voice.

“W-where am I?” she whispered with fear. Her whole body was shaking. Tears threatened to escape her eyes.

“You are in a school for mutants,” she explained.

“School?”

“Yes, school. It is not a lab or some kind of crazy facility. We have children here who are like us, special.”

A school for mutants, she repeated inside her head. New emotion came to her face - confusion. “I don’t understand. W-who are you?”

“My name is Ororo Munroe,” she introduced herself. “But they also call me Storm.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Storm?”

“I have weather-manipulating abilities,” she said with a smile. “What’s your name?”

She took a deep breath. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced herself, eyes never leaving Ororo’s dark ones. Y/N sat up carefully.

It had to be a lab. There were monitors and displays with data. Her eyes lowered to her hands, and she saw an IV on top of her hand. Y/N realised her hands were not tied up. Was Storm telling the truth?

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Do you need anything?”

“Uh,” she tried to find the right words. “I’m tired, my whole body hurts, and I am confused.”

“Give it a moment. It will all click together. I can promise you that,” said Storm.

The door to the infirmary opened. An older man wheeled in on a modified wheelchair. Y/N’s eyes followed his every move. He was bald but dressed in a fancy suit. He had a gentle smile on his lips.

“Y/N,” he said her name.

She frowned, not expecting anyone to know her. It was alarming. “How do you know my name?”

“Y/N, this is Professor Charles Xavier. He’s like us, a mutant. He has an all-powerful brain thanks to his telepathic powers,” Storm introduced the man to her. “He’s the headmaster of the school.”

He approached the woman, gently touching her hand. “I am so sorry for your suffering, but please know you are safe here.”

“Don’t…” she raised her hand. “Please, don’t read my mind.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t want to pry. It’s just that your thoughts were screaming so loud, it was impossible not to hear them,” Charles explained to her. “I will not talk about it. It is up to you to share your story.”

Her shoulders dropped, and she relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Now, let me tell you about this place,” he wheeled a bit farther away from her, observing the room as if he were there for the first time. “In this school, we not only teach children and help them learn their mutations, but we also accept fugitives and help them learn.”

She tilted her head, wincing in pain. “Are you offering me a place to stay?” her voice was softer than before.

“That is if you want to,” Charles nodded.

It came as a shock. Tears appeared in her eyes. “I don’t have to run anymore?” she asked timidly.

“No, Y/N,” he smiled. “You are safe here, with us.” Charles wheeled back to the door, obviously pleased. “Welcome to the X-Mansion. If you need anything, come see me in my office.” And then he was gone.

Y/N turned her head to Ororo, wiping off the tears that gathered in her eyes. It was all surreal. “I was expecting many things to happen, but not this.” And then, “Wait, but I have nothing. No money, no clothes. I can’t afford to stay here. I can’t give you anything.”

Ororo stopped her. “Don’t worry about it. First, you need to get better. You still have bruises and wounds around your body that need to heal.”

Y/N’s hands shot up to her face, fingers grazing over scratches. Then, under her fingertips, she felt a bruise under her eye that hurt a little. Her eyes were looking for a mirror or a reflection. She needed to see the damage. Her mind wandered into her memories, looking back at what happened. For now, it was all a mush. Everything that had happened overlapped. She pressed fingers to her temple, massaging them.

“You okay?” Ororo’s hand appeared on her shoulder.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a mild headache.”

Half an hour later, she met more people - Dr. Jean Grey, who ran more tests on her. She X-rayed Y/N’s entire body just to be sure there was nothing broken. Later, she did a scan to see if there was any indication that would capture Y/N’s mutant power.

When Y/N met Hank, she got scared. She never saw a mutant who looked like that - a blue ball of fur and monster claws. No, he was not a monster. He looked like a beast. “I’m sorry,” she quickly apologised.

Hank was with Jean, looking at scans they made together. “Do you see that?” he asked, his thick blue finger pointing at the blue hue floating inside her body. “Have you seen anything like that before?”

“No,” she said. “But it’s nothing, to be honest. It barely showed in the scan. It might not even mean anything.”

“Or it can be everything,” Hank looked at Jean. “But I agree, so far we have nothing. She’ll be healthy in no time. But, we need to know what she can do.”

After the tests, Ororo brought her a bathrobe and took her upstairs. It was a perfect time to walk around the mansion. All the kids were in their classes or outside, and no one was around.

Y/N’s eyes wandered around the place. She couldn’t take in how massive the institute was. It carried the history and memories of so many people. Overall, in one word, this place was magnificent. “This is amazing,” she whispered.

Ororo’s hands held her shoulder as they walked to the highest floor in the mansion. She opened one of the many doors. They belonged to a bedroom. “Is this yours?” Y/N asked.

“No,” Storm closed the door. “This will be your room, Y/N. You have a bathroom here,” she pointed at the door beside the bed. “And a closet.”

“I thought that this was your room. It’s too nice.”

Storm laughed. “I have my room on a different level. Here’s how it works: The students share bedrooms. The youngest are in groups of three to four. The older two to three. Adults like privacy, so they have a room for themselves.”

Y/N nodded, understanding what she was saying. “Thank you.”

After Storm gave Y/N instructions, she was left alone in the bedroom. She had to sit down on a bed to take it all in. They gave her a bed, hot water, and so much more. It seemed surreal. What if this was all a dream? She sat in silence, waiting for someone to wake her up with torture.

Five minutes passed, then ten and fifteen. Nothing happened. Maybe it was real. Y/N pinched herself, and it hurt. It is real. She went into the bathroom and took a shower. Everything was there - towels, soaps, shampoos.

Surreal.

Clothes were resting on her bed when she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in fluffy towels. There were jeans, socks, underwear, bras, t-shirts, sweaters, hell even shoes. There were only a few pieces from each item. Y/N pressed her fingers to her temples. She wanted to cry. How is it possible that her life turned upside down in less than a day?

Once fully dressed, she opened the door and peeked into the hallway. No one was present. She walked outside, clean and fresh, ready to explore the place more. Her walk was careful and slow. Her fingertips touched everything she could reach - the wooden walls, the statues and the paintings. Her eyes were travelling around the place, taking it all in.

What was fascinating was the portraits of Oscar Wilde, Jane Austen and other novelists. It brought her memories of when she would read books in her bedroom.

“You alright, kid?”

That voice was familiar. It made Y/N turn her eyes to see a well-built man with unusual facial hair. She couldn’t deny he was handsome. She had to blink a few times. This man was the guy who got her here. As she observed him, the white tank top with a black flannel shirt over it, she tilted her head to the side. Damn.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he took a few steps closer to her.

“You are the guy who brought me here,” she pointed a finger at him but quickly retracted it. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “I remember so little from that day.”

“Well, tough night.”

There was a flash of memory from that night. His face, looking down at her, lips moving and saying something that she couldn’t quite comprehend. “Sorry for ruining your evening.”

He chuckled. “You just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

She opened her mouth but then closed it. She didn’t know what to say. The man talked instead. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Y/N,” she introduced herself.

“Logan.”

“Logan,” she whispered his name. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for saving my ass.”

He only nodded. “I should get goin’. I have a class to teach,” he said.

She crossed her arms akimbo. “You teach? Here? In this school?”

“What, is it that hard to believe?” he chuckled.

“Actually, yeah. You don’t look like the guy who wants to teach kids,” she commented. “What do you teach?”

“History and combat training.”

Y/N opened her mouth but then made a face, perplexed. “Combat training?” Why would they teach combat training in a school? And then it hit her, to defend themselves if necessary.

Logan walked past her, heading to the stairs. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

She gave him a simple nod, and then he was gone. Y/N’s eyes had trouble pulling away from the spot she saw him. This Logan guy was a handsome man with a rough exterior.

She continued walking through the long hallway until she found another set of stairs that she took to a lower level. She must have been walking like this for another thirty minutes until she came down to the entrance hallway. This place was indeed huge.

She kept turning, trying to figure out which way to go next. A school bell started to ring. Another lesson was over. The doors opened, and kids of all ages walked out. There were so many of them. And they were all happy. They weren’t lying. This building was filled with them - from the youngest kids to teenagers.

A paper plane flew before her eyes, steadily floating in the air. A boy used his ability to make them fly. Magical.

Her eyes captured Storm walking with another man, chatting. It was probably another teacher. Y/N decided to wait for Storm and ask about the place some more until someone shouted: “Watch out!”

Y/N spun on her heel. Her breath got lost when she found a fireball heading straight to her. Her hands immediately went up in the air. To protect herself, a veil of blue hue covered her whole being. It was a forcefield, and it absorbed the fireball. Y/N could feel the energy in her palms.

Why would anyone throw a fireball? That scared the shit out of her. The veil disappeared once the danger was gone, and her hands fell to her body. She took a few deep breaths. Her eyes caught a boy staring at her with big eyes. Was it him who did it? Impressive.

“Did you see that?”

“Who is she?”

“What kind of power is that?”

The students saw it all. They whispered about it while staring right at her. There were many of them looking and talking. The voices rang in her head. Just calm down, Y/N, she told herself. They are just kids.

Storm’s eyes were wide and sparkling with excitement. She was fast enough to run to her. “Forcefield,” she exclaimed.

Y/N twisted and turned on the spot, looking at everyone. All eyes were on her. It made her feel vulnerable. Her eyes caught Logan standing at the stairs, observing. She couldn’t read his face.

“Everyone back to your classes,” Logan ordered the students.

“Amazing,” Storm commented. “We were wondering what your power was.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. She’d never heard someone say that to her. Creep! A woman’s voice screamed inside her head. Murderer! Psychotic bitch! She wrapped her hands around herself, taking a step back. It all came back again.

“Hey, hey,” Storm put her hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to hide here. We are all the same. The students were surprised by your ability.”

Come to my office, Y/N, she heard in her head. She spun on her heel to look around, trying to find the source of the voice.

“I think I heard the… the Professor,” she said.

“He’s in his office. That way,” Storm turned Y/N to the right side. There was a hallway leading to a big wooden door.

Y/N managed to catch Logan’s eyes looking at her before he left. He was something else - that’s how she could describe it.

Hesitantly, she walked over to the door, ready to knock, when she heard the Professor telling her to come in. As said, she opened the door and walked inside. She was met with the older bald man, still wearing fancy clothes.

“Take a seat.”

Y/N sat on a brown leather armchair. The place smelled like wood and books. There were lots of them. The armchair was comfortable. Her back was straight, and her body was stiff, always ready to run if necessary.

“I would like to know more about your mutation,” he wheeled closer to her.

“What do you want to know?”

He smiled. “Anything you’d like to share with me. I know I can look, but I don’t want to pry.” When he saw the distrustful look, he chose different words. “The more we know about your power, the better we can train you. We can give you more information about your mutation.”

“How can I know you won’t use it against me?”

Charles nodded. “You don’t. We will need to build the trust together.”

“Before I answer you,” she took a deep breath. There were some questions, and she needed answers. “What exactly do you do here?”

The man sighed. “What you see is true - this is a school. There was an idea it would become a mixed school for mutants and humans. That never came to life. Now, it is a safe place for mutant kids, disapproved by the regular society. I find children around the States, and we bring them here - if they want to. Occasionally, we give adults a place to stay, like we did for you.”

It was sincere. Charles wasn’t lying. She could feel it. “This ability showed when I was around 15. I know that it can protect me when I am in danger. I can sense the energy in my hands when I let it out. I can’t protect another person if you are wondering.”

“But…” he goaded.

“I killed with this burst of energy. I hurt people with it. I believe you saw it, didn’t you?”

Charles nodded. “Yes, I did. You can create a protective force field that keeps you out of danger. For example, what happened minutes ago, the fireball one of the students accidentally threw at you.”

She frowned at him, not liking what he was saying. “Then why did I kill with it?”

“There is an explanation to it. From what I saw-”

“When I asked you not to look,” she cut his speech.

“I apologise, Y/N. It is not my intention to hurt you or be nosy. As I already told you, your thoughts and memories were screaming, mixing inside your head. The door was open, and I only peeked in.”

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “You saw it all?”

“No,” he shook his head. “But enough to have a picture. As I said, it is your story to tell, Y/N.”

“What you saw?”

“The day you used your power for the first time.”

It was a moment, a three-second glimpse into her past, but she was back in her child's room, messing with her then-boyfriend. And then, they were arguing when it happened. The force that escaped her body killed the boy and destroyed half the house she once lived in.

“If we want to know more, we must see what you can do. Flyrokinesis is the ability to create and manipulate force fields. It is mostly defensive. However, there can be some offensive moves done with it. This mutation is exceptional.”

She cocked a brow, not sold on it.

“We can help you learn and work with your ability. That is if you want.”

No one is forcing you to stay, Y/N. The choice is up to you. His voice was in her head again.

No more running, no more experiments or killing. Y/N could choose her life. Out of everything that had happened in her life, this, so far, seemed like the best thing that could have happened to her. Fucking trust issues.

“We have everything you need and more,” Charles wasn’t using his telekinesis. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” There was a smile playing on his lips. “No more running.”

“No more running,” she repeated.

#logan howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x mutant female reader #Logan Howlett x mutant reader #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Wolverine #Logan Howlett #Marvel fanfiction

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unholyhelbig · 2 months

Note

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid.

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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transmunsons · 6 months

Text

Little Eddie Munson whose favorite movie growing up was Sleeping Beauty. Or rather, it was his mother’s favorite. She loved the dragons and fairies and princesses and magic.

Eddie watched her face, open and excited, as it was lit up by the reflected glow of the theater screen. The light washed away the crease line between her eyebrows that always became more prominent after talking to his dad. It was the only wrinkle she had. The only one she’d had time to form.

Eddie remembered the way she had leaned down and laughed quietly after Eddie frantically asked her what would happen to the prince. How she told him to wait and watch. And maybe Eddie was too young to fully grasp the plot, but his mom was patient and explained it to him in the parking lot as they walked back to their car, hand in hand while Eddie stomped on every leaf he saw.

Two years later, Eddie stood next to his dad wearing the frilly dress he’d always hated and stared resolutely at his Mary Janes. He’d kicked and screamed that morning, but his dad eventually convinced him that Mom would want her little girl to look her best today and don’t you want that? So he’d complied. Hours later, the rotund man at the pulpit would not stop talking about how Elizabeth Munson used to light up a room and how we would all miss her so terribly.

Eddie was just tall enough to see into the casket. She looked like she was sleeping. Like she was only a kiss away from coming back. He watched as his dad pressed his lips to her hairline, watched as the lid closed and she was lowered into the earth.

All this flashed before his eyes as he stood alone facing down the hellish swarm of bats. A scream—a roar—ripped itself from his raw throat as he challenged the monsters, goading them into attacking. He wielded his jury-rigged spear and trash can lid as if they were a sword and shield, taking down as many bats as he could.

But Eddie was no prince. He was knocked to the ground and held down, laid out like an underworldly buffet for the vicious bats to sink their teeth into. And they did. It hurt like hell, too. By the time Dustin hobbled over to him, Eddie had stopped screaming. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that the bats weren’t gnawing on him anymore.

It’s not how he thought he would go, bleeding out in the arms of a fifteen-year-old. It’s not fair, but he’s a Munson. They don’t get happy endings.

He heard Dustin calling his name as his eyes slipped away to stare at the inky excuse for a sky, splintered with red. He never knew how much he loved the sun until it was gone.

Big, brown cow eyes framed by blocky eyebrows overwhelmed his field of vision. Steve.

He felt a hand on his cheek and then—oh—Steve was kissing him.

He could vaguely hear Steve shouting instructions at someone, or multiple someone’s, he wasn’t sure. Then his lips were back on Eddie’s, pushing air into his lungs. Ah, so it wasn’t a kiss. Damn shame.

“Steve, he’s mumbling something”

“He’s delirious”

The world was moving. Flashes of light passed by periodically. He was still lying down but not in the dirt anymore. The lights were… street lamps. He was in a car.

Thankfully he couldn’t feel his body. He knew this wasn’t good and probably meant that he was in so much pain that he went into shock. He was trying to ignore that.

Frantic voices surrounded him and he was lifted out of the car. The movement jostled him too much and all the pain came back in a tidal wave of blinding white. He promptly passed out.

Eddie woke up covered in so many bandages he could barely see any skin. He felt gauze on his jaw and neck and tried to touch it, but his hand was yanked to a stop by the wrist. He was handcuffed to the gurney.

“I tried to stop them.”

He was met with the sight of Steve Harrington slouched in a plastic chair wearing a rumpled deep red sweater. Through fallen strands of hair, Eddie could see that the skin under Steve’s eyes was tinged purple.

“They said it was just a precaution, to make sure you wouldn’t run.” Steve looked mad. “Hopper’s out there working on getting you uncuffed.”

Eddie must’ve still been delirious. “Hopper?” He croaked.

“Long story,” Steve twitched his mouth into a smile.

“I always knew that guy was a tank,” Eddie stated.

Steve let out a laugh. It was a glorious noise. Eddie wanted to come up with a million ways to cause it again.

“How are you in here, you know, if I’m so dangerous?” Eddie rattled his cuff.

“I can be quite charming,” Steve leveled him with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Eddie made a disbelieving hmph.

“You doubt the charm?” Steve looked playfully offended.

“Oh, I doubt.”

Steve scoffed.

“You’re not nearly as cute as you think you are,” Eddie lied. “So how’d you get in?”

Steve stared at him for a second before fishing something out of his back pocket. The ring of keys jangled and flashed in the light where Steve held it. “Lifted it off a nurse.”

In Eddie’s book, that was far more impressive than schmoozing his way in. He told him so.

“Thanks,” Steve looked down. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d say it was downright bashful.

“They lowered your security to just, uh, that,” Steve gestured to the handcuffs, “after your alibis were confirmed.”

“My alibis?”

“Yeah, you’ll be a free man as soon as you sign some paperwork.”

Of course there was a catch.

Beeping from the machines Eddie was hooked up to filled the room.

“You saved me.” Eddie whispered. He remembered strong arms pulling him off the ground, one under his knees, one cradling his head.

He took a good look at Steve sitting there beside him, with his sweater and his stolen keys. He looked wrecked, like he hadn’t had a good night's rest in days. His honey brown hair shone in the harsh hospital lights. Eddie thought he looked fucking regal.

Eddie realized two things at once. 1: he might be falling in love with Steve Harrington and 2: there was a big, fat, unmistakable “F” on his medical bracelet for all to see.

He heard the beeping of his heart monitor increase.

“Hey, what’s wrong, are you okay?” Steve was suddenly very close. His hand hovered near Eddie’s shoulder.

“Where’s my uncle?” Eddie asked, trying to calm his breathing. He kept staring at it. They’d at least gotten his name correct.

“He left to get some food, he’s been haunting your bedside for the past week.” Steve’s face was right next to his, trying to meet his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Steve turn his head to look at Eddie’s wrist. “What are you looki—oh.”

Steve covered the bracelet with his hand; his palm was big and warm. “It’s alright. None of the kids know.”

Eddie felt his stomach drop. “And you?”

“I know,” Steve had the decency to look embarrassed.

“I had to cut your clothes off to bandage your wounds,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I put two and two together when I had to correct how some of the doctors referred to you.”

“And you’re cool?”

“Yeah, man, I’m cool.” Steve smiled. “I swear on Dustin’s mother.”

Eddie chuckled and then immediately cringed when his sides contracted. “Don’t-don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.”

Screw falling, Eddie was firmly in it now. Steve was being so casual and normal about what should have been ground-shaking information to him. Grass is green, the sky is blue, Hawkins hosts a hell dimension, and Eddie Munson has tits. Had tits, anyway.

Steve had to sneak back out before he got caught and Wayne eventually came back with some turkey sandwiches. They had a tearful reunion where Eddie explained everything and Wayne told him he believed in him the whole time.

Some men in suits came by and watched as Eddie paged through a Bible’s worth of documents. An undead Hopper stood glowering at them from the corner.

Eventually, Eddie was discharged and immediately tackled by a gaggle of young teenagers. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas apologized for almost readmitting him when he yelped and told them to be careful.

Eddie and Wayne settled into their tiny new two-bedroom near main Hawkins. Wayne grumbled that it was too far from Forest Hills, but Eddie knew he enjoyed having his own room for the first time in years.

The school didn’t let him attend class physically, but they sent him work to complete so he could finish the year. He was determined to walk.

Steve and Robin would drop by to hang out. Robin said it was enrichment for Steve since he didn’t have any other friends his age, and Steve gave her a noogie in response. Robin and Eddie bonded over their shared freak status while Steve seemed to be thinking about something very hard.

During one of these visits, Eddie found himself alone with Steve on the roof of his van. Robin had some band thing, so they’d driven out to a field armed with a six-pack or two and a small mountain of junk food.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the field and turning the grass to gold. The plaid blanket they’d spread on the roof was covered in crumbs and empty wrappers. Eddie watched Steve’s profile as he brought the beer bottle to his lips, as the liquid traveled down his throat. He stared at the slope of his nose, how his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks.

“Alright, it’s your turn, hit me,” Eddie said.

Steve looked out at the treeline thoughtfully. “Okay, who was your first crush?”

Eddie groaned. “I’ll tell you but don’t laugh.”

“I won’t!” Steve was already smiling.

“Promise?”

“No, I’m not gonna promise, what if it’s really funny?”

Eddie pulled up his legs and buried his head between his knees. He mumbled the answer.

“What was that?” Steve teased.

“I said it was Prince Philip!” Eddie admitted.

“From the cartoon?”

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not,” Steve laughed.

“It was my moms favorite movie as a kid and she took me to go see one of the re-releases. I was four and I was obsessed with him. My mom thought it was adorable.”

“It is adorable,” Steve leaned back to rest on his elbow.

“What about you?” Eddie leaned down to join him, “Who was your first crush?”

“It was, uh, Laura Jackson in fourth grade.” Steve picked at the label on his bottle. “She let me bum fries off her lunch when my mom forgot to give me money, which was all the time.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

“Yeah,” Steve huffed a laugh, “about every month. Shot me down each time.” He mimed shooting a gun into his own heart and flopped down with his tongue hanging out. Eddie chuckled and Steve resurrected with a self-satisfied grin.

“And you kept trying?” Eddie asked.

“I guess that when I know what I want, I kind of just go after it.” Steve looked over at Eddie. His eyes weren’t actually a true brown, they were hazel like the forest floor. He was looking at him with an indescribable expression. “All I have to do is figure out what it is that I want.”

Eddie looked away, heat crawling up the back of his neck, and lit a cigarette. He took a drag and let it sit in his lungs before blowing it out again.

“I think it’s my turn again,” Steve said. “Let me know if it’s too far.”

“Well now I’m getting worried.”

“Just—you don’t have to answer, but,” Steve picked a crumb off the blanket, “I noticed you don’t go on any dates.”

“That’s not a question, Steve, and not a lot of guys are lining up to gain the affection of Hawkins’ most notorious accused serial killer. Being gay isn’t a walk in the park even without the social stigma of acquitted murder. Let alone the fact that once my pants came off they’d run for the hills.”

“So you’ve never…?”

“Well,” Eddie flushed, “Let’s say I give better than I get.”

Steve seemed unfazed. “What kind of guy would you go for, if you could?”

You, Eddie doesn’t say. Instead,

“He’d have to be kind,”

“Of course.”

“And caring,”

“Naturally.”

“And totally reckless, an absolute daredevil. And ideally he would be madly in love with me, and he wouldn’t care how I was born.”

Eddie was describing the Steve who appeared in his fantasies. The one who showed up in shining armor to save the day. The one who slew monsters with his teeth. More importantly, the one who dropped Robin off at school every day, hours before his shift, just because he wanted to. The one who made sure the freshmen were safe. Who delivered fresh groceries at the Mayfield trailer every week since August.

“I need to confess something.” Steve broke off Eddie’s train of thought.

“What?” Eddie started running through a million possibilities in his head but before he could really process them, Steve spoke again.

“Robin didn’t have a band thing.” His face was so close to Eddie’s, he could see dust on his eyelashes. “I asked her not to come.”

“Why? You two are practically attached at the hip.”

Steve’s eyes flickered back and forth between Eddie’s like he was searching for something. “I wanted to do something together, just the two of us.”

The sun was kissing the treetops across the field.

Eddie had the all-too-familiar feeling that he was missing a crucial bit of information, a tickle in the back of his mind that often occurred when he was staring down a blank test or missed a social cue.

Steve plucked the cigarette from Eddie’s slack mouth, took a deep pull, and placed it gently back on Eddie’s lower lip all without breaking eye contact. Eddie let it fall to the blanket, holes be damned.

“What’s going on here?” Eddie demanded, sitting upright. “You know I’m gay, you can’t do shit like that to me.”

Steve copied his position and exhaled the smoke, taking a second to check that the camel was put out. “My god, Eddie, I’ve spent the entire evening hitting on you and you haven’t said a damn thing!”

Eddie closed his mouth with a clack. He blinked to recalibrate his brain. “I thought you were straight?”

“We spent an hour last week ranking the asses of male musicians. I still say Springsteen deserves first.”

Eddie flailed his hands, “I don’t know! I thought that’s what straight dudes did with their friends. Everything you guys do seems incredibly homosexual, how is a poor guy like me supposed to tell the difference?”

“I sang to you on the ride here!” Steve said through an incredulous smile.

Eddie recalled the slightly pitchy but otherwise impressive rendition of “Your Kind of Lover”. Thinking back, he should’ve noticed the emphasis Steve had put on the chorus, but he was a little distracted by the way Steve’s hair had bobbed as he nodded his head to the beat, fingers tapping on the wheel.

Now, under the weight of Steve’s gaze, the attention felt like too much. It wasn’t fair how the setting sun illuminated Steve’s tan skin. The man was fucking glowing like Helios himself. A drop of sunlight pooled in the hollow of his collarbone just above where a thatch of hair peeked out of Steve’s white undershirt. Eddie nervously licked his lips.

He let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "You like me," Eddie poked his finger into Steve's shoulder.

"Nice of you to finally catch on," Steve poked him back. "I was starting to think I misinterpreted all your ogling."

"I do not ogle," Eddie sniffed, "I admire. You haven't seen yourself from behind; if you had a music career, I'd rank you above Springsteen."

"You sure know your way to a man's heart." Steve said flatly.

"Ya know, when you gave me CPR in the Upside Down, I thought you were giving me true love's kiss." Eddie confessed.

"That's adorable."

A siren whooped in the distance. Instinct took over Eddie's body as he scooped bottles and wrappers into his arms and tried to scramble off the roof. He registered Steve doing the same next to him, and in their haste they knocked into each other, slipped off the van, and tumbled into the grass.

Eddie ended up laying on top of Steve, holding one of the beer bottles at the base of his throat.

"Hi," Steve said breathlessly.

"Hey," Eddie let the bottle roll to the ground. They'd landed on the side away from the road. He watched through his van's tires as the police car sped past their location without a second glance.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"I'm fine."

Crickets started chirping in far-off woods and Eddie thought he might've heard a bullfrog croak.

Steve tucked a piece of Eddie's unruly hair back in place and settled his hand against Eddie's cheek. The sun had just set and Steve's eyes were huge in the low light. Warmth bled through his shirt where it pressed against Eddie's bare forearms.

"D'you know how long I've liked you?" Steve whispered. His breath ghosted over Eddie's lips.

"Tell me," Eddie whispered back with a smile.

"Back in school, I thought you were kind of an ass-"

"I thought this was about how you like me."

"I'm getting to it. I thought you were a jerk, but after I became friends with Dustin, I noticed how much more comfortable he seemed. You made him a space where he could be himself. That's what you do. You make everyone around you more comfortable in who they are because they watch you be proudly yourself.

"You're the bravest, smartest, kindest man I know. I think I started falling for you when you told me you were wrong about me, you know, being an asshole. No one I've dated has ever recognized how much I've changed. You saw me, the real me."

Steve looked so sincere, eyes wide as he held Eddie's face. Eddie wanted to hide in his hair.

"You're gonna make me fall in love with you, Harrington." Eddie warned.

Steve grinned, "You promise?"

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna kiss you now."

"Okay."

Eddie didn't have nearly as much experience as Steve, but he held his own. His hands raked through Steve's hair, felt him do a full body shiver when he tugged.

Eddie smiled against his lips.

“Shut up,” Steve murmured.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Eddie was pulled back into the kiss by the back of his neck. He tilted his head, coaxed Steve into opening his mouth. Steve did something with his tongue that would’ve made Eddie go cross-eyed if his eyes were open. One of Steve’s hands crept up Eddie’s thigh until it rested on his hip, a thumb touching Eddie’s side where his t-shirt had ridden up.

Eddie moved to properly straddle Steve as he switched to latch onto the side of Steve’s neck. The hand on his hip gripped him tight as Eddie settled. Steve made a desperate noise and arched his back, grinding up to meet him.

“Eddie,” Steve said hoarsely. Eddie hummed in acknowledgment as he laid open mouthed kisses on Steve’s pulse point, skating his hands up Steve’s arms to squeeze his biceps.

“Eddie, we gotta slow down,” Steve pulled a reluctant Eddie off his neck and stroked his cheek with a thumb.

Steve gave him a sweet, lingering kiss and Eddie nipped at his lower lip as he pulled away.

“If my giving you CPR was true love’s kiss, does that make me your Prince Charming?”

“I should never have told you that,” Eddie groaned against Steve's collar.

cross-posted on ao3

#trans eddie munson #steddie #ftm eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson

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leviathanspain · 2 years

Text

you tore my world in two

daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader

synopsis: giving birth to a targaryen child was never easy

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you were writhing. your hands clutched at the bed sheets before you as another scream rippled from your throat. you didn’t feel anything that wasn’t the feeling of your body being torn apart.

“the child-“ your midwife panted as you felt her hand, “finally!” she shrieked, and the need to push arrived again, and you screamed, heavily as you cried.

daemon was watching you from the doorframe, he was frozen with shock as he watched you, his heart pounded in his chest as he watched you cry.

the baby made no noise as you finally birthed it. a slap on the back of the baby’s chest was heard but no cry. your face was wet with tears, your brow drenched with sweat. your blood was falling onto the floor in puddles, red, sorrowful puddles.

daemon couldn’t take his mind off what he had done to you, what this child brought onto you. now the child couldn’t even give his own mother the decency of crying, a reward for the price you had paid.

you beckoned daemon to look at the child, your eye lids were slowly wavering, you started to feel the heaviness of your body, and you felt yourself slip off the edge of the bed.

daemon ran towards you, his arms catching you before you hit the stone cold floor. you were light as a feather, blood still pooled from between your legs and your skin was colorless, even your white hair was graying. he was watching you die, he was holding you as you were dying.

you awoke slowly. your eyes were crusted shut, your body felt tight and you felt this emptiness within you. you could barely see the light in the dark room, a small candle lit beside you. a lady walked up to you, and you recognized her suddenly, “my lady.” she greeted you, a smile of joy mixed with relief evident on her face as she saw you. you managed a smile, and you drowned out her voice as she called for the others, and you tried to recollect your memory.

“my lady.” a voice called to you from the door and you turned, watching a small bundle move in the hands of the nurse. your heart jumped with joy as you saw your child, “a boy.” she told you, and you couldn’t help the tears in your eyes as you picked the child into your arms.

“where is she?!” you heard shouts coming from down the corridor and you immediately recognized them.

“daemon?” you called you, and the nurses jumped back slightly as he burst into the room, his face was covered with dirt, and he smelled of dragon.

“daemon.” you cried, happy to see your husband, and immediately he embraced you, gently as you whimpered slightly.

“i was so afraid..” he paused, and swallowed thickly, “you tore my world apart when we first met, and you tore it completely to shreds last night.” he kissed your forehead and noticed the little baby in your arms, “i didn’t know what to do..” his voice trailed off as he looked at you, and the relief in his face was truly heartening.

“i love you so much, my love.” he kissed your forehead, again, repeatedly to show his love, “more than you’ll ever believe.”

the baby cried before you could respond, and you cooed, happy to hear the noise you so desperately fought for.

#daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fluff #daemon targaryen smut

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thegnomelord · 6 months

Note

#23 with male reader and soap. After a mission m!reader helps him clean himself in the shower maybe because soap got injured on the field or just really sore. And he washes off the blood/dust/dirt and helps dry him off and it turns into something kinda fluffy. I just wanna play with this man's stupid mohawk so bad.

Honestly me too, I just see that strip of hair and get the urge to tug on it, completely forgetting the man's fictional 😅 Ended up writing washing his hair and showering together because hyperfixation lol Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Washing their hair

CW: NSFW but no sex, non sexual nudity, M reader, showering together, hair washing, just fluffy fluffy fluff.

As much as you care about Soap, you've got to admit he's a bit of a dumbass, a reckless dumbass to boot. You tell him to be careful and what does he do? End up falling out of a second story window and rolling down a good 60 feet down a muddy hill while chasing after a target. You hear him swear the entire way down from where you're tucked away safely behind the sight of your sniper rifle.

By the time you get back to base Johnny feels as miserable as he looks, covered in so much mud you can't see his skin and his entire back wreathed in dull throbbing pain, not to mention the numerous cuts and scraps. And that's on top of Price chewing him out about safety and Ghost and Gaz teasing him the entire flight back to base.

"Not a word lad," He growls, giving you the stink eye. "Price already yapped me ear off." Soap turns to his heel in an attempt to head to the communal showers, biting his lip to stop himself from swearing out god, king, and country when his muscles scream at him.

"Wasn't going to." You stop him, one firm hand tugging on his bulletproof vest so you don't jostle him too much, though even that has drops of mud splashing on your clothes. "Come on, you can shower in my room."

He looks at you skeptically, but it doesn't take much to sway his mind when you offer him simple comforts; privacy, warm hands to wash away the days pains, a warmer body to remind him he's alive. He follows you without a word, neither one of you caring about the mud you track— tomorrow's problems.

"Foooock." The groan comes deep from his bones, perfectly encapsulating all he feels as you methodically unclip his gear, taking the world's weight off his shoulders and dropping it haphazardly on the bathroom's tiled floor. "Feel like a fockin' hog," He frowns.

"Look like you rolled in a pig sty." You helpfully supplement, receiving a few words in Gaelic which you don't even attempt to understand, though the humor in his tone is crystal clear even when you take hold of the bottom of his shirt; the mud and grime had gone through every layer of clothing, leaving not a single inch of skin clean.

He attempts to raise his arms to help you, only to suddenly yell out a "Oh ye fockin' cunt!" when pain flares from his shoulder down the entire length of his spine. You swear you hear his spine crack at least a dozen times by the time you pull his shirt off his mud wet skin.

"You sound like an old geezer." You chuckle to lighten the mood, dropping to your knees to untie his shoelaces and take off his boots, then the rest of his clothes.

"Says the bloke who's left knee tells the weather." He bites back, a bit of teeth on display as he grimaces, another few curses leaving his lips when he has to lower his arm. "Or tries to, yer got as much accuracy as the bloody reporters on the telly."

"Starting to complain like one too," You add, not at all surprised when Soap proceeds to brush his muddy hand across your face. "Of you fucker," Your words gain a childish little giggle from him, and he lets you guide him into the shower.

Your bathroom's one of the few that has a tub in it —a relic of past tenants before the army remodeled the base into an actual military installation— you had to bribe Price with a lot of high quality cigars to get it, but every penny was worth it. There's a tap as well as a detachable showerhead up top that Johnny eagerly uses, turning the water hot and just standing under the stream while you disrobe.

The clean water turns muddy the second it hits his skin, brown muck swirling around your feet as you step into the tub behind him. "How's that sweetheart?" You ask, taking the soap bottle and squirting a heavy amount onto your hands, not bothering with a sponge and instead using your fingers to wash away the dirt on his skin.

"Heaven." Johnny sighs, his muscles fluttering beneath your hands, mud and blood washing away to reveal deep blooming bruises across his back. "Shite, that hits the spot." He leans against you, the slow but firm pressure of your fingers massaging the sore muscles around the blotchy bruises making him groan. You lean in to place gentle kisses on the darkest bruises, "So good fer me bonnie," he hums, using his arms the best he can to at least wash the mud off his face.

You two float in a sort of mindless space where nothing outside the shower matters, the sound of water running and Soap's occasional groan filling your ears, all your focus on the way your hands rub him down; from shoulders to his back, down to his feet and then back up to his face when he turns around.

Once the water runs clear again you turn off the shower and start the tap so the tub fills with enough water to keep him warm, maneuvering him to sit in the tub while you step out to dry yourself off and put on boxers.

"Don't need ta be pampered like a show mutt," He grumbles, the hot water easing the soreness in his frame and making his exhaustion prominent, Johnny's eyelids starting to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake.

"I know, but you hair's a damn crow's nest." You snort, running your fingers through the mess on his head and showing the gunk stuck on your fingers, hell, you even pull a damn twig out.

His eyes widen, "Well fock me," Soap grimaces, gives a bone deep sigh as you settle behind him, sitting partially on the tub. Cupping water in your palms you rub your fingers down the length of his mohawk, loosening the dirt sticking to the strands until rivulets of watery mud run down his neck.

"Maybe later." You both chuckle, squirting the shampoo Soap always loves to smell on you in your hand and lathering your palms up before bringing them back to his hair. Soap mumbles something, leaning his head into your hands whenever you scratch a particularly itchy spot on his scalp.

His head tips back as much as his aching shoulders let him, his eyes settling on your face. I got it made, he thinks to himself, desperately trying to keep his eyelids open so he can see how you focus on even a simple task like washing his hair. Every brush of your fingers across his dirty strands fills his chest with lingering warmth, every scratch of your nails across his scalp making his eyes droop just a bit more.

Johnny doesn't even notice the slight sting when you occasionally tug on a knot, your touch making his mind buzz pleasantly like the low background static of a TV on late nights, and Soap doesn't realize he's dosing off.

You notice how he leans against your leg, leaning over to see his eyes closed and chest steadily rising and falling. You let him sleep for a bit while you finish up cleaning his hair and then use the detachable shower head to wash the bubbly shampoo off.

"What is'it?" He mumbles when you gently shake him awake, eyelids fluttering open and shut.

"Need you to get up Johnny." You hum and it's laughable how easily he follows your instructions, needing a bit of help to stand up when his back still aches like hell, a shiver racing down his spine as the cold air of your bathroom nips at his skin. "Fock, do'ah look like a snowman?" He grumbles at the cold.

You chuckle instead of saying anything, silencing any other complaints with sweet kisses on his lips as you towel him dry.

Soon after you two are huddled under the covers, his body draped over yours and using your chest as a pillow. Your fingers card through his slightly damp hair, the soft brown strands like feathers against your skin and your touch making him sigh and melt against you.

"Hey lad?" He suddenly says, voice a gentle whisper; like he's about to reveal a secret kept from the world — something only meant for you.

"Yeah Johnny?" You ask, a few stars reflecting in his blue eyes from your window.

Your heart melts at the soft and goody smile he gives you, "Love you." he says, leaning his head into your hand that's in his hair.

You smile and lean your head to kiss him, "Love you too," You mutter against his lips, and when you pull away he's already drifted off to sleep like a babe, soft breath tickling your skin and arms possessively wrapped around your waist like you'll disappear.

But you catch the way he smiles in his sleep.

#Gnome's prompt game #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #top male reader #male reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #sub character #sub john soap mactavish #fluff #so much fluff

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the-californicationist · 7 months

Text

he doesn’t disappoint

Wrote this fic as I was inspired by the challenge from @sky-is-the-limit that asked for Price getting fed up with hearing his hot neighbor have really terrible sex.

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

MDNI/18+

AO3 Version here

Four long stories above the people and the pigeons, she sat, legs on the railing of her amazingly small balcony, reading and writing. Always dressed in that huge jumper with the fraying collar, it swallowed her, covering her little spandex shorts that barely managed to keep her thick arse from slipping out of them, and she had her hair in the braid again. It was his favorite. He liked the ponytails, too, but the braid did something to him. When she plaited her hair and let that heavy rope hang limply over her shoulder, she became Repunzel, and he was Gallahad - or whatever muppet was meant to be at the bottom of her tower.

Captain Price knew that, the moment his fingers flipped the lock on his window, he’d disturb her peace. She’d startle, like a doe, and turn to smile at him. He lived for that turn. Every few nights, he’d catch her out here again, and he could make her turn to him. Make her smile at him. Make her laugh and talk with him, until she went to bed. But, that was the problem. Lately, her bed was filled with the one thing that made Price’s body fill with frustrated rage: The Boyfriend.

The Boyfriend was such a typical Yank, it made Price’s eyes roll back in his head. From the boat shoes to the bad fade haircut, the lad looked like an Abercrombie advert had escaped from one of those oversized shopping bags and landed in her apartment. He was small, first of all, despite the gym-made muscles. And he was as smooth as an otter, fully hairless. Price shuddered back to the memory of watching him try to put up the fire escape ladder shirtless, struggling to lift it with those tiny hands of his, making a disgusted face at the dirt on his palms afterward, wiping it on her blanket without her seeing him. Disgusting little gremlin.

She kept giving this wanker chance after chance to figure it out in the bedroom, and Price had heard just about enough of it, and his gut twisted in his belly knowing he’d have to hear it again tonight. He knew The Boyfriend was here because she was doing her work outside. The Boyfriend insisted on playing his Battle Zone videogames on full volume, bothering her, and complaining like a child if she asked him to put on his headphones. Price enjoyed imagining how quickly he’d expire on a real battlefield. That little prick could scream all the obscenities he wanted but he’d be dead in milliseconds against a man like Price.

His darling didn’t know about that, though. She knew he was in the military, but she didn’t know that he was the leader of the deadliest special forces team in the world. He imagined explaining it to her, pictured the fear flooding her face, confusion and shock hanging out of her open mouth. No. He couldn’t tell her about himself. Usually, when they talked together on the balcony, he would smoke long, densely-packed cigars and sip his whisky while she confessed the sins of her day to him. She told him about grad school, about her poetry, maybe showing him a sample or two. It was beautiful. When she was upset, she’d even tap on his window to see if he was home, sometimes tearful, asking for advice on how to handle something The Boyfriend had done. On really bad nights, she’d lean in and hug him, crying on his enormous shoulder, telling him what a good friend he was for listening to her. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, and her warmth made his cock swell with furious need.

As the night dragged on, The Boyfriend would eventually remember her and call her inside. He’d croon all sorts of things to her. His little whining “come on, baby” and pathetic “I just really need you to” quips were the opening lines to the worst song on Earth. He’d then spend the next five to ten minutes whimpering away on top of her, the headboard slamming into Price’s wall without rhythm. If the gorgeous woman suffering beneath him ever had the audacity to actually be enjoying his attempt, he’d shush her, shaming her for making noises, telling her “the neighbors don’t need to hear that shit.” Meanwhile, The Neighbor would be plotting his slow, painful death.

The banging started, and Price wanted to burst through the wall and stop this trainwreck from happening to her again. Eventually, a short time after it had begun, the banging stopped. Then, an even shorter time after that, the jingle of keys and the “I have an early day tomorrow” and “I have to go” were the outro to The Boyfriend’s opus.

Enough was enough. Before he even knew what he was doing, Price had his hand, raised in a fist, knocking on her apartment door. 23B. Shadow in the peephole. The click and clatter of a lock chain.

“Oh! John, it’s you. Is everything okay?” Her voice was low and smooth. Her cheeks were flushed. She was standing in her doorway, wearing those shorts, that jumper, still full of her need.

“No,” was all he could manage as he looked at her, his blue eyes blown, mad with desire.

“Oh, okay. Come in, I’ll make us some of that delicious tea you bought me. What are you doing here?”

Price followed her inside, silently relocking the portal, stalking her into the tiny kitchen, a mirror to his own. He came up behind her as she was looking in her cupboard for their mugs. When he put his hands on her hips, she froze, startled, eyeing him over her shoulder. His voice was just above a whisper, gravelly and accented, and he said,

“I came to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

She was on her tiptoes, reaching for the cups, but as she registered what he said, she slowly lowered herself back down to the tile of her floor, turning to face her neighbor with a look of shock on her face.

“What?”

Price played with the end of her braid, turning the end of it over in his hand, wrapping it up along his knuckles like a rope. He snaked the other hand up underneath her sweatshirt, fingers lingering on her warm belly, searching for the smooth swell of her breast. He told her, snarling,

“If I have to hear him continue to use you like a warm fucking towel, leaving you wanting, I will lose my bloody mind. Call him. Tell him he’s done.”

“You could hear us?” She flushed quickly at that, recalling all of the times she’d been punished for her noises.

“And I always hear you afterwards, after he leaves, making up for his…shortcomings. Bit sad, innit? Needing to take care of yourself when he should be the one looking after you. Time for someone new. Get your phone, love.”

It took her a moment to register what he was suggesting, but she was fed up, too. She smiled at his comment, and she reached for her phone on the countertop.

“Put it on speaker, sweetheart,” he commanded her. She obeyed.

One ring.

Two rings.

“Uh, what do you want?” The Boyfriend answered.

“Hey, Dick,” Price snarled, “We got some bad news, lad.”

“I’m breaking up with you, Richard,” she spoke into the phone very clearly, wrapping her free hand around Price’s huge bicep, not able to cover even half of its circumference, exploring him as he fondled her, one fist still holding her plait cruelly.

“What? Why? Who is that?”

“Why?” She scoffed, “Because every time I’ve come, for as long as we’ve been together, has been when you’re not here.”

“Are you serious? Fuck you, bitch. You’re just a -”

“Tha’s enough, Dick,” Price barked into the phone, “Look, no worries, mate. I’ll take it from here.”

Click. Price hung up her phone and turned it off, tossing it back across the counter. It made a loud, plasticky bang as it fell. He pressed his heavy erection against her body, crushing her hips with his, and moved his hand back under her jumper, plucking at her nipple like a soft petal, pinching it to make it stand at attention, watching her watch him.

“John, you… you never said anything,” she looked up into his eyes, begging him to tell her the truth he’d kept locked away for months.

“This isn’t even the half of it, girl,” he started to kiss her neck, sucking at her skin, his body writhing on top of hers, mimicking actions it would soon employ once he could get her out of her clothes, “I’ve wanted you for so. Fucking. Long.”

She moaned at the way he was kissing her throat with his bearded mouth, licking her with his long tongue. She cradled his furry cheek in her hand, enjoying the feel of its coarse hairs, whispering to him,

“When he leaves, you’re the one I picture. In my head.”

She might as well have lit a bomb. That was all he needed to hear.

He was strong enough to hoist her up onto the counter with one of his arms, wrapping it around her waist and setting her on the edge, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his huge body in between them. He tugged on her braid, using it to expose her smooth throat. She gasped, reaching out to steady herself.

The captain stood over her, looming like a dark beast, warning her in his quiet, steady voice,

“If I ever, and I mean ever, hear that little prick banging your headboard on my wall again, it’ll be his last day above ground. Am I crystal clear, love?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, a little uncertain how serious he was.

“Good girl.”

Price let go of her hair and scooped her off of the counter, carrying her with her legs locked behind him, through the small flat, and crashed to the bed where she’d just been disappointed. He vowed to her, silently, that he would do anything but disappoint.

Clothes started coming off in peeled layers; shirts, bras, pants, underwear - everything was shucked away like the rind of a melon, leaving only the soft, sticky inside, ripe and ready to be devoured. Price made his way down her body, biting and sucking whenever he wanted to do so, leaving a trail of teeth marks behind. Eventually, he could feel the heat of her pussy against his cheek, and it made him shudder.

He had pulled her phone into his pocket, and now he wanted to twist the knife. He called The Boyfriend and sent his own number straight to voicemail, preparing to leave a delicious message.

As he began to eat her juices, sucking them off her folds like the drippings from a popsicle, he started to hear little mewlings, soft and sweet, but very reserved. He glanced up at the rest of his meal, wondering why she was holding back. Then, he remembered The Boyfriend’s number one rule.

“Look at me,” Price ordered from beneath her thighs.

She hesitated, trying to hide her shame, putting her face in her hands, breathing heavy and ragged.

He reached both hands up to grab her ribs, coming up and out from his position to let her get a better look at him.

“Look at me, love.” It was a softer, lower tone, and she came out of hiding to obey him. He continued to command her, gently, “I want to hear your pleasure, sweetness. The louder you get, the harder I get. I hope the whole bloody city hears you tonight.”

“Are you sure? You like it?” Fuck if he wasn’t about to hunt that man down and execute him, authority or not.

“God, yes, love. Let me make you scream.”

This voicemail was going to be incredible.

He returned to his duty post between her legs, excited to start his work anew. This time, as his tongue worked her open, fucking liquidly in and out of her pink hole, swirling up around her clit, and exploring every hidden gem between them, he listened to her keening. It was soft at first, but then, when he began to stretch her, pushing down with his two, rough fingers, thrusting them slowly in and out, she started to come. Her cries were incredible. She was screaming for him to fuck her, to take her, to do anything to her, and he loved it.

Crawling back over her, Price used his heavy cockhead to paint drooling precome all over her slick slit, soaking himself so he could more easily fit himself into her core. He didn’t want to hurt her, and other lovers had trained him to know that his was big enough to be a weapon.

“That’s my good girl. Do you feel good, you sweet little thing? You’re a fucking dream. Tell me that you’re ready for this cock in you. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me, love.”

She was shaking from her orgasm, looking at him, bewildered, and she rushed the words out of her mouth like fire,

“I need it, please. John, I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, please, John. Put your cock in me,” and, like magic, Price obliged. Just as good at taking orders as he was at giving them.

Feeding his length inside of her wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that she was coming while he tried to do it. Price had a hand steadily working her clit, wetly pressing it where she needed it, and she was clenching against him so tightly, like a wet, molten fist, that it nearly pushed him out of her. He grabbed her body, looping his enormous arm behind her back, and shoved her down, locking her against his hips, deliciously impaled.

Her face was twisted into the most beautiful kind of agony, and as she came down from her high, he began to move in her. After she bloomed around his cock, opening like a flower, he was able to fuck into her even deeper, groaning with each of his thrusts. She gasped,

“Oh, God. John, you’re so good. You’re not done yet?”

He laughed, out loud and brazenly, holding her tighter,

“Oh, lovely girl, no. No,” he smiled down at his pretty little neighbor, “Those days are gone. I’m going to be inside of you all fucking night.”

#captain john price #captain price #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #cod #captain price pov

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chaethewriter · 1 year

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You're dead to me [9]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, angst, fluff, gore, idk how hospital stuff works.

Word count: 3,4k

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Jake Sully's eyes shot open, immediately rising his upper body from the mossy ground. He gasped as he felt a pain pierce through his body. His body was covered in cuts and wounds, blood dripping from his head. His memory was restoring as his brain was processing what he saw: you on the ground dying. He remembered your rolled-back eyes as blood dripped from your mouth and nose. Truly a traumatic sight. He frantically looked around the warzone, in search for you. You were in his arms what felt like mere seconds ago. What happened? Where were you? Dead Na'vi lay on the mossy ground, some were headless while others had their limbs broken, staring at the sky with lifeless eyes. He got up from the ground, ignoring the pain shooting through his spine as he frantically looked for you. He wanted to scream, cry your name. Yet he couldn't, it felt like his vocal cords were ripped out of his throat, no sound able to leave his lips. Running past the dead bodies and not seeing your face, he didn't know what to feel: sad because he couldn't find you or happy that you weren't dead. The world around him turned black, the sky pitch black as everyone around him disappeared. "Daddy?" He collapsed on his knees as he saw you in front of him, small little girl with a plushie in your hands. He tried to get up, but he couldn't move one bit, his legs paralyzed and he felt hopeless once again as his physical body didn't respond: just like his human body. From behind you, Jake could see someone emerge from the shadows. The black figure had a knife pressed to your throat, "daddy help!! Daddy!!" He tried his best to raise his legs, move his fingers, anything, but nothing worked. The tears rolled down his face as the knife dug into your skin, eventually slicing through your throat, through your skin. You fell to your knees, the plushie he brought you falling to the floor. "Daddy.." you mumbled as the blood left your throat, spurting out as you fell to the ground. Jake Sully looked at the scene in front of him in horror. He wanted to look away, but something was stopping him from doing so. As if someone was holding his head into place and keeping his eyes from shutting. If one could hear his scream, it was one out of a horror movie. He felt himself shaking frantically and then everything once again faded to black.

You felt your body being shaken and a faint voice calling out your name. You tried to focus on your surroundings and regaining your consciousness. Your arms were flat on the ground, which made your bare hands touch the ground. Dirt, dry to the touch. You could feel the wind blowing, you were outside. That's when you remembered. You were in a warzone, a battlefield. "Sissy please!!" You tried to move your fingertips as you heard a familiar voice. Neteyam. His arms were wrapped around you as he carried you bridal style. Your head twitched toward his warmth as you slowly opened his eyes. You felt dizzy, everything looked blurry to you. But you could see blue figure holding you, the blue figure that is Neteyam. He was all scratched up himself, but no worse than you. The main reason being that you saved him with your push, the scratches from his fall rather than from the explosion. He ran through the warzone, all the way to the back which the enemies didn't reach yet. "My people, take the supplies and fall back to high camp!!" His voice boomed as he ran to alert his people. "Seze!!" He proceeded to screech as he called for his Ikran. He named his Ikran after his mother's late Ikran. She told him his Ikran resembled it as if it was meant to happen. Like mother like son. Seze landed on the ground, its wings flapping through the air as it screeched for Neteyam. He quickly made tsaheylu, the bond, as he jumped on his Ikran with ease with you in his arms. Your body was all bloody with blood dripping down from one of your eyes, seeping into your mask. It made you slightly choke on your breath. "Neteyam..?" You saw red and blurry all at the same time. "Yes sissy it's me, don't worry you'll be okay. I got you." You saw his lips moving as he spoke, but you could barely make out what he said, your ears ringing violently making your headache. When Neteyam's Ikran took off into the air, the impact made your head spin. The three of you soared through the sky and back to high camp. Neteyam apologized with tears in his eyes whenever you complained in babbles or whined in pain, the aggressiveness of his flying making this entire ride uncomfortable and painful. Yet he couldn't take his sweet time. He had to get you help as quick as possible.

"Lo'ak! My son!" Neytiri, who was soaring into the sky this entire time to take the enemies down, watched as her son's Ikran flew at the speed of light. She was mostly busy in the sky. With the enemies that suddenly came attacking with what the humans call missiles, she was mainly focused on killing. The missiles did great damage to the teams on the ground, so she could only hope there weren't many losses. Neither Neteyam nor Lo'ak called the enemies in, so when he flew past her, she tried calling after him when he neared her, but to no avail. She could see him holding onto a huge figure when he was close. He didn't hear her calling, which was surprising considering their good hearing. Was he ignoring his own mother? She couldn't fly after him and even if she did she wouldn't be able to catch up with him at that speed. She took note to lecture him how dangerous that was and how he was disobeying direct orders. He was supposed to be a spotter with Neteyam. She also wondered where her oldest son was, but for now there were more important things to do. With no other spotters as Lo'ak flew off, Neteyam was nowhere to be found. And where was her mate? Her Jake? Worrying wasn't her main priority at the moment. She was a trained warrior, daughter of the Tsahik. She had her people to take care of, so the only thing she could do right is watch over her people while praying to the great mother her family was alright. "My people, take the supplies and fall back to high camp!!" She caught the screams of her oldest son as she watched him carry you in his arms, all bruised up and bleeding. What in the hell happened?

"GRANDMOTHER!!" Neteyam was the first of the war party to arrive back in high camp. Everyone was cheering at the return of the future Olo'eyktan, but instead of them coming face to face with their mighty warrior, instead they saw a broken young boy in front of them as he held onto your limb body. Mo'at emerged from the rowdy crowd with Kiri, her hands to her mouth as she saw the condition you were in. For a second her strong facade dropped, but then the serious expression returned to her face, "come, follow me." Neteyam wished his grandmother could walk faster as he followed her footsteps, incredibly impatient to know the current condition of his sister. The four of them entered Mo'at's tent and Neteyam immediately put his sister down on one of the makeshift beds. Kiri went to remove her clothing, not even taking her sweet time with the buttons and zippers: she full on cut the clothing off you with her hunter's knife and throwing the shredded pieces behind her. They had to work on you as fast as possible. "What in Eywa's name happened?!" Kiri asked once she finished removing your clothes, stepping away to let the Tsahik do her job. She rushed to the table with herbs and medicines, taking anything that would help reduce your pain. "It all happened so fast and then (Y/N) pushed us away from the explosion and then dad came and tried to protect her but then the explosion went off and then I found her." He rambled on and on, clearly in panic and not thinking straight at all. He wasn't even thinking about his father, who was shielding you from the explosion and probably got the most damage. He fell on his knees as his hands were buried in his braids, "this is my fault, oh eywa, I'm so sorry sissy, please be okay." Kiri's eyes almost fell out of her sockets, "dad is wounded??! Where is he?!?!" She was ready to walk up to Neteyam and shake the living soul out of him, but Mo'at stopped her with her arm. She gave her granddaughter a knowing look. Kiri's gaze softened as she looked at the condition Neteyam was in, tears rolling down his face as he hyperventilated. He was the closest to you, after all.

"OUT OF THE WAY!!" The moment Lo'ak landed in the cave, he jumped off the Ikran with his father on his back. "I NEED HELP! PLEASE HELP!" Jake Sully wasn't breathing, with no groans of pain or curses leaving his lips as he was bleeding everywhere in this condition, Lo'ak knew he had to prepare for the worst. Norm, still in his avatar and who was also at the raid, landed right next to him. He saw everything happen from a few miles away. From the moment you ran away from the explosions, to the moment Jake Sully stepped in, took the hit, and watched his body ascend into the air as he knocked right into one of the crashed helicopters. As one of the Na'vi healers wanted to go up to Lo'ak and help, Norm grabbed Lo'ak shoulder, "follow me! We need him at the lab and hooked on the machines!" Norm knew the spirituality of the Na'vi, wanting to heal their people in the most natural way there is, but no herb could save the condition Jake Sully was in. Maybe Mo'at could perform a ritual, but at the moment hooking him up to machines was maybe the best way for now.

You stirred as Mo'at performed a ritual on you, all kinds of emotions rushing through your body. It felt like your pain slowly disappeared, like an anesthesia that started having an effect. You still saw blurry and your ears rang, but you felt safe knowing the figure holding onto your hand, "Te-" you felt incredibly weak, not even able to say his name. A metallic taste entered your mouth and touched your tastebuds, making you whine. "I'm here sissy, you will be okay." Your mind started wandering back to the explosion. You should have been dead. You were in the middle of the explosion. How were you okay? You pushed your little brothers away to protect them, so who protected you? You tried your best to remember the event, everything was still a mess in your head, but you knew you felt a familiar warmth before you blacked out. Protective. Fatherly. Your eyes widened at the realization. "Where's daddy.." you were weak, but the words managed to escape your lips. Your frantically moved your arms as you wailed, "papa." Neteyam brought both of your hands to his cheeks, hoping his touch would somehow help you. Your sobs left your lips as you cried, the strong warrior facade disappearing as you were now a daughter crying for her dying father. He protected you from the explosion, he stood there as he tried to take most of the hit. After your behavior, he still decided to protect you. Again, you felt the guilt and pain eating you from the inside. You killed their father, her mate. You weren't stupid, you knew what an explosion could do. Kiri took a cloth as she herself felt her eyes tear up, rubbing the skin under your eyes to wipe your tears. "I'm so sorry." Was the one thing that left your lips as you continued wailing, your two siblings sharing your pain with Mo'at quietly finishing the ritual. He was in Eywa's hands now.

"Papa! Let's sit here!" You were carrying a basket in your hands that was almost the same size as you. The two of you were in the city, as you wanted to have a father-daughter date with your dad. You ran to a bench right in front of the mall, putting your basket down as you tried to climb and sit. Jake Sully wheeled your way, as he raised you by your waist to lift you onto the bench. "Thank you papa!!" You giggled and put the basket down next to you, "papa sit here too?" Jake chuckled as you stared expectantly at him. He positioned his wheelchair and raised his butt, quickly moving it to the bench. With your help by holding onto his waist, he managed to sit down. The wheelchair rolled a bit as he moved, but with his feet still on the chair, it managed not to get away. "Thank you babygirl." He pressed a kiss to your temple with a smile. You giggled, feeling incredibly satisfied, as you turned to your left and reached into the basket. "Papa hungy?" You babbled as your head disappeared into the basket, making Jake roar into laughter. "Hey where is my baby?!" He looked around extra confused as he acted like he couldn't see you, his laughter still escaping his lips. You drowned in a fit of giggles and raised your head, "papa here!!" He moved closer to you and tickled your stomach, "are you trying to hide from me! Are you trying to hide from me!" You shook your head at his question, laughing and moving so much to the point you almost fell off the bench. You truly were his home.

"His brain activity is very high for someone that's in terrible condition." Lo'ak watched Max from his seat as he spoke, some device in his hand he thought was called a tablet. "What does that mean?" Lo'ak didn't know any of the smart terms used, he was confused. Was that a good thing? Was his father ever going to wake up? Max taps the tablet as he shrugged, "there could be a spiritual answer to this. Something is happening, something unexplainable." Norm, who switched out of his avatar body, stood next to Max as he watched the screen, "Could it be something similar to connecting to the spirit tree?"

"Do you mean visions?" Norm nodded in response, "He may be in Eywa's hands now." Lo'ak watched his father's expressionless face. He looked so peaceful, without any worries. Whenever Jake looked at him, there was always a frown on his face as his forehead would be creased. In front of him was an expression he never saw on his father before. He never imagined that he would miss that annoyed expression Jake would flash toward him whenever he would cause trouble. He just wished his father would wake up.

Jake felt himself floating, his body fading into nothingness. His eyes were expressionless, as the scene of you dying repeated in his head. "I can't.." he mumbled to himself, believing that you truly had died and that he failed in protecting you, that he was too late in wrapping himself around you, not knowing he was the one in the worst condition. At this point, he closed his eyes, wishing he just died. He couldn't do it without you. "You're terrible, you know that right?" A voice echoed through the darkness and the familiarity made him open his eyes. It was a voice he didn't hear in a while. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't on Pandora. This was earth. Not a sight of green as he stood in an empty city. It wasn't just a city, it was the city he grew up in. The vibe was very gloomy. He looked at his hands, still blue. He was still Na'vi. "Jake, bro don't just ignore me like that." His eyes twitched at that same voice. He looked around, and when he did his surroundings changed. He knew this floor, these walls, and the pictures decorating the mossy green walls. This was his childhood home. He stood in the hallway and slowly made his way to the living room. That's where he saw himself. No, not himself. That wasn't him. It was the only person that looked identical to him. "Good to see you, Jake." Tommy grinned from his seating position on the couch. "Tommy?! You're supposed to be dead! What are you doing here?!" A laugh escaped Tommy's lips in return, motioning for his brother to sit with him, "And you're dying as well, so what are you trying to say?" Jake frowned at that statement. He was dying? What was happening? "You know, you're pretty terrible." Jake took a seat on the much smaller couch in comparison to his size, as he listened to his brother, "how come?"

"Well, first of all, you're a terrible father for both little (Y/N) and your children by blood. Leaving her alone for a new life, THEN!! Then you proceed to also be a terrible father for your Na'vi kids. If I was still alive in my avatar body, I would have been a good man." Tommy explained as he sat back, his hands on the back of his head. Jake wanted to reply, but for some reason, he couldn't talk, as if his mouth got stolen. "Let me finish my talk. You're barely spending time with your kids like a father. Treating them like little soldiers and healers instead of your dad. Then, you try to win little (Y/N) over, proceeding to completely ignore your kids in this process. You're so terrible. And now you're dying!! Wow! The great Jake achieved nothing and he's on his deathbed!!" Tommy clapped while laughing, but Jake couldn't do anything in return. His lip quivered. Was he that bad of a father? He failed everyone around him. His family was his fortress, but he couldn't even be a proper father. "Now now, don't cry. You can come back to life, maybe!" Tommy threw his hand in the air and suddenly Jake could talk again. Sobs left his lips as he got his voice back, "I'm so terrible."

"Good that you realize that!"

"You're not helping, Tommy!" A scream left his lips as he said that. The tears rolled down his cheeks as the realization hit him so hard. "I'm helping though! I'm here to tell you you can live again!" Tommy hit Jake on the back of his head. "But how are you here in the first place?!" This entire thing confused Jake. Was this Eywa's doing? Tommy never went to Pandora and he isn't even connected to a spirit tree. So how? "Listen, I'm as confused as you. But I have been haunting you in my ghost form you know? Anyway, as I was saying. How do you feel about a third chance?" Jake's gaze faltered at that question. He didn't know. He failed as a father, so many times. Did he deserve this one? His second chance was going to Pandora to change his life for the better, but it made him leave his daughter. Now he died, knowing he failed as a father while family was his main priority.

Just what did he do to deserve to live?

A/N: thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought. <3 sorry if this part was kinda lacking, been tired.

Taglist in the comments!!

#dad!jake sully #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x human!reader #dad! jake sully #jake sully x reader #dad!jake x daughter!reader #neteyam #sully family #sully family x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader

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medium-rare-bimbo · 10 months

Text

EDDIE AND HIS CRYPTID GIRLFRIEND

♡Masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

contain: dubcon, somnophilia, drugging(?)

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡ thinking of eddie x cryptid!(?) Reader who is so curious about human norms and stands outside his trailer every night making strange noises and moving things around. He tries to understand you and talk to you maybe even help you but you freeze and runaway :((( he soon starts sitting outside his trailer waiting for you to come back, you stand near the tree line watching him holding eye contact and barely blinking, You look human but the way you act tells him that theres something off about you maybe you're not all mentally there? Each night you get closer to him and eddie starts leaving food a couple of feet infront of him hoping you get close enough so he can ask you something. When you're close enough to the plate you crouch down keeping your eyes on him as you bring the food to your mouth, you're almost animal like. Once eddie sees that you respond well to the food he brings the plate closer to him until you're sitting next to him and hes having an entire one sided conversations with you. He somehow gets you to come inside the trailer and in his room where you're immediately interested in the lamps and strange sticky magazines. He offers the shower to you after he notices your dirt covered feet but you stare blankly at him and he soon realises that he needs to bathe you himself if he wants you clean. It was no easy task however, you were more interested in dragging him into the shower with you than actually getting clean, by the end Eddie was naked and his clothes were soaked and thrown on the floor but you were clean so his job was done. He proceeded to keep you locked in his room and occasionally let you wonder around the trailer park but ONLY at night you've already gave poor old lady edith a heart attack when she caught you staring at her through her windows </3</3 as much as eddie tries to train you to behave you refuse >:(( you were born to make nests in his bed, stare into nothing and freak him out, watch him sleep, kneed his pillow, it's in your DNA how dare he deny you of your instincts >:000 idk I just think they'd be a neat couple <3 breeding kink is through the roof though jesus

♡ (vampire eddie!) OR they meet in the upside down and you're just standing over his barley alive body, his eyes struggling to adjust to the world around and he honestly thinks you're a hallucination

♡ you like standing over him while he sleeps, watching his chest rise and fall, his eyes flickering across his eyelids, the sleep filled murmurs he speaks and the tics of his body. You have been hit multiple times from eddie suddenly waking up. you stare, he wakes, you stare, he screams, you stare, he attacks, you stare.

♡ your pupils are very unsettling, too big or too small theres never an in between. Never.

♡ you bite everything like literally EVERYTHING. Never in his life would eddie think hed have to hide batteries and no he doesnt care if they make your brain fizzy you cant have them >:((

♡ you steal every piece of fabric in the house, blankets, towels, shirts, pants, socks you name it, it's in your 'nest'

♡ you like places you shouldnt be especially small dark places with closed spaces and little room to breathe aka Eddie's closet. It smells like him, it's dark, its warm, what more could you want?

♡ if eddie is eating food you MUST try some, you sit there staring until he gives you a tiny piece. You never ask for more unless he offers preferring to walk off and see if the light stays on when the fridge closes

♡ eddie loves watching you exist, you're a simple creature just living life except you have zero brain cells and you scare everyone. Wow what a shocker that children would be scared of a non blinking creature standing at the edge of the forest

♡ you've followed eddie to school multiple times and only on a few occasions has he caught you although you prefer the night youd do anything to look at your eddie.

♡ there have been many times that eddie has suspected you're just a possessed girl whose going to eat him one day (yeah eat that dick)

Maybe youre severely mentally unwell? hes not sure, your movements are conspicuous and unnatural as if you're not sure how to be human, as if you're body isnt your own yet you act too contemplated for him to draw a direct conclusion. Every movement that comes from your body is planned out, that slow stumble over to the eddie while his back was turned? You were stalking him youre prey. the small cries that left you throat when you both went on a date? You were calling a stag over for a meal disgusing yourself as a baby doe In need of help (eddie quickly shot the idea down)

♡ if any of the gang meet you they 100% think you're from the upside down, and they're right. Nancy has tried to shoot you 17 times <3 only missing 4 times <3 s'okay though you're built different

♡ she meant to shoot you the first 12 times the others were accidents, you kept breaking into her house and staring at her (you also stole some of her things because you thought they looked nice, where those items are now will forever be a mystery) you wanted to know how to be a normal human girl and robin isnt the best at being girly so you had no one else to turn to :(( she gave you a dress that you have never wore, nancy will never forgive you for tormenting her

♡ like to think Steve pushes your head away when you stare at him for too long, an awkward hand to the side of your creepy face your eyes never moving from his. He hates it. Hes also poked you with his bat multiple times when he found you lying on the floor seemingly dead. You dont let him have anything nice, hes drinking out of a coke can? Boom on the floor where it belongs. Pick it up bitch boy

♡ you like hearing what robin says about obscure topics, you pick up items and look at her until she tells you the entire history of how it's made and what it does. She rants to you about her life as she realises that you couldnt care less about anything that goes on in human society, you dont understand why same gender couples 'shouldn't' be together nor do you understand why high school roles exist. Why should you care about a cheerleader? What the hell is a cheerleader? Have you ever met a cheerleader? Whose a cheerleader? What is band practice? Why is she telling you this? Is this what humans go through when they reach as certain age? Turn into basketballs? Are basketballs a type of human?

♡ you think the kids smell weird and refuse to go near them, you stand awkwardly in the corner until eddie leaves then you follow or they blink and you're gone.

♡ Dustin has tried to get close to you but you deny him the attempt. Many many many times has he tried to lure you into a trap with food (just like eddie had) yet you dont even care for the food to busy looking at him in disgust to care

♡ children stinky

♡ Will thinks you're sent to bring him back to the upside down but the truth is you simply couldnt care less, who is vecna? What is a demodog? Demogorgan? Who are these people?

♡ water is your enemy, juice however? Love it! Magical flavourful liquid is amazing, water is plain and boring would you drink it out in the wild? Absolutely but now that eddie has showed you the wonders of squash life has changed

♡ if eddie isnt showering with you then you're not having a shower. You refuse and pull him in with you because how else are you supposed to smell like eddie? Does he expect you to smell like yourself? Not happening >:(((

♡ you've drank his bath water

♡ it was traumatizing for him please never do it again

♡ holding hands <3<3

♡ it's not because he loves you so much it's because you cant be trusted

♡ he doesn't like your shape teeth please remove them from his leg and back away

VAMPIRE! eddie

♡ he spits on you because he hates you (he is actually devoted to you and only spits on you because it makes you smell like him)

♡ he doesnt like the way you look at him

♡ you compare teeth together<3<3

♡ you're always throwing him in your "nest" because hes cold, he doesnt have the heart to tell you that hes naturally cold

♡ even as a vampire you still scare the shit out if him, where do you come from? How did you get there? He turned around and you were practically in his skin. Back up

♡♡♡NSFW♡♡♡

♡ breeding kink ™️

♡ eddie is your mate and your mate only!! whoever this "fleshlight" is needs to back off >:000 you're the only thing that deserves to have his cum

♡ you like his cock!!! You love how its tastes and how it twitches in your mouth, you love how his precum coats your tongue, you love the way your jaw aches from how wide you have to open your mouth <3<3<3<3 you like when hes soft too, you like playing with his foreskin and kissing his tip when it peaks out or just watching it become hard <3

♡ your obsessed with making out with him!!! Even more obsessed with receiving/giving hickeys!!!! Marks are everything to you, it's how you show the world you have a mate although eddie did have to vigorously explain that he cant walk around with a dark people neck (he has thighs so it's okay)

♡ if eddie has his attention on anything other than you it's like a wet dream for him. One second he was toning his guitar next thing he knows you're presenting to him like a cat, naked, bent over, holes visible to him and him only. The first few times this happened he thought he was dreaming

♡ you refuse to wear pants, the most he can get you in is shorts and even then you only wear them when Wayne is home. You're usually wearing his shirt and panties or just his shirt, he takes advantage of the times you decide that panties are awful

♡ eddie has been woken up to you sucking/bouncing on his cock many times. hes in a good mood for the rest of the day

♡ he spanked you once without thinking, you had just finished rooting in the cupboards looking for your fav carton of fruit juice when he reached above you for a mug, you walked off and he unconsciously slapped your ass. You've never been the same since, whenever you feel the urge to get your ass smacked you wonder over to eddie and place his hand on your ass and no you dont care that he has people over

♡ you ate some of his edibles (it was multiple times) you got so horny that you rode eddie until he passed out, when he woke up you were still going at it. He walked funny for a week or two, each swing of his legs jostling his sensitive cock however he would 100% do it again

♡ eddie fingers you while he does basic tasks, brushing his teeth? Hes shirtless with messy hair, a toothbrush in his mouth as your bent over the bathroom sink stuffed with his fingers. No attention is directed to you, too occupied with getting ready for him to care about how your fucking yourself back on his fingers.

♡ you have stuffed several rings of Eddie's inside you why? Because love <3 you only do it so he has to fish them out of you

"Y/N where are my rings?"

"I think you know"

♡ eddie had to buy you a couple of sex toys because as much as he loves to be inside you his dick needs a break. You currently have a small collection of a 2 dildos, a vibrator, a bullet vibrator, 2 plugs (one for each hole) and a bottle of lube that rarely gets used. On several occasions he has found you double stuffed and passed out. he doesnt take your toys out simply lays down next to you and falls asleep

♡ blood <3 you love his !! Very tasty and yummy would eat again.

♡ you sat on his face once and almost drowned him, you were in and out of consciousness after your orgasm shook you. Eddie has oral skills <3

♡ predator + prey kink? YES, you dont care whose the prey or whose the predator as long as you're being stuffed. Something about chasing for your prize /being chased gets you going

♡ eddie let's you hump his leg while he writes up a new campaign

♡ He likes pinching your tongue and watching your salvia drip down his fingers

♡ he got you a collar and leash <3

VAMPIRE! Eddie

♡ he bit you and you came

♡ you both share a primal kink

♡ you thought your breeding kink was bad before its even worse now.

♡ he has shoves you against trees and fucks you until you cry, theres a lot of snarling and growling involved

♡ definitely scents you after he feeds

#stranger things x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanons #cryptid reader

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carlplsrailme · 1 year

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𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

summary: as enid flips through magazines and you complain about your skincare troubles, she tosses you a page that states "using boyfriends sperm is better than any skincare" and you decide to try it out with carl

carl grimes x fem!reader

cw: dick sucking, cum sitting on face, ball squeezing, etc etc

word count: 1k

request: Ok so i just saw a Video where a Girl Was using his Boyfriends Cum for Skincare,then i had a idea. So like Yn complains to Enid that she hates that she cant find Skincare anywhere ( Zombie Apocalypse) and then enid throws Yn a Magazine in her Face and it says something like "Boyfriends Sperm is better than any Skincare" and then Yn ask Carl and yk smut🤪🤪🤪

you scrape the dirt under your nails as the unexpected pain runs through your body and you recoil back onto enids bed

"fuck! I forgot how sharp my nails have gotten" you mumble to the girl who's on the floor of the bed, but she just throws a nail clipper behind her back as it lands on the mountain of plush blankets

"thanks..." you mumble, expecting this normal girls' day would consist of a lot more than her ignoring you as you stumble around

"so, what were you saying?" her voice rips you out of your whining and you roll onto your stomach, putting your nails out in front of your face as you line the metal clipper with them before hearing a satisfying snap

"I know the world ended..." you jokingly start and she feeds you with a snort

"but I'm really pissed about my face wash" you confessed, another snap coming from your clippers as you move to the next hand

"what's wrong with it?"

"there's nothing to be wrong with it. it's just an empty bottle" you giggle as you clip the last nail before folding it and sitting up, you tap it against enids shoulder and your eyes move to the paper spread out on her legs

"Top ten skincare tricks of 2010?" you snort as she turns around, grabbing the forgotten clipper as you stare stars into the magazine she's gripping

you assumed she's been reading one of her comics this whole time, not pages with possible answers to your all your problems!

paper smacking your nose brought you back as the magazine slid down your face, cover on display as it lays on her fleece bed

"Boyfriends Sperm is better than any Skincare?" you gape, the model on the cover who's on her knees while a white liquid spurts onto her face. this wasn't a skincare magazine...this was a fucking porno

"Enid! what the hell!" you fall back, laughing as she nonchalantly grabs the magazine back, flipping to the page she was already at

"yeah, and I heard it's true" "from where? the fucking walkers?" you say in between your laughs

"it lists the benefits here, if you ever want to try with carl" she tosses it at you with the familiar page screaming at you

"ok, ok, Top ten Skincare Tricks of 2010..." you bit your knuckle to stop your laughing as you begin the list

"use boyfriend's sperm for...baby soft skin-" you couldn't stop your laughing as enid joins, again, snatching the magazine from you when your grip on it looked a little too tight

"don't rip this shit!" she says between her giggles, stomach aching from laughing as you sit up

"whatever, I'm using the hand soap instead of that, any day"

that entire conversation rings in your head as carl kisses down your neck in the shower, his hands traveling down your body as the boiling water meets with your skin

his dick rutting into your thigh softly as he begs for friction, your hands move down as your grip it with ease. his cock stood tall as veins shot out at his pearly tip gleamed with pre

you moved down, knees meeting with the wet tile as you squeezed your legs together, feeling your wetness run down your thigh as your cunt ached

"Carl..." you started, you looked up at him as you stroked his cock,

"do you think you can give me a facial?" you ask, you watch as his brows furrowed and face reddening, dick twitching in your hands at the thought of shooting his cum on your face

"w-what I-" "I read somewhere it's really beneficial for my skin" you spoke as you took him in, lips wrapped around his cock as the plush walls of your warm mouth sucked him in

"fuck" his head fell back onto the tile as your head bobbed, his fingers wrapped around your hair, not to guide you, just to encourage what a mess you're already making of him

your hand reached over to cup one of his balls squeezing softly as he squirms from the touch

"fuck! where did you- learn this!" Page 89 you internally snort to yourself as he endlessly moaned, you felt his cock twitch in your throat as you removed him from your mouth, jerking him above your face as you look up at him

once you heard the words "I'm cumming!" leave his mouth you closed your eyes as his warm cum squirted on your pretty face, baby batter spreading on your features as you knelt there with a cum-soaked face

you felt his fingers soothingly rub on your cheeks, collecting his own semen but he didn't mind as he asked you "do you want me to wash this off?"

"they said to wait as least 3 minutes"

"what?" "what."

an: wow I love this request! this was so fun to write and made my day! thank you so much for requesting this!! ❤︎ ilysm <33

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peachsukii · 3 months

Text

fem!reader has a hard time coping with the current situation. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 tw/cw: mentions of hospital equipment, grief, angst ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — I can go anywhere I want - anywhere I want, just not home. And you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones. And I still talk to you when I’m screaming at the sky. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

Walking along the pathway of the riverbank, you listened to the soft sounds of the water lazily flowing by while finding a spot in the grass. You lie back with your hands behind your head, gazing up at the sunset in the sky. The clouds were painted with beautiful streaks of peach, lavender and fuchsia, swirling into a perfect blend of tropical bliss. The colors offered a semblance of comfort after a long day of patrol - 14 hours, to be exact. The current condition of your hero suit was more than enough evidence of the grueling day. If it could talk, it would be begging to be washed. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your phone to check the time. 5:47pm The exhaustion was creeping along your aching muscles, warning you to head home before you lack the will to do so. There’s one thing you came here to do - that you needed to be here to do.

You tap the lock screen of the phone and swipe to your contacts. In the favorites list, you click on your favorite name in the whole world.

“ 💥 Katsuki 🧡 ”

The line rings a handful of times before it goes to voicemail, beeping in your ear. Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak excitedly.

“Hey ‘Suki. Today was a busy as hell - sorry I didn’t get a chance to call earlier. I had the sweetest little girl thank me today for helping her and her mom bring their groceries to their doorstep. She came running over to me and asked for help, I couldn’t resist. You should have seen her cute little cheeks, Kats, covered in freckles around her precious blue eyes. It was only six bags, the mom was so embarrassed! I kept telling her it was no trouble, that’s what heroes do. And then…,” you pause.

“Sorry, I’m rambling again. I must be picking it up from Izuku. Anyways, I’ll be heading home in a bit. I needed to clear my head after a long day and swung by our favorite spot by the river.”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, unable to hold back the tear rolling down your dirt stained cheek.

“I’ll be stopping by to visit soon. I’m sorry for not coming by earlier this week, you know how it is with our line of work. I'll be sure to grab your favorite flowers, too. Tiger lilies, right?”

You bite your lip to swallow the sob lodged in your throat.

“I miss you…more than you could ever know. I love you, Katsuki. I’ll talk to you later.”

You click the “End Call” button with trembling fingers. A picture of Katsuki, smiling ear to ear with your face squished up against his cheek on a sunny day, appears briefly as his contact picture fades to black.

“You’re going to wake up, I know you are,” you murmur to yourself through broken hiccups. “You’re not gone…you’re going to wake up, Katsuki. You have to.”

The reality of the situation weighs on your shoulders, but that didn’t mean you had to live in said reality…not yet, anyways.

Until the faint droning of Katsuki's heartbeat monitor was silenced, he was alive.

He's just resting.

i've been listening to "my tears ricochet" too much and the 'just not home' lyric always reminds me of not being able to return to someone you love, or somewhere you loved :( ** i ended up reposting/reworking this to be fem!reader instead of bakudeku cause it just didn't feel like it worked? i like this way better lol

You can read part two here!!

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academia #bakugo x y/n #bakugo drabble #bakugo headcanons #my hero academia headcanons #bakugo x you #bakugou x reader #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo angst #☆.rei writes

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bunnyreaper · 4 months

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a highland warrior of the mactavish clan is there when you need him most.

(18+/MDNI, attempted noncon)

one minute, everything was fine, just a part of your normal routine foraging in the woods--the next, your world was turned upside down.

you should've known better than to wander further than usual, beyond the glade which the alderman had warned you several times not to go past.

you're leaning over, inspecting the pretty little flowers on the ground, when your face is pushed into the dirt, your arse forced into the air as your skirts are forced up and over your mound.

"and what do we have here but the finest flower of spring?"

you scream as you kick and squirm, desperately scrambling to find purchase on the ground in a way that will allow you to wiggle free--but the man above you, his accent familiar, is so much stronger. your shift is up as you scream yourself hoarse, fat tears ripping from your eyes in anticipation of what's to come.

"it'll be much easier if you don't fight me, sweetness."

time freezes as you hear a metallic clink--what your fear-addled mind assumes to be a belt buckle, until a strong, scottish accent cuts through the forest.

"this'd be much easier if i cut ye wee english prick right awf." "off 'er, did nae one teach ye manners? and ye say we're the savages."

"don't kill me."

you dare to glance over your shoulder, slowly turning until you see your assailant, head tilted back with a sword right to the column of his throat--and behind him, a crazed scotsman, baring his teeth just as he bares his sword.

the man atop of you slowly pulls off of you, moving so slowly as to not catch his throat on the sharp blade. the highlander pulls him to his full height, almost dangling by his feet as he balances in the brawny arms of the much bigger, stronger warrior.

the sword slides along the rogue's throat, enough to draw a trickle of blood but not much more, before it falls to the side of both men's bodies.

"now, i suggest ye run before i cut ye down proper." he growls, kicking the man away as his scrambling figure almost collapses into the dirt, much like you had. the highlander lurches forward, swiping the tip of his sword expertly to lash down the other man's back--a precision strike just to wound, not enough to stop his mad dash away and out of the clearing.

you try everything within you to steady your breathing as you lay, exposed, watching your saviour watch the other man's retreating figure.

"i willnae turn round until ye decent, lassie." he announces, his gaze unwavering from the faraway treeline.

your limbs move shakily as you reach behind you, desperate to pull your skirts back over your rear and regain some sense of your dignity. when you're covered, you cough softly, trying to indicate that you're decent enough for the man to turn back around.

his first order of business is helping you to your feet, brushing off as much dirt as he can from your dress, and trying to offer you his most reassuring smile.

you gaze upon him--admiring his fine, strong arms, inked with celtic knots, and surely thick thighs hidden beneath the drape of his tartan. what most strikes you is the kindness in his deep blue eyes, despite being obscured by a jet black warpaint.

the sense of safety that washes over you is... strange.

"name's mavtavish, john mactavish. yer safe now, bonnie girl."

#soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #cw rape #bunny writes #highlander au

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thisisourlovestory · 5 months

Text

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Chapter 1

I woke up early on the day of the reaping. Blinking awake slowly, head spinning from the effects of what even Haymitch from district 12 would class as too much alcohol, not that I’d really ever spoken to him, just from observation. I shuffled into my fluffy slippers and stumbled over to the table in the middle of my kitchen. Sitting down heavily, I groaned as lightning shot through my head and I scrubbed a hand across my face, reaching out to grab a glass of water and downing it in one gulp. Once my head stopped spinning I made myself a cup of coffee, mixing in milk and spooning in an inordinate amount of sugar, I made my way outside and sat on a chair, sipping the too sweet mixture from time to time, hands curled around the mug as I gazed out at the sunrise. Pinks and purples blended together, swirling with orange hues as it got lighter with every passing second. The sun rose above the horizon, bathing me in golden light as I breathed in the fresh air, letting go of all my fears and doubts for a moment to just take in the beauty of the world around me.

The trees swaying gently in the breeze, leaves rustling, songbirds chirping. One landed on my shoulder, twittering a joyful tune in my ear. I tapped my foot to the rhythm, singing quietly, whispering lyrics swept away by the wind. A ringing of the bell snapped me out of it, a harsh reminder of reality, of the games. I gave a grim smile and walked back inside, swigging back the last drops of my drink. Once back in the house I filled up the bathtub with steaming hot water, drizzling some scented oil in it and immediately stepping in. The water burned my skin, turning it red and raw, irritating the cuts on my feet as they stung and I hissed in a vague degree of pain. I grabbed a cloth and scrubbed my body viciously, stripping it of any dead skin and dirt that had collected over the past few days as I had moped around the house just waiting. My hands grabbed a bottle and I poured the contents onto my hair, scraping my nails across my scalp, rinsing it, then tipping a bottle of conditioner into it, massaging the smooth pink substance into my hair, making it smell like honeysuckle, sweet and overpowering.

I drained the bathtub and stepped out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. I picked through my clothes, discarding some to one side and placing others over the mirror in my room. I ended up with three options and I frowned as I assessed them. I didn't want something that would make me seem weak, but I still needed to portray the innocence of a child that the Capitol loved me for. Eventually, I settled for a light green dress that fell just above my knees, I studied myself closely, the dress clung to my upper half but flared out at the waist, the loose sleeves covering the mark on my wrist. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, it was perfect; for a second I looked like a girl. A normal girl who hadn't been affected by witnessing death, who got to live a happy ordinary life with her family. And for just that one second I wished selfishly with all my heart that I could be with the person the universe chose for me, because he loved me. I snapped out of my daze and stared into the mirror, light reflecting off the surface and bouncing around my room. I turned away and face planted on my bed, the mattress muffling my scream of anger. My fingers gripped the sheets tightly, refusing to let go for a second as my breathing quickened and tears pricked my eyes. Now is not the time to cry, I berated myself silently, my nose still buried in the bed. Now was the time to stand up and show that I was not afraid, that they could throw anything at me and I would come back stronger. I sniffled slightly, sitting back up and dangling my legs off the bed as I wiped away a few stray tears. I gazed at my reflection again. So different from the confident girl I had been before, now a pathetic weakling, if that's what a few minutes could do to me then I hated to see what damage hours or days could inflict on me.

I heard people talking outside and moved silently to the window.

“Don't worry, it’ll all be fine.” I knew that voice.

“But what if I get reaped,” I knew that one as well, “I can't go back in there.” I peaked out to see Finnick and Annie, engrossed in conversation.

“I promise I won't let anything happen to you,” Finnick continued, gripping her arms and staring at her, “I promise.”

I smiled sadly at the sight, it hurt a little, it always did but I was happy for them. I truly was. I couldn't let my feelings get in the way of their romance, it was quite clear to me that they belonged together, the universe makes mistakes and it seemed like he and I were one of them. They walked back into his house and I stepped back into my own room, closing the window behind myself and trapping the cold air inside. Shivering, I picked out a white knitted cardigan and pulled it on, the soft fabric providing a thin layer of warmth from the chill. The clock on my wall struck 11, I breathed out deeply and walked downstairs, slipping on a pair of beige sandals, tying the brown leather just around my ankle in a bow. Taking a last look around my house I trailed a hand along some of the pictures lining the walls, photos of my mum and I smiling and laughing together from when I was little. It seemed so long ago now, I was no longer a child and my mum was no longer alive. My hand finished on the last picture, the most recent, one I had snapped a couple of years ago of Finnick and I. It was one of the last times I had spoken to him, before Annie. It had been after a particularly nasty nightmare and he had cooked breakfast, pancakes with syrup. He smiled as I got the sticky substance on my cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. I had laughed and held the camera up, both of us smiling widely as my finger pressed down to take the shot.

It was a reminder of happier times, as happy as they could be at least. I made to step out the door but I remembered something at the last second. My shoes. My ballet shoes. If I was going back then I wanted them as my token. Granted they weren't the pair I had the first time, those had long since worn out, but that didn't change the way every new pair of shoes made me feel. What they made me remember.

I had been 4 when I first decided I wanted to dance. I had seen the Mayor's daughter wearing a pair of ballet shoes and dancing in the garden with them on. I immediately fell in love, and ran home to my mother, so excited I talked about them for hours. Every day from then on I would go and watch the girl dance, I would copy her movements until I could do each and every one with the drop of a hat. Then one day a few years later they caught me watching. They had beat me black and blue and sent me running home crying, knees scraped and clothes torn. My mother had comforted me, singing a lullaby as she rocked me to sleep. The next day I woke up to a pile of books on the table and a box topped with a ribbon. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion but my mother smiled gently and nudged me forwards.

“Open it,” she said, “I think you’ll like it.” My eyes widened as I opened the books, there were pages upon pages of text, instructions, they were tattered and dirty but they taught me everything I knew about ballet. How to do the steps, how to strengthen my body and become more flexible, how to fully immerse myself in the dance and feel the music. Then I turned my attention to the package. I ripped the ribbon off and was greeted with a pair of ballet shoes. Slightly worn and ripped but in my eyes they were perfect. I shrieked in excitement and threw my arms around my mother as she caught me laughing.

“Calm down little bird,” she said, ”it's an early birthday present. And besides,” she continued a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I want free tickets to all your shows.”

I nodded my head, pulling away to look at her.

“Do you think I can actually do it?” I asked innocently. Her gaze became serious.

“You have nothing to prove to them, little bird, you hear me. But they will always look down on you, so you can either let them or you can prove that you are more than what they see.” She paused for a second, “You can do it my little bird, and you will be incredible.” I burrowed into her and she wrapped a soft blanket around us, cradling me like I was a baby again. She passed me the packaging and I lifted the shoes out, holding them carefully, as if the slightest move could break them. My thin fingers traced along the fabric, smoothing the heel over and tapping on the box, grinning in delight at the hollow sound it made.

“Go on,” my mother encouraged, “try them.”

I scrambled to the floor and pulled the shoes on, they were a bit loose but I simply tied the ribbons as tightly as possible and tucked the knot in. I stared down at them as I stood there, they were so beautiful and delicate. I wobbled onto the tips of them, my feet pointed, balancing on the very ends of my toes. My mother clapped as I walked around the small living room in them, being ever so careful to not slip over and ruin them. When I finally took them off, my feet had little blisters on them, I didn't care. I would endure anything to prove myself, to show that I wasn't just another district girl. I went to bed the happiest I'd ever been that night. My mother stroking my hair as I drifted into the dreamworld, filled with thoughts of dancing and performing where everything was perfect.

In the present I shook myself out of my reminiscing and grabbed a pair of the shoes, ribbons dangling loose, tucking them into a small bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I slammed the front door behind myself and strode out of victor's village, down the gravel track to the town. The sharp stones cut my bare feet in pinpricks and I winced, regretting my choice of footwear.

A light breeze brushed against my face and I pulled two pearl hair grips out of my bag, twisting the front strands of my hair and pinning them up together. As I walked, I was surrounded by nature, trees filled with green leaves and song birds, beautiful flowers the colours of jewels, fluffy clouds overhead. I breathed in the fresh air just before I reached town, something took hold in me and I twirled, laughing as the skirt of the dress flew out in a circle, it swished around me as I revelled in a moment of happiness, dancing around like a child, spinning wildly, leaping in the air with my arms spread wide for a final minute of joy. My cheeks flushed as I walked past the peacekeepers who had witnessed my outburst, they stood still, guarding the entrance to town. Making sure no one could escape. I made my way to the justice building, ignoring the looks people threw my way. Disgust, worry, pity a few of them among thousands. I strode to the desk where I had to register.

“Name.” The peacekeeper asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” I answered, holding out my arm for them to take my blood.

They gestured to the stage and I made my way up, taking in the thousands of faces looking up at me. Children probably grateful they wouldn't have to worry this year, parents glad they wouldn't have to lose another child yet. I look to the side at Annie and Mags, both deep in conversation as if they hadn't even noticed my arrival. Mags hugged her reassuringly and my heart cracked a little, wishing I had someone to comfort me like that. I turned back to stare at the wooden floor of the stage remembering the last time I stood here seven years ago after my name had been called.

I had been shaking like a leaf, terrified as I stuttered how old I was. The looks of pity sent my way by everyone and the horrified look on my mothers face as I had walked up escorted by peacekeepers. Lysander read off the boy's name but I couldn't hear anything, my heart pounding in my ears. I had kept my head down as I was led to a room for my last goodbyes. My mother rushed in and held me close as I cried and she wiped my tears then held my face in her hands and told me.

“You fight little bird. You hide and then you fight, you understand. You come home to me, I'll be waiting.” Then she pushed my pointe shoes into my arms and kissed me on the forehead before she was led out, giving me one last smile as I gripped the shoes. Then I was taken to the train and we were on our way to the Capitol

I smiled prettily for the Capitol, shyly answering any of their questions. ‘Yes I was a bit nervous’, ‘I loved to dance’, ‘Of course I could give them a tiny demonstration’, ‘I would try to win, for my mother but I had never known my father’. That got their attention, the poor little girl from district 4, no father, only a mother who she loved dearly, more than her own life. So when I got into the arena I did what mother told me, I hid and I fought and I got out but when I came home she wasn't waiting for me. She was gone. They told me it was an illness, one that was untreatable. So she was gone and I was left alone. I often thought I would have been better off dead. At least then I'd be with her.

All went silent and I was pushed out of my thoughts as our escort walked onto the stage, dressed outlandishly as always in the flashiest colours and cuts of fabric.

“Welcome all to the Quarter Quell,” he starts, “Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour.” The usual video starts to play and I roll my eyes as I hear the words ‘War, terrible war’. It's the same every year, a montage and voiceover which has no purpose anymore. We know what happened, we know what's happening now and we really don't need to be reminded of it. After what seems like an age the clip ends and Lysander claps excitedly, he’s the only one and the noise rings in my ears.

“I get goosebumps every time,” he gushes cheerfully,”It just gets me every time. And now for the moment you've all been waiting for, it is time to choose our tributes for this very special year. First the boys,” He walks over to the huge bowl containing one small piece of paper and dramatically dips his hand in. He picks up the paper and unfolds it painfully slowly. “Finnick Odair.” He announces and I have to fight back a cry as he steps forwards, waving and smiling at the cameras, my fingers itching at my wrist as the mark burns from the close proximity to him. Lysander grins almost maniacally as he congratulates him on this honour. Patting him on the back and exclaiming how exciting this will be

“And now time for the ladies.” He says and walks over to the other bowl with three pieces of paper in. I stand nervously, twisting my hands in the sleeves of my jumper as he reaches in and waves his hand around for a minute before plucking a piece out. He shakes it in front of him and unfolds it as slowly as the first one. I breathe shakily, in out, in out. He reads the name off the slip of paper.

“Annie Cresta!”

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know and I’ll add you to the next part!

#finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #finnick x reader #angst #thg x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #implied finnick x annie

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