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lilacxquartz · 3 days

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under the bed, where midnight slept

oc male!demon x human female!reader

plot: haunted by a strange presence every night before you go to sleep, you decide to get to the bottom of it.

w.c: 2.4k

tags/themes: one shot, oc, maybe light yandere, kissing mentioned, incubus, demons, reader insert, first person pov, light horror, unrequited feelings

side notes: developed a incubus demon oc a couple of days ago :) his name is midnight & i’m basically gonna try writing for him on and off to flesh out his character (but i can’t draw more of him just yet due to the arm situation).

***

I always went to sleep alone.

Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself—that’s what I wanted to believe. I lived by myself, after all, so it would have been silly to assume otherwise.

Yet, every single night, I felt it. A presence that lurked within the shadows, watching my every move.

At first, I chalked it up to simple exhaustion, convinced that my job was finally getting to me in the worst possible way. I worked long and heavy hours throughout the week, sometimes even during weekends. My unfortunate reality meant that I was often very tired, leading me to usually be on the brink of dozing off by the end of my shift.

But then my mind began to wander, especially as the recurring experiences became more and more commonplace. My secondary suspicion was that I must have been dreaming or I must have been hallucinating, however, why were the happenings then so linear? I had been under stress before and I have had many nightmares in my life—yet those always manifested in a chaotic manner instead.

And that’s exactly what started to bother me, because dreams, while recurring, couldn’t have been so perfectly refined.

It was always the same experience, in fact.

I would lie down in bed and just as I was on the verge of sleep, I’d hear it—a whisper of some sort, faint and scratchy, like an out of tune radio. Then the floorboards would softly creak and I would feel the second thing; the unmistakable presence of something, maybe even someone else entering my personal space.

For just a split second, right at the cusp of entering the unconscious world; I would feel a strange warmth fill out my otherwise vacant hand. Something unseen that would latch onto my palm, weaving what felt like fingers through mine and squeezing tight.

Yet if I awoke during the night for whatever reason at all, it would immediately vanish from my grasp.

I even checked under the bed with a flashlight once, never finding a single shred of evidence.

And in the mornings, the presence wasn’t felt at all.

Although sometimes, a trace of it did remain; a hint of something that was left behind. It was during the nights when I would get up to drink some water from the kitchen or to go use the bathroom, that I didn’t feel entirely alone. It was an unsettling feeling but it was there—lurking in my peripheral vision, just barely staying hidden.

It was the presence of something uninvited.

Whenever I’d flick the lights on however, there would be absolutely nothing. Not a single trace of evidence remained. Lost overnight, like a distant dream.

It would either happen just as I was about to fall asleep or not at all.

Despite this, it never truly felt like it was a problem.

For one, it wasn’t as if it was actually disrupting my sleep. In fact, I would always wake up feeling well rested with each fresh day no matter how overworked I would be. Yet, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there must have been more to all of this. Something that lurked in the back of my mind that refused to let it go as an unsolved mystery.

It made sense given my stubborn personality, I supposed. I knew that there had to be a reason for it all, no matter how insane it all seemed.

So when my unrelenting curiosity finally caved in, I could no longer ignore the unanswered question, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to let it go until I finally found an answer.

Whether it was all in my head or not—I had the right to know.

So, on one particular night, I chose to catch whatever it actually was that lurked away in the shadows. My plan was simple enough; choosing to fool it into showing itself by pretending to sleep. I slipped two wireless earbuds into my ears, tuning them into a podcast to hold my attention before laying off to my side, just like usual.

To ensure that I would actually stay awake however, I would on occasion stretch out my legs or clench my fists to ward off any hints of exhaustion along with deep, slowly measured breaths that casted the illusion of feigned slumber.

I continued with that sort of ritual in mind, just barely hanging onto my remaining consciousness, just about to fall asleep from what I believed to be a failed effort, but that’s also right about when I finally heard it; a subtle creaking, perfectly timed with each drawn out breath to mask its approach.

A shiver of unease crept into my body as I felt a lurking presence loom behind me, confirming to every sense I had that I was no longer alone.

In an attempt of bravery, I continued to feign sleep for as long as I possibly could, staying tucked away into my assigned position, having my hand right where it always was, hoping to successfully delude whatever it was waiting for me that I was actually on the verge of dreaming.

However, the moment that something slipped into my waiting hand, my composure began to crumble away. It was definitely a hand that I felt. I could feel it with every fibre of my being, in fact; so warm and soft, yet with an unsettling firmness, like marbled flesh. It clasped my palm tightly, interlocking its digits between my fingers in what felt like a suffocating grip.

My breath then caught in the back of my throat as the momentum faltered despite my efforts to keep my act running as smooth as possible. Towards the surface of my back, I felt something dangerous settle right behind me. Raw skin, hot against my own, pressed up right against my exposed flesh. A wave of panic coursed through my body, anchoring in the pit of my stomach as I then soon felt something attempt to embrace me.

I gasped in retaliation, unintentionally giving away that I was in fact awake.

Without even waiting for its reaction, my body involuntarily tensed, prompting for it to withdraw slightly and with a surge of adrenaline, I then tore away from the unknown presence—lurching to the other side of the bed and pressing my back right up against the wall.

I knew for a fact that it disliked bright lights, so my next course of action was to seize the opportunity of the moonlight that shone right outside to reveal its identity to me instead. With a swift pinch, I flung the blinds open, bathing my bedroom in a cold glow that revealed a monstrous figure to me, basking it in the soft blue light.

At first when I saw it, I didn’t really have a reaction.

I was left feeling stunned… speechless, even.

It was so beyond anything I could comprehend from this world, that I was left rendered unable to form a single coherent thought.

I mean, who could do anything different in my shoes?

Just over the bed sat a kneeling figure; its form shrouded entirely in wisping shadows—its body flickering like black fire with tendrils of darkness whipping from its void-like core. The creature’s eyes glowed a pale grey with lacking pupils, yet I knew that its gaze was pointed right at me.

My eyes continued to widen as I studied it—a rushed slurry of internal scolding flooding my mind, telling me off for daring to be so curious.

Back then, I didn’t know what to expect.

But it certainly wasn’t a monster.

Still, in spite of my fear, I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to learn more about the entity I shared a living space with.

With trembling courage and an insecure tone, I managed to utter, “What… are you?”

The creature’s initial reaction in response to me was to remain stationary, as if showing hesitation within its otherwise threatening demeanour. It then tilted its head to the side, emitting a low static-like hum that only continued to feed further into my unease.

Finally, however, it spoke.

“Don’t be afraid,” were its first words ever to me; it had a deep and almost melodic voice, almost human-like but tainted with something deceptive below the surface. I felt like a deluded sailor talking to a siren lost at sea, yet I was right at home.

I choked back any possible response I had brewing in the back of my mind though, paralysed by my own panic that locked my words somewhere far away. My heart thundered deep within my chest, drowning out all remaining rational thought and sent waves of fear coursing through my entire body.

I was trapped.

A tense moment passed us both by as nothing was said for a while, but then it started to back away from the bed and slowly arose to reveal its true height. Its features became clearer in the moonlight, revealing protruding horns from its head with long wavy locks of black hair.

I gulped hard as I watched it straighten its back and tower over me, its height just barely contained by the confines of my own bedroom—its horns almost scraping against the ceiling. I could just hardly, if at all, comprehend just how tall this creature truly was.

“I only wish to comfort you,” it insisted, taking a calculated step back. Whether it was to lull me into a false sense of security or not, I couldn’t be too certain and despite its words, I couldn’t shake the feeling of impending dread of it being an actual monster, at least at first.

Such a bizarre and surreal display left me wondering if I was in fact dreaming; my mind desperately grasping at anything that could have explained the impossible sight before me, but upon pinching my own skin, only the sharp sting of reality remained.

“Y-you’re real?” I could only ask, a hint of dismay colouring my voice.

“Yes,” it nodded, confirming my fears.

Another strained silence brewed between us for another minute. I stared at the monster and it looked directly back at me. I did my best in the meantime to express my visual discomfort, hoping that it would continue to leave me alone, however, it instead misinterpreted my stunned silence as an invitation to move forward and close the distance between us.

As it leaned in, I pressed myself harder against the wall in a last attempt to convey my reluctance, hoping—praying, that it would take it as a hint to finally back off, but it persisted, ignoring my silent protest and leaving me frozen from fear instead.

With continued building terror, I watched as the creature reached out, extending its hand towards me with what appeared to be sharp fingernails—brushing against my face before cupping my cheeks. I felt its fingers curl around the base of my skull, pulling me closer than what I was comfortable with, daring to press its face against my own, planting a kiss upon my lips.

I shuddered in relief as it slowly withdrew, leaving me once again separated away from it by a short distance. I still couldn’t make out a single feature on its form despite such closeness and yet the memory of its lips on mine lingered with the taste of its ashen breath.

I couldn’t help but feel violated after, yet some familiarity brewed, prompting a disturbing revelation to consider; has this thing done something similar to me before—perhaps when I was fast asleep?

My mind stirred at the thought either way, leaving behind a chill of unrelenting unease that rolled down my spine.

The monster continued to back away until it stood a comfortable distance away from me, leaving me feeling somehow confused. It was a strange situation no matter how I looked at it; it didn’t seem to want to harm nor consume me, rather only offering its touch and comfort.

It was almost as if it sought companionship from me instead.

I watched warily as it drifted just a little closer once more, as if struggling with its own inability to stay away.

“Please,” it pleaded, its tone bordering on desperate, “I only wish for you to sleep well.”

Perhaps it was the lingering aftermath of the kiss that was clouding my judgement, or maybe it was the lack of sleep after a long day, but something within me urged for me to finally surrender to its will, to let my guard down at long last.

Even if it didn’t feel like it was my own decision, at the time.

Swayed by a force unseen, relaxing my senses like some type of sedative.

So against my better judgement, I reluctantly gave in with a reassuring nod, allowing for it to move closer again all the while I did the same.

It wasn’t that I was suddenly unafraid of the monster that was on my bed, rather that I wanted for the peaceful nights to continue.

They were all I had left going for me in this otherwise unforgiving world, my only remaining comfort at the end of a long day.

I proceeded to lay back down on the bed, turning my body off to the side as usual, feeling its presence press against me once more. Its form seemed to envelop me; the shadows that spilled from its core encasing me in a suffocating shroud that pulled me into the darkness along with it. I felt as my own body gradually stiffened, slowly losing the ability to move a single inch at all, yet oddly enough, I didn’t feel a single hint of dread at all anymore.

All I felt was its comfort and warmth instead.

My eyelids drooped heavily as I finally surrendered to my own exhaustion, feeling them weld shut.

I then felt as the monster tightened its grip around me, pulling me even deeper into its personal space. Its breath felt fiery against my flesh as it dug its face into the crook of my neck, displaying an almost protective and maybe even wanting embrace.

As I drifted off into sleep and as its hold continued to tighten, it whispered something into my ear just as I was about to truly go under.

With a body that could have been sculpted from fire alone, its words felt somehow chilling and devoid of any remaining warmth. Its voice was no longer laced with a friendly tone, instead spiked with something much more sinister in its place.

“I’m never letting you go.”

And in that moment, everything changed.

My life was never the same again.

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flwrstqr · 2 months

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POLAROID MEMORIES EVENT — an enhypen collab by @lilacnini & @nishions .

# ABOUT — as the embrace of spring envelops the earth, it beckons forth a season adorned with love and beauty. with a quarter of the year tenderly tucked away, memories, like delicate petals, unfurl, weaving together moments shared with cherished ones. The memories of dates, laughter echoing through time, and the gentle caress of affection intertwine to form warmth and nostalgia. Spring, with its soft whispers of renewal, unfurls a new chapter, inviting us to wander through the gardens of cherished memories once more.

# NOTE — new collab with @nishions, or liz!! im so excited to see everyone's works and ideas into this beautiful collab project! i hope everyone enjoys it <3

GUIDELINES —

ONE. STATUS —all entries are full

TWO. to participate, please send an ask to either liz (@nishions) or nini (@lilacnini) with your chosen member and the two keywords that are hidden in the rules. there will be two slots available for each member (excluding me and liz's pieces) please like & reblog this post to help boost this. first keyword is nostalgia

THREE. your work must have synopsis, genre, warnings, and word count before the main content. works with over 500 words must have a read more cut. use the tag "# ⋆.˚nin-liz event" in the first five tags for both me and liz to find it. you may either tag me or liz in your work as an alternative method.

FOUR. the written piece may be a oneshot, timestamp, long fic, and etc. (if writing any timestamp, it must be 400+ word count) and must be member x reader or member x oc. no drabbles, thoughts, series, or smaus!

FIVE. theme of this event is memories of being together. this can be in any form like angst or fluff. it can be any moment as well, but note to keep it sfw. second keyword is love.

SIX. please submit your work by 11 MAY 2024! drop outs are 30 APR 2024

SEVEN. plagiarism is strictly prohibited & will not be tolerated.

EIGHT. strictly no smut. suggestive or mature themes (death, violence, substance use, etc.) are not permitted. no racism, ableism, homophobia or similar prejudices. you will be removed from the collab.

NINE. please don’t be afraid to reach out to either of us if you have any questions or concerns! have fun writing !!

SLOTS & FICS — ENTRIES IN RED MEANS THEY'RE FULL

HEESEUNG · @lilacnini @enhasver

JAY · (2 person claimed but not finished)

JAKE · (2 person claimed, but not finished)

SUNGHOON · (2 ppl claimed, but not finished)

SUNOO · @stariikis (1 person claimed but not finished)

JUNGWON · @wonifullove

RIKI · @nishions @ms-no1kpopstan

O1. PAINTING DAY - LHS (@lilacnini)

you have many favorite moments with heeseung but your favorite is especially when you paint your boyfriend's nails for fun

O2. LUCKY GIRL - KSN (@stariikis

sure, you're already well known as enhypen member kim sunoo's girlfriend, but that doesn't hinder the thrill of tossing a coin and landing on heads when sunoo chooses you, in the midst of the crowd.

O3. PRIZE - LHS ( @enhasver)

you have lots of memories with your boyfriend heeseung, but one of the most cherished memories that you hold dear with your boyfriend heeseung is the day when you both visited the amusement park.

O4. STRANGERS - NRK ( @ms-no1kpopstan)

you break up with your ex and soon meet a stranger who comforts you throughout the night. but that stranger would be your "future" boyfriend, riki.

O5. THE BOY I LOVE BEFORE - YJW ( @wonifullove)

you discover the gifts your ex once gifted you on every date

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ghouljams · 8 months

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Crybaby Rating: Mature (for horror not smut) Word Count: 7440 Tags: psychological horror, gaslighting, manipulation, monsters, body horror, gore, murder, blood, OC x OC (Threat x Crybaby), bad end, dead dove do not eat, please let me know if I missed anything but please heed the tages Summary: A few weeks ago you met someone at a bar and offered them a couch to crash on. You don't know why you did that, but you can't take it back now.

"Then what did you do?" You ask, hugging a pillow to your chest. You're sitting cross legged on the couch having what your couch surfer has dubbed "slut talk." It's your favorite part of the morning. Somehow despite the late nights your half-invited guest is always awake when you are. You hardly turn the coffee pot off when they wander into the kitchen with messy hair and a yawn.

They hum, "Grabbed a bite and left, same as always." It's a disappointing end to all their stories, you sort of wish there was something exciting to end their nights with. Instead of the usual fuck, eat, leave.

"Do you think people notice when you raid their fridge?" You lean to grab your mug off the coffee table.

"You don't notice when I raid your fridge," they shrug. You roll your eyes.

"Ok, well, you're allowed to raid the fridge, you're sort of living here." You tell them. They shake their head with a smile, lean against the arm of the couch to kick their feet up onto your lap.

"A fact I greatly appreciate and plan on repaying." You nearly choke on your coffee, and wave your hands to dismiss the thought entirely.

"Oh, no, no it's fun having you around. I just wish I had a better bed to offer you."

"I don't mind the couch, but if you wanna cuddle I'm all for it." They wiggle their brows, it's enough to tell you they're only teasing you.

"Funny," you grin, "you're funny."

You check your phone, and unceremoniously shove their feet off you. You've gotta get going if you want to shower before work. It's fun having a couch surfer living with you, but it's definitely tightening your schedule talking to them so much.

You feel eyes on your back as you walk across campus to the metal studio. There’s a new missing poster tacked to the board outside the art building.

This is your least favorite part of your art hobby. Gathering material. You usually only do it once or twice a month, and even that feels too often. If your flat had any sort of garden or nearby trees you could manage, but no you wanted to live in the city. Really it wouldn’t be such a bad trip if the forest didn’t whisper to you, didn’t seem to sink deeper and darker when you stared into it.

You crouch at the edge of the forest picking up pine cones and helicopter seeds. You carefully place them in the appropriate bags to keep them separated while you look for the twigs you like. Thin, but not too thin, with good knotting. You hum quietly to yourself, mostly for the noise of it, and pluck a few of the freshly fallen leaves off the ground. Everything is inspected and saved, or discarded, as you move. It’s a good day for the woods.

They’re quiet. The usual woodland critters sing their song, but otherwise? No voices, no shifting shadows, no spooky shit. You can almost ignore the watched feeling, the tug to go deeper into the trees’ embrace. There’s nothing good in the woods. You’ve known that since you were a child. Wandering too far off your path has always made your stomach squirm.

Which is fine. You’re not adventurous, you have no desire to get lost in the forest. Just like you have no desire to jump out windows or sleep with someone new every night. You wince a little at your own mental tone. You shouldn’t think of your couch surfer like that, they’re perfectly nice and you can’t judge other people’s lifestyles when your own is so sheltered.

You shiver, bunch your shoulders up close to your ears. You can feel eyes on you, but you know better than to look for them. Looking for them just makes the whispers start.

You finish your collection quickly and start back towards civilization.

"You smell good," their voice is in your ear. You nearly jump out of your chair, you hadn't heard them come in. Maybe you'd been too focused on your work, sueding twigs to wax and vice versa. You push your needlepoint glasses up to look at your guest.

"What?"

"You smell good," they repeat. You learned early on in their stay that your guest is a little off. Not just in their sexual escapades but in every way: the way you never see them eat, the way they never seem to sleep, and especially in how they don't seem to have any shame in their compliments.

"I smell like pine cones, I was out in the woods today." You flip your glasses down and go back to your wax work.

"That makes sense," they pick through the other wax figures you've made, shuffling them to the side as they search. "Where's the deer-fly?"

"What deer-fly?" You ask, because you don't want to admit you might believe in monsters to your not-roommate who --despite all signs against it-- seems pretty together mentally.

"You had a cute little deer with helicopter seed wings, I remember you working on it," they pick through your figures again.

"Oh, uh, I cast it." You lie.

"Oh," that's the other thing about your guest, "Ok," they believe you when you lie.

You fidget with your guest’s rings, twisting the gold around their fingers as they lay on their side next to you. You like how intricate they are. You trace your fingers over the thick band around their middle finger. The gnarled gold, like roots, is warm from their skin and dotted with red chip rubies. Their eyes rest on your hands, their cheek resting against their closed fist. You’re not really sure how you both ended up on your bed, but it’s comfortable.

“You sure you don’t wanna come out with me? You’d be good bait.” You snort, and roll your eyes.

“Clubs aren’t really my scene.” You move on to the interlocking rings on their pointer finger. You twist them off and watch the thin bands fall apart. It’s easier to talk when you don’t have to look at people, when you can keep your hands busy. “Besides, I’m horrible bait. People don’t talk to me.”

“I talk to you,” You can hear the smile in their voice. You shrug, twisting one of the bands onto another and pinching it to keep it together as you work on the rest.

“You don’t count.” They hum.

“Yeah, suppose I don’t really.” They take the ring from you as you struggle fitting the pieces together, their long fingers elegantly turning each piece with practiced motions. It’s strange watching them do it one handed, each finger working nimbly in a way you’re not used to, before the ring slides back onto their finger. “Person is a loose word. We’re not looking for people, we’re looking for meat.” They settle their hand back in yours and you tip your head to look at them. They raise their brows.

“Would love it if you could say dick like a normal person,” You tell them. They laugh and tug their hand from your grip to flick your forehead. Something warm pools in you, and you smile. “I really like having you around.”

“I like being around,” Their voice is a little softer, fingers brushing stray hairs from your face. “I should’ve gotten a roommate ages ago,” You sigh looking back at the ceiling. Their fingers stall, just a fraction of a second before they continue their sweep. “I’ve never been good with empty houses. Makes me a little-” You grimace, trying to think of a word other than paranoid, spooked, or crazy. Your crash-roommate pats your cheek and pushes themselves to sit up.

“Well, you got me around now. I’m way worse than any ghost could be.” You grin at your empty ceiling and sit up to watch them shrug their jacket on.

“Because you’re so scary,” You laugh at them.

“You know me,” They flash you a smile with all their teeth, “I always have to be the biggest threat in a room.” It’s a trick of the light that they look sharp for the briefest moment. Your fingers shake, your smile falling a little. They’re gone by the time you can get your nerves under control.

You carefully pen your letter, a short single sentence. You only do this when your sort-of-not-really-roommate is gone. They’d make fun of you, they already notice when your statues are missing. You fold the tea dyed paper carefully. The sides in, the bottom two thirds folded up, top folded down to slide the bottom in and close it. You run your fingers over your army of wax and pluck one of the fairies from the middle.

One for the window, and the rest to cast.

You tug the window open in your craft room and tug your crucible free from its fire safe home.

You scrub at your arm with your hand, it feels like you just walked through a spiderweb. You hope not. You always worry that means the spider is on you now, a rather unpleasant thought. The flat is dark, well, dim. There’s a blue glow from the living room, a gentle static of televised voices, as you make your way from your room to the bathroom. You think it’s maybe three in the morning? You didn’t check.

The TV is still talking when you finish your business, your couch surfer must be home. You’ll get a glass of water from the kitchen and make sure they’re not sleeping with the TV on. You’re less jumpy with someone else living in the house. The shadows don’t scare you the same way, still, there’s a growing sense of unease as you make your way down the dark hall to your living room. You don’t like being awake at this time. Three am is when horror movie bullshit happens.

You squeeze your hands into fists, feel your nails dig into your palms. It grounds you enough to keep you walking as you actually get into the open living room. It’s empty. On the television an infomercial is walking through all the great deals you could be getting on a 15 piece cookware set. You power through the living room to the kitchen.

Light from the streetlamps slants across your floor from your street facing window. The scattered letters and your half closed laptop on the kitchen table under it, just barely illuminated. It’s enough to keep you from bumping into the chairs. You know your kitchen well enough to navigate it in the dark. You repeat your “I’m not scared, definitely not scared, monsters aren’t real and the dark is safe” mantra as you fish a glass out of the cupboard next to the sink.

The tap squeaks as you twist the cold water on and hold the glass under it. This is totally fine. You’ll turn off the TV after you get your water, and go right back to bed. You’re so proud of yourself for braving the safety of your empty flat. Real powerful stuff.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a full body shiver goes through you. You turn from watching your glass fill up to look towards the living room. Your guest, or something with a similar shape, stands in the shifting technicolor light of your old television. The long night shadows of the room and the moving light make them hard to discern, make you think you can see long jointed limbs protruding from their back. Their hands hang by their sides, fingers long and sharp, dripping with a viscous fluid you think shines red as it falls on your floor. They stand unnaturally still, waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to blink.

You can’t even breathe.

One of the long limbs behind them moves, directs itself towards the ceiling, the rest of them following. Your guest pulls themselves like a spider back towards the shadows as your breath starts again just in time for you to start hyperventilating. You can hear the rapid insectoid clicking over the rush of water from the sink.

Water pours over your hand and your attention is sucked back to your overflowing glass. You swear and turn the tap off quickly, setting your glass in the sink to grab a towel for your hand. The front door of your flat rattles, the lock turning. You can hear your guest humming as they open the door to come in. You turn to look at them quickly. They look the same as always, a little more disheveled than when they left you suppose, but otherwise perfectly normal. You try to calm down your heartbeat as they toe their shoes off. It was just your imagination, your paranoia working overtime at this late hour.

“Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Your guest whispers. You shake your head, swallow and go back to your cup. You pour some of the water off and decide you should start keeping a water bottle in your room.

“No, uh, just- just had a bad dream, I guess,” You tell them, sticking close to the wall as you make your way out of the kitchen towards your room. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious you’re avoiding something. “Did you turn on the TV before you left?”

“I thought you’d appreciate the noise,” They half follow you, going over to the couch and grabbing the remote, “It didn’t freak you out, did it?”

“Nope,” You lie.

“Good,” They smile, “Wouldn’t wanna scare ya’.”

You chalk up your late night scare to being half asleep and an overactive imagination. Nothing to be worried about. You scroll through your local paranormal site and update them on your recently disappearing statues. You chew your nails as you watch the comments pop up on your post, the message board discussing whether it's human or monstrous intervention. You sigh and close your phone. Maybe your therapist was right and you are giving in to your delusions to an unhealthy degree. It seems crazy to think that some unseen monster is following you just because you're an artist, more so that the little statues you've been leaving out on your windowsill aren't just being taken by some random human.

You haven't been looking over your shoulder as often since they started disappearing but that could very well be a placebo effect. None of the folks in your class have been missing either, a few have even come back. There’s nothing to be worried about. Nothing waiting to eat you alive for… what? The sin of being creative?

You stare at your bedroom ceiling. You should get some work done today, finish casting some statues. You push yourself up and out of bed, grabbing a sweater and your slippers to get some coffee before you shower. Maybe you should leave the house, it’s been a while since you went anywhere that wasn’t your workshop or class.

The lump on your couch hardly stirs when you wander past, their shoulders rising and falling with their breaths. You try not to stare, try not to slot your guest into last night’s nightmare. You do a pretty good job. You make yourself busy in the kitchen getting grounds in the coffee maker and rummaging through your pantry for something to eat.

You can feel dread creeping just at the edges of your mind, stiffening your spine, eating at the end of your sanity. You thought when you finally lost your mind it would be a sudden thing, not this slow descent. You itch at your arm, at the invisible spider thread feeling, and grab a granola bar.

“You’re so cute in the morning,” Your not-roommate says behind you. You just about jump out of your skin, turning to face them with your heart hammering in your chest. “So jumpy,” They smile over their coffee cup, bounce their shoulders to mimic your fright.

“You’re up,” Look at you pointing out the obvious, they raise their brows, duh. You don’t know how to explain your unease around them this morning. You can’t reasonably tell them you had a weird semi-lucid nightmare hallucination and now their smile makes you think of their head spinning like the exorcist.

“Call the media,” They joke, grabbing your mug and holding it out to you. You force yourself forward through the anxiety to take your coffee. It’s easy. Their hands are both occupied, and there’s no reason to think they’d hurt you. Still, you approach the gesture with the tremor of a bomb defusal technician rapidly running out of fingers.

They transfer the mug to your hands without a second thought, dropping their hand to their side as soon as it’s done supporting the coffee’s weight. You feel the tightness in your chest unspool, your shoulders drop, the tension leaves you like it was never there in the first place. “Seriously what’s with you this morning, look like you saw a ghost.” Their voice is almost concerned. Not quite, it’s a play at concern, a child acting out what they think it should sound like. It twists your stomach into knots.

“Guess I’m still thinking about that dream,” You breathe.

“Nightmares are a bitch, huh.” Their concern drips with amusement. You knew it would be silly to bring up. They’re never concerned by the things that scare you. You don’t think your guest is scared of anything, least of all bad dreams. You brush past them to go sit on the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest as you click the TV on.

“-recent string of deaths has been linked to a potential black market organ ring-” the television buzzes in the background, your guest falls hard on the couch next to you.

“You wanna do slut talk, or…?” You shake your head, they shrug. “Whatever, mind if we watch something else?” You offer them the remote silently, you don’t like watching the news anyway. Too much bad is happening in the world, you don’t need the added anxiety.

“-say citizens should be on the lookout for-” Your guest punches in a new channel number and the anchors are replaced by a pair of far too large men discussing statistics of some sort. The camera cuts to a caged octagon. Oh, fighting. You tune it out and try to start hyping yourself up to leave the house.

“Have you been taking your medication?” Your therapist asks. You pick at her couch, fingernails scratching at the felt balls that pop up on well worn knits. You don’t like that way she says it, like you’re crazy for bringing up an issue she asked about. Then again anyone would think you were crazy talking about the- the thing you saw in your house. Or didn’t see. Thought you saw.

“Every day,” You assure her, “it doesn’t feel like they’re helping anymore.”

Your therapist thinks for a minute. You like her, she’s kind, and most days helpful. She lets you talk without making you feel like you’re losing your mind, at least.

“Your sculptures, are they still disappearing?” She starts, and you desperately want to know where she’s going with it. You nod, and she nods as well. “How’s the ventilation in your craft room?”

You wince. “Not great, but I open the windows when I’m die casting.” She nods again, slower, heavier.

“Do you think you might be exposed to any toxic fumes that could be interfering with your meds? Hallucinations, memory gaps, lost items, it could be caused by that.” You hate to think she’s right, but the alternative is you being right. You suppose a carbon monoxide or noxious fume issue is more plausible than monsters being real(and out to get you). Your therapist takes your silence as agreement and pushes on. “Maybe you should try a less… fume-y hobby for a while, see if that clears up any of the symptoms.”

“And if it doesn’t?” You ask.

She sighs, leans back in her chair, “Then we might need to start entertaining the possibility that this isn’t just anxiety.”

“I’ll figure something out.” Whatever tests she’s thinking of, you’d like to avoid for the moment. It’s probably the fumes. It has to be the fumes.

“Find a stopping point for your sculptures, and let me know next week what you want to try.” Your therapist scribbles something on their notepad. You suppose it’s good they know you well enough to know you won’t quit your art just for your health.

You’ll use up the rest of your supplies and find something easy to do.

You’re almost completely over the nightmare incident by the end of the week. Your guest is as friendly as ever, unbothered by any of the anxieties that plague you. You leave your offering for whatever is taking your sculptures, ask it to stay out of your house while it’s kept away. You figure that must be what it was. If it was anything at all.

You shove laundry into your washer, dropping in clothes from your hamper as you scroll on your phone. You should grab some of your guest’s washing too, that’s the nice thing to do, and they’ve been staying with you long enough. You grab your empty hamper to go snag their pile from the living room.

Come to think of it, how long have they been staying with you? You feel like it’s been a while now. You can’t really put your finger on when you offered them your couch. You think a month? Maybe? But, that doesn’t feel right. The thought rubs against your brain the wrong way. You shove their spare shirts into your basket. You’re not great with dates but you know you’re better than this. Forgetful but not enough to forget when you opened your home to a stranger. Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary? Why does it feel like they’ve moved in?

You wince, feeling the sharp stab of a stress headache forming. You try to keep your focus on the clothes you feed to the washer, stopping to check the tag on one of their flannels. You check the little symbols against your cheat sheet on the wall and stop.

You rub your finger over the hard crust on the collar of their shirt. It makes your lip curl in disgust, it doesn’t feel like dirt. You glance down to see if you need to pre-treat the stain, scratch at one of the brown droplets. It looks like a nasty stain, already soaked into the fibers of the shirt. You frown, it looks like blood. But on their collar like this you would’ve seen a cut on their face by now. Besides this was at the bottom of their pile, and you haven’t seen them wear it in a few days. Plenty of time to notice a new bandage or scar. Which makes you think it isn’t their blood.

You dig your nail into the stain, feel it crush under your finger. There isn’t any reason to think it’s blood. No reason to think it isn’t your friend’s blood. Really this whole blood stain business is a bad faith line of thinking. Except you know blood when you see it.

With shaking hands you set the flannel on the table and go to grab the lemon juice. At least you can clean it up. You can get the blood out of your house and then it won’t be blood anymore. No more blood in your house. You swallow your fear, set the lemon juice next to the shirt. You think of the red that had dripped off your nightmare’s hands as they stood in your living room.

You leave the laundry and go to the living room. You’re going to convince yourself that this is silly. You’re being ridiculous. You settle on your knees in front of the TV, and inspect the floor. Your flat isn’t exactly the most up to date, your wood floors have seen better days. If there was blood -there wasn’t- then there should still be some between the floorboards. You run your fingers over the dips between the wood, looking for any disturbance in the lacquer.

There’s nothing, not even a speck of dirt.

You exhale, shaky, and stand again. Good. Good, you knew there wouldn’t be anything. You clean up well.

You go back to the kitchen to finish getting your friend’s mystery stain out of their shirt.

You drum your fingers against your work table, staring down your army of silver statues. Their delicately sculpted features don’t help you make up your mind. In fact they almost coax you away from your prescribed course of action. You’re good at this. You don’t want to be bad at something new.

Either way you need supplies.

You grab your usual bag and grip the canvas tight. It’ll be fine. You can be bad at something. You just can’t keep living like this. You lock your front door tightly behind you and start down the street towards your favorite craft store.

The streets are cold. The wind at your back makes you shiver, and the watched feeling... Fumes, you tell yourself. You’d rushed to get everything cast and now you’re paying the price. You hook a right towards the tube station and make your way down the steps. People walk past you on the other side, swipe their card after you, wait around you for the train. It’s normal. It’s suffocating. You squeeze your hands around the straps of your bag, nails digging into your palms. It’s only one stop, but you rush to get off the train and back up into fresh air. You bump into someone and give a hasty “excuse me.”

Halfway down the street someone grabs your arm. You tense and they drop their grip immediately.

“Yer bag’s leakin’.” A low voice informs you. You tug your bag to check it and groan. There’s a tear on the corner that a pound is nearly tumbling out of. You feel your shoulders drop, that’s just fabulous. You suppose the canvas has taken a beating over the years, it must have caught on something when you were leaving the house. “Aw, dinnae cry bonnie, s’alrigh’.” You glance up at the man, he holds up a handful of pencils and coins, “I caught yer trail.”

You find yourself sitting on a bench sniffling while a stranger sews the hole in your bag closed. His stitches are neat, clinically precise. He doesn’t take long, just like he promised, and knots the dark thread with careful fingers when he’s finished. You wipe your eyes, cursing your bad luck and anything else you can think of. Your life feels like it’s been falling apart recently. First you lose your mind, now you’re losing your favorite tote.

“Good as new,” the man gives the mended corner a tug and starts grabbing your supplies to drop back into it. He hums, the tune is familiar but you can’t put your finger on it. “Ya done with yer tears yet, bon?” He settles your tote between the two of you, an illusion of space. You nod, even though he reaches to scrub a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You give a half annoyed hum, and feel the rays of his smile. You glance at him, and realize you hadn’t actually looked at him until now. It feels rude to not even have spared him a glance. Except that he feels completely overwhelming as soon as you look at him. His eyes are so blue they burn, every piece of him slotting uncomfortably close to human. You flinch as pain strikes through your head.

His brows draw together, and he tips his head forward, leaning closer to get a better look at you. He mumbles something and reaches to press his fingers against your forehead. His skin is so warm it’s almost alien. His nails scratch bluntly at your skin before catching on something.

It’s like he’s pulling a nail from your skull, the pressure gone as soon as he rolls his fingers together to dust off the hair. You blink, your head feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Better?” He asks. You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, thanks, um-”

“Soap,” He supplies, pushing off the bench to stand.

“Soap,” You smile, it’s silly but you suppose you’ve heard worse. He offers you a hand to pull you to your feet. His fingers wrap around yours, warm, calloused, big. You try not to focus on them too much as they tug you up. He leans around you to grab your bag and hold it out to you.

“Where’re ya off ta?” Soap asks.

“Craft store, I’m-” You sigh, you shouldn’t tell a stranger your therapist is mandating a hobby change, “I’m looking for a new hobby.”

Soap tips his head to the side, thinking --you think. He rattles off a few potential options, paper crafts, fiber arts, clay sculpting, good old fashioned pencils on paper. You hardly hear a word he says, too busy feeling your heart jump into your throat. From this angle you’d almost swear he had a second set of teeth.

You press against your front door when you get home, fingers shaky as you click the deadbolt into place. Soap had been perfectly polite and cordial to you, and yet you felt unnerved. You were seeing things you couldn’t get out of your brain and it was making it hard to focus on pretending you’re normal. He’d even walked you home, his eyes lingering on your window. You have unfounded suspicions.

“Wow you’re home late,” Your guest calls from the kitchen. They wander into the living room and stop dead when they spot you. Their nose wrinkles when they frown.

You run a hand over your hair, close your eyes and try to focus on the time. Your stomach rumbles. You hadn’t grabbed dinner, despite Soap’s offer. You’ll eat leftovers, or throw something together. It's no problem.

“You ok?” You jerk back against the door. Your friend hovers too close. Their eyes are wide and searching, darting over you with a strange intensity you’ve never seen before.

“Fine, I just had a long day.” You tell them, brushing past to head for the fridge. They follow close behind, almost clingy.

“You sure? Maybe I should stay home tonight, take care of you.” They offer. You sigh and tug the fridge door open, leaning to check what you have. Your not-roommate’s hands pluck at your sweater, reach around you to grab food when your eyes settle on it too long.

“Don’t let me ruin your fun,” You let them tug you away from the fridge, and you hop up to sit on the counter. Pasta is dumped into a bowl and shoved in the microwave.

“I can skip going out,” They stare down the microwave timer, fingers tapping the counter.

“I’m really-”

“Did you meet anyone interesting while you were out?” They cut you off. You blink. That’s a weird question. You don’t know how to respond. Their gaze is so sharp you almost don’t want to tell them the truth. You swallow.

“What?”

“Do you think you’re getting sick?” They repeat, “It’s getting colder out, you might’ve caught something you shouldn’t have.” There’s a ringing in your ears, you shake your head to dislodge it. Maybe you are coming down with something.

“Just more reasons for you to go out, I don’t wanna get you sick.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead, you should find your thermometer. Your guest hums in annoyance.

“Alright, but think about staying home this week.” You nod, you weren’t planning on heading out again except for groceries, but you can always order in. “Don’t wait up,” They tell you, reaching to flick your forehead as soon as you drop your hand.

“I thought you were going out tonight?” You freeze in the hallway, staring at your still home roommate. They look up from the couch, a beer dangling from their fingers.

“Decided to stay in,” They tip their head back to finish the can. You don’t watch the bob of their throat as they swallow. You do rub your eyes in the glare of the television. “Hey, you mind if I sneak in with you tonight?” They ask. The question slides over you like water.

You hum, and nod before you can actually think about what they asked. You turn back down the hall and pad to the bathroom. You hear the TV click off and figure they’re heading to your room. Which is weird.

When you head back to bed your roommate has already made themselves comfortable. They have one of your stuffed animals on their chest, their hands flopping the bunny ears back and forth while they wait for you. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Having them in here makes you- but you can’t-

You climb into bed on the other side of them and click the light off.

You jerk awake. Something physically pulls you awake.

You stare, frozen, into the darkness. The darkness is otherwise occupied, it’s spindling limbs cracking and clicking as they reach with odd angles for your ceiling. They lodge themselves in the corners of your room, eating the shadows cast by the streetlights outside your window. You’re powerless to stop it as it drags threads from your cracked chest. The strings throb, glowing an angry red as the dark monstrous mass that’s haunted your shadow for weeks drags clawed fingers over them. The light catches on the silver of spiderwebs. Lace draped all over your room like a nest. You wish you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the air of the room on your lungs. You wish it felt wetter, not this horrible wash of dryness.

Long delicate claws piece out your threads, nudge your lungs to the side and you feel your muscles tense. Your fingers retract, clawing at the sheets, gouging into the soft cotton. Fingers slip against your heart, drawing it from your chest in a mess of veins and tethers. Your stomach rolls, watching the shadows inspect the organ. You’ve never felt your pulse in such a sick way, never been so conscious of your blood or the ways it’s distributed through your body. The wetness of your heart drips onto your lungs.

It’s a short nightmare that seems to last forever before your heart is settled neatly back into place. Your ribs are pressed back into place, skin knit together like it never was moved to begin with. Then the claws reach for your face, palm pressing tight over your eyes and pushing you down deep into sleep.

It’s strange how well you sleep with your guest sharing your bed. You always wake up cuddled close, their arms around you as they snore softly. You’re used to being the first one awake. Even without them going out, you find they’re slow to wake up. It’s sort of cute. People seem much less cool and untouchable when their face is smushed in a pillow and their hair is all over the place.

You brush your teeth and wince. You must’ve slept wrong. Your neck is killing you.

Your eyes slide off the mirror, unable or unwilling to hold onto your reflection. You grab some painkillers and make your way to the kitchen to start on coffee.

You gasp, coming to on your couch like you’ve pulled yourself out of the sea.

The news drones on about a festival happening this weekend. Weekend? What day is it? You can’t remember. You frown, check your phone. It’s dead, despite being plugged into its charger. You tug at the cord and it pulls up into your hand without resistance, unplugged from its little cube. Ok, so no sense checking that. You plug the cord back in and watch the little light turn on before getting up.

You can check your craft room. You have a general idea of timing on your projects, you just need to check how far you’ve gotten on- on-

What are you working on right now?

You stop in the doorway, staring down your neat work desk. Someone cleaned up in here(was it you?) and you haven’t had time to dirty it up yet. There are no scraps of fabric, no balls of yarn, no picked apart pine cones or snapped twigs. You move towards a pile of freshly folded fleece, picking at the soft fabric. You almost remember buying this, that must’ve been at least a week ago. Last weekend, maybe.

You pick it up to check you didn’t set it on top of any ongoing projects and spot the orange flipper of your duck buried deep in the basket. With a frown you tug it free, the cool fabric making your frown deepen.

When’s the last time you left an offering on your windowsill?

You glance out the window, it looks just past sunset. The house is quiet. Your roommate must have gone out already. You take the duck with you back to the couch and grab the remote. You’ll find something interesting to watch while you wait for your phone to charge.

“-of local nightclubs,” The newscaster drones, their even tone hardly relaying the gravity of their report, “you may be in danger. New police reports indicate that these bars may be the hunting grounds for the trafficking ring that police now believe may be a single disturbed individual-”

You lower the remote, sitting forward to listen with growing unease as the newscaster describes murders you should have heard about by now. Murders that have been going on for weeks. Missing organs. They recount the investigation’s process. The first instinct towards organ trafficking, and the growing evidence towards one organized individual and not an organization. Eye witnesses that can’t remember who the victims left with. Precise injuries and surgical precision, their throats torn out like an animal had attacked them.

There’s something itching at your brain, something familiar. Something you can’t touch. You’re not supposed to touch. You stroke your fingers over the handmade plush in your arms, something warm and stick clinging to them as you self soothe. It dislodges your nerves, shakes them free, snakes through the fog over your brain.

You tug the blanket off the back of the couch and drag it over your lap. You press yourself back into the corner of the couch, small and safe. It’s your paranoia.

Have you been taking your medicine?

You wake up to the front door closing. You must have turned the TV off at some point. You rub your eyes and go to check on your guest.

You flick on the kitchen light and see your roommate roll their shoulders back with a click. They tip their head one way then the other, stretching with an unnatural length to their movements. The shadow they cast skewers the corners of the room. When they turn to look over their shoulder at you, their eyes are almost black, all four of them blink. You press yourself back against the wall. When you blink they’ve turned towards you.

Blood drips down their chest, stains their lips and traces down their throat. Their hands hang by their sides, nails stained with grit. Their tongue darts out and along their lips, cleaning some of the red off.

“You’re-’ You don’t know what to say, feel frozen by your own fear.

“I thought we’d settled this,” They sigh, wipe their throat with their hand and inspect the blood. The level of casualty they display strikes you more than words ever could.

“Blood, that’s blood,” You stammer out. They shrug sucking on their fingers.

“O negative if you wanna be specific,” Their voice is thick as they swallow, “Organ donor too, since you were so picky about that last time.”

Last time? What are they talking about?

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart pounding so loud you can hardly hear them over the noise. Your hands shake, tug at your shirt. Suddenly you can feel the cloth against your skin, can feel your muscles sliding against your bones, a nauseating sensation you can’t seem to get rid of. The way they talk about this, like it’s something you’ve discussed, something you could be OK with if you just had guidelines set up. You can’t imagine ever being alright with whatever is happening.

Something clicks into place in your mind. The string of murders on the news, missing organs, strange lacerations, drained of blood. Was it them? Your guest holds their chin, cracking their neck as you try not to hyperventilate.

“You’re the one from the news,” You whisper. They hum, and smile at you.

“Fun right? I’ve never been famous before,” They laugh like this is some sort of game. You feel your stomach roll.

“You’re killing people.”

You watch as their usual gentle smile falls, as their entire face seems to fall away into a blank unfeeling parody of the person who's been crashing on your couch.

"So we’re doing this again." The start, picking one of your kitchen knives out of the block on your counter, "What’s the line? I'm not killing people, I'm killing men? Although," They laugh, it’s a hollow cold thing, “I’m really not that picky with my prey.”

Your eyes dart towards the door, you take a half step back. "Don't run," they warn you, condescending as you've never heard them before, "I won't be able to help myself if you run." You don't know what else you could possibly do in this situation. You can't stay, there's no way they let you live now that you know they're a murderer. You have to run.

With a burst of energy you bolt from the kitchen for your front door. You hear a snarl behind you, a “you always do this,” as you flip the deadbolt and rip the door open. You nearly tumble down your front step, but it hardly slows you down. You know better than to look back when you can hear the crashing, feel the strike of claws through the air behind you. How do you combat a murderer? You can feel tears starting to blur your vision, and for once in your life you hope they fall just to clear your eyes.

How many times have you run to the local police station? The monster behind you had said you’d done this before? Would they think you were crying wolf? Would they put you back in the house with this person? Would you forget again?

You’re caught around the middle and lifted. You scream and kick, push at your captor’s face and claw at their arms. You hardly seem to make a dent in them, all hard muscle and low grunts of pain.

“Calm down lass,” Soap orders, voice dropping with your panic. You dig your nails into his arms, sob and scream for him to help you. He grabs your chin and tips your head to the side. “Christ, bonnie, what happened to ya?” He grits, his fingers skating over your neck. You jerk away from the pain that his touch rolls through you.

You freeze, your breath heaving as you stare down your unwanted guest. They haunt the end of the street like a nightmare, their sticky shadows dripping in the midnight moonlight, streaking to cling to the walls and fall to the cobblestone street. Soap hums behind you. No. Humming is too human a description. He growls. The sound low and vibrating, like a dog warning of its impending bite.

You’re struck by another bout of blind panic. For whatever reason your guest has kept you alive, but Soap is a different story. You can’t be a party to this man’s murder. You renew your desperation as you push at his hold.

“We have to go,” You tell him desperately, watching your guest stalk closer, “they’ll kill us, we have to go.”

“That’s mine,” Your guest growls, the sound whispering through the shadows and making your head pound. You squeeze your eyes shut, press back into Soap’s relative safety.

“That’s too bad,” Soap growls, amusement clear where you’d expect fear, “been feeding me for weeks.”

Your eyes snap open, glancing up at your newest monster. He smiles down at you with too many teeth.

“What-”

“Somethin’ much worse than your little spider,” He tells you, holding up a finger, “boop.” He taps your forehead and everything goes black.

#x reader #x oc #oc x oc #oc: threat #oc: crybaby #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x oc #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #1fae1 #tw gore #tw blood #tw gaslighting #tw body horror #tw manipulation #tw psychological horror #threat doing fucked up shit to keep their girlfriend from leaving #dead dove do not eat

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angstywaifu · 4 months

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The Lost Sister - Part 4

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time. Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: We all know I couldn't not throw some Imogen tension in there. I do apologise if the fighting stuff isn’t good, I found it hard to convey what I wanted but I think I got there in the end. I also went on a binge write yesterday and have a few parts written up. Let me know if you want to be on the tag list at all. The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

I squint into the early morning sun with the rest of the quadrant, listening to the names of the seventy one people who did not make it across the parapet yesterday. Violet and Rhiannon who are next to me as they read out the name ‘Dylan’. He must have been someone they had met before crossing the parapet.

Today we are all dressed in riders black, with a single silver star and fourth wing patch signalling my year and wing. As I look around, us first years did not waste any time in altering our uniforms to suit us. I don’t think I see a single stock uniform in the crowd.

As the sun shifts in the sky I am able to see properly. I feel a familiar feeling and look up to see Garrick staring at me from his place atop the stairs of the rotunda next to Xaden. Despite what they said last night, I had not seen either of them again that night. Clearly whatever they spoke about took longer than they thought. When our eyes meet he smiles at me but it quickly disappears as I feel a different feeling wash over me. I turn my head to see Imogen glaring at me. A second year in my squad. I had met her a few times during the rebellion, but I never knew her well.

“Why does it look like she wants to kill you already?” Violet whispers to me as she looks between Imogen and I.

Imgoen glances over at Violet before turning her head back to the front of the Rotunda as they finish reading out the death roll for the day.

”I wish I knew.” I whisper back as Dain starts telling us to head to our class and something about remembering our schedule.

She nods her head before leading the way to our first class of the day which is somewhere on the fourth floor of the academic wing. I really should have taken better note of my schedule.

By the time we get to the gym after lunch, I feel like my brain is about to explode with the amount of information I’ve taken in today. But I am thankful for the training Melgren had given me over the years. Most of it was in the books I had already read. I just had to apply it in a different scenario. His training really had prepared me for the riders quadrant. Almost as if he was setting me up for success. As we walk into the gym, most of the second and third years are already here and waiting for us. I immediately meet Garrick and Xadens eyes across the room, as if they were waiting for me to walk in. I follow my squad and stand around one of the mats as Professor Emetterio walks onto the mat. As he turns to face the crowd his eyes meet me and widen, almost as if he was shocked to see me here despite having been a part of some of my training with Melgren. Obviously Melgren had not mentioned his intentions with my training or who I really was. His eyes wander to the mark on my neck and now exposed arm with a questioning look. This doesnt go unnoticed by Garrick or Xaden either who look concerned at the brief interaction between us.

As each match ends, Emetterio calls up the next pair. Randomly selecting people from different years and wings. The only ones we are truly safe from are our own squad mates. Squad mates are not allowed to kill each other. A sickening crack rings around the room as Jack Barlowe snaps the next of a first year whose name I have not yet learnt. The only reason I know Jack’s is due to Violet and Battle Brief earlier today. A class where I had felt Garrick’s eyes constantly on me, but had refused to meet. Emetterio points a finger at Imogen, and my heart drops thinking I will be picked next. Her eyes had also been on me all day, and not in a good way. This girl had it out for me. Lucky for me but unlucky for Violet, I am not picked. But Violet is no match for her. Not even a minute later Imogen has broken her arm. Dain is at her side and taking her to the Healers Quadrant before I can even move.

I look up to see Emetterio pointing to me and his other finger at Xaden. “Lets see what you Riorson siblings can do.”

The gym goes quiet at his words. For the second time since I’ve arrived here Garrick goes to start forward and is stopped by Xaden’s arm. He immediately whips his head towards Xaden with a glare. A glare Xaden returns without skipping a beat. I can tell the words he gives to Garrick are stern. Garrick just nods his head and steps back. Xaden and I take our spots on opposite sides of the mat, the whole gym going quiet in anticipation.

I don’t need to look around to know all eyes are on us. The Riorson siblings. The commanding wing leader, and the one thought to be dead. Behind Xaden, Garrick’s eyes are on me but I don’t raise my gaze from Xaden’s. I do notice Imogen make her way around the edge to stand next to him.

Xaden and I start to circle each other. I know Xaden’s fighting style. I watched him train with our father, as well as Garrick and Bodhi. But he has no idea how I fight. To his knowledge I had no combat training other than run and hide. All he knows is I’m quick with some daggers after last night. Xaden makes the first move, rushing forward to make a grab for me, but I duck and roll to side while landing a kick to the back of his knee causing him to stumble before he turns back to me. This time I’m the first to move. He goes to block my attack but I duck to side again and land a punch to his ribs. I use the small window I have to place another stronger kick to his knee knocking him to the ground in a kneeling stance. As he goes to the ground I bring up my other foot and place a kick to the side of his head. I should probably go easier on my brother, but he’s underestimated me and I want, no need to prove what I have learnt. I can’t let him, Bodhi and Garrick treat me like the little girl they once knew.

Xaden is now kneeling with his hands on the mat trying to right himself. I raise my leg again to push him down by his back but he swings an arm out knocking my legs out from me. Sending me down down to the mat, my back hitting it with a loud smack. He goes to make a move I’ve seen him do many times in the past. As he leans down to put me into a hold I hook my legs around his neck and flip him so he’s face down on the mat. I twist and put pressure on his neck. He might be stronger than me, but the way I have twisted makes it hard for him to breathe if he moves too much. But he still his best to get out of the hold. I shift my stance as best I can to make an arch in his back, making him look towards to roof. 30 seconds later he taps the mat. He yields.

As soon as I release him from the hold the gym comes back to life with chatter and fights starting up. It appears the whole gym stopped to watch our match. As Xaden stands he holds his hand out to help me up which I happily take.

”You’re definitely not the little sister I use to know.” He says with a smile as he looks down at me. “I might even need to thank Melgren for the training he gave you.”

”That guy does not need his ego inflated more than it is. Please don’t.” Causing Xaden to laugh.

Foot steps to my left pull me from the moment with Xaden and we both look to see Emetterio looking at us.

”Definitely not how I expected that to go. I expect good things out of you Ophelia.” He says before walking off to observe the other matches.

As the next pairing for our mat makes their way over Xaden and I make our way off the mat towards Garrick and Imogen, and Bodhi who must have made his way over during our match. Bodhi and Garrick are beaming at me. Obviously happy I had just kicked Xaden’s butt on the mat. Imgoen on the other hand looks even more pissed than she has all day at me. As we get to them she huffs and storms off back to our squad.

”What’s her problem?” I ask the boys as I watch her pink hair disappear into the crowd.

The boys all share a knowing look which has me raising an eyebrow at them. Clearly all in on something I’m not.

”Probably just feels threatened by you. You’ve clearly shown you’re a fighter to contend with. She’s always boasted about being one of the better female fighters here.” Bodhi states.

”Right.” I am not even remotely convinced by his words. The glares she’s been sending me all day suggest other wise.

I turn to face the mats and watch the other matches, Garrick moving to stand next to me. Almost as if pulled to my by gravity. He’s presence is comforting and I look up and see him smiling down at me.

”Not gonna lie, was kinda hot watching you take you’re brother down like that.” He says to me as he winks at me making my heart skip a beat as he stares intently into my eyes.

”You did not just call my sister hot!” Xaden nearly shouts from the other side of me at Garrick, causing Garrick and Bodhi to burst into fits of laughter as I turn bright red.

I feel the all too familiar set of eyes on me and look over to see Imogen glaring at me. As Garrick places his hand on my shoulder as he responds to Xaden, it almost looks as if she starts shaking with anger. Something tells me in the next few weeks her and I are going to end up on that mat together. And it won’t be pretty.

Part 5 @riorgail @going-through-shit

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis #the fourth wing #the empyrean

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 11 months

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Racing Hearts - Part 2 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Sofia, dragged you to this fancy club, and you reluctantly agreed to accompany her, not expecting much from the night. As you entered the club, you couldn't believe your eyes when you bumped into Charles once again. It seemed that fate, or perhaps Sofia, had led you right back to him.

Masterlist Part 1

Warnings: Fluff, Jealousy, Alcohol

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for your nice feedback! Made my day!

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe, @faithm120601, @needtokeepfeelingsincheck, @bbygrllllllll (hope that worked ;))

The night at Jimmy'z pulsated with vibrant lights and infectious music as you and Sofia stepped into the club, your excitement palpable. You remained oblivious to the surprise awaiting, while Sofia couldn't contain her giggles of anticipation.

"What's gotten into you?" you asked, chuckling at Sofia's excitement.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just... really happy to be here," Sofia replied, though you couldn't help but sense there was something more.

Sofia guided you to the VIP area, and a bouncer escorted you to your private lounge. You looked around, feeling slightly out of place in this world of decadence. In Spain, you had danced barefoot in a small tavern by the beach, whereas here, the girls wore high heels and were styled to perfection. It wasn't just a difference in lifestyle; it was an entirely new experience for you.

"A private lounge? Sof, this isn't necessary," you insisted as the bartender presented you with an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne.

"Yes, it is," Sofia persisted, her eyes darting across the crowd. She waved at someone, and you followed her gaze.

When you saw who was approaching you, your heart skipped a beat, and you turned to Sofia in disbelief.

"What on earth is he doing here?" you whispered, your eyes wide with astonishment. Sofia giggled mischievously.

"Told you he would look for you," Sofia said, her grin widening. "He stopped by the store this afternoon, and I told him to meet us here."

Charles approached you, accompanied by his brother Lorenzo. He looked really handsome with his blue jeans and white bottom up shirt.

As his eyes met yours, his heart skipped a beat. You looked breathtaking in your short black dress adorned with golden sequins.

"Charles! You made it," Sofia beamed while you shook your head in amusement. This was typical Sofia.

"Hi, Sofia," Charles greeted her before his attention shifted to you. He smiled softly, causing your nerves to jangle. "Hi, Y/N. It's really nice to see you again."

Returning his smile, you blushed slightly and brushed a strand of your Y/H/C hair behind your ear. "It's nice to see you again too."

Charles sat beside you while his brother settled next to Sofia. "This is my brother Lorenzo. Lorenzo, meet Y/N," Charles introduced them, and you extended your hand to greet Lorenzo. He took it with a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you."

As the night unfolded, you found yourself engrossed in conversation with Charles and Lorenzo. Your words flowed effortlessly, and you felt the instant connection with Charles that you couldn't ignore.

With each passing minute, your walls began to crumble, replaced by a newfound curiosity and an overwhelming desire to explore this unexpected connection further. You couldn't deny the fluttering in your heart whenever Charles smiled or how his laughter resonated deep within your soul.

However, as the night wore on, the outside world's intrusion weighed heavily on Charles. Whispers and glances followed him wherever he went, and you could sense the burden of public scrutiny resting on his shoulders.

Just as your thoughts started to wander, a voice behind you spoke up in French, addressing Charles. He turned around, a grin lighting up his face. "Pierre, mon pote. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Content de te voir," Charles replied in French.

"Toi aussi, mon ami. Je ne pensais pas te voir ici," Pierre responded, and you glanced at Sofia, who understood everything. However, she realized that you didn't speak French.

"Hi, I'm Sofia. Nice to meet you," Sofia interjected, extending her hand to Pierre.

Pierre shook her hand and smiled, realizing that not everyone at the table was fluent in their language. Then his attention shifted to you, and Charles cleared his throat.

"Uh, Pierre, this is Y/N. Y/N, my best friend Pierre Gasly," Charles introduced you, and you greeted Pierre with a warm smile. Pierre, on the other hand, grinned knowingly, briefly glancing at Charles. The Monegasque had undoubtedly shared your encounter with his best friend.

"Really lovely to meet you, Y/N. Mind if I join you?" Pierre asked, gesturing towards the lounge.

You all agreed, and Pierre settled down beside you. As laughter filled the air and conversations delved into various topics, you quickly realized the many shared interests you had with Charles, such as your passion for music.

You couldn't believe how much you were enjoying yourself. You had initially been hesitant about coming to Jimmy'z, but now, you were grateful for Sofia's persuasiveness. Your group grew more relaxed, and you found yourself feeling more comfortable around Charles.

As the night progressed, the champagne flowed, and the music grew louder. You and Charles found yourselves lost in conversation. You talked about everything from your favorite bands to your dream travel destinations. You couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to him, and you found yourself opening up to him in ways you never thought possible.

Suddenly, the club's lights dimmed a little more, signaling the start of a new set. Charles stood up, extending his hand towards you. "Dance with me?"

You hesitated for a second, but your heart won out, and you placed your hand in his. Surrounded by the pulsating lights, the throbbing music, and the close proximity of Charles, you felt alive in a way you never had before.

As the music grew louder, Charles pulled you closer, and you felt your heartbeat accelerate. You could smell his cologne, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. The connection between you was palpable, and you got lost in the dance with Charles, not realizing the jealous and curious gazes that were thrown at you from all around.

A few songs later, you were sweaty and slightly exhausted, so you made your way back to the lounge. You sat back down and started talking again. Sofia, while encountered in a deep conversation with Lorenzo, glanced at her best friend now and then and couldn't help but smile. She hasn't seen you like that since you started dating Oliver back then.

You felt a deep sense of comfort in Charles's presence and genuinely enjoyed your time together. As the night progressed, another person joined your group. It was Marco Rossi, a close friend of Charles and, as it turned out, Sofia's friend and business partner. He settled in with you, and the night carried on.

Pierre seized the opportunity to inquire about your background. "So, Y/N, where are you from?" he asked.

You smiled warmly. "I'm actually from Y/hometown, born and raised."

"Y/country, how nice," Pierre remarked, stealing a glance at Charles. "And what brought you to Monaco?"

You let out a brief sigh. "Well, I've been traveling through Europe for the past six months, taking a break. Monaco wasn't originally part of my plan, but then I decided to visit Sofia," you said, pointing at your friend, who grinned in response.

"Yeah, and I would've been so pissed if you hadn't come to see me," Sofia chimed in playfully.

You laughed, and your infectious laughter brought a smile to Charles's face. He gazed at you lovingly and casually draped his arm over the backrest behind you. You returned his affectionate gaze with a warm smile.

Unbeknownst to you, someone approached your table and stood before you. It was a stunning woman, exuding a catwalk-worthy allure.

Marco, quickly recognizing her, rose from his seat and kissed her on the cheek. "Isabella, what are you doing here?" he asked, a slight hint of panic in his voice.

"I heard Charles was here, and I couldn't believe it, so I had to see it for myself," Isabella replied, sporting a seductive smile. Her long black hair and piercing light blue eyes commanded attention.

You and Charles looked up, breaking your eye contact, and turned your attention to Isabella. "Isabella," Charles said, his voice tinged with confusion and surprise.

Isabella maintained her seductive smile. "Charles, chéri, it's good to see you. And you too, Pierre," she said, not even looking at Pierre. Her demeanor was arrogant, and it seemed as if she wouldn't care about anyone than Charles.

Pierre rolled his eyes at Isabella but managed to force a smile. Sensing your confusion, Sofia discreetly signaled for you to check your phone. You complied and read Sofia's message: 'That's Isabella Rossi. Charles's ex.'

You looked up from your phone, exchanging a bewildered glance with Sofia. Charles had a girlfriend who was this stunning. Of course, he was a famous Formula 1 driver, so it made sense that he would have a model girlfriend. An uneasy feeling washed over you.

"And who might this be?" Isabella asked, her displeasure evident as she looked disdainfully at you while Charles's arm remained draped over your backrest.

You mustered a smile and extended your hand to Isabella. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." However, Isabella regarded your hand as if it were a bug and ignored the gesture.

"Uh-huh," Isabella responded dismissively, redirecting her attention back to Charles, her smile returning. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Charles glanced briefly at you, contemplating whether or not to comply, but eventually sighed. "Yeah, sure," he acquiesced. He was simply too kind to ignore her request. He stood up and followed Isabella to the bar.

"Terreur," Pierre muttered under his breath as he took a sip of his drink, expressing his disapproval.

"Hey, come on, man, she's still my sister," Marco intervened, defending Isabella. You looked at him, taken aback. The resemblance between Isabella and Marco was now unmistakable, with their dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

"She's your sister?" you asked, surprised. Marco simply nodded and took a sip of his drink.

As Charles and Isabella disappeared into the bustling bar, a knot formed in your stomach. You tried to maintain your composure, but a tinge of jealousy coursed through your veins. You couldn't help but wonder if there were lingering unresolved feelings between them.

Sofia sensed your unease and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, Y/N. Charles is here because of you, not Isabella."

You bit your lip nervously, shaking your head. This was precisely why you weren't seeking a relationship. The potential for unnecessary drama was a major deterrent.

When Charles returned, he appeared somewhat distant. Isabella accompanied him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders.

"All right, then I'll see you tomorrow," she purred, giving him a tender kiss on the cheek while keeping an eye on you, seemingly to assert her presence.

You glanced at the scene, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to stay unfazed by Isabella's actions. Soon, the dark-haired beauty vanished, and Charles settled back down beside you.

"Dude, what did the Wicked Witch of the West want?" Pierre asked Charles, clearly not thrilled about Isabella.

Charles looked at his friend, lost in thought. "Oh, nothing in particular. She just wanted to talk about some stuff," Charles explained, ordering another drink.

Observing your uneasiness, Charles placed a comforting hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked with warmth in his voice.

"Hmm?" you replied, unsure of what Charles was alluding to.

"You seem irritated."

Gazing into Charles's sincere eyes, you felt a whirlwind of emotions—happiness, apprehension, and a hint of fear.

"Oh, no, it's nothing," you smiled, picking up your drink. You discreetly pulled your hand away from under Charles, making him wonder if he had done something wrong, but he didn't say anything.

Later on, Pierre excused himself, mentioning that he had other friends at the venue. Marco was already engrossed in conversation with some other people. A new song blared from the speakers, and Sofia leaped to her feet, pulling Lorenzo onto the dance floor.

With the others gone, you and Charles found yourselves alone, and a shy smile spread across your face. Charles noticed your demeanor and scooted closer to you.

"So..." he said, locking eyes with you.

"So?" you replied, curious about where the conversation was heading.

After a brief pause, Charles continued, "I wanted to apologize about Isabella. She can be... a strong-willed individual who isn't quick to warm up to strangers."

You briefly looked away before responding, "That's okay. How long were you two together?"

Charles appeared surprised that you knew about Isabella. "Err, well, we were together for four years, with some... interruptions."

Understandingly, you smiled. "And let me guess. You broke up with her?"

"Is it that obvious?" Charles chuckled.

You tilted your head and joined in the laughter, "Only a little bit."

Charles took a sip of his drink and reclined in his chair, "To be honest, it wasn't easy. Isabella and I grew apart, and we wanted different things. Whenever I talked to Pierre or one of my brothers, they said that our relationship was toxic."

You nodded sympathetically, "I can understand that. It's tough when two people want different things."

Looking at you, Charles softened his gaze, "Yeah, it is. But I'm glad it ended. It was time for both of us to move on."

Smiling, you felt the connection with Charles again, even though you knew Isabella hadn't moved on as he had, but you didn't voice that thought. "I'm glad you're here with me tonight," you said softly.

"Me too, you. You're a breath of fresh air," Charles replied.

Your heart fluttered, and you felt a sense of excitement, finding Charles different from anyone you had ever met. He was kind, understanding, and genuinely interested in you.

As you continued talking and enjoying each other's company, your thoughts kept drifting back to Isabella. There was something about her that set off alarm bells in your head, making you feel uneasy about the situation.

As the night came to a close, you left the club, enveloped in the chilly night air. Sofia and Lorenzo were still deep in conversation, and you chuckled. Charles kindly draped his coat over your shoulders, and you thanked him with a smile, snuggling into its warmth.

"No problem. It's chilly out here," Charles replied, his voice low and husky. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Can I take you home?"

You glanced at Sofia, who nodded in approval, "I can take Lorenzo home," she said, taking Lorenzo's arm without giving him a chance to respond.

Smiling, you said goodbye to Sofia, and Charles led you to the parking lot. There, a sleek black Ferrari 488 Pista with the Monegasque flag caught your attention.

You gulped, not accustomed to such luxurious cars, but Charles opened the passenger door for you, and you took a deep breath before getting in.

Charles jogged around the car and slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine with a powerful roar that sent vibrations through your body. You drove through the streets of Monaco, and you couldn't help but be in awe of the city's beauty.

"Up for a small detour?" Charles asked suddenly, and you grinned, "I'm always up for that."

You wound your way up a hill overlooking the city. The breathtaking view of glittering city lights and the calm night atmosphere mesmerized you. Charles parked the car, and you sat together on a bench, taking in the serenity.

"Wow, it's beautiful," you gasped.

"It is," Charles agreed, looking at you with a soft gaze, not. He gathered his courage and held your hand again, hoping you wouldn't pull away this time. "I know we just met, but I feel like I've known you for a long time," he said sincerely.

Your heart fluttered, and you felt a warm sensation inside you, "I feel the same way," you replied, locking eyes with him.

Charles hesitated before asking, "When we were at the club, I took your hand, but you pulled away. I was just wondering..."

You sighed, explaining, "It's not because of you, Charles. I... I was hurt before. That's actually why I went on this trip. I got out of a messy relationship, and I'm not looking for something right now, you know? But then I met you, and it just feels right."

He listened attentively as you continued, "When your ex showed up, it reminded me of something I don't want in my life — drama. And drama is written all over Isabella's face."

Charles considered your words, knowing you were right. "Well, I can assure you one thing. I will never get back together with her. Never again. That ship has sailed."

You gazed into his eyes, and your heart swelled with admiration for his sincerity. "Does she know?"

"I hope so. We broke up in the past, I have to be honest. We always found our way back to each other, but now... It's been over a month, and I feel no urge to get back with her, especially after meeting you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your desire to kiss him grew stronger. He leaned in, and your lips met in a soft, tender kiss that soon deepened with passion.

As the kiss finally broke, Charles looked at you with adoration, "I've never met someone like you, Y/N," he whispered.

Feeling the same affection for him, you whispered back, "Neither have I." Your hand stroked his, and you smiled absently, savoring the moment.

Eventually, you decided to call it a night. Charles drove you to Sofia's place, and you shared a lingering goodbye kiss before parting ways.

As you lay in bed, you couldn't help but smile. You hadn't felt like this in a long time and felt fortunate to have met Charles.

At least, that's what you believed now.

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x Reader #Charles Leclerc Fanfic #Formula 1 x reader #Formula 1 #Charles Leclerc Romance #Formula 1 Romance #Ordinary x Celebrity #Celebrity relationship #Racing Hearts #Kim writes again

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rebelwrites · 4 months

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Seventeen: Baby You Ain’t As Anonymous As you Think.

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Standing amongst the crowd I watched Jax and Tig take the makeshift stage that had been built down by the lake. I was still unsure why we needed a stage this big but Jax and Pops were adamant they wanted it, they sure as hell loved theatrics. Tearing my gaze away from Jax I turned to look at Charles, who now had Elenor sitting on his shoulders, she had a proud smirk on her face like she had just walked into a candy store and the store owner told her everything was free.

“Tu vas bien, ma chérie ? Are you all right, darling?” Charles beamed, flashing me a smile.

“I will be,” I hummed, reaching up gently squeezing his arm. After the photos were released on instagram this morning I felt myself holding back from public displays of affection and it was killing me.

“Auntie Nova, can we have a movie night tonight?” Elenor grinned, fluttering her long eyelashes at me, “and can Uncle Charles and Uncle Pierre come as well?”

“I don’t see why not baby,” I beamed back at her before turning to Charles, “you down for movie night with my crazy ass family? There is a high possibility we will be making our way through all of the Cars movies,” I giggled, knowing that Elenor would beg and plead to put all three films on.

“Sunshine, didn’t you know Cars is one of my favorite movies,” he smirked with a wink.

“Alright then, Lightning McQueen.”

“Kachow.”

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands, trying to hide the snort that escaped my lips, “you did not just Kachow me. God, you are a giant dork!”

Before Charles could respond Jax’s voice echoed around the lake, as if the boy needed a microphone he was loud enough as it was, “I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone turning up today. Before we kick off the annual scavenger hunt I have just been made aware of a few donations that have come in anonymously.”

I found myself cocking my brow at my brother who just smirked at me, throwing me a wink as he pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket, “I honestly could cry at these donations. Two people have donated 26 thousand dollars between them, with 10 thousand dollars going towards the dementia charity and 16 thousand dollars being given,'' the words were getting caught in his throat, as he covered his eyes with his hand trying to stop the tears, “to the Teller family to help with any future care that JT needs.”

There was nothing stopping the tears from spilling over my lashline, I didn’t even try to stop them. That's when it hit me, everything made perfect sense. Two donations which both happened to be the same numbers as the two dorks standing either side of me drove under. Without saying a word I turned to Pierre pulling him into a tight hug, before turning to Charles reaching my hand up resting it on his cheek with a watery smile on my face.

“Baby, you ain’t as anonymous as you think,” I whispered, feeling him copy my movements but instead of letting his hand sit still against my skin he slowly used his thumb to wipe away my tears.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sunshine.”

The rest of the day went by in one big blur, the scavenger hunt was a success, even if it was the first year where I didn’t win but I didn’t care. My focus was on Charles, I wanted to enjoy the little time we had left together so the afternoon was spent wandering around town, showing Charles the places that held fond memories for me. All whilst keeping an eye out for people that might be trying to leak pictures of the two of us, luckily for us everyone was more focused on the events of the day then me and Charles.

“I just need to finish up here then we can head back to mine,” I hummed, leaning up on my tiptoes pressing my lips against his cheek.

“Take your time Sunshine,” he smiled, picking Elenor up, sitting her on the top of the bar.

I couldn’t help but smile as I walked away from the two of them, slipping into the back I needed to find Jax. I knew where he would be, taking a deep breath I wrapped my fingers around the door handle before slowly pushing it open. I needed to clear the air between us. I hated the fact we had hardly spoken all day.

“Hey,” I said quietly, leaning against the wooden frame.

“Hey, yourself,” he said looking up from the paper that was in his hands, “about earlier,”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said softly, fiddling with the sleeves of Charles hoodie, “my head has been all over the place recently with you know,” I paused, dropping my gaze to my hands, “everything with Pops and the social media post, then you tell me we fucked up with Juice, I just kinda exploded.”

“We do need to talk about it though,” Jax sighed, dropping the paper onto the desk.

“I know,” I whispered, finally looking back up at my brother, “I need to get my head straight first, okay.”

“Okay,” Jax nodded, pushing himself up to his feet, taking a few strides across the small room before he pulled me into a tight hug, “I still love you, don’t worry about that Squirt.”

Resting my cheek against the cool leather, I took another deep breath, “enough mushy shit, Elenor wants a movie night so lock the office up and let's get outta here.”

Jax didn’t take much convincing, I knew that movie nights were his favorite, taking a step back, I started walking back into the main room. The moment I stepped out behind the bar I felt my blood starting to boil at the sight that was in front of me. My fingers twitched as I formed a fist, I was ready to punch a bitch.

She was pushing her fake ass tits up against Charles and fluttering her false eyelashes.

“If you wanna live, I would suggest you walk away whilst you have the chance,” I said through gritted teeth, pausing so I could unclench my fist covering Elenor’s ears, “you fucking skanky ass bitch.”

The smirk that Ima flashed made me want to grab the knife from behind me, the one that we used to cut up the lemon and limes, “well, let's be real, you aren’t the kind of person that Charlie goes for,” she laughed, turning back to Charles, running her fingers across his cheek. I didn’t miss the slight flinch that happened when she made contact with him.

“If you wanna be real, then I can get real,” I growled, placing my palm on the bar, shifting my weight onto my hand. I launched myself over the counter, “I might just start a bonfire out back, throwing your scrawny ass on it, watching you melt in the flames,” before she had a chance to respond, my fingers were tangled in her hair extensions, yanking her head back with so much force I was surprised I didn’t snap her neck.

“Get off me you golddigger,” she screamed, trying to claw at my hands.

“Do you even know who he is?” I asked, cocking my brow.

“Some football player,” she said with so much confidence I couldn’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, such a skilled football player,” I said with a playful tone, locking eyes with Charles, watching as he laughed slightly with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jax, leaning against the back worktop with a smug smirk on his face, “need any help Squirt?” he asked, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Nah, I’ve got this,” I nodded, tugging harder on Ima’s hair causing her to scream, “the trash just needs taking out, that's all,” I growled, storming out of the bar, dragging Ima behind me.

Ignoring the sound of her cries I didn’t stop until I was standing outside of the building. I didn’t care if I was being over dramatic, this bitch needed to keep her hands off things that didn’t belong to her, like my man.

Shit, I was calling him my man now.

Fuck, I was acting like a jealous girlfriend!

I didn’t even know if I could call myself Charles’ girlfriend, just the thought made my heart skip a beat but I knew that come the end of the summer break he would be back doing what he did best. Racing around tracks at 200 miles an hour, living that playboy life, more than likely forgetting I existed.

Pushing the thoughts down I let my fist collide with Ima’s nose feeling the familiar crunching feeling under my knuckles, “you better stay away from him if you don’t want your whole face reconstructed.”

Loosening my grip on her cheap ass extensions I spun around on the balls of my feet, strolling back into the bar with a proud smirk on my face. The moment I got close enough to Charles, he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in between his thighs.

“You getting protective over me now, Sunshine?” he hummed, slipping his hand underneath the hoodie letting his fingers brush against the skin of my lower back, causing sparks to erupt across my skin.

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I shook my head slightly, “nah, I just don’t want you catching an STD or something,” I said calmly.

The smirk on Charles face was enough to cause my knees to wobble, if it wasn’t for his strong arms wrapped around me I was pretty sure they would have given out on me.

“You sure about that, Babygirl,” he purred, leaning closer so his nose brushed against mine.

The two of us were locked in the moment, it was like there was no one else in the room with us, like we were protected by a bubble, until Jax rang the last order bell, causing me to jump at the unexpected sound, “I do not need to see whatever this,” he scoffed, waving his hands in the air, “is gonna lead to.”

“Oh Jackson, leave your sister alone,” Pops scolded, causing me to pull away from Charles slightly, instantly being greeted by a warm smile from Pops, “she’s young and in love, leave her be.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes at my father, “who said anything about love?”

“Oh sunshine,” Charles beamed, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “you are so in love with me, it’s written all over your beautiful face.”

Instantly I could feel the heat in the room rising, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as Charles slowly moved his fingers across my cheek and I was pretty sure my ears were the same shade of red as his hoodie I was wearing.

“I can uninvite you from family movie night, ya know,” I huffed, pouting at him, “so I’d think carefully about who’s side you take.”

“No you can’t Auntie Nova,” Elenor said loudly, “I invited him so you can’t kick him out.”

“Yeah, Auntie Nova, I’m Elenor’s guest,” he hummed. The smile on Charles' face turned into a smug smirk as he moved his hand into the air so Elenor could fist bump him, “thanks for having my back Ellie-bear,” he grinned, throwing her a wink. I couldn’t believe this, everyone was ganging up on me.

“Sempre zio Charles, sempre,” she grinned.

I couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the expression on Jax’s face as he watched his little girl speak in another language. Yes she didn’t pronounce it perfectly but for her age it was really good.

“And in English?” he asked, letting his eyes dart between me and his daughter.

“She said, always uncle Charles, always,” I beamed, leaning over and ruffling her hair. “in Italian.”

“Princess, where did you learn that?” Jax asked with a proud smile on his face, as he walked around the bar until he was now scooping her up in his arms.

“Pierre told me what uncle was in Italian and I knew what always was,” she giggled.

“I wonder where she learned that from,” Jax said with a playful tone, cocking his brow at me.

“No idea,” I shrugged, wiggling out of Charles arms.

“Yes you do auntie Nov,” Elenor grinned. Was I really about to be called out by my five year old niece? “you are always saying ‘Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Apparently I was.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x oc #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #Charles Leclerc series #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine

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bloodylullaby · 9 days

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Give Me Something Beautiful

Summary: Morrigan's ordinary life takes an extraordinary turn when Noah Sebastian, the lead singer of Bad Omens, stumbles upon her quaint little shop adorned with her captivating photography. Intrigued by her talent and drawn to her genuine spirit, Noah invites Morrigan to capture the essence of his band's concert through her lens. Their initial friendship blossoms into a deep and meaningful connection as they spend time together, fueled by their shared love for art and music. Despite their challenges as their worlds collide, Morrigan and Noah navigate the complexities of fame and intimacy, ultimately finding solace and strength in each other's arms. Through their journey from strangers to lovers, they discover that amidst life's chaos, true beauty lies in the simple moments shared between two souls destined to be together.

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OC

Word Count: 4379

Content Warning: Drinking, Smut!!!!, Dom/Sub, Spitting, Oral (male and female)

Tag List: @thescarletvvitch @malerieee @lookwhatitcost @herbhuntress @thatgirlforever5 @xxkittenkissesxx @lma1986 @blackgirlmagicforever

Chapter Eleven

I woke up at nine this morning, feeling a surge of energy and excitement coursing through me. After the whirlwind of events over the last couple of days, my feelings for Noah grew, and the anticipation of seeing him again was unmatched. As I eagerly got dressed, I couldn't help but channel my excitement into my outfit choice. Opting for a small black dress paired with fishnet stockings and platform boots, I felt a sense of empowerment and readiness for whatever the day had in store for us.

With each step, my anticipation grew, fueled by the promise of new adventures and shared moments with Noah. Today would be special, and I was determined to make the most of every second spent in his company. My phone vibrated, and I looked down, seeing I had received a text from Jolly.

Jolly: Hey, we are meeting in the lobby in two minutes

Me: Okay, sounds good! I’ll be down there in less than one!

Jolly: How did your night with Noah go last night? ;)

Me: We just watched a movie and ate some food goof, nothing more.

Jolly: That’s not what he’s saying ;)

My cheeks grew hot as I read and re-read the text. Despite my attempt to brush off Jolly's teasing, his words lingered in my mind as I went down to the lobby, where the boys were already gathered. Our first stop of the day was a local restaurant for brunch, and the atmosphere was lively and cheerful. With two rounds of bottomless mimosas already making their way around the table, I couldn't help but feel content in the company of my friends. Today was shaping up to be another great day, and I never wanted it to end.

Our next stop was the zoo, and as we entered through the gates, I felt a surge of excitement. The vibrant colors, the sounds of exotic animals, and children's laughter filled the air, creating an atmosphere of wonder and curiosity. We spent hours wandering through the different exhibits, marveling at the diversity of wildlife from around the world. From majestic lions to playful monkeys swinging from tree to tree, each animal seemed to hold its own unique charm. As we explored, Noah's hand found mine, and we walked side by side, sharing smiles and whispered conversations.

I was the most excited when we reached the petting zoo area. Interaction with the animals up close filled me with childlike delight. I eagerly grabbed Bryan's camera, insisting he take pictures of me with the deer and capybaras, not wanting to let these precious memories slip away. With each camera click, I posed with broad smiles and outstretched hands, reveling in the joy of connecting with these gentle creatures.

Behind Bryan, I noticed Noah standing a few steps away, his gaze fixed on me with an equally broad smile. Our eyes met, and it was as if he could see straight into my soul, sharing the joy and excitement written across my face. I couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through me at the sight of his genuine expression. After our long but exhilarating day at the zoo, we decided to keep the fun going and headed to Dave & Buster's. The lively atmosphere of the arcade greeted us as we stepped inside, filled with the sounds of games and laughter.

We wasted no time diving into the array of arcade games, competing against each other in rounds of air hockey, racing simulations, and classic arcade games. The competitive spirit was contagious, and soon, we were all fully immersed in the excitement of the games, cheering each other on and celebrating every victory and close call. As the cheers for the games filled the air, so did the clinking of glasses and the laughter of friends. We indulged in rounds of drinks, each sip adding to the festive atmosphere of the evening.

As more rounds of drinks made their way to our table, I couldn't help but notice the hunger in Noah's gaze as his eyes lingered on me. With each sip of alcohol, I felt my inhibitions slipping away, replaced by a sense of playfulness. The more relaxed I became, the more I found myself teasing Noah, playfully egging him on with a mischievous glint in my eye. His reactions only fueled my teasing further, creating a playful dynamic between us that was both exhilarating and intoxicating.

As the night wore on and the drinks continued to flow, our banter evolved into something more flirtatious, charged with an undeniable tension that seemed to linger in the air around us. With every playful exchange, a magnetic pull drew me closer to Noah, igniting a spark of desire that simmered beneath the surface. As I joined Jolly for a game of pool, I couldn't resist the urge to tease Noah. I made sure to lean over the table with calculated precision. I deliberately adjusted my position, ensuring my dress rode up just enough to offer him a tantalizing glimpse.

In those stolen moments, our eyes met, and I could see the flicker of desire mirrored in his gaze. It was a silent dance of seduction, a playful game of cat and mouse that only added to the growing tension between us. The group and I eventually returned to the hotel, laughter, and chatter filling the air as we rode the elevator to our floor. There was never a dull moment or a single second of silence as we recounted the day's highlights. As we made our way toward our respective rooms, I felt a sudden tug on my wrist, pulling me off course and into a nearby room.

Noah shuts the door behind him and locks it, turning around to lean his back against it. He looks at me with a mixture of amusement and something more intense. Suddenly, I feel small, heat rising not only to my cheeks but also to my core. "You know... you weren't as quiet as you thought you were on the phone the other night," he said, his eyes growing darker. My heart skips a beat at his words. His gaze is unwavering, making me feel both vulnerable and thrilled. He takes a step closer, the air between us charged with an unspoken tension.

“I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to act clueless. Noah tsked softly, stepping closer, causing me to take a step back instinctively. The room suddenly felt smaller as he closed the distance between us.

"Oh, I think you do," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His eyes never left mine, and I could feel my pulse quicken. Every step he took made my heart race faster, the anticipation building. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he continued, a sly smile on his lips. I took another step back, and the back of my legs hit the bed, causing me to fall backward onto it. As I quickly sat up, Noah leaned down so he was at eye level with me. His face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. The intensity of his gaze made it hard to breathe, and I could feel the heat radiating off him as he whispered, "There's no need to pretend, you know."

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing heart. Noah's proximity was overwhelming, his presence intoxicating. "What do you want from me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. His eyes softened momentarily as he gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"I want you to be honest with me," he said softly, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "No more hiding, no more pretending." His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I could feel the sincerity in his gaze, the unspoken promise of something more profound.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "Alright," I said, my voice steadying. "No more pretending." The admission shifted something between us, the tension giving way to a sense of understanding and connection. Noah's smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against mine in a tender kiss. It was gentle at first, then more insistent, as if he was trying to convey all the emotions we had both kept hidden. I kissed him back, losing myself in the sensation, feeling his touch's warmth and his lips' softness.

We pulled apart, breathing heavily while staring into each other's eyes, silently confirming that we were ready to take things further. The moment's intensity hung between us, filled with unspoken promises and shared desires. Noah's hand cupped my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

"Before we go any further," he started to say with warmth in his voice, "I’m into some nasty shit, and I want you to know so we can go over some boundaries." Shock and excitement flooded into my system, my heart racing even faster.

"Okay," I replied, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. "Let's talk about it."

Noah smiled, relieved by my response. "I want us to enjoy this and feel safe. So, let's take a moment to discuss what we're both comfortable with and set some clear boundaries." I nodded, feeling a little dizzy from the rush of emotions. I had a basic understanding of what I liked, but talking about it openly was intimidating. My mind raced with thoughts of what might come next, but I knew this conversation was necessary.

"I... I haven't talked about this much before," I admitted, my voice shaky but sincere.

"That's okay," Noah reassured me, his eyes gentle and understanding. "We can take it slow. Just tell me what you're comfortable with and curious about."

Taking a deep breath, I began to share my thoughts and feelings. “I—” I stopped mid-sentence, blushing hard. I diverted my gaze anywhere but where he was. He gently placed his thumb on my chin and redirected my gaze.

“There’s no need to be shy, sweetheart. I promise, whatever you’re about to say, I’m into it as well,” he said reassuringly.

Reassured by his words, I felt a surge of confidence. "Okay," I said, my voice a little steadier. “I may or may not like to be dominated and thrown around.”

A slow smile spread across Noah's face, his eyes darkening with interest. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice taking on a deeper, more seductive tone. "I'm more than okay with that."

His reaction sent a thrill through me, both nervous and excited. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed, moving closer. "What else, cutie?"

"Well, with that comes the whole dom and sub situation, so I like everything that comes along with that—spanking, praise, humiliation, to name a few," I stated, looking into his eyes. “I am also open to what you like. I'm willing to try different things."

He hummed in appreciation, his eyes sweeping over me thoughtfully. "I appreciate your honesty," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "I enjoy being dominant, and I love seeing my partner's reactions to different sensations and experiences. We'll take it step by step, and if anything feels too much, just tell me."

I nodded, feeling more at ease with each passing moment. "Okay, I will."

`Noah's smile widened, and he leaned in, capturing my lips in a deep, passionate kiss. When he pulled back, he whispered, "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue." Straightening my back, I did as he said eagerly. He put his hand on my cheek and then spit into my mouth. "Swallow," he lightly commanded.

I obeyed, feeling a thrill run through me at his words. The act sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes watched me closely, gauging my reaction and finding approval in my compliance.

"Good girl. You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice full of warmth and satisfaction. "Remember, you're safe with me. If you need to stop anytime, just let me know."

. "Okay," I said with a nod.

“Okay, what?” he asked

“Okay, Sir,” I replied with a red face.

"Good," he said, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. "Let's explore this together." He leaned in to kiss me again, this time deeper and more fervent, his hands roaming over my body, igniting a fire within me.

He pulled me up off the bed and began to discard my clothing, each piece dropping to the floor with a soft thud. Once I was fully naked, he slowly guided me back down onto the bed. As I sat, he knelt before me, his gaze intense and focused.

"Lay back," he commanded. I did as he said, feeling a rush of anticipation coursing through me. He lifted my legs over his shoulders, positioning himself between them. My breath caught as he ran his hands up my torso, sending shivers down my spine. His touch was both gentle and possessive, igniting a fire within me. He locked eyes and whispered, "This is my favorite part."

With that, he lowered his head between my thighs, his warm breath sending waves of pleasure through me. He lightly kissed my thighs while occasionally nipping at them, followed by a quick lick at those spots. As he slowly made his way to my core, my anticipation built, aching for his touch. I arched my back, gasping at the sensation as he began to explore me with his tongue, each touch sending me closer to the edge of ecstasy. His movements were deliberate and skilled, each flick of his tongue driving me wild with desire. I moaned, lost in the pleasure of his touch, my hands gripping the sheets beneath me while my thighs closed around his head, urging him closer.

He lifted his head as he inserted two fingers into me, eliciting a deep moan from my lips. “Not only do you taste incredible, but you're taking my fingers so well, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He then used his thumb to circle my clit, causing me to whimper in pleasure. He chuckled softly at my reaction, sending shivers down my spine. The combination of his fingers inside me and his thumb and tongue on my most sensitive spot sent waves of pleasure radiating through my body, each touch bringing me closer to the edge of bliss. I arched my back, pressing myself into his touch, craving more of the exquisite sensation he was providing. With each stroke of his thumb, I felt myself teetering on the brink of release, my breath hitching with anticipation of the ecstasy to come.

As his thumb continued its relentless stimulation, I felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening deep within me. My breaths came in shallow gasps, my body trembling with anticipation. Noah's touch was driving me to the brink of ecstasy, each stroke sending me closer to the edge. Sensing my impending release, Noah increased the pressure of his fingers, his movements becoming more urgent. I could feel the heat building within me, a wildfire of sensation threatening to consume me entirely. With one final, tantalizing stroke, I shattered into a million pieces, my climax crashing over me like a tidal wave. I cried out his name, my voice a symphony of pleasure, as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me.

"You did so well for me, baby," he cooed, his voice filled with admiration and affection. He gently pulled me up after peppering me with soft, slow kisses, steadying me with his strong embrace. "Get on your knees," he commanded softly, his tone both authoritative and tender. Feeling a rush of excitement and anticipation, I obeyed without hesitation, sinking to my knees before him. My heart raced with desire as I looked up at him through my eyelashes, my gaze filled with longing and anticipation.

He slowly undid his pants and took them off, along with his shirt, leaving him in only his boxers. While maintaining eye contact with me, he finally removed his boxers, his cock springing out free. One hand snaked into my hair, grabbing a handful of it, while the other gently stroked his cock. As precum oozed out of the tip, he brought it closer to my face, rubbing it on my lips, teasing me with the intoxicating sensation, and then slapping me with it.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured as he gently tapped my face with his cock. "Open up, baby. I want to see how well you can take me in with your mouth." I parted my lips with a shaky breath, eagerly anticipating his taste on my tongue. As I leaned forward, he guided himself into my mouth, his grip tightening in my hair as he let out a low groan of pleasure. The feeling of him filling my mouth sent a thrill through me, igniting a hunger I never knew I had.

I parted my lips with a shaky breath, eagerly anticipating his taste on my tongue. As I leaned forward, he guided himself into my mouth, his grip tightening in my hair as he let out a low groan of pleasure. The feeling of him filling my mouth sent a thrill through me, igniting a hunger I never knew I had. I took him in slowly, savoring every inch of his hardness as I slid my lips down his shaft. His cock throbbed against my tongue, eliciting a moan of satisfaction from deep within his throat. With each movement, I felt myself surrendering to the rhythm of our passion, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his heat against my lips.

I swirled my tongue around him, tracing the contours of his cock as I explored every inch of his length. His breath hitched in his chest, his fingers tightening in my hair as I teased him with gentle flicks and swirls. Each movement brought him closer to the edge, his arousal building with every passing moment.

Encouraged by his response, I increased the pressure of my suction, engulfing him with a hunger that matched his own. I took him deeper into my mouth, reveling in the feeling of him stretching me as I eagerly accepted all he had to give.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good. You take this cock so well," he moans. His hips began to rock gently, matching the rhythm of my movements. I could feel the tension building within him, the urge to release coursing through his veins. His hand tangled in my hair, urging me to take him deeper. "Just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. "God, you look so fucking sexy with my cock in your mouth."

With each thrust, I could feel him getting closer, his muscles tensing, his breathing becoming more ragged. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, swirling my tongue around the tip, drawing out a series of desperate moans from him. His hips bucked involuntarily, and he began to lose control.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. With one final, desperate thrust, he erupted, his body shuddering with the force of his release. I swallowed eagerly, savoring his taste, feeling the warm, salty essence coat my tongue. I continued to gently suck and lick, milking every last drop from him. Finally, I pulled back slowly, a satisfied smile on my lips, savoring his taste and the look of pure ecstasy on his face.

After he caught his breath, he pulled me up and effortlessly threw me over his shoulders. I squealed with surprise as he carried me to the bed and playfully tossed me onto the soft mattress, eliciting giggles. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he climbed on top of me, his hands resting on either side of my head. I looked up at him, my heart pounding with anticipation as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my skin.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you're going to pray that you can walk afterward," he whispered, his voice low and filled with raw desire. His words sent a shiver of excitement coursing through me, anticipation building with each passing moment. I met his gaze, my eyes darkening with lust as I eagerly awaited his next move.

As our lips melded in an emotional embrace, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of his touch. His kisses were urgent and demanding, igniting a hunger deep within me. I responded with equal enthusiasm, my hands tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer, craving more of him. With a low growl of desire, he pressed his body against mine, the hardness of his arousal evident against my skin. His hands roamed possessively over my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he explored every curve and contour.

I moaned into his mouth, my desire matching his, as I surrendered myself entirely to the overwhelming intensity of the moment. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me with each caress. With practiced skill, he began to explore my body, his lips trailing a path of kisses and gentle bites down the curve of my neck and along the swell of my breasts. I arched into his touch, my breath coming in ragged gasps as he teased and tormented me with his mouth.

Finally, Noah lifted my right leg and placed it over his shoulder, positioning himself between my thighs. With a deep, longing gaze, he lined himself up with my entrance, his hardness pressing against me. Slowly, he began to enter me, inch by inch, eliciting moans of pleasure from both of us. The sensation of him filling me wholly sent waves of ecstasy coursing through my body, each movement drawing us closer together. I arched my back, meeting his thrusts with desperate hunger, craving more of him with every passing moment.

"Fuck baby, your pussy is taking this dick like a champ," he breathes. With each thrust, our desire's intensity fuels our passion's flames. We moved together in perfect harmony, lost in the rhythm of our bodies as we surrendered ourselves entirely to the overwhelming pleasure of the moment. The faster Noah went, the more intense the whimpering became, escaping from my lips in a chorus of pleasure that echoed throughout the room. The overwhelming sensation of his thrusts drove me to new heights of ecstasy, rendering me so loud that I had to cover my mouth to muffle the sounds of my pleasure.

"Does it feel good, hmm?" Noah's voice was a seductive whisper in my ear, sending shivers down my spine even as his movements continued to drive me wild with desire. "I love hearing how good this dick makes you feel, babydoll," he murmured, his words fueling the fire of our passion even further. His dirty talk only served to heighten my arousal, sending me spiraling even closer to the edge of oblivion. With each word, each thrust, I felt myself unraveling, lost in a haze of pleasure that consumed me entirely.

"Noah," I moaned, unable to contain my desire any longer. "Yes, yes, it feels so fucking good," I gasped, my words punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusting. Encouraged by my response, Noah's movements became more urgent and desperate as he chased his release.

His hands roamed over my trembling body, tracing every curve and igniting a fiery response from deep within. As they explored, eliciting desperate cries of pleasure, they paused at my neck, his grip tightening, sending a surge of exhilaration through me. I arched my back, seeking closer contact, yearning for the intensity of his touch. Each caress sparked a wildfire of sensation, consuming me entirely as I surrendered to the rapture of our connection. Lost in the dizzying whirlwind of our passion, I writhed beneath him, my senses ablaze with the intoxicating ecstasy of his embrace.

With each thrust, he drove me relentlessly toward the precipice of pleasure, his fervent encouragement echoing in my ears like a symphony of desire. The intensity of his words propelled me to greater heights of ecstasy, each sensation building upon the last until I felt like I was teetering on the edge of oblivion. And then, with a final, agonizingly slow thrust, we both reached the pinnacle of ecstasy. Our bodies collided in a tumultuous explosion of passion, waves of pleasure crashing over us in a crescendo that left us both gasping for air.

We clung to each other in the aftermath, our bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of our shared climax. Noah's breath was hot against my skin as he pressed gentle kisses to my neck, his hands tracing soothing patterns over my sweat-slicked skin. I sighed contentedly, feeling completely and utterly satisfied in his arms. It was moments like these when the world seemed to fade away, and all that mattered was the two of us together, that I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Noah eased himself out of me, his touch gentle and tender as he caressed my skin. With a soft smile, he leaned down to press a series of soft kisses along my neck and collarbone, his lips warm against my skin. As he held me close, his arms wrapped protectively around me, I felt a profound sense of peace. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear, his voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves.

"You did so incredibly well, baby," Noah murmured, his voice soft with affection, his eyes filled with tenderness as he looked deep into mine. His words, a gentle melody, wrapped around me like a warm embrace, soothing any lingering doubts or insecurities. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, spreading slowly across my face as I basked in the warmth of his praise.

The love and admiration in Noah's gaze filled me with a sense of peace and contentment, like the soothing embrace of a gentle tide. With a soft sigh, I nestled closer to him, seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace. I rested my head against his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. At that moment, enveloped in his arms, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging, as if I had finally found my place in the world.

#bad omens band #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian davis #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fluff #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian smut #bad omens cult

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skybristle · 2 months

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rbs > likes

wooo whispers!!! i ended up overhauling them quite a bit especially colors wise.

#my art #rain world #rain world oc #rain world fanart #rw iterator #oc tag: wandering whispers #story tag: bending horizons

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blimbo-buddy · 1 year

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New reference sheets for five of my ocs, speedran through all of them just a few days before Artfight started, transparent versions underneath. Story they're from is titled Wandering Whispers (title is a wip)

DO NOT TAG THESE AS WARRIOR CATS, THEY ARE NOT WARRIOR CATS OCS

#blimmy art #oc #wandering whispers #howler ww #chives ww #pumpkin ww #payaso ww #pinto ww

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staycalmandhugaclone · 10 months

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You'll Have to Go Through Me

We're at a point where I strongly recommend not reading this until after working your way through the entirety of Doc's Misadventures beginning, of course with Touch Starved!

There are still some slots left for the 400 follower celebration. I'll be bouncing between Doc fics and reader oc fics bit by bit (though, I can't really stop mid arc for brain reasons, so you'll get part 2 of this fic before I pop back into Asks)

Last head's up: Given my last fics weren't Doc fics, I didn't start this yet, but after today, I'll be reducing my tag list. If folks haven't interacted in some way for a few fics, I'm going to stop tagging you. Because Tumblr just can't do things easily for me, I frequently hand type my entire list, so if yuh want me to take the time to tag you, ya'll have to give me something back so I know I'm not tagging people who've lost interest or aren't even on here anymore. To all my lovelies who silently reblog: I adore you and you can do no wrong in this world! To those of you who frequently comment/chat with me about this crazy little world I accidentally made: I would happily burn the world to see you smile

Warnings: Lots of heavy emotions in this one - angst, guilt, angry, blame, got some profanity in there, and reference to child soldiers kinda

WC: 3,171

There was a rumor that the Kaminoan’s eyes could see colors humans simply couldn’t; that everything from the unblemished armor of shinies to the very reports endlessly updating on their communicators was overlaid with additional data invisible to those deemed a “lesser race.” That rumor left the identical, monotone halls of their cities feeling even more unwelcoming; as though secrets laid all around me, taunting my every step in some undeniable proof that their prejudiced beliefs held a merit I would never be able to fight, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that anymore.

I roamed those immaculate halls aimlessly, purely for the want of letting myself get lost in them. The need to hide, to flee despite there being nowhere I could run drove me to wander endlessly through the most distant corridors, blindly staring at barracks that had long since been left abandoned as the production of clones lessened with every day that passed. Once, each of the countless rooms around me had been home to cadets too young to understand the horrors awaiting them, and I bleakly wondered how many of those children were now lost to the never-ending demand for sacrifice towards a goal that seemed just as distance now as it had during that very first battle.

I’d nearly walked past him, utterly oblivious to his presence until his helm shifted just enough to catch my attention, and, with a sharp gasp, I was ripped from the illusioned reprieve of my thoughts.

“Kriff!” The curse hissed through clenched teeth, wide eyes locking on the lithe figure leaning silently against the tiny inlet of a doorframe. That silence lingered until my panic withered into that too familiar dread, air catching in my lungs as I stood frozen before him.

“We’re leaving in an hour. Hunter sent you a com.” He stated, and I nearly broke from the chill in his raspy voice.

“I… I haven’t read it, yet…” I finally admitted, jaw stiff. I’d remembered how my heart had dropped at the alert for the incoming message, certain I’d find orders detailing my reassignment lingering within, and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to look. Crosshair said nothing for a long moment, and I had to fight the nervous dance of my fingers. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, and a new panic overwhelmed me.

“Wait!” I gasped, body stealing a half-step toward him before locking up once more. He paused, but didn’t turn back, and I could feel something on the verge of shattering within me.

“I thought you said you didn’t regret it.” It was quiet, as though whispering those words might hide the hurt in them, and the air fled me in a shuttered exhale.

“I…” My throat locked around that choked word, and I cursed myself for faltering when I so desperately wanted to offer him some hint of reassurance, but I could only stare as his shoulders sank before starting through those sickeningly pristine halls once more.

“Wait…” I begged, voice barely audible, but he didn’t stop, and finally, my body remembered itself. “Wait! Wait, dammit! I don’t regret being with you!” I shouted, racing forward to cut him off. He said nothing as he stared down at me, that emotionless visor offering nothing of the warmth with which he’d looked at me just days prior, and I could feel myself wilt beneath it. Letting out a carefully controlled exhale, I reached up to remove my own helmet, robbing myself of what protection that barrier feigned to lay myself bare before him.

“They… they can’t even look at me, Crosshair…” I whispered, and I could see the dark circles beneath my eyes in the sliver of my reflection, “and I don’t… I don’t know how to deal with that.” I couldn’t breathe as I waited anxiously for some manner of response. When he finally began to move, that need surged anew within me, and I could only watch as his hand slowly reached up to trail lightly along my jaw until his palm rested against my cheek.

“I told you they’d figure it out.” A short scoff escaped me, and I couldn’t keep myself from shifting further into his touch. My lips parted, breath catching with the beginnings of speech, but I felt the words abandon me, too weary to force out a response. Instead, I let myself grasp his hand reverently between both of mine and turned just enough to press my lips firmly against his gloved palm, fingers tightening with a desperation I couldn’t risk giving voice as I listened to the air leave him in a slow sigh. Without a word, he pulled his hand away and wrapped his arms around me. I didn’t hesitate, eagerly pressing myself against him for that familiar comfort of his embrace.

“Every time that damn com went off…” I whispered hiding against the rigid planes of his chest plate as sobs vied to rob even those strained words from me, “I was so sure it was an alert that I’d been reassigned…” and, I couldn’t fight back the tiny hitch of a sob as his arms tightened.

“That’s not going to happen.” A hopeless huff of laughter escaped me, but when he called my name, I found my gaze automatically turning up to his, and I couldn’t bring myself to doubt him. “Just give them some time… Please.” How could I not yield beneath the raw need in his voice? I barely noticed the way my head subtly nodded against him, but that didn’t diminish the truth of the gesture. Of course, I would give them time. I would grant them as long as they needed regardless the way my heart twisted at the mere thought of subjecting myself to the terrible quiet they fell into at the very threat of my presence… I knew I could never leave them… any of them… not unless they told me to… I’d promised.

I’d hidden away in those abandoned halls for three days before he’d come to find me. Following him back to the hanger had the same taste as an akk dog being dragged home from the pound, and I couldn’t keep my gaze from studying the metal ramp below as we eventually reached the Marauder. I’d finally glanced at my datapad as we walked and found myself wishing I hadn’t. There were only two lines of text in that initial com: the time of the mission brief, which I’d missed, and the time we were meant to leave, which we only barely made it back by. A subsequent message appeared to summarize that brief, but I didn’t have time to more than open it.

As soon as the ramp locked into place, Crosshair pulled off his helmet and stored it in his gun locker. I started to do the same, but paused at the sudden quiet that stole through him once I’d removed my bucket, fingers absently shifting over the ridge where padding covered the unyielding plastoid. He said nothing as he stepped toward me, but I melted at the first feel of his hand slipping up the back of my neck to just tangle into the base of my hair as his lips pressed against my forehead. He held me like that until the ship began to rise, and then he left, silently disappearing into the cockpit where, I assumed, the rest of his brothers waited.

I knew those little moments of softness were, in part, merely an effort to distract me from the guilt ceaselessly twisting through my chest, but that realization didn’t lessen the warmth they granted me. I’d always believed there was more to him than the snarky, eternally unimpressed persona he so loved to flaunt about, but to find myself the subject of such gentle affection was something I would never weary of.

Finding myself alienated from his brothers, however, was a sorrow that contrasted so starkly with the thrill that lingered after Crosshair’s touch that I was left in a place of violently conflicting wants and regrets each too overwhelming to allow even a moment’s understanding of any one emotion. Part of me wanted to follow him, to plead some ignorance that the easy dynamic we’d fallen into hadn’t been shattered so effortlessly, but I couldn’t.

Images of the detached distance in Hunter’s eyes when he’d last looked at me sent me, instead, to the small kitchenette if only to busy myself with restocking menial items in some useless plight to distract myself. When those heavy footsteps sounded from down the hall, however, I found myself regretting that decision, despite how I loathed the thought of hiding away in the medbay again, but my heart raced at the thought of Wrecker coming to a sharp halt at the doorway, at the awkward silence that would fall as he tried to make some excuse to flee, and the coming devastation that would bring me.

I didn’t turn to him when he stopped just outside, attention carefully turned away from him to grant an easier escape, but he didn’t move. After a few tense seconds, I glanced hesitantly toward him, and found myself frozen at the quiet in those mismatched eyes as he looked at me.

“I was worried you weren’t coming back.” He murmured, and I had to turn away for a moment, lungs straining to draw in a steady breath before I could answer him.

“I was worried you might not want me to.” His broad shoulders dropped, automatically taking several steps nearer to me before catching himself.

“Of course, we do!” He said quickly, voice vainly forced into something of a hushed whisper. “It’s just… it’s hard, I guess… different… but that don’t mean we don’t want you around! Just… gotta figure out how everything fits, now, I guess…” Relief and turmoil warred through me as he stammered to explain, and I had to catch my lip between my teeth at the question that followed. “Is that why you stayed away?”

“I think… I think I was trying to figure out how things fit, too…” I answered, stumbling over the same inadequacy of spoken word to touch on the chaos and doubt that led me to wander those abandoned halls.

“… Crosshair… he makes you happy?” He asked suddenly, and my gaze instantly darted back up to find his focus staring blindly toward the too-small table meant to house half the number we’d so often crammed around it.

“… yeah… he does” I hated the hesitation in my voice, and found myself wanting to say more; to offer some promise that… that what? That it wasn’t that Wrecker didn’t make me happy? That the whirlwind of emotions storming relentlessly through me was so devastatingly confusing that I couldn’t begin to sort through them? That I had to bite my tongue to keep from begging him not to hate me? Trapped in that indecision, I allowed myself to say nothing at all, and his response nearly brought me to tears.

“That’s good.” There was still a subtle edge of sorrow in his voice, but I couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his words, which made them all the more painful to hear. “Things have been… hard lately - guess they always are, but… you and Cross… Yuh both needed something to be happy about. So, I’m happy for yuh… Just… sorry it took me a while to figure that out.”

My breath fled me in a broken sigh, and I instantly threw myself toward him, arms locking around his shoulders as my face hid against his neck. I felt him automatically move to return the embrace before freezing, body tense.

“Uh… is…” He stammered hesitantly. “Is it, yuh know… okay for me to-to hug yuh?” The laughter that escaped me sounded too akin to a sob, and I held him even tighter for it.

“Of course, it’s okay for you to hug me.” I said, voice dropping back into a whisper lest the words break, and some of that crippling weight finally slipped from my shoulders as he readily locked me against him.

“You look at the briefing, yet?” He asked after I finally released him, and I couldn’t help but notice the trace of tension hidden beneath that boisterous excitement.

“Not yet,” I replied, watching him carefully though I tried to keep the hesitation from my voice, “I was planning to read over it tonight. What’s the mission?”

“Just stealin’ files off’a some fancy database, but after I get to blow the whole thing up so they can’t figure out what we took!” There was an overzealousness to his too-quick response, a nervousness that I doubted many others would note, but I knew him, and, when I reached for my datapad to finally look through the message, I wasn’t surprised to hear the way his breath caught slightly in his throat. It took only a brief glance to understand why, and whatever traces of guilt within me went silent beneath my sudden rage.

“Hunter!” I shouted, already storming around Wrecker, blind to the way his face pulled into a barely restrained cringe. Two data ports needed to be spliced simultaneously at opposite sides of a large compound on an isolated world recently lost to Separatist forces. Crosshair was being dropped off on a nearby cliffside to provide cover and report troop movement, while Wrecker would begin placing munitions strategically throughout the facility. Hunter and Tech would infiltrate the northern port, and Echo the southern one nearest Crosshair’s position. Meanwhile, I was meant to remain on the Marauder as “backup”.

“What the kriff is this?!” I snapped. He was just cresting the cockpit ladder as I approached with my datapad clutched in my hand.

“If you’d been at the briefing, you wouldn’t be asking that.” He retorted, arms crossing over his chest as he stared down at me.

“Oh kriff you, Hunter!” I snarled, numb to the hurt I knew I should have felt at the feigned impatience in those eyes. His brow twitched briefly together, but he offered no further response. “You’re leaving Echo practically defenseless!”

“Echo is an arc trooper. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” He replied blankly.

“Not when he’s plugged in!” My words reverberated slightly against the metal walls, and some part of me wanted to feel guilty for how his sensitive hearing surely ached because of it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “The instant he’s connected, his reaction time-”

“Is still better than yours.” He interrupted harshly. My jaw snapped shut, heart pounding against my chest as he began walking toward me, movements slowed beneath a purposeful intent, exhibiting every ounce of the intimidating, elite soldier he’d been painstakingly created to encompass, but my anger, my dread that something would happen, that his benching me might cost his life or the life of one of his brothers forbade me from yielding, from feeling even a whisper of fear as I stared him down.

“Until we figure this out, you’re a liability. I can’t have them distracted out there in the middle of a mission just because you don’t want to feel left out.” He continued, voice sharp, and I wanted to spit at the word ‘they,’ balking at the vain implication that he’d managed to convince any one of us that he was somehow unaffected. “Unless you want to go running off somewhere again, we can try to figure this out after, but we’re set to land in four hours, and I’m not spending that time playing mediator when we need to be focused on not getting killed.”

Later, the silence that fell between us would break me. Later, I would remember the way my hands clenched into fists as I glared at the man before me with an animosity that, just days prior, I would have thought impossible. Later, I would remember that I was to blame for the crippling discordance that so effortlessly brought our unbreakable family to ruin. In that moment, however, I wanted to hurt him for all the ways I was hurting, and I hated myself for it.

“This is a mistake, Hunter.” The words left in a strained growl, teeth clacking as my jaw snapped around his name. “You know that… and it’s going get one of them killed.” His lips tensed with the beginnings of a scowl just as his attention shifted ever so slightly behind him.

I couldn’t hear what was said, but I held no doubt that that was the intent, that one of his brothers had murmured some warning or plea before he could offer whatever justifiably harsh retort lay seething atop his tongue, and I was glad I couldn’t hear them. If it was Crosshair, would I have lashed out against his attempt to protect me? If I’d heard Tech recant some psychological study dismissing my concerns in favor of Hunter’s logic, would I have yelled at him with that same vehemence? Or if Echo… I couldn’t… I couldn’t do this… I couldn’t breathe beneath the sudden certainty that I was alone in that moment… that I had no one to turn to as my thoughts cascaded into a darkness I feared would consume me.

Gaze falling to metal flooring forever stained with oil and grime and far too much blood as my chest tightened into a vise around my heart, I found myself frozen for a mere second longer before turning away from him. He made no effort to stop me. I didn’t think I could have stopped even if he had. I needed to think… no… I needed to run; to hide… I needed to escape the unspoken accusation in his eyes. I needed to escape the nightmare of my own thoughts berating me for each word that fell so thoughtlessly from my lips, the terror that Hunter was right, that I’d turned myself into the deadly distraction I’d so feared becoming all those months back. I needed to escape this faltering reality as the consequences of my own actions threatened to rip my very sense of self from hands I still couldn’t manage to unclench.

It wasn’t until hearing the quiet beep of the medbay’s door denying entry that I even realized I’d locked it behind me, and I instantly knew who stood just beyond that wall of chilled metal. Wrecker would have called out, and I doubted the others were quite ready to speak to me directly yet. I knew it was Crosshair; knew that he stood there waiting to see if I’d yield, but the seconds turned into minutes, and I made no effort to haul myself from where I sat tucked against the corner, fingers tangled into my hair as I merely let myself hurt beneath the weight of everything I’d lost, everything it felt like I was still losing. I heard his fist fall lightly against the door just once before, after a final moment of denial, treading slowly back down the hall.

Look at this adorable FANART!!! - Thank you so much @mythical-illustrator!!

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zapreportsblog · 11 months

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Sukuna’s Godly Husband

�� summary : Yumi (M/n) had originally been offered up to the King of Curses, Sukuna as a sacrificial bride for his people so that they may be spared. In other words he was a lamb waiting to be slaughtered but something unexpectedly happened the King of Curses Sukuna took the human in to his temple and under the engraved stone walls, Yumi (M/n) had been declared the bride of Sukuna, forced to bare his marking on his shoulder and stripped of his human name.

➥ note : Hey so I know it says x reader for this story but it also has the tag Oc in it too, apologies for the sudden change up in the story but I felt as if Sukuna wouldn’t want a weak partner and well having a human name for the dude is literally him seeing you as weak, if you don’t want to read the name Yael please feel free to switch it up in your head and call yourself by any name you want

➥ chapter 4: A Tranquil Reverie

In the depths of the ancient forest, where the shadows danced amidst the towering trees, Sukuna, the formidable king of curses, and his human sacrificial bride, Yael, embarked on a tranquil journey. They wandered through the moss-covered paths, where sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting ethereal patterns upon the verdant ground. The air was thick with the scent of foliage and the gentle hum of nature's symphony.

Yael's steps were light, his heart resonating with a sense of serenity that he had never experienced before. Despite Sukuna's fearsome reputation and his own role as the king of curses' bride, Yael found an unexpected peace in Sukuna's presence. It was as if the forest itself recognized their connection, offering solace and tranquility as they meandered through its ancient embrace.

The duality of Sukuna's nature intrigued Yael. The king of curses, with his indomitable power and fierce aura, was known throughout the realms as a force to be reckoned with. And yet, here in the forest, Sukuna exhibited a calmness that belied his fearsome reputation. It was as if the dense foliage and the whispering leaves whispered secrets only he could comprehend, casting a spell of tranquility upon his being.

As they journeyed deeper into the heart of the forest, Yael found himself captivated by the intricate beauty that unfolded before his eyes. The play of light and shadow created a kaleidoscope of colors, as if nature itself reveled in their presence. The symphony of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves offered a soothing backdrop to their footsteps, blending with the rhythm of their hearts.

In the midst of this harmonious dance, Yael couldn't help but wonder at the enigma that was Sukuna. How had fate brought them together, binding a mere mortal to the king of curses? The answer eluded him, lost in the depths of their shared destiny. Yet, in the tranquility of the forest, the questions faded into insignificance, overshadowed by a profound sense of belonging.

As they traversed the forest trails, Sukuna's presence enveloped Yael in a protective embrace. He felt the subtle currents of power that emanated from the king of curses, an unspoken reassurance that he was not alone. It was a paradoxical comfort—one that Yael had not expected, yet one that whispered of the inexplicable connection between them.

The forest seemed to respond to their presence, embracing them as kindred spirits. The rustling leaves whispered secrets of ages past, while ancient trees stretched their branches as if reaching out to caress them. Even the creatures of the forest seemed to regard them with an uncharacteristic calmness, their gazes filled with a curious blend of respect and awe.

As they walked, Sukuna occasionally turned to Yael, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. There was a deep understanding between them, unspoken and yet palpable. Yael sensed that Sukuna, for all his power and dominance, found solace in his presence—an unlikely sanctuary in the tempestuous sea of his existence.

In the tranquil depths of the forest, Yael and Sukuna found respite from the chaos that surrounded them. The worries and responsibilities that burdened their souls momentarily faded away, replaced by a profound connection—a thread woven through time and space, binding them together in an unbreakable bond.

With each step, Yael discovered a new layer to Sukuna's character—a complexity that defied the boundaries of human understanding. The king of curses, feared by many, possessed a depth of emotion that Yael had never anticipated. It was as if the forest itself had granted Sukuna a rare vulnerability—a momentary respite from the weight of his power.

As their journey through the forest continued, Yael found himself opening up to Sukuna in ways he had never thought possible. Words flowed freely, unencumbered by the confines of their roles as king and bride. In the hushed tranquility of the forest, they spoke of dreams and desires, fears and hopes, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences that defied their differences.

In the gentle rustle of leaves and the caress of a cool breeze, Yael discovered a sense of belonging that transcended the boundaries of mortal existence. The forest had become their sanctuary—a place where their souls could intertwine and their vulnerabilities could be laid bare. Amidst the ancient trees and murmuring brooks, they found solace in each other's presence, each step bringing them closer to the truth of their connection.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the forest, Yael and Sukuna emerged from their tranquil reverie. The forest had given them a momentary respite—a glimpse into the depths of their intertwined destinies. With hearts brimming with newfound understanding, they prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, fortified by the peace they had discovered within the sacred embrace of nature's sanctuary.

Together, they left the forest behind, carrying the tranquility of that sacred place within their souls. The bond between Yael and Sukuna had deepened in the tranquil depths of the forest, forever intertwining their fates. As they ventured forth, guided by the memory of their peaceful stroll, they embraced the uncertainty of their shared destiny, their steps infused with the enduring power of their connection.

#sukuna x reader #x reader series #x reader #sukuna x male reader #x male reader #sukuna’s godly husband series #sukuna godly husband #Sukuna’s Godly Husband masterlist #jujutsu kaisen masterlist

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malarkgirlypop · 7 months

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MEDIC! Part 19 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Ok guys just read this one really quick so I can upload Chapter 20, ok, cool, you got it. Great, alright read fast!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.Keep reading

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (let me know if you want to be tagged.)

I hurried along the streets, saying hello to the men I passed. I finally made it to the house. Hearing familiar voices from the upper room I made my way up the staircase.

“Ah there she is. We were wondering where you disappeared too.” Babe said as I reached the top.

“I’m a busy bee Babe, you should know that.” I sat next to the man, who perched on the edge of the bunk.

“Oh, bunk beds.” I said bouncing up and down on the mattress, it squeaked under me.

“Saved you the lower bunk under me.” Babe told me. I smiled at him, giving his hair a tousle.

“Ah you’re a sweetheart.” He grinned at me. I glanced across the room to see Don standing on the far side looking out the window smoking. A solemn expression visible on his features. I watched him just smoking.

“He’s been like that since we started coming from Rachamps.” Babe whispered to me, I nodded agreeing with him. I don’t know what happened. Was it because he knew I was ok, he finally let himself process. If that was the case I feel awful, they were his friends before I was close with them. I let it cloud my thoughts so much I couldn’t even ensure that he was fine. Now he’s stepping back from me, is that what he wants? I need to talk to him, but I can’t get him alone at the moment, now that he’s a ranking officer it seems like everyone needs to talk to him. I have barely been able to have a moment with him without someone else requesting him. They obviously take priority over me. Babe’s hand landed on my knee giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll find some time.” He says as if he can read my thoughts. I nod, turning my attention back onto the conversation the men are having as they all lie on the bunks. I’m so excited to be able to sleep on a bed with a pillow and sheets. Even if it is some crappy thin mattress, better than the cold hard floor.

“Oh My God! I forgot to say, you’ll never guess what Webster said to me.” I announced to the group. They all waited for me to tell them. “Well firstly he was like, ‘when did nurses work on the front?’ So I corrected him. But then he said, ‘oh yeah I remember you, wow I’m surprised you’re still alive’.” I waited for their response, my mouth open to show my shocked face.

“What?!” Babe said from beside me.

“You’re joking?” Grant asked, I shook my head.

“That cheeky fucker.” Lieb growled.

“I know! I was like excuse me! Rude!” I scoffed while laughing. “I think he’s being put with us.” I also told them, a collective groan echoed around the room. I laughed at their enthusiasm.

“Oh speak of the devil.” I motioned with my head to the door, as Webster and Jones wandered in looking dazed.

“Hey, guys. This taken?” He asked about the top bunk no one had claimed yet.

“Go ahead.” Rameriz told him, lying down on his own bunk. Webster threw his bag onto the bed claiming it for his own.

“Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Jones, just assigned to 2nd platoon.” Webster informed Malarkey. All eyes were on the pair. The men in the corner who were helping themselves to hot drinks and standing around the heater, eyed up the young Lieutenant.

“Malarkey, platoon Sergeant.” Don said.

“Congratulations on the battlefield commission.” Jones said, reaching out his hand to shake Don’s. I watched as Malarkey glanced at the outstretched hand looking confused.

“The what?” Malarkey asked, shaking his hand.

“They’re making you an officer, no?” Jones inquired. Lieb sniggerd into his cup, as Webster turned around to glare at him. Realising too late that Lieb was just fucking with him.

“Me? No.” Malarkey chuckled, looking back to see Grant and Lieb trying to hide their grins. “You must be thinking of First Sergeant Lipton.” Jones and Webster share a glance, clearly Webster had passed on the information that Lieb had given him this morning to the officer, only to be very wrong. Webster gave a defeated shrug and shake of his head.

“My mistake.” Jones apologised to Don. “So you’re without a platoon leader?”

“No, not anymore, Lieutenant.” Don said to the officer.

“Right.” Jones nodded as if he seemingly forgot his rank. “So do you want to introduce me to the men?” He asked. Don gave him a tight smile, he was busy and so were the men.

“Well, some of them are sleeping downstairs. The rest are right here.” Jones glanced around the room looking at the men, who gave him small nods as they made eye-contact. His eyes landed on me, I gave a small smile.

“A female.” He said, looking at me. Don turned around to look at him. “Our medic, Emily.”

“Odd for a female to be on the front.” Jones said without thinking. The chatter ceased in the room, waiting for him to say something else.

“She’s a good medic, we’re lucky to have her.” Don said, sending me a smile. I grinned back appreciative of his defence.

“What? Is it be mean to Emily day?” I whispered to Babe, who just chuckled, shaking his head continuing to read the comic he had picked up. Jones cleared his throat moving on from the awkward conversation he’d started.

“Sergeant, a patrol’s being planned for tonight 0100 hours across the river. Regiment wants POWs for interrogation. What’s the situation?” Jones asked, the men moving their conversation somewhere more private, away from listening ears. The men all looked pissed, they again were being chosen to go on an attack.

“Hey Web. Come here. I just want to talk to you for a sec” Lieb pulled the man from over by the window. Webster seemed rightly suspicious of Lieb’s motives. “Why?” He asked, resisting Lieb’s arm that snaked around his neck trying to drag him elsewhere.

“Come here, You want some coffee.” Lieb offered as he ushered him to the bunks Babe and I sat on.

“No.” Web said, stepping out of the man’s arm.

“Is this kid out of highschool yet?” Lieb asked Webster. They both looked over to the young officer who was speaking with Malarkey.

“He’s out of West Point.” Webster informed the men.

“West Point?” Lieb asked. I have no idea what West Point is.

“Isn’t that where Ike went?” Jackson said from above me, spread out on the top bunk.

Babe, now more invested in the conversation, put down the comic I was reading over his shoulder. Lieb stood right in front of me as he spoke to Webster, I couldn’t see anything past his butt. I leaned more into Babe so that I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated by Joe’s ass.

“Yeah he actually graduated with his son.” Webster confirmed Jackson’s question.

“Shit, so ah… what do you know about this patrol thing?” Lieb’s true motive revealed themselves, his cunning ability to coerce information out of you.

“Uh, nothing.” Webster lied. I laughed, shaking my head. Oh poor sweet Webster you can’t get out of it this easily, not with Lieb you can’t.

“Oh, come on, Web. You gotta know something.” Ramirez adds to the peer pressure.

“I don’t.” Webster turns away fiddling with his bag.

Lieb spits on the ground, I nudge him with my foot, mouthing gross. He just smirks at me.

“Bullshit.” Lieb says. “You were there right? At the CP?” Chuck moves past us heading for the exit.

“Hey, Chuck, Listen to this.” Babe calls to him, he stops to listen. McClung sits beside Babe as we scooch down the bunk to make room.

“Come on, Webster, spill it.” Lieb is persistent with his interrogation. And now with everyone gathered around eager to hear, I’m sure he feels even more pressured. I can see his eyes finally give into it.

“Captain Speirs is to pick 15 men. Lt. Jones wants to be one of them.” Webster casted his gaze to the man who still spoke with Don.

“I say let the kid go. He could use the experience.” Lieb said.

“Probably could find 14 replacements to help him out.” Ramirez grinned.

“Why are you holding out on me? I know you know.” Lieb grilled Webster.

“Just give us the names, Web.” Ramirez and Lieb had him backed into a metaphorical corner.

“Who?” Lieb asked.

Webster glanced around all of us, our eyes trained on him, he had the answers. We waited patiently knowing that Lieb and Ramirez would break him at some point.

“There are three men here in this room that they think should be on the patrol.” Webster started.

“Who?” Ramirez asked, was there a bunch of owls somewhere? I laughed at my own joke. Babe gave me a weird look, wondering why I was chuckling. I’m funny ok! I cleared my throat paying attention again to the conversation.

“Well, if I tell you, you can’t let on that you know.” Webster stalled.

“Your secret’s safe, Web. Who is it?” Lieb promised. I almost laughed again, as if he would keep his mouth shut for Webster. But Webster was gullible enough to believe that Lieb would have his best interests at heart. Webster glanced at Babe sitting next to me. Babe shook his head, he didn’t want to be chosen, he was waiting for his name not to be called. I tensed, I wasn’t particularly keen on any of the men being sent but especially not Babe.

“Yeah, Heffron.” Webster confirmed our fears.

“Aw, shit.” Babe groaned, dragging his hand across his face. I sighed along with Babe who looked disappointed. This time I was the one to give him a pat of reassurance on his leg. McClung, who sat on his other side, threw an arm around his shoulders.

“McClung…” Webster continued, Earl also groaned in annoyance. Babe slapped his leg, in a well-were-in-this-together-now way.

“And you.” Webster said to Ramirez, looking equally as disappointed as the other two.

“He want any other guys from any other platoon?” Lieb asked, looking down into his cup of coffee.

“No, no. I don’t know. Not that I know of. Look, that’s all I know, I’m sorry.” Webster rambled on, trying to prove to Lieb he didn’t have any more information for him to draw out.

I almost leaped off the bed when Don yelled, “Listen up!” I grabbed onto Babe's arm out of instinct. Covering my heart with my other hand, to stop it jumping out of my chest.

“Got some bad news. There is a patrol set for tonight. And so far, Speirs wants McClung–” Don told the room. But was interrupted.

“We know.” McClung told Don.

“Yeah, we just fucking heard. Webster here told us.” Babe blabbed, so much for keeping it a secret. But Babe and Earl never made any promises to the man, only Lieb.

Don answers the ringing phone, mumbling into it. He hangs up quickly, having more information to give us. “The PX rations just came in, including winter shoe packs.” Don informs us.

“Beautiful.” Ramirez says sarcastically.

“Yeah, finally right?” Don agrees.

“Good of ‘em, now we’re in a nice warm house.” Lieb adds.

“Also we get showers.” Don tells us. I gasp so loudly everyone stares at me. Pure delightment on my face.

“We get showers!” I say excitedly. I feel like I can bounce off the walls. A shower sounds amazing. I make quiet screaming noises. I feel like a kid on christmas. Everyone watches me have my mini celebration. I stop mid party, “Sorry, I’m just really excited to have a shower.”

“Yeah, no we can tell.” Lieb laughs at me, patting me on the head.

“You’re so cute!” Babe teases trying to pinch my cheeks, I fend him off. Before he can reach me the distant sounds of explosions boom through the room. The sounds of whistling are closer, the sound of a bomb being dropped in close proximity.

“All right, let's move! Clear it out! Move, move!” Don yells over the noise. We get to our feet, rushing out of the top room into the lower floors. Babe is behind me pushing me down the stairs faster than my feet can take me. We barge into the basement taking cover. Everyone yelling at everyone to get down, take cover, incoming. The bombs stop right as we reach the room. I laugh in disbelief of course it would stop right as we are safe. Everyone else had the same reaction, well except for Jones and Webster. They both looked like they were about to faint from shock.

“Showers let’s go!” Don ushered us out. I was quickly on my feet, yes showers, omg I want to wash my hair, and body. Omg maybe shave my legs with running water.

#guys just read it real fast #or don't maybe just pretend you did #the next couple of chapter are fun again #not just fillers #I know their good cause i cried while writing #which normally means they aren't boring #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #donald malarkey #hbo war #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #joe toye #bill guarnere #dick winters #emarkey #emily lane

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mummybear · 5 months

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My Brother's Best Friend - Chapter 5 - Unwelcome Visitor

Words : 3831

Warnings: Swearing, Grief, Angst, Anniversary Of A Death, Talk Of Virginity, Degrading Talk And Threats, Protective Stiles And Scott. Think that's it.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Reader/Sadie McCall, James(OC), Mystery Person! Find out in the next chapter ;)

A/N: So sorry about the wait once again guys! Really hope you like this chapter! Let me know what you think and feel free to ask for a tag if you would be interested! :D

Chapter 5 - Unwelcome Visitor

Stiles doesn’t even try to stop you when you leave your room, and you have to force yourself not to look back. You hold back the urge to ask if he’s coming. Whatever his reasoning, you need to get out. If he’s acting this way because he needs space, then he can have it. Nothing else matters today, you have somewhere more important to be. You can’t let yourself get distracted by anything else.

Today is the anniversary of Callie’s death. You’d promised yourself that every year on the day of her death you would go to her grave, to take her flowers and tell her about what was going on in town and in your life. After all, you’d made sure to be with her for every birthday celebration when she was alive, why should the anniversary of her death be any different.

Last night you’d planned to tell Stiles about your scheduled visit after breakfast, but right now, with everything going on between the two of you, the distance could be good for you both. Besides, food is the furthest thing from your mind. As you enter the kitchen the entire room falls silent, and you can feel the ball of nerves that sits at your throat, like a heavy weight that never leaves. Wringing your hands together, you take one look at the plate of food on the table and sickness sweeps through your stomach.

You feel someone take hold of your arm and you turn to face your mom. She gives you that all knowing look, that she gives better than anyone. She pulls you over to one side, as far away from the others in the room as possible.

"What happened? This isn't just Callie, is it?" She whispers, more than aware of just how many beings with super hearing are around.

Swallowing thickly you feel the tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

"Can we do this later? I promise, I won’t bail, I just need to get out of this house, I need to get some air.”

Sighing deeply she shakes her head gently. You can easily see the worry in her gaze and the guilt of making her worry causes you to hesitate a little.

“It’s okay. If that’s what you need to do right now, sweetheart, then just be safe. Call Scott or me if you need to speak to someone. Just don’t shut us out, okay?”

She pulls you into a tight hug and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Never, I swear. I’ll be back later, okay?”

You can’t face anyone else, so with a final goodbye to your mom you head out. Maybe the others knew not to even try to talk to you, since nobody even tries to stop your escape. You inhale deeply as the fresh morning air hits you in the face, you put on your headphones and select the playlist that you’d updated earlier in the week. Slowly you make your way to the cemetery, trying to ignore the thoughts which want to invade your mind. It’s a peaceful morning, where only a select few people wander the streets. A lone tear rolls down your cheek as you step through the entrance of the cemetery, and you make no move to wipe it away as you slowly make your way to Callie’s grave.

You smile softly when you see her grave coming into view. There are clear signs that people have been here recently, probably her parents, maybe even her grandma.

You sink to your knees right in front of the headstone, gently brushing away the fallen petals of the flowers which have been left behind. You carefully pick up one of the photos that’s leaning against the gravestone.

The tears come thick and fast, because it’s a photo of the two of you. One of the last ones you’d taken before her death, and your heart breaks all over again.

“Hey Cal, here we are. I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” you sigh softly, looking up at the sky briefly, before you allow yourself to look back at the headstone.

“So much has changed since… you’ve been gone. Especially in the last few days. Honestly it’s been kind of crazy. I guess I’m still not one hundred percent sure that I didn’t dream… well… all of it,” you chuckle to yourself as you wipe your eyes on your sleeve. “I need you now more than ever, God, I need you.” You let out a shuddered breath before continuing.

“That’s selfish, I know. I just miss you, so much. I miss your smile, your laugh, your advice and constant support. Nobody ever did get me the way you do… did, not sure they ever will again. I can practically hear your voice every time something big happens to me,” smiling at the thought you place the photo back against the headstone. “Things have definitely escalated with Stiles, to say the least. Beyond anything we ever talked about. I still can’t wrap my mind around it all.”

Remembering your other best friend, another wave of grief hits you.

“Josh still talks about you, all the time. He’s just full of regret, Callie. I know you probably don’t want to hear that, I’m sorry. But we both are, though his reasons are a little different to mine. I know you would lose your mind with what I’m about to tell you, if you were here.”

You smile fondly, thinking of her crush on Josh. “He wishes he’d told you about his feelings for you. Before that awful day that turned everyone's lives upside down. Before everything went wrong…. and you were taken from us. He loves you so much, I’m not sure he knows how to cope with the situation.”

Tears roll down your cheeks once again, showing no sign of stopping, as you wipe your arm across your face. Doing your best to focus on her name written in stone right in front of you, though it’s blurred with your tears.

“We both wish we’d been there to save you, to help, hell, to do something. I’m so sorry, Callie. I should have saved you…. somehow.” You whisper hoarsely, feeling the unbearable ache in your chest.

Pulling the letter from your pocket just like you have on every visit, you place it under the flower pot, in the small hole you’d made. Knowing that Callie’s parents likely read these letters every time they visited. You’d made no secret that you’d been leaving them there, and every time you returned the previous letter had been taken away. The amount you came to see her might seem strange to some people, but you couldn’t help it, maybe that would dwindle a little with time, though right now it felt like the right thing to do.

A shiver wracks your body as a gust of frosty wind blows through the cemetery, the bushes around you rustling. You wrap your arms around yourself, resting your head on your bent knees.

“I swear this gets harder every time I come here, Cal.”

You stiffen, feeling a presence behind you, without needing to turn around or even lift your head, you let out an irritated sigh.

“You of all people shouldn’t be here, especially not today. Not around me.”

“You still owe me. It’s been a year, grow a set, Love.”

Fury fills your every thought as you lift your head and quickly get to your feet, turning to face him.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’ve got some nerve, you son of a bitch!”

“You’re still hot when you’re angry, princess. But don’t sass me, and leave my mother out of it would you. You know what I want. I’m here to collect.” He grins at you with those stupid white teeth, and you remember just how dangerous this man is. You’d fallen for his charms when he’d promised to protect Callie, if you went out on a date with him. He’d obviously been full of shit, since she was dead. He had seemed like the only option at the time. Scott was busy with the pack, and you hadn’t wanted to bother him over something that might have been all in your imagination. Something which you’d regretted to this day.

“Excuse me?! Collect on what, exactly? You promised me you would protect my best friend, which you clearly didn’t do! Since I’m sitting here at her graveside. So get fucked, James. We haven’t had anything to talk about, not for a long time.”

He’d lured you into a false sense of security when you’d first met. You were lonely, obsessed with your brother’s best friend, who’d never looked at you twice. Then this hot werewolf came along, promising you he wanted to be there for you, that he only wanted to help. You’d been an idiot to fall for it, but he was hot, charming, confident and seemingly capable. You would never fall for his shit again. However, he was dangerous, so you needed to tread carefully. At least that was what the smart part of your brain told you, unfortunately, you weren’t listening to that part, you were hurt, upset and consumed with thoughts of Callie. Not to mention your earlier interaction with Stiles.

“Stay the fuck away from me you scumbag,” you all but growl, your fists clenched at your sides.

James turning up out of nowhere after such a long time, and here of all places had your common sense at breaking point.

However, before you can act you’re pressed against a tree with his big hand wrapped around your throat.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, you ungreatful little bitch?!” he snarls, his face impossibly close to your own.

“You’re kidding me right! She’s dead! You didn’t do shit, James. There is no deal! What exactly should I be grateful for?” You grit out, trying to ignore the pain in your throat when his grip tightens.

He leans in closer, running his nose along the side of your neck inhaling deeply.

“Still just as pure as last time, in all the ways that matter to me anyway.” He chuckles deeply, as he pins your arms above your head with his free hand.

You shiver in disgust as he licks up the side of your neck with a groan, “get the fuck off of me.”

Suddenly he stiffens against you and you jolt in his grip as he rips your t-shirt down to reveal the rest of your neck and collarbone, and you immediately know what he’s seen.

“Who’s fucking touched you. You were supposed to be mine, you whore.”

Before you can even think of a reply a deep rumbling growl fills the graveyard, and you shiver involuntarily in his hold and a whimper slips past your lips. That growl is quickly followed by a few others, but the ground shaking roar fills you with relief.

James tosses you aside and turns to face the pack of wolves who are quickly advancing on you both. Your eyes fix on your brother immediately, the tension and fury coming off of him is palpable. You force yourself to climb to your feet, but you don’t dare to go around James. You know how quick his reflexes are.

So instead you try to focus somewhere else to calm your nerves, but as much as you try to avoid Stiles’ gaze, it’s like a magnet pulling you in, and when your eyes lock his eyes begin to glow purple. You hadn’t noticed that James had edged closer to you until it was too late, and his hand was wrapped in your hair tightly.

“Let her go.” Scott demands as you’re forced to your knees. Scott’s eyes begin to glow red with the power of the Alpha that flows through him.

To James’ credit he does well to hide his flinch, but not well enough judging by the looks on the packs’ faces. Everyone except Stiles, who is now standing at Scott’s side, still focused on you. Scott reaches out just in time to stop Stiles from taking another step towards you.

“What’s it to you? You’re the true Alpha, right? So go find your own bitches to play with. This one is all mine, and she needs to be taught a lesson about what happens when she disobeys me.”

Scott’s smirk is dangerous as he takes a step forward, and you can’t help but wince as James’ grip tightens in your hair.

“Even if I ignore the fact that there’s a woman being held by you, who clearly has no interest. I can’t exactly ignore the fact that she’s my twin sister, and she’s in trouble. So, here’s how this is going to go, you can either let her go right now, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

James remains silent as he stares back at Scott, you try to pull your head away as he lowers his mouth to your ear, “you can go for now. Just know, I will find you again, when nobody is around to save your ass. When you’re all alone again, I’ll finally take what you owe me.” The threat is as clear as the anger in his voice, he throws you forward with so much force you land at Scott’s feet.

Scott reaches for you to help you up, but sudden movement has you distracted as you watch Stiles walk forward.

“You so much as speak about Sadie like that again, and I will fucking hunt you down and rip your throat out. You touch her again and you’ll damn well pay for it. You want someone to blame for the marks on her, you’re looking at him.”

“It was you?!” James spits as he squares up once again, and Stiles just smirks at him.

“Stiles, don’t.” You rasp, stepping in front of him and resting your hands on his chest, until he looks down at you.

His eyes drop to your neck, probably seeing the marks from James’ hands on your skin. His fingers gently touch the skin as his eyes move back to yours.

“Stiles, get her out of here.” Scott demands as the rest of the pack move in behind him, pushing you and Stiles to the back of the group.

Swallowing hard, Stiles moves his eyes away from your neck and to your surprise he takes your hand, gently tugging you along with him, until you start to follow on your own. You’re surprised, but extremely glad that he actually listened to Scott for once without argument.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks hoarsely, as his fingers tighten over yours, he instinctively pulls you closer to his body.

Things still feel a little awkward and strained between the two of you. However, there’s no denying that you feel yourself relaxing now that you’re close again. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop your feelings from this morning, resurfacing.

“Yeah, I’m fine Stiles. Thanks for coming for me,” you sigh softly, looking around the forest as you continue to walk away. The sounds of anyone else, all that noise it just disappears, until it’s just the two of you.

“Of course we came for you,” he sighs in reply, and you drop his hand now you know nobody is watching, and wrap your arms around yourself. Unfortunately the feelings from this morning return completely as do his words, repeating on a loop in your mind.

You scoff, unable to help yourself. You move quickly, coming to a stop causing Stiles to follow suit. Allowing you to walk in front of him, so that you’re face to face.

“Why, because I’m Scott’s little sister? Because I’m your responsibility now? Let me save you the trouble Stiles, you’re under no obligation to save me! I was fine before you decided that I was worth your time, and I’ll be just fine after you leave!” You all but scream at him, feeling the anger surging through your body. Somewhere deep inside you know you’re angry at him, furious even, but there’s a very small part of you that feels as though not all of this anger is being aimed in the right direction, but it’s like you just can’t control yourself.

Stiles looks taken aback for a moment, though you can see that your words have hit their target, and hit hard by the look of hurt that crosses his face. Although he also looks worried, he still steps closer, and you clench your fists at your sides as he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry, Sadie. I was such a fucking idiot this morning, you caught me off guard, and as usual my stupid mouth said shit I hadn’t even processed yet. What I should have said was that I was scared to tell you, of all people, what had happened to me. I was worried you’d see me differently, stop giving me shit, and I couldn’t lose that look you give me when nobody was watching us.” You feel your anger beginning to calm as he rests his forehead on your own.

“I should’ve told you that I was too chicken shit to make a move before all of this happened, that I’ve never been happier to have almost died. And now that I know how good we are together, I can’t imagine being away from you. I should’ve told you that although it’s only been a day and a half, everything with us feels beyond right,” he takes your hand and rests it over his heart, you let your fist unclench as he lifts his eyes to yours, you feel a tear slide down your cheek. “You calm this beast inside me… well in all the ways that matter at least.” He smirks at you and you feel a smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, I suppose that is a much better answer. You always ramble when you get nervous.” You agree with a smile wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer as he buries his nose in your neck, inhaling deeply.

You wince when his fingers brush the bruises forming on your throat, and you feel the growl in his throat before you even hear it.

“He wont fucking get away with this, Sadie. I promise you. If Scott doesn’t make him pay, I will. Nobody should lay their fucking filthy hands on you.”

Trying to lighten the mood a little, you tip his chin so your eyes meet. Doing your best to take the attention away from the thing that’s making his mood sour.

“Well, everyone except you, of course.”

The purple flares in his eyes as he backs you up against the closest tree. You can’t stop the whimper from slipping past your lips as his body presses in tightly against your own.

“Was that an invitation?” he asks gently, tugging your head back by your hair, so that he can press soft kisses to your throat, masking the other man's scent on your body the best way he knows how.

The kisses come to a stop just as fast as they’d started as Stiles pulls away to look you in the eye.

“Why did you stop!? It was definitely an invitation,” you pout at him, trying to pull off your sulkiest look.

He groans in regret, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “look, I need to say this before I lose the nerve, as much as I hate to admit it, not everything you said this morning can be talked away between the two of us this quickly.”

Swallowing thickly you meet his eyes, “what do you mean?”

He looks unsure of himself as he runs a hand through his hair, settling on scratching the back of his neck.

“We do need to go see Deaton. Sooner rather than later, you do need your options as much as it kills me that this might come back to haunt me. But we also need to find out what else he knows.”

“I was upset, Stiles. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know you were, with good reason. Sadie this isn’t some kind of trick, I just want you to have all of your options. If we keep going, you know, with this thing between us. Then I think we need to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into, and honestly, I really need to know what the hell is going on with me.” Stiles tells you nervously but with so much passion you’re no longer able to argue.

You sigh sadly before wrapping your arms around his neck again.

“I know you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“Trust me, I want to slap myself right now.” Stiles sighs, sitting down leaning back against the tree.

You smile and carefully straddle his body, gently sitting down in his lap.

“Okay, so say I agree to go. Will you tell me how long you noticed me watching you?”

You giggle as that playful expression crosses his face and he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close.

“You weren’t exactly subtle, Minx.”

“So how long?” you whisper against his lips.

“A few years. I liked it, you’re so beautiful, so smart, like my forbidden little secret,” he murmurs quietly, softly brushing the hair back from your face.

“You should know it was much longer, I had so much planned for you. Still do.”

“Come on, don’t do this to me, not now. I’ve always loved that bad girl sparkle in your eyes.”

You can’t help but grin, and the thick bulge you’re now sitting on is only putting a strain on your self control.

“And you never thought about making a move?”

Stiles bites his bottom lip as his grip tightens around you.

“Oh, trust me. I thought about it regularly. Things have changed though, I won’t fuck you, or make love to you or mark you, not until we know everything. Then as soon as we do and you make a decision. If you choose me, I promise you, a pack of wolves couldn’t stop me from taking and marking what’s mine.”

You moan at his words just before his lips crash against yours, you get lost in the passion as you grind your hips against his, the two of you holding onto each other like the world is going to end. Suddenly Stiles pulls away and his hands grip your hips halting your movements.

“What is it?” you whisper sensing his distress.

“Someone’s coming, trust me and stay close,” He whispers in reply, carefully getting to his feet, he pushes you behind him.

“No matter what happens just promise you’ll stay behind me.” He sniffs the air and his body stiffens under your hands.

“Oh, Mischief,” a haunting voice calls and a shiver races up your spine, you know that voice.

Tags:

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#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #my brother's best friend #chapter 5 #teenwolf #stiles teen wolf #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you

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rebelwrites · 1 month

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Twenty Five: The Weight Of The World

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

I’m sorry for this 😭😭😭

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

The past twenty four hours had been utter hell, not only was jet lag kicking my ass I also had the club asking me three million questions. I wanted to sleep but my body was refusing, every time I closed my eyes my mind would start racing again, nothing could quiet the voice inside my head.

The only positive thing was Jax woke up.

Slumping down on the outdoor sofa I pulled the blanket over my tired body, placing a cigarette between my lips. I unlocked my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found Charles' name. I needed him here with me but right now I would have to settle for his voice.

After a few rings he picked up.

“Hey Char,” I sighed, taking a long drag of the smoke.

“How you holding up Sunshine?”

“J'ai été meilleur, j'aimerais que tu sois là maintenant. I've been better, I wish you were here now,” I whispered, blinking back tears, “but at least Jax is awake.”

“You sound shattered, have you had any sleep since you got home?” he asked, I knew he would be worrying about me.

“Not really, I have tried but no matter how hard I try my body is fighting it,” I sighed, keeping my gaze focused on the sunrise. “I don’t think I will sleep properly until Jax gets out of hospital to be honest.”

Before Charles could respond the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, luckily I had the backdoor open meaning I heard it. “You have got to be kidding me, who the hell is at the front door at 5am.” I exclaimed, kicking the blanket off my body.

“Maybe it’s Chibs?” Charles questioned.

“Nah, he has a key he’d let himself in but he would let me know he was coming.” I started, tossing the cigarette butt into the metal bucket by the door. “Whoever it is better pray they haven’t just woken Elenor or Pops up otherwise there will be hell to play.” The sound of my boyfriend laughing down the phone caused me to raise an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. “What is so funny?” I asked, as I walked through the house without turning any of the lights on.

“You are just too cute, that's all,” he chuckled.

“Well, I won’t be cute when I brutally pull the limbs off the person who is at my door before the sun has fully risen.” I coldly said as I reached the front door.

It took me a few minutes to get all the chains and locks off the door, one of the many things we had to do to keep Pops safe when he started wandering around the house in the middle of the night.

The moment I forcefully yanked the front door open I felt my jaw hit the floor seeing Charles standing there, phone pressed to his ear and back pack thrown over his shoulder with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Do I get to keep my limbs?” he laughed, ending the call and tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Vous êtes un trou du cul, Charles Leclerc. You're an asshole, Charles Leclerc.” I breathed, shaking my head at the dork who was currently occupying the front porch.

“Oui, mais tu m'aimes. Yes, but you love me,” he smirked, stepping forward to close the gap between us, pulling me into his arms. The sound of his steady heartbeat was what I needed to calm the voices in my mind.

“I can’t believe you are here,” I whispered, refusing to let go of him.

“I wasn’t going to abandon my girl when she needed me the most,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, before guiding me back into the house. “I can only stay for a couple of days though.”

“That’s better than you not being here at all I guess,” I breathed, nuzzling my face further into his hoodie, letting the smell of his aftershave wash over me.

For a few moments the world felt right again.

“Uncle Charlie?” Elenor whispered from the top of the stairs causing me to pull away from Charles.

“What are you doing awake, my little bear?” Charles asked, dropping his backpack by the shoe rack as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

“The doorbell woke me up, I thought it was daddy,” she admitted, causing my heart to ache.

“Oh baby,” I said softly, trying to hold back tears once again, “Daddy will have to stay with the Doctors for a little bit longer.” The hardest part of this situation was trying to explain it to Elenor in a way that didn’t traumatize her. “But I promise we can go and see him later.”

After a long week and a half, today was the day Jax was finally allowed home, my emotions were all over the place. I was so happy my brother was being released but also extremely stressed because of the care Jax would need during his recovery.

“Nova, you really need to sleep,” Pascale said, passing me a large cup of coffee and a plate of pancakes. She had been a life saver over the last few weeks, I honestly don’t think I would have coped without her. From the moment we got back to my family home her motherly instincts kicked in, although I don’t think this woman would ever lose them, it was just in her nature, she made sure we ate, had freshly washed clothes and the house was clean.

Elenor loved her and was constantly asking her questions about her son which she found highly amusing and I couldn’t complain, I loved hearing about Charles.

However I think the saving grace with Pascale living with us was how she was with Pops, they got on like a house on fire which made things a lot easier. Especially since Pops’ health had taken a turn for the worse, he was starting to wander the house more during the middle of the night, he was getting angry at every little thing and he was forgetting things we told him pretty much instantly.

“Maman, thank you,” I whispered, flashing her a weak smile, “for everything.”

“Sweetie, you do not need to thank me,” she hummed.

“But you have done so much for my family and you hardly know us.”

“You mean a lot to my son, I have never seen him this happy and I know if he could he would be here, so it is the least I can do.”

Glancing over her shoulder I realized I was late leaving. “Shit, I should have left ten minutes ago,” I sighed, downing the mug of coffee not caring if it burned me. “I will eat these later, I need to get to the hospital.”

The drive back from the hospital was only short but in the space of the last ten minutes Jax had gotten on every one of my last nerves. I was moments away from kicking him outta the car letting him hobble on his crutches the rest of the way home.

“I swear to god, did the nurses give you extra medication to make you ten times more frustrating than normal?” I huffed, turning onto our street.

“What happened to the sweet loving sister, did you leave her back in the hospital?” He shot back, placing a cigarette between his lips.

“I killed her,” I shrugged, clenching my teeth. I knew the recovery period was going to be a tough one and I had a feeling he was going to try and milk the situation, everyone waiting on him hand and foot.

“Who shat on your bike this morning?”

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I pulled my battered truck onto the drive next to the bright red Ferrari Purosangue Charles had left, the sight of it made me miss him even more, my heart was calling out for him every day and if I was being honest I was struggling with the distance. The time difference was making things extremely difficult, meaning we were communicating through voicemails and texts.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, running my hands over my face before taking the half smoked cigarette from him, taking a long drag. “I feel like the weight of the world is crushing me into the ground.”

“Squirt, is the club not pulling their weight?” Jax asked, voice full of concern.

“Yeah they are,” I breathed, taking another pull on the smoke, “I dunno, I’m trying to keep everything together but the stress is killing me And to top it all off I miss Char so fucking much.” I could feel the tears starting to burn my eyes, I promised myself I wasn’t going to break down today, everyone was so excited Jax was coming home, especially Elenor.

Jax reached over, taking my hand in his, the look of guilt was written all over his face and I hated it. I still didn’t know the reason why he rode his bike completely wasted, every time I tried to bring it up Jax completely shut down.

The next couple of hours everything was crazy, Elenor hadn’t left her father’s side which made things slightly awkward getting Jax settled back in. Chibs and Nero had done an amazing job in turning Elenor’s play room into a makeshift bedroom for Jax, I knew everyone would want to come and see Jax but I had put my foot down, for the first night I just wanted it to be, me, Jax, Elenor, Pops and Pascale.

Feeling my phone buzz in my back pocket, I flashed Jax a weak smile leaving him cuddled on the sofa with his little girl before making my way outside.

My heart fluttered seeing Charles’ name pop up on my screen, my fingers darted across the screen instantly accepting the call.

“Est-ce que c'est le bon moment, bébé ? Is this a good time, baby?” he asked, his voice was raspy like he had just woken up, but he more than likely had with it being around 6am in Singapore.

“Oui, mon Dieu, ta voix m'a manqué. Yes, my God, I missed your voice,” I breathed, trying to hold back the tears. I had never felt this much emotion hearing someone’s voice before. “I wish you were here with me?”

“Oh Sunshine, I would do anything to be able to hold you in my arms right now, we only have a couple more weeks to get through before I can come to Cali, spending some much needed time with my girls before COTA,” he sighed, pausing a second before speaking again. “Swap onto facetime, I need to see your beautiful face.” A small smile graced my face as I followed his instructions, the moment his face popped up on the screen I couldn’t hold the tears back. “Please don’t cry, I hate seeing you like this.”

Leaning against the back of the sofa, I ran a hand over my cheeks, “Maman has been a life saver,” I whispered, changing the subject.

“I’m glad she is there for you,” he smiled, adjusting his position in bed, giving me more of a view of his bare torso that was only covered by a thin sheet. “How’s Jax doing?”

“More annoying than normal,” I half laughed, my face instantly dropping the moment I heard my name being shouted from inside the house. “God, can’t I just have half an hour to myself,” I growled in frustration. “Baby, I hate to cut this so short, but I’ve gotta go, I’m sorry.”

“Bébé, tu n'as aucune raison de t'excuser, va t'occuper de ta famille et appelle-moi quand tu pourras. Baby, you have nothing to apologize for, go take care of your family and call me when you can.” he whispered, blowing me a kiss.

The last five days had been utter chaos, ever since Jax had come home from the hospital the front door had basically turned into a revolving door, there was always a member or two of the club hanging about.

All the boys wanted to check in on their president and brother.

The house had basically become the new club house, meaning Jax could still take control of everything from his bed, no matter what time of the day it was I could always guarantee there would be at least four Harleys parked on the driveway.

Pops was really struggling with the dramatic change to his environment, the hustle and bustle caused him to lock himself in his bedroom most days making things a lot harder on me, especially since the front door was never locked, I was constantly worried something was going to happen to him when he started wandering about in the middle of the night.

My body was screaming at me to get a good night's rest but with keeping on top of Jax’s medication schedule and making sure Pops was safe, it was proving difficult to get more than a couple of hours. I found myself setting up camp on the living room sofa so I was in between Jax and Pops. The sofa was playing havoc with my back and to top everything off me and Charles hadn’t spoken properly for a couple of days.

As Pascale walked into the living room a heavy sigh left her lips, she could see how hard everything was for Nova, no matter how much help she tried to provide to the young girl it didn’t seem to be doing much to lighten the load. JT’s health was getting worse, over the last week he had at least two outbursts every day.

Armed with a fresh pot of coffee she made her way over to Nova only to find the poor girl passed out on the sofa, her phone still unlocked in her hand. Pascale wasn’t one for prying but she couldn’t help but get a glimpse of the conversation Nova had been having with her son.

Char I am fucking struggling

I feel like I am slipping further into the darkness

I just wish you were here with me, the voices are getting loud in my head again

GOD WHY IS THIS SO FUCKING HARD

Her heart broke for Nova, this wasn’t the same girl she met back in Monza. Placing the phone and mug on the small side table she grabbed the blanket off the back of the sofa, slowly covering Nova up before placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

She knew this wasn’t her house but she wasn’t going to let Nova be the next one in hospital, for the first time since Jax had come home there were no members of the club hanging around and Pascale knew this was her only shot, taking a deep breathe she quickly went to check on Jax, who was sound asleep with his daughter snuggled in his arms.

A small smile tugged at her lips seeing the pair of them together, it was clear Jax loved his daughter to bits and she looked up to her father, and she found her mind drifting to thoughts of how Charles would be with a daughter of his own.

Pushing the thoughts aside she exited the room, softly closing the door behind her before making her way to the main entrance of the house, she didn’t know what repercussions her next action would have but right now she didn’t care, all she was focused on was the girl that had stole her son’s heart. Pascale had made a promise to Charles to make sure Nova got enough sleep and she ate and so far she was failing at both things.

Taking a deep breath she locked the front door, making sure the chains were on as she knew some of the members had keys. Once she was satisfied she made her way to the back door doing the same thing.

The sudden sound of movement coming from upstairs quickly peaked her attention, within a matter of minutes she was now on the landing trying to figure out where JT had gone. Over the last day she had noticed how weak he was getting, so she was doing everything she could to get JT back to full health but it was a battle she realized she was quickly losing.

He looked like he was giving up, his body was losing all of its fight and it was only a matter of time before he slipped away peacefully, she hated how there was nothing she could do to fix this situation for Nova and Jax.

“John?” Pascale softly called out.

She was met with silence which caused her to panic.

Slowly she pushed open the door to JT’s room, her heart shattering in the process, the man lying in the bed wasn’t the same person who welcomed her into his home with open arms, instead laid a frail old man who looked like he was on his deathbed.

“Pascale,” he whispered, “I’m afraid I don’t have much time left.”

“JT, don’t say things like that,” she said softly, moving across the room to perch on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in hers. “You have a lot of years left in you, you gotta keep fighting, you need to stick around to see your baby girl get married and have a family of her own.” She could feel herself welling up as she spoke.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I do, my body is giving up on me,” he sighed, “I got to see my sweet angel truly happy, which is all thanks to your son and that is enough for me, I know she is safe in his arms, he will cherish her and treat her like a queen.”

The smile on his face told Pascale he was hiding something.

“What do you know?” she questioned raising her brow at him.

“You can’t tell Nova, but I had a call with Charles today during free practice,” he beamed, as if he was reliving the day. “In all the time I have known that boy I have never known him so nervous.”

“We can’t be talking about the same boy here John,” she chuckled softly, before pausing as the realization hit her, there would be only one reason her son would call JT and be so nervous about it. Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to blink back tears. “Did he?”

“Ask for my blessing to marry my daughter?” he grinned, pausing for a brief moment as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “He sure did, and my only question was why had he waited this long to ask, those two are destined to be together. I knew that the moment they laid eyes on each other.”

Pascale couldn’t believe the words she was hearing, this was the best frame of mind JT had been in all week and judging by the size of the grin on his face he wasn’t getting confused on what was reality or not.

“See, you have to stick around to walk her down the aisle.”

“I have made my peace with this Pascale,” he whispered, squeezing her hand softly. “Thank you for being here for my family, I honestly don’t know if they would have gotten through this without you. Now can you do me a favor and bring my children and granddaughter up here,” he paused, his voice cracking on him as he spoke the next five words.

“It’s time to say goodbye.”

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