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scudslut · 2 months

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too sweet

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni

a/n: okay, is this like the song? IDK i listened to it on repeat tryna decipher shit and come up with a good plot but i think i got a little lost in the sauce, or maybe im just being mean to myself🫢 ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON BYEEE🤍

you two never got along, never saw eye to eye.

years you’d known each other and all it ever did was reveal those differences all the more. highlighting them in bold letters for you to gaze at thoughtfully, but did that stop you?

it was a game you played, back and forth for so long that it became a routine. bicker and disagree till you were blue in the face and at each other's mercy for only the moon to bear witness too.

how many times had you dug into him for his habits. he smoked, kept to himself, he fought, but where had that ever gotten him? it was against your nature. a way of being that you genuinely could not understand.

and he’d be right there with you, matching each dig with his own. you were sweet, too soft. you pleased and walked among ice like you weighed as much as a feather, so predictable it was almost humorous. if you didn’t understand him, he was absolutely riddled by you.

“how do ya sleep at night? huh? don’ya ever get tired of keeping everyone so fuckin happy?” he’d mutter, all the while tearing articles of clothing off of your supple skin, one by one. skin that was pristine by default and worn as if only heaven itself had touched it.

“believe it or not, i actually want people to like me daryl. i like when i can make people happy. it’s not a fucking act,” you sneer back.

who was he to talk? he lived inside his own head. could go days… no, months by himself, not muttering a single word to a breathing soul. and you’d tried to reason, guide, and help, but if anyone knew daryl dixon, they knew he didn’t budge easily. he had to want it for himself and he simply didn’t see the glory in your people-pleasing nature, as he’d like to call it.

sure he saw the value in it, somewhat. but he liked things the way they were, as they were meant to be. if he disagreed with something he sure as shit wasn’t gonna prance around trying not to hurt no feelings.

“alright, you keep tellin’ yerself that, princess.”

so what was it that kept you two coming back for more? why was the tension and aversion between your minds so magnetic between your bodies? he wanted to snap those annoying, pretty lips shut with his. maybe if he kissed you hard enough something would click in that head of yours. maybe he could fuck some clarity into you.

his fingers would rub fast circles over your clit, watching you keen and moan into the pillow beneath you, “how’s that princess? good enough for ya? hm?” he’d mock, “faster? slower?”

“god, would you shut up already?” you tried to sneer only for it to come out as a breathy whine, adding fuel to his pride and smirk across his face. your lips crashed into his in an attempt to diminish it but it was right there, now pressed up against your face, and fuck, why was that so hot? why was his rugged stubble, his long hair kissing your shoulders, and his broad, strong body so infuriatingly sexy to you? muscles built from years of fights, kills, and hunting. you didn’t like it… but you did.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you cried to him softy.

“nuh, uh. not yet pretty girl.”

his belt was loud throughout the quiet room. your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure but you heard the familiar clanks and zips, and then you felt his weight above you — warm and spicy. it pulled you so far and close that you sucked him in before he even got his pants all the way off.

“fuckin’ christ girl,” he groaned, snapping down to meet your hips flush. it was rapid and hot, both of you pouring all your frustrations into each push and pull. frustrations with each other, frustrations with yourselves that you liked this so fucking much.

he fucked you deep and hard like his body hated you, but somehow kissed you so tenderly through it all. his tongue massaging and tangling with yours as if you created his oxygen for him.

“so fucking sweet, princess, y’know that?” he whispered against you, “no good fer me.”

he was telling himself that; convincing himself and you knew it. your body rolled to meet his quickly, feeling every gooey, warm muscle against your skin and drooling over it, “more.”

as if to prove a point he slowed down, pulling out till just his tip was caught at your entrance, and then would thrust in, hard. over, and over, and over until you were singing his name and muffling it with his neck. warm and spicy.

“ya like that? thought ya wanted faster?”

he knew he was walking a line, but what had you guys ever been but a definitive line? a clear distinction of night and day, the only time ever seeing eye to eye being these moments. as one.

you were sent over the edge instantly, spasms of pleasure rolling languidly through your body. the tight swelling of your cunt causing daryl to finish with you and fuck if he didn’t cum the prettiest, sexiest way you had ever seen. straight out of your dirty, teenage fantasies and above you to soak in while you wreathed along with him.

he groaned and cursed into your chest, riding out each wave until he was shaking above you and so sensitive he couldn’t help but hiss as he pulled away, flopping down beside you.

a cigarette was quickly fished from his strewn jeans pockets and placed between his lips, lighting up and rolling back into the pillows lazily. every ounce of mending and merging you had just done was palpably tossed out the window, your scoff loudly filling the silence.

“that will kill you one day, hope you know that,” you muttered whilst gathering your clothes and slipping them on.

he didn’t bat an eye, nothing he hadn’t heard before from you and honestly, he didn’t really care. plenty of things in the world that’ll kill you, your naivety being one of them.

“lemme guess, gotta be up bright n’ early? tendin’ ta all yer charity cases?” he mused as he watched you head for the door. there had never been a night you’d spent together, probably would end up ripping each others faces off alone in room together for that long.

he didn’t get an answer, just an amused eye roll as you opened his bedroom door, “bye daryl.”

and then you were gone, quiet stomps heard as you floated up the stairs and he knew it would only be a matter of days before you were right back here, glued to his body and singing his name like you needed him to survive.

“figures,” he mumbled, taking a long drag from his smoke and smirking softly to himself.

what’s that saying? opposites always attract?

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bettyfrommars · 10 months

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Okay. An idea. Eddie and you, drive in, b movie monster marathon, nice crisp autumn night.

I’m over summer, sue me.

🧡🖤

Hope this puts a smile on your face Meg 🧡

Eddie Munson x Reader

18+ONLY, mature themes, smoking the devil's lettuce, b-movie references, friends to lovers, use of "baby" but no she/her or y/n, pure fluff, just some cute nonsense, Eddie and reader are in their early 20's. wc: 1.4k

I'm just a sucker (for you)

“Got it,” you crawled up into the squishy van seat with Eddie’s infamous drug lunchbox in your hand, plopping down with a theatrical smile on your face. “I knew I felt its presence.”

Eddie sat there looking so proud, as if you’d just pulled it out of a magic hat. “My baby is a bloodhound when it comes to the devil’s lettuce.”

You took a sharp inhale and choked a little at the use of the pet name. You and Eddie were not romantic like that, you’d only ever been weed buddies who met through Reefer Rick. Recently you’d discovered that he also enjoyed getting stoned or buzzed at the drive-in on Wednesday nights when they offered the cheesy, cinematic glory of b-movies by the likes of Burt I. Gordon and Roger Corman.

You’d both showed up alone to the drive-in, and on your way back to your car with a popcorn bucket almost too big for the crook of your arm, Eddie whistled to get your attention. It was a wolf-whistle, the likes of which made you frown as you searched for who the dead man was. His arm lolled out of the van window in a wave, and he gave you a finger gun.

“Oh, it’s just you,” you snorted, shoving a few kernels in your mouth, fingers glistening from all of the butter. You didn’t mind that kind of attention from Eddie because you knew he was harmless. Wasn’t he? Neither one of you had any attraction to each other, whatsoever, as far as you knew.

But then, you stopped in your tracks a few cars down, thinking about how you’d smoked your last bowl earlier, and Eddie would for sure have a decent supply on him. Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to hang out with a fellow freak for a bit.

The October nights were chilly, and you thought to grab a hoodie out of your car before you made your way back to his van. The grass at your feet was scattered in burnt orange and gold leaves, and the air was crisp, yet warm, with the smell of rain and freshly cut wood.

Eddie saw you walking back and jumped out of his vehicle this time, determined to get your attention. He held his hands behind his back, lifting up on his toes, tentatively. “Did you come back to give me a kiss?”

His mannerisms made you chuckle. “Keep dreaming, Munson,” you pushed the popcorn tub into his chest, and he grunted, taking it with both hands. “I thought you might like some company.”

Eddie squinted at you, whispering, leaning in, “you came to smoke all my weed like a little feral, stoner raccoon.”

The movie started —Attack of the Crab Monsters—and Eddie feared he’d left his lunchbox at home. You weren’t sure why, but you were about to stay and watch the movie with him even without the weed, but then you decided to take a chance and check around his messy van, just in case.

“Why is there a bed set up in the back?” You asked, wondering if maybe he was in between living situations at the moment. You’d been staying with your mom since you dropped out of college, and most days, you wished you were living in your car.

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you as he fingered a joint and slipped it behind his ear, snapping the lunchbox closed. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, you have about as much game as I do. There’s no way you’re getting laid that often in this van.”

“You know what they say,” he looked around, making sure no one was walking by as he passed you the lighter. “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”

You checked around too, and then sank down in your seat to take a long drag, passing it back to him, fanning the smoke away, coughing a few times, while the scenes from the black and white film flickered across your face. Just beyond the movie screen stretched a line of trees dressed in fall colors, and a big, bright, dark blue sky that burned purple over the hills.

You shared sneaky pulls off of the joint for the rest of the movie, each of you getting progressively invested in the loose plot, and giggly about it all at once. Eddie asked you a few personal questions, which you weren’t expecting, and sometimes you could feel his eyes on you. It was a double-feature night, and right after the crab monsters they were showing a personal favorite of yours: The Monster Club with Vincent Price.

It also happened to be one of Eddie’s favorites.

“There’s no way,” he shook his head dramatically, brushing his bangs off his forehead. “Nope. It’s impossible you love this movie, too. No one I know has ever even heard of it.”

“Well,” you had one foot hanging out the open window, sucking from your straw. “I feel bad for the ones who haven’t heard of it. It’s a masterpiece.”

You let him know that you had to run to the restroom but that you would be right back, because you didn’t want to miss the beginning, and you asked if you could get him anything. As you said it, you could tell he was doing his best to contain the smile yanking at the corners of his mouth, but his efforts were fruitless.

“So,” he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways to give you a curious look. “I guess you do like spending time with me?”

“Absolutely not,” you teased, slamming his door shut on your way toward the concessions.

There were butterflies in your stomach as you returned to the van, though; an undiagnosed thrill in your veins that had something to do with seeing his face again.

With Vincent Price’s face looming over the parked cars, Eddie cleared his throat. “Do you, um, have any plans for Halloween?”

“I never have plans,” you gave a self-deprecating bark of a laugh. Your favorite holiday was in a couple days and the most you had done was carve a few jack-o-lanterns. “I mean, used to, when I was kid, but these last couple years have been…rough.”

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen, plucking at the steering wheel with his thumb. “Do you, um, think you might want to come see a band with me?”

You snapped your head to look at him, but his eyes only flicked to you once before returning to the movie.

“A buddy of mine is in a cover band and, um, they’re playing at the haunted maze,” he pressed his lips together and then blew them out on a puff of air. “But I totally understand if it’s not your scene. I’ve got a shit ton of old horror movies at my place, too, or I’ve got friends at Family Video, we could—”

“Eddie Munson,” you had a funny feeling flopping its way from your stomach to your heart. “Are you asking me out on a date? Or are you just asking me to join you as a friend?”

“Now that all depends,” he lowered his chin, wiping something imaginary off of his jeans. “What would you say if I did ask you out? Would you, um, be into that sort of thing?”

“Shhhh,” you halted, eyes straight ahead. “Hold on, I love this part.”

You used it as an excuse to reach over and grab his forearm, to touch him, to give the type of reassurance that words couldn’t. You squeezed him through his leather jacket a few times, only a couple seconds, and Eddie watched it in slow motion, aching to take your hand. The distance was suddenly too far.

It was a song sequence with a vampire band on stage at the Monster Club singing “I’m just a sucker for your love.”

“You come from Pennsylvania

I’m from Transylvania

And I’m a pain in the neck...

When I kiss and fondle her

It’s like making love to a

Colander”

You could hear Eddie mumbling the lyrics and tapping his thumb, because he knew the obscure song by heart.

“Yes, Eddie,” you kept your attention on the screen, and now it was you losing the battle with a smile so big it pushed up your cheeks. “I think I would like to go on a date with you.”

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #October #Halloween #drive-in movie #fall #eddie x reader #requests

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serafilms · 6 months

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song 24! message in a bottle (taylor swift) + aang requested by @fylithia (spotify wrapped event)

but now you’re so far away and i’m down, feeling like a face in the crowd, i’m reaching for you, terrified

It’s been years now since the war ended. Years since you and your friends saved the world, defeated Zuko’s father and brought peace to the four nations once more. Ever since, everyone’s been busy trying to piece the world back together. Katara’s been staging a feminist revolution in the water tribes, Toph has been reinventing Earth bending, Suki taking the Kyoshi Warriors all over and recruiting, Sokka inventing, Zuko rebuilding a nation and Aang flitting all over the place.

You, on the other hand… What have you achieved? You went back to your village and spent some time telling stories of your adventures to children, then picking up odd jobs on fishing boats and cargo ships to hitch a ride to wherever your friends are off making history. You tell yourself you like the simplicity, like not having to worry about the fate of the world, but you feel like about as insignificant as a speck of dust at your biannual (twice a year) catch ups.

I’m like an old lady telling stories to relive her glory days, you think bitterly.

But you like reliving them. You miss adventuring and seeing the world with your friends. You miss when you were all just kids and there were no real titles or duties in the way (aside from your common goal of ending the war, of course). You miss when Aang looked at you like you’d hung all the stars in the sky, when he was just a boy who liked you but never said it, and when you liked him but refused to show it. Now you feel like you’re miles apart, like he’s on the top of the mountain and you’re left waiting at the base.

You still all write each other, Aang more than the rest but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s out of pity; it’s an obligation to you as an old friend. They’re busy now and that’s not their fault, and you all really would have no reason to go back to camping out. In fact, with the Avatar and Fire Lord especially, it was probably a security risk.

You’re too busy drowning in your own misery to notice Katara until she’s already nudging you in the arm. “Hey, why aren’t you over there with everyone else?”

Starting a little in surprise, you stare at her for a second before sighing as you kick your foot into the dirt and watch the dust rise.

“No reason,” you lie. Because I don’t want to talk to you guys. Especially Aang.

Your time alone has dulled your social skills, because Katara stares at you for a good seven seconds before you realise she expects you to keep talking.

“I think it’s just a little overwhelming to be around many people when I’m usually by myself.”

Her face softens and she reaches out to put her hand on your knee. “But it’s us. We want to make you comfortable and be around you. You know that, right?”

You nod, and she squeezes then releases you. “Let’s start small. Aang!”

Your chest flickers with panic as his bright eyes locate you instantly and he leaves his conversation with Zuko without a second thought. Katara takes his place, striding back up to the group as Aang stops right in front of you.

You feel your heart lurch at finally seeing him up close after spirits knows how many months. He's taller than you now, so it's not hard to avoid his gaze, but you can't tear your eyes away yet. His eyes sparkle at you and you feel yourself flush at how cute he looks with faint freckles dusting the upper part of his cheeks.

"Hey," he greets you softly, taking a seat beside you. "How are you?"

"I'm good," you find yourself saying, despite your mind being devoid of any thought that's not of him. His smile that's as sweet as ever, his eyes, his pink lips. How he's so, so out of your league.

Much like Katara, Aang seems unsatisfied with your short reply. "What have you been up to?"

Thinking about how much I love you. You can't say that, of course, so you babble on about the courier job you did a few months ago, which was great because you helped find a few new Kyoshi Warriors for Suki. When you look back at him once more, Aang has a soft look on his face, and a smile that seems to be there without his knowledge. Your face flushes, stomach flips and something akin to hope rises within you.

His cheeks turn pink when you've trailed off and he realises you're looking at him.

"Wow," he says. "That sounds really great."

You roll your eyes a little, feeling a sense of familiarity. "It's fine, you don't have to pretend you're interested. I know it's all boring compared to the work of the great Avatar."

"No, really," he insists, and there's an urgency in his voice, as if he needs you to know how genuine he is. "I think everything you do is amazing."

You smile. "Really?"

Aang nods down at you, eyes wide. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's you."

Embarrassed but pleased, you look down at your shoes before looking back up at him. "Thanks, Aang."

He grins at you, before glancing over to the others. "Wanna go catch up with everyone else?"

You take a look over at your friends. They look normal now, like a group of friends laughing, instead of the incredible figures they are. You nod at him and he extends a hand out to help you up. You take it.

You can't tell him how much he means to you, but you feel closer now. All you can do now is hope that one day, he gets the message.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #aang #aang x reader #atla x reader #avatar x reader #atla imagines #atla imagine #avatar imagines #avatar imagine #avatar the last Airbender x reader #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender imagines #aang imagine #aang imagines #written works !#2023 Spotify wrapped event !

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aphroditesmoon · 4 months

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lacrymosa [part 2]

clarisse la rue x fem!hecatecabin!reader [boarding school au]

PART 1

summary: you were sent to a prestigious boarding school to be rid from your father as a burden, but when strange things begins to happen upon your arrival, you wonder what truly lies behind the school walls. And as you attract attention from an infamous student, your plans to lie low is disrupted for the semester.

warnings: nightmares, a lil argument, enemies to lovers in a way.

a/n: under a special request, Olivia's name has been CHANGED to Tella, i hopenyou guys don't find the change too weird! And thank you for the love for this series so far, I hope u all can be patient with me writing every part in my own time🩷

wc: 6k

taglist: @bbybubbles @asvterias @kyuupidwrites @lyzsaphrodite @priyajoyy @yourmom-25s-blog

Something was not right. The thunderstorm outside felt unreal, the lightning struck again, and you only saw white slashing in front of you through the glass.

“Get away from the window, sweetheart.” A female voice you’ve never heard of, advised you. You turn around at the same time you felt her hand grip your shoulder.

“Mama?” You’ve seen her before. Of course you had. In pictures, and albums. But you’ve never heard her speak. She pulls you back onto the velvet chair that sat in the middle of the living room. Everything was unrecognizable. She and the place both was.

“What did I tell you about standing too close to the window? It’s already cool enough here- Oh, see? Your fingers are freezing.” True to her words, your fingers were pruning up.

Your mother’s hands loosened from your arm as she walked back into the kitchen. “I’m making some hot cocoa, do you want some?”

You didn’t respond, too busy examining your surroundings. The structure of the building gave you a sense of deja vu. And the view outside, even through the rain and storms, brought out a sinking feeling in your chest.

You walked back towards the window and saw a glimpse of yourself and flinched back. You’re a child.

It registered to you then that it was all a dream. And more fear erupted from your chest. Were you supposed to be this aware in dreams? It’s never happened before. And yet as you eye the pavement outside being splashed with water whilst your mother called for you from the kitchen, you knew it couldn’t be real.

This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream.

You pinched yourself, and still found yourself unmoving.

There is a statue outside on the grounds. A tall white something, you can't tell. But even in the fog and drizzle, it stands magnificent in all it's glory.

The third time your mother called for you, you turned towards her.

Her face glitches as she nears you with a mug in hand. A colorless mug, changing colors the same way her face changes too. You took a step back, frightened. But as your mother cocks her head to the side in question, your feet halts in its place.

“What did I tell you about the window, darling?”

“Mama?” you asked again, against your own resistance. Your mother smiled and moved closer. She wore a necklace with a circular shaped object that laid on her chest. It had rubies on it’s edge, and a triangle cut out in the middle, like a button you could push. It stood out like your mothers dark black eyes that bore no reflection.

“What did I tell you about standing too close to the window, sweetheart?” She asked again, stoically despite her toothy smile.

She glitched again, and for a moment, you thought her face had cracks all over it, filled with red burning glow that looked like lava.

Your hand itched to touch her, to pull her by her collar and scream, you are not my mother. To hug her, to cry in her chest and ask her why she left you.

But instead, you just stood there and hear her calling out for your name again.

The last call clashed with the sound of a thunder, and you felt yourself jump as your shooked out of your nightmare.

The earth below you felt like it had broken into two.

It was raining. It was actually fucking raining.

And for some reason, you looked up to the sky and felt rain water pouring down your whole entire body as lightning struck again from the clouds.

You were standing outside your school building at god knows what hour, in the rain.

“What the hell are you doing?” A thunderous voice shouted from behind you.

You twist your neck to look back, and found the last person you wanted to see in this kind of situation. “Clarisse.” You breathed out with tired eyes.

She stands under the roof of the dorm building, far from you, but close enough to be able to hear her yelling.

Clarisse sprinted towards you from your left with an umbrella that wasn't really standing a chance with the heaviness of the wind and water. Immediately, she pulled you under the pathetic excuse of a shelter and stared at you in disbelief, open mouthed and weirded out.

“Are you insane?” She bellowed out, somehow loud enough to hear. “I- I don't know what happened.” You shouted back.

“What do you mean?” She was beginning to pull you by your arm towards your dorm building, the two of you skipping quickly until you're finally in safety.

“I just woke up and I'm here.” Clarise took the umbrella and harshly flapped it to her side and tried wringing the water out from it. “You sleepwalked?” She asks as she's squeezing the umbrella.

“Yeah.” She then placed the umbrella against the walls of the ground floor, along with the other umbrellas placed there for emergency before taking you by the hand again towards the elevator.

“This has got to be the craziest case of sleepwalking, you could've had hypothermia.” She says it like it's your fault. You almost snapped back at her to say that she shouldn't be awake at this time too, but had the sense to keep your mouth shut. “It's never happened before.” You say instead.

“What never happened? Sleepwalking, or sleepwalking out of a building?”

“Both.” She nodded with an ‘ah’.

The elevator dings open, and her hand slips away from yours as she enters it before you.

“What were you doing awake anyways?” You finally ask her.

“I went down to use the water dispenser to fill up my bottle, then I saw a crazy girl in short shorts in the middle of a storm.”

Your cheeks heated up when you remembered that you were still in a tank top and shorts. A city girl's definition of pajamas.

“Thanks.” You muttered awkwardly, she acknowledges it with another nod.

Once the elevator stops at her level, she exits it and stops in her tracks when she realizes you weren't following her. “Come on.”

“I'm on level 20.” You say dumbly.

“I know, I've seen your dorm. You should come change at my place, unless you want to have to explain to your roommates why you're soaked at 3am.” You considered her proposal quickly and steps out before the doors could close.

“What about your roommates?” You asks.

“Don't have any.” She responds, clicking her tongue.

“Seriously?” She hums positively. “Legacy students have solo rooms.”

The walk towards her room was silent. You let your eyes wander through the red coloured halls and the decorations hung on them. She was an Ares girl, that one is obvious.

There are shields and trophies inside glass boxes along the way to the corridor, and you could assume that the Ares dorm kids are known for their competitiveness, alongside their ferocity.

Once you reach the end of a corridor, she unlocks the singular door that exists in this corner of the level and shoos you inside, following you right after.

Her room was unexpectedly neat, not that you let yourself really look around.

But it was difficult not to notice the air conditioner along with her much-larger-than-yours closet.

She passes you a new and folded towel for you to dry your hair and body while she searches for something to wear.

“Do you want to take a shower first?” She asks whilst rummaging through her closet. “No, it's fine.” It would be too suspicious if you skipped a shower a few hours after your friends woke up.

“Suit yourself.” She answers before handing over to you a thick Princeton sweater with long sleevss and cuffs with a pair of long cotton trousers.

Clarisse had the decency to turn around as you changed and only turned back around once you were done. “Just give me the towel.” She says. “It's laundry day tomorrow anyways.”

You stand near her bedside table after that, eyeing the small picture frame that sat there in solidarity. There was a picture of her, much younger than she is now, and an older woman with her hands around her shoulder.

“Is that your mom?” You asked. Clarisse walked over and shoved the frame down on the table, a CLACK noise following the action. “Someone's chatty.” She noted. But you thought you heard a slight tremble.

“Right, sorry. I should go now.” You feel whatever friendliness that managed to slip through the cracks ofnyour interaction with her, begin to dissolve.

It was easy to be reminded of who Clarisse La Rue actually was.

“What's the rush, I'm sure the rain water have woken you up quite well.” She replies, sitting down on her bed. “Look, I appreciate the help. But if my roommates wake up and they see that I'm gone, they-”

“They'll think you're using the bathroom.” She cuts you off. “For 20 minutes?” Clarisse shrugs. “Some people have issues.”

You sighed at her answer and felt your feet beginning to hurt from standing up for too long without shoes outside the school. You're tired and easily irritated after what just happened, and her push and pull behavior isn't helping.

“I don't know why you want me to stay, I'm tired, you're tired. And it's almost 4am.” You throw your arms up in exasperation. “I just wanna go back to sleep and act like this never happened.”

“You know, I'm just trying to make sure you're alright. Because despite your objection, that did happen. And that's not normal. So a thank you would suffice.” Her demeanor had changed into frustration, she was not someone who takes rejection well.

“I already thanked you. And I don't need a free counseling session from a bully- who by the way, ripped a drawing out of my sketchbook.” Clarisse's head jerked back at your words. She stood up to properly face you before you could run out of her room.

“Oh that's it, isn't it? I'm such a terrible person and your moral righteousness can't stand it, and yet you dedicated a whole page to my face.” You could no longer tell what she was feeling from her tone of voice. Was she amused or defensive?

“That book isn't yours to see, let alone to take.” You snapped back.

“It has my face on it, of course it's mine to take.” she scoffed, folding her arms together.

“Oh wow, I wonder what else you assume is yours to take with that kind of pretentiousness.” You retorted, laughing dryly at her face.

The smugness disappeared, and for a second, you felt proud.

“You know, for someone I can easily make life living hell for, you're starting to get way too daring. It's not cute anymore.” Clarisse's feet stepped closer to you, until your noses were inches away from each other.

There is fear in crossing the point where you can never go back when it comes to her anger. But you have never been the kind of girl to lay back and take a kick from anyone else.

You're also not the type of girl to think that you owe anyone anything for some common decency.

“I’m so genuinely curious Clarisse, who do you think you are? You're just another girl in this place, like the rest of us. Legacy student or not.”

An unhumourous smile paints her face as she shakes her head at you. “You have no idea who I am. And at this point, I'm starting to think that I should've just left you in the rain to freeze and die.”

“I would've woken up and left anyway, even if you weren't there.” As upset as you are with her, that part specifically caused you guilt to say aloud. She was obnoxious, but she did help you.

“Oh sure, miss tortured artist galloping in the thunderstorm-”

“I wasn't gallop- you know what?” It felt like the 100th time you were telling her off. “I'm actually leaving this time. So, thank you, for helping me, and thank you for your narcissism.”

You gripped the door handle tightly and spared her no glance as you pull it open and walked out away from her. You wanted to slam the door on her face but thought twice when you remembered that it's 4am and someone could've heard you.

You tiptoed your way back into the elevator and up to level 20. The dorm room was unlocked, unsurprisingly so.

The dark room's only source of light is the bright moon glowing numbly through the closed curtains behind Harper's bed. The rain have subsided, all the nightmarish lighting qnd thunder have stopped.

You gently climbed up onto your bed, eager to get under the covers. You could see the shadows of your friends from where you lay. Their silhouette giving you a peace of mind.

If either of them had heard of what just happened to you, they would panic. It's been 2 days, and yet they care for you so easily.

You rub your feet together, trying to diffuse the coldness away.

Tonight, whatever that had happened, felt unreal. But tomorrow all will be well. It had to be.

You had not slept a wink for the rest of the hours before your alarm went off.

There were times where you almost dozed off, but for some reason it felt like your tired body was unable to fully shut down and let go of the main control.

You know that sleepiness was evident in your face, but your roommates said nothing of it as they rose up, preparing to rush for the bathroom before the other girls could.

"Did you change clothes last night?" Harper asks absentmindedly. She pulls her hair up into a bun and grabbed her towel from the spinning chair by her table.

You looked down at the sweatshirt and back up at her. "Oh-uh, yeah. I got cold last night, with the rain and all."

"I figured. I just know the chill out there is gonna be crazy today." The both of them left after that for their shower and secured you a booth to get in to after they were done. Thankfully, there was a bit of hot water left for you to indulge in.

It was exactly what you needed after the horrifics you've experienced through a few hours before.

You had spent the hours before getting up, going over the dream you had. It was rare for you to remember your nightmares, let alone be aware that you were dreaming while you're doing it.

You could also remember small details like the glass window with the giant statue, your mother's necklace and the way her face appeared and disappeared. You've never been a superstitious person, but was there a possibility that dreams like that meant something? Or was it just another lucid dream?

You'd thought that you'd feel comforted, seeing your mother that way, and the way she fussed over you. But all you felt was a strong distinction. An awareness that she was not real, and that she'd never be.

There were 2 other girls in the bathroom with you when you were done showering. One was using the sink on your left, and another was still cleaning themselves up.

You forced the freezing water all over your face, trying to refresh yourself and hopefully make your face look less beated. Looking into the mirror felt like a challenge. The dream still haunts you even now. You almost expect a child to stare back from the glass. And god, how you feel like a child right now, out of place and confused.

After a few more splashes, you wiped the droplets off with your towel and clenched your toes as you walked back to your dorm.

The girls were halfway done getting ready when you entered. Their bags were stacked by the door on the way out. "You're a bit slow today." Tella noted as she struggles to keep her hair up without the strands falling out.

"Couldn't really sleep last night." You told them as you began putting on your plaited skirt. The zip had completely fallen off as you tried to pull it up. You swore aloud and had to restrain yourself from banging your head on your table. Everything was going wrong today. From the 3am sleepwalking to your stupid skirt dysfunction.

"What? What is it?" Harper asked in response to your outburst.

"My zip fell off." You mumbled in annoyance. Her head tilted towards you in concern. "I have a safety pin, I think it'd work. Do you want it?"

"Yes please." You answer. She pulls out a tiny box of safety pins from her drawer and hands you one to use. "Thanks."

"Don't sweat it." Harper was the first to finish. She helped Tella fix her ponytail for the 5th time, slapping her hand away when she tried to tighten it herself.

Once the three of you were all done, you left together, locking the dorm doors and going down through the full elevator.

You had stuffed Clarisse's still clean clothes inside your school bag when they were showering. You planned to return it to her owner, and let that be the last time you'll ever owe Clarisse La Rue anything.

The girls had probably assumed your behavior had something to do with homesickness, as they went on without question. You were grateful for the lack of conversation. The last thing you wanted to do today was talk.

You had questions bugging your mind and the need to isolate yourself. It's what you always do whenever you're feeling disturbed and overwhelmed, you black out from the rest of the world.

Carefully walking down the school halls to your locker, you half expected people to stare at you differently, afraid that someone else might've seen you from last night, but everyone minded their business, and so uou did too.

You were pulling out your books from the locker when you hear Tella turning around to greet someone, taking a step further away from you and Harper. You twist your neck to meet the mystery man who's in conversation with your friend.

Sharing a look with Harper, she only shook her head nonchalantly before leaning closer to you. "That's Luke Castellan." She whispered.

The name was recognised quickly, old conversations with Tella being brought back in memory. "That's the guy she likes?"

Harper nodded. "Well, does he like her back?"

Harper shrugged. "They compared hand sizes, so I think so. But who knows with boys." You made a face at her and nodded warily. "As long as she's happy." You tell her. It wasn't that Luke was unattractive, it's that he sounded so much like a regular teenage boy that you have grown to have an automatic dislike for.

It wasn't his fault that the species of his sex have failed in their entirety.

Harper was about to say something else when Tella suddenly called for you and had gotten closer. "This is our new roommate I was talking about." She says to Luke, gesturing to you.

Up close, you could see that he has a scar on his cheek. He also had dark curls and brown eyes that seemed to fit the whole american sweetheart vibes that Tella was obviously into.

"Hey." You greeted him without any animosity. He smiled and returned the greeting, giving you a small wave. "How do you like it here so far?" He asks.

"Well, it's only been 2 days but I think it's alright." You answer dishonestly. Obviously you weren't going to tell him that this place has conjured some deeply problematic things from inside of you like sleepwalking and attracting assholes.

His grin doesn't falter as he takes in your words. "Not exactly an exciting place, is it? At least you're in good company." You forced out a tight smile for him. God only knows just how exciting it's been for you, and it hasn't even been a week.

You thought of cutting to the chase by telling him it's nice knowing him and walking off before your eyes landed on a girl walking past the lot of you.

Clarisse La Rue kept her eyes straight ahead as she headed for the classroom at the back. Her clothes are still in your bag that's sat on the floor. You picked it up and slung it over your shoulder and excused yourself from all three of them, making Luke and Tella move to the side to give you space. “I gotta go.”

"See you in recess." Tella called out. You raise your arm and give her a thumbs up and keep walking down the same path Clarisse did.

What a coincidence that you two are on the same class today? History is an interesting subject, one you're fully prepared to enjoy. But the thought of being anywhere close to the curly haired girl, makes your stomach feel like they're tied in knots.

You managed to chase after her before she was seated on her desk. And the class was thankfully still half empty since the bell hadn't rang yet. Your mind is racked on how you're supposed to just pass her a plastic of her clothes in the most subtle way possible.

But of course, your mouth had a mind of its own when you impulsively shouted out her name.

Clarisse had just dropped her own bag down against her table when she heard your call. She instantly turned around to face you. "New girl." She addressed you.

She widens her eyes in question. You push the plastic bag in your arms into her chest, and your fingers brush as she takes it from you to examine it. "Oh, this."

"Thank you for the clothes." You say monotonously. Neither of you looked pleased to see each other, but what's unexpected still, is that she also didn't look like she wanted to kill you like she did last night.

Clarisse waved it off and crouched down to keep the plastic inside her own bag.

You stood there waiting until she was gone and stood back up to see you. Something is supposed to be said in a moment like this, but none of you did.

And so with a small nod to enclose the interaction, you spun on your heels to egt to your table. Your feet was locked in place when you felt her hands on your shoulder.

You looked at her with raised brows in expectation.

"This is yours." She says, passing you a folded A4 paper. Your first thought was that this was your drawing that she took. But you hadn't used the kind of paper she was giving. You took the paper suspiciously. “What's this?” You asked.

She only says: “You'll see,” with a shrug.

The moment her grip was lifted from your shoulder, you walked and sat yourself at your desk, and tried your hardest not to turn around.

The bell had just begun to ring outside of the class, and other students were filling into the small space.

Whatever it was, you'd look at it later. For now, it's folded four times more and stuffed into your pencil case.

When one grows up, constantly having to take care of themselves without adult supervision or emotional support, they are also forced to belittle and diminish their own fears in an attempt to rise over their struggles to survive in a hostile environment.

And so you’ve had to learn to do things such as walking home from school alone and risking unwanted attention from men and how to hide a knife under your knuckles for prevention purposes.

And yet as you overcame these fears one by one, only two you had found impossible to fight. And that is your fear of moths and butterflies, and your fear of heights.

And yet, standing up here on the roof, arms placed against the railing and looking down, all you could think of is how beautiful the view was from up here. You could see the closed area of the school from above here. Green grass filled the large space that is guarded behind white walls and a large sign that said ‘NO ENTRY.’

The railing shook slightly, making you jerk back. The cringing noise it made hurts your ear as it vibrates. Taking a few steps back, you figured it’s safer to watch from a distance.

You cocked your head down again, taking one last glance down and tried to memorize the image of the flowery laced garden. Your friends would be looking for you now, you thought..

Your feet moved you to the closed door that awaits for your exits, and yet, as your hand wraps against the holder, the heaviness of it suddenly becomes unbearable. You wiped your hands on your skirt and tried to open the door again, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath. There wasn’t even a lock on this thing. Or was there? You couldn’t remember. You completely let go of the door and sprinted back towards the railing. Was there anyone that could help you?

No, of course not. The area was prohibited for anyone to cross. The same grasses and dying flowers watching you from underneath.

The railing shook again as you scanned the place thoroughly. This time it jerks so harshly that the left side of it completely pulls away from its metal and threatens to fall off. You jumped back just in time to not fall off, but your heart drops so strongly that it feels like you’ve already fallen.

You consider trying to pull back the railing and somehow pressing it back on it’s screw, but the damage was unfixable when you observed it in closer view. You think back to your main problem, escaping this place.

There was no other choice than to simply try pulling the door harder, and to scream for help.

You give all of your strength into pulling. “Help!” You shouted. “I'm stuck on the roof! Hello?”

The door felt like it shook a little, your cramped fingers kept on pulling until you were sure it really was opening. You paused for a minute to squeeze your fingers inside your palms.

“One last try.” You breathed out. Your hands give your best tug while your feet stay on the ground, unmoving. You hear a creak and your heart almost bursts out of hope.

Consistently pulling still, you could actually see the edges of the door sliding through, opening slowly. One, two three-

It opens widely with a slam, you're pushed back until your back hits the ground. Getting back up onto your knees, you rose up and aimed for the door. But the emptiness on the other side of the door held you back.

You gasped loudly. There was no staircase on your opposite. There was no concrete or flat ground for you to land your feet on. Only air and steepness. It was like a never ending hole to fall into, the kind of hole you imagined Alice had jumped inside of to arrive in wonderland.

Panic washed all over you. And as you're pacing around at the roof, you hear someone calling your name. It was help, somebody had arrived to help. The shouting was faint, but you heard it clearly anyways. You returned to the railing and searched for any spot of people, but no one wasn't there.

You hear the voice again, calling your name. It's getting louder, but you're not sure where it's coming from. You yell back on the top of your lungs. “I'm here!” And the response became more vivid.

“Miss?” You hear it like it's behind you.

You snapped your head to your back, nothing.

“Wake up.” The voice insisted. “I'm not dreaming.” You pushed. “This isn't a dream.”

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.” The shouting was shrilling, your ears could be bleeding and you'd believe it.

“Wake up.” It screamed into your ear as you knelt down on the ground, covering your ears with both hands.

“Wake up!” You felt hands shaking your back. Your head looks up in a state of disorientation.

“Miss?” It was your biology teacher, bending down to meet your eyes, skeptically watching you.

“Everyone left, sweetheart.” She says, pointing at all the empty tables in the classroom. You hate that pet name. It always sounds so mocking.

This was the last class you had for today, the lack of sleep must've caught up with you. You straightened your back and apologized to Ms. Rhodes for keeping her waiting. She only shook her head and tells you to take care before leaving the classroom.

You looked around the class and tried to remind yourself that whatever you had seen in your mind, was just a dream. It wasn't real. And yet it felt like it, just like the dream you had last night. And in both dreams, you had been aware of the surroundings in ways you shouldn't be.

You wiped your hands over your face and yawned quietly. The clock above the board shows that it's already past 6pm. You cracked your knuckles together and lifted your bag onto your shoulders. If you're quick, you could still make it to the dorm showers before 7.

You stopped by your locker to stack your books inside of it. The hallway is empty, you're not sure how long you fell asleep, but everyone else seems to dread being inside this building more than they needed to.

You think of the vividness of the school landscape from your dream. The place had a staircase that led to the rooftop by the janitor's closet at the back. A small voice encourages you to try and retrace the steps in your dream, just to see how different iit was compared to real life.

But instead of going up the stairs, you notice the space behind it, and ducked your head down underneath instead.

There is a closed door a few steps away from the roof entrance staircase. It was a glass door covered with black plastic and a No Entry sign plastered on it. Those words ring a bell in your head.

You pushed it open gently and was pleased to see that it wasn't even locked. Whoever's trying to guard this place from students obviously isn't very good at their job.

The door opened up just enough for you to slide yourself inside. You weren't surprised to see a room of forests hidden inside.

This must be the garden. It wasn't quite like you dreamed it, but it was accurate enough. It's smaller than expected, and it's much more empty than I envisioned.

You circle the place, paying attention to the roots and veins that have crawled up the walls, stepping your feet on the overgrown weeds and leaves.

You flinched when you hear the leaves ruffles and turn to see the invader. Your shock immediately subsided and morphed into irritation when you saw her.

“Are you following me?” You ask in disbelief.

Clarisse frowned and denies it. “No? I was-?” She takes the time to think of an excuse until eventually she just sighs and shook her head. “Yes, okay maybe I did follow you here- but only because this is forbidden ground.”

“And you're so good at obeying rules?” You sarcastically question, earning an eye roll. “No, really though, what are you doing here?”

“I had a dream about the garden.” Clarisse waved her hands in confusion and frowned deeper. “Okay…that’s great?” You gave up trying to explain to her and focused back on your surrounding.

You tilted your head up at the sky, almost expecting to see the roof and a broken railing, but there is tinted dark glass coves the school roof for the safety of the mids, you thought.}, so all you saw staring back down is a closed building.

“You know, there you used to be a weeping angel here.” Clarisse spoke suddenly. “Hm?”

“A statue. Right in the middle.” She clarifies.

“Did they remove it because of Samara?” You asked. Clarisse's eyes widen and she looks you up and down with her hands on her hips. “Who told you about Samara?”

“My roommates.”

“Of course they did. Can't keep their mouth shut for shit.” Clarise scoffed. You feel overprotective over your friends, knowing them to have good intentions. “Don't talk about them like that.”

Clarisse ignores your warnings and instead moves like she's about to leave. “We should go. The teachers like to do a 360 before locking shit up.” She walks out without waiting. And despite your annoyance, you followed her still.

The two of you quietly walked side by side until you're out of school grounds and entered the dorm building together. There were some girls hanging out on the water fountain and near the elevator, but they paid no mind to either of you.

Clarisse's head is aimed straight ahead, and you consider it the longest she's gone without saying something stupid to you.

Once the elevator stops at her level, she gives you one last glance, her fierce eyes boring deep into yours for that split second. You thought you saw a shadow of a smile ghosting over her face, but before you could confirm, the door closes, and you're on your way to the Hecate level.

After unlocking the door of your dorm, you threw your bag onto the ground and basically swung yourself on your bed, making Harper jump while she's putting on her skincare. “You look like shit.” She tells you.

You snorted and rolled over until you're facing the ceiling. “I feel like it.”

She hummed casually and went on with her business.

You lifted your head up slightly to see Tella, but she's nowhere to be found.

“Where's Tella?” You asks Harper. “Showering.” She responds. “I don't know what's taking her so long, but you'll probably see her when you go to the bathroom.”

You nodded in understanding and began to undress yourself from the school clothes, putting them on the side for washing later.

You then started pulling out your notebooks that had homework in it and stacked it on your desk. Only after you pulled your pencil case out, you remembered about the piece of paper Clarisse had given you.

Curiously, you basically snatched it from inside your case, and unfold the paper from its small size into a large white A4 again.

Inside was the ugliest cartoonish image you’ve ever seen in your whole life.

It's a drawing. A badly drawn girl, half up only, with hair that supposedly, looks like yours. And a nose that didn't have the right proportions for the face size.

You smiled at the image subconsciously. You're sure Clarissebhad given this to you as some sort of trade, her picture for her, and your picture for you. It could even mean a truce between you two.

But instead of stressing over what deeper meaning does her doodles really have, you folded it back and kept it by your night lamp.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Harper asks, you meet her eyes through the mirror. “Nothing, I just remembered something funny.” You lied. She squints her eyes really hard as if she’s trying to read through you for any lies but then gives up after a few seconds of it.

Your smile disappeared as soon as it came, you picked your towel up and acted as if nothing happened and made your way to the bathroom.

What is your stance towards Clarisse? Inconclusive. She’s there behind every ostracizing event that has occurred to you so far. And you wonder just how big of a part does she really play into all of this. Her gaze still burns in the back of your mind, it’s almost impossible to escape her even when she’s not centered around any of the issues.

Should you let things play out in her way or should you keep fighting her off, stubborn to break the cycle of a moth to a flame,

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader

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why4anne · 4 months

Text

Money Power Glory

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Mafia! au

Part: 3/?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, fighting

Summary: When you accidentally found yourself in the middle of a mafia show down you had no idea that your life was about to change, forever. For better or for worse.

Masterlist

The earthy scent of basement was the first thing you noticed as you came to your senses. With your head pounding you opened your eyes. Thankfully the room was dim, the only light source being a floor lamp in the corner. You looked around, taking in your surroundings. The room was empty except for the chair you were tied, the lamp and some form of AC unit, the cold concrete walls and the lack of windows made you feel claustrophobic. Where the hell are you?

Your heart raced as panic began to set in. Memories of being attacked on the street flooded back, and you struggled against the restraints binding you to the chair. The room felt suffocating, and the realization that you were trapped in an unknown location only fueled your fear.

You took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself. Panicking wouldn't help, and you needed to assess the situation. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you noticed a door on the far side of the room.

The sound of footsteps approached, echoing in the cold, damp space. The door creaked open, revealing a figure in the shadows. You strained to see who it was, but the dim lighting obscured their features.

A man with black hair and a suit walked into the room, followed by two other masked men, his bodyguards you assumed. “So this is Leclerc’s new plaything? Pity you chose the wrong man, you are a cute one” He snarled, grabbing your chin with his rough hand and looking you over with a condescending gaze.

You recoiled instinctively at his touch, the feeling of his rough hand on your skin sending a shiver down your spine. Fear pulsed through you as you struggled against the restraints, desperate to break free from the chair that held you captive.

"Who are you? What do you want?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk, his eyes glinting with malice. "You don't need to know my name, sweetheart. All you need to know is that you're in a world of trouble now."

He circled around you, his footsteps echoing ominously in the small room. "You see, Charles Leclerc made a big mistake by letting you go. He thought he could protect you from afar, but he underestimated me. And now, you're going to pay the price for his arrogance."

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the situation. Charles had warned you that his world was dangerous, but you never imagined it would lead to this. Trapped in a basement with a man who clearly had ill intentions, you knew that you were in grave danger.

"What do you want from me?" you repeated, your voice more desperate this time.

The man leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to send a message to Leclerc. I want him to know that he can't just walk away from killing three of my best men. And you, my dear, are the perfect pawn to use against him."

Panic surged through you as his words sank in. You were nothing more than a tool in this man's twisted game, a pawn to be sacrificed for his own agenda. But you refused to go down without a fight.

"Please, you don't have to do this. I’ve only met him three times, I’m not important." you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

The man's smirk widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Oh, but you are. Charles Leclerc has not shown any interest in anyone since he took over as the head of the family. Yet, for you, he not only actively sought you out. No, he offered you his protection, he offered you a place in his home. He has an obsession with you and I plan on using that to my advantage.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Your throat dried up at the thought of what he may do to you in his sick need for revenge.

The man chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, darling, the possibilities are endless. But rest assured, it won't be pleasant for you."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you wracked your brain for a way out of this nightmare. But with your hands tied and surrounded by armed men, escape seemed impossible.

“Let’s see, I don’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours” He feigned puzzlement, rubbing his chin as if he was thinking. “Ah, I know, let’s see how you like the cold.”

He motioned for his men to open the door before he walked over to the AC unit and turned it on. The air coming from it was freezing and you were suddenly aware of your lack of clothing you had on. All you were wearing were a pair of shorts and a tank top.

“The temperature will continue to drop until you inevitably get hypothermia. I have a live feed sent to the Leclerc’s so don’t worry, he will have front seats for this” The man smirks cruelly before turning his back on you and walking out of the room with his men.

As the door creaked shut, leaving you alone in the cold, dimly lit room, the reality of your dire situation set in. Shivering in the frigid air, you strained against the restraints, desperate to find a way to escape the impending torture.

The chilling air gnawed at your skin, causing goosebumps to rise, and your breath became visible in the icy atmosphere. The room felt like a prison, and the cruel intentions of the man who held you captive loomed over you like a dark cloud.

Your mind raced, searching for any possible escape plan. The chair was sturdy, but you wondered if you could somehow topple it over, using the impact to break free. With each futile attempt, the cold seeped into your bones, making your movements sluggish.

The seconds felt like hours as you fought against the numbing cold, the fear of hypothermia looming over you. Your thoughts darted back to Charles, wondering if he had received the live feed and if there was any chance he could intervene.

As the temperature continued to drop, your teeth chattered uncontrollably, and your body trembled. You couldn't help but wonder how much longer you could endure the bone-chilling cold. The pain in your extremities intensified, and you felt a growing sense of helplessness.

Hours passed and just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, the door creaked open again. The man returned, without his bodyguards this time. A sinister grin was plastered on his face as he observed your suffering. The fucker was wearing a heavy coat as well as a pair of gloves and a hat, as if to taunt you with the prospect of warm clothes.

"Having fun, sweetheart?" he taunted, reveling in your distress. "I hope you're enjoying the preview. Charles needs to learn that his actions have consequences."

You mustered whatever strength you had left to glare at him defiantly. "You're a monster," you spat, your words barely audible through the chattering of your teeth.

The man chuckled, seemingly amused by your defiance. "Monsters are subjective, my dear. I'm just playing the game, and you happen to be a pawn. Now, let's see how much longer you can endure this before begging for mercy."

You continued to endure the bone-chilling cold, your body trembling involuntarily. The room had become a frozen prison, and the man's sadistic amusement only fueled your determination to survive.

The man circled you, his eyes glittering with malevolence. "You're a tough one, I'll give you that," he remarked, his gloved fingers tracing a pattern on the back of the chair. "But toughness can only get you so far in my world."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to show any signs of weakness. The pain in your extremities had become unbearable, and the cold seemed to seep into your very core. Desperation clawed at your mind as you tried to devise a plan to escape this frozen hell.

Just as you thought you couldn't endure it any longer, the sound of chaos erupted on the other side of the door. The sound of gunshots and screaming got closer and closer until, at last, the door smashed open once. This time, however, it wasn't the sadistic man who entered but a figure you didn't expect. Charles stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of anger and concern.

"What the hell is this?" Charles demanded, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him.

The sadistic man grinned, reveling in the surprise on Charles's face. "Well, well, if it isn't the great Charles Leclerc himself. I hope you're enjoying the show."

Charles's gaze hardened as he assessed the situation. "Release her. Now."

The man laughed, seemingly unfazed by Charles's commanding presence. "Oh, I don't think so. You see, Leclerc, you made a mistake letting this one go. And now, they're going to pay the price for your arrogance."

Charles's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "You're playing a dangerous game.

The sadistic man shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "It's only dangerous if you lose, Leclerc. And right now, it seems like you're losing."

As the standoff unfolded, you felt a glimmer of hope. Charles was here, and maybe he could put an end to this nightmare. The room seemed to hang in tense silence, the cold air thick with anticipation.

In that moment, Charles's eyes flashed with a resolve that sent a shiver down your spine. The room erupted into chaos as Charles lunged at the sadistic man.

“I should shoot you right here but that would be too easy for you.” Charles spat, holding the man down. Men filed into the room and fear filled your senses before you realized that they were Charles’. He let his men handle the man, taking him away, before quickly moving over to the chair that you were tied to. He made quick work of the ropes that were digging into your skin before he took you into his arms.

You started sobbing both from relief but also from all of the pent up fear finally releasing. He sank to the floor, holding you close and you savored his warmth. He took off his blazer and hung it over your shoulders to try and get you to warm up. The smell of his cologne was oddly comforting.

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re safe now” Charles continued to whisper in your ear. His voice was soothing and you felt your heart slow at his comfort. “Let’s get you out of here, darling” He coos before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style. The warm air of Monaco in the late spring hits you as you’re carried outside. You couldn’t believe that it was this hot outside while you were freezing to death in that basement mere minutes ago. The shivering finally subsided and you felt yourself relax in Charles’ arms.

“I’ll take you to my house, you’ll be safe there. It’s too risky for you to be by yourself right now, sweetheart, but I promise that I’ll protect you from this ever happening again” Charles vowed as he carefully put you down in the backseat of his Escalade. He rounded the car and sat down in the other seat before his driver turned on the engine.

The drive was peaceful, not a single word being uttered between the two of you. Charles’ hand found yours, rubbing gentle circles in your palm, as if trying to sooth you and keep you calm. The soothing sensation lulled you into a light sleep, the events of the day crashing down as your eyelids become heavy.

“We’re here sweetheart.” Charles whispers in your ear some time later. Your eyes blink open and you’re met with his gorgeous face smiling down at you softly. “Hi there, you slept well?” He chuckles at your tired expression.

“Yeah” You answer in a soft voice, happy to finally be safe and sound in the protection of his home.

“Good. Do you want to walk or should I carry you?” He asks as the heavy gates in front of his estate opens and the car rolls into the long driveway.

“I can walk, thank you” You answer him, not taking your eyes off the huge mansion in front of you. You are in awe, this is the biggest house you’ve ever seen.

Charles helped you out of the car, his arm wrapped protectively around you as you stood on shaky legs. The grandeur of his estate loomed before you, and you couldn't help but marvel at the opulence of the surroundings. The worry and fear from the basement began to dissipate as you entered the safety of his home.

As you walked through the luxurious halls, Charles guided you to a spacious bedroom. The room was adorned with elegant furnishings and soft, comforting colors. It was a stark contrast to the cold, dimly lit basement you had been trapped in just moments ago.

"Feel free to make yourself at home," Charles said, his voice gentle. "I'll have someone bring you something to eat. You must be starving."

You nodded gratefully, still processing the surreal turn of events. As Charles left the room to attend to your needs, you took a moment to appreciate the warmth and safety that surrounded you. The trauma of the basement lingered, but being in Charles' care provided a sense of solace.

After a warm meal, you found yourself sitting on a plush couch in the living room, wrapped in a soft blanket. Charles joined you, his expression a mix of concern and relief. He took a seat beside you, his hand finding yours once again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any signs of distress.

You managed a small smile, appreciating the genuine concern in his gaze. "I'm better now, thanks to you. I can't believe you came for me."

Charles sighed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "I told you, I won't let anything happen to you. You're under my protection now."

You nodded in understanding. Your own stubbornness put you in this situation in the first place. If you’d just accepted Charles’ care from the start none of this would’ve happened. But, you knew better now and you were not about to turn his protection down a second time.

“I need you to understand that what happened today was not an anomaly in my world. People get hurt, kidnapped or even worse on a daily basis. So I need you to stay here, in the house, where I can keep you safe. Do you understand?” Charles explains in a voice that leaves little room for negotiation

“But what about uni?” You ask the first thing that comes into mind.

Charles sighed, his expression softening. "I understand the importance of your education, but your safety comes first. We can arrange for online classes or find a way to make sure you don't fall behind. Right now, being out there alone is too risky. I won't let anything happen to you."

You nodded, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I trust you, Charles. If staying here is what it takes to be safe, then I'll do it."

A small smile played on his lips. "Thank you for understanding. I'll do everything in my power to make sure you're comfortable here."

As the evening wore on, Charles remained by your side, offering comfort and support. Despite the harrowing experience, you found solace in his presence. And as you drifted off to sleep in the comfort of his mansion, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events that brought you into his care.

Tag-list: @cmleitora @anne1444444 @halover13 @buendiabebeta @buttfug213

#charles leclerc x reader #money power glory au!#charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 #charles leclerc x female reader #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #mafia au #Charles Leclerc Mafia #Charles Leclerc Mafia au #mafia! charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic

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natalievoncatte · 11 months

Text

This ficlet is a scene from a high school AU. A high school AU that doesn’t exist yet because I haven’t written it and between the pirate AU and another I’m working on, it’ll be a while before I get to it.

It’s still living in my head and it needs to be free.

Tonight. She was going to tell Lena tonight. She had to, because if she kept this secret another day, another hour, another minute, she would die. There was never going to be another night so perfect as this one. The sky was clear over their heads and ablaze with stars, the moon hiding her face in shadow.

Kara wished Lena could see it the way she saw it, see the waves of particles scattering across the upper atmosphere and the glory of the stars.

“I wish I could share it with you.”

Lena made a soft sound. She lay back against Kara, sitting in the sand between Kara’s legs. They were a good mile up the beach, far from where anyone would find them, warmed by the fire Kara had started.

“Share what?” said Lena.

“The sky. I wish I could give you the sky.”

Lena shifted where she sat, turning in Kara’s lap to lean her head on Kara’s shoulder and look up at her. Lena was so beautiful that there were no words in English that could express what Kara felt when she looked at her. Green eyes flickered in glow from the fire, their boundless depths alive with yet more light than the endless tide of stars above their heads.

Sitting there in Kara’s sweatshirt, her hands tucked inside the sleeves for warmth, she was everything. Kara gently, experimentally, brought a hand up to draw a stray lock of curly dark hair away from Lena’s face. It was crossing the line, but they’d crossed the line so many times during these last weeks of summer, the line itself had been scratched to nothing.

Lena still stared directly into Karan’s eyes, emerald vistas more spectacular than any vista on any world she’d traveled. Kara adored her, everything about her, from the soft dimples that formed when she laughed to the way she could solve calculus problems in her head.

She wondered if Lena would have been matched to her on Krypton. She didn’t think she cared what a machine would think.

“Kara?” Lena whispered, tilting her chin up, inviting. Anticipating.

It was the most natural thing in the world for the hand that tamed the stray locks to now take Lena’s chin in the softest grip, for the other hand that rested on her thigh to slide up and take a possessive hold on her hip. It was like gravity drawing time together as Lena’s soft lips met hers.

The kiss was soft, halting, as much a question as an answer, and yet in that soft brushing of lips upon lips, a simple close-mouthed peck on the lips, a declaration was made. Lena almost went limp as she relaxed, safe for the hand that reached up to gently gather Kara’s neck and offer a silent affirmation for her to continue.

The fire was low by the time Kara knew they had to go. They walked up the beach together towards where Lena had parked them.

“What are we going to do?” Lena asked.

It was as much that question that brought them back to the real world, as it was the asphalt of the roadside pull-off. The question had been hanging over them like a deadly weight for weeks. Lena was going to MIT. Kara was going to NCU. There would be three thousand miles between them, and worse than that, no more sneaking around Midvale, free Lena’s parents watching them.

“Anything,” Kara said. “I won’t give up on us, ever.”

Lena said nothing, looking a little green now as she took the wheel of her Mercedes, a gift from her father before he died.

Kara sat beside her and kept the silence, but couldn’t take her eyes from Lena.

So, she almost didn’t see it coming.

High beams flicked on behind them, Lena crying out from the blinding flash in her rear view mirror. There was a sickening crunch as the car slammed into Lena’s bumper, and the driver was twisting the wheel.

“He’s trying to run us off the road,” Kara said, too calm.

“Hold on.”

Lena was a skilled driver, as capable as she was in everything she did. It didn’t matter. They were driving along a cliff overlooking the beach, a good fifty foot drop to the sand below.

There was no time. The car rammed them again, and Lena screamed, her cries turning to pure terror as the car turned against her will at the jarring impact. It spun, the world flailing crazily around them, and then came the inevitable lurch as the Mercedes careened over the shoulder and began to roll.

Kara threw herself across the gap between them, pulling Lena into a fetal position, shielding her with her own back. The car slammed onto its roof and Kara grunted as the struts gave way and sheet metal pancaked against her. Lena was screaming, clutching Kara with such a painful desperation.

The car rolled and rolled, crushing in around them. Finally, it stopped, settling on its roof, against a dune. Lena gasped, drawing in a shocked breath.

“What… how…”

“Hush,” Kara murmured. “I have you.”

Lena looked into Kara’s eyes.

Kara… flexed. She planted her feet on the roof and pushed, digging her back into the console. Lena clutched her tighter as the wreckage shifted, the entire chassis of the car rising as Kara stood, finally releasing her arms from Lena’s body. She put her palms against the wreckage and braced her back and pushed.

With a shriek of protesting metal, the entire car lifted over her head. Kara rose to her full height, two tons of steel and plastic resting on her palms as she easily raised it above her head.

She threw it, heaving it away. It crash landed in the sand a dozen yards away, carving a crater in the earth as it landed.

“There they are!” a voice called. “What the hell?”

Kara knew that voice. Otis Graves. One of Lex Luthor’s thugs.

“Who cares? Boss said to finish them. Shoot her.”

“Kara, get-“

Muzzle flashes lit the night. Kara stood her ground. The bullets struck her skin with soft, almost metallic pings. Kara reached down and plucked a bullet from the air, half a foot from Lena’s head. She screamed.

Lena’s terrified cry drove her over the edge. She crossed the gap between her and the two thugs in half a second, her eyes blazing with red sun fire. Kara slapped the gun out of Graves’s hand, curling it into a useless ball of twisted steel before it hit the ground.

Then, she grabbed him by the throat, hauled him up, and threw him. He rolled across the sand, crying out as a bone crunched in the landing. The man with him simply screamed Jesus Christ! and broke into a run.

“Kara? Kara!” Lena shouted, “oh my God, you’ve been shot! They shot you!”

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

Kara slipped her arms under Lena and lifted her easily from the sand.

“Put your arms around my neck, and hold on,” she said, taking Lena in a bridal carry. “I’m taking you back to my house. We need help. Eliza will know what to do.”

“How? Kara, we’re an hour away by car!”

“Do you trust me?”

Lena pressed tightly against her, shaking.

“I will always protect you,” Kara promised. “Always.”

“I trust you.”

Kara flew.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #teen au #high school au #just a scene stuck in my head #Kara will always protect Lena #identity reveal #is it still an identity reveal if she’s not actually supergirl yet?

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kryptid-writes · 11 months

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Chapter 1 - Dream a Little Dream of Me

Y/N has nightmares of a winged man haunting her dreams. When her dreams become reality, her world changes completely.

(1.3k)

The sound of wings rustling, knife slashing, and faded screams echo all around. The stink of metallic blood and rotting corpses burning my nose. I’m choking on the thick air, and it feels like my chest is caving in as my breathing gets shallower by the second. There's blood everywhere. My eyes widen as my gaze falls on the mangled corpses upon the forest floor, each one twisted and bent in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Rays of moonlight pours through the trees, dancing across their mangled remains like some twisted classical painting.

I sink to the damp forest floor. There’s no escape.

In the blink of an eye, a large ominous figure towers over my shaking form. His short dirty blonde hair and strong hands are covered in fresh blood splatter and pieces of sliced flesh. His striking eyes glow a dark red, reflecting the color of blood painting every surface. But what I truly could not take my eyes off of is his large white wings that block out the view of everything around it. His intimidating wingspan wraps around us like a dark feathery blanket, reminiscent of a night sky with no stars.

“I promise I will never let anyone hurt you, never let anyone come between us,” he says in a surprisingly soft voice. He flashes me a smile that’s intended to be comforting, but it comes out sick and twisted. He pulls me close and wraps his muscular arms around me, a low buzzing feeling humming between the two of us.

I can hear his heart beating in his chest, slow and steady, far too calm for a man that just slaughtered a dozen people with ease.

------------------------------------------------------------

I bolt up out of bed, nearly falling off completely, but I catch myself at the last second. A cold sweat clings to my skin and the worn-out sheets, my breath coming in heavy and ragged. It’s not the first time I’ve dreamed of the winged man, in fact it seems to be the only consistent thing in my hectic life as of lately, but waking from the dreams never seems to get easier, always a struggle to shake the sinking feeling.

It takes a few moments to remember where I am, the crappy motel room I rented for the night, not so different from the countless other run-down motels I’ve stayed in across the Midwest, all with the same stingy smell.

Obnoxious yellow floral wallpaper lines the wall, caked with dirt and God knows what else that’s been accumulating for years. Ceilings spotted with black mold and blotchy water stains. An outdated box television plays the local infomercial about some miracle cleaning product, but it all sounds muffled and far away. The digital alarm clock on the bed stand reads 2:00 AM flashing in big red bulky numbers.

Just a dream, I remind myself with a relieved sigh. I swing my feet out of bed, throwing on some jeans and my signature leather jacket, scuffed and torn in various places. I need some air. Just need to get out of here.

I recall the rundown bar I drove by just down the street. It’s a good way to kill some time. Plus, I could really use a drink right now. The bitter taste of alcohol is the only relief I get from these nightmares that torment me at night and haunt me during the day.

The cold air bites at my skin, but it’s surprisingly pleasant, grounding me back into reality and away from the painful dreams. It's the twelfth dream I’ve had this month and they only seem to be getting more intense, more real. They always end with the same winged figure. The same demonic, yet charming smile. No matter what I do, I just can’t seem to shake that haunting face.

Entering the bar, it’s nearly empty with a few patrons here and there. Most of them are older men wearing bulky leather jackets, a bit rough around the edges, perhaps a local biker gang. Some of them playing pool, others chatting about their glory days over a bottle of beer. The sound of the jukebox in the corner playing the best of eighties rock drowns out their conversations. It's apparent there’s not much of a buzz going on, unlike most bars at this hour.

The voices and music around me fades to background noise, it feels as if the rest of the world has disappeared, that I'm the only one left on this miserable planet.

I slide into a worn bar stool that’s certainly seen better days, taking off my worn leather jacket and placing it on the sticky wooden bar. I sigh and halfheartedly raise my hand to get the bartender's attention.

“What can I get you, hun?” A nice older lady asks, shining a glass behind the bar.

“Just a whiskey please. Jack Daniels if you got it,” I give her a weak smile, trying to blink the tiredness out of my eyes.

She nods and pours me a generous amount of light amber whiskey in a fancy glass, sliding it over to me.

I take a swig, the warm liquid slides down my throat with a pleasant burn, already giving me a sense of calm. These days, whiskey has been my best friend and I’m okay with that. People just disappoint you.

“Make it two.” A large figure takes the seat next to me.

My body stiffens. I recognize that voice from somewhere. I slowly turn to face him and see him staring back at me with those intense red eyes and intimidating wings that I’ve come to know all too well. My stomach drops. It's the man from my dreams. I freeze, my body going into fight or flight mode. In a matter of seconds, I decided to take my chances running. I leave my drink and jacket behind, making a beeline to the door, slamming it closed behind me, giving me any sort of advantage to get away.

He doesn’t follow, but that doesn’t stop me. I run and run and run until I physically can't anymore.

The streetlamps and apartment buildings around me turn into a blur and my head starts to feel dizzy. The world spins around me, clouding my vision. The cold air feels like it's burning my lungs as I struggle to gather oxygen. My legs feel like jello, ready to give out any second. I’ve lost track of how long I've been running, maybe minutes? Maybe hours? Everything in me is begging myself to keep running but I physically can’t force myself go on any further.

I tuck myself into an alley, leaning against the ragged brick wall that painfully digs into my back, yet it barely registers in my brain. My heart feels like it’s pounding out of my chest. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath.

God, please let this be another bad dream.

“I was going to pay for your drink, and you just ditch me like that? Rude.” The man scoffs.

My eyes shoot open to see the man from my dreams less than a foot away, arms crossed, looking nonchalant as ever. My blood turns cold.

How is that possible? He couldn't possibly have run that fast!

A knot twists in my stomach. Deep down I know. This man is not human, and he certainly does not have good intentions.

“L-leave me alone!” I try to sound brave, but my words come out a sloppy stutter. I hold my arm out in front of me, as if that will deter him in any way. Stupid. This intimidation tactic is clearly not working.

“Oh, don't be so dramatic Y/N.” He rolls his eyes, then presses a gentle finger to my forehead.

The world goes black.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader supernatural #lucifer supernatural #castiel #crowley #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural #spn fic #slow burn #love triang;e #choices #reader insert #love triangle

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abiiors · 1 year

Text

miserable together

head is swimming with cough syrup, i have no idea what this is but since matty and i are sick are the same time, i deserve to be delulu

wc: 900

it’s past 10 am on a tuesday morning, yet the entire house is dead quiet.

well…not really. there’s a small whine from under the duvet; either you or matty, you don’t know who just yet. your feverish bodies are cuddled up together, trying to hang on to the other’s warmth but it’s not comfortable. it’s itchy and hot and sticky but it’s also somehow freezing cold. you sneeze into the pillow, turning your face away from matty’s, unaware that he’s in the same boat. He stirs, just slightly and moves his face into the crook of your neck.

this close, you’re suddenly aware of how warm his breath feels; and also how uncomfortable it sounds—wet and rattling. it’s not pleasant, any of it.

You turn.

‘Matty…’ you speak softly, running a hand down his cheek, ‘you’re burning up, darling.’ he shivers under your touch, moaning something incorrigible.

a sharp pain lances through your head and another sneeze builds up. you turn again, sneezing as far away from him as possible as you suddenly become aware of all your aching muscles and sore throat.

‘i’m okay,’ he croaks, eyes barely open, ‘you on the other hand—’ and then promptly launches into a mini coughing fit that shakes the entire bed.

great, this is exactly what you need in the middle of the week. for both of you to be sick at the same time. you try to remember if you’re stocked up on paracetamol and cough syrup, if you still have enough frozen chicken soup for the two of you.

‘you’re burning up too,’ he pouts, completing his thought from before.

‘we are just two sickly people on death’s door today, aren’t we?’ you don’t mean to be this dramatic but something about being achy all over and not having him well enough to take care of you makes your frown deepen.

‘you’re so dramatic,’ he giggles. It almost turns into a cough again but he takes a deep breath and pulls you closer.

‘you look awful, darling.’

‘aww, thanks matty,’ you roll your eyes. it hurts.

he sighs and coughs again. both of you need something hot and some medicine. And a change of clothes; that much is evident by how sticky everything feels. later if you have the strength, the two of you might even shower together. but right now you need a plan of action. and teamwork.

‘how about this,’ he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, ‘i’ll get us some tea and something to eat. you get us some medicine and a change of clothes.’

you nod. in theory, this is an excellent plan. in theory, it would only take five minutes until you’re back in bed and hopefully much more comfortable than before. but tell that to your achy joints and your throbbing head that worsens every time you move even an inch. plus the light is so so bright.

he’s definitely feeling the exact same. his eyes are droopy and dull, curls sticking limply to his forehead. the dark circles under his eyes are so much more pronounced and his usually soft, pink lips are dry and chapped. in short, he looks awful. exactly like you.

‘i’m getting up now. i’m moving,’ you mumble into his chest, sedentary as ever.

‘mm-hmm.’

‘moving at the speed of light.’

‘i’m sure you are,’ he responds drily and his hold on you suspiciously tightens.

‘blink and you’ll miss it.’ a sleepy warning and it makes him chuckle.

‘baby…’ matty sighs, ‘do you want me to get up first?’

‘...yes please.’

he chuckles again. of course, he would find you in all your sick, pale glory cute. but alas, letting him get up would mean that you have to move and if you have to move then you might as well get this over with. but you won’t do it happily. even when he gives you a small encouraging kiss as a reward. you are going to be so grumpy today (as is your right) and drag your feet around like an emo teenager at this utter injustice.

not even ten minutes later, you’re both back in the room. he sets the steaming mugs of tea along with the biscuits and crackers aside. then you throw the pack of paracetamol, the bottle of cough syrup and a thermometer on the bed. he has already changed into the fluffy jumper and now he’s waiting for you (also in a fuzzy jumper) to get in bed.

you take turns checking each other’s temperatures; blowing on the tea and taking small tentative sips to soothe your throat while matty patiently waits for the tell-tale beep.

100.3 and 100.4. not the worst but annoying nonetheless.

‘i always knew i was hotter than you,’ he teases and then squirms away when you try to flick him with the thermometer. you don’t even have the strength to come up with a comeback really. so you just grumble something about remembering this the next time until he pulls you onto him again and kisses your pout. his mouth tastes of illness. so does yours, you imagine. but this is still nice; not having to worry about passing it on to him. instead, you get to snuggle up in bed and be miserable together.

#the 1975 #matty healy #matthew healy x reader #matty healy x reader #matthew healy #matty x reader #matty healy fluff #matty the 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x you #matty x you #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fluff #fluff #domestic fluff

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sourstroll · 10 months

Text

Summer Of Cum 2023

Day 15 - Come as lube

Pairing: Daniel/Max

WC: 1516

❀❀❀❀

Daniel knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

Indulging his teenage teammate’s wildest fantasies was not usually something he did, but it was getting harder and harder to deny his own feelings, the teeny tiny crush that had blossomed into something Daniel wasn’t ready to face yet.

Daniel felt a sort of hot, burning shame as he watched Max move himself into place, both of them naked. Daniel was certain he would’ve backed out by now, but seeing Max in all his glory, all pale skin and baby fat, only made him want him more.

They were already a weird tangle of limbs, Daniel sitting with his legs spread and Max sat in the space between them. Max’s legs were hooked over Daniel’s thighs, lazily hugged around his waist. In this position, they could scoot close enough to have their cocks right up against each other, perfect for what Max had wanted to do.

Daniel had almost fainted when Max mentioned he had a fleshlight a week prior, even worse off when the kid conjured up this idea that he wanted to use it with Daniel.

Daniel could barely think, barely breathe, Max pouring a generous amount of lube on his cock. Daniel was already hard, of course— he’d been fighting off the urge to pop a boner all week, so it was a relief that he could finally let himself lust after Max with just him to witness it. Max had been awkward at first, jittery, giggly, permanently flushed red as he used the silicone toy on Daniel, using gentle flicks of his wrist. Daniel had to try hard not to collapse back against the bed, leaned back on his hands instead. Daniel’s brain kept conjuring up flashes of Max fucking this thing in his free time, putting all his strength into going as deep as he could, coming into the tight pocket of silicone so hard he sees stars. It shouldn’t have turned Daniel on so much, but he was so far gone for him at this point, Daniel wasn’t sure he could make excuses for himself anymore.

“How does it feel?” Max asked suddenly, still stroking Daniel. He would easily admit that he’d imagined this exact scenario a hundred different times, not ashamed of how much he wanted Daniel. “You’re so big, can’t believe you fit in there,” Max mused, using his free hand to trace the entrance, feeling how monstrously stretched it felt. It’s an obscene sight, Max staring at Daniel with those too-blue eyes and practically drooling over how Daniel’s cock looks, nestled into the sleeve, almost too big to fit.

Daniel let out a groan, much louder than the ones he’d made before. “Feels really good,” Daniel huffed and reached down to place a hand on Max’s thigh, smoothing his hand up to his tummy, feeling the hard line of muscle there, grateful to be able to touch him like this. “You feel better,” he teased, watching Max’s expression turn helpless, like he wants to sit himself in Daniel’s lap instead of using the toy. “Have you thought about this a lot, Maxie?” Daniel asked shakily.

Max nodded eagerly, pressing the fleshlight all the way down and leaving it there for a few moments, letting Daniel relish in the feeling. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he admitted, accent thicker than usual.

“Is this how you do it on yourself?” Daniel breathed, biting his lip as he watched Max’s pace slow, the squelch of the fleshlight quiet between them.

“I do it faster,” Max murmured. “I imagine it’s you, sometimes,” he admitted, looking away from Daniel for a moment, wishing he could hide his embarrassment a little better.

“You make believe it’s me?” Daniel gasped, nearly losing it at the thought of Max being so into fucking him. “You’re gonna kill me, Max,” Daniel whined, resisting the urge to push his hips up into the soft silicone.

Max made sure not to stop his stroking, finally breaking eye contact with his movements to look up at Daniel. “Would you like that? Even if I’m younger?” Max asked timidly. He’d always assumed it was an age thing for Daniel, that the thought of having his much younger teammate fuck him was too far for him. If Max had it his way, he’d be plowing into Daniel most days.

“Fuck, Max,” Daniel groaned, letting his head loll back, his hand moving to rest on top of Max’s around the toy, still letting Max guide it. “You can do whatever you want to me, seriously,” he murmured, breaths getting choppier as he watched Max go faster. He felt a bit crazy with lust, like he never wanted to stop feeling like this, never wanted Max to stop being the innocent little teenager he was, spilling all his greatest desires to him.

Max recognized Daniel’s change of behavior, knowing he was getting closer by the second; it made Max move with a bit more intention. “I want to bend you over in my driver room, so I can fuck you on my couch,” Max blurted out, feeling like Daniel would appreciate a glimpse into his mind. “I think about doing it after every race, Danny.”

Daniel’s jaw was slack as Max spoke, gingerly digging his nails into Max’s wrist. He was speechless as he imagined himself, completely at Max’s mercy, getting fucked like a slut, right on the paddock. It’s not something he’d ever done before, never even thought of testing that boundary. Knowing that Max didn’t care and would rather let his post-race adrenaline take over, just to be able to have Daniel, was too much to handle all at once, and it sent him over the edge.

Daniel let out a moan that was fit for porn, eyes closing as he came inside the fleshlight, thighs shaking and hips trying to buck into the warmth of it. Max’s pace only slowed down a bit, milking the older man of his seed.

Max watched Daniel in awe, in love with how he looked when he came, even more obsessed with how well he’d reacted to the premise of getting fucked by him. “You like that idea,” Max said, more of a statement than a question. Before he pulled the toy off of him, Max leaned forward to kiss Daniel breathless, swallowing every oversensitive mewl Daniel made, pushing his tongue into the hot cavern of his mouth.

When Max did pull away, he was panting, feeling much too worked up to not do something about it. Max leaned back, reluctantly, so they had room between them again. Daniel still seemed to be gathering himself as Max pulled the toy off of him, careful not to spill any of his come. “What a waste,” he sighed, resting his weight on his free hand behind him. Max’s eyes were trained on the slit of the toy, currently dripping with Daniel’s come. He didn’t say a word as he tipped it upside down over his cock, letting a few drops fall down his length, his cock an angry red, clearly having been neglected for far too long.

Daniel hadn’t recovered yet, thrown for another loop as he watched Max lower the silicone sleeve to his tip, spreading his come around the opening even more. Daniel knew he’d never forget the sight of Max using his come to slide into the toy with ease, wanting it burned into the back of his eyelids. “Wow,” Daniel said dumbly, unable to articulate how insanely hot Max looked at the moment.

“Danny,” Max whined softly, wanting to put on a bit of a show for him as he used the toy on himself, knowing he wouldn’t last very long. “Show me how you want me to fuck you,” he instructed, as calmly as he could when he’d never taken the reigns before, not with Daniel.

Daniel’s hands moved before his brain could catch up, replacing Max’s hand on the toy like he told him to. He didn’t break eye contact with Max once, pumping faster, harder. “Like this,” he muttered, twisting his wrist for good measure. “Hard as you want, fast as you want, for as long as you want,” he purred, using his free hand to tangle into Max’s hair, pressing another passionate kiss to his mouth. “Anywhere you want,” Daniel tacked on, whispering it against his lips.

Max was never going to last, not as long as Daniel was there, being so impossibly perfect, saying all the right things and doing them even better. “Daniel,” he gasped one last time, kissing him as he came inside the fleshlight as well, mixing with Daniel’s come. He breathed harshly after pulling away, still feeling the aftershocks as Daniel pulled the toy off, setting it on the empty side of the bed.

Daniel practically tackled Max into another kiss, laying him back on the bed and using his weight to keep him pinned down. “Fuck me, please,” Daniel begged, his eyebrows furrowing as he pleaded, moving himself so he was straddling Max, desperate for him to be balls deep inside of him already.

❀❀❀ Previous Days ❀❀❀

#better late than never hehe #I will prob keep posting these even though it’s august hehe #summerofcum2023 #sourwrites #Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen #maxiel #f1 smut #333

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wildemaven · 1 year

Text

A Cut Above

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Hairstylist!Reader

WC: 2680

Warnings: T; Mentions of food, divorce, lots of pining and fluff otherwise.

A/N: I wanted to write a Hairstylist!Reader story a few years ago, but l wasn’t feeling super confident about my writing and just never got around to it. In the last few months I’ve had this urge to get back behind the chair again, which is what sparked this fic. Still haven’t decided if I will get back into doing hair as of yet, but I can enjoy writing about it. This is not beta’d and hope it reads well cause I’ve been run low sleep. Enjoy!!

Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Next

“You done for the day?”

The question pulls you from your thinking. It’s an organized chaos of mental notes streaming through your subconscious.

“I wish. I have one more then I’m done. It’s a new client too. So I’ll be a bit longer.”

“Color?”

“No, thank god! I don’t think my feet can take another 2 to 3 hours more.” The day was filled with back to back clients— a typical Saturday in the salon. Your clients who worked long hours, were always filling up your Saturdays. “Just a cut. Benny made the appointment for him, said his friend was in need of a change— very vague about it”

“Mmm.. Benny.”

“Earth to Hannah!! Gonna need you to touch back down girlie.” Hannah was the salon receptionist, and Benny Miller’s secret admirer.

“Huh? Oh sorry, got a bit distracted.”

“You don’t say? You know, you could just ask him out, would probably be way more exciting than sitting there and daydreaming about him 24/7.”

“I do not daydream about him 24/7–“ She tries convincing you, but you know her far too well. You shoot her a pointed look— you’re not buying it. “Okay! Alright, I do think about him— a lot! But I can’t help it, he’s so…”

“Pretty?” You finish her thought.

“Yeah. He’s so pretty.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that said Pretty Man Child Benny, might have an itty bitty crush on a cute little receptionist. So, put your big girl panties on and make a move.”

Benjamin Miller— Benny, was a long time client of yours, turned friend. He was in your chair every 5 weeks maintaining that gorgeous head of hair. Gotta look good for the ladies when I’m in the ring— his words.

As the years went on, you found you were collecting Benny’s friends and family as clients. His older brother Will, Will’s wife Nicole, his close friend Pope (still haven’t heard his real name), as well as Mom and Dad Miller. Benny kept your chair busy and you were grateful for that.

He’d text you on Monday saying he’d had a friend who was needing a cut, something about a fresh start. He was in luck because you had one spot open, so you scheduled some guy named “Fish” as your last client for the week.

“Wait really?! He knows who I am?!” Shock was written all over Hannah’s face.

“Hannah, you greet him every appointment— of course he knows who you are.”

“I think I black out the minute he walks through the door.”

“That would explain the drool every time.” You can’t help but laugh at her expense.

She rolls her eyes back at you as she gathers her things from the front desk. “Alright, I’m going to leave before you decide to carry on with this onslaught of nonsense. Going to go home and pour myself a glass of wine in celebration!”

“Celebration?? For what?”

“Benny Miller knows who I am! And he has a crush on me!!” You let her bask in her glory, as she all but floats to the front door.

“Hannah…” You catch her attention before she’s exits. “Text him! Preferably before the wine.”

“Yes mom!” She mocks back at you before the door swings shut.

You had 15 minutes until your appointment would be showing up, so you took the time to clean your station up a bit and set up for his hair cut.

Your shears, combs and clippers laid out on your hair cutting tray, clean cape folding on top of your station.

As you were checking over your schedule for next week, making a list of colors you needed to pick up from the beauty supply, the front door opened welcoming your client— your very handsome client.

He looks nearly 6 feet tall, and so broad. His hair is dark chestnut from what you can see peeking out from under his hat. There’s a casualness to him in the way he carries himself— a shy confidence.

“Hi! You must be Fish.” You give him your name as you make your way up to him, extending your hand out in greeting. His rather large hand gripping yours, firm but a gentleness to it.

“Did he really tell you my name is Fish?! Fuckin’ Benny.” He shakes his head, as if to fain off embarrassment. Shoving his hands in his pockets he starts laughing about it. “Yeah, he did. I am assuming that’s not actually your name though. Although, not judging if it is.”

“No, my name is Francisco Morales, but you can call me Frankie.” You notice the flush creeping up his neck— you make a mental note at how gorgeous he is before you get caught staring.

“Okay then, Frankie. You can come on back and have a seat here at my chair. Feel free to put your hat on my shelf there.” Helping him get situated.

“Let me go grab a clean towel and then we can chat about what you are wanting.”

Frankie sits himself down and starts to take in the space. You seem very tidy and organized as he glances over at your tray of cutting tools. He right away decides he likes that about you. Benny didn’t mention how beautiful you were when making him this appointment. He said you were pretty but he wasn’t expecting to be overwhelmed by how stunning you were— he knows he has to try his best to be cool and not ramble on.

He sees you making your way back to him in the mirror, his eyes locked on yours like magnets— he notices you catching him staring, but then you give him a smile that lights up your face. There’s that butterfly sensation tickling his insides, he hasn’t had that happen in a long time, but he welcomes it.

Arriving back to your station you take the small towel and place it on his shoulders before securing the cutting cape around his neck.

“So what are we thinking?” You ask as you begin to run your fingers through his hair, taking in the texture, density and the shape of the cut he has now.

“Uhh, I umm… I don’t know. I’m open to your professional opinion.” He didn’t realize he needed to come in with a style in mind. His usual barber usually says “Hi” then starts hacking at it.

“That’s okay.” You look at him in your mirror, his eyes already fixed on you and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

You hadn’t noticed his dimple earlier, and you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of it when he smiles. You steady your thoughts and continue to comb your fingers through his hair making note of how it lays and it’s natural growth pattern.

“You have a nice wave going on. If we work with it and bring your sides and the back in a little tighter the top will lay nicely.”

He’s captivated by everything you’re saying, and yet he doesn’t understand a single word of it. You could tell him he needed to shave his head and he’d willingly let you, no questions asked.

“How does that sound Frankie??”

“Honestly— I have no idea what any of what you just said means, but I trust you.”

“Well, I appreciate your honesty.” You find his nervousness charming. “You won’t be losing much length overall, it will be more shaping and connecting the sides to the top.” Your hands moving around his head as you try to explain your process.

“Again— no clue what you just said.”

“Got it! Enough hair jargon then. Let’s get you back and washed up first.”

The warm water hides the sweat that’s formed on your palms as you begin washing his hair. He’s settled into the shampoo bowl, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest in such a kicked back manner.

Your fingers work diligently as you begin to scrub the soapy liquid through his wet locks. As you spend ample time working over his scalp, you catch the sound of a faint moan. You don’t think he meant for it to sound so erotic, but it’s stirring a warm feeling with in you.

“Feel good?”

“Mmmhmmm..” It’s all he’s able to manage, your movements awakening him in so many ways, his spine vibrating with an indescribable desire.

Suds throughly rinsed, leave in conditioner combed through, you both get situated back at your station.

He seems way more relaxed, more chatty and asking questions as you go section by section, meticulously trimming away the unwanted ends.

His questions alternated between your professional life and personal— where you grew up, favorite food and what made you decide to become a hairstylist. In a different circumstance, it might have felt invasive— but there was an ease to Frankie that had you spilling your life story to him so freely.

In return you asked him for more about himself. He shared about his life in Delta Force, where he had met Benny, Will and Pope, who you now know as Santiago.

His life as a helicopter pilot keeping him busy most of the time. He even felt brave enough to mention his semi recent divorce. You didn’t feel like you needed to delve deeper into his failed marriage, especially for only just meeting him.

You shared the same sentiment in working long hours and how it had you feeling overwhelmed at times, like you had less free time for yourself— mentioning you were working on trying to have more fun and go out. You shared how your former partners were always annoyed with you for being so consumed with work, the main reason you hadn’t been dating as much.

Checking and cross checking the length, you’re happy with how it’s shaping up.

“How do you normally style your hair? What are your go to products?”

He looks at you with the most sincere and confused expression, nervous to share his routine with you.

“Normally it’s just straight out of the shower, quick rubbing of the towel over it so it’s not dripping, then toss the hat on.” Pointing to the battered hat he’d worn in.

“Frankie! If there’s only one piece of advice you leave here with, please let it be that you never aggressively rub a towel over your hair again!”

He thinks he should feel embarrassed but there’s a sweetness in the way you share your knowledge with him— he will make a conscientious effort to gently pat his hair dry from now on.

“Since you mentioned you are usually throwing on your hat, it’s probably safe to assume there’s not much actual styling going on?”

“Uh, yeah… Not much styling. The least amount of steps possible is my go to method.”

“While the hat vibe is cute, I would not be doing my job if I sent you out of here wearing—”

“You think I’m cute?” He cuts you off. That dimple again making an appearance, his grin slightly laced in flirtation.

“Umm, yes.” Your face feels hot, the blow-dryer not helping much, as you try to remain calm and collected.

“Hm!”

Grabbing some product and applying a small amount to your palm, you begin to distribute it throughout his hair. .

“But I think without the hat is cute too. Easier to see all of your,” You gulp at your next admission. “Attractive features.” You giggle as you finish styling his freshly trimmed hair, each strand manipulated with such precision— the new length really does add to his handsomeness.

“You think I’m attractive too?” He says shifting in the chair, his gaze still steady on you.

“Oh wow, I’m really just letting my internal monologue run my mouth aren’t I?”

He shrugs with the slightest cock of his eyebrows in response.

“And now would be a good time for the ground to just swallow me up!” You groan, hands covering your face as you attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered.”

“So you think I’m cute now? We just going to spend the rest of the night confessing our new found feelings having only just met?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” He states so casually.

The rest of his appointment is filled with more flirtatious banter, a connection that you’re both very much aware of— yet neither of you stating the obvious

“Thank you again.” Frankie says holding a bag of products he insisted he leave with, wanting to branch out from his usual “hat vibe”’as you called it— said hat’s bill tucked into the back pocket of his already snug blue jeans.

“So… Do you want to set something up for next time?” Pulling out your schedule, hoping that Frankie likes his cut, and you, enough to return regularly. “I think 5 to 6 weeks would be a good amount of time to see you again.”

“Actually— I was hoping I could see you sooner than that.”

“Oh! Okay. When are you thinking?” Slightly confused, you start scanning over the openings you have in the coming weeks.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?? I’m not follow— Oh! Ooooh!”

“Yeah….” There’s a budding nervous energy about him as you realize what he’s asking. “There’s this sports bar around the corner— the guys and I hang out there from time to time. Anyways, they have some great appetizers and craft beer on tap… If you’re open to it, we could, um go… Unless you have other plans…”

“Yes! I’d love to Frankie.”

“Yeah?!” His face instantly beaming with excitement.

“Yeah! Just let me clean and lock up real quick, then we can head out.”

Drinks and appetizers flowed into a moonlit walk back to your car— both of you stalling out your goodbyes.

“So, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Frankie says as his hand cups your cheek, his warm gaze fixed on yours. “I hope this isn’t too soon, but would it be okay if I kissed you?”

“Yeah.. I’d like that.” Leaning into him to close the gap, fingers carding through the nape of his silky waves.

Frankie’s lips all but crash into yours, the intensity growing from your own, eager for more of him. He nips at the plumpness of your lower lip, encouraging them to part for him. His tongue slipping inside your mouth and you can taste the bitterness from his beer still lingering.

A grip is established on your hip, his hand slowly moving around to your backside eliciting a breathy moan from deep with in you as the heated kiss escalates.

Laughter from a rowdy group of bystanders reminds you both of your surroundings.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away there.” Frankie rests his forehead on yours as he tries to regain his composure, his breath fanning across your cheeks— they’re no longer cold from the frigid air.

“Well, I most certainly wasn’t complaining. In fact, I look forward to you doing it again sometime.”

He places a kiss to your forehead, before exchanging goodbyes. He promises again to call tomorrow, and you’re already breathlessly excited for it.

Heater cranked up in your car, willing your body to adjust to the heat. You grab for your phone in your purse, pulling open your message app so you can send a quick text before putting the car in drive.

-Hey Benny, just wanted to thank you for setting that appointment up for Frankie. He’s a great guy! Super funny and hella charming.

-You sure we’re talking about the same Frankie?? 😉

-Funny! Anyways, I appreciate it and I’m looking forward to seeing him again!

-Oh! Hannah called, we’ve got a date next week!

-You be good to her Benny!

-Of course! No problem! Make sure you and Frankie thank me in your wedding toast 🍾🍾 Night!!

You roll your eyes at his last text before tossing your phone in to the passenger seat. The entire drive home you can’t get Frankie out of your head, wondering if he’d find you too eager to call him when you got home.

The decision made for you by the buzzing of your phone— Frankie’s name flashing on the screen.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier #wildemaven writes #pedro pascal

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evilvvithin · 2 years

Text

Track you down pt.5

Pairing: yautja (feral) x f!reader

Summary: As you spend more time with your yautja, you start to learn more about him and his culture, working your way towards “proving” yourself to the others of his species. You also learn there's a 5th season in the year.

Words: 2, 885

Notes: This is smut smut smut. I’m here going through one of my thirsty moods and just kept writing, and this chapter came out of it. Not sorry. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, NSFW chapter.

AO3 || OTHER CHAPTERS

taglist: @looseratinthegarage @life-or-something-like-it @celebrain @themology @magicalus-godslayer

words used: sain’ja - warrior ooman - human ~~~

You never knew you could be capable of so much strength and agility. Even your senses got sharper afterwhile, since you weren't over stimulated by the mess of daily city life and stress from your work.

Hunting was a big part of his culture. Hunting for trophies, glory, social status in their clans. The first time you went hunting with your Yautja, he was pleasantly surprised. He took you to another part of his planet which was close to being a typical forest you knew well back home. You had some doubts about yourself at first, but you had some hunting knowledge in you after all. When you were a kid, your father occasionally took you with him to hunt. You learnt patience, handling rifles and staying hidden using the wind direction so the animals couldn’t smell you. It was years, but you still remembered it all. The fact you had your dog with you on the hunt helped too. To your Yautja disappointment, you weren't able to finish the first couple of hunts fully, but that changed over time. You two were going on adventures almost daily, each hunt taking longer and longer as you got stronger. You got numb to all the blood and death, finally hunting down and killing your first prey.

But can't we just go to Earth? We can get a bunch of food and other stuff for me, you've always kept asking him but he refused everytime.

It's too dangerous considering the mess I've left there, was always his reply.

He meant that it was dangerous for you, not him. Massacred soldiers in your house, blood and guts everywhere, alien fluids on the couch mixed with yours. He was right, you were not able to go near Earth for quite some time. You were surprised how little you missed your old life, your friends and even your family. Sometimes you wondered if they were even searching for you, or the government covered it all up so no one worried about you. They were more than capable of doing that.

When you two weren’t adventuring together, you stayed in his ship all the time. It was his home all the time, except the few occasions he came back to his homeland. He didn’t let you just wander around and explore by yourself to your disappointment.

You are not ready yet, he always said.

Not ready for this, not ready for that, not the right time for this and that. You didn’t understand what he was waiting for all the time, what he was afraid of. He was worried about other Yautjas finding out about you, maybe that was why?

When the time is right, you need to… prove yourself, was the reply to your question about his clan mates.

From what you knew about him and his species so far, you were almost certain that proving yourself meant obtaining some kind of worthy prey. Killing it and getting a trophy of it. You always shivered at the thought, not wanting to think about it any longer. Of course you were able to hunt some smallish animals, surprisingly similar to the earth ones, but you knew those weren't anything worthy enough in Yautjas eyes.

His ship was rather big, but soon you realized it's not big enough for you to get some time alone without your Yautja. He wanted to be near you at all times. You slowly learnt all his body and mandible language. You also learnt he was quite short tempered and he loved to be praised. Lots of things had to be done his way or he got annoyed. During your hunts, he made sure you're watching how he's sneaking to the prey before killing it. He always observed the animals way too long during hunts. For a long time you believed he was doing it only to show off himself, to make you adore him even more. As if it was possible to fall for him more, you always chuckled.

I don't care for the animals, I'm enjoying our time together while doing something I love… and you do too, he explained every time he saw you getting tired at the length of tracking the prey.

You didn't want to admit it but you enjoyed hunting too. The thrill, adrenaline of it. The danger of it, which he protected you from for now. You were looking forward to feeling the danger once the two of you started going after some bigger prey. He always laughed at you for not being able to keep up for as long as him and you were determined to prove him wrong, lasting longer the next hunt. He loved to tease you and you loved to tease him back.

Despite all his short tempered behavior, he had quite some patience with your dog. When your dog kept barking or whining to the point it made even you irritated, he remained calm. One time you caught the two through door space, your dog wagging his tail and licking your mate's knee, while he was using one finger to scratch your dog between his ears gently. It was truly an otherworldly sight as he never showed any interest towards your dog. Most of the time it looked like he regretted not killing him at first sight instead of taking him to the ship. The two of them slowly developed their own language you didn't understand. Different whistles and purring, your dog immediately knew what his new dad wanted. It always made you chuckle. Soon, your mate actually enjoyed having him at hunts and sending him after some small and weak prey and just watching him from the trees.

Cold breeze woke you up from your dream state, realizing your fur cover was gone and you were covered by the shadow of your mate, towering over you sitting at your legs. It was still dark, but you could see his yellow eyes piercing into yours with lust.

The sexual tension between you two was almost touchable and not decreasing at all. It was only growing if anything. He was really demanding the past few days, wanting to touch you at any chance, be as close to you as possible. He was inhaling your scent way more often as if something had changed. Sometimes he seemed like he couldn’t control himself near you. He didn't know what personal space meant and you had a doubt he wanted to know, but you enjoyed his presence, his touches. You enjoyed the feeling of being wanted so bad. When you got overwhelmed, he had his ways to make you change your mind and you always let him have his way because you enjoyed it as well. It was all teasing games, you knew he wouldn't touch you if you really didn't want to. The way he honored and respected you, no one ever treated you like that.

You blinked at him, trying to wake yourself up. As you wanted to sit up, he leaned closer to you and placed his hand on your chest. Claws tickling your bare skin as he slid his hand under your shirt, giving you goosebumps.

"Can't we take a single day off?" You laughed and stretched your body.

You wanted him, feeling the lust grow as your eyes ran over his muscular chest, but your lower area was still quite sore from yesterday. You could use a break.

"Can't help it," he purred and squeezed your breast softly, making you moan silently. "I want to breed you."

"Breed me?" You asked confused. "I'm still a little sore down… down there."

You placed your hand on your abdomen area and he tilted his head.

"Maybe it just needs a massage."

Twirling the mandibles, his hand slid down from your breast right down to your crotch and rubbed against your clit. Your cheeks immediately heated up as you felt the pleasure growing in your lower belly. He nuzzled on your cheek with mandibles, his typical way of kissing.

"It is the right time," he purred into your ear. "Mating season."

You blinked confused.

"Mating season? What?" You asked between moans as he kept playing with your clit.

"It means it's breeding time… and I am gonna breed you."

You had a feeling it's not like a normal round you two had before, he wouldn't specify that I'm gonna breed you otherwise. He immediately felt your tension and hesitation.

"Want me to leave? Say it, sain'ja."

When you opened your mouth to reply, he added pressure into the hand rubbing your clit, making you swallow all words you wanted to say and keep moaning instead.

He for sure has his ways to make things go how he wants, you smirked in your mind.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer to you. He clicked his mandibles, satisfied. You slid your hands down from his neck and found the clip on his belt, removing it together with him getting rid of your panties. His member slapped against your belly, reminding you of his size. He sat between your legs, grabbing them and placing them up against his shoulders.

"You know our DNA can't be combined, right?"

"Even if it's true, I'm going to fill you up anyway." He replied in a deep growl.

He started to stroke his cock slowly, his eyes closing with pleasure.

If? Shot through your mind. You were certain two different species can't successfully breed. Maybe…

"Maybe there's a chance if we try hard enough," he said and placed his hand on your stomach.

He easily covered your whole stomach from side to side with just one hand. It kept fascinating him, how small you were compared to him. Such a small ooman, able to handle yautja. Your small frame, trembling under his behemoth one, aroused him insanely. His cock twitched and he hissed, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you up towards him impatiently. The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, you let out another needy moan. Your back arched in an unnatural position but you ignored it, your mind overwhelmed by the lust and thought of being railed by him. He slid his length inside you fully and started to thrust in a quick pace. You gasped in surprise, still needing a little bit of time to adjust to his size even though you two had many many rounds before. Without stopping or slowing down, his yellow eyes were fixated on your face, watching it grimace in pleasure. Your lips partly opened, moaning. He dug his fingers into your thighs, keeping them from falling off his shoulders.

The position you were in made the whole act more intense. You never felt him so deep inside before, hitting your pleasure spot at such angle. Your vision was blacking out with every thrust he made. You heard him purr louder and louder as his pace increased. He let go of your legs and you slid down on the bed. Within a blink of an eye, both of you rolled around and you were on top of him, positioning yourself onto his member. You watched his face as you lowered yourself and his full length disappeared inside of you. His mandibles widened in pleasure. You felt his cock pulsating and started to ride him. Slowly at first, enjoying every single second, but he grew impatient quickly and pushed you down holding your waist, setting the pace as he wanted. You enjoyed teasing him, but also didn't want to prolong the climax you both were hungry for.

As your surroundings filled up with moans, your heart was beating rapidly and you felt your walls tighten around your mate's cock. His grip on your waist tightened as well and when you both came and you started to get weakened by the pleasure, wanting to lay next to him. He pushed you down into his crotch, the tip of his twitching cock so deep it was touching your cervix. Keeping you in place, you felt his warm seed filling you up. His claws scratched the surface of your soft skin as he released his load till the last drop. You felt the growing wetness underneath you, your pussy couldn’t even take all the cum. It was dripping out, even though you were still plugged by his cock.

He released an annoyed hiss as he realized it’s dripping out of you because you were sitting on top of him. Fingers still dug into your sides, he shifted you under him with one quick move. You felt his cock still pulsate inside of you, making sure no more cum dropped out. He moved his hand to your cheek and caressed it with a finger, tickling your face with his mandibles, both of you enjoying the moment of intimacy.

You experienced many wild stuff with your mate already not only in sex, but this was the most wild and hot stuff so far. You could say it was one of the sweetest things too as you were all locked under him, surrounded by his strong arms, your face cupped by his and his hand. Raising your hand, you gently played with his dreadlocks. They were extremely sensitive, but touching them softly and running your fingers through them gently enough brought him much pleasure.

“Not done yet?” You smirked, feeling his member growing and hardening in you again.

“This was just the beginning, my little brave ooman,” he groaned in reply and started to move slowly. “Breeding is a long, precise process.”

You knew he couldn’t smirk, but you swore you saw a big one on his face at that moment. Your body was weak already from the orgasm you just had and you felt like you had no energy, but when you felt him moving inside of you again, barely hitting the right spot, all the tiredness faded away. New wave of energy rushed through your body and you rocked your hips against his, wanting him to hit the spot fully. This time it took long before both of you were panting, filling the room with moans again. You were being filled with another load of his cum, mixing with your juices. Everything under you was wet and covered in it.

Trying to catch your breath, calming your heart rate, you watched him pull his cock out of you completely covered in the mix of yours and his cum. Your arms, wrapped around his shoulders till now, fell next to your head. You were exhausted, out of your mind from another orgasm. He locked his fingers with yours and stared at you silently, covering your face with his hot breath, till you calmed down enough.

Right when you opened your mouth to ask him about the length of the whole mating season, as he called it, you were flipped over on your belly and felt his cock near your entrance once again. If you thought two rounds were enough already, you were up for a real wild and long ride. He stood up on his knees and pulled up your butt. The second he let go of your sides, your legs lost balance and you felt like falling back down on your belly. Your legs were too weak to support you. Letting out a satisfied groan as he saw how good he fucked you, he positioned you back up and kept supporting you on his own, sliding his full length back into you.

Oh my–, shot through your mind before it went dark from the non stopping pleasure.

Hours later of constant breeding, as he kept calling it, you laid motionless on the bed. Feeling like a ragdoll and covered in sweat, with your lower body covered in cum, weighed down by the full weight of your yautja who just collapsed on top of you.

"My little sainja." He whispered. "Full of surprises."

It was the final round, even he was already exhausted.

"Usually only strong female Yautjas are capable of such breeding."

You were dizzy, only noticing the deafening heartbeat making both of your bodies vibrate. Before, you believed it's impossible for two different species to have an offspring, but after being filled with cum whole day to the point you felt like it's in your stomach as well, you doubted it. If it was possible, you knew your mate was the one to make it happen.

You tried to move, but it felt like your whole body became one big piece of jelly. You gave up and coughed, sending a signal to your mate that it's hard to breathe underneath his weight. It was hard for him to move as well, but he shoved himself off you and rested right next to you instead. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you to him tightly like a teddy bear. The now calm, deep breathing of your Yautja snoozing, resonating in your ears as your head was right on his chest, made your eyes feel heavy quickly. You really wanted to go and wash away all the sweat and juices you both were covered in, but your body wasn't listening to you at all. You snuggled on his chest and let your eyes close, falling to sleep feeling completely exhausted, safe and loved.

#prey 2022 #feral predator #yautja #feral predator x reader #yautja x reader #yautja x you #feral predator x you #fanfiction #predators #yautja x human #monster fucker #tw monsterfucking #.trackyoudown #avp #mari.fic

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seraphiism · 8 months

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❀ ﾟ. ༄ ┊ 𝐈 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ( 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢𝐢𝐢 ) ;

( THERE'S THIS SOMETHING INSIDE YOU THAT'S ROTTING AWAY & YOU FEEL IT ALL ALONG. )

characters : cabernet • m!chief quote cr : sylvia plath ; haruki murakami a/n : not nsfw but cabernet is .... Cabernet ﾟ. » pt. i • pt. ii

↬ cabernet ࿐ ࿔

BUT THE SOUL IS NOT ALWAYS BIRTHED FROM PURITIES AND INNOCENCE : LOVE A LESSON LEARNED , HONOR BESTOWED THROUGH SELFLESS MEANS. the soul is the heart, the vessel, the sacrifice, and for an insatiable sinner, it is meant for the DEVOURING.

cabernet knows of horrors & treacherous beings : human or sinner, sinner or saint. she knows of the bitterness that coats her tongue at the thought of a tarnished feast, knows of the desire that seeps through her veins in the consumption of another. there is glory in the hunt, just as there is glee in the reward.

but in the rot and decay contained in this sinner, there is a soul that does not bore the features she desires in the chosen, and if you look closely, you will learn she is made of everything god has admonished : pride . greed . wrath . envy . lust . gluttony . sloth.

she is so terribly forsaken yet not forgiven, but even you cannot deny her.

in this moment, rose colors her cheeks, and in those drunken eyes, there is a desire unspoken but told. she laces her fingers with yours-- slow, almost reverent, but you know you are not seen as a person, but rather, prey. still, your heart does not beat as quickly as hers does. you watch. you wait, cautious, though you know she will not hurt you.

when her gaze meets yours, she smiles, wanting, and she presses your hand against her cheek, leans into the touch as she lets out an amused hum.

"i’m yours." she tells you, and you almost wonder if your pulse quickens as she kisses the inside of your wrist. "i am yours until you allow me to devour you."

↬ m!chief ࿐ ࿔

& FATE IS NOT MEANT TO BE LEFT IN THE CRIMSON SHACKLES OF REDEMPTION AND RENEGADES, BUT OH, HOW IT BINDS YOU SO. there is no call of the divine upon his awakening, his mind and body thrown to the wolves in the moment of consciousness. he does not understand it all, not entirely -- this burden, this pressure to do good, to be good, to follow his heart until the very end.

but righteousness and self-sacrifice are not meant to go hand in hand, but in the connections he's made to those deemed outcasts, he puts his life on the line, pushing himself further and further from the light and deeper and deeper into the darkness and corruption of black rings.

is it self-destruction if it is for the sake of others? he is not sure. it is not a question he deems worth thinking over, not when there are too many things to do, too many people to save.

but when is the savior saved?

"you're straying too far." you whisper, and there is a quiet fear in your voice, a fear of what if, when or how, and your hands cup his face, tender, forcing him to look at you. "you're going too far. what happens when we lose you? what happens when i lose you?"

he pauses, and you see that flicker of conflict in his eyes-- this is all he knows, sacrifice and foolish courage. it is a necessity. this is all he knows, memories of origins lost. what else can he do but save everyone but himself?

still, he smiles, though it is laced with reluctance and apology as his hands gently grab your wrists, lowering them before he kisses your forehead.

"the shackles are not the only thing that bind us." he murmurs, another kiss placed on your nose. "wherever you are, i'll be with you, no matter the distance." another kiss, but this time, his lips meet yours. "i don't break my promises."

#path to nowhere #path to nowhere x reader #ptn x reader #m!chief x reader #cabernet x reader #i looooooooooooooove them i love them ....#tbh i think m!chief reminds me of byleth and tht makes me a little insane .#.: writing #.: multi

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emsvertigo · 1 year

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Money Power Glory

image not mine, found on pinterest

summary & genre — angst & slight nsfw. after the death of a gang member you take a moment to reflect in your tent. however with dutch standing so close you confide in him, which leads to a rare moment between the two of you. takes place in chapter 4 of rdr2.

warnings — touchy reader!!, canon typical violence mentioned, smoking, sensitive conversation topics, major character death.

character & pairing — dutch van der linde x fem!reader (red dead redemption 2. 2018)

word count — 2.2k

a/n — it’s finals season and i’m dying but i’m kinda obsessed with rdr2 rn cause i’m playing it for the first time (ahhh!!) i’m currently on the epilogue but i’m missing arthur’s story with the gang, especially dutch haha, so i decided to write this. obviously once again it is really self insert but i don’t care. if you’re reading this i love you and really hope you enjoy!

also!! don’t worry i’m still writing for ryan! i’ve got a draft in the works!

major spoilers for chapters 1-3 of rdr2!!

find my old fics here! ✿

From outside the tent, hearty singing could be heard, ringing out into the night breeze, a rare occasion for the camp as of late. The notes performed on guitar signified health and victory, however not everything that day brought had been pleasant. The death of a member of the gang had always been celebrated with memory and tales, yet the member who lay was not old enough to carry a lasting legacy. Sean’s death had been greatly overshadowed by the retrieval of Jack. Cheers echoed throughout the camp, yet there was a falseness to the smiles, which didn't quite reach the wearer's eyes.

Not that you didn't love Jack, of course, you did, just like every other member of the gang. His face lighting up with a smile was a blessing, and the only pain you wanted to witness him feel was a full stomach from eating too much. Of course, you wanted nothing but the best for the small child, but a young man had been killed only hours before. A young man that meant more to the gang than they dared realise.

You had passed Karen on your way to your tent, her head in her hand, beer beside her foot, swaying and swearing under her breath. You could never understand her pain, but you could understand the worry and apprehension of a loved one leaving for a mission. Someone who you adored so much that they were a piece of you, who could be taken in an instant. You had feared this moment would come to you, seeing as your lover was reckless, but never to someone as young and treasured as Sean.

You had tried to have a word with her and attempted to offer her comfort in her time of need, but she had shooed you away, drunkenly pointed to your tent, betrothed standing outside. She had slurred something about focusing on your problems and returned to the bottle.

It felt wrong to think of your own life and stupid measly controversies and bickering quarrels when Sean’s brains lay splattered across the ground in Rhodes. But he would have wanted your life to continue, and to think about the present and not the past. Although that didn't stop you from taking the time now to sit unattended, far from the party.

You played with your fingernails, chipping away at the red tint which matched Dutch’s waistcoat. Another way to establish your bond with him, to show that it was you that the infamous gang leader became soft and melted around. How a vicious man became putty in your hands a few years ago and every day since. Yet the days had drawn cold, and his stares distant, his kisses hurried and hasty. His voice always sang praise but never the words you wanted to hear, the poetry he had spoken years previous had turned sour.

With his back to you now, amber firelight illuminating his bloody maroon waistcoat, you observed the muscles in his arms tense as he surveyed the camp. A cigar was placed in his firm grip, blowing clouds of smoke into the air, his hat tilted to cover his eyes. His jaw was tight, small specs of stubble tracing his chin. The look of an elusive and feared leader. But you always could tell when your other half was tormented, and this was one of those times.

You let out a sigh. Just being able to be this close to a man that feared was enough to make you come undone, but his demeanour was not an invitation to show him affection. You believed him to be tired of you, and more interested in the youthful women within the camp. Not that you reprimanded them of course with their flowing hair and high-pitched laughs, any man would swoon at the sight of them. But Dutch? Dutch was your lover, and you couldn't bare to catch a glimpse of his eyes lingering on Mary Beth for a second longer. You wanted him to yearn for you again, to be satisfied with your touch.

But it appeared that he wasn't satisfied with anyone, not even those closest to him, since Blackwater.

“Dutch.” You called out to him, your breath was airy and welcoming. His shoulders tightened, and he took another long drag of his pipe, the amber light illuminating his face for a fleeting moment.

“Dutch.” You repeated, this time in a sing-song voice, trying to gather his attention. You wished to have him wrapped around your pinky yet again. But when he didn't respond and his position stayed intact, you decided to stand and make your way towards him.

You placed your hands over his back, running them up and around his neck, carefully tracing your fingertips along his throat. Dutch startled for a second, but calmed into your touch.

“Didn’t hear you comin’.” He whispered, turning his head towards you for a moment before returning his gaze to his family. He took a final drag of his cigar and dropped it, crushing it below his feet into the ground.

“I called but you didn't answer.” You smiled into his neck, holding him close to you. A gesture that used to be so frequent between you both, but had now become tiresome and unwanted. When Dutch remained silent, you spoke again - worry evident on your lips. “What’s on your mind?”

You noticed his eyebrows furl as he grimaced at his reflection. He sighed before replying, a pause between each statement. “Sean. Jack. John. Micah. Sometimes even Arthur and Hosea.”

As of late it wasn’t commonplace for Dutch to confide in you, and as you smelled the alcohol on his tongue you understood how much he needed comfort.

“I can’t stop thinking about Sean.” You sighed, nuzzling your cheek further into the crevis between his jaw and shoulder. “I know I didn't see it, but I keep picturing him laying there.”

“I know,” Dutch replied, an uneasy tone across his lips, “I feel as though I’m responsible for his death.”

You retreated from his shoulder at this remark. How could his mind twist his goals into acts of brutality? He had always been a good man, and you understood that more than anyone.

“Dutch..” You gently grasped his hands in yours, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t blame yourself for something you weren't there to prevent.”

His head dipped, hat sliding down his forehead as he did. You reached one hand up to grasp the hem of his hat and removed it from his head, dropping it to the side of your leg. The same hand then arose to cup the side of his face, running fingertips across his jaw. Your fingers danced into his sideburns and fiddled with the short hair growing there.

“This whole gang is fallin’ apart,” He paused, soaking in the emotion in your eyes. “Nobody has any goddamn faith anymore!” He spoke.

The silence that followed that statement was only heard by you, blood pumping in your ears as you thought back to every time you had been by Dutch’s side. How long you had been with him, and how much you had been through.

“Except for me.”

He lingered, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Yes. Except for you.”

Moments like this were so hard to come by. Dutch had been so occupied recently, going out scoring for the gang, all the while his conscience was plaguing him with ideologies and problems. Problems that were causing him to completely forget his old, loving, self. Beats like this one had to be shared with complete tranquillity. It didn't matter that Dutch had been eyeing other women, the only woman he could have at any moment was you, and sometimes you wished he would take advantage of that gift.

“I’m here for you, Dutch.” You whispered, his hands coming to find your hips and walking you back into the tent. “I'll always be by your side.”

“I know.” His reply solidified his tough exterior, but you knew that it meant a hell of a lot more to him that you had vocalised your trust in him, and the faith he so desperately clung to. “Just as I am to you, my sweet.”

The saccharine words dripping from his tongue sent you spiralling, but you knew of his silver tongue personality and understood he would use it to get whatever he wanted. He used it with the men, so why wouldn’t he use it to make your brain melt away? But as compliments fell from his mouth, you allowed yourself to be caught like a fish into his lure.

The music playing outside seemed to fade away, muffled by the intense stare Dutch was delivering. His eyelids were slightly heavy from the drink, and in close proximity, you saw his eyelashes flutter. One of his hands trapped yours in a gentle clutch, rubbing circles over the skin there. Your hand cupped his face, sliding your thumb against the stubble. You had hoped to discuss the issue surrounding his loyalty to you, but with his breath fanning your face with hot air you couldn't bare to let the moment disappear.

“Don’t worry, Dutch.” You exhaled, lips almost locking with your own. “You always think of something.”

Dutch reached his hand up from your hip and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His golden rings brushed against your cheek, which sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Looking back down at you he confessed;

“Right now I can’t think of anything but you.”

A small smile formed on your face as he leaned forwards and connected your lips in a tender kiss. A sigh escaped his lips as you drew your other hand up to cup the opposite cheek and tug him closer to you, closing your eyes as his chest met yours. His arms snaked slowly around your waist, placing themselves flat on the small of your back, cupping the material that sat there. The hair from his moustache tickled your upper lip and left you smiling into the kiss. His lips danced carefully around yours, making sure to keep the steady tempo of hearts melting into one. The souls of two individuals becoming a singular feeling.

Dutch dipped his tongue into your mouth, running his way along your bottom lip and encouraging your mouth to open and invite him inside. A small groan escaped his lips as the kiss became more heated, his hands lowering to grab at the bottom of your ass. The taste of smoke and whiskey was overwhelming in your throat as his tongue traced your teeth, and both your breaths met in the slim space between your starving bodies.

Dutch mumbled your name across your mouth, a noise that created a large arousal in you. Your hands reached down and glided slowly along the front of his waistcoat and down his chest. Your lips then disconnected when your hands found his gun belt, tugging at the rough leather found there. The buckle under your fingers, cool against your skin as his golden chains bounced onto your knuckles. His forehead connected with yours, breath tumbling from his lips.

“Darlin’...” He groaned, bucking his hips as your hand fell further onto his clothed crotch, feeling him beneath your touch. You spoke his name like a prayer, running over his lips with furious kisses. Your shawl fell to the ground, as his hands moved around your neck, your hand still pressing further into his most sensitive spot.

A moan escaped your lips as he jerked his hips forward, melting into your touch, pleading that you please him and rid him of this dreadful tension building up underneath our palm.

Suddenly there was a shout at the mouth of the tent and a wolf whistle to accompany it. Breaking your intimate moment, your cheeks burned red and Dutch turned to the entrance to confront the intruder, panting hard.

“Look at you!” The voice shouted, words slurred into one another, the stench of alcohol flowing through the air. You'd recognise that disgusting drawl anywhere. Micah. You could've cursed Dutch for allowing him to join the gang, let alone wasting this private moment.

Dutch shot Micah a glare and turned his body to cover you, flashing the silver pistol in its holster towards Micah. A loud and clear threat of death if Micah was not going to leave. But at this display of powerful rage, he backed off, grasping the bottle in his hand and throwing it into the swamp.

Dutch kicked a tent pole which caused the entrance of your makeshift home to close, excluding the rest of the world from your sanctuary. Another firm non-verbal to Micah, or anyone else in the gang, that you were his and no one could disturb you.

Dutch’s mouth was soon at your ear, tickling your skin with his moustache once again.

“Now, where were we?” He cooed, bringing your attention back to him. He placed one hand on either side of your hips and walked you back into the tent, seating you on the edge of your cot.

#dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #dutch rdr2 #dutch van der linde fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #hioreh fanfictions

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little-peril-stories · 4 months

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The Queen of Lies: The Stranger

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: lady whump (barely), being threatened with a knife

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 3800 || Approx reading time: 16 mins

The Stranger

Teaser: “I’m sorry!” he repeated, but he was still cackling, and when she returned to the bedroom, his entire body was splayed across the bed, chest heaving and eyes watering. “I wasn’t trying to.”

Bree was immediately suspicious when the first thing Will did upon laying eyes on her in the morning was quell a burst of laughter.

“What is it?” She sat up straight, letting the blanket fall away.

“I, uh…” He bit into his fist, obviously making a valiant effort not to howl at some mystery affair that he found endlessly entertaining. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” With a growing sense of trepidation, she watched his gaze travel over her again. “About what?”

He cleared his throat, eyes still alight. “Well…” Gently, he pressed two fingers to the side of her neck, which did little to illuminate the reason for his mirth. “Really? It doesn’t hurt?” Bree merely stared at him, and this appeared to be the moment that through let a new torrent of laughter. “Go look in a mirror,” he wheezed. “I’m sorry.” This, by far, was the most alarming thing he could have said, and she leapt up, running for the nearest looking glass.

She gasped when she saw the splotch that had appeared on her throat overnight—not the kind that Baden had left there so many times before with furious, choking fingers, but one of a different sort. “Will!”

“I’m sorry!” he repeated, but he was still cackling, and when she returned to the bedroom, his entire body was splayed across the bed, chest heaving and eyes watering. “I wasn’t trying to.”

Overcome with the admittedly pleasant memory of the activities which had resulted in the bruise on her throat, Bree began to laugh, too.

“Those things take forever to heal, too,” he said, wiping his eyes and drawing her back into the comfort of the bed. Soft cotton and warm, bare skin enveloped her once again.

“How would you know?”

He snorted, guiltless. “How do you think?” Grinning rather devilishly, he nipped at her neck, away from the incriminating bruise and gently enough to avoid coaxing out another.

She flicked him on the arm. “You’re a wicked boy.”

He batted his eyes. “Who? Me?” The façade of innocence vanished as he winked.

“Yes, you,” she said helplessly, but she couldn’t be angry. Not truly. Even if the evidence of what they had done the night before was splashed across her throat in brilliant purple glory.

Something, a dark voice reminded her, that went against a set of vows she had taken four years before.

The idea of being an adulterous wife, which it could not be denied that she now was, fell upon her as if from a great distance, a hazy sort of accusation that rippled around her like a cloud of dust. Drifting close, but not choking. It was true, and yet…

Bree wondered if it made her wicked—that she could not bring herself to feel a single speck of remorse, even as that low, accusing voice hurled at her a dozen horrid names and told her that retribution for her unfaithfulness would come soon enough.

“Hey. You okay?”

Will was talking to her, she realized. Saying something that had to be important, if he was the one checking her attention.

“Hmm?” She turned her look into his face—the dusting of freckles, the sleep lines creasing his cheek, the fading bruise at the corner of his mouth from the fight with those horrible boys a few nights before. “I’m sorry. I was…” She paused. “Daydreaming. What did you say?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trailing his hand to her shoulder and down her arm until it landed on the bandage. “The inn. I’m going to get our stuff.”

“What?” Illogical though it was, fear pounced almost instantly—that he would be hurt, that he would be caught, that he would never return. “By yourself?”

Biting his lip, clearly trying not to laugh, he confirmed, “Yeah.”

“But what if someone—”

“Bree,” he said, “I’ll go faster on my own. And it’s hardly anything, so it won’t be much to carry. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Something did happen the other night.”

With a soft, barely suppressed sigh, he laced his fingers through hers. “I mean, yeah. But what are we supposed to do? Leave the money there?”

“No,” she said, wavering. “I suppose you’re right.”

Will waved his free hand in the air. “Did I hear that right? Did someone just say I was right about something? And could it have been the clever, smartass lady herself?”

“Oh, stop,” she said, laughing. “But, really—you’ll be careful?”

“What are you talking about? I’m known for being careful.” When she fixed him with a dubious stare, a smirk fought its way onto his face. “I’m always sensible. And cautious. And, uh, p…prudent, and…”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, and Will feigned an indignant scoff. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Please.”

Kissing her suddenly enough to steal the very air from her lungs, he asked, “How’s that for a promise?”

Giddy, Bree said, “I suppose it’ll do.”

***

After the relatively meagre breakfast they cobbled together with what little food they found—and after she’d bullied him into helping her tidy up from the meal—Will headed for the door, promising to return soon. Watching him put on his boots, Bree was struck with a new worry—and a new suspicion. Quickly, before he could disappear, she asked if he was planning any other secret missions, like his visit to the townhouse the day of the drop. A guilty smile crossed his face.

“Okay,” he said, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, “you got me. I was gonna check the drop points.”

“You don’t have to keep things from me,” she told him, folding her arms.

“I know. You just worry a lot.”

Bree raised her eyebrows, letting a pointed stare slide over every mark still on his skin despite the weeks of freedom. “I’ve never seen you without some kind of injury. Shouldn’t I worry?”

He snorted, gave her a kiss and a promise to return in one piece, and went.

In his absence, peace settled over the townhouse save for the sound of the street outside, and even that was not so terribly loud. Bree watched a group of raggedy-looking children run past, throwing dead leaves at one another and chasing an alarmed-looking orange cat. It seemed terribly foreign, that near-palpable wild abandon, that fierce and feral energy with which they scampered through the streets. She’d never caused a ruckus with the boys and girls of her neighbourhood, for there were none to cause a ruckus with—at least, none whose parents would let them. They’d all been much the same as her: meek and pale and exceedingly well-behaved.

Well-behaved for a time, Bree thought with a smile, running her fingertips over the ink on her arm.

With the kitchen tidied and only the crackle of the fire to keep her company, Bree inspected the bookshelf. Its wooden slats sagged under the weight of more books than she would have ever expected to see in the headquarters of a ring of thieves, boasting titles and authors that astonished her: Dickens, Carroll, Browning, Chaucer, Blake, Wordsworth, Ovid, and even more.

Someone in Iustitia aecum, it seemed, was a kindred spirit.

One title winked up at her like the stars referenced on its first page, and it was with this book that she curled up by the fire, finding joy in her solitude for, perhaps, the first time in her life—because, for the first time in her life, she did not dread the return of the one who had left, but rather awaited it with warmth and welcome.

Sleep crept over her despite the daylight hour, settling upon the quiet townhouse in drapes and folds, luscious like the layers of a ballgown. Drifting to sleep in the soothing heat by the hearth, Bree wondered when she had last been so lazy—so delectably, wonderfully peaceful—as to rest like this while the sun still hung in the sky.

How long it was before she awoke, and what it was that roused her, Bree could not tell. But something bristled through her when she woke; a needling sense, a trickle of icy water down her back, called to her that something wasn’t right, and it needed her attention now.

But when she lifted her head, wincing as her neck groaned in pain from the strange angle at which it had fallen while she slept, she found nothing amiss.

Swallowing, Bree rose. Was it wise to call out? If it was Will, there should be no danger—right? But why would Will be sneaking around?

And if it wasn’t Will…

“Hello?” she called, tiptoeing across the room. It was silly, how tremulously her voice pierced the air. What reason was there to be frightened? None. She had probably just heard a bump or a cry from outside and jolted awake.

Of course, no one answered, and Bree breathed out in relief. She was being foolish; there was no one there. Embarrassed but at ease, Bree turned back toward the hearth, where the fire was almost out.

A hand latched onto her arm and yanked.

Bree cried out as her feet were nearly swept out from beneath her; someone was hurling her backwards. Forceful. Furious. Silent.

“H—”

A hand slammed hard over her mouth as the back of her skull cracked against the wall. Bree gasped, squirming against the hold of her attacker, whimpering and trying to gather the wherewithal to call for help.

“Who the hell are you?” a voice hissed. A woman’s voice. She was glaring right into Bree’s face, eyes glittering with suspicion. “And what the ever-loving fuck are you doing in my house?”

My house…

Bree tried to scream and shove the stranger off her, but the woman pressed a knife against her throat, point first, digging in until it hurt. “Hey. Listen the fuck up. We’re going to have a conversation, and if you scream, you’ll be sorry. Understand?”

Her house?

Bree nodded, her heart close to leaping right out of her chest when the knife remained precisely where it was.

“Yes,” she gasped when the woman’s hand lifted slightly. When Spider’s hand lifted slightly. For that was who she was, wasn’t it? If this was her house? “I—I understand.”

The hand fell away entirely, and Bree took a breath unencumbered. The girl still did not pull the knife away.

“Let’s hear it, then.” Despite the menacing glare and the very sharp blade, Bree could not help but notice that Spider was undeniably beautiful. Tight curls the deep hue of a starless night framed her face, and keen brown eyes gazed out from a visage so finely boned and free of imperfections, Bree almost wanted to weep. But there was nothing fine or gentle in her voice. “Who are you?”

“Please put the knife away,” Bree whispered, a response she knew was stupid, but the prickle of the knife-edge against her throat was one of the only things she could concentrate on.

Heaving a sigh, Spider removed the blade. Still, she didn’t move, keeping Bree pinned against the wall, her eyes as sharp and wary as ever. “Spill.”

“I’m—”

The last of the logs in the fireplace collapsed into ashes, startling them both. Spider whipped around, relaxing only when she realized it was the dying fire making noise. However, when she turned back to Bree, there was a touch of amusement to her features that had not been there before—and of confusion.

“You broke into my house just to read Romeo and Juliet?”

Bree wasn’t certain which question to answer first, so she merely stared.

Spider sighed again, and to Bree’s astonishment, she let go entirely. “Okay. Hurry up and, for the last time, tell me who you are and why you’re in here.”

“I’m Bree.” It came out as a squeak, and it seemed once again like the most foolish and unhelpful thing she could have said, but anything was surely better than nothing.

Spider sighed. “Okay? Bree who? Why—” She stopped suddenly, then repeated, “Bree.” Her eyes grew wide. “What’s that short for, huh?”

In a whisper, Bree told her, and the girl went still.

“Breanna.” Outside, the sun went behind a cloud, and the glint of her knife faded as the sky darkened. “I know who the fuck you are. I’ve seen the posters. What the hell are you doing here?” Her face had gone terribly pale, and though it was quiet, almost impossible to hear, Bree could have sworn she heard her mutter, “He fucking wouldn’t.”

“Will brought me,” Bree said quickly, and Spider came back to life. Bree side-stepped away as the girl moved toward her again.

“How the hell do you know his name?”

“He told me!” Bree wanted to look Spider in her eyes, to seek some smidgeon of understanding there, but it was hard to take her attention off the knife.

“You? He told you, Mrs. Breanna Hatchett?”

Unable to help herself, Bree flinched.

Instead of a further barrage of questions, however, her flinch was met with silence.

Bree dared to take her eyes off Spider’s knife, and when she did, she found a piercing gaze on her, too. It was still suspicious, yes, but curious now—heavier, laden with something that seemed dangerously like pity.

“He didn’t fucking kidnap you,” Spider said. Bree shook her head. “So how’d you end up here, then?”

With a shuddering breath, Bree confessed, “I ran away.”

Spider’s gaze roamed around the room, lingering on the abandoned copy of Romeo and Juliet, the wool blanket Bree had fallen asleep under, the now-dead fire, and then Bree once again. When they landed on the much-too-conspicuous bruise, she groaned.

“Well,” she said, sighing heavily as she tucked away her knife, “there’s a story here, isn’t there? How’d you two get…” She made a face. “... all tangled up together?”

At the utterly absurd—and inadequate—characterization of what existed between her and Will, Bree laughed, and to her surprise, Spider joined in, albeit hesitantly and somewhat darkly.

“Let’s start again,” said Spider. “You tell me the whole story, and I’ll leave the knife where it is. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bree agreed, accepting Spider’s offered hand. “Are you going to tell me your name?”

“If you don’t already know it? Not until I’ve heard all about whatever the fuck adventure you two have apparently been on for the last few weeks.”

Chewing on her tongue, wondering if she would regret her next words, Bree asked, “Are you J, C, or G?”

Spider slapped her palm to her forehead. “I’m going to kill that little bastard. What else did he blab about?” She shook her head, then looked around. “And where is he? We all thought he had to be dead, till we saw the posters.”

“He’s coming back,” Bree said. “He went—out.” She glanced at the chairs by the fire. “Should we sit?”

“No,” Spider said stiffly. “I need tea for this. We’re going to the kitchen.”

There did not seem to be much choice in the matter, and so with her heart still pounding wildly, Bree followed.

True to her word, Spider left her knife alone while Bree recounted, in as much detail as she thought necessary, the story of how she and Will had crossed paths and ended up in the Iustitia aecum townhouse. Spider was a good listener, keen and attentive, but once Bree got to the night they made it out of Baden’s prison, she interrupted.

“Let me get this straight.” With hands wrapped around a cracked cup, seeming not to mind the intense heat that had to be seeping into her fingers, Spider fixed Bree with a doubtful stare. “It was you? You were the one who got him out?”

Unsure if she should feel smug or offended at Spider’s look of disbelief, Bree nodded.

“You’re mad,” Spider said bluntly. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are that even worked? What a perfectly outrageous miracle that is?”

“I know,” said Bree quietly, thinking of Mrs. Bristow and how fortuitous her appearance had been. “But…I couldn’t stay. And I couldn’t leave him.”

For a long while, Spider was silent. Her eyes remained fixed upon the scratched tabletop, fingers changing colour from how tightly she gripped her cup of tea. From somewhere Bree couldn’t see—Spider’s pocket, she guessed—there came the faint ticking of a watch, and she let herself fall into the rhythm it played out by the second.

“Thank you.” Spider’s words were sudden, her voice soft—the gentlest it had been since she’d accosted Bree by the fire. “For helping him.” A shine seemed to glitter in her deep brown gaze, but when she blinked, it was gone. “It was mad, yes. But that was awfully brave of you.”

As Bree opened her mouth to reply, the front door opened and a voice, excited and breathless, split the air.

“Bree! You won’t believe it! Your message, it was gone! One of them must have—”

As Will barrelled into the kitchen, bringing with him muddy footprints and crisp autumn air, he froze.

“Holy shit,” he gasped.

“You little shit,” Spider said at the same time, leaping to her feet. “We thought you were dead.”

Bree clapped a hand to her mouth as Spider flew across the room and flung her arms around Will, nearly knocking him over as his slippery boots slid along the floor.

“Fuck! You gone crazy?” he yelped, but he was laughing, and he embraced her back.

“God, you’re so lucky I decided to hug you,” Spider said, her voice thick, “because it was a toss-up between that and slapping you silly.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know!” Spider said. She still had not let go. “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried.”

“In jail?”

“After that, you idiot! You know what I mean.”

Will laughed—quietly, uncertainly, almost sadly. “Colette, how the fuck was I supposed to find you?”

At this, the girl whose name he had accidentally revealed pulled away. “Way to go, dumbass.” Quick as lightning, she wiped her eyes. “Guess that secret’s out, then.”

“Oops,” he said, going red. “Sorry.”

Glancing back at Bree, Colette shook her head, smiling now, and said, “Well, whatever. You’re alive. You’re all right. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

“How the hell’d you end up here, anyway?” Will asked. “Where are the others? Are they okay? Are they still—”

“They’re fine,” said Colette gently. “I told them—well, Ja—Wolf—to stay the fuck away until I found out more about the note. I mean…it was your writing, but…”

Bree watched the conversation unfold, as Colette hinted at the suspicions they’d harboured that perhaps Will had been rearrested and coerced by the police into leaving notes for them in some form of a trap; as she berated him for tracking mud through the house; as he scoffed and rolled his eyes but obediently removed his boots, flinging them back toward the door; and as he stood beside Bree and demanded accusingly to know if Colette had behaved herself and kept her knife under control.

“Define behaving,” Colette said slyly, and Will’s eyes narrowed. He held tightly to Bree’s hand.

“Did she try to stab you or anything?” he asked suspiciously.

“Only a little,” said Bree and Colette together.

Will glared at his friend. “What the fuck?”

“What was I supposed to do? I came here to drop off the rent payment and look for you, and I found some random-ass woman instead.”

“She’s not some random-ass woman,” Will said tartly.

Colette sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know that then, so I’ll ask again—what should I have done?”

“Really,” Bree said to Will quietly, “it’s fine.”

His fingers clasped a little tighter, and he looked down at her injured arm. “You don’t need any more fucking cuts or bruises.”

“Well, no, but she’s right… I was alone in your house.”

Colette seemed quite ready to defend herself further, apparently wholly unintimidated by Will’s annoyance, but as she was about to speak, an unexpected noise from the front door had all three of them alert and listening.

“Oh, those fools,” Colette whispered as footsteps drew near, seeming to know even before the intruders came into view who approached. “Why would they ever listen to me? I’m only the most sensible person here. But never mind that.”

When Bree looked up at Will’s face, she was astonished by the emotions she saw there—not fear as she anticipated, but something else entirely. Something expectant, almost nervous.

Even…excited.

Two more figures appeared in the kitchen: the tallest man Bree had ever seen and another whose face made her gasp.

Whose face was staggeringly similar to the one she had been gazing into since she ran away.

“Holy fuck,” Will breathed.

The man who had to be related to him by blood, and closely related at that, said, “Oh my god.”

Will’s hand went slack in hers, and Bree let go, freeing him to meet the man who could only be his brother—to be enveloped in such a fierce hug, it brought tears to her eyes.

“You’re alive,” the man choked, and Bree saw that he was weeping. “You’re alive.”

“Get off me, you asshole,” Will said, but he wasn’t letting go, either.

Colette turned her face away from the brothers. In a motion that was surely meant to be surreptitious, she brushed at her eyes, but Bree could not help but notice the glimmer of tears she was trying to banish. She caught Bree staring, however, and for a moment it seemed she might be annoyed to have been detected in her moment of vulnerability.

Then she smiled.

“I was so scared,” Will’s brother gasped. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Family, Bree thought, watching the tall man approach and clap a hand on Will’s shoulder. That’s what this was. Even if only Will and the man who seemed he might never let go were the only ones with shared lineage, even if it seemed impossible that Colette and the tall man could be related to the brothers at all, Bree knew she was looking not just at the inner circle of Iustitia aecum, but at a family—brethren who loved and cared for one another with no concern for the blood that flowed in their veins.

And perhaps, Bree thought, as Colette turned her beaming face back to the brothers and as Will pulled away from his brother and glanced back at her with such exhilaration on his face that it made her heart swell and glow…

Perhaps there was room in this family for one more.

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@starlit-hopes-and-dreams

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#lps the queen of lies #whump #whump story #whump writing #original writing #original story #original content #lady whump #guy whump #romance #angst #tw knife #....do i need to tw the hickey...

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