#also i fought this piece the moment i started it. i had such a bad time. i am so glad it's done ajksfhkgfjs

[kiisaes]

apple of my eye 🔪

#i played dead plate ... obsessed. with. them #also i fought this piece the moment i started it. i had such a bad time. i am so glad it's done ajksfhkgfjs #dead plate #dead plate game #rody lamoree #vincent charbonneau #fan art #becki draws stuff n stuff #rendered #i don't know the ship name between them or if there even is one so if anyone knows please inform me HELP #edit thank u for the ship names #vincerody #coal fired heart

[patscorner]

FAMILY DINNER PART2

Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned

Tw: Swearing, physical altercation, mentions of blood, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed, lmk if I missed something

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The rest of the dinner was just as awkward as you'd thought it'd be. You can't really come back from your father implying you and your boyfriend just fucked in the bathroom of your childhood home, at the first family 'reunion' in 2 years.

So there you sat, eating your food in silence, waiting -no- begging, that someone cut the tension.

And finally someone does. And as they say, careful what you wish for.

"How many plates have you had, dear?" Your mom asked, looking up from her plate. You look back at her, before glancing at your plate and back to at her again.

"This is my second." You say, mouth full of food. You were thankful that people took your mother's talking as an invitation to also continue their conversations.

"Maybe we should slow down, you know? Save room for dessert, which you clearly don't need." She smiles, as if what she said was the best piece of advice she'd ever given anyone.

Her comments always bothered you, no matter how much you were told to ignore them. But when it came to your weight, it hurt the most. The comments were the worst in high school, as you were a little heavier than the average petite high schooler. But it was never as serious as your mom made it. So when you were a sophomore in high school, you developed an eating disorder, where you couldn't eat even if you tried, where you spent hours crying in front of the mirror, wishing you were skinnier to fit your mother's impossible expectations.

You fought that battle for years, 3 years to be exact. Your mom couldn't help because she saw nothing wrong with what you were doing. She would say, 'It's worth it.' And when you're young, you tend to believe everything your parents say because they'd 'never hurt you.' So after you moved out, Chris helped you get help, and you won your long and cruel battle. Obviously, you still have your days and your moments, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. Not with your new family. People who actually cared.

"S'cuse me?" You say, your voice laced with agitation.

"Well, honey, you don't want to get fat again, do you?" She said, shoveling broccoli into her mouth.

You had stopped chewing completely, making sure you heard her correctly. You looked over at Chris, who was looking at your mom with his jaw clenched. You look back at your mom and out your hand on Chris's thigh as to tell him to relax.

You felt him put his hand over yours and squeeze, a symbol of reassurance.

You sit back in your seat, looking at your plate in defeat. Guess you were done for the night. But your dad wasn't. In fact, your dad was drunk.

"Oh, honey, leave her alone. She's not nearly as huge as she used to be." He slurred, taking another sip from his beer.

"Okay, this isn't neces-" you start, only to be cut off by your parents. Shocker.

"What do you mean? I mean, look at her, David. She's just as big as she was in high school." You mom says gesturing to you.

Your heart dropped, anger and embarrassment filling your veins. "What the fuck, mom?!" You cry out. "Not only is that something you shouldn't say about people, especially your fucking kid, but I'm also right in front of you. At least have some decency to shit-talk me in private." You remove your hand from your boyfriends lap.

Your mom looks at you in shock, and your dad squints at you. "Woah, woah, relax dear. It's not only your fault. You can't help it." She said, reaching for your hand.

You pull your hand away, a look of disgust covering your face. "I don't want to hear that, mom, why's my weight always been a big fucking obsession of yours?" You snap. You feel Chris's hand on your thigh, which you push off quickly. Usually, when you're angry, the last thing you wanted was to be touched.

"It's not my fault. You were huge. I was trying to help you. Nobody wants a pig as their bride, y/n." She spits. Her words feel like daggers, stabbing into your heart.

"You weren't trying to help. You were doing this for yourself. You never cared about it. You only did it because it made you look good to have skinny, petite children. I'm not you or any of them." You gesture to you siblings. The conversations had stopped by now, all of them watching as you and your parents bickered. Embarrassing. "You're a selfish bitch, who never cared about anybody else but herself a-"

"Hey! You watch how you speak to your mother!" Your dad stands up, and instinctively, so did you and your siblings. James and Peter were the first up, while Julia walked over and made sure Maya wasn't in the room.

Nick, Matt, and Chris all stood up too, but they weren't sure what to do, which you would've found funny, but considering the circumstances...

"Let's all relax, okay." Peter attempts to butt in. He's always been so soft-spoken, but if he needs to, he'll beat the shit outta someone. You knew what he was capable of. You'd seen it when your first boyfriend cheated on you.

Your dad directed his attention to Peter. "You shut the fuck up. You have no room to speak because you're a sorry excuse for a son." He drunkenly pointed at Peter.

"You're talking. You can't even see straight half the time, let alone be eligible to give advice." James, your younger brother spits.

Ah, you'd taught him well.

"You watch your mouth before I knock you the fuck out." Your dad spits, and that seems to shut James up. It breaks your heart knowing your father hadn't changed, and when you left, probably laid hands on your younger siblings. And it appears as though Peter's heart broke, too.

Peter stepped closer to your dad, with the same face of anger you'd seem many times before. "You hit them too, Dad? After what you promised!?" He said, his voice raised.

It was all too much. There are too many memories, too many flashbacks. There are too many similarities of past events.

"O-okay, Peter, relax." You attempt, knowing how fast this could escalate. You hold Chris's hand and squeeze tightly.

"Yeah, listen to the pig, Peter." Your father gritted his teeth.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm gonna need you to stop calling your daughter a pig." You hear an unexpected voice. Chris.

Your dad whips his head, staring at Chris with his eyebrows raised, unimpressed. Little did he know, Chris played hockey, and his brothers, who wouldn't hesitate to jump in, also played hockey.

"Chri-" You start.

"No, no, I'd like to hear what he has to say." Your father mocks.

"No! No, please let's just sto-" you get cut off again.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, Y/N." Your dad yells, taking very quick steps to you.

Chris stood in front of you, Peter and James behind your father.

"Move." He growled at Chris.

Chris sucked his teeth, with fake disappointment on his face. "Sorry, can't do that one, sir."

Your dad huffed, allowing Chris to smell every sip of alcohol he'd drunk. "Move." He stated again.

Chris shook his head. "That's my daughter! Get the fuck out of the way, tough guy."

Chris cocked his head. "Really, because based off what I've seen, you sure don't talk to her like it." He spoke, his voice calm, but stern.

That was it. Your dad snapped. He swung his fist, hitting Chris in the nose. "Dad! What the fuck!" You say.

You watch as Chris doubles over, holding his nose, followed by yelling from everyone in the room. You can't understand anything, but you do know that your dad's got his hands around your collar and is holding you close to his face.

You feel the tears start to fall as the scent of alcohol burns your nose. "You're a little bitch, letting this puny excuse of a man speak to me like that."

"Let her go, dad!" James screamed, followed by Peter's yelling.

You look over and make eye contact with your mom. She stood there, arms crossed, not a single expression on her face. She just let it happen.

Your dad shook you. "LOOK AT ME." He shouted in your face. You closed your eyes, as tears began to fall.

"CHRIS NO!" Nick yells. That's all you hear before you dropped. You didn't realize he was choking you until he let go. You look up and see Chris on top of your dad, landing blows like he if were in a hockey game. Your dad got a few heavy punches in, too, as you expected.

Chris had a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and crimson knuckles. Blood stained his big hands, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your father's.

Matt and Nick finally managed to push Chris out of the house, leaving you and your family. Your dad was still screaming drunk profanities, while James made sure you were okay. Peter and your mom held your dad back from chasing your boyfriend.

You had walked out of the dining room and went to sit on the stairs. Tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself slip into a familiar but unfamiliar trance. You were completely unaware of your surroundings at this point, so lost in your brain that the rest of your body was just frozen.

You don't know how long you are disassociating for, but you heard muffled shouting until you didn't. The yelling was replaced with ringing, something your brain did as a coping mechanism, mostly when you were young and hiding with your siblings in the bathroom while your dad trashed your home.

"-aby, can you take a deep breath from me?" You look up, but your vision is blurred, and you can't make out who's speaking - or anything for that matter.

You blink slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It usually took you a while to come back to reality during these moments.

"Can someone get her a cup of water?" You hear the voice again, and despite your yearning to speak, you can't get any words out. Your mouth opens, and you try to speak, but it comes out more of a choked whine.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart, it's okay." Chris wipes the tears coming for your cheeks. Your pupils were enlarged, and your eyes were open, but you couldn't see.

"Thank you." Chris muttered as Matt handed him a cup of ice water. "Here, baby." He put his hands in the icy water, shaking them, so his hands are damp. He took your hands, which had a death grip on your hoodie, and rubbed his cold fingers over your knuckles.

You focused on the feeling of his frigid fingers and you felt yourself coming back to reality.

You blink quickly as more tears fall. "Aw ma, don't cry, it's okay, sweetheart." Chris coos, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs on the bone.

His attempts to ground you are successful, as your eyes finally focus on his eyes. "Hey, hey, you coming back to me, baby?" Chris asks, his voice soothingly attempting to comfort you.

You nod absent-mindedly, relief flooding your body as you come back to reality.

You take in your surroundings for the first time in what felt like forever. You're sat on the stairs, your hands shaking from the adrenaline flowing through your veins.

You finally make eye contact with Chris, his eyes full of love and worry. He's got a bruise on the side of his face, a busted lip, and blood falling from his nose, smeared on his upper lip.

"Chris..." you say, cupping his face, rubbing his cheeks down to his lip, frowning when he winced. "Baby..."

He pulls away, chuckling lightly. "It's fine, baby, I'm okay. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." He squeezed your hips in reassurance.

"I'm okay." You say. But then your mind screams at you. "Fuck, where's Maya... an-and, James. Oh, fuck, what about Julia and Pet-" your cut off by Chris's lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, your hands trailing down his neck.

He pulls away and smiles sadly. "Thank you." You whisper, looking down. "Anytime, baby. I'm so sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry." He said, leaning his forehead on yours.

You shake your head. "It's okay, he's a fucking asshole." Chris kisses your cheek. "Let's get outta here? I made a little bit of a mess."

You raise your eyebrows. "A little?" Chris kisses his teeth and scoffs.

You smile and kiss his cheek. "Anybody would've done it, Chris. It's okay, really." You speak softly.

Chris smiles and helps you up. "Let's go home." He leads you down the stairs and reaches for the door.

But it opens before he can open it.

"Oh my god."

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(Man, I wonder who that is)

Taglist: @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @sturniolosmind @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir

@annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper @matty-bear @orangelala @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @blackhorses-posts @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @@Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @Larnieboox88 @Preppy234

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo x male reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x you

[hey-august]

Time to wake up | NSFW (Buggy x afab!reader)

GIF from goodsirs

Description: After a night of partying, Buggy seeks out your attention, only to discover that you're already asleep. Despite his "best" attempts at not waking you, something else is up and ready for some action.

Word count: ~1.9k

A/N: One shot smut with an established relationship. Based on OPLA buggy. Let me know if you see any errors or typos. ♡

Warnings: Not beta read. NC-17. → MDNI ← A moment of dry-humping. PIV, reader on top. Buggy is slightly inebriated but not deeply intoxicated. Buggy is also a whiney and apologetic mess. afab!reader, no use of Y/N. All parties are consenting adults.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

At the end of a long night of celebrations, filled to the brim with drinks, laughter, tall-tales, raunchy shanties, and - everyone’s favorite - arguments that could only be solved with fights, Buggy made his way to his captain’s quarters. He clumsily crawled into the bed where you have been sleeping after slipping out of the party a few hours ago. Although the sheets were full of your body heat, the pirate wanted to get closer the heat source. 

Buggy snuggled against your sleeping form and pulled your back into his bare chest. He rested his head behind yours, enjoying how your hair caressed his face. He found your sweet scent tantalizing and overwhelming. Although he wasn’t drunk, he had enough alcohol coasting through his body to enhance his senses and fuel his imagination. The downside of those effects was the effort it took to process stimulation, and the numerous thoughts made it harder for him to keep his mind organized.

A subtle shift in your resting position nestled you into Buggy’s body, as if you were the first two pieces of a puzzle to fit together. Buggy took advantage of the movement, putting his face into the crook of your neck and pressing his hips against yours. His lips grazed your skin and his brain wrestled with the desire to kiss and nip your neck. Unfortunately for him, the thoughts fought back, bolstered by the swelling happening between his legs.

A few kisses couldn’t hurt, right? He started with pressing his lips against your neck, not really a kiss. When you didn’t stir, he gave in - little pecks, small licks, shaky breaths muffled against your skin. Buggy was so focused on trying to stay in control while tasting as much of you as possible, that he lost track of other sensations his body was seeking. His hips were moving on their own, pressing his hard length into your backside. Small movements, just enough to get pressure. A deep breath from your body, so light it sounded like a sigh, broke his concentration. The pirate clown stilled, afraid he woke you up.

“Bugs, do you want to have sex?” you asked in a voice still coated with sleep. Buggy shook his head against your neck.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, “I was gonna stop.” His voice was slow and heavy from partying and the lust he was trying to downplay.

“Babe, I woke up when you practically fell into the bed.”

“M’sorry, didn’t mean it.” He hugged you closer. It was intended to be a sweet gesture, but once again the sweet whisper of alcohol suggested he put extra pressure on his erection. You didn’t miss how his hard cock twitched against you, begging for more attention.

“I don’t mind, we can have sex,” you offered again, this time upping the ante by pressing against him. 

Buggy’s breath hitched but he didn’t respond. He was stuck in a tornado of different responses, thoughts, and visions, unable to find the one he wanted. You grabbed the arm wrapped around your waist and guided his hand under your sleeping shirt and placed it on your breast. He squeezed. A sign of life. Buggy felt your body melt against his at the sensation and the storm in his mind faded away. 

Buggy finally nodded and muttered another apology while kissing your neck, “M’sorry, wanna fuck you so bad…” This time the kisses were sloppy and heated, interspaced with small nips.

You broke free from his grasp and turned around to face the pirate captain. Under his clownish face paint, Buggy’s eyebrows carried a hint of a scowl, his eyes were dark and glazed with lust, and a blush spread across the unpainted sections of his face. While he didn’t have enough alcohol to get drunk, he was absolutely intoxicated by you. As bad as Buggy felt about waking you up, it was clear that he was so desperately horny that only you would do. 

You captured his lips in an intense kiss and distracted him with your tongue so you could pull off your underwear without his roaming hands interfering. You broke the kiss to pull off your top and directed your captain to take off the only article of clothing he had on, thankful that he only ever slept in his boxers. Buggy obliged dutifully and looked at you with an expectant look, waiting for his next order.

“Let me take care of you,” you said, straddling him. His piercing green eyes watched as you got into position. You could see his feral hunger but there was also another more morose expression. Guilt.

“You sure you want this, Buggy?” The soft expression in your eyes was somehow still strong enough to sting his heart.

“I didn’t wanna wake you…didn’t mean it, m’so sorry.” His face crinkled into a scowl, frustrated with himself. You felt bad that he felt so conflicted, but seeing this man at odds with his love for you and his love for your body had your stomach in knots and your pussy dripping.

“It’s fine, sweetie. Do you want to-?” Despite avoiding your gaze, his strong grip on your hips and bashful nod were affirmation enough. 

You took your cue to lower yourself onto the pirate clown, your heart pounding wildly as the tip made way for the rest of his thick cock. You moved slowly, relying on your slick juices to make the intrusion easier. Buggy’s thickness always stretched you to your limit, creating a delicious burn for you and a plush tight prison for him. 

Through half-lidded eyes, you observed Buggy. His head was tilted back slightly as his body remained tense under your touch, eyes closed and lashes fluttering, all under knitted brows. Under the surface, he was fighting the impulse to slam you down onto his cock and fuck you into oblivion. 

With his previous internal turmoils, the alcohol was his adversary. This time it was on his side. There was no way the pirate could ravage your body the way his unfettered thoughts cried out for. Honestly, Buggy was already closer to the edge than he normally was at this point. He had already been enroute to making a mess in his boxers while humping you from behind.

You began to rock your hips back and forth, feeling Buggy’s fingers dig deeper into your hips. He wasn’t guiding you, just holding on for dear life. You were a buoy and he was afraid of sinking into the murky depths of the ocean alone. 

“Ahhh, fuuuuck, baby…” Buggy groaned in a low voice. “..f-feels s’good,” the words came out strung together with raw ecstasy. He felt your cunt squeeze at the comment, the additional tightness nearly painful. His hips jolted at the increase in pressure as his impatient cock seeked relief.

“Fuck, Buggy!” you gasped, unprepared for his contribution to what you expected to be a solo dance. His movement stuttered at your cry.

“M’sorry, baby, I-I’m so s-sorry,” he whined, “you f-feel so good.” His green eyes looked up at you apologetically while his large hands pawed at your hips, still fighting the battle of keeping his body under control. You held still for a moment, unable to do much but let your cunt squeeze fruitlessly against his throbbing cock. Each contraction caused every bit of his member to massage your sensitive walls, sending tickles of sensation through your body and bringing you closer to climax.

A quiet whimper pulled you back to the bed, a heavy anchor tethering your mind and attention.

 “P-please, m’so close,” Buggy pleaded, shifting his body under yours. Needy hands ran up and down your thighs, having given up on gripping your hips. “W-want you so bad…please wanna come…”

You nodded wordlessly and bounced up and down, wanting nothing more than to give your captain what he wanted. Buggy watched your beautiful form ride his cock, his normally talkative mouth quiet and agape. No matter how many times he’s had this experience, he was always in awe watching your lewd expressions, how your tantalizing cunt accepted his large cock, and the way your hedonistic body moved above him.

Desperate hands returned to their rightful place on your hips. His fingertips dug in deeply, bracing you against the new pace and intensity his hips were going to deliver. Buggy was about to drown in the impending wave building in his body and he couldn’t let you go. As the wave began to crest, slurred words began to pour from Buggy’s cunt-drunk mouth.

“S-so close, please, gonna come…m’sorry b-baby, gonna come. Your cu- unnngh, you f-feel so good. P-please, please, please…” 

Each thrust rubbed his cock against that sweet spot inside you, building pressure through your body until all you could see were the stars flashing in your eyes. Buggy’s movements grew more erratic as his orgasm coursed through his body, from the continued whining flowing from his mouth to the hot streams of cum that began to flood your insides. The throbbing that accompanied each spurt was nearly enough to send you to the stars you were seeing, however, you could feel his eager movements start to ebb away. You rolled your hips, chasing the climax that was only breaths away.

“Oh, f-fuck!” Buggy cried out as the tide in his body retreated and the stimulation from your continued movements increased. His body wiggled helplessly, not in an attempt to get away, but to ease the feeling of overstimulation. The sight of your captain, the fearsome clown pirate, writhing underneath you, muttering and whining words you could no longer pull apart, while still creating bruises on your hips from his man-handling, because he wanted you to finish, was more than enough for you. Buggy feebly attempted to keep your hips moving as you rode through your climax.

You collapsed onto Buggy’s chest as your orgasm teetered out, fighting the twitches that were still lighting up in your body with each beat of your heart. Buggy’s chest heaved under your body, a deep hollow wind accompanied by his own heavy heartbeat. His arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace and he rubbed his chin on the top of your head.

“You’re sooo good, y’feel so good, baby. M’so sorry, had to cum so b-bad. M’sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, just w-wanted you so bad...”

At this point, you weren’t sure if he was talking to you anymore, or if the clown was broken and saying whatever words were left in his empty head. While you wanted to lay on him longer, you made the great effort in rolling off of his body, wincing as his softening member slipped out alongside some of the extra fluid inside you. Laying next to the incoherent clown - whose body was going through a merry-go-round of tension and relaxation as it attempted to come down from all the stimulation you delivered - you tilted his face towards yours.

“Bugs, it’s fine. I’m glad you woke me up for this, okay?” you affirmed in a gentle but straightforward voice. You nodded as you spoke, prompting him to nod back. It was hard to say if he really heard what you were saying, but the calmness that crossed his face was enough for this moment.

Buggy gave another small nod before closing his eyes and allowing his body to fully relax. You kissed his shoulder and basked in the afterglow with him. There was a mess to clean up and you would both need to actually prepare for bed, but you weren’t ready to leave this moment behind yet.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A/N: there's probably a joke here about a clown shaped alarm cock clock 🤡

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #one piece smut #buggy smut #buggy the clown smut #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #x reader

[springwitch26]

Hey you're writing is so beautiful and *cough cough* incredibly hot, would you be down to write a Melissa brat tamer oneshot 😅

No pressure ofc!

-anon

tear you apart (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: you're feeling bratty and melissa is all too happy to punish you.

warnings: smut (18+), brat taming, punishment, degradation, spanking, humiliation, overstim, voyeurism? basically unhinged content + agatha harkness obsession disease 💜

notes: thank you anon for your kind words and this request! hope this is worth the wait. melissa is such a brat tamer and i'm reminded of that every time she makes a biting comment or threatens to fight someone. she needs a girl who can take it and then give it right back.

all you ever wanted was to make melissa feel good.

you knew from the start of your relationship that she was a top. but at first, you weren't sure what she liked: did she want you to be her good girl? or did she enjoy a challenge?

within a few weeks, you had pieced together the answer: it depended on the day. on bad days, all she wanted was her sweet, obedient angel.

one night she came home deflated, having fought with barbara over a teacher appreciation gift from the district. she pulled you into her and didn't let go, holding you close through hours of gentle sex. you were so soft, so comforting, so good.

"come sit on my lap, babydoll," she had said, patting her legs where she sat on the sofa. you obliged.

"are you okay?" you asked, searching her eyes for frustration and regret.

"i am now," she whispered as she caressed up your thighs, smiling as you nuzzled into her neck to hide your whimper. "just do what i say 'n make your pretty noises, and i'll be just fine."

good days were a different story. competition and conflict excited melissa. she felt most like herself when she was telling somebody off or winning some game. so, when things were quiet at work or when she was feeling playful, you were more than happy to give her the challenge she craved. your attitude drove her insane, and putting you in your place was always exhilarating.

tonight was a good night. you could tell from the moment she walked in the door, carrying that massive read-a-thon belt. she was on top of the world after her victory, and now she needed another conquest.

you twirled around the kitchen as you cooked dinner in your thin sleep shirt and little shorts. melissa loved seeing you like this: comfy, happy, and best of all, lightly clothed.

you smirked to yourself as you hatched a plan. instead of greeting her like usual, you pretended not to see her come in. then you held up your phone and took a selfie that just happened to provide a view down your shirt. melissa saw it all.

"whatcha doin', hon?" melissa raised an eyebrow at you, still smiling from a great day at work.

"oh, nothing. just texting ava," you replied coyly. melissa's jaw clenched ever so subtly.

you had been friends with ava since back when you were still working at abbott. melissa wasn't jealous of your friendship with ava. no, what irritated her was how shamelessly ava would check you out and hit on you. ava's advances were never serious, she knew that. but melissa also knew that ava hit on you at least as much as she did gregory, and that was a problem in her book.

you smiled at her and went back to your cooking like it was nothing. you were in for a fight tonight.

...

when you sat down in the living room to binge-watch wandavision after dinner, melissa attempted to stroke up your thighs several times. you refused her and innocently cuddled into her side.

all was going according to plan until you heard agatha say "good girl" on the television. you shuddered and pressed your legs together, and it did not go unnoticed by melissa.

"aw, hon. does that make you feel needy?"

she had the upper hand. but you could still salvage this.

"yes, agatha drives me crazy," you said, meeting her gaze and giving her a sultry smug look.

"i thought you liked wanda..." she grumbled, her jaw clenched. it was working.

"mmm no, agatha is more my type," you drawled. you remembered melissa dressed as the scarlet witch. that sinfully sexy costume. she had done it for you.

the fact that you were switching up on her now made her livid. your type? she wasn't your type?

"god, kathryn hahn..." you whispered when the camera focused in on agatha's magical fingers, absolutely selling that you were turned on. it pushed melissa over the edge.

in one swift move, she shut the tv off and crawled on top of you, pushing you into the couch by your sternum. the look in her eyes was dark, fiery, dangerous.

"take your clothes off," melissa growled, fire bubbling behind her eyes.

she pulled herself off of you and sat looking you over from the other end of the couch, an expectant look on her face.

"yes, ma'am," you scrambled to comply with her instructions, stripping eagerly in front of her.

"leave the panties on," melissa stopped you before you could drag your thong down your legs. "on the bed."

the two of you rushed up the stairs and over to the bedroom, her grabbing at your waist the entire time. melissa sat back against the pillows, her legs spread for you. she gestured between her legs and you knew what she wanted.

you squealed and quickly adjusted yourself to straddle her, your legs on either side of hers as you unbuttoned her shirt. she sat upright against the pillows, her messy hair framing her heated face.

once you had removed her shirt and bra, she fisted her hands in your hair and pushed your head downward. you quietly whimpered at the manhandling. she took the initiative to swiftly pull her pants and panties down to her ankles, giving you just one firm command: "be a good girl."

you parted her legs gently and dove in, licking wide stripes up her folds but avoiding her clit to tease her. it wasn't long before you felt a fist in your hair, pulling you off of her to meet her frustrated gaze.

"unless you want red handprints all over your ass, don't fuckin' tease," she sneered.

you were torn: you wanted that punishment, but you also wanted to be a good girl for her. you chose to be good for now, attaching your lips to her clit and making her groan in satisfaction. you could always push her buttons later.

"that's it, honey, right there," she choked out as you swirled your tongue around her clit. she wouldn't last long, already worked up from seeing you strip for her.

you lapped at her and sucked on her bundle of nerves, enjoying the chorus of good girl and don't stop until you felt her legs start to tremble around you. at that point, you pulled back, leaving her bucking up into nothing.

you gave her a mischievous grin and started to trace your lips with your thumb absentmindedly. you watched her seethe in anger, never taking her eyes off of you.

"oh, sorry, i think i smudged my lipstick. give me a second," you could hardly contain your giddiness at how angry she looked. you needed her to lose control.

without missing a beat, she grabbed your hair and forcefully pushed you back between her legs. all of her gentleness was gone.

"such a dumb fucking slut. can't even follow simple instructions," she scolded. "finish me off, whore, and then we'll work on your behavior."

you felt yourself get soaked again at the manhandling, her seething words and her promise to punish you. eager to make up for your misbehavior, you ate her out with reckless abandon. she reached her high within minutes, whispering filthy things to you the whole time.

"fuck, that's good. lookin' up at me like that with your big doe eyes. i'm gonna come all over that pretty, smart mouth."

she came with a low groan, coating your lips in her wetness. the sight was pornographic: you looked at her with hooded eyes and wet lips, slightly fearful of her next move. it was exhilarating.

when she had recovered, she sat up and stared you down, a twisted smirk on her face. you swore you knew what she would say before the words left her mouth.

"bend over my lap, beautiful." her tone was dark, but you could hear the excitement behind her words.

you scrambled to obey, laying face-down on her lap with your ass up, wiggling gently in front of her. enticing her.

for a minute, there was silence. she just watched in amusement as you squirmed in her lap, desperate for any kind of attention from her. from where she sat, she could see your arousal glistening on your thighs. she was drunk on the power.

"a little desperate, hmmm?" she teased. you nodded frantically. she started to trace light patterns on your ass with her fingernail. "let me tell you what's gonna happen now. i'm gonna spank your cute little ass until you're crying and begging me to stop. then, i'm gonna fuck you until you're so sensitive that you can't stand to be touched any more. sound good?"

while she was nonchalant, you were almost at your breaking point from her words alone. you were completely at her mercy. you managed a "yes" and nodded intently for her to continue with her plan, desperate to see it through to the end.

it was hardly a second later when she slapped your ass, hard. you should have seen it coming, but you still yelped in surprise. you felt throbbing between your legs as the pain spread through you.

this went on for a while, and eventually you lost count of how many times she'd hit your backside. tears rolled down your cheeks, and you hardly felt them. and you were soaking her lap with your arousal. melissa whispered filthy things to you the entire time.

"my pretty, little, brat," she emphasized each word with a harder slap.

when it finally stopped, she started to caress you all over and praise you for taking your punishment so well. her soft touch brought you back to reality, and she guided you to sit up.

"wow, sweetheart. you really made a mess," melissa said, gesturing to her legs which were sticky with your wetness. you hid your face in your hands.

"stop it, you know i wanna see you. in fact..." she trailed off with a smirk and reached to grab her phone off the nightstand. "touch yourself."

your mouth fell open at the command, and she gave you a challenging look. not wanting to push her any farther tonight, you did as she asked and tried to find a comfortable position.

"spread 'em wide, princess," she said, smiling down at her phone like she wasn't watching your every move.

a burning heat ran through you at her words. you leaned back and started to gently circle your clit through your panties, anxiously awaiting her next move. you were a whimpering, blushing mess when she finally looked up at you with a grin.

"stay just like that," she said while bringing her phone up to point it at you. you heard the clicking noise of the iphone camera and your eyes widened. melissa had never done anything like this before.

"w-what are you doing?" you barely managed the sentence as your fingers worked you up, making you gasp.

"oh, just givin' myself a little treat for later," she replied coyly. "and maybe next time you act up, i'll show ya these. make ya remember your place."

you shifted uncomfortably, feeling hot all over from your fingers and the humiliation. melissa noticed and put her phone aside to look in your eyes.

"color?" she whispered.

"pink..." you replied shyly. that meant she could keep going. she smiled and cupped your face in her hands, kissing you softly.

her hand traveled down to remove yours from between your legs. she finally laid you down on the bed, running her hands up your thighs. your legs fell open for her and she leaned in to inspect your swollen folds.

she hummed as she trailed two fingers through your wetness, earning her a pitiful noise. when she pulled away and mosied over to the dresser drawer, you knew what she was going to do.

"i think you're wet enough for the strap, don't you?" she pulled out a bright red one that you had never seen before. she watched your eyes as you reacted to its size.

"i bought this as a surprise for you knowin' you'd go crazy over it," she mused as she adjusted the harness and attached the dildo to it.

"mel, it's... big," you said, looking up at her with wide eyes as she positioned herself above you.

"yeah, hon, that's why i bought it," she teased, smirking as if it was the most obvious reply in the world. you breathed a sigh of relief as she covered the strap in a thick layer of lube.

she took the cock in one hand and maneuvered it through your folds, pressing on your clit and making you cry out. you shuddered when she positioned it at your entrance.

"you ready for me?" melissa trailed a finger under your chin and forced you to meet her eyes.

"pink," you breathed, and she pushed the tip in. you felt the stretch immediately, and melissa used her free hand to rub your abdomen soothingly.

she continued to work her way into you, her hand never stopping its comforting motions. when she bottomed out, you felt so full you could hardly breathe. it was a thrill.

you nodded at her to signal she could move, and she started to fuck you slow and hard. the size of the strap-on allowed her to hit places that you'd never felt before, and you couldn't hold back your moans.

her thrusts became rougher very quickly, and she dug her thumbs into your hips to balance herself. you knew there would be marks there tomorrow. her pace and the low groans she let out suggested that she was still hanging on to some frustration in need of release.

she hit your g-spot and you screamed, overwhelmed with the feeling of her. she noticed the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching: shaking legs, parted lips, strangled moans. in response, melissa reached down to rub your bundle of nerves roughly, and that sent you over the edge.

"good girl, so good," she coaxed you through your high. you thought she would stop after one. oh how naive you were. you were trembling and squirming away from her, and she just continued to rub your clit, rocking gently inside you.

"come on, honey, give me another, i know you can," she encouraged you, peppering you with sweet kisses. you nodded and she started to fuck you again in earnest.

every nerve ending in your body was buzzing, and all you could feel was melissa. she thrusted into you like her life depended on it, and you admired her face as she worked you. her red hair hung around her face, which had also become red from the exertion. it felt amazing—hell, it felt insane—to feel her hitting all the most sensitive spots inside you. but it felt even more amazing to have the sexiest woman on the planet on top of you, working your body like it was her life's mission.

when your second orgasm washed over you, it was more intense than the first. it drained all the power from your body and you surrendered yourself to your fiery lover. she again whispered sweet nothings in your ear to help you along. when you had stopped shuddering, she pulled out.

you caught your breath and watched her rise to her feet, humming as she took off the strap. you could see a devious glint in her expression that told you you weren't done quite yet.

after that small taste of relief, melissa stalked over to you and spread your legs once more. you whined in discomfort, too sensitive to take any more.

"shhhh, baby, lemme clean you," she soothed before beginning to lap at you, savoring your taste. she tried to avoid your clit but her nose brushed against it, bringing a pained noise from you. she hummed into you and kept going, stroking your legs to relax you.

after you had gotten comfortable with the feeling of her tongue she drifted up to your clit, circling it but avoiding direct contact. you gasped and bucked up into her mouth despite your best efforts. even the smallest touch felt like an electric shock.

when your whines turned to quiet moans, melissa wrapped her mouth around your clit and started to suck, rolling her tongue over it. the pressure was white-hot and deadly, and it sent you over the edge in seconds.

"my sweet angel, i love you, you did so well for me..." she comforted you through the comedown. she stroked your sides and you relaxed into her touch, your heartbeat finally slowing. she placed a fond kiss on your forehead, then got up to get a washcloth and some water for you.

...

"i won the read-a-thon today..." she said while she cleaned you.

"i noticed," you giggled, smiling up at her. the love in her eyes made the green irises sparkle and swim with possibility. "i'm so proud of you."

"you coulda said that earlier!" she joked, recalling your misbehavior. there was a comfortable silence before she spoke again. "actually, i think i like it when you fight me a little."

you gazed at her fondly and laughed again, feeling warm and cared for. "i noticed."

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti/reader #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #wlw fanfic #smut #melissa schemmenti smut

[simp4wom3n]

A Broken Promise

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request

Summary: You had both promised to never take your emotions out on the other. What happens when Jenna has a particularly bad day and snaps. ~ Word Count: 2.112k ~ Warnings: swearing and quite angsty but there is fluff

A/N: Hi!! I’m writing these quite quickly cos I’m really trying to crank these out for you guys so hopefully they r still good. Also my first angst fic!! I hope you guys like it because I personally love some angst and it’s quite fun, and heartbreaking, to write. ANYWAYS I hope you guys enjoy <3

Filming for 8 months in a foreign country was bound to be stressful, but you had no idea how much it would effect your relationship. You and Jenna had been together for over 2 years and before you started dating, you made a promise to each other that you wouldn’t take out your emotions on the other, that you would work through them together and everything would be ok. That promise had lasted flawlessly for the entirety of your relationship. Your relationship was constantly praised by your friends, and the two of you hardly ever fought. It was all going smoothly. Until tonight.

The clock had just struck 10pm when you heard the familiar jingle of keys at the front door. Given that she left early this morning, you were instantly worried by how late it was. As a result, you stood up and walked to the doorway. Entering the apartment with small shuffling steps, her pure exhaustion was plastered across her face as she dropped all of her stuff into a heap on the ground. “Hey” you greeted softly with a soft smile to which you got no response. Instead she walked straight past you, ignoring your entire existence which caused your face to scrunch in confusion.

“Hey is everything ok?” you questioned swiftly following her as she made her way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “Mhm” she hummed, still not even looking in your direction. “Jenna? Hey what’s wrong? Talk to me.” you pleaded following her around like a lost dog. “Not now” she responded coldly, causing your face to drop slightly. She had never before ignored you so plainly. Sure she had her moments, so did you, but she would normally search for you when she was in a sour mood. She used to crave your presence, now it seems she can’t stand it. As much as you wanted to fulfill her request of leaving her alone, you made a promise to never let her suffer alone.

You had followed her, pleading for an answer, all the way into the living room where she attempted to relax on the couch, her irritation evident as she harshly bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration whilst dropping her head. “Jenna. Please.” now kneeling down to match her eye level, you tried to maintain your own composure because at this point her mood was even getting on your nerves. “I said not now!!” she snaps suddenly, looking at you with something you could only describe as hatred. Your face immediately dropped. She had never talked to you like this. Her words burned wholes into your heart as she continued to yell at you. “What don’t you understand about leaving me the fuck alone! I obviously don’t want to talk to you right now so why the fuck are you so goddamn persistent! You are so fucking annoying sometimes. Just… leave me alone” she screams, her voice fading out into a whisper. At this point any hope of keeping your promise had flown out the window. Your heart ached as tears starting to cascade down your cheeks.

“Well if that’s how you feel.” you brokenly whisper, shakily wiping your tears as you get to your feet. You just look at her for a minute, hugging yourself as you hold onto one last piece of hope that she will apologise, or at least look at you with some kind of remorse, yet all she does is just look blankly at the floor, refusing to acknowledge you. “Ok” you breathe as you nod solemnly, tears still pouring down your cheeks, as you walk briskly towards your spare bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

As she hears the door of the spare bedroom click shut, Jenna audibly sighs, running her fingers through her hair. She felt like utter shit. Not only was filming absolutely exhausting, and completely drained her of any common sense, but she just broke her promise to never take her emotions out on you. ‘What the fuck did I do’ she thought, internally cursing herself for using your own insecurities against you. She knew how conscious you were about being ‘too annoying’ when it came to being around other people, and she had always reassured you that you weren’t annoying in the slightest. And then she said shit like that. She didn’t even have the guts to look you in the eyes when she said it, she couldn’t bare to see the look on your face as she completely crushed you. She knew she had messed up, she just hoped it wasn’t too late to fix it.

As a single tear made its way down her cheek, she hastily wiped it away as she stood up determined to apologise. She scolded herself for crying, she had no right to cry. She was the one who insulted you and made you feel like nothing but a nuisance. As she approached the door to the spare bedroom, she could hear your quiet, muffled sobs, completely shattering her heart. She did this to you. As she reached for the handle, she gently attempted to open the door only to discover that you had locked it.

Taking this as a sign that you wanted nothing to do with her, she sucked in a breath and rested her forehead against the door. “I’m so sorry Y/n” she whispered, her voice breaking as she allows her tears to fall. “Please forgive me. I love you.” she cried quietly. She stayed there for a moment, letting what just happened truly sink in, before she leans back, slowly walking to your normally shared bedroom.

Still dressed in what she wore to set, she headed immediately for your shared walk-in closet. As she walked in she was flooded by your familiar scent, one which typically filled her with warmth, now filling her with dread. Despite this, Jenna immediately looked towards your half of the closet, digging through your clothes until she found her favourite shirt of yours. She brought it up to her face, inhaling your scent as her tears begin to resurface. She strips down to her underwear and throws the shirt on over the top, attempting to fill the void of your presence with your scent.

Once in bed, the hollowness of your side hangs heavy on her heart. Your warm presence that is always in some way touching her, whether its just a finger or its cuddling so tight all either of you feel is each other, is missing and has taken a piece of her heart with it. Despite her numerous attempts to sleep, she couldn’t take her mind off of you, hoping at the least you are also missing her presence as much as she is missing yours. Despite the rogue tears escaping her eyes, she eventually finds sleep.

You awoke as the sun shone through the windows, instantly reminded of the events of last night. The ache of your post-cry headache and lack of your girlfriends warmth was enough to make you want to bury yourself within the covers, never to resurface. You had heard her last night, her attempt to apologise to you. You could hear her crying on the other side of the door, and as much as you wanted to forgive her, no one has ever wounded you so deeply. The one person who normally reassured you that you weren’t too much, that your presence wasn’t a burden, just admitted that it was by screaming it in your face.

Eventually the pounding of your headache caught up to you and you were forced to leave the sanctuary that has become the spare bedroom. Chucking on an old hoodie from the closet, one which you had stored there due to the lack of space in your shared closet, you throw the hood over you head and slowly open the door. You take quiet and hesitant steps towards the kitchen, hoping that if Jenna was around she wouldn’t notice you.

As the kitchen came into view, you immediately noticed Jenna’s figure sat on top of the island, a cup of coffee in hand, wearing your favourite t shirt. ‘Well that’s unfortunate’ you murmur inwardly, your initial plan of completely avoiding her coming crashing down as her eyes glance in your direction. Her posture immediately straightens, her face brightening slightly, as you stride into the kitchen, determined to get what you came for and get the fuck out.

“Hey.” she croaks, her own crying evident in her voice. “Can we talk?”. The words you always prayed would never be spoken between you two, the telltale sign that something had gone wrong. You completely ignored her question as you walked straight past her, her eyes following your every move as you kept your head down and hood on. You swiftly grab a bottle of water from the fridge before moving to the cupboard to grab a snack so you can hopefully avoid coming back.

“Please” she pleaded, her voice breaking as she begged for you to just hear her out. You risk a glance towards her as you were about to return to your self-imprisonment. A glance you quickly regretted. She was hugging herself with an iron grip as her lips trembled and she cried quietly. You always hated seeing her cry, especially if you knew you had caused it. “Just here me out please” she begged in broken words. You sighed audibly before sending her a small nod as you leaned your back against the countertop.

You caught the small look of surprise in her eyes as you agreed to listen, obviously not expecting you to agree to talk to her. “I am so fucking sorry Y/N… I love you so fucking much and… and you deserve the world and I treated you like absolute shit.” She began, starting to sob as she apologised profusely. All you wanted to do was to comfort her but your pride got in the way as you watched her continue to breakdown. “I… I broke our promise and I know… I know how much that meant to you and trust me, it meant a lot to me too.” she paused taking a deep, uneven breath, “I don’t find you annoying you know that. I shouldn’t have said that, I never should have said that, I don’t know why I said that”. Her panicked ranting made your emotionless facade slip, as you felt your own tears threaten to fall. “I just… I just snapped I don’t know. I don’t know why I did that. You didn’t deserve that. But I promise Y/N… I promise you, I will never… never do that again. I love you so much I can’t even fathom hurting you… I hate that I hurt you… please can you forgive me.”

At first you said nothing. You just stood there, looking at her, admiring her, thinking about her. You would be stupid not to forgive her. She was the love of your life, you weren’t going to let her slip away over something so small she obviously regretted deeply. As your tears finally fell, you ducked your head, still remaining silent causing Jenna to panic slightly. “Say something please” she begged in a broken whisper. What you did next caught her off guard. Lifting up your head, tear stains evident on your cheeks, you give her a soft smirk as you push yourself off the counter, approaching her slowly before pulling her into a hug. She instantly melted into the embrace, squeezing her eyes closed as she buries her head into your chest. With one hand around her waist and one cradling her head, you place gentle kisses into her hair, whispering sweet nothings. “It’s ok.” you repeated over and over again, reassuring her that you had in fact forgiven her.

After bathing in each others touch for a few minutes, Jenna gently lifts her head from your chest, tilting her head up to meet you eyes. “I’m so sor…” her breath catches in her throat as she is overcome with emotions, another tear slipping down her cheek. “Hey hey it’s ok” you comfort, gently wiping the tear away. “I love you” she manages to sputter, bringing a small smile to your lips. You gently grasp her chin in your hand, guiding her face up towards you, tilting your head slightly and capturing her lips with yours. Her hands rest on your cheeks as she melts into the kiss, humming in satisfaction against your lips. As your lips slowly part, your hand softly stroking her cheek, you look deeply into your girlfriend’s eyes as you whisper, “I love you too”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega request #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega angst #jenna ortega fluff #wednesday netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #fanfic #simp4wom3n #wednesday addams #netflix wednesday

[not-neverland06]

Bad Day

pt. two

part one

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) warnings: reader embracing the dark side, graphic descriptions of violence Summary: Another set of tourists, but this one’s different. You actually have to meet this group. They’re particularly difficult, too, causing more damage than any of you expected. Can you survive the night, again?

You focused on the way the knife glinted as it spread mayonnaise over the bread. You watched it glide through the thick substance and brought it back down, flipping the blade and smoothing and spreading it-

Your fingers tightened around the handle and you winced as you slammed your eyes shut. You couldn’t be around blades, even ones as dull as this, without thinking of that night. 

You’d fought, more than anyone else ever had, Bo told you. You’d also killed one of your friends in cold blood, no one had ever done that either. 

He had been tied up and vulnerable and you hadn’t even given him a fair shot at surviving you. 

You didn’t feel guilty about it, and that’s the part that haunts you. You didn’t try to justify your actions and cry yourself to sleep over the guilt you felt for being alive while your friends lay scattered throughout town. You slept deeply, peacefully, in the arms of the men who murdered them. 

You’d wake up after having a dream about that night and you would feel exhilarated because it had been the first time you’d ever truly stood up for yourself. You reveled in the power you’d felt when you’d swung that ax into his neck. 

You didn’t even remember their names. 

How fucked up was that?

You basked in the memories of their demise but their faces were lost to you. One blur that bled together the more you tried to picture them. 

You didn’t mourn them or feel pity, you felt no guilt, and that’s what fucked with you. Were you a bad person?

You had to be. 

But you’d never been one before Ambrose. 

You distracted yourself from the thoughts. You’d spiral and never get back up if you let yourself go down the rabbit hole. You tore off a piece of turkey and threw it at Jonesy, she pounced on it the second it hit the floor. 

You finished the sandwiches, one going into a brown paper bag the other a plate that you wrapped with plastic. You left the kitchen, winding around boxes and junk that they called sentimental. You’d gotten into a nasty fight with Bo a few months ago about cleaning the house up a little, but he had refused. 

You hadn’t realized how many beers he’d had that night and chosen the wrong moment to suggest change. Something he was staunchly against. He hadn’t hit you, never had, but he’d thrown a bottle near your head, the glass shattering and bouncing off the wall. Some of it had hit you, scraping up the back of your arms and legs. It wasn’t too bad, but you hadn’t felt that terrified of him since the night you came here. 

You’d been petty, stolen his keys and camped out in one of the houses in town. You hadn’t been able to get any sleep, not with the wax family watching you, but it had gotten the message across. Lester had told you Bo thought you’d left and lost his fucking shit. Vincent, apparently, had been even worse. 

By the time you got back the house was in worse shape then when you’d left. 

Bo had told you he’d think about cleaning some of the stuff out. That had been three months ago.

You grabbed the flashlight off their father’s desk and used the hatch in the office, dropping down into Vincent’s lair. Vincent, when he’d discovered just how much you hated the darkness that led into his workspace, had started leaving a flashlight out for you. 

When Bo got pissed at you he’d hide it. You’d have to crawl to him and beg for it back. 

You’re pretty sure he didn’t care what it was that he stole, he just wanted to exercise some control over you. Remind you of your place in this town, under him.

The flashlight was a nice thought from Vincent, but it didn’t really help you much. You used it anyway, wanting him to know you appreciated how much he cared. Because you’re pretty sure he’s the only real reason you’re alive. 

When Bo had caught you down here, standing over Owen’s dead body, he told you he didn’t know if he was going to keep you alive or not. You knew he meant it, he wasn’t teasing you or playing around, he genuinely did not know what to do with you. You were an outlier in a long list of repetitive victims. 

Vincent swept in behind him, glanced down at the ax, the injuries all over your body, and hesitantly stepped towards you. They looked at each other, a silent conversation laying in their gazes.  

Vincent took a slow step towards you and you recognized his actions for what they were. A test. 

Earlier, you’d seen Vincent try to help his brother, ease his pain and wrap up his wounds. Bo had reacted cruelly, the only thing he seemed to be capable of. 

You watched with a blank stare as Vincent kneeled down in front of you, brushing his fingers over the scraped skin of your knee. 

You jumped slightly at the burn of flesh against your wound, but otherwise didn’t react. Slowly, he stood back up, grabbing your arm with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your first meeting. He led you back to his desk, flipping over the drawing of your face and pulling out bandages. 

Some of them he had to toss to the side because they were covered in wax, others he used on you. 

Bo watched it all with a frown on his face and crossed arms. “What the hell are you doin’?”

Vincent’s head shot up and his arms tightened around you. Again, you forced yourself not to react, not to flinch away from his hold and grimace as you heard his muffled breath next to your ear. Vincent didn’t say anything, didn’t move his hands to communicate, he blocked you in like a guard dog and after a moment you heard Bo cussing and storming out. 

He mentioned something about getting the restg of your group, but nothing after that. You could only relax once you heard the basement hatch slam shut. “Thank you,” you whispered to Vincent. He grunted, but offered nothing else. 

His fingers were quick, precise in the way they cleaned and wrapped your wounds. They were also surprisingly gentle for someone who had just slammed a blade through your friend's skull. 

Vincent kept you squirreled away down there, sleeping on a cot in the corner of his large and stuffy studio. You weren’t sure how many days or weeks had passed with him idly sketching you and sculpting different wax animals for you, the lack of windows made it hard to tell, but you do know you were much better off here than in Bo’s dungeon. 

You’d learned bits of sign language from him, you were bored and he seemed eager to teach you. To finally have someone who would speak his language too. 

He was kind in his own way, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eager to get the fuck out of there. 

Bo had stormed down one day, saw you, and lost his goddamn shit. Apparently, he’d thought Vincent was only keeping you around for a bit of fun and then killing you. The fact that you were still alive, and being taken care of, nearly gave him an aneurysm. 

Again, Vincent hadn’t let Bo hurt you. He’d protected you from his brother’s wrath and forced Bo to accept that you were staying. 

Sometimes you wished you weren’t kind to him. That you had yelled, kicked, and clawed at him. Called him a freak and told him to go to hell and find his precious momma. You would be dead, sure, but you wouldn’t be here. 

Thoughts like that had disappeared a long time ago, left with the summer heat. You knew it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome, you’d been a psych student before your world was flipped on its axis. You knew what the signs were, but this wasn’t loving them to save yourself. 

This was accepting that there was no place for you in society anymore, not after what you’d done. Not after you’d actually helped Vincent sculpt his wax around Allison’s pretty face. 

You’d enjoyed it, a sick satisfaction from seeing the bitch dead, your survival a victory over her. 

When she’d been alive she had a top. This really cute white, lacy number and no matter how many times you asked, she would never let you borrow it. She had no qualms stealing your clothes and never giving them back, but god forbid you ever even looked at that top.

It hung in your closet now, yours to do with whatever you pleased. You smiled every time you thought about it. 

“Vince?” You knocked on the doorway and clicked the flashlight off as the door creaked open. The warm glow of candlelight leaked out into the dark abyss. You slipped inside, shuddering at the rush of heat that hit you. It wasn’t always hot in here, only when he was preparing a new batch of wax. 

You frowned, he only did that when there were visitors coming. Lester must’ve called ahead, told them he spotted someone on the road. You closed the door behind you walking towards his desk and dropping the plate on top. Your fingers skimmed over the sketches, catching on another one of you. 

You picked it up and smiled, it was a sketch of you curled up on the couch with Jonesy, your face pressed into her fur as you slept. You remember waking up from that nap, frowning when you heard wood creaking behind you but not seeing anything. 

What a weird little stalker. He knew he could ask to sketch you and you didn’t mind, but he always ran away like you were gonna be mad at him. You shook your head, placing it back down, and walked further into his studio. 

You found him sitting at his table, curled over something you couldn’t make out. You could see his wrist flicking, the carving tool in his hand, and figured he was making another animal for you. You already had a whole shelf full of different animals, practically your own wax zoo. 

“Hey,” you whispered, hands creeping slowly along his shoulders. He tensed slightly before he leaned into you. “Brought you lunch.” His movements paused to sign, Thank you.

You glanced down at his hair, curling around him like a dark curtain and frowned. “Vince, you got wax in your hair again.” He shrugged and continued working. You sighed, walking back towards his desk and rustling through drawers until you found the brush you’d left down here for him.

Sometimes you think he does this on purpose because he likes how you take care of him. You ran the brush through his hair a few times trying to make sure you’d gotten all the wax out. He let out a low groan, his head tilting back and thudding against your chest as you stood behind him. 

You chuckled, scratching your fingers along his scalp and he let out a long sigh, melting into you. You’d have to force him into the shower later, to wash everything out of his hair. It was astounding how stubborn both brothers were about just showering. 

You weren’t sure why they resisted so much, maybe it was something that happened between them and their parents. Either way, it was a fight to get them near the water and even then you had to bribe them with your body, luring them in like a siren just so you could wash the grime off. 

You braided Vincent’s hair away from his face and he stilled, temporarily becoming your doll while you did what you wanted to him. He was always a bit easier than his brother. He was eager to please, even more eager for your praise. For you to tell him you were proud of him. 

You leaned down, pressing a kiss against the waxed cheek of his mask. “Eat your lunch, please.” He nodded but the second you backed off he was back to carving into the block of wax before him. You sighed and glanced around his space, collecting the dishes of other half-eaten meals you’ve brought down. 

The bell rang above you and you let out a sigh or relief as you stepped into Bo’s shop. A cool breeze rustled the fabric of your top. Seems like he got the air conditioning up and running again, even in winter you could still wear a tank top and shorts and be sweating. “Bo?”

“Back here!”

You walked towards the garage, brown bag clutched tightly in your hands and poked your head in. He was bent over, head under the hood of a car and oil smeared all over his coveralls. Your eyes traveled over the car he was working on, wincing when you realized it was yours. 

You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten here. You’d seen Bo towing it in, along with Owen’s but you’d always avoided paying too much attention to it. You weren’t sure why he bothered working on it, maybe it was a taunt towards you or he was just bored. You never really knew with him. 

“Brought lunch,” you offered, walking towards his work table and jumping on top, the bag going next to your thighs. He lifted himself up, looking towards you and smiling. 

“Thanks, hun,” you hummed in response, sticking your neck out as he approached. He chuckled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

He reached for the bag, pulling out his lunch and taking too big of a bite. “‘M gonna have to go up to the house,” he mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. “Need to change before our visitors get here.”

You nodded, staying quiet as he stared at you. You’d gotten used to this look and even more used to what was about to happen after. He’d tell you to follow him and would help you off the desk, deceptively sweet as he tugged you down to the room below the garage. 

Then he would tape you up, muttering to himself about not letting you leave. You’d submit easily, letting him do what he wanted. It was easier than trying to tell him you were staying. 

But his gaze shifted back to the car and you frowned at the side of his face. He should’ve told you to move by now. Instead he leaned back against the desk, his hand skimming your own. He didn’t look at you while he spoke. 

“Want you to work on your car.”

You blanched, eyes going wide as you stared at him. That wasn’t even close to what you were expecting. You had gotten so used to sitting under that grate, listening to the screams of his victims as he hunted them down. Now, he wanted you up here, wanted you to see it. 

What was he doing?

“What?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “fucked somethin’ up, want you to fix it.” He crumpled the bag into a ball, tossing it into the trash can and turned back towards you. You didn’t see anything on his face that would give away why he was keeping you up here on the surface and it set you on edge. 

This had to be some sort of test. Maybe he was seeing if you would try and use the new victims to escape or warn them off. Or he wanted to see if you could pretend like you belonged, go along with his act and keep the victims feeling safe and compliant while he killed them off. 

What the fuck?

You were used to how things worked in Ambrose. There was a system set in place, one you had learned to follow. This went against what you’d come to know and it was setting you on edge as you watched him walk off, heading up the hill and towards his house. 

You stayed glued to the desk for a while, you weren’t sure how long, but it was enough time for Bo to have cleaned up. He popped his head inside the garage, suit on, and frowned. “What’re you doing? Move your ass.”

You jumped, leaping off the work table and rushing towards the car. He laughed at your panicked movements, staying a moment to admire your ass as you bent over the hood before you heard his boots on the gravel, heading towards the church. 

You didn’t appreciate this switch up with him, how erratic his moods and behaviors were. He made it impossible to track and read him, to fully understand why he worked the way he did. 

You were grateful that, at the very least, he had given you a distraction from trying to figure out what this test was and if you were in trouble or not. 

You inspected the car, forcing yourself to remember everything he’s taught you while you’ve lingered in his shop. 

“Oh, they're right here.”

You jumped, rolling out from underneath the car and glancing towards the doorway that connected the garage to the auto shop. Two unfamiliar voices echoed within Bo’s shop. 

“Fan belts?”

“Yeah,” a guy and a girl. You poked your head over the top of the car and saw the guy was a lot taller than you and broader. Shit, you really hoped you didn’t run into him once they figured out what was going on up here. “But he doesn’t have the right size.”

“Just pick one, Wade, I don’t want to be in here much longer.”

“Alright, just hold on Carly.” You grabbed a rag, wiping your hands off and stepping towards them. 

“You plannin’ on stealin’ that?”

They both jumped, whipping around towards where you leaned in the doorway arms crossed over your chest. “No,” the guy rushed to defend himself, his girlfriend shaking her head frantically. “We left some money on the counter, we just needed to get out of here, that’s all.”

“There you are,” you all turned towards Bo. His posture matched your own, leaned against the entrance to the shop, hands tucked in his pockets. God, he looked good. Now that you weren’t fighting for your life you could fully appreciate how handsome he looked all cleaned up. Bo glanced at you then back to the other two, “She botherin’ you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, glaring at him over their shoulders. He winked when they faced you and you figured he was putting on another show. Huffing out an irritated breath you rolled your eyes and turned back towards your car. You frowned at the oil streaked along your skin and clothes, you’d never be able to get the stains out. 

“Oh,” Carly started, shaking her head and glancing back at you again. “No, of course not, we just didn’t know that there was anyone in the shop.”

“She’s new, don’t like lettin’ her around customers, too much attitude.” You could practically see his smirk from under the car. He was probably so proud of himself, being able to tease you without you snapping back for once. 

“She’s fine, um, I left some money on the counter, but you don’t have any fifteens.” You watched as Bo’s feet moved towards the register, most likely pocketing the money. “Is that enough?”

Bo’s tone was easy going, the perfect southern gentleman as he helped a poor lost couple. “Close enough. You know, I’ve got the right size up at the house. Only a couple blocks from here…”

You forced yourself deaf, trying to block out the rest of their conversation. These people weren’t exactly assholes and they didn’t seem particularly deserving of what was about to happen. Your friends were bad people, you didn’t feel guilty about them, but there was something about this couple that had your stomach burning in anxiety. 

Maybe this was why Bo had you outside, playing mechanic with him. He wanted you to see the harsh reality of what it was they did here. you couldn’t always cover your ears and pretend it wasn’t happening. Was this what the test was? See how committed you were to him and Vincent, to Ambrose. 

You used the car as a cover, dropping the wrench beside you and covering your face as you tried to decide whether you were going to cry or throw up. It was fine, the idea of all this, when you were hidden under the grate. The straps were a reminder that it could be you up there being hunted again. 

Being face to face with the victims was entirely different. 

A hand slammed down on the roof of the car, the metal reverberating around you, “Hey!”

You screamed, jumping up and nearly hitting your head on the underbelly of the car. You rolled out, glaring at Bo while he stood smiling down at you. He kneeled down, laying a hand around your thigh and squeezing. 

“You’re gonna stay here, keep an eye out for any more of their friends, and behave. Okay?”

You nodded and he dug his nails in, “Yes, Bo.” 

“Good girl,” he stood up and walked towards the garage door. You watched him, afraid to take your eyes off his back. He turned back around, one last lingering look that had you feeling cold, “Don’t fuck up.” You flinched as the garage door slammed down behind him. 

“Help! Help me, please!” You jumped up and ran to the front of the auto shop. Carly ran face first into you, her fingernails digging painfully into your skin as she looked behind her. 

“Shit,” you grabbed her biceps and pulled her away. “What’s going on?”

She backed up, wiping her eyes and gulping as she tried to catch her breath. “That- that guy, Bo, I think he did something to my boyfriend.”

“Alright, calm down, it’s okay.” God, you were just as freaked out as her. What the fuck were you supposed to do? “Let me get the phone, we’ll call someone.”

She nodded, running to the door and locking it. She pressed her face against the glass and peered outside, keeping an eye out for him. You knew you didn’t have long before she started to get suspicious. The station had a working phone, but there was no way in hell you were actually about to call the cops on Bo. 

You paced back and forth, running your hands through your hair as you looked around, trying to find a solution. Your eyes snagged on the wrench by the car. You whipped your head over your shoulder, Carly was still stuck to the window. You ran for it, grabbing it and turning back towards her. 

You raised your hand up, wincing as she caught your eye in the reflection of the glass. “What’re-”

She crumpled to the ground with a thud, crimson pooling around her arms. 

You saw in the reflection Bo approaching you from behind, back in his coveralls. “Atta girl!” You didn’t react when he slung his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Did good, baby.” He released you, huffing out a big sigh and walking over to the girl, “Alright, grab her ankles.” His tone was no longer adoring going right back to business. 

You looked at him like he was crazy, ”Bo, what?”

You dropped the wrench to the ground and he frowned from where he was picking up her wrists. “You got a problem?”

”Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? Why am I doing this?” He dropped her arms unceremoniously and you winced at the crack they made against the cement. He stepped over her, stalking towards you and you stumbled back, heart beating faster in fear. 

His hand snapped out, grabbing you before you could make it far. You whined as he dug his nails into your cheeks, puckering your lips and gripping your jaw hard enough for it to creak. “You’re doing this ‘cause I said to. Do we have a problem?”

He was so good at making you feel small. You wonder how Vincent’s put up with it all these years. “No, Bo,” your words were muffled by his grip, but he got the message. He released you, but you didn’t go far, his arm wrapping around waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his hand coming up to push some of your hair back. “It’s alright, darlin.’ We all make mistakes, right?” His tone was condescending, his smirk even more so, but you played along like he wanted you to. Nodding and accepting when he pressed a violent kiss to your mouth, your teeth clashing together and lip splitting from the force of it. 

He backed away from you, chuckling loudly and going back to the unconscious girl on the floor. You grabbed her by the ankles like he’d told you to and helped him drag her down to the basement. He propped her head on your shoulder while he unlocked the door and you struggled under her dead weight. 

“Why is she going down here, Bo?”

Your mind went to the Polaroids covering the walls, the things he’s had you do in that chair and you felt anger burning in your gut. Not worry or fear for her like you should feel, but white hot burning rage at him for trying to pull something like this.

He looked over his shoulder at your expression and grinned, “Nothin’ like that, baby. Little bitch put up a fight and wrecked my truck, I ain’t done with her yet.” 

A good person would wince and whisper and apology to the unconscious girl, say they were sorry for the pain she was about to experience. Instead you felt sated, relieved, and completely fine with hauling her body up into the chair and taping her down. 

You held her legs down as he taped them and she started to move around. Bo tossed you some superglue and you gripped her by the jaw, clamping her lips shut and pouring glue over the seam of her mouth. She whimpered and you ignored her, moving mechanically, distancing yourself from the fact that she was a real moving person. In her place was a wax statue, full of imperfections that you needed the glue to fix. 

All three of you looked up through the grate at the sound of the boots stomping in the garage above you. Bo shared a look with you and nodded towards the door. You let the girl go, slipping out of the basement and closing the door behind you. You came up through the entrance behind the register, glancing outside to see a man in front of the garage. 

You let out a breath of relief, closing the door to the shop as you stepped into the garage, he hadn’t got a chance to see the pool of blood. “Can I help you?”

He turned around, a particularly bitchy look on his face. “Looking for my sister, Carly, seen her?”

There was a loud yelp and you frowned. You walked towards the work table, reaching for the stereo and turning the volume to Bo’s music on. You covered the grate from his view as Deftones blasted through the small garage. 

“Sorry, it’s my dog, she hates new people.”

He gave you an awkward smile and nodded. “Yeah, might’ve seen her. Pretty girl, blonde hair?”

He nodded his head, giving you an appraising look. You weren’t sure if he didn’t believe you or was checking you out. You really preferred that he didn’t believe you, you weren’t prepared to deal with Bo if he thought someone was moving in on you. ”My boss, Bo, took her and her boyfriend up to his house a few minutes ago. They were lookin’ for a fan belt.”

“His house?”

You shrugged, “He keeps extra shipments there. Wasn’t too long ago, you want me to take you?” 

He sucked on his teeth, shaking his head and backing away. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

You panicked, fists clenching as you watched him retreat. “It's really no problem.”

“I said I’m good,” he snapped. 

You could see Bo creeping up behind him, the same wrench you used on the guy’s sister in his hand. If he turned around he would see Bo. Carly was easy to take out, she was small, trusting. This guy looked built and like he’d been in a few too many fights. “Wait!” You shouted, too scared to come up with a good distraction. 

He glared at you and opened his mouth to say something just as Bo struck. The wrench came down on the guys head with a disturbing crack, but he didn’t fall like he should have. He stumbled forward and whirled around on Bo, his fist catching him in the jaw and tackling him to the ground. 

You could clearly see blood pouring down the back of his head, but he remained unphased as he  pounded into Bo. “Shit,” you cursed, darting to the side to pick up another weapon but you failed to notice how the man had stopped beating Bo. He must’ve seen you moving somehow because in a split second something was slamming into your side and the air was leaving you as you were slammed into the cement. 

You groaned, feeling like your lungs had collapsed and curled up in an attempt to protect yourself as he directed his attacks towards you. “Nick!” A shrill voice screamed from the grate. “Nick!” He leapt off of you, heading back towards Bo and ripping the keys off his belt as he made a run for it. 

Your vision was red, blood pouring down from a cut on your forehead. You took in a painful breath, your lungs wheezing, your ribs had apparently taken the majority of his punches. With your brain pounding against your eyes you rolled onto your knees and crawled towards Bo. 

He wasn’t as badly injured as you had thought he would be, must’ve gotten in a few hits of his own. “Bo,” you grabbed his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Bo!” You tried again, shouting this time and slamming his head down on the cement. 

He groaned and you let yourself fall back, head lolling on your shoulders as you tried to get your vision to stop swimming. “Shit, he got me.” Bo sat up, wiping the blood from under his nose, “Get home.” He ordered, tone not leaving any room for an argument. You nodded as he stormed off, but instead of going home like he told you to, you laid down on the cold cement and groaned. 

Should lungs hurt?

You eventually managed your way to the house, once you’d got breath back, your injuries weren’t as bad as you’d thought they’d been. You stumbled into the doorway, glancing at a trail of blood leading into the office and trudging your way to the fridge. You grabbed a beer and threw yourself down on the couch. 

It didn’t take long to hear footsteps creeping towards you. Your heart clenched when you saw how hesitant Vincent was to get near you. You loved Bo, but he could be a real fucking dick to his brother. You leaned your head against the cushion, rolling it to the right and smiling at Vincent. 

It seemed to be enough for him to feel comfortable approaching you. He kneeled on the floor beside you and fussed over your scrapes. “I’m fine, really,” you reached up, taking his hand in yours and trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I think they got Bo pretty bad, though.”

He tugged his hands from yours, taking off his gloves and signing. How bad

”One of the guys, he’s pretty strong, busted his sister out from the basement after attacking me and Bo. Actually managed to knock Bo out for a minute.”

Stay here

“Wait-” you reached out, trying to grab the back of his sweater but he was already making a run for the front door. It slammed closed behind him, his truck starting up a minute later. You sighed and fell back against the couch, letting your eyes shut as you tried to relax. 

You hadn’t realized just how relaxed you’d gotten until you heard the door slam. You jumped up, glancing out the living room window and realizing how dark it’d gotten. You moved off the couch, placing your beer on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. 

Bo was leaning on the counter, already a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was completely soaked in blood, his nose leaking and a bandage wrapped around his arm. “Holy shit, Bo, what happened?” 

You ran forward, hands instinctively going to the arrow buried in his arm. “Back off!” He snapped. You frowned and stepped back from him, trying not to upset him any further. You heard the rumble of a truck on the driveway and you glanced through the window. 

Two bodies lay in the bed of Vincent’s yellow truck, a blonde girl and some guy you hadn’t seen before. Vincent jumped out, Jonesy following behind him, and made his way towards the door. You opened it before he could, grabbing him by the cardigan and making sure he wasn’t hurt like Bo. 

He took your hands in his and shook his head, gently moving you back. “What have I told you about leaving without me?” Bo shouted. “You wait for me!”

Vincent nodded, not bothering to respond to Bo. There was a moment of tense silence before Bo offered a half-hearted smile to Vincent, “We’re almost done, Vinnie, momma would be proud of ya.”

It was the closest to an apology Vincent would ever get, you all knew it. Bo can’t apologize, his parents had permantly fucked with his psyche, and it started with his dad doing a risky surgery to seperate his boys. Vincent’s face would permanently be ruined but you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Bo had gotten the fucked mental end of the separation. 

“How many are left?” You asked, reluctantly releasing Vincent’s hands. 

“The girl and her brother,” Bo paced, taking a swig of his whiskey. He hissed and clutched his hurt arm. “Alright, help me out with this.”

You had to hold yourself back from snapping at him. Oh, can I help now? Dick. You grabbed hold of what was left of the arrow and yanked as hard as you could, Bo clenched his teeth and let out a loud pained groan. You winced at the amount of blood that started coming out, Vincent moved you to the side, already having a bandage ready and tying it tight around Bo’s arm. 

“Where do you think they headed?”

Bo grunted, speaking through clenched teeth, “House of Wax.”

You nodded and stepped back from him once it seemed like Vincent wouldn’t need your help. “I’ll go with you both.”

”No,” Bo shouted and Vincent shook his head wildly. 

“Don’t be a dumbass, you need my help. They’ve already kicked your ass, I’ll stay out of sight, promise. I just want to be there in case they get the upper hand.” Bo looked unsure and Vincent was still shaking his head. You placed a comforting hand on both of their arms and begged, “Please. Let me help.”

Bo shook his head and your stomach dropped, worried he would say no. Finally he let out a long sigh, “Stick with Vincent.”

You nodded, feeling Vincent’s hand grab onto yours as he led you outside. Bo grunted and slowly followed after you both, his left arm stiff beside him. 

You followed Vincent into the bowels of the House of Wax, he moved slowly, keeping one hand behind him to make sure you didn’t bolt. You weren’t planning on it, but they didn’t seem to completely trust you for some reason. 

You heard footsteps ahead, quck and frantic, rushing through his workshop. Vincent pulled out his bone handle daggers and ran down the rest of the steps. You stayed on the stairwell, keeping your head peaked around the corner. 

The brother was in there, rushing through the workshop and knocking shit over without a care in the world. He hadn’t noticed Vincent yet, too busy looking for something. You weren’t sure what he wanted, or what the plan was until you saw him grab a pile of sheets, getting ready to throw them in the fire that kept the wax warm. 

Shit, he was going to set the whole damn place on fire. 

Even if you did manage to kill these two, it wouldn’t matter, the police would come, they’d see the bodies. Bo and Vincent would be locked up and you…

Well, you didn’t really know what would happen to you. 

You could always plead insanity, show the jury the scars from your bonds and they’d think you were just a victim forced to do the unimaginable. 

You considered it for a moment, letting him get away with this, thought about the freedom that might await you. There was an empty feeling associated with that image, you’d miss Bo and Vince, miss the fucked up life you were living here. 

There weren’t any worries here, just make sure the victims didn’t make it past the woods and you were fine. No taxes, or wondering how you’d afford to keep living in your overpriced apartment, no fucked politics. You were free to be whoever you wanted, do whatever you wanted. 

You grabbed a lead pipe off the stairs and threw it at the wall. It provided enough of a distraction for him to drop the sheets, not yet making it to the fire, and for Vince to grab him. You watched long enough to see the knife go through his throat and then ran back up the stairs towards Bo. 

You heard screaming before you made it through the door, Carly shouting something at him. What worried you was that you didn’t hear him respond. You turned the corner, feet sticking to the wax as you gripped onto the doorway for balance. 

She was standing over him, baseball bat in her hands poised to bring it back down over his face. You could already see blood leaking down his face from where she’d hit him before. Without thinking you charged at her, wrapping your arms around her middle and taking her down to the floor. 

She let out a surprised yelp but you didn’t let her get much else out before you were wailing on her. You don’t know what happened after you grabbed her. You only remember punching her the first time, remember your knuckles splitting and your blood mingling with hers as she wrestled with you. 

All you could see was Bo laying on the floor, not moving, as this bitch stood over him with a bat. You were blinded by rage, a hot fury burning in your gut and keeping you moving as you pounded your fists into her. You felt satisfied by the sound of her bones crunching under you. 

She screamed at you, words you couldn’t hear as your blood rushed through your ears, and threw her hand up into your chin. You groaned, jaw whipping to the side. She pounced on you, digging her fingers into your throat until you couldn’t breathe and flipping you both over. 

You dragged your nails down her face, the skin digging under your nails like warm wax. You dragged your palms down until you could feel her throat, the movement it made as she took in a deep breath. You felt it bob up and down under your touch and you squeezed. She let out a strangled yelp and you could feel yourself slipping. You were becoming lost in a place of animalistic panic. 

You were almost dead, the man you loved was most likely lying dead next to you as you fought for your own life. Your vision was cloudy until it went completely black and then you felt arms wrapping around your chest and pulling you back. You kicked and screamed, still in fighting for your life until you recognized the voice in your ear. 

“Alright, it’s alright, it’s over.” You slumped back at the sound of Bo’s whispers. You ignored the feeling of his blood leaking into your shirt as he sat down with you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing until it hurt. 

You didn’t mind the pain, though, embracing it because it meant you were both alive. Both of you were okay. You reached back, wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into him. Carly lay dead a few feet in front of you, her face mangled and you looked down to see her blood soaking into your clothes. 

You had your own wounds from where she’d fought back, bleeding lacerations that you’d fix later. For now you sat with Bo, watching as Vincent stomped towards you both. In a minute you’d get up, help them clean up the house and the bodies. Then you’d all go home, you’d make dinner, pass out on the couch and wake up in one of their beds. Probably Bo, if his panicked grip was anything to go by. 

Life would go on as it always had, except you’d never have to see that chair again. You’d never be looking up through a grate as blood pooled on the garage floor. You’d go with Bo when he went to the city for supplies, you’d be able to pick out clothes that weren’t plucked from the hands of the dead. 

It wasn’t right. 

You weren’t a good person. 

You didn’t deserve salvation or heaven after all of this. 

But you’d found it and you were perfectly happy. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher fandom #house of wax 2005 #House of wax x reader #sinclair brothers x reader #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x you #Slashers

[blueparadis]

a concept:

tattoo artist kaeya having a thing for u, his regular client rosaria's cute little roommate, who is the exact opposite of her. he feels bad for touching himself to the thoughts of u but he can't help himself bc he likes u so much

❝ INKED SECRETS ❞ + KAEYA ALBERICH !

+. CWs —» tattoo artist au + modern au, f!reader, fluff, light angst with comfort, some canon elements, love at first sight, mention of cigarette smoking, bad relationships, hookups, stranger to lovers, smut ( fantasies, m-mastarbation ) ; word count — 2k.

+. NOTES —» thanks to my beloved yoru ( @anantaru) for helping me and beta reading this otherwise i would've opened the gates of kaeya-brainrot; also, thank you for being patient. This ask was almost a month old and I know this was supposed to be short but the thing is kaeya is the one who had me invested in genshin impact. However, surprisingly I've never thought of writing about him so thank you for your muse. I loved writing this so fucking much. Thank you. Tattoo artist kaeya shall live forever in my mind. If you wanna check more of my writings, click here.

Kaeya Alberich. The name of the mystery man who would always be the talk of the topic for Rosaria. He was more familiar to you than your roommate ever was. You two shared a room yet you could never read Rosaria but she was thorough with you; maybe that is why you two clicked. Every one of your friends considered it a mystery how a sunflower like you would ever survive in the company of a moon. Everyone including Kaeya. He had his own proportion of confusion every time Rosaria talked about you. 

Kaeya knew how you looked, talked, and liked to eat ice cream in winter. Not only that, your favorite colors, bits and pieces of your small dreams were known to him. And all because Rosaria wouldn’t stop with the constant blabbering about you whenever he directly hung out with her, emphasizing the fact that you were nothing but an angel in disguise. Kaeya had to endure all of it, every bit of you that Rosaria seemed to find alluring. At moments like this, one could say that they exchanged personas since Kaeya was a guy of smiles and chitter-chatter while Rosaria was quite the opposite.

True, the friendship between Kaeya and Rosaria was another talk of Mondstadt’s inhabitants, but they both did not seem to react as people expected, as people thought they should. You would, barely, call them lovers. While Kaeya enjoyed different takes of his customers about Rosaria, she, on the other hand, brushed those petty rumors off, with just a glance keeping her stoic persona. 

But, among all these happenings, Rosaria had the front-row seat of the chaos that was about to unfold. She had her beauty salon just above Kaeya’s tattoo parlor. They have been working together for at least five years. Rosaria had her shop on rental and the five-storied complex was owned by none other than Kaeya Alberich himself. 

Anyone who wanted to go to her parlor had to cross Kaeya’s floor; hence, no one slipped past the grip of his galactic eyes. He knew the regulars of her shop and had an immense influence on them. He believed it was his charms while Rosaria begged to differ.

But she was just being professional, clearing non-financial tabs that she owed to him, for bringing the immense influx of customers to her salon. Sometimes, it worked both ways, but whenever they fought, the elders of the locality had more spice to flavor the rumors that had just started sedimenting.

January, the prime of winter, of snow and the freezing cold, Kaeya laid his first glance at you. Warm and alluring: you were every bit of beauty that Rosaria spoke of, in fact, now that he had finally seen you in person, he thinks Rosaria fell short of speaking of your angelic aura. 

“Hello, I have a parcel for Rosaria, could you please deliver it to her? I would have done it myself if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”, you kept the package on my desk, “Thank you very much, Mister . . .”, you looked at his batch that reads Kaeya Alberich, “. . . Thank you so much, Mister Kaeya Alberich.” And before Kaeya could say anything back, you fled out of his sight like a bird.

He watched you get into a cab holding the package in his hand, barely registering what you asked him to do. His mind had drifted far off to all those times when Rosaria was talking about you. He checked his watch and smiled to himself. Oops! Rosaria’s smoke break was ruined since he joined in with the package you had left for her, with many questions.

For a tattoo artist, Kaeya seemed the least bit invested in its antics, yet he had a steady influx of customers, mostly because he is very professional and dedicated to his livelihood. He pays special attention to his regular customers, sadly, you weren’t one of them, not yet.

Still, he would stand and smoke at the corner of the entrance so that he could watch you go like the wind to meet your roommate with a package in hand. He would notice the color of your dress, the matching nails, shoes, and every little detail thinking how flawlessly sexy you looked. 

But he abruptly stopped the second he had bruised his fingers with the cigarette burn. Fortunately, it was his left hand but with his line of work, he needed both. 

Today, during the lunch break when Rosaria told him that y/n wanted to have a tattoo, his blood rushed to his cheeks and ears. He did not think you’d be interested in tattoos or piercings. He definitely did not see the next blow coming. “Yep. sure.”, he supplied, coughing back the lump in his throat. Of all the parlors you could choose you had to choose his. What in the lord’s fuck was going on?

The day came faster, faster than he had anticipated. Needless to say, it did not go like he thought it would. It was safe to say he was more nervous than you were. “Are you sure about this?”, “Ya’know it’s gonna hurt, right?”, “Should I use some anesthetic on the area?” His questions wouldn’t stop and you were trying your best to stay as patient as possible It is true, part of him was nervous but another wanted to spend and enjoy some time with you.

“And done!”, Kaeya playfully mused as he wiped over the work of ink, careful enough not to accidentally graze his fingers over your inner thigh but of course, he did want to.“y/n” he spoke, his tone low but clear enough for you to hear, “so, how many tattoos do you have now?” Kaeya shifted in his chair as he intently watched you normalize your heightened breathing

“Didn’t you keep count?”, 

“nine”, he said, letting out a breathless laugh. “which means you dumped your ninth partner.” and he was not wrong. Of all the regular customers he had, you were his favorite because you had an amusing story to tell whenever you had visited his parlor. He would listen to you the moment he was finished with his handiwork.

But this one in particular, was quite a different story. You never told nor was he allowed to ask about the guy you dumped, ever. Part of him wanted to console you, and tell you that good things take time but another part of him was too afraid to lose you, realizing it was unprofessional of him to offer any form of painkiller against a situation like that. Because on any other occasion, his usual customers weren’t as chatty as you were. 

He never thought of a case where it might be the opposite. With that, he thought that you, of all people, being dumped by someone was utterly ridiculous, because who wouldn't want to date someone like you? He knows he would, after all, and if he could, he would make sure the ninth tattoo is to be the last tattoo on your body.

“What about you?”, you asked, swinging your legs in the air while sitting on the bed. “For a tattoo artist, you are awfully blank.” 

“It’s somewhere. . .”, he started, “wait I’ll rather show you . . .”. and when you, in a sliding second, unexpectedly flashed him, his hands immediately found their way crawling at the hem of his turtle-neck.

“Wait. wait. Wait. stop. Just stop.” kaeya panicked as you partly opened your eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest while your eyebrows jumped and stayed intact for seconds. Pin-drop silence and then both of you simultaneously laughed. Some might think it’s corny, and maybe you did as well but it doesn’t matter, what matters is that you were smiling right now. 

That’s good. That’s really good. 

Kaeya checked his watch as you left his place to run upstairs, checking to see if Rosaria was done with her chores; after all, she was almost approaching the closing hour of her shop so she should’ve been done by the time you had arrived at her place. Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes before you and Rosaria would come out of the elevator to go home;  maybe he could if he’d finally stop thinking about it in such an unhealthy calculative manner.

Yet, well, there was just one problem. His ears felt hot, his mind was restless and he couldn't focus on a single task. Generally, it took ten minutes to close his shop and he does it every day, all alone so if not his mind, his muscle memory should be functioning properly. But all he desired to do was to touch himself and relieve himself from the agony of months boiling in his core.

June, the prime time of summer and ice cream. Kaeya slides his right arm under his vest while grazing his lower belly, eagerly thinking of the last time, but eventually, his arm ends up slipping into his pants, his fingers clamping around his length, and finally, a soft groan escapes from his mouth. The tip of his tongue kisses the corner of his lips as he takes out his cock which was coated with warm white fluid, at the tip pre-cum.

For a moment, he is surprised, and then he suddenly is not. There is a crescent formed along his lips as he taps the tip of his cock, smearing the reddened end with its pre. “Oh fuck. This feels so much better.”, he groans, mumbling to himself, thinking why he didn’t do this way sooner.

He palms his member, a little harder, this time trying to imagine how it would feel to be sheathed by your gummy walls. He started to pump his cock as his pants slipped, now clustered at the bottom of the chair while his legs were trying to give as much space as possible by spreading them further apart.

With half-lidded eyes, he checks if you had locked the door before leaving or not. You did not and the thought of you walking onto him turned him so bad that he thought he might cum right away.

The moment he closes his eyes he could see you, your calloused fingers around his cock and now he is pumping his cock rashly, the hem of his vest being buried in between his teeth, muffled moans escaping his mouth as the squelching noises had gotten louder and louder.

His other hand gradually made its way towards his nipples, pinching and circling around them thinking of your lips instead. “Oh fuck.”, he hisses as his toes curl, his hips bucked up with a force as he thinks of how euphoric it would be to have your soft lips wrapped around his cock, to have your puffy lips on his, to have your boobs tightly pressed against his bare chest, pronounced nipples grazing against each other while Kaeya’s cock is hitting your sweet spot with precision, blessing his ears with the prettiest desperate moans from you.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his hands move up and down his swollen cock, hitting his girth with calculated thrusts. He paces up as he feels his orgasm approaching, huffing and panting, not caring how vocal he has become until the coil at the core of his flat belly snaps, making him dizzy, his hand movements sloppy, and his inner thighs gradually closing, relishing in the high he had just experienced.

Kaeya’s chest rises up and down frantically as he finally opens his eyes, watching the spurs of milky white fluid all over the floor and his study desk. A heavy sigh leaves his body as his breathing normalizes. “Fuck . . .”, he mumbles throwing back his head before closing his eyes and thinking of you, again. He takes a few deep breaths to relax before cleaning the mess.

Yet, when he suddenly heard the footsteps, his heart sank. He regrets touching himself while thinking of you, he regrets not saving himself for you, he regrets chasing love so fast, so insanely that he almost lost his hope for finding the one. 

“Hey Kae-ya, you done?”, you asked, opening the door, “Rosa is gonna be late today. So, I’ll stay and help her. I’m going out to buy some food, you wanna come with me?” You let your exhausted body lean against the door frame while Kaeya remained silent. 

It just made him crazy how blatantly you ignored him, his magnetic affection for you, and the truth was, he cannot even blame you for that. He has always enjoyed this feeling, to like you in secrecy. The more you are unaware of his emotions, the greater chance he has to be around you. Kaeya does not ask for much, just a few more days till he musters up enough courage to finally ask you out.

—

@tokyometronetwork

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #gi smut #kaeya smut #kaeya alberich smut #kaeya x you #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya alberich #gi x you #gi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact fiction #genshin fanfic #genshin fic #kaeya alberich genshin #kaeyagenshinimpact #rosaria #rosaria x y/n #rosaria x reader #rosaria x you #rosaria x kaeya #genshin impact oneshots #genshin oneshots #smut oneshot #smut #smut fics

[god-complex-12]

Saudade

— Paring; Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley x male reader. Fandom; Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Saudade: (n.) a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia; longing to be near something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”.

Quote; “Fuck you, Simon.”

Disclaimer; middle of a war, angst, sad, guns, violence, descriptions of war, childhood friends, childhood trauma, kind of PTSD, blood, fighting, fear, stabbing, no use of Y/N, conflict, arguing.

Word Count: 0.9k.

Masterlist

A/N: I read the very first lines of this @charliemwrites fic and this came to my mind. I haven’t read the rest yet, but inspo from them. Also, please send in requests. I’m desperate for ideas.

The sound of gunfire wasn’t foreign. Not to Simon. However, even with ear coverage, the headache couldn’t be stopped. The adrenaline of the bloodshed kept his mind off the pain. It was moments like these where his mind was empty and only set on surviving and carrying out the mission.

Simon’s back hit the wall as he took a brief breather before he busted into the room, firing at the first man he saw in a Shadow uniform. His gun was aimed at the wrong person at the wrong time because he was quickly met with a hit, sending him to the ground with a groan of pain. He tried to shoot whoever the perpetrator was, but the enemy pried the rifle from his hands and pinned him to the ground, holding their own gun to his head. All Simon could see were the soldier’s eyes, but even those let off more emotion than would be ideal in a situation like this. Simon struggled, but his struggle did him no good against the body weight of the enemy atop him.

The soldier didn’t shoot, though. That’s why Simon was trying to act fast, as he managed to get his hand out from under the enemy, and he grabbed the knife on his leg and lodged it into the man’s thigh. Instinctively, the stranger yelled out and slammed the handgun down against the lieutenant's head. The mask cracked and Simon cringed in pain.

“You fuckin’ piece of shit!” The soldier yelled, and he angrily ripped the mask from the other man’s face. He tore everything off Simon's face, destroying his comm and headset, ripping the balaclava, and using the broken mask to stab him in the shoulder. Simon fought him, tossing his head around to stop him and even grabbing him by the face to make him let go. The soldier pointed the gun back at Simon’s bare forehead. He held Simon’s wrist tightly, stabbing the other piece of his mask into his palm, making Simon let go.

As the enemy’s rage calmed and his breathing steadied, his hand wavered. His eyes widened ever so slightly before sharpening again. “What are you doing here?” His tone was harsh, as if he were talking to a private. Simon took it as a demand in order to win rather than the man’s curiosity.

“You’re a dumb fuck if you think you can get information out of me in the middle of a warzone,” Simon spat out through gritted teeth.

The soldier paused before they lowered their balaclava. Simon’s eyes widened in fear as all the unwanted memories rushed back to him like a tsunami. His breath became labored. Everything he wanted to forget was on top of him, pointing a pistol at his head. He started thrashing more. “Get off of me! Get the hell off of me, you dickhead!” He shouted angrily.

“Stop it,” he says calmly. However, all gentleness was gone when Simon continued to fight. “I said stop!” He punched Simon with his full strength. He grabbed Simon’s face harshly, making him look at him. “You can run. Forget everything bad. But I’ll be damned if you try to forget me, you cowardly bitch. I fought for you. I’m the only reason you lived through your pathetic childhood and you abandoned me. You left me with everything I fought with you through. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you! I could’ve had a happy childhood, but I was too busy fending for your bitch ass.” All that pent-up aggression was being spewed through a tight jaw and angry eyes.

Simon was desperate to get away. He looked like a little boy again, trying to get away from whatever his father brought home. “I had to! You don’t get it!” Another hit from the gun shut Simon up. The lieutenant knew exactly what he had done was wrong, and he knew that the man in front of him had every right to be angry. Even though Simon was the reason his youth was corrupted, they never split. He was like a brother to him. One who helped him through all, yet Simon left him with everything the other protected him from.

The soldier got back to his feet and pulled his mask back up. He turned around and was ready to walk away from his opponent, unable to pull the trigger, even though he was overwhelmed with a burning hatred for Simon. Angry at him for putting him through his fucked-up family even though they weren’t related. He still had the urge to protect him.

“Fuck you, Simon. I hope it all comes back to you at night. I hope it keeps you up.” He grumbled as he limped out of the room, leaving Simon there on the floor.

#god complex 12 #x reader #x y/n #x you #x male reader #cod #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #ghost x you #ghost x male reader #ghost fanfiction #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #simon riley x male reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley #call of duty x reader

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People (Platonic)

Summary: While in the Wasteland, running on nothing but fumes and even less hope, you meet someone. Someone who might just be the one thing you need in a place like this: a friend.

Note: This is shorter than my usual stuff (both in terms of words, probably, and also just in terms of content - more so a scene than anything else; maybe a series of short scenes showing Lucy's arc if you guys want and how her friendship with Y/N develops?) Let me know in an ask!

You were a survivor. You had been since the moment you were born, but you weren't sure how much longer that was going to last.

Your day hadn't started off good, you see. You were running out of water and had passed out earlier due to some kind of infection - no idea what it was or who/what it was from, you had come across a lot of beings and things in your travels - and some guy had thought you were dead and even pissed on you just in case. Was not refreshing, or nice.

You had fought him off, tackling him to the floor and punching him quite a few times. You didn't kill him, however. You just left him be after that.

An odd fellow with a briefcase who promise you everything you could ever want passed you by. He gave you something that gave you a boost. You had no caps, so the only piece of fluid you had left on you - your water container - was given to him in exchange for this item.

So, now you were even more screwed then before.

The man even seemed to somewhat pity you, but he still left.

You find an abandoned bus. It's been picked, recently or otherwise doesn't really matter, picked clean is picked clean. Or, well, as clean as you can get within the apocalypse.

"Hello?" a voice says. You spin around, reaching for a weapon you don't have as you lost it in the scuffle before, and so instead duck down - hitting your head on one of the seats.

You hear the person outside cringe.

"Sorry," she says, earnestly to your shock, "that sounded like it hurt."

"...It did," you find yourself saying in reply, but still keep your head done.

"Sorry," she says, again, "it's ok," she assures you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You peak your head up. The first thing you notice, is how clean she looks. She gives you a bright smile.

"Hi," she says, enthusiastically.

You just blink at her.

"It's ok," she assures again, "my weapon is away. I just - I just wanna talk. I'm a bit lost out here give, you know, everything is mainly just sand."

You guess that's fair. So, against your better judgment, you make your way to the stairs at the bus, and sit down. The woman sits down, letting out a sigh, glad to be able to rest for a moment.

She stretches. You adjust your neck. You must've slept funny.

"I'm Lucy," she says, holding out a hand to you.

"Y/N," you say, shaking her hand. Feels weird, being this open with someone.

"Y/N," she says, "that's a nice name. I never knew someone called Y/N before."

You're about to ask her why, when you see what she's wearing.

You whistle, or as best you can with a dry throat, it's croaky but the idea comes through, "you one of them Vault Dwellers?"

"I am," she says, and you're unsure if it's a proud statement or not, "but, I do also recognise my privilege for being one."

You hum, "how you finding up here?"

"Hot," she says, "we have air conditioning in the vaults. So, it's weird not being able to just turn down the temperature."

You chuckle. She smiles.

"Thank you for not trying to kill me."

You gesture to yourself, "don't exactly have anything to do that with, you know? Besides, you're not a bad person. I've met some bad people, you ain't one of them."

"Thank you. I knew there were good people out here."

You shrug, "I don't think I'm exactly 'good', but I've known worse."

"Well, I'm glad I've run into you. You're alot nicer than the previous man I met."

"Yeah, there'll be people like that..." you pause, then ask the question on your mind, "what brings you top side, Lucy?"

"Oh," there's a hint of hope, mixed with sadness in her eyes while she answers, "I'm looking for my dad. Some horrible woman called Moldaver took him. She steals dads."

You may internally find that last part funny, but you find yourself saying 'I'm sorry' to her about her plight. She thanks you once again.

"You're not crazy like that other man."

She's blunt, you'll give her that.

"I can be," you don't quite know why you're insulted by it.

She cocks her head to the side, "I'm good at reading people," you aren’t sure on that one, but you don't say anything, "and you're not like that previous man."

"What'd he do?"

"Drank most of my water. You ever met anyone like that?"

"Guy pissed on me this morning. Another stole my canteen."

"Oh..." Lucy says. You nod, expecting this to be the end of your conversion, but then she reaches behind herself for something. Instinct makes you freeze, but she just gives you a reassuring smile once again, and holds something out to you.

Her own canteen.

You look at her, doubt, confusion, and thanks all in your eyes at once.

"Take it," she insists, shaking it a little to tell you that there is still water inside it, "I mean it."

"But, that other man --"

"He's greedy. You aren't. And, judging by your lips, rough voice, inability to whistle, and slight grovel to your voice, and the way you hold yourself," perceptive too, "you need this more than I do."

"You sure?" she nods. Hesitantly, looking from her to the canteen as you reach out - her leaning forward to help you with your lack of energy due to dehydration and all - you grab it. It's not harsh, you don't rip it out of her grasp. Your actions are slow, deliberate.

You open it, and lift it up to your mouth, letting a few water droplets hit it.

You close it and give it back to her. But she pushes it to you again. This goes on a few more times.

"I meant what I said," she says, "take it."

You look around at the desert, "next water well won't be for a while."

She shrugs, "there's a town nearby. There should be some there. But, either way, you need this a lot more than I do."

You drink the rest of it. And, you feel ok. Not great, but better.

You cough a bit. Both due to whatever illness you have, and just from the water and how fast you drank it.

"That's a bad cough," she notes, taking the canteen back.

"Ah, it's nothing," you say, waving her off. Had worse infections.

You stand up, and she holds her hands out in case you fall. You put a hand up, telling her you're ok.

"Well," you say, "thank you for that, and the talk. Good people are few and far between. Best of luck --"

"Hey, wait!" she calls out as you start to walk away, "wait, please. Maybe - maybe you can help me."

"I ain't exactly much help given the lack of weapons, strength, and my illness."

She frowns, "well, once we find my dad, we can go back to my vault, we have doctors there who can help you and give you a good meal!"

She's preppy, but soon that softens in her eyes, "please...I can stop people from...urinating on you."

You snort at her disgust of the language. She has a lot to learn. Social ettiquite may exist in some places in the wasteland, but not everywhere.

"Well, when you put it like that..." you say, before smiling. She beams at you.

"Okey Dokey!" she exclaims.

"Okey Dokey!" you find yourself saying in kind, not mocking for once - you and your mouth had gotten you into trouble before, it was nice to not have some agenda with it this time. To let your guard down.

"Have you ever been to Filly before?" she asks you as you walk side by side. Though, she slows up a bit as you try and both get your strength back and keep your remaining bit.

"Once or twice when passing through," you say.

"Alrighty then," she says, glad to not be going in completely blind, "'this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'" she says to you, clearly quoting something, based on her voice. You look at her confused.

"I'll show you the film when we're back at the vault," she says, before you continue on your way.

It's good to meet someone who didn't want to kill you on sight or extort you or something.

It was nice to not be alone anymore.

Lucy feels the same way. She has a sort of guide now. A friend.

An actual friend from the outside.

She's glad.

And, little did she know how right she'd be. It would be a friendship that would stand the test of time and everything in between.

Lucy had just met her best friend.

You had met yours.

Even if you both didn't know just how dark and dangerous the road ahead would get...

#fallout #lucy fallout #lucy maclean #Lucy Maclean imagine #lucy maclean fallout #lucy maclean x reader

[viandclintbarton-supremacy]

Baby Spider Part 2 (Marvel WOSO AU)

You heard a beeping sound. You felt so tired and sore, You were lying down and felt the fabric that layed on you. You were in a bed and by the sounds of the beeping, You were in a hospital, You then started to feel fear, if your in a public hospital, your secret will get out. You groggily opened you eyes only to be met with confusion. you were in your room.

You felt slightly dizzy and a really, really bad headache, You groaned and raised your hand to your head "Oh thank god, Your awake" you heard your mother's voice, You opened your eyes and saw Lucy. you immediately wanted to latch onto Lucy and have her hold you but you felt nauseous when you tried to move to her. You felt her hand cup your cheek, You looked at her, bags around her eyes. Her hair was down which was rare. You felt your heart ache, you were scared on what she was going through and what she felt. "Don't move much or sudden movements. You have a concussion darling" that explains the headache and nausea

You looked at her "I-im sorry mum, i- i" you tried to finish your sentence but just broke down unable to fight back the fear and sadness in your stomach. You felt lucys strong arms wrapped around your head and pull you towards her chest and rest her chin in top of your head. "Sshh it's ok babe, everything is ok" She said softly as she patted you back. You fought through the tears "I'm so-rry i didn't t-tell you" You took a deep breath controlling your breath "I wanted to but I knew you would s-stop me a-a" you broke and just cried as your mother held you. "Just breathe babyboy/Girl." She started to hum a melody, her soft voice and her heartbeat comforted you. It felt like you were there forever.

You finally broke apart, your mother layed you back "I'm so proud of you" You looked wide eyed at your mother "I mean kid, your La araña. You saved countless life's and more. You think I would hate you for that" you looked down, wiping away the tears that were running down your cheeks "You brilliant, stupid boy" you mother said making you smile whilst you looked down and fidgeting if your fingers. "Sorry for hitting you" You said sheepishly. You felt your mother eye roll. "I mean i did start it, so my fault" You looked at her, Lucy now had her hand on your arm "You do pack a punch lad. But i'm not the one with the broken nose" You grimaced and started to fear about your mother Alexia. You felt her grip softly tighten, You looked at Lucy. "She is ok, Its just" She sighed

"Your mother, she is taken this very hard." You looked down at the words " All of this is a lot for her. Seeing you in that state shook us both but we also caused it. Its still" She stopped for a moment before sighing, She started to hold your hand "Its still hard for both of us and you being La araña. You are my Son/Daughter, i know you can handle yourself and you have shown the world what La araña can do. But this effected her a lot." You sighed deeply, wiping your tears "I need to talk to her" Lucy smiled sadly. You will you just need to take it slow. You...Abilities have heal your body fast but still not 100%. Which reminds me after this is all said and done. We are gonna have a long talk about your vigilante shenanigans" Lucy said as she patted your hands as she walked away "Oh and Alexia will also get a talking to" Your eyes widen "She called through your suit's ear piece. Don't worry she is ok" You felt slightly better knowing she would not worry about you. You notice your mother was gone and you presumed to go get Alexia.

You sat there twiddling your thumbs before you leaned back and started to think about how that convo would go. You heard a creak. You looked at the door and saw Alexia standing there. with a bandage on her nose, slight bruises and a cut lip healing. She slowly walked towards with a sad look. You looked down, She was so quiet and you hated it, You could feel the dissapointed eyes burning into your soul. She sat down next to you, You also heard Lucy sit on the other side of the bed. You stayed there as Lucy touched your arm to reassure you. It felt like forever you stayed like that, Anxiety building, tears threating to come out. Untill you felt Alexia lightly touch the bottom of your chin and made you look at her. Her eyes were starring into yours. "You could of been killed doing this....this charade Y/N. Her voice was stern "We could of....." She started to breathe and control her anger. "You have your whole life ahead of you! why would you throw that away. What fool voluntary pu-"

"You"

She grew quiet, Her? what did you mean "You joined the army as soon as you could" Lucy looked at Alexia with a 'They are right' look "But i had people around me who knew and helped me. What if you needed help or what if Alessia got taken by being involved with you"

"YOU ARENT EVERYWHERE" Your mum's eye's both widen at the outburst. "S-sorry." You said before continuing "But when you guys are away on these Avenger level threats. Who looks after Barcelona. Who looks out for the neighbourhood." You looked at Alexia, who was looking at you dissapointed but her eyes betrayed her Her eyes looked at you with slight pride in her eyes. Lucy had a full on grin. "That who i am, I am the one who looks after Barcalona and Spain whilst you are gone. Being La araña is what i want to be." You said defiantly. Alexia leaned back placing her mouth over her mouth and looked at you with a unreadable expressions. You couldnt help but feel tears fall from your eyes and down your cheek. Alexia leaned forward and wiped away your tears "My Hija/hijo" She said nothing else as you embraced her, her holding you tight. You felt Lucy's hand on your back.

It felt like forever as she held you, she held you, You cried into your mother's shoulder, Feeling love and protection wash over you. But it had to eventually break by a Alexia looking at you sternly. "We will let you continue to be La araña IF you follow the rules we give" You smiled and nodded as you wiped your tears "Firstly you will train on your combat with me, Kerr and Leon." You were excited but also grimaced at the fact of training with Hawkeye and Black Widow. Then lucy cleared her throat

"And there is no way, None, nadda, not a chance I am having my child swinging around in plain spandex. We got a." She held up your ripped suit with her thumb and finger with a disgusted look. "A lot of work to do" You gave a offended look "In the suit lab" You went wide eyed. The suit lab, where mum kept all her iron suits. You NEVER got to go there ever since you were 8. Lucy loved to let you play there and show off but then you got burnt on the arm by one of the blasters miss firing when you touched it. That resulted in a 4 month separation of your parents but that was a long time ago.

*Belly grumble*

You and your mother's looked down at your belly.

"Let's get you something t-oof" "LET ME THROUGH" You went tensed up as you saw a Millie Bright flying at you and engulfing you in a hug. "Thank goodness your ok!!" Lucy recovered and crossed her arms and laughed at the sight. Whilst Alexia smiled but it faltered at the idea that her Son/Daughter still being La Araña.

Next telling the Avangers

#lucy bronze #male reader #football imagine #england football #imagine #female reader #barcelona femeni #gn reader #lucy bronze imagine #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #marvel mcu #millie bright x reader #lucy bronze x reader #barca femeni #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiderman reader

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

The Police Station Scene

Arguably the most important season 1 Tarlos scene (it won the poll, after all!), the police station scene in 1x03 is undoubtedly iconic. The sheer chemistry between these two becomes truly apparent, and the journey they take throughout the scene...I have no words. Or perhaps I have many words. Yes, I think it's that second one. Many words. Under the cut, my analysis of this excellent scene.

We start out with TK in a pretty miserable situation. On top of everything else he's going through, he just got arrested, and at this point, he's not sure if the guys he fought are going to be pressing charges. For all he knows, he could be ending up in a jail cell using his one phone call to get Owen to come bail him out, something that Owen will probably not be too happy about. Not only that, but he's bleeding and his face clearly hurts judging by the ice pack he's holding to it. He's having a very bad night.

Then, things suddenly get even worse. Because the police officer coming to deal with him is none other than the guy he hooked up with and then later stormed out on. The guy TK had started having such strong and unexpected feelings for that he had given in to the urge to flee. The guy who TK assumes probably already thinks terrible things about him because of the way things went down the last time they were together. So now not only is this an undesirable legal situation, but it's also an awkward and embarrassing social situation. And now this guy knows that "TK" stands for Tyler Kennedy. Ugh.

From Carlos' perspective, he met this guy who was smokin' hot who he felt an instant connection with...this guy who made him feel for the first time like maybe he wasn't actually broken and then gave him the best orgasm of his life. Said guy then stormed out on him for what appeared to Carlos to be no good reason. He couldn't even be bothered to sit and have a meal and a little conversation. And now? This guy is out getting in bar fights completely sober, putting himself in a dangerous situation where he could very well get himself killed. This guy who Carlos already cares about, and who has seemingly completely rejected him at the first sign of Carlos wanting to get to know him. Carlos is hurt but he's also angry. Most of all, Carlos is angry about the fact that TK is being so completely reckless with his own safety.

The guys from the bar fight don't want to press charges, so Carlos tells TK that he's free to go. But he can't stop from giving TK a little advice. He's not trying to be his boyfriend (lie) or even his friend if he's not into it (oh, Carlos) but he tells TK that he "should talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal." Carlos says this without knowing that TK was suicidal and acted on it not long ago.

TK appears to be affected by this but says nothing. It appears that maybe the fight has gone out of him...until Carlos lets him know that he has something on his face, giving him a box of tissues to take care of it. TK gets visibly frustrated when Carlos tells him he's trying to clean off the wrong side. But then Carlos does something that TK doesn't expect.

He says, "Stop, just...let me." And with a shaky hand, he uses a tissue to dab at the spot on TK's face.

This clearly isn't nothing to Carlos. The emotion in his eyes is undeniable. He cares. That simple act of caring is enough to break TK's walls down the tiniest bit. To allow him to show some vulnerability. TK wants to explain.

He apologizes for what happened between them and tells him that he just went through a really bad breakup, "like nuclear bad," and then he relapsed. Not, as Carlos assumes, with him, but with substances. TK is giving Carlos a piece of himself, trusting him in a way he has not trusted anyone else he's met in Texas, as much as he likes them and enjoys working with them.

Carlos recognizes the significance of this moment of vulnerability. But it's more than that. It gives him context for what happened. TK wasn't just being a jerk and storming out because he didn't care to get to know Carlos. He has serious things going on. And...the champagne! TK has issues with substances and Carlos had offered him champagne without even asking first!

Carlos, always quick to blame himself, apologizes, and in that moment, his walls come down a little too. He had been trying to play it stoic and tough and like he didn't care so, so much. (Of course he already gave himself away when he started gently wiping TK's face)

But TK doesn't stop there. He gives Carlos more of himself, explaining that, ever since he's gotten to Austin, it's just grey. And he feels numb all the time. To explain why he started the bar fight, TK says, "I guess I just--I wanted to feel something."

Carlos looks at him. The anger is gone. He has understanding in his eyes...and that look of caring is still there, too. He watches TK gather his things and stand up. Carlos could have said anything in this moment. He chooses to tease TK a little. TK said he started a fight because he just wanted to feel something, so Carlos tells him, "Judging by that lip, I'd say mission accomplished."

TK looks at him with annoyance. He kind of can't believe that THIS is Carlos' reaction to his vulnerability!

"You really busting my balls right now?"

But Carlos stands his ground as the corner of his mouth goes up slightly.

"Yeah, I suppose I am."

Carlos made the right choice here because TK smiles too.

They like each other so much.

I fully believe that everything that happens after wouldn't have happened without this scene. It's pivotal in their relationship. The journey they go through is incredible! From this:

To this:

Iconic and unmatched.

#911 lone star #911 lone star rewatch 2024 #sorry i can't control myself #THIS SCENE #lone star rewatch

[the-common-cowgirl]

It’s Only Forever, Not Long at All…

Chapter 1: Into the Labyrinth

Labyrinth AU Mini-Series. Each Chapter based on the chronological soundtrack of the cult classic film, Labyrinth (1986).

Goblin King!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Rating: Ch. 1 is General

Summary: Life at home is not fair, your only escape is your beloved fairytale novel, The Labyrinth. However, everything is about to change when you make a heat-of-the-moment mistake, causing you to strike an unfair deal with the one and only, Goblin King.

Warnings: teenage angst

Word Count: 2960

A/N: I know chapter 1 doesn’t delve too far from the original story, however, it’s pivotal for the remainder of the story so I kept it closely canon and will start separating in chapter 2.

Series Masterlist

Thunder rumbles distantly as you make your way across the park. The skies are gloomy overhead but you pay no attention. No, your mind isn’t stuck in the present. It dances to a realm where a handsome king holds you in his arms as you stare deeply into his eyes: in love. You clutch the fairytale novel, The Labyrinth, close to your home-made, hand sewn corset you made all by yourself after becoming infatuated with this book nearly four years ago. Now at eighteen, your childish obsession has somewhat taken over your life.

Your bedroom was covered in “Labyrinth” memorabilia. You had learned to sew garments that fit the fantasy world you pictured in your mind, creating an extensive array of different pieces. Your step-mother had a music box crafted for your sixteenth birthday, as a way of trying to grow closer to you. It was a miniature version of yourself in a big, white, puffy fantasy wedding gown and hair done up in pearls and beads in an intricate way. You loved that version of you in that music box so much that you had set out to remake the gown, it had taken two years but it was nearly finished and you couldn’t wait to put it on.

Your stepmother’s attempt at becoming friendly with you had worked, until it didn't. She had merely suggested one night recently that you should pursue a degree in fashion after you graduated since you loved sewing garments so much. The suggestion infuriated you, for she had been so close to understanding what fueled your passion for creating things, yet so far. You only created and learned to sew because of your love of reading, specifically your love of this book. How could she be so blind to not see that? That night a verbal fight had ensued between your step-mother, father and yourself. A fight so bad, your step-mother picked up your baby sister, you baby half-sister, and left the room.

The residual feelings of unease still lingered in the home, weeks after the fight. Which led to now, in the park, you reciting the main character’s words to the Goblin King and the air around you as a way to escape your home-life and reality, if only for a short while.

“Give me the child. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is great,” your mind trails off as you try to remember the next line.

“Ugh,” you groan and hit the book in your hand to your head, maybe a little too hard as it stings slightly “ I can never remember that line!” It’s true, you couldn’t, but you were also in the middle of trying to memorize the entire book so you should’ve given yourself more grace. You open the book to the page and passage in which you are trying to recite. Reading the words on the page aloud to yourself, “You have no power over me.”

As suddenly as you read the line, a large, snowy white owl swoops overhead, capturing your attention to the sky and a single raindrop falls onto your cheek as you head is cast upward to the rapidly darkening sky.

Which reminds you that you probably need to be back home by now. Your father had asked you to babysit your sister so he and your step-mother could go to a local fundraising gala and socialize the night away. The rain starts to come down harder now and you make your way back toward your home, running over the park’s bridge, right by the gazebo. Then when you reach the street, the clouds let loose and the downpour begins. You’re showered with water as you spring down the street, across a neighbor’s backyard and when you finally reach the back porch of your home that you found refuge from the wet in, you realize that not only are your garment’s soaked, so is your favorite book.

Grumbling angrily to yourself as you step into the house, past the kitchen and dining room and into the receiving room as you head up the stairs. Your self pity is stopped abruptly in your tracks as your stepmother calls from the bottom of the stairs, appearing from thin air.

“You’re late,” she called and you turned around halfway up the steps, “and you’re drenched!” She shrieks and turns to your father who is just out of sight, “Paul! Please explain to your daughter about punctuality and being presentable!” Her hair is in an updo as she puts on her earring. Her dress is a beautiful pale, satin pink; she’s the epitome of punctual and presentable.

Your father appears from the other room, “Y/N, you were not supposed to leave the house without our permission. Do you not remember that you're grounded?” His voice is stern but softer than your step-mother’s.

“I’m eighteen dad, you can’t ground me!” You stomp, childishly on the stair you’re standing on above them, water droplets falling with your action.

Your father brings up his pointer finger in warning, “As long as you live under my roof, I can still ground you. Now,” he raises his finger and points above you to the second floor, “Please take good care of Sarah tonight.”

“She’s already down for the night,” your step-mother adds as your father walks into the other room, “But if she wakes, just-”

“I know, I know,” you cut her off, “rock her to sleep and sing her her favorite songs and while I’m at it, why don’t I just give her my favorite things?” You raise your arms in a dramatic shrug.

Your step-mother sighs and grabs the baluster of the staircase, “Y/N, please do not disrespect me,” she says with a soft-sternness too familiar to you from her mouth; a plea. “I’m trying Y/N, but you’re making it,” you roll your eyes and start to walk further up the stairs, “so hard!” Her last two words are yelled to you as you go to your room, slam the door, and fall face-first onto your bed trying to drown out her yelling from downstairs.

They make you angry, both of them. They didn’t understand you or your interests. But, your father at least had the good sense not to bug you about what he didn’t understand; she didn’t. She’d constantly ask you about the book, about your projects, about the different characters, all to only ask once more, as if she didn’t store away information so important to you in her mind. You’d assumed if she truly wanted to know you, she’d make an effort. The nicest thing she had done was getting you that music box but even then, she made it more about your hobby of sewing than your passion for the fantasy element.

After some time, you heard the front door slam and that seemed to wake Sarah. You took a deep sigh, internally cursing them for waking your sister, half-sister. Pulling yourself from the bed, you made your way across the hall in the direction of the screaming to your father and step-mother’s room where Sarah had been sleeping. As you opened the door, the screaming intensified and you covered your ears as you approached the crying toddler in her pink-striped pajamas. You picked the toddler up as she continued to scream, not soothed by your presence in the slightest. You bounced her trying to sing against her wails, pacing around the room hap-hazardly as Sarah’s screams only seemed to worsen. As you passed her cradle for the third time, you recognized a stuffed animal she had been sleeping with to soothe her; your stuffed animal toy. The one your mother had given you when you were a baby.

Of course they’d give Sarah your things, she was your replacement with your father’s new wife. She was their precious girl, you were just a product of his last marriage to them, an inconvenience. You thought bitterly about how your step-mother wanted you out of the house, away at university and out of her hair and then she could play “perfect” family with her perfect daughter and no more. Just the three of them, the way it was meant to be.

And in that moment, all your anger seemed to snap.

You raised Sarah up in the air, still screaming and recited the fateful words, the words no one should say, yet…you did.

“I can bear no longer!” Tears streamed down Sarah’s face, “I wish, I wish…Goblin King! Goblin King! Wherever you may be, take this child of mine far away from me!” The wind rattled against the windows, making your heart skip a beat, wondering if somehow this chant had in fact, worked. But when you looked outside, you had just realized the sky was dark and the sun had set. You turn your attention back to Sarah as she continues to scream. “Ugh, Sarah,” you were impatient but now more relaxed as you let off steam. Laying her down, still crying, you grabbed the stuffed animal from her crib as she reached for it and walked back to your room briskly, to where it belonged. As you made your way across the hall, back toward the room Sarah was in, you heard her screaming abruptly stop. Your hand lingered above the handle of the door, wary as to why Sarah had stopped crying.

Opening the door, you called out, “Sarah?” Looking at her crib, you could see movements beneath the blanket but you couldn’t see her face. As you neared the crib, it moved sporadically, not in the way Sarah would move if she had fallen asleep. “Sarah?” You reached for the blanket to pull it from her face to make certain she was alright but the blanket moved again and you heard mischievous laughing from beneath. Your heartbeat quickened as you snatched the blanket from the crib to reveal nothing; Sarah was not there.

Behind you, you heard shuffling along the floor, then laughing as you turned, seeing a figure go underneath the queen bed skirt. Bending down in search of Sarah, you lifted the bed skirt to see nothing. “Sarah?” Your heart beat was quickening as you looked for your baby sister. “Sarah, this is not funny.” Something touched your leg and you jumped, looking down to see nothing. Shuffling was heard across the room and laughing from three different places were heard. You looked all around you in a panic, shadowy figures that resembled cats were hiding and peeking out from all around the room. You screeched as the creatures slowly emerged.

Suddenly behind you, the windows burst open with a warm gust of air and you quickly turned to be flooded with the white feathers of an owl. Covering your face so to not get scratched you shouted in fear. Then, the air was gone, the noise was gone, it was still. Slowly lowering your arms from your face, you were met with a towering, silver haired figure in a long coat, tight pants, knee high boots and an eye-patch….staring at you with a mischievous glint in his remaining eye.

And you knew.

“You’re him aren't you? You’re the Goblin King!” You accused, stepping back in fright. “I want my sister back, please, if it’s all the same.”

The corners of his mouth quirked, “What’s said is said.” His stern voice held finality.

“But I didn’t mean it,” you pleaded.

His smile grew from your words, “Oh you didn’t?” Raising a single brow.

A creature, a goblin, ran from behind you, frightening you into another shriek, between your legs and behind the King who waved his hands in front of each other and procured a glass-looking ball from what seemed thin air, like a magic trick. “I’ve brought you,” the orb danced across his fingertips as he transferred it from one hand to the other, “a gift.”

You felt inclined to take a step toward him but refused that feeling, “What is it?”

“It’s a crystal, nothing more. But, if you turn it this way and look into it,” he turned the crystal closer toward you, “it will show you your dreams. But it is not a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of a screaming baby.” He looked down to the crystal and his smile turned upside down as he looked up to you mischievously and threw the crystal at you, turning into a snake midair and landing on your chest. You screamed in terror as the snake fell to your feet and spun in tight circles, turning into a goblin and who laughed up at you.

When you raised your head to look at the king and you were suddenly in a new place, a realm of some sort, his realm. It was a dusty landscape and he stood above you, a warm wind blowing his silver locks across the tall black collar of his dust jacket. He raised a hand aside himself and procured an image of an ornate, golden grandfather clock whose hands spun sporadically. “You have twelve hours in which to solve the Labyrinth before your baby sister becomes one of us, forever.” He grinned devilishly, “At the center of the Labyrinth lies the Goblin City, and, my castle. You will find us there, waiting.” He pointed out beyond you.

You looked behind you to the massive maze in which you had to make it through in order to save your baby sister. At the center, far off in the distance, sitting atop a hill was a large castle: your destination.

“Turn back, turn back before it’s too late,” his voice rang behind you. As you turned you realized he had gotten closer, strangely close to you.

“I can’t,” you professed. “Don’t you know why I can't?”

He laughed deeply as he stepped backwards and began to disappear, “Such a pity.” His voice echoed around you, taunting you, encouraging you to fail.

You took a deep breath, stilling your mind and readied yourself for the task at hand. Turning, you set off and hurried down the hill to the tall, light dusty stone walls of the Labyrinth. Beginning your adventure into the world you had loved from pages for so long, that had now somehow, become your worst nightmare. You had to save your sister. You had to undo what you had caused. You had to solve the Labyrinth.

As you reached the towering walls you looked for an entrance into the maze and found there was none in sight, so you ran along the walls one way till you were nearly out of breath. Not seeing an end in sight, you turned and ran back the way you came and past that, until you were sorely out of breath. There was no entrance in sight, nothing but high stone walls that went on forever.

Feeling defeated and angry, you fell to the ground on your bottom, yelling, “It’s not fair!” Picking up a rock and throwing it to the wall without it to bounce back, rather, going through the wall. This puzzled you and you tilted your head.

“Life’s not fair,” a gravelly voice sounded behind you, causing you to startle. You saw a strange looking goblin walking about, spraying fairies and paying no mind to you.

“Hey! Don’t hurt them,” you reach out to scoop up an injured fairy that had been sprayed by this goblin. It looked at you with its little eyes and cute wings. You wondered why he had sprayed a thing so innocent and minding itself.

Then you felt a sharp sting in your hand and dropped the fairy, “Ow! It bit me!” Holding your hand to your mouth to stop the small pain.

“What did you expect a fairy to do?” He grogged and turned toward you as if we were dull.

“I don’t know…nice things like granting wishes?”

The goblin rolled his eyes, “Shows what you know, don’t it?” He returned to spraying the fairies but you had an idea.

Jumping up, “Hey, you live here don’t you? Why don’t you show me how to get into this place?” You put your hands on your hips with renewed hope.

The goblin and his sprayer turned, “Well, have you tried to get in?”

You furrowed your brow in confusion, “I’ve looked but there doesn't seem to be an entrance-”

“Just go through it,” he replied hastily, bored with your presence.

This puzzled you further. “Go through it?” You echoed and he merely nodded his head.

To get in you just walk in.” He spoke as if it were the plainest answer possible, the impossible.

Intrigued by his suggestion and oddly believing this goblin despite what help he offered to be very impossible, you decided to try it. So, you turned and walked to the stone wall with trepidation, hands raised. As you neared the wall, your hands slowly disappeared, then your arms, then you were on the other side of the wall, in the Labyrinth.

Elated, you returned back to the outside to thank this helpful goblin. “Wow, I just go through it!” He only rolled his eyes and returned to spraying the fairies. “Thank you, uh,” you hadn’t gotten his name.

“Hoggle,” he offered while paying you minimal attention.

“Thank you, Hoggle!” Excited, you slipped back into the maze. Turning around, you looked at the high walls before you and exhaled a deep sigh. Into the Labyrinth you went in search of your sister, to right your wrong, to defeat the Goblin King.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated but not necessary. ❤️❤️

IOF,NLAA Taglist: @sassysaxsolo @fan-goddess

#fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #gameofthrones #smut #aemond targaryen #game of thrones #labyrinth #aemond #aemond smut #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #goblin king #goblin king aemond #aemond one eye

[moonshynecybin]

unfortunately I do not have the skills to write this but I’ve been thinking so much about vale and marc fucking after assen 2015. vale being on cloud nine because he just won and marc has been showing him through his words and body language that he’s capable of feeling anger towards vale too, and it makes vale feel less of a piece of shit for having experienced this exact same feeling towards marc from the start of the season. and marc is so mad but he can’t just reject vale one of the few time he’s actually in a good mood, he can’t reject vale at all really. while vale just wants to kiss marc so bad to taste the bitterness in his mouth. also i know vale loves when marc is acting like a brat towards him, playing hard to get, which makes vale even more insane when marc still ends up losing his head under vale’s hands 🙃

assen 2015 is weird because looking back yeah of course vale was more irritated about marc's reaction than he said, and the relationship was probably starting to show its cracks a bit more. BUT assen was in JUNE and they didnt actually get divorced until OCTOBER. so theres like four full months of them still being visibly on good terms (they did post race grabby hands at sachsenring! and indy! and motegi!) until the ACTUAL trigger for divorce kicks in and vale starts feeling the pressure of jorge gaining and the uccio Telemetry Powerpoint of Evil influences his whims. and as much as ive written essays about assen as linchpin to divorce, it should be noted that both of them were very sweet and happy in that post-race pressconference, and even when theyre disagreeing theyre joking around! like rosquez dont generally like to do their confrontations head-on off-track (with a few notable exceptions). even in argentina. send uccio etc. SOOO all this to say they were absolutely fucking nasty at assen. undoubtably. i was there i SAW it

and it IS a little tense from vale but alsooooo they are not talking about why it is tense (vale is TRYINGGG to be cool and chill and marc is still cheerfully stubborn in believing he should win but also being like. its on track why would that matter to vale ?? he is like me he can separate it :) [<- clueless]) so i think. in order to incorporate the lovelyyyy idea you had about marc being a little brat and to incorporate their insanely messed up communication style during this period we can have marc JOKING (not entirely) about how he should have won in a bratty little skit that doesnt quiteeee land and vale playing along, while still nurturing a beautiful knot of resentment in his narrow little elf-man chest...

like marc IS being a leedle annoying a little goofy and vale usually finds it more charming BUT he also WON todayyyyyy and he loves assen so hes gonna have some fun. hot twink that he is in love with is throwing himself at him cmon. and maybe marc is postrace sweaty, shows up at wherever vale is... and hes like midsentence jabbering about the chicane or whatever, playing petulant but not really that mad, laughing more than anything, and vale's sitting down and cannot fucking believe this guy but also. this is before the paranoia sets in!!! and thats just marc!!! and hes being goofy and so beautiful and IRRITATING and vale just pulls him into his lap. cuts him off with an absolutely NASTY kiss. much ado about nothing voice come, i will stop thy mouth... and it starts off with vale getting a little rougher than normal. a little handsier. biting a little harder. line of hickies up marc's neck like this imageeee and a hand big and possessive on his lower back. consuming. and marc is so lost in the babygirl sauce hes just like completely onboard for the vibe shift when vale starts tugging at his clothes and thatsssss why he rates assen as his favorite moment of the season later <3 because vale fought with him on track and then made him come TWICE <3

#if i had a dollar everytime i googled motogp 2015 season to look up the results on wikipedia i would be. so rich #the thing is i dont think marc is hard to get. WHATSOEVER if your name is valentino rossi #motogp #callie speaks #asks #rosquez #answered so many of these that marc and vale are starting to feel like abstract concepts more than my little barbie dolls to play with. #might slow down a little we shall see

[malice-ov-mercy]

if time is the cure, will you remember me?

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (unnamed)

Content Warnings: unrequited love, friends to strangers, angst, implied traumatic event (nothing detail or specified)

A/N: Don’t ask me how many times I’ve listened to Riptide. This is also just kind of… word vomit??? Idk. Super happy with it tho regardless. The italicized but is a flashback

Word Count: 1k

Tag List: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @an-insane-day @lyschko666 @calisto-thoughts @emzandthevoid @shroomfairy24 @cncohshit @dominuslunae @th4t-em0-k1d

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Lorna Shore!

Will Masterlist

Water lapped at Will’s feet, the cool water sending a trail of goosebumps up his legs. His warm, sun kissed skin fought against the chilling ocean air. He should have started the long trek back to his car a while ago, but he couldn’t pull himself away from the desolate beach. Something kept his feet firmly planted in the sand. He watched the chameleon sky, marveling despondently at the ever changing color. Bright oranges and reds painted the lingering clouds that hid the setting sun.

All day he avoided going in the water. The salt always wreaked havoc on his hair and he didn’t want to deal with it this time around—but its call now was deafening. Will couldn’t ignore it if he tried. An invisible lead pulled heavily at his heart, persuading him to answer. He trudged through the wet sand, each step feeling as if he had weights tied around his ankles.

As Will waded further out, he wrapped his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to warm the chill settling in his blood and bones. The frigid water made his teeth chatter. Shivers rippled through him, the water now up to his neck. He could taste the salty air as he inhaled a deep breath before plunging under the dark waters.

Black. That’s all that surrounded him.

Will let himself drift, floating limply wherever the ocean pulled him, freely submitting to whatever it was that called him. The abyss and nothingness surrounding him provided solace, something he sought every waking moment these days. Weightless and momentarily disconnected from reality, his thoughts wandered over the hurdles and barricades littering the folds of his brain.

“I have done everything, everything I possibly can to have you,” Will said, voice heavy with hurt. “I wore myself down to keep you safe and floating. I am so agonizingly and hopelessly in love with you and you’re just pulling me along.”

Her golden eyes fixed on his, her stare dull and emotionless. It was like he was sinking in quicksand every time he looked at her anymore. With every attempt Will made to save himself, she was quick to pull him deeper. He knew the danger lurking, he knew he was doing this to himself, that whatever blissful fabricated life with her he built up in his head was just that—a lie.

Try as he might, she wouldn’t be his and she didn’t want to be.

“What do you want me to do, Will?” Her voice was quiet, barely audible. She almost sounded sad.

“Just… let me go. Please.”

The last remaining intact pieces of Will’s heart shattered when she crashed their lips together. He sighed, desperate and pleading, his hands instantly gripping her face and pulling her closer. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. God knows he’d never taste her poisonous kiss again, so he let himself savor the bittersweet heartbreak. She was Heaven and Hell all in one, wrapping him beautifully in chains and locks that only she held the keys for.

Maybe Will had masochist tendencies with the way he always let her hurt him. Subconsciously he must if he kept crawling back and subjecting himself to her games. Perhaps the fool’s gold that inhabited her irises succeeded in their job, tricking him and making him the biggest fool of all. He hoped she couldn’t feel the slight tremble of his hands or the tears staining his cheeks.

“I love you,” she breathed against his neck, her teeth marking a path she had no right to, “but I don’t love you.”

Abruptly and to both of their surprise, Will stepped out of her grasp. She tried to reach for him, but he softly swatted her hand away. It only lasted a moment, but Will saw her façade crack.

“I love you, and I don’t want to.”

Hot air blasted full force through his car vents, the chill of the ocean lingering in his bones. Will held his hands directly over the heat source. His fingers ached with cold. He was grateful he remembered to pack extra clothes. Time both crept and sped by as he warmed up. Before he knew it, the sky had gone dark.

The sound of his phone made him jump. He didn’t recognize the number and was tempted to let it go, but something in his gut told him to answer.

“Hello?”

“Will?”

His blood ran cold. Why was she calling him?

Several years had gone by without so much as a peep, essentially ghosted and left abandoned with a gaping hole in his chest. All the work Will spent regenerating a new heart suddenly felt meaningless. He wasn’t that fool anymore, but an all too familiar constriction started squeezing his throat and heart.

Venom laced Will’s words. “What do you want?”

“I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

Her voice came through fragmented. Will regretted his harsh tone.

“What do you need?” He asked again, gentler this time.

“I—“ She trailed off, like she was trying to stay quiet. “Can you… Is there any way you can come get me?”

The crack in her already broken voice chipped away at Will’s heart. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t leave her hanging if she was in danger.

“Tell me where you are.”

Two and a half silent, dark hours proved to be enough time for Will to relive every moment he’d ever experienced with her. Head games, pain and heartbreak. The happiest memories hurt the most, however. Things he swore he’d healed from picked like vultures at old scars. He could feel wounds breaking open.

Alone on a bench she sat, a hollow, shivering shell. The smile she gave him was pathetic and weak and it certainly didn’t reach the tarnished gold of her eyes. Life seemed to not have been the kindest to her. She looked awful. In her current state, it was almost hard to believe the spell she used to have on him. His heart ached.

They didn’t speak a word as Will carefully tossed her medium sized bag in his trunk. He helped her into the passenger seat and closed the door with a little more force than intended. She watched every move he made intently up until he cranked the heater. Her body relaxed into her seat, and she let out a quiet sigh, eyes falling shut.

“Where am I taking you?” Will spoke softly.

“Anywhere.” She replied. “Just… take me away.”

He glanced at the fragile being, then started in the only direction he could think:

Home.

#will ramos x ofc #will ramos fanfiction #will ramos fanfic #will ramos fic #lorna shore fanfiction #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore fic

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

A Date with Mc-Barbatos

like always ‘’ is for thoughts and sorry if they are out of character, decent length it´s 637 words

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“I´m glad you could come, I was worried you already had plans for today or other things which would require you assistance” Barbatos said ‘wow he sure noticed me fast’

“quiet lucky I would say, usually Lucifer needs me to keep his Brothers in line but seems like today he´s out of luck” he smiled at my words “you better not let Lucifer catch you saying this, I don´t think he would show mercy to you even if you´re his favourite Human”

I remembered all of Lucifer´s former punishments and had to wince a bit “yeah that´s true even when he´s holding back because I´m a lot less durable than his Brothers it still isn´t nice”

Barbatos smiled at me “but you don´t have to worry about this today” he lead me towards the table, no doubt set up by him “let´s just forget all of our troubles and commitments for today” after making me sit down he sat in front of me “what would you like to drink tea or coffee? But I´m certain I can guess what you want” after pouring my liquid of choice in the cup I decided to speak up “so~” I said with a teasing grin “what was this about forgetting our troubles and commitments? seems like you aren´t ready to forget yours”

he smiled “ah but you forgot my Dear you aren´t any troubles for me at all” he looked at me for a moment “actually… I do have to admit you can be quiet troublesome at times” I had to hold myself back from laughing “to be fair most of the time I´m not the one who starts the trouble” it seems like he didn´t see the humor in my words because he lightly glared at me, or maybe he just refuses to humor my excuses

I took the pot of tea from his hands “you know I think you should sit back and relax to, makes me feel bad watching you run around doing things I could do myself” I poured him a cup of tea and cutting a piece of cake for each of us “your spoiling me”

“if this counts as spoiling you Barbatos I´m doing a bad job” he seemed amused “this is not true, I don´t think many would be willing to climb a mountain just to get tea leaves for me”

“you´re acting like it was hard, all I did was teleport there, fought a wild beast got the leaves and left” he laughed as he remembered the story I told him “ah yes instead of using magic to defeat it you thought it would be smart to initiate hand to hand combat because you wanted to test if Beelzebub helped you get stronger” he glared at me “and I would like to remind you to never do this again”

‘yikes! if I didn´t know he´s saying this because he´s worried about me I would be terrified’

“y-yeah I got it after our first talk you know? you were… really convincing” he was amused by seeing my terrified face ‘just like last time’

“well it wouldn´t do us any good by staying in the past, not when I planned a wonderful evening for us” this got my curiosity, it seems like he noticed because he continued “you better finish fast because our next activity requires some light for us”

I don´t know what he was talking about but I decided to listen

after I was finished and Barbatos cleaned up, despite me insisting I could help, he showed me what he was talking about before

“so what you planned for us was dancing? you do know I´m not exactly the best” he took my hand in his “don´t worry my Dear” he kissed my hand “just let me take the lead for today”

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personally the ending feels kinda abrupt, but I also don´t know what I could add :/

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me barbatos #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader

[c-is-for-circinate]

Been thinking on and off all day about the Ashton backstory reveal last night, and the way it sort of cracks open Taliesin's "this is a character that has never had anything good happen to them, ever" for me. Been thinking about the idea of compounded trauma.

Because that's the thing about Ashton, right -- it's not that they've never had a single moment of happiness, of good, of friendship in their life. It's that they just keep losing it. In brand new ways, again and again and again. And I love that as a character note so much.

It's the way Ashton can think about being seven-ish-maybe-years-old, seeing the faces of his parents whose faces he didn't even remember, and can go, 'oh, shit, yeah, that old horrible thing, I hadn't even thought about that one in a while'. It's about that tiny child who just survived the destruction of everything, home and family and maybe even their own body, who was changed beyond repair -- and the difference between that child and the grown adult barbarian you see before you now, kintsugi skull, pieced together from the rubble of a brand new crisis after a whole lifetime of them. (Tell me growing up in an orphanage in this town wasn't a traumatic experience all in its own right.)

Just. The idea that Ashton could come face to face with the memory of their parents and think, it has been so long, there has been so much in the time in between, that you aren't even the wound that hurts the sharpest any more. You aren't even the most traumatic thing my friends know about me.

And also the way that of course, of course we can look at grown-ass adult Ashton and say, yeah, I see those attachment issues, I see that desperate need for control spun out of a childhood of loss and chaos, of course everything about the person you are is rooted back there in that event and that day. The way that both are true at once.

I don't have the right words for this. I don't have the right words for the aching beautiful truth of it, how you can be hurt so badly as a child and grow back twisted and bent from it, and then those twists and bends set you up perfectly to be pierced by all new and different danger, with just enough scar-callous to save you from that one too. And the most recent blow cuts the sharpest, and the long-scabbed-over gash in the roots doesn't really bleed at all any more, it just aches, sometimes, when the weather goes bad, when some new trauma puts pressure on the whole torqued-up tangled knot of you. It just directed the growth of everything that came after.

And so Ashton is full of fear, of rage, of helplessness, of desperation for control. Of so many things that have stacked up, little by little, over so many years; things that are about being a Greymoore teen and a Nobody adult and a Hishari child, as much one as any other. Full, now, of brand newer things that come from being a Bell's Hell. Engraved with new trauma now! New things to make Ashton into an even newer person, piling up even more.

These are layers we often see on characters after an epic adventure or a campaign, in fact. The M9 took their starting trauma and layered upon it a purple tiefling in a bloody field; layered Yasha, blood in her eyes and sword in Beau's chest; layered fear and desperation in a world of ice and cold. VM fought dragons and demons and death itself, and healed some things, sort of, by the end, but broke so many other ones. New traumas to stab them in new places, new nightmares, new dreams.

It's just really cool to see a character come in with those things already at the start of play.

#cr spoilers #critical role #c3e34 #ashton greymoore #cw trauma