#Andrew: there’s blood on your shirt

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place. 

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange. 

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown. 

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter. 

Or, at least, none that mattered. 

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do. 

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play. 

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift. 

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether. 

And Peter never even asked why. 

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?” 

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.” 

And how true that must have been. 

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too. 

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night? 

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.” 

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?! 

 “Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?” 

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.” 

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter. 

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?  

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.” 

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.” 

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter. 

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.” 

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used. 

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar. 

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite. 

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.” 

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now. 

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?” 

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.” 

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too. 

“Did he?” 

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.” 

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's. 

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him. 

“Well did he have anything useful?” 

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter. 

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups. 

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0. 

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration. 

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear. 

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?” 

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation. 

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.” 

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite. 

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?” 

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.” 

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?” 

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch. 

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?” 

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him. 

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.” 

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.” 

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.” 

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth. 

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.” 

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?” 

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?” 

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.” 

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.” 

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now! 

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?” 

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-” 

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!” 

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.” 

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief. 

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded. 

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere. 

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now. 

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down… 

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.” 

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell. 

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered. 

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night? 

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.” 

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips. 

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world. 

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all. 

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone. 

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting. 

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway. 

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!” 

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!” 

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else. 

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?” 

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?” 

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.” 

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse. 

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully. 

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter. 

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!” 

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.” 

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?” 

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task. 

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway. 

“Mj happened.” 

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?” 

“Yep. That’s the one.” 

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.” 

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.” 

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease. 

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth. 

You sucked in a breath. 

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.” 

His brow snapped up. “What changed?” 

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours. 

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth. 

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.” 

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?” 

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance. 

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.” 

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-” 

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.” 

“I’m not pretending-” 

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.” 

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.” 

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest. 

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.” 

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?” 

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #no way home imagine #no way home fanfiction #no way home #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #spiderman imagines #tom!peter imagine #andrew!peter imagine #tobey!peter imagine #tom!peter x reader #andrew!peter x reader #tobey!peter x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #spiderman imagine #spiderman fic #spiderman fan fiction #dark spiderman #mcu #spiderman #spiderverse #tobey maguire #andrew garfield

[lookingformoondrop]

Hiiii! Thanks for writing for tcoal! If you have time can I get a yandere Andrew x reader? Thanks :)

Sure thing~ Once again, it seems highly unlikely that Ashley would let this obsession slide, so for the sake of the story, she's been bliped. Happy (late) Halloween! <3

Yandere! Andrew GravesxReader

TW: Yandere themes, possession, obsession, murder, implied kidnapping, intimidation, stalking, Andrew has a foul mouth (Y/N too), not proofread

♡1,438 WORDS♡

Andrew Graves has a mask.

It's a very well crafted mask that's used to blend in with his peers, his friends, his girlfriends, his parents, and even himself.

It covers the dark parts of Andrew that even himself is too terrified to look at.

For if you look into the abyss, it looks back at you.

But when he met you, swinging back and forth at the playground swing, he could've sworn he heard something crack.

You were beautiful.

As he watched you, with the breeze blowing at your cute overalls and baggy shirt, god, so pretty.

Your smile could open the gates of the heavens. Your laugh could make rainbows last, your tears would be prettier than diamonds, and you in his cage would bring him closer to your hell.

He couldn't help but imagine you as some sort of art. Something valuable that wasn't ever to be touched by another person. Only seen by him, just him.

His mask cracked the more he looked at you.

That day started a life-long obsession.

He would venture to that park a few more times after that, until eventually introducing himself to you. Naive you, who believed him to be a kind and stoic person.

You weren't wrong, but it was your fault for thinking that's all it was.

Even if Andrew never admitted it to himself, the thought of you being his and ONLY his made his heart flutter.

How when you breathed, when you walked, when you spoke, when you laughed, it would all belong to him.

Those thoughts kept him awake at night, even if a light blush would always dust his cheeks.

As time went on, he learned that his dakmfk thoughts that he pushed to the back of his mind would only resurface when a man talked to you. Even a father-figure was enough to put him in a foul mood.

Andrew didn't say anything, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his blood boil.

"Andy? Are you okay? You've been glaring at the ground even since we walked past Mr. Mancho."

"Why do you even like him? He's so...weird," Mr. Mancho was an innocent looking math teacher, one that always smiled at the students. And yet, Andrew hated the fact he smiled at Y/N...he didn't like that very much.

"Weird? He's been pretty nice to me...," You scratched your chin in deep thought, "do you not like Mr. Mancho?"

Andrew looked up at your doe eyes and heard something crack again,

"...he keeps looking at my things."

Andrew justified his growing hatred.

Even as you shrugged away his weird moods whenever you talked to cousins, friends, and teachers, Andrew never lacked as your friend.

Through every obstacle, he'd be there to help you jump over them. Although he'd complain about jumping in the first place, he'd never leave you.

He'd care about your issues, he'd care for your wounds, and he'd listen to your problems.

Especially when you were bullied.

The keyword here is 'were'.

While in school, a boy had groped you. When confronting him about what happened, his friend group laughed at you, claiming that you were just making shit up for attention.

This had made you cry when you got home.

Something that Andrew instantly knew about...somehow.

"Jesus Y/N, what happened?"

"S- Some boy touched me, and- h-he then said I was just making it up for attention! My friends all believed him a-and I," you broke down in sobs as your day was retold to your best friend.

As you continued to share your day with Andrew, he remained completely silent.

Several times throughout the call, you'd check if he was even still on. Still, when you called out for him, he'd answer with praise for trying to stand up for yourself, no matter what they had said to you.

You didn't know it then, but Andrew was squeezing his pack of cigarettes so hard that by the time he had gotten off the phone with you, they were all broken.

The next week, when you came to school, authorities were there questioning all the students. When they came to you, it was explained that the boy who groped you was killed and stuffed into his parent's basement freezer. Along with his friends, who all mysterious died in the forest, with some sort of satanic pentagon painted beneath their bodies.

You told the police you knew nothing, and all your friends who had doubted you came to you in an instant with apologies.

When you had told Andrew everything that happened he had only said,

"How strange."

As the years went on and you grew older, your friendship with Andrew always stayed strong.

Andrew would never say it, but when he kissed your cheek or patted your head, he was screaming,'I love you.'

But his dark thoughts, the ones he kept far back in his mind, would only double.

"Andy! Guess what happened today?"

"Hah?" Andrew turned his head from his spot on the couch.

"This cute boy at my job said he would love to take me out to dinner sometime!" You smiled brightly at the sly possibility that your bad streak with love would finally be over.

Every guy that ever walked into your life promptly bolted for the door the moment you opened it.

Andrew always told you that those guys just didn't appreciate you enough and that someone who bolted just like that was a quitter. Ashley?

But even then, you never gave up. Despite the long list of guys who ghosted you randomly.

"Oh...you said no, right? "

"What?" You walked over to Andrew from the door of the apartment. "Why would I say no...?"

Andrew looked at you with a dark shadow over his face, "Y/N, there are millions of creeps and perverts that are going to ask you out. They're only leering at you for your body."

You frowned at this notion,

"When you go to your next shift, tell him you don't want to anymore." Andrew thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

Andrew looked at your confused eyes.

"Just realized I have to get up early tomorrow to take out the trash."

When you went back to work the next day, he had quit just as suddenly.

Sad and upset over the millionth guy that ghosted and dumped you, you'd sulk to Andrew. Who would always make you warm cup of tea.

"Dumbass, you just keep picking quitters. It's not because of you."

"But Andy, I haven't had a boyfriend in years! At this point I'll die alone, probably with you right there to bury me with my hundreds of cats."

Andrew laughed at that and reached his arm around your shoulder.

"Just wait a little longer Y/N, I'm sure there's some jackass out there waiting for you."

"Yeah, right." You smiled at Andrew, "You're the only jackass I know, though. "

You leaned your head on Andrew's shoulder and began to fall to sleep rather quickly.

"The only...jackass...in my life... Andy, I'm sleepy."

Andrew took a sip of his tea and placed the cup far away from your drink.

"Rest Y/N. When you wake up, you'll have me right there besides you."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you're my best friend."

Andrew patted your hair as you drifted off to a drug-induced slumber.

"Yes, I'm your best friend," Andrew stared off to the distance as he thought about it.

"Soon, your only friend," He nodded at that statement, "Yes, the only friend you'll ever need."

His mask, although long forgotten, had finally cracked open.

You were his. Like a forbidden piece of art, it belonged to him. He was your painter, and as the painter, he declared you to be covered up. Only his retinas were allowed to peer at you.

It's your fault he went through all this effort to keep you safe. He's obligated as the painter to keep his art safe from dirty influences.

He's mildly disappointed in you whenever you speak to another man, but it's okay. It's his job after all to stalk the said man and hack his tongue off for even going to speak to you.

No matter how many guys he has to threaten, no matter how many people he's had to hack at, no matter how many people he's had to kidnap, it wasn't his fault.

It's yours.

All the blame is on his sweet, naive, poor, Y/N.

Still as innocent the day he found you at the playground.

"Still mine..." He mumbled as he stared at your sleeping face.

"Only mine."

Thanks for the ask!<3

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves x reader #andy graves x reader #andrew graves #andy graves #x reader #reader insert #self insert #tcoaal #not proofread #happy halloween #ashley graves #yandere Andrew graves #yandere #obsession #possesive love #yandere andy graves #yandere x reader #i need some chocolate milk #readers bring me chocolate milk pls

[bouncybongfairy]

Study Buddies

Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Fem Reader

Summary: Peter Parker is your neighbor and, to put it bluntly, you've had a thing for him since moving in. One night, Peter discovers you're doing a report on the T. fabricii spider. This species is known for bounding and biting the female before sex. Peter decides to give you a live demonstration of this.

Word Count: 2.5k+

TW: Rough Sex, Blood Kink, Bondage, Nasty Smut.

Go to reference blog for smut: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

To say you somewhat keep an eye on the sad man who lives across from you would be an understatement. Part of you felt like it was wrong to invade anyone’s privacy in such a way; the other side didn’t share these same morals. Living on your own, for the first time at 19 was really overwhelming. When you first caught a glimpse of him through the window above your bed, while reading After We Collied by Anna Todd. It had been a long day, School 9:00 am to 12:30 pm then work from 1:00 pm to 9:00 pm. Not to mention the homework and reading assignments from your professors. Even though you had a stack of homework needing attention you were procrastinating by reading. Feeling your stomach tightening and a hot blush creep onto your face. Then your ears started burning, which made you set down the book and get a glass of water. You saw him through the window as you walked back into the bedroom. He was taking his shirt off, setting his hands on his desk, and letting his head low. Either he was covered in a thin layer of sweat or water from the shower covered his body. You could see every muscle in his back and arms under his skin, completely flexed like he was in pain. His hair was brown and shaggy, flopping in front of his face, covering his eyes and nose. Cuts and bruises were scattered around his body, his mouth was hung open. Saliva was making his pink bottom lip glisten from the glow of the laptop on his desk. He was inspecting his own body, looking at all the cuts and abrasions. Out of nowhere, he moves to look directly at your window, which makes you drop onto the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Your cat was so spooked, he attempted to run under the bed but unfortunately his rolls prevented him from doing so. You crawled over and began soothing him. 

“You don’t think he saw me right?” you asked as you gave him kisses between his ears. You were really hoping he didn’t see you, your hair was wrapped up in a towel for god sakes.

Standing up slowly, you checked to see if he was still there. When you checked, the lights in the bedroom were cut off making it impossible to see anything. After turning the T.V on and getting comfortable in bed again, you realize you can’t stop thinking about him. His body was so long and lanky, yet his muscles were still so defined and toned. You clear off your bed, and try to act like seeing your neighbor indisposed isn't affecting you. The next morning, you’d completely forgotten about last night's events. In fact, you were feeling quite chipper, immediately filling the cat's bowl. It was Friday and you couldn't be more excited to sit around and rot for the weekend. You were currently working at a bug museum that was a couple hours away from your college. It was super convenient not only distance wise but you loved the job. Sure the kids could get sticky and annoying but you liked working with all the insects. Nobody could waterboard this out of you but ever since you started working there, you’d become quite sweet on Spider-Man. It didn’t take long for you to put the pieces of the puzzle together to figure out his identity. Sometimes as you unlocked the door to the apartment building, you’d see a single web hanging from his window. Other times, you’d hear police sirens and then you’d hear the loud screeching of a heavy fire escape window open then close. You started keeping notes of all these little things. Currently being the manager of the Spider section of the museum, it gave you an excuse to research till your fingers bled. Trying to figure out what species of spider he could be. A theory you were itching to prove true or false, was that Spider-Man didn’t have naturally occurring webs but rather man made. A healthy spider doesn’t normally have a limit to the silk it can produce. When you watched him fight, he would eventually stop using his webs and rely more on crawling or jumping. You had a notebook where you noted all these little observations and ideas. 

After taking the subway to school, you rushed to get to your lecture on time. Calculus and Zoology were the last two classes of the week. Many of your peers had dropped the class by this point but that didn’t bother you one bit. It only meant more attention for you, not to mention the teachers became less… picky when it came to assignments. Hell there were times when you thought your English professor used your class as a rant session. You were praying the professors would take it easy on the class, you know… get into that Friday spirit a little early; they didn’t. As pitiful as it was to admit you were actually looking forward to your Zoology assignment; a research paper of an animal of your choice. As sad as that sounded, you really were excited about it, at this point it was like a special interest. 

Work was quite slow, only a couple people wandered in and left once they realized it wasn’t a themed cafe. This made you chuckle every time before turning back to your laptop. Honestly, you hated it a lot more than it was slow. When it was busy, it distracted you from being on your feet for 8 hours. Before leaving, you grabbed a book on the spider you chose for your report: Thanatus fabricii. The owner ended up closing early for the day which you didn’t mind at all. Practically skipping to the taxi you’d just hailed down. It was coming down so hard that you were practically soaked by the time you made it inside the building. Hair dripping and makeup beginning to feel sticky. It took you a couple times to shove the door open due to the weather making them expand and warp. Fat-Boy came and greeted you while opening the door. Meowing like he’s never eaten before in his life. You giggled at his nervous pacing while scooping a couple cups into his bowl. Setting your bags on the counter and pulling out your laptop, book and notebooks, typing at the rough draft of your essay. Suddenly Fat-Boy began clawing at the bedroom door which prompted you to go investigate. Walking into your bedroom and opening the door you shiver from how cold the air is. After flicking the lights on, you immediately notice the window was open. You rush over to close it, luckily there wasn’t too much water damage from the rain. Your stomach was doing summer salts, especially because you know it was closed before you left. Running back into the kitchen, trying to find a knife to arm yourself with. You could practically hear your heart beating in your ears. Suddenly something drops from the ceiling, causing you to scream. Immediately you recognized him as Peter, eyes dark and brows furrowed. He slowly started moving closer, you were frozen in fear. In complete shock, your flight or fight reflex is fully engaged. You thought he was coming towards you but instead, he went over to your computer and notes. Every once in a while his eyes would widen or he would chuckle. As scared as you were, you couldn’t help but take in all his little details. The cuts on his face or the bruising under his eyes. 

“I knew you were a horny little freak but I didn’t realize how nasty you really were,” he said, breaking you out of the dissociation you fell into. Still frozen in fear, you held up the knife a little higher, hands still shaking. 

“You’ve been studying me?” he asked, using a web to take the knife from your grip.

“I’m honestly impressed. I originally thought you were watching me because you wanted proof of my identity. I didn’t realize you were stalking me because of an infatuation,” he said, coming closer. 

You booked it, running towards the front door attempting to pry it open. Once you finally manage to rip it open, a web flies past you. Slamming the door closed with a loud bang. Immediately you run to the bedroom, knowing the fire escape is there. By the time you reached the window, he was already right behind you. He grabbed your arm and turned you around so you were facing him. His grip was strong, stone locked onto both arms. This was the first time you’d ever gotten a good look at his face. He looked like he was fraying at the edges. Eyes with pupils so wide they looked black, both eyebrows had splits in them. Bruising around his eyes and spread around his face. 

“I saw you’re doing a report on the T. fabricii spider, have you finished your research about how they mate?” he asked, you just stared at him. Ashamed that you were finding this erotic. The entire time you’d been watching him, he’d been doing the same. Made you feel inferior, like you weren’t as slick as you once thought. He wasn’t pleased with your silence and shook you a little to break you out of that trance. 

“No,” you said weakly, he let go of one of your arms and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. 

“They bite and bound the females before mating to avoid being eaten. Doesn’t that seem… efficient,” he said chuckling slightly. 

You were unsure of how to react, his energy becoming harder and harder to read. Originally you thought he only had violent intentions due to him discovering your infatuation. Knowing that his intentions were more sexual made you feel less stressed or scared. He let go of your arms and moved his hands to your waist then to your hips. You shivered as goosebumps began to prickle along your skin. Lowering his head a bit, he runs his lips over your ear and down your neck. Your back arches involuntarily, drawing a deep breath in from the sensation. 

“I like touch starved whores,” he growled into your ear, picking you up and using his body to press you against the wall, “getting wet from the littlest things, like me breathing down your neck or gripping your arm a little too tight,” he said into your ear. 

Not being able to take the build-up anymore, you smash your lips against his. The kiss was rough, continuously biting and nipping at your lip. Your mouth started to taste metallic, making you pull away. He didn’t let you, tangling his fist in your hair. Moving the two of you from the wall to the bed. The way he picked you up and threw you around made you feel weightless. Completely at the mercy of his strength, you welcomed it nervously. Teeth chattering and hands shaking, he was sucking hickies on your neck to the point where it was hurting. Starting to squirm a bit, he secures your wrists to the head board with webbing. Doing the same to your feet, completely paralyzing you. Instead of pulling your clothes off he rips them from your body. His strength and pure brute force was daunting, shredding fabric like it was paper. After undressing himself, he crawls back up. You couldn’t hold back a couple gasps and moans, feeling the tip of his length trace up your leg then inner thigh. He looked angry and focused solely on you. He rested his elbows by your ears, not caring that he was pulling the fuck out of your hair. This caused you to squirm even more, in reaction to this he sank his teeth into your shoulder. 

You cried out in pain as he slowly started adding more pressure to his bite. The hot burning sensation causes more pleasure than it should. Trying to aid the aching feeling from the lack of touch, you rub your thighs together. Spread your wetness all over your thighs. Becoming irritated with your lack of patients, he uses his knees to separate your legs. Letting go of your shoulder to sink his teeth into your neck. Now biting harder and more often; moving from your neck to your chest and other shoulder. You were beginning to foggy, face bright red and flushed. Once he was satisfied with his work, he turned his attention back to you. Grabbing you by the jaw to see the state of you. He practically moaned when seeing how glazed over your eyes were. Rubbing his shaft in between your folds, broke you out of this trance. Bucking your hips up, trying to create more friction between the two of you. Not liking how much control you had over your movements, he began binding you up tighter to the bed. Once he was confident in your restriction, he started pushing himself inside you. He was grunting and cursing under his breath, your legs being tied together making you that much tighter. He was big and you could feel yourself stretch around him. He buried his face into your shoulder, practically panting as he fucked in and out of you. The overstimulation being caused by the pain and pleasure simultaneously was driving you crazy. His arms were wrapped around your neck, almost suffocating you as he pounded frantically. Your moans and cries were strangled and garbled. A mixture of sweat and tears were running down your face. Being completely bound and restricted was making your stomach cramp with frustration. Unable to touch him or not being able to match his energy. 

He slowed down for a second and turned to make eye contact with you. His mouth was covered in blood from how often and forcefully he was biting you. Mouth hanging open and his face glistened in sweat. He catches your lips with his, indicating a sloppy kiss. He’s completely slowed his thrusts down to an agonizing pace. All your frustration and over stimulation coming to a head, you bite down on his lip as hard as you can. He pulls his head back and looks down at you with a shocked expression. 

“Faster,” you beg, accidentally spitting a bit of blood onto his face. He smirks down at you, before wrapping his hands around your neck. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re in any position to be making demands,” He growled at you before slamming his dick inside you. 

He was now using his hands around your throat to support his weight. It didn’t matter to you because he was now pounding into you at full force. Almost showing that he was as frantic to reach his orgasm as you were. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting your body go limp. Sucking in strangled breaths, he paid no regard to this to catch up at his current pace. You were getting close, your walls pulsating around him. Your pussy was contracting around him as you came. Black dots appear in your vision as you ride out that high. Seeing and feeling you cum was enough to send him over the edge. Rutting and spurting into you, completely blissed out as he came. Immediately after he was done he didn’t bother letting you free from the webbing. You were too exhausted and braindead to care.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker rough smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #andrew garfeild x reader #rough smut #blood k!nk #spider man x reader #spider man x you #spider man smut #andrew garfeild smut

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

We can have Andrew and Ashley (separately) dating reader who is a singer/guitarist in a Punk rock band, who has a somewhat cynical, indifferent personality but is quite kind when you get to know her.

But there is a problem, she is possessed by a demon and needs to kill or drink human blood to survive (just like that movie Jennifer Body feat. Megan Fox)

Friggin love Jennifer’s Body- hell yeah anon!

Ashley and Andrew Graves x Possessed Punk Rock!Reader

Andrew Graves

You met Andrew after he went to watch your band play. He came up to you after the show and started up a conversation with you.

You were the best part of the band in his personal opinion

You’d heard this all before, and like always you went along to get on his good graces

Honestly- you had full intention of eating him until he started some playful banter with you

You both just bounced off of each other so well

“Alright, so- it’s the zombie apocalypse and you have to team up with 2 other people at this bar.” Andrew was leaning against the bar, he phrased it like such a serious question, “Who you picking?”

“Hmmmm…” you hummed, turning your attention to the cluster of people, “Probably that guy-“ you nod towards one muscly frat dude chatting with his equally muscular friends, “He looks like he could punch some zombies. Dumb and fearless, ya know?”

Andrew chuckled, “Ahhh, so you’re into beefy dudes, huh?”

You gave him a deadpan stare before rolling your eyes and smirking a little, “Nah, if anything he’d be a sacrifice to the undead horde. I’m more into sickly looking emo dudes.”

A small blush painted Andrew’s cheeks, he turned to look at the crowd, “Soooo- does that mean I’m on your apocalypse team?”

“Not in the slightest,” you leant back on the bar stool, “It’s about survival, and no offense hun- but you’re usually the first to die in those kinds of movies.”

Andrew dramatically clutched his chest, giving a faux harmed expression. You playfully shove him to wipe the look off his face. He laughed a little as he sat back up in his stool.

“Alright, alright-“ you wave your hand towards him, “You can join my apocalypse team. We’ll team up to sacrifice the big dude.”

“You’re too kind.”

He was fun to talk to, what can ya say?

You ended up feasting on that frat bro after Andrew left- but not without giving you his number

You two hung out a bit after that- and Andrew became a regular at your shows

You even started inviting him to rehearsals to sit and watch

You make him a shirt with the band’s name on it as a joke- but he wears it constantly.

He’s a dork, but soon enough…he becomes your dork <3

Which is why you were nervous to tell him the truth about you

“….I’m sorry you’re what?”

You winced at his words. There- was no easy way of telling him this, but- you don’t know. It feels like the right thing to inform your partner you’re actually possessed by a demon and crave human flesh and blood.

“I’m possessed by a demon,” You turn away from his, rubbing your arm anxiously, “It- happened when I was 17. Some fucks tried to offer me as a sacrifice to a demon to make them famous and- well, now we know the reason virgins are sacrificed for demon deals.”

Andrew blinked, and a silence fell between you two. He turned away from you, his eyes fixed on the ground,

“….you know my sister is friends with a demon.”

You scrunched up your nose in confusion, turning to give him a look of “What the fuck?”

He held his hands up defensively, “Hey I don’t know! What else was I supposed to say?!”

“I don’t know!” You threw a throw pillow at him, “You’re the first person I’ve told!”

Andrew caught the pillow, placing it gingerly on his lap, “Well- I’m not a stranger to this whole…demon stuff. Can’t say I’ve dated one though…”

Your eyes widened. You looked at him in disbelief, “You- still want to date me?”

“Well- yeah.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t obvious, “You’re not gonna eat me- I’d assume at least.”

“Nah,” you gave him a small smirk, “Not enough meat on ya.”

You received a pillow to the face in response to that. You broke out into soft laughter, Andrew shortly joining in. This…went better than you thought it would.

From then on Andrew helped you with finding food. He’d scan for potential meals at your shows and direct you to them after.

He seems way too experienced in this sort of thing

Ashley Graves

That relatable moment when you’re about to feast on this guy, but this cute goth chick was about to sacrifice him to a whole other demon <3

After a show you had planned on following this couple and devouring them both- you were really hungry

Low and behold- the girl led her date into the woods and summoned a whole ass demon to take his soul

She noticed your presence as she was getting ready to move the body and-

“….sup.”

She said that as if trying to move the soulless body of a grown ass man in the middle of the woods was the most normal thing in the world. You were- dumbfounded honestly. Apparently you were staring for too long, as the woman dropped the corpse’s arms and crossed her own,

“You gonna scream- or are we going to be chill about this?” She tapped her foot as she glared at you, “Don’t make me offer another soul to my friend.”

“Ha! Good luck with that-“ you stepped out of the bushes, shaking off any leaves that stuck to your pants, “Your friend would just be confused why you’re offering them their own kind.”

She looked you up and down, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Yeah- look. I’m possessed- and I was following you and that boy toy of yours to have some dinner.” You pointed to the corpse between you two, “So I’ll do you a favor and get rid of this body for you.”

The woman rubbed her chin, looking down at the body. She then grinned deviously, “Hmmm…you mind if I join you?”

Your eyes widened. Was- she being serious? Did she want to chow down on this guy with you?

Apparently she could notice your confusion and shrugged, “Well I was going to eat him anyway. Was thinking of grilling him- some salt, oregano, paprika as seasoning. Help me carry him and you’ve got yourself a 5 star meal.”

This has to be the most insane woman you’ve ever met. Is this what love feels like?

“Sure thing-“ you reach down, hoisting the man’s arm around your shoulder, “Names Y/N.”

“Ashley Graves.” Ashley made no effort to help you carry the body, just leading you along as your struggled.

And thus started a beautiful friendship!

Ashley sacrifices a soul, you two eat the soulless body. Win-Win!

As you hang out more outside of your hunts, Ashley learns about your band

She’s not happy that you have friends outside of her, but she goes to your show anyway

She claimed that everyone sucked except for you

“We should just eat them,” Ashley suggested, her chin rested on your shoulder.

You glance at her before speaking, “No can do- I’m not eating my band mates.”

“Fine-“ she huffed, shoving you away from her, “Then I will!”

“Ashley- No-“ you groan, turning around to look at the currently pouting woman, “Look, I have a life outside of you ya know- don’t like it, don’t come to the shows. Nothing wrong with keeping things professional between us.”

Ashley went quiet at that. She hugged herself, turning away from you.

“…what if I don’t want to be professional?” She muttered, just loud enough for you to catch.

You blinked down at her, “You- what?”

“We get each other! I want to keep doing this, and I don’t want those ‘bandmates’ getting in the way.” She glared up at you, “You…You like me too, right?”

You did. You’d be lying if you didn’t find her general unhinged-ness hot, but you couldn’t kill your band.

“Hey, look-“ your voice went soft as you took Ashley’s hands into your own, “I…like you too Ashley, but we’re not eating my band. If I’ve been ignoring you for them, I’ll- cancel rehearsal tomorrow so we can go do something. Just us. Sound good?”

A small smile formed on Ashley’s face as she nodded, “Yeah…that’d be great.”

You may be the possessed one here, but Ashley Graves is a whole other level

#the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #andrew graves #andrew graves x reader #ashley graves x reader #x reader

[cobrakaisb]

she's my new dream

summary: in a house in suburban connecticut, may castellan spends her days making peanut butter sandwiches, burnt cookies, and red kool-aid; luke spends his days at camp half-blood, dreaming of his future, an installment in the luke & angel series 

word count: 1.32k

featuring: fluff with a hint of angst? or angst with a hint of fluff? you guys decide, luke’s pov!!, set pre tlt!

song lyrics at the end: i want to write you a song by one direction

italics = may castellan flashbacks, everything else = current/luke’s daydreams

the house with the blue siding and white picket fence was located on the corner of an intersection. it was surrounded by serenity, shrouded from view. most people living there ignored it; they all heard the stories about its inhabitants, or inhabitant rather. the crazy lady, who’s son went missing at nine years old. the woman who spends her days waiting for him to return, who genuinely believes that every boy in the neighborhood is her son. sometimes, when the air is hot and humid, they can smell the burnt chocolate and see the thick, gray smoke floating out the kitchen window. sometimes, when the children are riding up and down the streets on their bikes, they can hear her calling. she repeats the same name, like a prayer. luke…luke…luke

“luke,” you snap, shaking his shoulder vigorously. he jolts awake, shooting upright in his bunk. he takes a deep breath, hands fisting at the white sheets. his head whips around, back and forth. he’s trying to pinpoint the smell of burnt cookies that seems to linger in his nose because he knows she’s not here. 

“luke, hey,” you say, calling his attention. seeing you, in your neon orange shirt, grounds him. he’s not at his mother’s house, he’s in cabin eleven at camp half-blood with you perched on the side of his bed. he meets your gaze, relief flooding his brown eyes. “sorry,” he mumbles. “bad dream?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively. he nods, and you don’t push him further than that, simply tracing the veins in his hands, which are still gripping at the sheets. he relaxes under your touch, finally letting go of the fabric.

the tension in his shoulders fade at the sight of your gentle smile. he feels one take over his own face, and he intertwines his fingers with yours. “everything okay?” he asks, looking at you. you shrug your shoulders, a carefree smile on your face despite the worry in your eyes. “just missing you,” you reply sheepishly, suddenly transfixed by a chip in his bed frame. luke smiles at that, his eyes full of mischief and arrogance. “oh really?” he teases, leaning his chin on your shoulder, so that his lips ghost against the shell of your ear when he speaks. you giggle at the ticklish sensation of his breath on your skin, shoving him back with a hand on his chest. “don’t be weird about it,” you say, standing up from his bed. “the only one being weird about it is you angel.”   

you roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in disbelief. “i came here to check on you, out of the kindness in my heart, and this is what i get? unbelievable castellan,” you reply, leaning down so that your arms can wrap around his neck. luke grins at your words, dimples indenting his cheeks. “you love it,” he answers, leaning his forehead against yours. the two of you stay there for a moment, basking in the close proximity and quiet atmosphere of the hermes cabin. 

the door slams open, causing you to spring apart. chris storms into the cabin, a handful of other hermes boys following him. they’re all laughing and shoving each other, but one of them freezes when he notices you and luke. “thought you were sick castellan?” he teases, and the group laughs at luke’s red cheeks. “shut up andrew,” he mumbles, pushing the comforter off as he finally gets out of bed. his hand comes to rest on the small of your back as he ushers you out the door. “see you guys later,” chris calls. luke answers for the both of you with a middle finger. 

“that’s not my son’s fate,” she shrieks, vigorously shaking her head. the older girl grimaces at her words, but the younger one is confused, opting to hide behind the raven haired girl instead of facing the older woman. he stands between the woman and the girls, fists clenched at his sides. he wants to reach out, comfort her, but he knows there’s no hope when she’s having one of her episodes. he doesn’t understand what she’s saying, but he has a good enough idea. he lets his eyes drift to the other side of the kitchen, where he sees a plate with a sandwich and a glass of red kool-aid.

luke watches from across the dining pavilion as you cut up the food for a younger camper. they’re blabbing away about something to you, and the whole time you’re nodding your head and smiling, hanging on to each and every word. he sees your lips moving on occasion, adding something to the story the young demigod is telling you. for a moment, he's transported through time, standing in the kitchen of a house that he doesn’t recognize. there are two young children sitting at the table, watching as you make them a sandwich. they are clearly carbon copies of the two of you, and they eagerly take the plates from your hands when you’re done making them lunch. he looks at the food one more time, and realizes that the two kids are eating peanut butter sandwiches. just like him. 

“it’s our turn. get up,” chris says, shoving luke’s shoulder as he walks towards the giant firepit in the middle. luke grunts, disappointed that he couldn’t continue living out his daydream, but he stands up without a second thought. his brown eyes meet your intense stare from across the hall, and he’s met with a small smile that makes his heart burst. for the first time in a long time, he actually prays to a god, begging for his daydreams to become a reality. 

his shoulders are tense, back rigid, as he sits at the dining room table. his eyes dart across the room, following the woman’s every step. she stops in front of him, placing a sandwich and glass down on the table. “eat your lunch baby,” she mumbles, fingers brushing his black curls away from his forehead. he gulps, nodding his head as opposed to speaking. she’s present, but her eyes are in a far off place, seeing things he can’t understand while her ears listen to voices that aren’t really there. he’s waiting for an episode to break out; he’s waiting for his chance to leave.

“what if we just left camp?” luke asks, turning so that he’s looking at you instead of the stars. you laugh breathily at his words, “where would we go?” he doesn’t answer, instead opting to take the moment to look into your pretty eyes, shining with mirth. you blink, lashes resting on your cheeks. he can’t help but think that you look ethereal in the moonlight. “anywhere,” he finally answers, “as long as i’m with you.” you smile at his words, turning so that you're laying on your side, completely facing him. “we could escape to the countryside,” you say, an adrift look in your eyes as your mind wanders. luke’s does too…

a small house in the countryside, with just enough room for your little family. he sees the two children, the ones from before, running around in the grassy terrain. they’re laughing and giggling, completely carefree and unaware of the struggles their parents faced. he’s sitting on a wooden swing, with his arms wrapped around your shoulder. your back is to him, feet curled up to your chest as you read a book. it’s old and well-loved, just like the two of you, but he knows better than to disturb your reading. he can hear the children yelling, begging for luke to join them in their games. “they’re calling for you angel,” you whisper, still entranced by the words on the page. he hums, kissing your shoulder as he gets up from the swing, leaving the veranda. everything is peaceful.  

everything i need i get from you // and giving back is all i wanna do

#luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #pjo luke #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff #cobrakaisb writing

[sarawritestories]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Life isn't worth living without your mate by your side.

A/N: I'm making my angsty mood everyone else's problem. 😘 I also got misty eyed writing this

Content Warning: PLEASE READ CAUTIOUSLY Suicidal Ideation, Self Harm, suicide attempt, Death of a Main Character. Grief

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Title inspired by this song:

You couldn't escape him. Every where you turn, it was as though he was there. His scent, his clothes, his weapons it was suffocating. Cruel. Two years. You only had two years with Cassian before he fell in battle. Two years with your mate.

How cruel the mother was two years of stolen kisses, late night snacks, morning runs, and his constant need to have his arms around you. With him, you were safe, loved, and cared for.

You had begged him not to leave to stay home with you. He simply pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I promise to come home to you, Sweetheart." You sobbed as he pressed his lips to your and then kissed your tears away, "I am the General of the Night Courts armies. I have been to many battles and have always come home. I will come home to you sweet girl." Another soft kiss, "I love you."

With a wobbly lip, "And I love you. Be safe." You hand him the necklace that he gave you for solstice of an eight pointed star. He wrapped the chain around his neck and took to the skies.

When Rhys and Azriel returned, your eyes searched everywhere for flashes of red. Only to notice Cassian's brothers had streaks on their mud ridden and bloodied faces from where they shed their cheers. It was Rhys who held out his hand, and you hesitantly took it. He held your palm up and placed something cold in it when he moved his hand, the eight pointed star necklace caked in dirt, and blood stared back at you. Shock riddled your body as Rhys said in your mind, I'm so sorry, Darling

Shaking your head, you clung the necklace to your chest. You found it difficult to breathe as you reached through the bond. Calling out for him, only to find the other side empty. Hollow. Hands were on you as you collapsed to the floor and sobs overtook your body. Still pushing love down the bond, only to be met with cold, dark air where his warmth and love used to be. You screamed, "Cassian!" Over and over until your voice became dry and you ended up dehydrated.

Az scooped you in his arms and brought you to your bed where the faint scent of Cassian remained and a fresh wave of tears came. What if the smell faded? Would your memories of his smile, his eyes, his long, onyx hair be gone too. Az just sat and held your hand until your sobs turned into hiccups and exhaustion pulled you into sleep.

After two months, you were finding it hard to get out of bed. The necklace tucked to your chest, wearing one of his shirts, and you still reached out to the dulled golden string. You hoped that it was a bad dream.

Rhys and Az would alternate taking care of you, making sure you were fed and made sure you stayed hydrated they had a schedule and a pattern that you picked up on.

You had overheard them talking about trying to get you out and into society again. You barely saw the point, your mate was ripped away from you, and now, colors were dull, music fell flat, nothing was worth seeing without Cassian.

You sat up from your bed and sighed, and you wanted him hear in your arms in. You wished that he would appear again. You hung your head low because you knew that was wishful thinking and that he would never come back.

You pulled something out of the dresser on his side, trying to fight the tears as a fresh wave of his leather and Sandalwood scent flooded your nose. You headed to your bathroom, placing the Star pendant around your neck. Not noticing the tendril of black watching your movements. You whispered to the void, "Az, Rhys, Please forgive me. Mother, please take me home to my mate."

You took the knife, and pressed it to your skin, Az and Rhys hadn't noticed the faebane you stole from Rhys' office that you took in concentrated doses to slow your healing. You watched as the blood pooled against your wrist as you dug the blade deeper to drag down.

You heard the door slamming open and hurried footsteps to the bathroom, "Y/N!" Az shouted as he grabbed the knife from your hand had a shadow bring him a towel to wrap around the wound. He pressed your back to his chest and held you close whispering words your couldn't distinguish in your ear.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times and anger bubbled over. You began to thrash in his arms his strength out matched yours. "You bastard, I wanted to go home to my mate! I don't want to be here without him! Why would you do that? Let me die!" Your screams turned into cries, "I just want to die."

Rhys walked to face you, tears streaking his own face. "Darling. He wouldn't want that for you."

You sobs continued, "What about what I want?" Your voice cracked. You leaned your head back against Az shoulders. "Why did the mother have me meet my mate only to take him away. I only had two years. You both had centuries." The cries turned to whimpers, "It's not fair." Az began to rub soothing patters around your waist. "I wanted more time."

The two males had no words, so they both just sat on the floor with you and let you sob. Your constant murmuring of time stolen and wanting to be with Cassian.

And once you had cried yourself to sleep, did Az and Rhys have madja heal your arm and place you in Az's bed, both agreeing that you were not to be left alone for a while. The two males watched you sleep with a crease between your brows.

And even in your sleep, you tugged on the fading gold thread. Never knowing that somewhere in the afterlife, The General was desperately tugging back.

#tw sui ideation #no happy ending #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian angst #Spotify

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 22

PREVIOUS

Y’know how sometimes you have something that you need to do or something that you know is going to happen but you just keep…putting it off? Like you know at some point it is going to happen but you put it off over and over and over and over again? You’re getting increasingly anxious every time you put it off because you know it has to get done but you also know that the longer you wait the worse it is going to get. Finally, FINALLY, the anxiety is just a little too much and you end up having to deal with it.

You finally deal with it and the whole ordeal takes maybe five minutes tops and it was in no way shape or form worth the level of anxiety that you put yourself through. Like you worried about this for a good and long while and it wasn’t even that bad?

That is currently how FF feels about being stabbed by Andrew Minyard.

This is what he was so worried about that he had lost sleep, had nightmares, had lost weight, and had exacerbated his stress ulcers over.

Getting stabbed wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he had thought it was going to be. Maybe it was the fact that it was just a single stab wound instead of the Psycho levels that he had been imagining (Wow, showers were going to be so much less stressful now that he didn’t have to confirm Andrew Minyard’s location before triple checking the lock). Maybe it was the fact that he is PUMPED full of adrenaline from his fights against Jackson and Romero but the stab wound didn’t even really hurt at the moment.

This isn’t even the worse thing that had happened to him this year!

That honor still goes to the joint winners of when his Step Family and mother found out that he had a full-ride to Palmetto and when he had tripped up the same step on the stairs at school three times in a row as people watched and laughed.

(Maybe also the solitary congratulations from his Grandma in regards to his graduation but FF doesn’t let himself think about that, won’t think about it.)

He wouldn’t necessarily call being in a state of ‘stabbed’ a pleasant time but Andrew was being so NICE about it.

“Stop trying to sit up you fucking idiot!” Andrew shouts at him.

Well….Andrew’s version of nice.

(This is the same version of nice that he had misunderstood for months at this point. Maybe FF is just enough in shock from the stab wound in his stomach that he’s starting to grasp the basics in the difficult language of Andrew Minyard’s niceness.)

Andrew had gotten off the phone with 911 and then started pulling off his own jacket before draping it over FF’s upper body, wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear, and then Andrew started to apply pressure to his stomach wound.

Ow.

That is not a great feeling. This stabbing may eke out past the great triple trip of March 2010.

“No, take back your jacket. You’ll get cold if you don’t have it on.” FF argues because his own jacket is barely doing the job. Maybe it’s the cold pavement of the alley, maybe it’s the blood loss, or maybe it’s the cooling sweat he’d worked up but he is shivering pretty badly.

A thought occurs to him as he feels the weird wet stickiness of his own blood sticking to Nicky’s shirt. “Can you help me get my jacket off?” He asks looking pleadingly at Andrew, “It’s my dad’s. I don’t wanna mess it up with my blood.” He clarifies when Andrew looks at him like he’s a lunatic.

Except his second call must connect right then because Andrew’s answer is non-sensical to what FF had asked, “Neil, let Roland know the police and ambulances are en route.” There’s a brief pause and the pressure against his stomach increases as a muscle in Andrew’s jaw jumps. “Smith got stabbed.” He says and he looks angry, angrier than FF had ever seen Andrew when he’s talking to Captain Neil. There is another pause, more than likely Neil saying something or asking a question, “No, it wasn’t them.” Andrew grits out and the pressure on FF’s stomach hurts, “Just get out here, I need help with smith and making sure these two assholes don’t go anywhere before the police come and grab them.” He says before he pulls one hand away from Smith’s stomach (wow he really is bleeding isn’t he?) to hang up the phone.

Andrew’s gaze turns back to him fully, “You’re not moving an inch Smith, your jacket can be cleaned.” He hisses. “Now stay still and don’t fall asleep.” He orders.

Andrew seems stressed so FF complies. He can’t help but notice how Andrew’s hands seem to be shaking as the press down on his stomach. He kind of wishes he had a pillow or something for his head because he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. Andrew’s jacket would be safer from his blood if it was a pillow instead of a blanket. Still, FF would sooner die than spit on any of Andrew’s current efforts to make him more comfortable.

He looks at the knife sticking out of his stomach. Well, he might die regardless of whether or not he spits on Andrew’s efforts.

He needs to take his mind off this.

“Should we take it out and pretend the Dundee knife stabbed me instead??” FF asks letting his mind go to the first thought in his head so that he could be distracted from his own mortality. “I think it’s still under the dumpster over there.” He moves to point one of his hands towards where the knife had remained throughout this entire ordeal.

Andrew’s knee pinned his arm before he could move it, “Stop moving Smith.” Andrew reminded him before moving his knee. “We have to leave the knife in. You’ll bleed to death otherwise.” Andrew reminds.

“I guess that’s true, so do we just say that Romero got a handle on your knife and stabbed me?” He asks fighting his own shivers since he’s a little worried that any shaking on his part would just make the stab wound worse.

“I stabbed you Smith.” Andrew says looking at him with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, I know,” FF agrees, “but we’re not going to say THAT to the cops.” He says and shock really is one HELL of a drug because he thinks he might have actually given Andrew Minyard an incredulous look with his atrophied face muscles. It’s either Shock or the knowledge that even if he irritates Andrew, what’s Andrew going to do about it?

STAB HIM?

“You’re going to lie to the cops?” Andrew asks, “I STABBED you Smith.” Andrew repeats.

“Yeah, I know!” FF repeats back, “You stabbed me on ACCIDENT.” FF makes sure to use the same intonation that Andrew had used to emphasize the word Stabbed. “Jackson wanted to stab me on PURPOSE. You saw that knife Andrew.” He tries to gesture towards the knife again but again Andrew’s knee pinned his hand.

He could use his other one but the reminder to stay still is enough.

“I still stabbed you.” Andrew says removing his knee again when it’s clear that FF wasn’t going to try and gesture again.

“Well, if I was going to get stabbed by anyone, I guess I’m glad my first time was with you.” Andrew let’s out a bark of a laugh that sounds more like it was punched out of him than anything, “Honestly, I don’t think Jackson would have given me his jacket afterwards or try and help me keep my blood in my body.” He says and it feels like a victory (not a both hands in the air victory cry level victory but it was close) when Andrew’s face settled into one of faint amusement.

“Probably not.” Andrew agreed, “He doesn’t seem big on Aftercare.” He says.

FF doesn’t know what that means but nods like he does, “So, Romero got a hold of your knife during our tussle and he’s the one who stabbed me. Okay? That’s the story I’m going to stick with no matter who asks me.” He looks Andrew in the eye.

“Alright Smith,” one of Andrew’s hands leaves his stomach and clasps around his shoulder and FF can’t help but notice how neither of Andrew’s hands are shaking anymore. “We can lie to the police.” He squeezes FF’s shoulder.

“Nice.” He says and lets his head fall back onto the concrete. He hears a siren in the distance and hopes it’s coming for him.

They sit in silence for maybe 30 seconds before the door slams open and only Andrew’s hands on his stomach and shoulder keep him from shooting straight up in a panic. Captain Neil seemed to take in the scene at lightning speed but it was Andrew who spoke first, “You left Aaron and Nicky with Roland?” He asks.

“Yeah I did,” Captain Neil confirms and FF can see the moment that his eyes land on the knife handle jutting out of FF’s stomach, “Andrew, what are we going to tell the police?” Captain Neil asks and FF could already see Neil crafting a lie to cover Andrew. That’s one of the things that FF likes about Captain Neil and Andrew’s relationship. He thinks it’s nice that both of them have someone who no matter the circumstances would be there with a shovel to help bury a body. He even thought it was nice when he thought it’d be his body!

“The second guy stabbed me.” The lie comes out smoothly which is good because he is planning on committing to it and Captain Neil blinks and looks at him, “He got hold of Andrew’s knife during the tussle.” He adds.

Captain Neil looks to Andrew, “You said it wasn’t-“

“I guess Smith can lie to a liar.” Andrew interrupts.

Captain Neil’s eyes widen before a wicked grin spread across his face that made FF just a little uncomfortable but only because Andrew’s grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and his nostrils flared the way they did before the two usually started speaking in Russian.

He can handle being stabbed, he cannot handle being in shock and pretending that he doesn’t know what the two of them are saying to one another.

“Can you tell Nicky I’m sorry I got blood on his clothes?” He asks and both Captain Neil and Andrew’s gaze snap away from eye-fucking each other. He looks down and the clothes are black and they haven’t moved the knife so the wound is plugged still but yeah there’s definitely blood seeping into the shirt, not to mention the hole. “Could you tell him I’m sorry about that?” He asks.

“You are going to tell him yourself Smith.” Andrew hisses, “You are going to be fine. Do you understand me?” He asks before turning to Neil, “Can you bunch your jacket under his legs, it’s better to keep them higher than his head and heart?” He asks.

Aw.

Andrew is just so nice.

He can’t BELIEVE he thought Andrew wanted to hunt him for sport.

He’d apologize for thinking that but he thinks it’d be better to just let that particular misunderstanding go unmentioned.

Captain Neil bunches his jacket up and puts it under FF’s legs before he goes over to check on Romero and Jackson. In the corner of his eye he sees Captain Neil pause at the sight of Romero before moving over to Jackson.

“Why is he in these?!” Neil asks baffled.

“It’s a weird sex alley Captain Neil! I don’t know WHAT to tell you!” Yeah he’s definitely going into shock. The sirens are getting closer though so he’ll probably be okay.

***

The cops all have a bit of a laugh about Jackson’s cuffs until Neil tells them exactly who they are taking into custody. Neil could admit that he’s a little irritated with Andrew that at no point did the man clarify that the people who FF and Andrew were dealing with were Romero and Jackson.

Those are his father’s goons.

“They were here for me.” Neil says to the police officer and Andrew’s hand tightens in his, “They tried to take Smith because he’s my friend.”

They had decided on their story before the cops came. FF had no idea who any of these people were and was just defending himself. He’d gone out to catch his breath in the alley when Jackson had shown up. Neil had asked how in the world FF had handled Jackson on his own but FF must have been getting kind of loopy from blood loss because all he said was, “He told me to sing so I did.”

Neil can find out the full story later.

The important part is.

“Jackson went after Smith but Smith won the fight.” Neil says looking at where the cops are trying to decide how to get the fuzzy pink handcuffs off of Jackson to get him in the far more secure police issued handcuffs.

“Your friend said that you and he took out Romero together. That Romero is the one who stabbed him with your knife.” He says.

“Yes.” Andrew answers simply and Neil squeezes his hand as a reminder, “I went out to grab a smoke and Romero followed after me. Romero got hold of one of my knives in the struggle and stabbed Smith.” Andrew says with his usual deadpan affect.

“Yeah that’s what your friend Smith was saying too.” The officer says. “Well, I’m sure the FBI will want to talk to you all further but for now it’s a pretty clear cut case of self defense and no one but your friend has any serious injuries.” The officer pats Neil on the shoulder and Neil manages not to shirk away from the touch. The officer retracts his hand, “You guys are free to go tonight.” He says and turns back towards the car where a dazed Romero is in the back seat.

“Where did they take Smith?” Andrew asks since they’d been shepherded away from Smith the moment the ambulance had come. They hadn’t been able to ask which hospital Smith was going to be taken to so they could go and get updates.

“Lexington.” The cop answers, “Go on and see your friend. He seemed pretty loopy he kept talking about some beauty contest thing when he was getting loaded into the ambulance. I’m sure he’ll be a riot on painkillers.” The cop goes for a joke but it twists something in Neil’s stomach to think of FF so out of it that he’s talking nonsensically.

He feels Andrew’s hand stiffen in his and knows he’s not alone.

“Thanks.” Neil says before they head towards the front of the club. The club had been emptied out when the cops had come so Roland was babysitting Aaron and Nicky for them while they talked to the cops and FF was loaded out to the hospital.

In a way it’s almost a blessing that Nicky and Aaron are both so blasted that they aren’t comprehending any of what’s going on. They’ll have to drop them off back at the house before they go to the hospital. They’ll beat Wymack there easily even after the interrogation and drop off.

FF had asked them to call Wymack to let him know what was going on “I gave him the rights to make health care decisions for me if I’m incapacitated.” FF had said so Neil texts Wymack the hospital and the address after Andrew rattles it off for him.

“I don’t like that you hid it from me.” Neil says in the car.

“They wanted to kill you.” Andrew won’t apologize.

They still hold hands on the drive back to the Columbia house.

Andrew takes care of getting Aaron into bed while Neil helps Nicky.

Nicky who looks at Neil with a loopy smile and Neil hurts knowing that tomorrow when Nicky finds out about tonight and how he was too blasted to do anything to help FF.

Andrew and Neil reconvene in the Maserati and make their way to the hospital before either of them realize the issue.

“What is the name of the patient you’re looking for an update on?” The receptionist asks.

Both Andrew and Neil freeze.

Fuck.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#Fluent Freshman AU #Andrew: Smith is in the hospital. #Wymack (half awake): What did you do #Andrew: He got stabbed #Wymack: I thought you LIKED Smith #Wymack: Whatever admit to nothing I'm on my way #Twenty minutes later Andrew gets a text informing him that Kevin is coming #Andrew: Great just great #FF is having the time of his life in the ambulance #They gave him something for his pain #FF: You get what I mean right? Like that was a funny line since it's about Miss Congeniality? #EMT: Now that I understand the context that's a solid joke #FF: THANK YOU. #FF: I can't BELIEVE none of those cops got it #FF: I was so glad you loaded me in here because I thought I was going to die of shame when no one laughed #EMT: Well we wouldn't want that #EMT: How's your pain by. the way buddy? #FF: Wow four friends in one night. I am on a ROLL. #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG Fic #Andreil #AFTG AU #My Fic #FF - Part 22

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Heartbeat

This header is from this post i havent stopped staring at by @/askmatthias (pls check him out omg omg omg it so good pls you gotta look at it gives me life actively)

In honor of Matthias coming home (in five days) and me begging for his s tier skin -hands you a fic- bby pls come home i need you in need you

Rated Explicit | Warning: vampirism

The clashing of swords drew his attention innocently, when it was quiet he did not know the scene would change to see you putting back on your shirt and the Lord of the Desaulnier manor fixing his hair.

“Your lamb is here.” The man is shirtless and holding a foil-fencing sword in each hand. Matthias never directly interacted with the mysterious noble but almost everyone says he is a cold standoff individual, Aesop though never spoke ill of him.

“At least pretend to be a gracious host, Joseph!” Snapping at him while he puts the foil-fencing swords back on the sword racks. The click of the vampire lord's tongue is loud. He is intimidating, beautiful as a woman but graceful as a man, Matthias stares then stops the second the other notices.

“Be sure to do what we talked about, (Name).” His hand is on your lower back and his lips are on your shoulder as he pulls back your shirt. It is personal, and though you are intimate with most of those who live in this manor, what he sees is some more to it.

From what you told him about vampires by nature are creatures who bend to the whims of desire, a beast that hungers endlessly. Some can control it while others become enslaved by it.

“Yes, monsieur.” You turn your head as he places two more kisses before slipping away. “Good night.” It is strange hearing you speak with a much more gentle tone. You are gentle, especially with Emil, Andrew, and Aesop. You can be kind, you can be firm, and you adjust to the needs of the individual.

“Evening.” Lord Desaulnier says before turning around and heading towards the door the puppeteer stands in front of.

Matthias moves aside not wishing to touch him unintentionally, his eye glancing and catching the cold glance of piercing red eyes. That made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The door is closed behind him and now you are alone with the vampire fledgling.

“Don't mind him,” Speaking up when alone with the new arrival, “He is the same way with Emil too.” Emil is the man who is always lingering in your shadow. One might say shy but Matthias believes he is cautious. The only man to sleep in your room, and honestly sleep there.

“I see.” His gaze is elsewhere as you finish dressing, “Training this late?”

“Joseph needed to clear his mind for a bit,” You turn around now once more wearing your shirt, “You're up late. Can't sleep?”

Matthias shakes his head, “... I got hungry.” Though he ate a few hours ago, his gut still ached for more.

“Alright,” Taking his hand, “Let's go to your room.”

“Wait, why my room?” He was going to head to the kitchen.

“To feed, unless you want to bite me here?” Titling your head to the side slightly curiously.

“No,” Clearing his throat, “No, I mean… Are you sure?” It has been some time since he fed on you, he still fears he may hurt you.

“Of course. You need a direct source before you can solely use the blood vials and blood wine.”

You learned during your time with Joseph that there are ways to satisfy the beast of hunger. Solid foods like red meats from animals help maintain and hold weight. Bloodwine to calm the body. Blood vials to store and immediately drink if one is not feeding on enough blood— However, blood in storage can clot over time.

Direct blood drinking though has its uses but rarely is anyone willing like you, and rarely do most vampires know how to drink enough without killing anyone.

"Come on, the sooner you feed the less likely you will hurt me.”

The puppet named Louis is in another room locked in a case. This is done by Matthias Czernin's specifications, yet, he still checks the locks on the door. The door is across from his room and sandwiched between Edgar's room and Frederick's room. Both are pure-blood vampires who were given invitations by Joseph.

Matthias rarely sees his neighbors, thankfully. You did that purposely so he does not feel like he must interact with everyone immediately.

You wish he would personalize his room… A bed, a workbench for his puppeteering equipment, and a wardrobe. Nothing more.

“(Name).” Having you sit on the bed with your back to him, “Can you… May you lower your shirt?”

You lower it until it rests on your forearms, and you lean your head to the side exposing your neck. His hands are restless, unsure of what to do. “Hold my shoulders to keep me steady.” He holds you, gentle at first but he grips harder when his fangs latch onto your neck.

The sting from fangs piercing skin is not something you can grow used to, it hurts a tad less but the pain is still there. But the pain never lingers as pain turns to pleasure, your body swaying as he drinks from you. You know your limits and the more he feeds the closer you are to reaching it.

“Matthias,” A groan from him as his arms wrapped around you keeping you in place, “Matthias, enough.” You might have to stop him and your hand reaches behind you to touch his face.

This makes him stop feeding, his mouth off your skin, tongue licking the residue of blood seeping out of the bitemark.

“You did good.” Praising him as you turn around when his arms let go of you, “Feeling better?”

A nod, he looks away, “You should put your shirt back on.” If he can blush then he has enough blood in his system.

“It's just my chest.” Teasing him, “You have seen me naked before.”

Once! By mistake because Naib Subedar and Norton are too daring for their own good!

“Do you not want to look at me?”

“I do.” A desperate tone, “But…”

“But?”

“More.” He tries to find the words, “I would want more.” His hands on his lap gripping the fabric of his pants.

You fully turn and take his hand placing it on your chest, the center where he can feel your steady heartbeat. You push forward against it until you are close enough to smell your blood on his lips.

“(Name).” Do not tease him, please do not be cruel.

“Matthias.”

The bed creaks with movement, the shared uneven breathing, the moans and groans of pleasure. The room for the first time seems more lively than it has in months.

You move your hips, rocking them forward and back, grinding slowly on his lap. There is no rush, you want him to experience this slow and steady for right now. You hold onto his back, his hands holding your thighs from underneath. His mouth meshed with yours, the puppeteer cannot get enough of kissing you.

He is not the best kisser as he has no experience in this but he learns along the way by copying your movements. Everywhere you touch it is like his body cannot help yearning for more, the voices for once are silent, and gazing up at you is like looking upon a god.

You would never take such a compliment, you never believe yourself above others whether physically or mentally. Everyone is an equal and you give only what others give you.

He wishes you would not. Wish you had met him first… Saved him. Though he knows it took a lot to get you to this current gentle state. The violence he heard Aesop was the first, he spoke only once about the large photograph of you in one of the rooms in the manor. The you who knew only blood and steel, a far cry to the person he has in bed with him.

When you both are exhausted, laying on the bed covered in the thin coat of sweat with his cum inside of you and you cum on his all over his now cock. His hand is on his chest, there is no heartbeat but he swears he can feel it racing. His eyes close as you pet his messy hair, his head on your chest with his ear above your racing heart.

You speak to him, asking him if he is okay or if he needs anything.

“You,” Clinging to you, “Can you stay?” Emil is probably going to be in a bad mood tomorrow when he wakes up to you not beside him. For some reason that makes Matthias happy.

“Yes, I can.” Smiling sheepishly, “As long as you want.”

#idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #matthias czernin #matthais czernin x you #matthias czernin x reader #puppeteer x you #puppeteer x reader #identity v puppeteer #idv matthias

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine- Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Death, blood, bleeding out, making out, kissing, men being creepy, swearing, blood, trauma, cliffhanger moment

A/N: Guys I am so sorry. School has actually picked up and so have rehearsals, I'm losing my mind, but I'm trying to write multiple things at once, and that's so silly of me. I'm sorry this is so short, and I promise the next one will be longer. Thank y'all for your patience. It means a lot! PS That's fully Lady Mac in the painting !!

Part 1 Part 2

In all fairness, it was your turn.

Spencer had been captured and drugged, Derek had been arrested and charged with multiple murders, Gideon’s lost love had been murdered by a serial killer, Elle had someone reach into her body and write with her blood on her living room wall, so truthfully, you were a little shocked it had taken you this long to be murdered, or kidnapped, or who knows what else. 

The team hadn’t royally fucked up, per se. You all were beyond careful, but sometimes, when you misprofile, things happen. How were you supposed to know that it was the girl and her boyfriend, and not just the boyfriend. 

The best part about this was the fact that you got to watch as the woman you saved two days ago get stabbed to death repeatedly, screaming at you to save her. Her blood splattered across your face, your clothes, your skin, permanently staining it in your mind. Your favorite Shakespeare show had always been Macbeth, it seemed a bit ironic now considering you felt as though you would never wash her blood off your hands. 

The screams would echo around in your head as you stared at her body on the mattress across from you. The red grew in splotches like a sick mold, blooming out from underneath.

The boyfriend, whose name was slipping your mind, slid the knife up your thigh, and you couldn’t tell if he was drawing more of your blood, or dragging hers across you. 

The couple had been so kind as to remove your shirt and pants, leaving you in nothing but undergarments, and no socks. Colorado was fucking cold at night

You heard the girl, Millie, giggling as she shoved the woman’s body with her foot. You winced as you felt the knife going higher than you would have preferred, his hand sliding around your waist. 

“Andrew. What are you doing?” 

His name was Andrew. Got it. 

His hands immediately retracted, shrugging and crossing his arms, but still standing over you. 

“Go dispose of her body.” 

Andrew nodded, quickly tugging your hair, painfully, before moving to clean up the mess the two of them had made. You swallowed the groan in your throat and closed your eyes; the woman’s body never left your sight though. 

“Why does a gorgeous agent like you wear such a boring necklace.”

Your eyes shot open as Millie swung the little gold chain around her fingers. You pulled you hand, intending to reach your neck, but the restraint dug into your wrist, surely leaving a mark in the process. 

You hadn't realized it was gone. Your neck suddenly felt so cold, so make, without it.

“Oh so which one of them gave you this?” 

You exhaled, but kept your eyes on her hand at all times, not wanting to lose sight of the necklace. 

She smirked, watching as every muscle in your body stayed as tense as it could. 

“Was it…Agent Morgan…Agent Prentiss…no, hmm…” She twirled it around, enjoying as you fidgeted around, terrified that the necklace would break. 

“The skinny one?” You tried so hard not to react, but you have this nasty habit of biting your cheeks when you get extremely nervous or worried, and Millie’s smirk turned wicked when she realized. 

“Ah, so it is the nerdy one…interesting…Andy?”

Andrew, who had been leaning on the door frame, eyeing you up and down, making your skin crawl, looked over at Millie. 

“Baby…” She drawled, “Put this necklace on me?”

“No.” You couldn’t help it as the words shoved their way out of your mouth before you even had a chance to process it. 

Andrew stalked towards Millie, eyeing her up and down before snatching the necklace out of her hand. “It’s real pretty on you baby.” He slowly placed it on her neck, the gold contrasting against her skin. 

“Ya know, I just have to ask…what does this stupid pendant even mean?” 

You shook your head, eyes cast downward, unable to watch someone else wear the necklace Spencer had given you. 

“Hey. Fucking answer me.” She kicked your shoulder causing you to wince in pain as you felt the bruising start to form immediately. 

You missed it as Andrew picked up the knife. You missed it as Millie took it from him. You didn’t miss how she stabbed you in the gut, causing your eyes to flash white. 

People say pain is hot, it shoots through you like a fire you can’t put out, but they’re wrong. It is ice in your veins. The numbness slowly takes over your body as it shuts down, trying to avoid the unavoidable. 

Your mouth let out a strangled “fuck” when Millie ripped the knife from your stomach, causing the blood to start oozing out of your wound. 

God it was not supposed to end this way. 

You placed a hand over your stomach, barely registering the wetness as you pulled it up to your eyes. You watched as the blood dripped down the sides of your hands, and that's when the adrenaline shot kicked out from underneath you. 

“Oh my god.” you mumbled, placing your hand over the wound. The first thing you were supposed to do was stop the bleeding. With what? There’s nothing around? Panic was seeping through every pore in your body. You had been trained for this, why couldn’t you remember what to do? What should you even use to stop the bleeding, god it fucking hurt. 

You watched as the door across the room slammed shut, causing you to flinch at the sound, causing you to groan in pain at the sudden movement. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

This couldn’t be it. You couldn’t just die while some sick and twisted bitch walked around with your necklace on, while you slowly bled out on some disgusting mattress in god knows where. 

Maybe this is what Spencer thought about while he was dying. 

“I’m not dying.” You whispered, wavering slightly. The blood loss was getting to your head and your eyes were getting heavy. “I’m not…shit. It’s fine…I’m”

His hand was softer than you remembered, but at least he wasn’t as nervous as before. It was your six month anniversary and Spencer had gone all out. He had taken you out to dinner, your favorite restaurant in the area, wined and dined you. It was perfect. The two of you had ended up back at your place, your back against the door as you dug your hand around in your pocket. 

“Spence.’ You mumbled, smiling against his lips, losing all focus as one of his hands grabs your waist, squeezing it with anticipation. 

Your lack of focus spurred Spencer on, and suddenly the door to your apartment was opening–he had found your keys and opened it, all while distracting you with his lips, his touch.  You were glad someone had their head on straight. 

You stumbled back slightly, not leaving his touch, feeling the warmth on his hands on your arm, pulling you back into him. 

“Move in with me.” He whispered against your lips, and you’re not sure if you heard him correctly. 

“What?” You whispered, taking the slightest step back, opening your eyes and looking up into his eyes. His sweet, shining eyes, filled with hope, and something a bit more. 

“Move in with me…” Spencer licked his bottom lip, that same nervous tick that would drive you fucking crazy whenever you looked at him. 

“What about the team…” Spencer shook his head. 

“Who cares.” He smiled at you. “I just want to wake up next to you every morning.”

Spencer kissed your lips softly.

“Please sweetheart” Your jaw.

“Every single morning” Your neck. 

“Spence…” You moaned slightly, surely leaving bruises on his arms from your grip. Your mind was everywhere, unable to truly cling onto any of the words Spencer was whispering to you.

“In our bed.” 

“Sold.” You pulled his head up and basically launched yourself at him, lips on his. 

Spencer was not having as great of a time in his head as you were. 

Just as the team was getting out of their cars, he had heard your voice, causing him to immediately go on high alert, hand on his gun in an instant. The rest of the team had followed suit, all of them quickly looking at Hotch and Reid, trying to figure out a plan. 

Reid almost had to be held back by Morgan the way he basically started to walk right into the building. He knew what happened in hostage situations. He knew how unforgiving captures could be. He couldn’t stop picturing all of the possibilities of what made you scream out in such pain. 

But suddenly, he heard the front door slam, causing all of them to instantly aim at the couple, demands and yelling all happening so slowly.

He could hear the suspects voice, that dumb asshole that wouldn’t stop flirting with you in  the restaurant they had eaten at a couple days ago. His arrogance was the least of Spencer’s problems now. 

Then, he heard a woman’s voice, calling the unsub “sweetheart” and “darling” and “baby”. How could the miss the girlfriend? 

She had seemed so…submissive. But clearly, the profile was off a little bit. 

That’s when he heard the first gun shots go off, causing him to look up at the body on the ground, and the girl sobbing but getting on her knees. The boyfriend had a gun in his hand, but was too slow. 

Morgan quickly walked up to the girl, Hotch following him closely, gun trained on her. 

Hotch’s eyes went wide, and he quickly gave a nod to Emily, causing her to block Spencer’s path. 

“Where did you get this?” Hotch yanked it off of her neck, clutching the necklace in his hand. 

“You’ll find what’s left of 'em in there.” She smiled sickly, getting shoved by Morgan towards the black SUV brigade. 

But Spencer had already seen the necklace, and heard her answer. It was a miracle how agile he was, considering the FBI had to waive all of his physical exams to let him go into the field. Before anyone could really clear the building, Spencer was already inside of it, ignoring the shouts from his superiors and peers. 

He slowly made his way through, trying not to vomit at all of the blood all over the floors and the very clear drag marks of a body. 

His eyes landed on your body, bloody mattress and all and he froze. He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes.

Next Part

________________________________________________________

SSMF Taglist: @raely-study @multifandoms-assemble @marylovesevanpeters @shqwqrma @niya06

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x gn!reader

[crystlizabeth]

What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico‧₊˚.

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish x Garrick!blkfem!reader

Summery: After getting the HQ back LV and 141 decide to go out and party and get some drinks little dose Johnny know the girl he’s been eyeing all night is Gaz little sister. Oops!

Warnings: flirting, making out, suggestive, drinking, me trying to write a Brit accent! Not proofread!

Fuck she was fine that’s all Johnny could think as he kept watching you, across the bar with some friends. Simon and Rudy telling him just to go talk to you that worse could happen is you tell him off.

“No fuckin’ way look at her she’s gorgeous!” Soap laughed when Alejandro joined in.

“Common hermano, when was the last time you got laid?” Ruby asked.

Johnny choked a laugh it been a minute but that just because work got in the way “you all act like I get no pussy!”

The three boys laughed, “mon Johnny go talk to the gal, because she keeps looking over here.” Ghost said drinking on his whisky.

“No fucking way actually.” His head whipped twords you and you where.

She had been looking over her shoulder giving him a toothy grin, turning her back to him her friend’s giggling as they talked to her. Her back turned to him he got a good view of her back her back dimples pierced a nice tattoo sitting on her back right shoulder, she wore some short shorts low rise maybe couldn’t tell and he could see the pink swim bottoms she wore the ties hanging out the sides her braids covering her top but but it was a white tank with the matching pink top. Okay yeah but he needed to finish this because that malt liquor was gonna give him the confidence he needed.

“Ima do it.” Johnny said standing up.

Ale and Rudy cheered him on as Simon laughed at the Scott. He had finally gotten to her, she had turned in her seat and he lost his words fuck she is “Wow..”

She let out a laugh “yeah? Ya like what ya see whit boy?” She smiled at him.

She was not from here that for sure, English girl huh.

“Yeah— sorry! I could help but notice ya starin’ gorgeous.” He chuckled.

“Im Johnny!”

“(name)! Lovely meeting you Johnny.” She smiled giving her friend a look having her move as she offered the seat to him.

“Whatcha drinking?” He asked.

“Malibu Sunset..” she laughed lightly, he laughed lightly with her.

“Cant take your liquor?” He joked.

She let her hand come to her chest acting offended “please I’m a big girl just don’t like the taste of it.”

He nodded ordering him and her a drink, she was even better up close her dark skin looked so good in the Mexico sunset as the outside bar lights hit her skin aswell, her gold hoop nose ring sitting pretty on her nose.

“Where ya from Johnny?” She asked taking as drink.

“From St. Andrews but currently living in the outskirts of London, what about you?”

Turns out you were also from London, maybe this wouldn’t just be a one night thing..

The two continued flirting with one another, them finally close to one another their knees touching. She let her hands run down his arms looking at him through her eye lashes. “Hope ya don’t got a girlfriend Johnny—thinking I’m wanting wantin’ ya to myself.” She hummed her tongue licking her bottom lip.

That made the blood rush to his cock, “luckily for both of us I don’t.” He chuckled.

He could smell the alcohol in her breath, the coconut Malibu lingering on her tongue.. he wanted to taste her. He let his hand touch her thigh squeezing it lightly.

“I think you need a soda.” He said tilting his head.

“Not even.. I could do one more sunset..” her hand grabbed the collar of his t-shirt pulling him in close.

“Wanna go for a swim.” She spoke her hot breath hitting his ear.

They was a women he had only knows for 45 minutes had him wrapped around her finger so he got up with her, his eyes looking back at the three men who only laughed Rudy giving him a thumbs up.

Johnny pulled his shirt Ofer his head taking his shoes off putting his socks in them taking his wallet and putting it in his shoe aswell, lookin up he sw her in just her swimsuit no shorts or tank and “Steaming Jesus..”

“Don’t keep me waiting, they’ll watch your stuff.” She said pointing at her friend who sat on the pool side.

Her hand reached out to his the cold water causing goosebumps on his skin, she brought him him closer placing his hands on her hips. Pulling him in deeper her face was close to his the whole time soon he felt his back hit a wall. “You can sit here is it alright if I’m on your lap?” She asked her voice all innocent as her fingers trailed up his biceps.

He nodded feeling her legs lift up placing themselves on either side of him now she was in his lap, he left his hands travel a bit lower his thumb playing with the stringed bikini bottoms his fingers grazing the curve of her ass. The water moved around them the music and all the people in the bar being heard in the background.

“This a’right lass?” He spoke feeling her lips grazes his.

His liquor finally starting to make things feel slower. He felt her lips finally touch his kissing him, Johnny let his hands grip her ass pushing her closer to him as they made out in the pool. Neither of them caring about all the people around.

Soap knows is he could have her right now he would. She tasted sickly of Malibu, not that he hated the coconut rum but fuck it tasted good off her tongue. He could feel her nails digging into his neck as they made out her soft moans heard only to him. He wanted her bad, he started to feel himself get hard all it took was one pluse and he could feel her grin through the kiss.

“Whats got you all hot n bothered Johnny boy?” She teased placing herself right on his erection. This made him have to take a deep breath his eyes shutting harshly.

She let her hips move slowly on his cock as their lips continued to move in sync with one another.

“(Name)!” A male voice could be heard, johnnys only thought was fuck hope it’s not a boyfriend. Which is a bad thing to think but common.

She looked up and so did Johnny “Kyle?!” She yelled, her body not moving off Johnny.

“What the fuck are you doing in Mexico? Aren’t you supposed to be in your fall tri not making out with some ass!” He yelled.

Then his eyes fell on Johnny and the way price and Ghots stood behind him holding in there laughter “No fucking way. You’re actually fucking me right now Johnny.”

“You know him!” She interrupted before soap could answer.

“Yeah I Fouking work with him.” Kyle yelled.

“Wait how do ya know eachother.”

“That’s my Little sister Johnny!” Kyle said moving over twords them Kyle reaching down pulling her up off him.

“Get off me ya ass! I’m grown and I can do what I please what the fuck are ya doin in Mexico huh?” She asked covering her chest looking up at her older brother.

“Working lets go grap ya shit!” Kyle said.

“Fuck off kyle ya not the boss of meh.” She sassed grabbing her sorts and tank.

“Lets go.” He said grabbing her arm lightly, “I’ll deal with ya later and your stiffi.” Kyle glared at soap, Johnny looked between the two she had stupid grin on her face as her eyes made eye contact wit Johnny.

Kyle grabbed her she turned her body a bit putting her hand up to her ear like a phone mouthing ‘call me’ giving Johnny a cheeky grin as he got out the pool.

He looked over at the four still there “no fuckin way that just happened.” Johnny said absolutely speechless.

“Well hermano what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico let’s just hope your friend Gaz doesn’t kill you on Mexican soil.” Alejandro laughs slapping Johnnys back.

“Ya almost fucked Kyles sister, shit.. I hope to see ya in the morning.” Price said laughing a bit as Johnny starting putting on his clothes.

Ghost had stayed behind with him as the others walked out, when picking up his phone he saw a pice of paper under it. ‘Here’s my number! Hope to hear from ya!’ Is read with digits and her name and last. Opening his phone he was some pictures little selfies of her with her cleavage nice and out must had taken them when he went back to the guys real fast to grab his wallet. 

Yeah he’ll be calling her see you at thanksgiving Kyle

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

A/n: part 2? because this seems like it needs a part to maybe

#x black reader #black fem reader #johnny mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap call of duty #johnny mactavish #soap x black reader #Johnny McTavish x black reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #Johnny soap McTavish x black reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 23

In the aftermath of the explosion, things are changing. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-22 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Depictions of injuries, mild violence. No use of Y/N. Whole fic is smutty and violent, Minors DNI.

Length: 3.5 k

The explosion knocked Joel off his feet. His head spun and his ears rang and his mind was singularly focused. 

It was akin to what it felt like the night of the outbreak. He got Tommy out of jail and shit went to hell. He raced home to find Sarah and then became singularly focused: get to you. 

Something on him hurt. He couldn’t really tell what, he was only vaguely aware of it and only that because it was making it hard to get to his feet. He was dizzy. It was hard to walk once he was standing. He caught sight of Tommy, backpack on his arm, far away. He looked at Joel for a moment and then ran. 

Get to you get to you get to you.

Everything was chaos but, for Joel, that was a benefit. There were no guards looking to stop him, nothing between him and you but rubble and bodies. Fuck, what if you were just a body… 

He fell to his knees when he reached you. 

Your eyes were closed, your body in an unnatural position on the ground. Your right arm was under rubble. There were little cuts peppered over your skin and a growing splotch of blood on your stomach. 

Joel didn’t know shit about medicine. He’d never learned first aid or any shit like that. All he knew was shit Tess told him to do when things went bad outside the QZ - shit he was sure you told her to begin with. He lifted your shirt, enough to see a hole in your stomach near your hipbone. 

Without meaning to, he remembered Sarah. There’d been nothing he could do for her, nothing. He’d only been able to hold her as she bled. 

It couldn’t be happening again. Not to you. Fuck, not to you.

He lowered his ear to your lips but he couldn’t hear you breathing. He took your left wrist and tried to find a pulse but couldn’t do it. 

“No,” he shook his head. “No, no, no, Baby you can’t…” 

He looked around, frantic. There had to be someone, anyone, someone who could do something. Joel spotted him then, Andrew at the edge of the scene, his eyes wide and a bag in his hand. There were other people with him, people who were vaguely familiar. 

“Andrew!” He screamed it. Your wrist was still in his hand, limp. Andrew spotted him quickly, frowning but moving for him. “Help me!” 

He wasn’t sure if Andrew saw you, if he realized the only thing left on this Earth that could make Joel this desperate was you but suddenly he was running, screaming over his shoulder and bringing someone else with him. 

“It’s OK Baby,” Joel’s hands moved to your face. It was almost like you were asleep. Your face was relaxed, peaceful. Like when he’d reach out and touch you in the morning when he woke.a few minutes before the alarm and spent the time just looking at you. “You’re going to be OK, you have to be OK…” 

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew fell to his knees beside him, looking at you with wide eyes. “You have to move, Miller…” 

Joel scrambled to obey, kneeling over your head, your face in his hands. A small woman he didn’t know almost immediately took his place, checking you over, her fingers pressing into your stomach and ribs. Wordlessly, she dove into the bag at her side and pulled out a scalpel and some tubing, cutting the tube down before plunging the blade in-between your ribs and forcing the tube in. Blood poured from you but you took a shaky breath, eyes still closed. 

“She’s got internal bleeding,” the woman said. “Blood was compressing her lung… We have to get her to the clinic now or she’s going to bleed out.” 

“Andrew!” Joel said, already reaching for the rubble covering your arm. The concrete and glass cut his hands but he didn’t care. Andrew scrambled around you and started pulling at the pile, too, until your arm was free. Joel didn’t hesitate. The second it was, he went for you, his arms sliding below your shoulders and knees, lifting you easily into his chest and started running with you. Andrew ran past him at one point, racing ahead to warn the clinic, apparently trusting Joel enough to get you there. 

When he got there, there was a gurney waiting, the one doctor who stayed behind ready to take you back. Joel kept moving with you but Andrew’s hand went over his shoulder, holding him back. 

“No,” he pulled himself away from him. “No, I’m staying with her, I can’t…”

“We’d be in the way,” Andrew said quietly. “It’s better for her if we stay out here.” 

He stood still, staring at the doors you’d disappeared through for a moment. He was covered in your blood, soaking in it and the feeling that he’d failed you again. If he’d held you tighter, closer, better for just a few seconds longer you’d have been further away. Scratched and bruised and shaken but fine. Instead, you were bleeding. 

“C’mon,” Andrew said, clamping a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. He led Joel to the waiting room and they sank into chairs. Joel glanced at the other man. 

“Shouldn’t you get back?” He asked. 

“I’d be useless,” Andrew shook his head, staring at the doors. “I’d miss shit, people’d get hurt. Can’t… if it’s her or Jess I can’t…” 

Joel nodded, looking at the door, too. 

He went back over it all in his head. Seeing you at first. It was always a shock to his system to see you when he wasn’t expecting it. His first instinct was always to go to you. Touch you, be beside you, forget just how much it hurt to be near you. He resisted it. It only took him seconds to regret it. 

The first explosion threw you forward and he was running for you before he’d really been aware of it, pulling you to your feet and trying to get you the fuck out of there. But he hadn’t held you tight enough and you’d gone back, like you had some kind of fucking death wish. 

He’d tried to get to you, he’d throw you over his goddamn shoulder and carry you out of there, he didn’t care. But he was stopped. First by FEDRA guards, who saw him trying to find a clear path to the building and all but tackled him, convinced he’d had something to do with the explosion. Then by Tess, who was doing everything she could to drag him away. He was still fighting to get to you when you emerged, helping someone out from the flames. 

If he’d just been close enough to you the first time. If he’d held you tighter, if he’d just thrown you over his fucking shoulder and dragged you away. If, if, if. 

He felt it when he held you, every time he held you. This drive to protect you, to keep you safe. It was like he was built for it, designed to make sure you were able to stay soft and kind so the world didn’t crush it out of you. But he kept failing at it. You were slipping out of his grip and he was never able to do the one thing it seemed he was made to do. 

More people were brought in, sometimes with a doctor or nurse, others with guards. The doctor who’d taken you back never emerged, though. That must be a good sign, he assumed. That he was still working on you. 

Joel had been sitting there for long enough that your blood on his clothes had started to dry. The hair on his arms were caught in it, pulling uncomfortably every time he moved, the little twinge sometimes the only thing reminding him that he was still alive. He was still watching the door when two FEDRA guards came in with another patient, leaving them with a nurse, when Joel heard them muttering as they left. 

“Fuckin’ Fireflies,” one muttered. “Not gonna stop blowing stuff up until shit in here is as bad as shit out there…” 

Joel’s fist clenched against his leg. He’d been so worried about you he hadn’t stopped to think what caused the fucking explosion to begin with. But Fireflies. The fucking Fireflies. The same group Tommy had been smuggling shit in for for years. They were the reason you were bleeding, the reason he’d almost had to watch you die. He ground his teeth. 

Your doctor came up from the back, looking exhausted. Both Joel and Andrew shot to their feet. 

“She’s going to be OK,” the man said. Andrew slumped against Joel in relief. Joel had to focus to stay on his feet. “She’s going to be recovering for a while. Her arm is broken, she had a lot of internal bleeding but we were able to save just about everything except part of her intestine that we patched, a lobe of her liver - which she’ll grow back over time - and her gallbladder which she can live without. All in all, she was very lucky. You got her here quickly, which made all the difference.” 

“Can we see her?” Joel asked quickly. 

“She’ll be unconscious for a bit yet,” the doctor said. “But yes, you can come back.” 

They followed him to your room. It was clear the clinic wasn’t used to this level of medical intervention. You were in an exam room that had been set up to keep you alive and the room was packed with equipment. Andrew took one side of the bed, Joel took the other. 

You looked pale but peaceful, the blood loss still washing you out. Joel wanted to kiss you, hold you, tell you not to worry about anything that he was going to take care of you. 

Instead, he took your hand. 

“You saved her,” Andrew said, looking down at you. Joel frowned. “If you hadn’t gotten her help so fast…” 

He watched you for another moment before looking to Joel. 

“I never thanked you,” he said. “For what you did to McCarthy. I couldn’t… He wouldn’t have paid with me. It would have been quick and clean. You gave him what he deserved.” 

Joel just nodded, still watching you. 

“Need to keep her safe,” Joel said. “Should have been there to do it before. Wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there before.” 

He still needed to keep you safe. Joel may not like FEDRA - fucking hated FEDRA really - but you worked for them. He couldn’t keep you safe if Fireflies were blowing up every goddamn FEDRA facility. It would only be a matter of time before they bombed the clinic, until they tried to kill you, too. 

He ground his teeth. 

“Stay with her,” he said. “I’ll be back.” 

Joel stalked out of your room and left the clinic, fists clenched, as he made his way to his apartment. 

Tommy was inside, pacing, his clothes covered in a thin layer of dust. 

“Joel,” he grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I was so fuckin’ worried…” 

“Did you do this?” He asked, his voice flat. Tommy stepped back from him. 

“Do what?” He asked. 

“Did you and your fuckin’ Fireflies blow up the goddamn building.” He said it through gritted teeth, straining to not hit him. 

He sighed. 

“Look, you might not agree with it - I don’t necessarily agree with it - but something has to give to make FEDRA…’ “I don’t give a fuck why you did it, Tommy!” Joel yelled. “You almost killed her!” 

His face fell, eyes going wide. 

“What?” He breathed. 

“She was there!” He shoved him back. “She was barely out of the building the first time, would have just been blown apart if she’d been just a few seconds later!” 

“But…” Tommy didn’t even move to defend himself. “She’s never… she should have been at the clinic… I asked her, earlier this week I asked her…” 

Joel shoved his brother again and he didn’t do anything to stop it. 

“She almost fucking bled to death in my arms, Tommy!” He shoved him again. “Almost had to watch her die, too, because your fuckin’ friends won’t be happy until everything’s blown apart!” 

He threw Tommy into the wall, holding him there with his arm in his neck. Tommy’s hands were up. 

“I swear, Joel, I’d never hurt her, you know I’d never hurt her…” 

“I trusted you!” Joel screamed. “Trusted you to look out for her and keep her safe and you almost blew her up!” 

He was panting for breath when he released Tommy from the wall. 

“Leave the Fireflies,” he said, voice calmer. “Turn them in.” 

Tommy shook his head. 

“I can’t do that, Joel,” he said quietly. “Someone has to put a stop to FEDRA, they’re out of control. I don’t want to hurt anyone but war comes at a cost…” 

“Then you need to get the fuck away from here,” Joel said. “Those are your fucking choices. If being in the goddamn Fireflies is that important you need to do it far from here. I will never forgive you if she dies because of you, Tommy. I will never forgive you.” 

“I wouldn’t…” he began but Joel cut him off. 

“How long you think it’ll be before they go after the doctors and the teachers, too?” He asked. 

“They wouldn’t…” Tommy shook his head. Joel pressed on. 

“They fuckin’ will,” he said. “They’ll go after everyone who has ties to FEDRA, even the good ones, you know they will. And she’ll be so busy tryin’ to fuckin’ save everyone that it’ll get her killed. Only goddamn reason it didn’t today was because I was there.” 

“Joel…” he said, but Joel cut him off. 

“Leave the Fireflies or get the fuck out of Boston, Tommy,” Joel said. “Because if she gets hurt at their fucking hand again, I will kill you. Won’t even feel bad about it. Decide what fuckin’ matters to you.” 

Joel stormed back to the clinic. He didn’t even stop to change out of the shirt that was covered in your blood. Jess was there with Andrew when he got back and he joined them, keeping sentry by your bedside until you woke up. 

***

Sunday, July 5, 2015 - Three Weeks Later

Folding laundry around your cast was a hassle. Doing a lot of things around your cast was a hassle. But it had to get done. 

Andrew and Jess had offered to help with everything, of course. They’d both been there when you woke up, as had Joel. It was almost strange, seeing Joel and Andrew in such a small space without trying to kill each other. 

“What…” you tried to talk, your mouth so dry it was hard to move. Joel had about jumped to his feet when you started talking, standing near your shoulder, his brown eyes running over you again and again, like he was waiting for something to go wrong. 

“There was an explosion,” Andrew said. “You had a fair bit of internal bleeding and a hemothorax, a concussion, a stomach laceration, your arm is broken…” 

You glanced down at your arm in its cast and frowned. 

“Joel saved you,” Jess said, smiling a little at the large man at your shoulder. Joel’s shirt was bloody. Your frown deepened. 

“Are you OK?” You asked, reaching the hand that wasn’t in a cast for him. 

“Fine,” he muttered. 

“That’s a lot of…” 

“All yours,” he said gruffly. 

“Oh.” You looked back to Andrew. “What about everyone else? How many dead? When is it, how long have I been here?” 

“You’ve been out of surgery about six hours,” he said. “But last count I heard was 37 dead.” 

You tried to remember the last thing that happened. You remembered flying through the air, the heat and the pressure and the sound. Just before, someone warning you that they hadn’t cut the gas line yet… His voice had been familiar. 

“Anyone we knew?” You asked. 

“Don’t have all the names yet,” Andrew said. “But your former student, Tim, wasn’t too far from you. He didn’t make it.” 

“Oh,” you said again, tears welling up before you could stop them. Tim. It had been his voice. Of course he’d have known about the gas. He worked in engineering as well as his duty as a guard, he built things. He liked science. He had a girlfriend he loved. He had a life that he’d made for himself here. And now he was gone. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You started trying to sit up. “There must still be a lot going on…” 

Andrew looked at Joel and the both gently held you down. 

“You’re healing,” Andrew said. “You just had a head injury and you lost a lot of blood. You’re not in any shape to be doing anything medical to anybody. You need to stay put.” 

They’d made you stay put for weeks. You were finally going back to work tomorrow, starting with just teaching this week and ramping up to teaching and the clinic the week after. You were ready for it, tired of sitting in your apartment and staring at the wall, feeling like you weren’t getting a damn thing done. 

It’s why you’d wanted to do your laundry yourself. Just to prove that you could. Even if folding it with your cast was a bitch. 

There was a knock at your door and you frowned. It was Tommy’s knock, you’d know it anywhere. 

He’d been avoiding you since you got hurt. You hadn’t seen him even once - a true oddity. You’d seen him at least once or twice a week since you’d become friends again, him always saying he wished he could see you more but accepting that he couldn’t because of your work schedule. You knew he had to be avoiding you on purpose. You opened the door. 

“Hey, Kid,” he half smiled at you. 

“Hey,” you smiled back. “What’s going on? Long time, no see…” 

“I know,” he said. “Mind if I come in? I won’t be long.” 

“Sure,” you frowned, stepping aside. He came in, looking around like he was memorizing your space. Your frown deepened. “What’s going on, Tommy?” 

“I’m leaving,” he said, turning to face you. 

“What?” You breathed. 

“Going out west, with the Fireflies,” he said. He sounded pained as he said it. 

“No,” you shook your head. “No, you can’t… That doesn’t… Tommy, your life is here…” 

“I know,” he nodded. “But I can do more out there, make a difference. Hopefully be a part of putting an end to all this.” 

“But…” you started to protest, but he cut you off. 

“Come with me.” 

“What?” You laughed after a second. 

“Come with me,” he said again. 

“Tommy…” 

“I know you don’t think you can love me,” he said. “But that’s OK, you don’t have to. We can just have fun together and we can do it out there, we can make a life that way. You’re my friend, you’re my best friend, and the lab out there… you can really do great work out there, I know you can.” 

“I can’t…” you breathed. He took your face in his hand, his fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Yes, you can,” he said. “I promise you, you can.” 

“My life is here…” you began but he cut you off. 

“You mean Joel is here,” he said. But you shook your head. 

“Andrew and Jess are here,” you said. “The clinic that I helped build is here. My students are here. I can help people here, Tommy, and I can do it right now. I don’t have to wait until I somehow manage to invent the impossible cure, I can make things better for people today. Right now. I can’t just leave, even if I’d want to just hang out with you for the rest of my life. I can’t just leave this place. This is where I belong right now. I have to stay.” 

His eyes searched yours, pleading and sad. But you stood firm. 

“When do you go?” You asked softly. 

“Next week,” he said. 

“Will I get to see you again?” You asked. He pressed his lips into a grim line. 

“I don’t think so, Sweetheart.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded. He pulled you close, pressing his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. 

“I’m going to miss you,” you breathed. “You have no idea how much.” 

“I’m going to miss you, too,” he pulled back from you, taking his hand from your face. “I should go. Lot of shit to get done before I leave.” 

You nodded, a lump in your throat. You held the door open for him as he left, watching him walk to the stairs at the end of the hall. He turned back to see you again, one last time, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“Here’s lookin’ at you, Kid.” 

A/N: And so comes the Tommy split, the thing that forces him out west to begin with and makes it so he and Joel not talking makes just a smidge more sense IMO.

I hope you all enjoyed this entry! We're getting closer and closer to meeting Ellie and the trip across the country, just a few more plot points I want to set up first but it's coming.

I do have a taglist so if you're interested in being added, please let me know in the comments below.

Thank you as always for reading and letting me know your thoughts and feelings! I love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[marketfreshfics]

Loving him: Sebastian

image: @starrysallow | More in this series: Ominis | Garreth (WIP) | Andrew (WIP) Includes mild nsfw content

Your love for Sebastian was always apparent; looking back now, it was abundant.

It’s a duel more of wits than spells, and he is the worthy opponent you’d craved crossing wands with. He’s a clever one, you realized, challenging your abilities with cunning finesse, goading you with a sharp tongue. Though you best him, he’s a good sport, even offering to accompany you to Hogsmeade for an errand or two.

It’s noticing how the afternoon sun brings out red tones to his hair, how he tries to keep up though he’s the escort, a playful tug on the hood of your robe to keep in-step.

It’s a midnight rendezvous in the library’s restricted section, sneaking close to him under a shroud of disillusionment, a hand on his back for guidance, warmth bleeding through his shirt. A close encounter is prevented with a firm tug of your sleeve, hiding face to face with bated breaths, with hearts hammering both for the fear of being discovered and for the sudden proximity.

It’s sitting across from him the morning after, his freckled cheeks a wash of pink, eyes warm and reminiscent of the coffee you sip. The clamour of breakfast time is rendered mundane din, the rest of the world vignetted around him. You’d never considered seeing the world through a gaze of affection like this, having scoffed at fairytales that depicted such folly, but now you’re not so sure.

It’s in the damp of a cave, the must of a tomb, eager to explore the unknown on a path towards a paradox of dark enlightenment. A moment of uncertainty brings you pause, a question of morals, of what is truly forgivable, but those eyes hold more knowledge than you suspect and he asks you to trust him. And in that moment, you oblige.

It’s evenings spent on his down comforter, books scattered about, dozing on his leg until he finds a passage that piques your interest. And his calloused fingers brush the hair wisps from your face, the earthy smell of ancient parchment clinging to the salt of his skin. Eyes meet, and an exchange of words is not necessary.

It’s what gives passion heat, and heat is all you understand in his embrace. It’s those exquisitely resourceful hands everywhere, gripping, tugging, attempting to caress though he cannot soften this all-consuming need. Its limbs that tangle of their own volition, a bed frame that creaks when he thrusts, and lovemaking so ardent it pulls the sheet up from the mattress. There are no hesitations here, only desperations. There is no doubt, only certainty. He’s a fierce friend, but as a lover, he’s never been more determined.

It’s following him with little regard for your safety, little regard for other obligations. Your heart is a foolish compass and he is magnetic north, though he guides you anywhere but home.

It’s watching him raise the dead from soil, all pulled up like roots, and caught somewhere in the fragile seam of fear and fascination, in awe of the downright awful. You wonder, as he stands surrounded by idle Inferi like some prodigal child of darkness, if you’ve underestimated him all this time.

It’s realizing then, when he felled his own guardian, that your underestimations knew no bounds. It’s running after him as he flees, frightened of the implications, of the circumstances, of the blood staining his hands. It’s not cowering in fear of him, but the sympathy you are quick to offer wholeheartedly, providing gravity when his world turned to hang in the balance. It’s reasoning his innocence to the law itself, seeing his guilt, the shame spreading.

It’s picking up the pieces after the fallout, reconnecting the bridges burned, plank by patient plank. It’s watching him grow, and with you he develops an understanding of the dark to counter it with light. He sees the errors of his ways, the forks of his path that led him astray, and you regret not having the foresight to divert him elsewhere.

But then, he shows you his love. Dedicated and devoted, the bond you’d forged unbreakable, built on trust. It was always there, waiting.

It reassures you. And it’s everything you want.

#sebastian sallow drabble #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #slytherin #hogwarts legacy drabble #sebastian #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy mc

[moon-fics]

Another Universe- Peter Parker

A/n: Ugh I miss writing pure angst! Anyway, Lime Light will be pushed back a bit!! I want to write two more of these based on Tom and PS5 Spider-man but idk! This one is based off of Andrew's Peter but you can imagine anyone.

Summary: You've always loved Peter Parker, from the moment you met to the day you die. Maybe in another universe it isn't so tragic.

Warning: swears, angst, no happy ending, mentions of death and blood

You stare out the window as the rain falls, a small candle battling the cold glass for room. New York has always been gloomy during the fall season and you can't help but enjoy it just a bit. When the sun is blocked by the clouds and the air is cold, that's something you'll never get tired of.

As your eyes follow a raindrop on the window, the front door opens. You're quick to get up from the bay window, listening as the sounds of footsteps get closer. You act before you see him, you know those footsteps. The bright red and blue are blurry in your vision as you throw your arms around him.

"How's my bug doing?" You ask with a hum. He smells of rain and cinnamon, a combination you never thought you'd love so dearly. He's still wet from the rain and you know he's going scold you for getting yourself soaked as well.

"Oh, the usual," He laughs, gently pulling you off him. There's a dark stain on your shirt from where the water absorbed and a few droplets on your shoulders from his hair. "May invited us over for dinner," He informs you, planting a kiss on your cheek.

"Oh, do you think she'll make meatloaf?" You ask excitedly, watching as he removes his suit and lets it drop to the floor. You'll pick it up in a second, but right now you're focused on him. He's unharmed which is a miracle that you welcome gratefully.

Peter grimaces at the thought, "I hope not, I'll have to lie all night about how great it is," His expression returns to a smile, knowing that he'd willingly do it anyway. "Maybe in another universe she's a top chef known for her meatloaf," He jokes, throwing his head back at his own idea. You, however, enjoy May's cooking. Besides the occasional date night, she's the only home-cooked meal you get.

"It's not that bad, you only got sick twice last time," You tease, following him to the bedroom. Your apartment is small but pleasing to look at thanks to your touch. Peter originally wanted to paint the walls tan but you convinced him a nice light blue would be better.

"Let me wash up and we'll head to her place," He kisses you softly, letting his lips linger for just a second. "Maybe you could join me?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

You've already taken a shower today and you'd only need to change your shirt to be ready. "Maybe in another universe," You tease, pressing your pointer finger against his forehead to push him away. With a grin, you turn around and head to the candle to blow it out

--

It's freezing cold and you're sure you can't feel your fingers anymore. You stare up at the sky, tracing the dark clouds with your eyes. Snowflakes slowly fall down on your face, kissing the ground around you.

You can't help but think about the warning about yellow snow, but no one mentions crimson snow. Probably because the chances of you coming across an alarming amount is small, at least you hope it is.

"Y/n?" A voice calls out, but it's muffled by the wind. You can't move an inch of your body, not even to see who is screaming. You swallow the dryness in your throat in hopes it'll dampen, but it remains parched. "Y/n, you have to look at me," The voice pleads.

A masked figure pops into view, hovering over your face. The red mask is a dead giveaway and your lips curl up. Your breath is visible in the cold air but it's small and labored.

"Hey, bug," You cough out, liquid filling your mouth. It's metallic and hot, definitely not saliva. "Sorry, I can't make Christmas tonight," You laugh, trying to make light of your situation. As you keep your eyes on the mask your vision slowly blurs, right as the mask is removed. Peter's hands cup your face, his warmth giving you comfort.

"No, you'll make it. We'll just postpone it," He assures you with a shaky voice. He doesn't even sound sure of himself and that's how you know this won't end well. Peter Parker will once again lose to fate.

You take a breath that lets out a whistle sound, blinking away tears. "I'll have to ask May to make her meatloaf just to torment you," Your voice is barely audible and you're glad Peter has super hearing. He lets out a weak laugh, his hands positioning your head onto his lap.

There are sirens that are growing louder but you know it'll be too late. By now you're surrounded in blood-soaked snow and your body won't be able to recover. "Hey, Pete," You try to speak but it sounds like there's mucous in your throat, like you're dying.

"Do you think that in another universe Spider-Man always wins?" The question remains in the crisp air for some time. It echoes in your heart that is slowing down and leaps into your throat which now has barbed wire around it.

"I'm sure of it," He nods finally, tears freely falling down his cheeks. They land on your skin and blossom through your veins. As the world slowly blurs into darkness you can only imagine a universe where May is a famous chef and Peter is happy.

#spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #peter parker x fem #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x female reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #marvel spiderman #marvel cinematic universe

[blacksupremacy86]

The Hypno Bachelor

Welcome to the bachelor! This is new dating show for a Hypnotist not traditionally what is demanded for but he is for this guys who are competing to be his Hypnotic subject for a year long battle.

I walk in to a spare room to find this hottie Luke Macfarlane laying on the bed with thus sexy smile on his face as I enter taking him in l while shutting the door behind me and flicking a switch. Suddenly! The ceiling wall slides open allowing a silver disco ball that is blowing up in a multitudes of color is hot burning up in to the area shooting laser left right and center. Two aim straight for both of his eyes hitting him dead on as he goes totally slack and his body falling in to a lack of function as he stares at me mindlessly ready to be reprogrammed for more then just fun.

“Oh! There you are Lawrence! I love nerdy types please don’t keep me waiting like this anymore and can we just get to the action please you are driving me craziness with all of this nerdiness.” He says to me when I am approaching him but ignore him instead as I bend over and pick up a remote control on the night table then point it at him as I click it and he freezes. “Sorry Henry boi! I do not need any of your lip at this momentous level of occasion because I am your new Master now, but simply to state I am about to truly rock your world and I crawl over the bed till I am on top of him and undoing his clothes also his lips with my lips.

“I am too tough for this Hypno shit.”

“You think so? Why are your buttons undone”

“Fuck! How did…”

“Sleep! “

“You ba-st-at-d”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Release the strings”

“I transformed you earlier “

“You are a puppet”

“Push your shirt to the side “

“Feel yourself up”

“Take a dive “

“Don’t be afraid “

“Real good”

“Get in to the crevice “

“Why don’t shift your jeans “

“Feel your lower level “

“Your horny “

“Oh Lawrence!”

“Get off the couch

“Did you like the lollipop ?”

“It’s addictive “

“It’s my original flavor “

“How did you make it ?”

“Laced it with blood and pee?”

“What the fuck?”

“It’s mine”

“Why on earth?”

“You drank that up “

“Obsessed over it”

“Oh my God”

“My new favorite flavor “

“I know “

“Suck another “

“You are fucked up”

“Nah! I am going to the dark side”

“ Oh Master Lawrence! I’v been wearing this in hope you show off, my best shorts are so hot me. Don’t you think so! I do think you are cute in everything, please don’t be shy or bashful because no one can or would ever doubt you.” Andrew is all a glow smirks so brightly as he blows me a string of very powerful kisses, a warm embrace hugging me tightly in every way and I can feel my hand on every crevice. He digs his hands ma under my shirt lifting it over my head as he presses his lips on to my skin raging hot under my skin and he revels in the lust and the unburdening of his soul as he fell in to deep submission.

“I spotted you the moment you rocked up in to the villa Jamie since you have for some odd reason caught my attention off the foreseeable future and I want to ravish you right now. Stand up to attention look right ahead at the wall, remove your shirt, pants, and underwear let it drop to the floor and sit on the bed awaiting me for the longterm.” I tell Jamie he is a good lay while walking closer to his knees pat them and he wraps his arms on me and mine on his waist he smells my scent and it drives him wild so much he could jolt up the walls.

Golden boi! “

“Yes Sir!”

“Rise up “

“SNAP”

“POP”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Strip”

“Leave your pants”

“Shake your booty”

“Do a dance?”

“Who is your God?”

“You are sir”

“Kneel”

“Crawl over here”

“Kiss my boots”

“What are you ?”

“A pussy “

“Who are you?”

“Your golden boy”

“GOOD BOY “

“YOU!”

“The show “

“Are you ready?”

“Lights”

“Camera “

“Action”

“Woooohhhh”

“Oooohhhh yyyeeeaaahhh!”

“Check this pussy out”

“Your fast”

“I know what I want “

“‘My fist in your ass”

“Mmmmm”

“That would be heaven”

“I am yours”

“Kneel”

“Suck me off “

“Good boi “

“The most marvelous taste in the world “

“It is fabulous “

The end

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1?

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

(For ambiance~)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n's dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately look for the point of injury when she finally found it at the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind me.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten us of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at me for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's."

She looked down at my costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across my face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of my skirt letting it cover my legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt my body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to mine and he sat beside me.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and played with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

#Phantom of the Opera x reader #erik poto #poto #poto erik #phantom of the opera #erik destler #Phantom of the Opera 2004 #christine daae #Viscount Raoul de Chagny #raoul de chagny #Erik #opera #yn #x reader #x you #x y/n #my fic #Reader #Spotify #2004 Erik Destler #2004 Erik Destler x reader #Gerik x reader #Gerik phantom #poto x reader #Phantom of the Opera fanfic #phantom of the opera x reader #the phantom of the opera #The Phantom of the Opera x reader #The Phantom x reader

[supercap2319]

The vampire with the ginger hair and fresh blood on his face and white shirt had some nerve thinking he could just waltz right into his town and feed or kill whoever he wanted. Vampires and werewolves, even zombies were forbidden to trespass in Riverdale. They had a deal. They could do whatever they wanted with the rest of the world, but Riverdale was off limits to every supernatural creature except for witches and the town's guardian angel.

Obviously, the vampire with the red hair and brown eyes didn't get the memo.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be? Border patrol?" The vampire chuckles. "You just might be the cutest guard that I've ever seen."

Y/N narrowed his eyes and frowned as he replied back in a calm tone. "Town witch. Actually, the other town witch is on vacation with her girlfriend, Toni.

"Toni? Toni Topaz?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"Let's just say that our paths have crossed." The ginger smiled.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you think you came here to do, but it's not going to happen. You're trespassing." Y/N told him.

"It's a free country isn't it? I should be allowed to go whenever I please." The vampire told him.

"No, wrong. This is my town. Your kind isn't welcome here. We had a deal with your people and the wolves. No one is allowed to come into this town."

That should have been enough for the vampire to get the idea that he wasn't wanted here, but apparently he's either very brave, or very stupid. Either way, he wasn't going anywhere as he smiled. "Aww... You're so protective of your hick town. Ain't cha?"

Y/N glared as he looked at a tree as it bursted into flames. "The next one is you."

"Touch witch, huh?"

"What do you want with Riverdale?"

"Nothing. I just want a famous Pop's diner milkshake. And to see my dad."

Y/N was surprised to hear that this vampire knew about Pop's or that he had a parent in this town. "Who's your dad?"

The vampire grinned. Showing his fangs. "Fred Andrews."

"So that makes you..."

"Archibald "Archie" Andrews. Nice to meet you, Y/N. My dad has told me a lot about you." He smiled.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #kj apa x male reader #kj apa #Riverdale #archie comics #archie andrews x male reader #archie andrews #vampire Archie Andrews #vampire kj apa #archie horror