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#i wonder how you stay alive when all i do is freeze
groguspicklejar · 17 hours
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Under Your Spell
Chapter 1: Sink Your Teeth
Pairing: Gaz x f!reader x Soap
Warnings: dark fic!!! dubcon/noncon touching, nonconsentual filming, manipulation, smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, rough sex, mirror sex, male masturbation, one-sided pining.
A/N: idk how but this just spawned right out of me :)
+18 Only!!! No Minors or Ageless Blogs are to read this!!! And if you're not comfortable with the warnings above and the tags, do not read!!!
[Part 2] [Part 3]
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They return at the same time. Your eyes dart around as people pour out from the terminal gate until you spot them. Both still in their green uniforms, both weary and drained from their last mission.
Kyle instantly smiled when he sees you waiting for him and beelines for you. Nothing but relief flooded you when he drops his duffle bag and brings you into his arms and spins you around. Gleeful squeals are all that leave you when he does this and puts you down while kissing the side of your head. “God, you’ve no idea how much I missed you, doll.”
You’re a little breathless as he brings his mouth upon yours for a sweet kiss. “I have a distinct feeling that you’ll remind me when we get home.”
His eyes darken for a second. “Don’t you start.”
Smiling, you shift out of his grasp and turn to his companion. “Hey, Soap.”
“Good tae see ye again, bonnie.” John MacTavish, ever the enthusiast, grins widely at your greeting. You were surprised at how tightly Soap embraced you, but returned the gesture nonetheless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin.
He’s touchy, this one. Even more than your husband is. But that’s just Soap, he’s the affectionate one of the group and you’ve grown used to it by now. Soap’s arms tighten when you squirm and giggle, asking him if he’ll let go now.
You roll your eyes. He does this every time.
Although, today might be a little different.
“A few more minutes, bonnie” You flinch when he presses a kiss on your neck, lips then brushing against the curve of your ear as his voice lowers. “I’ve missed ye.”
For all of five seconds, you freeze, unsure of how to respond. Wondering if the ringing in your head was just you overreacting or if he was being as serious as you think he is.
You’re all too aware of the weight of his hands on your back, how he seems far too content with staying just like that. How he seems to want to melt into your bones and never leave.
Clearing your throat, you gently pull away. He’s just friendly. He’s just Soap. You’re reading into things that aren’t there.
“Okay.” you manage to smile again. “Who’s hungry?”
You don’t think they could’ve been any happier at that moment.
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You didn’t think much about that moment after that. You’ve just been too busy appreciating Kyle’s presence back home.
“You’ve been banking on this, haven’t you?” He’s got you bent over the sink, still in his gear. He’s on his knees as you plant your hands against the mirror. “Walking around wearing nothing under this.”
Your floral pink dress had been hiked up to your hips. His mouth sucking hotly on the skin of your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. His teeth nip your ass, earning a faint whimper.
Weeks of pent up agitation. Weeks without Kyle. It's never easy. Watching him leave, hoping he stays alive, praying he comes back to you still alive and in one piece. Hardly a night goes by when you don't think about him.
Hardly a moment goes by without thinking about the way he touches you. With fevor, with reverence. You've bought more batteries for your vibrator in the last few years than the average person does in their entire lifetime.
You’re trying to keep quiet. Trying not to let the throbbing between your thighs overrule your logic as you try to keep your voice lowered. Johnny’s in the guest room and the walls aren’t thick. You can’t bear the thought of him hearing what your husband does to you in the dead of night.
“My pretty little whore.” The trepidation in your bones increases when he buries his face in your pussy. You cover your mouth, eyes fluttering when his tongue cards between your folds, a loud groan following, echoing through the bathroom tiles. “Sitting in a public airport, waiting for me with no panties on. And you say I’m the nasty one, you hypocrite.”
A strained mewl escapes between your fingers. Your forehead lays against the mirror as he spreads your folds and licks your quivering pussy. And he does so slowly, with the patience of a saint.
Fuck, you've missed him.
“I’m not the one eating if from the ba–ah!” Your retort crest into a high pitch, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Too fast, too soon. Too loud. He suckles on your clit and rolls it between his tongue, hands gripping your ass to keep you still when you squirm too much.
The edge of a cliff is eerily too close and he's determined to nudge you just over it. Sparks crackle and light a fire down your spine. You want to reach for his hair but you can't leg go of the sink or risk removing the only barrier that keeps you from being too loud.
There's not much that can be done about the lewd wet noises that come from Gaz devouring you, but you muffle your own noises with the back of your wrist whilst still trying to beg him for more. “Kyle– please–”
You try to whisper, but it comes out in a hiccup. A weak moan, a plea for more, for mercy. For anything. Much to your devastation, he stops and grins at you with glistening hips and chin.
“Why are you getting all shy on me, love? You wanted this.” He stands up and you want to beg him to kneel again, but your eyes trail to his hands as you look behind. He's undoing his belt and rucks his pants down enough for his to reveal his cock.
You're trying not to be too distracted by how thick and veiny it is, how fucking good he's going to stretch you out. Instead, you meet his heated gaze. “I’m trying not to let our guest know what we’re up to.”
Kyle gently orders you to place your knee on the sink because he wants a clear view of your pussy. His arm wraps around you. You're set ablaze at the blunt tip sliding through your folds, a choked whimper muffled by how hard you bit your lip.
“Who cares if he hears us?” He keeps your stare through the mirror, angling his hips, drawing for the kill. Your skin prickles hotly when his cock pushes inside. He pulls out, only for a brief second, a miniscule moment of anticipation. “All that matters–”
His hips snap. A surprised scream tears out of your throat. He slides right home, filling you in ways you've missed, ways you could only find in dreams.
“–is our happy reunion.” he groans out, slowly pulling out and drawing inside again.
Your head lays against his shoulder. His cock is throbbing as he slowly pulls out and for a moment, you think he's going to take his time. He almost always does. But no—
A loud moan echoes through the bathroom when he snaps his hips again, sinking his cock deep inside your cunt. He presses you against the ceramic basin, face buried in your neck with his deep groan melting into your bones.
His hands pawed at the bodice of your dress until he's had enough of the fabric getting in the way. Suddenly, you gasp at the buttons that popped and spilled all over as he tore it open, granting him access to your breasts.
There was no time to reprimand him for that as he already started gliding his shaft in and out, muttering a strained curse into your ear. Pleasure coursed through your veins like rivers of molten lava, burning every sense of logic.
He made you look at him through the mirror and his hand reached between your legs. “Now be a good girl and let me hear you.”
“Gaz–” you choked, trying to keep your voice down. Your hand automatically goes to cover your mouth when your squeal pierces through the air, his thrusts becoming harder, more precise. You're spiralling further and further away from your grip on sanity with each drag of his length.
The power he had over you was frightening. But you couldn't find a drop of fear in your blood. He was so good at numbing every rational thought in your head with the way he easily bends your body to his will.
He fills you up so good, it's impossible to resist the flood that builds inside. Your pussy is fluttering and creaming around him already as he's fucks you in earnest, his rough palms groping your breasts under the torn material of your dress. Your skin already burns hot from the wet salacious noises and your own helpless mewls are muffled behind your hand.
“No hands on your mouth.” he commands, dragging your hand away, heated eyes seeing into you through his reflection. “Or I won’t let you cum.”
It's harsh. Almost bordering on cruel. But you've never known Kyle to go back on his promises. If he says he will or won't do something, it's more than likely that he means it and he'll stand on his word.
“Let him hear you. Let him hear how sweet you’re being for me.” It's pure sin whispered into your ear through harsh grunts and nips of his teeth. His fingers slip through your folds, dragging through the wetness and bringing it to circle around your throbbing clit. You can't help the moans that bleed out of your throat. “That’s it, love. That’s it. Be as loud as you need.”
His hips grind into you almost to the point where it's painful. There's going to be bruises on your hips from the way he's kept you pinned against the sink. Your hooded gaze is drawn to the mirror, watching the way your husband's cock glistens between hurried thrusts.
You're already at the brink of your limit with Kyle muttering endless filth about how he wouldn't mind showing Soap how good this pussy gets fucked every night upon his return, how Soap would be made to beg for a taste of you.
“He's a fucking dog, that one. He'd slobber all over your cunt if he even thinks he's got a chance.” Kyle says while rubbing your clit harder, his gaze focused on your drunken expression. “Would you give it to him, love? Would you let him eat your pussy?”
Your eyes roll back at the thought. Your mouth hung open as a long mewl escapes your lungs when you tighten around his cock. He fucks you harder when you cum. And keeps the pace up until it stutters and he floods your pussy with his spend.
You don't know what to make of Kyle's words. Except to chalk them as just that. Words. Just words. He can't actually want his best friend to fuck you, that's ridiculous.
If Soap heard what was going on in the other room, he didn’t breathe a word about it the next day. He was as chipper as a man can be, in fact. He's whistling as he walks into the kitchen as you're boiling water for Kyle's tea and your coffee.
“Mornin’, bonnie.” His grin is the widest it has ever been. You flinch when his hand brushes the small of your back when he walks past you. The touch is brief, but you can feel the heat radiating from his palm, seeping into your skin through your crisp shirt.
He's a fucking dog, that one.
Would you let him eat your pussy?
Your resolve falters. The unholy thoughts filter into your mind a million times at a second. Soap spreading your legs open with that mischievous glint in his eyes before he starts to lick the viscous fluid from your cunt. Your own body betrays you, a pulse slowly coming to life between your thighs.
Would you give it to him, love?
You pour a mug for Johnny. He preferred coffee. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” He pecks your cheek when you hand him the ceramic cup. “Feels good tae sleep on a bed tha’ doesn’t feel like a rock.”
You wished with all your might to not let it affect you. His proximity had never been a problem before. Now it grates at your existence. Whatever Kyle said to you the night before has taken root and has dug its way through some dark part of you that you haven't quite let into the light.
You need to rip it out. From the root and never let it grow back. You can't let it ruin your marriage. You can't let it get between a perfectly good friendship.
Kyle chuckled as he entered the kitchen. “Amen to that.”
It felt nice to have the boys back home. But alas, you had places to be and things to do and you wanted some semblance of space away from your husband's best friend so you can think clearly.
Both of them sat down across from each other at the table in the middle of the kitchen, drinking the tea/coffee you made for them. You had already gotten dressed for the day and went to grab your bag from the sofa while sipping your coffee. Johnny's voice follows you when you slink it over your shoulder, the weight of your laptop straining your bones. “Where are ye going, love?”
“Work.” You take one big gulp of your coffee before heading over to the sink. “Got an early meeting.”
You try as best as you can not to catch Soap's eyes as you finish the rest of your early morning hot beverage.
“Damn, really?” Kyle frowns. “Can’t you take a day off?”
“Unfortunately not, hon.” Your nearly empty cup goes in the sink and you head over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Some of us don’t get to have extended paid leave for saving the world because well… we don’t save the world.”
He puts his mug down on the table. “Let me drive you to work then.”
“No, it’s okay.” you pecked his lips and patted his shoulder. “You can stay in and get some sleep. Lord knows you need it.”
The last bit was whispered with a cheeky smile though you're sure Soap heard before you whirled away from him, letting his exasperated groan follow you to the door. “Dollface…”
“I’m right here, ye ken.” Johnny grumbles, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Apologies, Johnny.” you giggled just as Kyle stood up.
“Come on, I’m dropping you off. And I’ll be picking you up later too.”
It's very unlikely that he'll be taking no for an answer, so you graciously accept.
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“Look at the mirror, dollface. So pretty for me, darlin. All for me.”
Smut bastard, Johnny grits his teeth, jerking the hand around his leaking cock faster. The light from his phone illuminated his face in the dark room.
The flowers printed on your dress had been ruffled and torn wide open, revealing your breasts for display, showing the way they jiggled with each hard push of Kyle's hips. The man's hand played with one tit while the other splayed on your stomach with your dress bunched up, revealing the prize between your legs.
The hidden camera worked like a charm. Connected to Soap's phone to alert him when the motion detector had been set off and let him see and record everything. He's been playing the video back on repeat ever since you left for work.
It was Kyle's idea, a way to just rub it in Johnny's face on what he's missing out on. You.
Gaz, despite being open to the idea of letting another man fuck you, has been greedy about you since the very beginning. He doesn't brag about you to the squad. Always kept it hush-hush when it comes to you, even to Price.
That was until Gaz noticed the little crush obsession Soap had. Though it was kind of obvious with the way he kept asking about you. How you were, what you were probably doing at particular times of the day. Basic things. Innocent things. Harmless enough to keep Soap from spiralling while he's on deployment, harmless enough to make him look forward to come to visit you.
“You worry about Soap hearing you, but what if he saw us like this, hm?” Kyle's gravel tone crackles through the phone. Soap fixes his eyes on the way his cock batters your sweet pussy, your whimper making his blood sing. “Naughty girl— You liked that, don't you?”
Johnny feels his shaft throb with want, with a vicious need dig his fingers into your skin through the bloody screen. Just an ounce of shame bleeding into his veins as he fists his cock, desperate for that release. Pining over his best friend's wife. Drooling over you like the fucking dog that he is.
It doesn't help that said best friend is helping him indulge this disgustingly insatiable need.
Your sweet voice crescendos into a cry of your husband's name when you cum. Soap watches the way your face scrunched in pleasure, your frame twitching in Kyle's arms. It is too much, triggering Soap's orgasm altogether.
It's a hot, blistering implosion. A savage curse taking root deep in his heart and wrapping around his veils, his bones. A hiss tears through the air, hips stuttering as he forces his cock through his lubed hand for a few more strokes while hot cum bursts from it.
He's shaking as the high slowly descends him back down to earth. Panting deeply as he lays heavily on the bed, heat and sweat clinging to his skin. All he can think of is you, you, you.
There was no erasing you from his mind. No after what he's seen. Not after Gaz made him pear through his most private moments with you, showing just how good you are to him.
Johnny groans as he finally lets go of his cock, swallowing thickly as he looks at the cum sticking to his palm.
“Hells fucking bells...”
Gaz is never going to let him live this down.
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[part 2; Split My Skin] Under Your Spell Masterlist posting this and going straight to sleep. bye✌🏽
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honeydippedwaffles · 7 months
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Smallest Drop - Part 2
Summary: Seeing as part one went well, I present to you the continuation but this time, from Astarion's point of view. Thank you all so much for your support. It makes me so happy to know the fandom is enjoying my work.
He honestly doesn't know what Tav wants from him or why she keeps stirring weird emotions in him and she only further confuses when she presents him with a thoughtful gift.
There will be a part 3. Tav is not mentioned by name.
Content Warnings: She/Her Tav
Word Count: 2.2k words
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
Astarion never considered himself particularly lucky but he knew how to adapt to situations beyond his control – keep himself alive and everything. He’d proven himself to be talented enough to seduce well, just about anyone.
Just about anybody it would seem but not a single member of the strangest group imaginable, also known as the one he’d chosen to travel with.
Because luck would mean the most frustrating woman in the world would be the one he aimed to… shall he say, convince about the benefits of staying close to his side.
Oh, she wasn’t exactly immune to his charms. He could see the effects when he moved close to her and her lips curled into a natural smile, attention flickering to him in anticipation of what he wanted to say. She brushed against his shoulder whenever she wanted to pass and laughed at his snide remarks.
All the things that he would usually consider a success; a sign he’d managed to win her heart in some form.
But then, she also went and did the absolute opposite.
Instead of pulling him aside in the camp when he offered and allowing him to drag his lips along her throat, she dragged him into the middle of the group to socialize. She leaned into his touches and then ran off to help save another puppy or whatever else caught her attention.
It annoyed Astarion because he knew she liked him but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. They’d spent one evening together and she appeared keen on more but then rather spent her nights teaching an owlbear how to sit.
Admittedly, a very cute pastime but still.
She ran a bath for him, washed his hair, and then promptly left him alone in the water instead of joining him for some fun. If he understood, he could easily provide but she made the first part infuriatingly difficult.
“Alright,” he said after she’d caught him staring into a blank mirror and spurned agitation in him by reminding him that he didn’t, in fact, know what colour his eyes once were. “Tell me what you see when you look at me. Surely you can describe my appearance well enough.”
She giggled and put a hand to her chin, as though considering. “I think we’d be sitting here the whole night if I did that. You’re so pretty, it’s unfair.”
Pride curled hot in his chest and his irritation simmered. Amazing how easily she managed to do such a thing. “Oh? Then name your favourite.”
She reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his face, freezing only when the action had already startled both of them. Astarion wondered why she stopped for only a second before he realised he’d shifted away from the touch, a movement done on instinct rather than thought.
Shit. That wasn’t going to help him.
She dropped her hand as though nothing happened. “I refuse to believe becoming a vampire changed you that much. There’s no way you weren’t this gorgeous before.”
She knew how to appeal to his vanity and the strangest thing about it was, he didn’t feel as though she did it on purpose. Her ceaseless flattery came naturally to her.
“It’s been over two hundred years since I last saw it and memories fade.”
A lie but not an important one. He remembered everything since the day he woke up in his coffin, panicked and struggling to breath though he didn’t need to. The pain of transforming, the agony of starvation, and unending confusion. Nothing slipped away and he hated it. Despised how the memories shoved their way forward.
But for now, he refused to think of them and instead waited to see what she thought of. She pressed her lips together tightly before she spoke.
“The first thing I noticed when I met you were your eyes. They’re red, obviously, but they’re also strong and piercing. You also get these crinkles beside them when you laugh.”
Again with the strangest compliments. Still, he took them in his stride this time. “That’s better. What else?”
“The way you smile. It’s dangerous and sharp but occasionally, genuine. It’s enough to charm anybody, I would say.”
He offered her a smile in response, pleased with the praise. He preened beneath her pretty words and happily took the knowledge close to heart. Meaningless flattery had always been one of his favourite things.
“Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we’ll call it a day.”
She laughed and tilted her head to the side. “You’re beautiful. I thought that much was obvious.”
But something in the way she said it ruined everything. She took the most boring compliment of the lot and meant it deeper than all the others. The teasing tone easily exposed the truth and the pride disappeared, replaced by something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Thank you,” he said. “Now was there any real reason for you to make your way over here?”
She didn’t really want anything but he’d almost expected it. Everything she found on their journey eventually got shared with him and today, she spoke about some woman’s letter she’d found. Nothing important.
Astarion thought that would be the end of it.
He continued to flatter her to make sure she always preferred him above their other companions and was rewarded when she continued to seek him out first. An entirely selfish action truly but she offered him a path forward.
The others had their strengths but something about her united them the best. If a chance existed where he could retain this ability to stand in the sun, he had no doubt she would be his best way there.
Even if she did insist on carrying about so much nonsense she found whenever they went out and helped every person with the smallest problems.
But then she found an empty book lying on the floor somewhere and she immediately began staring at him whenever it was open, scribbling away inside but always staring at him over the edges. Every time he offered her a quizzical glance, she smiled and continued with whatever she was doing.
She showed it to Wyll and Gale a few times but never brought it over for him to see.
Of course, if Astarion really wanted to, he could find what waited in those pages easily.
The parasite provided an easy path forward but she would know he wanted something when he dug around in her head. He didn’t sleep most nights but she rested deeply; deeply enough to allow a vampire to drink from her throat without even waking her like the true fool she was.
She knew, even laughed when he complimented her the next morning, but never once complained, just told him he was welcome back whenever.
Originally, he thought she may be too trusting but he learned quickly how wrong that assumption was. She didn’t believe most of the people who tried to sway her to their side; straightened her back and glared when they tried to trick her and often even stood between them and her companions.
Which meant, somehow, he’d earned her trust.
Ridiculously stupid as it was for her to trust him, he didn’t want to lose the privilege and so he left her book alone until the next time she spent too long staring over its top.
“I do hope you’re writing something fun in those pages,” he said. “If you let me read them, I’m sure we can make them happen.”
She laughed at the suggestion. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to draw you.”
He lowered his goblet a little in confusion, unsure how to respond to such a thing. “Draw me?”
“Well, you complained so much about not being able to see yourself in the mirror so I thought this would be the next best option. Come here and I’ll show you.”
She patted the spot on the ground beside her but Astarion didn’t move. Of all the things he’d expected from her, he hadn’t anticipated a recall of the strange conversation from before. Certainly not for her to have spent several days on such a thing.
“Come on,” she welcomed him. “I’m not horrible at art, I promise.”
He shook off the surprise and forced a laugh. “My apologies, I got distracted watching those adorable cheeks of yours flush. It’s absolutely delicious to see the way the sun burns your skin.”
“Oh, that wasn’t the sun,” she said. “If you’re talking about this.” She twisted a little so he could see a deeper red mark on her chest and where it curled over her shoulder. “You know the chest I kept fiddling with beneath the grove? Turns out it was trapped but don’t worry, Shadowheart promised it would fade with time.”
He honestly hadn’t been speaking of anything but he found himself annoyed at her for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “Well, I suppose that’s what you must deal with when you’re obsessed with looting everything we come across.”
“It’s profitable,” she teased. “Now do you want to see what I’m drawing or not?”
He took his time to saunter over and sink into a relaxed seat beside her. The sun had begun to set and its final rays danced over her skin as she shifted closer, leg brushing against his own as she turned the pages to him.
“It’s not perfect,” she warned. “You’re not an easy person to capture on the page but it’s something.”
True to her words, the book had been filled with sketches from the front to the back. Some crude and others detailed but every single one was of him. Close ups, full bodies, and even a few in action with daggers drawn. Had she truly drawn them from memory alone?
“I keep getting frustrated when they don’t come out right,” she said. She leaned back so she was lying against the grass, attention on the sky. “I’ve asked the others but they can’t tell what I’m doing wrong either. They’re just not right.”
He turned the pages slowly, not sure how he should respond to a gift like this.
Seeing his face showed truth to her words. He hadn’t changed awfully much in these years. The great care put into this though… she’d spent ages detailing his hair on others and even put dapples of sunlight over others from when they’d been travelling through the forest.
They didn’t have many hobbies to pass the time while travelling (not unless you counted Lae’zel who appeared to be collecting more and more heads as they continued on) but this must have taken so much of her waking hours.
The emotion that crept up his throat was unwelcome and difficult to recognise. It made his unbeating heart twist uncomfortably and he immediately snapped the book shut.
She nudged him to get his attention. “Well? What do you think? We can hire a professional when we reach a bigger city but it’s a temporary solution.”
He forced the smile and it felt wrong. “I doubt even a professional will capture me right. It’s as you said, difficult to capture perfection.”
She laughed. “I’ll try again tomorrow but with our plans, I think you’re going to be in a foul mood and I don’t want to draw you when you’re sulking.”
“Me? Sulk? I couldn’t possibly imagine why when you’re making me trudge through a swamp.”
She grinned and for a second, the briefest moment, he felt something tug on his chest when he looked at her. Fondness. His panic flared immediately and he turned his gaze away, uncomfortable suddenly with the attention she lavished upon him.
Curse her and her ridiculous book. Yet another strange aspect of her life – one that tempted him to flee in the middle of the night and never return to this group and their insistence on helping people.
But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up the safety provided by them yet.
“I’ll be happy to take this off your hands darling,” he said to her, holding up the book. “Keep it safe and make sure it doesn’t disappear in the night.”
“You will not. It’s mine until I get at least one drawing of you right and then you can have it.”
He leaned over her, placing one hand on the ground beside her hip. “Wouldn’t you rather the real thing? We can make some references for more enticing artwork in the future.”
She stared at him, briefly frozen as he drifted a faint touch over her thigh. The flare of lust in her eyes made him comfortable again. This was something he understood. An emotion he recognised. She still wanted him; she must if she spent all this time trying to draw him.
She moved closer and her breath brushed over his cheeks, her eyes locked on his.
He waited, about to close the gap, when she suddenly kissed him on the nose, grabbed the book from his hand, and rolled away with a laugh.
Astarion was left blinking as she tucked the book into her pouch.
“I’ll let you have it when I’m done but that does sound like fun. Unfortunately, this evening though, I managed to talk Wyll into giving me some dance lessons so I’m booked. You should join if you feel up to it.”
He huffed and tried not to let the strange jealousy return as she ducked away towards the others.
Taglist: @rosenightwings , @tragicdruid , @bloopthebat , @venus-wrts
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macfrog · 4 months
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wish you were here | one shot
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thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.
pairing: joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)
warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.
word count: 1.9k 
main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎
Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.  
A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.
The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.
Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.
We come to stuff.
When’s the last time you came to anythin’?
We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.
What – five months ago?
We like alone time.
Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.
Alone time – together.
Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.
He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.
It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.
‘s freezing, pretty bird.
Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.
You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?
His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.
You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.
Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.
You ask him softly, Will you play me something?
His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.
I’m serious.
What do you wanna hear?
That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.
Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.
You know the one.
I know the one.
Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?
Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.
Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.
And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.
You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.
Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.
There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.
Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.
The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.
Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.
He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.
And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.
He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.
Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.
Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.
He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.
 So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –
Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.
Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?
His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.
His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.
It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.
Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.
What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –
Wish you were here.
He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.
That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.
You nod. Only when you sing it.
I like the way we sound together.
You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.
His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.
I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.
You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.
Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.
You know, too. Mhm.
Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.
It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.
Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.
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psychedelic-ink · 4 months
Text
ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓
ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader
genre: angst, hurt comfort, minors dni
word count: 5k
summary: You, both a member of David's group and one of his former victims, are already contemplating escape when Ellie arrives at the resort. Seeking Ellie, you decide to take advantage of the unexpected opportunity to run. But before you can find Ellie, you cross paths with Joel instead.
warnings: age gap, virgin!reader, mentions of past grooming attempt, mentions of cannibalism, past rape attempt, PTSD, blood, canon typical violence, no smut for now, spoilers for s01 e08
a/n: this was previously named let me follow this is also new for me because I've never written virgin!reader before (mostly because i didn't have the best experience with that) but i felt like it was fitting with the story and where i wanna take it in the future.
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Revelation 13:3-4 "One of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole world was filled with wonder and followed the beast. People worshiped the dragon because he had given authority to the beast, and they also worshiped the beast and asked, 'Who is like the beast? Who can wage war against it?'"
The wind blows cold. You, a girl who has lost everything, sit on your knees on the ice. Your family has been long gone. Your hope dwindles, hanging only by a simple thread. You don't know how long you've been crying. Your hands, young yet covered in the warmth of blood. The scent of pine reaches your nose, and you sniff involuntarily, just like you did before you lost everything. Before the world ended. You hear the sound of men approaching you, and you wish they would just kill you. Sixteen and already you wish for the sweet mercy of death.
“Now what do we have here?” A man speaks, his tone is humorful. Melodic. Your mind and body already slipping and reaching towards the warmth of it. “You poor young thing. Where’s your family, girl?”
When you finally look up from your hands you see a man on a horse. Typical for this day and age. Near him hovers four others. All of them looking weathered and older than you. Your eyes move back to the one that seems in charge. He has strawberry blond hair and a thin beard of the same color. His eyes narrow slightly. They pop under the cold blue sky and the frozen lake. You don’t know what to say. How to answer this man who is an obvious threat. 
He hops off the horse, and you attempt to move away but your legs are frozen in place, your heart beating loudly against your ribcage. He kneels next to you. Observing. You swallow, fear coating your tongue with the taste of bile. His eyes soften when he takes in the sight of you. Bruised and wounded. Your eyes squeeze shut as he reaches out and pushes a loose strand of hair only for the wind to bring it back. 
“No need to be afraid, child. We’re a peaceful group and there are more like us if you want to join.” 
“J–Join?” your teeth chatter, your lips hurting as you speak. There’s a bit of light filling the cracks of the iron cage of your heart. Hope. You realize it to be. Hope that you found someone to help you. To look after you in this infected world. He must’ve seen it in your expression because his soft smile grows, eyes glimmering with mirth. 
“So afraid,” he hums. “But we’ll change that soon enough. You’ve been brought here for a reason. And I think I know what your purpose is in our small clan.” 
He swiftly stands, leaving you dumbfounded and still upon the freezing ice. Your mouth gapes, your body buzzing with a newfound need to stay alive. 
“What’s your name?” you ask. He throws an old coat over your shoulders. Not his own. But one he had extra on his horse. Probably taken from someone else who was more unfortunate than you. 
“David,” he answers gently, as if he’s scared you’ll run away. Before you reach out, he grabs your hand and lifts you. You nearly fall, only prevented thanks to the strong arm that wraps around your waist. He’s warm. Much warmer than you expected. “Lovely to have you with us.” 
The men near him don’t seem to share the same sentiment but you smile all the same. 
You don’t want to think for a while. Maybe not even for a millennia. If possible. 
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10 YEARS LATER
Whispers of death surround you. The names of the fallen circling you and squeezing your heart tight. Suffocated. That’s how you feel. Helpless. Trapped. Consumed. Faint murmurs fill the hall room. The cold that seeps through the wood, the same wood that was intended for summer and not winter, worries everyone, including you. But at the same time, you think this is what you all deserve. An icy grave. Freezing to death and surrendering to the cold. 
You were never meant to feel warmth. You know that better now. 
The chair creaks next to you and when your eyes shift to the side. You see James taking a seat. A sudden rage fills you. An indescribable rage. It disappears as soon as it appears like it always does. He turns to you and gives you a curt nod. You don’t nod back. He might think he’s looking after you but he’s not. All he’s done is turn the other cheek to a faith that is spewed by a liar. A deceiver. A disgusting man that makes your stomach turn—
The aforementioned man finally stands and clears his throat. Loudly. But not loud enough to overpower Hannah’s cries. She sniffles. Rubs her eyes roughly. Her mother wraps an arm around her and starts whispering words of comfort. You have no idea what that comfort would be since it was her father that had died. You remember the day you lost your parents. You felt utterly defeated at the time. Hopeless. Swallowed by darkness. Your eyes rubbed raw and stinging from crying and crying and crying—
David opens the bible and reads. His glasses are perched innocently above his nose. His voice, despite the rasp of time, still carries that melodic lilt. You don’t listen. Refuse to. 
“And I saw a new heaven and a new Earth. For the first heaven and the first Earth were passed away. . .”
You close your eyes with a stuttered breath. Your body is thrumming. Your legs shaking and heart pounding. These are the most painful times for you. The times where you have to listen to him and pretend to be moved by God’s will. You hate hearing his voice. The same voice that told you you were his. The same voice that commanded you to strip for him completely when it was only your arm that was wounded. 
Your pulse quickens. Your cheeks grow warm. 
You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. 
It happened years ago but it doesn’t matter. No matter the passage of time it still feels like it happened yesterday. His touch on your cheek. The way his blue eyes ate you up as he stalked around you, pretending to be worried while he was just taking in the sight of your body. A soft touch here and a soft touch there. Knuckles following the curve of your spine. Palms feeling the weight of your behind. The memory makes you sick. The way he was marinating you for something unspeakable. 
He enjoyed when you flinched. Enjoyed the way you whimpered and curled away. He laughed and did nothing else. He wrapped a bandage around your arm while you remained stark naked. Then he left. Leaving it to James to come to the room, telling you to get dressed while averting his eyes. 
You jerk, eyes going wide as a sharp cry echoes within the thin walls. 
“. . . And I heard a great voice out of heaven say, ‘Behold… the tabernacle of God is with men. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes—’”
He’s trying hard to ignore it. You can tell by the way his lips twitch ever so slightly, his nostrils flaring with annoyance when another cry is heard. 
He stops. 
And your heart stops along with it. 
You’re still afraid even when his anger isn’t directed at you. Cold beads of sweat make you feel clammy and gross. You want to hide. And even though you blame him, you want to move closer to James, hoping that whatever it is that’s going to happen, he can shield you from it. 
David turns his gaze towards Hannah and Joyce, Hannah’s mother, and lets out a sigh as if it pains him to see someone so distraught. 
“I’ve read this passage too many times,” He walks towards Hannah, his brows slightly furrowed and eyes full of rue. He places the book on the table and removes his glasses, placing it above it. You’re surprised when he kneels but your stomach twists as he places a hand above Hannah’s knee. She’s unaware, her bottom lip trembling. “Do you remember what comes next?”
She shakes her head. 
“‘And God will wipe away all tears from their eyes… ‘that there will be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither will there be any more pain… for the former things are passed away.’” 
Your eyes move to the crowd. Everyone holding on to one another, eyes red and wet. Hannah takes a sharp inhale, your gaze promptly landing back to the scene. 
“Do you know what that means?” She nods and when she does, David grips her shoulder. “Good.” 
He exchanges a glance with the mother and stands up, a groan dropping from his lips as he does so. You feel a momentary satisfaction at his discomfort. 
“When can we bury him?” 
The question surprises everyone, including David who doesn’t show it. The only oddity is him looking at James, a gaze so quick and short that if you hadn’t been sitting next to James you would’ve missed it. “The ground is too cold to dig. We’ll bury your father in the spring.”
Hannah seems content with the answer for now. The sermon is over when David opens the doors. His eyes linger on you as you get up, slow and groggy. Despite her recent loss, you find Hannah to be lucky. At least she had someone to protect her for a good while, her body free of being viewed as an object that belonged to someone else. 
You don’t look at either James or David as you leave. Not that it mattered. They were too busy talking amongst each other.  
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You wipe the snow that catches over your eyelashes with the back of a gloved hand. Everyone had a job to do and yours today was to chop wood in the freezing weather. You hate the feeling of shivering and sweating at the same time. It’s a disgusting feeling. But you were the youngest of the group—and had fallen out of favor with David, which meant that he didn’t try to get into your good graces by giving you the stay-by-the-fire duties. Not that you missed it. You’d rather freeze to death than give any part of yourself to him. 
Your feet drag over the snow. Your biceps ache with the added weight of the firewood within your arms. Breathing from your mouth, your eyes are drawn to one of the sheds. That place always gives you the creeps. It’s always locked. The windows dusty and blocked by cabinets from the inside so no one could see. You never thought of asking what the hell was in there, no one else did either. Everyone just wanted to survive. A herd of sheep following the blood-stained mouth of their leader. Not that they knew he had a blood-stained mouth. That information was only reserved for his victims and James. 
A log slips from the top and you loudly groan towards the sky. You need to leave this hell hole. You don’t know when. But you have to. 
Just as you lean down you sense someone coming towards you at full speed. Jumping, you move back only to see James huffing and puffing with a small package in his hand. You raise a brow. “Weren’t you supposed to be hunting?” you ask, picking up the log. “What the hell are you doing here running like a maniac? ‘Scared the shit out of me.” 
“David is at gunpoint.” Good. “And the crazy girl demanded some medicine. Hopefully, I can sneak up on her.” 
You scoff, “A girl? Since when does David follow any kind of demand?” 
“It’s complicated.” He looks uncomfortable, you must’ve struck a nerve with that. “She’s with the man that killed Alec.”
“You’re taking medicine to her? Actual medicine.” 
“David said. . .” 
You raise a hand and shoo him away, “Just go. I don’t care.” 
Watching him leave, your brows knit tightly together. This had to be a joke, they found the girl and by proxy, the man who killed Alec and. . . David is helping the girl? You don’t necessarily care for revenge— but the fact that he’s actively wanting to show just how kind he is to this girl is suspicion-worthy. He likes what he sees and pulls a curtain over his true colors to obtain it. You know word of this will come out soon. You’re positive that James told at least one person when he went in to get the medicine. It would spread like wildfire. 
And most of the people here, starving and cold with no warmth left in their chests are hungry for the heat of revenge. 
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Just like you had predicted rumors were spiraling. 
You’re sitting someplace unnoticeable and near the windows. Snow hits the glass like heavy rain. The clear panels freezing over, you visibly shudder. Your decades-old jacket isn’t enough anymore to keep you warm. 
Your head turns with another whisper coming nearby. Something about a girl being with the man who killed Alec. Your eyes shift to Hannah and her mother sitting in the middle, the young girl seemed furious, her eyes hardened but still carried a juvenile chubbiness in her cheeks. The look doesn’t suit her. It looks like a drop of blood on top of snow. No one is touching their food. Steaming bowls of meat sitting on top of weathered tables. You’re not hungry so you push it away. You’re hoping with every fiber in your body that they haven’t found the girl. You wouldn't wish David on even your worst enemy.
The doors open with a loud, bone-chilling creak. You jump at the sound. Soft flakes of snow hurry inside, melting as soon as the light touches them. James holds the door open for David and the latter, with great effort, drags a large stag inside. The entire room stops breathing, their eyes glued to the scene, their minds full of questions. 
The door closes. Suddenly you feel trapped and suffocated. 
“Big one,” David says, looking towards the tables with a crooked smile. Not even one person is talking now. Just deafening silence. James moves away quickly, his eyes find yours, and takes a seat next to you. You’re not sure why he hovers around you. Maybe in some sick way, he thinks you’re friends? 
David sighs loudly, bringing your attention back to him. “If you’ve heard a rumor… yes, we found a girl who was with the man who took Alec from us. When the sun rises, I’ll lead a group out to pick up her trail. Won’t be hard to find in the snow. We’ll follow it to wherever they’re hiding… and we’ll bring that man to justice.”
“You should kill him. You should kill both of them.”
David’s head snaps towards the vengeful voice. Your blood freezes, a tingle settling at the base of your neck, your skin grows taut over your muscles. You’re afraid. And your fear only grows when David stalks towards the girl, a faint smile on his lips, he removes his gloves. One by one. His movements slow, unrushed. He stands in front of Hannah, briefly stares down at her—
You flinch at the sound. The loudest smack and thud you’ve ever heard. Your eyes widen, heart beating in your throat as your eyes remain glued to Hannah who’s scrambling on the floor. David seems unbothered by it. Like he hadn’t just backhanded a young girl. The mom stands, murmurs getting louder, without thinking you attempt to get up too, thinking of all the ways you can kill the man. 
But James—fucking James—he stops you with a hand on your knee. You give him a disgusted look and he quickly pulls his hand away. But the damage was done. You settle back, the chair groaning underneath you. 
You watch as David halts the mother with a single hand, gently gesturing her to sit back down. She does—she does and it drives you insane. It’s surreal almost. There’s a loud hum in your ears as David kneels next to Hannah, her eyes looking anywhere but him. Scared, she takes David’s offered hand. You feel sick. Your stomach churns, bile rising to your throat. He helps her up and sits her down. He’s still on his knees, his eyes soft. 
Disgusting. 
“I know you think you don’t have a father anymore. But the truth is, Hannah, you will always have a father. And you will show him respect when he’s speaking.”
Tension rises with his words. You can tell from the brief glances that happen behind David’s back. However, it’s not enough. No one does anything. They just sit and wait as Hannah’s mother brings David a bowl of food. They begin to eat, the rest follows. 
Spoons clink. Wind blows. Birds caw.  
You look down at the meat, clutching the fork in your hand. You can’t. Something disturbs you. James also lingers before he takes the first bite. Something in his eyes makes you rather starve than taste. 
You look back at Hannah. Her bottom lip is trembling, her cheek red. 
She eats. 
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“Where is she?” 
David’s eyes glimmer with amusement, his teeth showing as he smiles. You’re out in the open. Snow falling all around you. Your chest squeezes. You can barely breathe, yet your chest continues to rise and fall. 
“Is my little lamb jealous?” Heat simmers under your skin. How fucking dare he? “Head back. This doesn’t concern you.” 
“Like hell, it doesn’t,” you snap. His eyes narrow and for a brief moment, your mind flashes images of him tying you to the bed whenever you swore. A nasty shiver crawls up your spine. “Let her go.” 
“And why would I do that?” he shakes his head. “Do you want to know why I never touched you again? I got bored. I knew I could have you whenever and wherever I wanted. The fire in your eyes died. You had no fight left in you.” he chuckles. You’re trembling now, your legs feeling weak underneath you. “And I enjoyed seeing the fear in your eyes whenever I entered the room. . . wondering. . . thinking about when I would finally make you my own.”  
You don’t know what to say. The snowfall picks up in pace. Hurling, dancing around you both. A sign of a storm. The cold kisses your cheeks. David grins and extends his arms towards the sky, you take a step back. 
“I finally found myself a pet that’s fun to play with. Someone that won’t be so easily broken.” 
Broken. Broken. Broken. 
That’s what you are, isn’t it? Broken. Alone. Unwanted. 
You have to get to the girl and get the hell out of here. 
You lift your chin, “You’re sick.” 
Bad move. His nostrils flare with anger as he grips your chin and forcefully brings you closer to his face. As someone who went on and on about you being too submissive for his liking, he sure as hell seems to hate that you’re defying him. 
“Don’t you dare talk back to me,” he spits, squeezing your jaw until your lips part with a whimper. “I'm the one who saved you and spared you. I’m a good man but never forget that you belong to me.” Without hesitation, he cups you between your legs. You stiffen at the touch, fear chills your skin, feeling little pins needling into your muscles. “You’re mine to break and when I do, you'll love it. And you'll finally be a woman.” 
He doesn’t linger. Leaving you, he disappears between the cabins. You collapse to the snow, shaking, trembling and tears flooding your eyes. You fist at the snow, your fingers becoming numb as it melts between your fingers. You were a fool to think that you were safe. You genuinely thought that after so long he’d let you do your own thing within the community. But no. He still had his eyes on the “prize”.
You want to run into the forest but you can’t. Your eyes fall to the ground where his footsteps are perfectly visible. Now you know where the girl is. 
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The door that is always locked is open. 
Your brows knit together as you observe the old wood swaying back and forth due to the wind. Your skin is icy cold. Coming closer you see that the lock had been broken, shattered. You see a spray of blood on the snow and that entices you to take a step forward into the dark cabin. You know you shouldn’t be taking any detours. Your backpack is secured tightly against your back filled with essentials and some sentimental items you gathered during the years. You should go. But you’re curious. You have to know what’s been in this shed for all these years. 
You sigh. Curiosity killed the cat. 
“But satisfaction brought it back,” you murmur. 
You pull out your gun, your finger on the trigger as you explore. It seems pretty standard. Some items, lots of dust—
Two large hands shove you roughly against the wall. You choke, all the air leaving your lungs as your gun is knocked out of your hand. Momentarily you’re pulled away and slammed back against the wall again, this time the back of your head thudding against the wood. You groan in pain. Your body screaming at you to run and hide. 
“Where is she?” you hear a man hiss through gritted teeth. “Where the fuck is she?” 
You’re slammed once more, tears prick the corner of your eyes and you barely manage to raise your hands. 
When you finally manage to open your eyes, panting heavily, you see a disheveled man. At first glance, he doesn’t make you feel that you’re in danger—which is an ironic feeling considering the throbbing at the back of your head is his doing. Lines run across his face, his eyes full of worry and anger. You immediately know who he is. There was only one girl after all. 
“You’re—” you swallow. “You’re him.” 
His hand tightens around your throat and a gun is hastily pressed against your forehead, “Tell me where she is or I’m shootin’ you.” 
“I’m actually trying to find her myself,” you answer, which by the looks of it was the wrong this to say. “I—I wanted to help her. Free her. David. . . the man that took her—he’s a monster.” 
His eyes narrow, “You from this community?” 
“He took me in when I was sixteen,” you explain. “I had no choice but to join.” 
“And why should I trust you?” 
“Because I know exactly where she is,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “And I know that you’re hurt. I can help.” 
“Then what?” 
You shake your head, not understanding. He clarifies. “You help me and then what? What’s the catch?” 
Your eyes blur with tears. You’re just so fucking tired. 
“I just want to leave.” 
Something about the way you whisper must’ve wake something in him because he lets you go. He lights the flashlight. “I ain’t in the business of takin’ in strays.” 
What? “What?” 
“Just leave. I don’t need your help.” 
“You—You don’t understand!” Just as he turns you jump towards him, fisting the back of his jacket, the fabric isn’t soft enough for you to get a good grip on him so you grab his shoulder instead. “He’s a monster! Everyone fucking underestimates him—he’ll—he’ll—!”
He stills. Rushed steps coming to a halt. You think he’s going to shove you off, push you away but he’s glued. With the fear of silence, you pull back and step to the side. He’s still not acknowledging you. His hard gaze glued to where the flashlight is illuminating. You follow the light speckled with dust. Horror curling in your stomach like a hook. 
There are three of them. Three bodies hanging like animals being prepared to cut into pieces. 
“Oh god—” 
You bring your hands to your head, your heart ramming into your chest, you shake your head. “No, no, no, no—” You take a step back. The man rips his gaze away from the bodies, away from what it implies. You take another step back and another. You’re shaking, your eyes glued to the floor. He—David—he fed you people. 
Fucking people. People that you knew.
Finally, the scent hits you. The smell of flesh and blood. 
You scream. 
The man is on you in an instant, you tumble to the ground and he goes down with you willingly. “Shit—no no no. Shut the hell up— shut the hell up.”
The knot that forms in your throat is large and uncomfortable. You bawl your eyes out, hiccuping against his chest. He takes you into his arms and you can’t be bothered to think of the why of his actions. His biceps tighten around you. You’re still shouting, still thrashing around, crying—he presses you further into his chest, muffling your sounds. You vaguely hear him shushing you, telling you it’s gonna be alright. Lies. He’s telling you lies. 
You start to quiet down and only then do you begin to make sense of his words. He’s murmuring bits of his life. Of what he’s seen. You finally learn the name of the girl: Ellie. The thick baritone of his voice is like a melody. It soothes you. Maybe not fully. But it helps calm your raging heart. You breathe. He smells like wood and snow. 
“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, pulling away. “Please let me help you.” 
“Yeah—Yeah, you can help.” He guides you to your feet in a way that your back is turned to the bodies. Just the thought of what's behind you makes your lungs cave in. 
“What’s your name?” you ask, desperate for any kind of distraction. 
“Joel.” 
“Alright, Joel,” you head towards the door. “Let’s go.” 
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She escaped. 
You can’t help but be impressed at the sight of an empty cell. But the pride for a girl you haven’t officially met dies in your throat when you see who’s against the wall, covered in blood. 
“You knew him?” Joel asks, his tone lacking any kind of grief. A question asked more so as a courtesy than actual worry. 
You stare at him. His blue eyes now lifeless, lips parted. It almost looks like he’s sitting, just taking a rest on the cold floor. It would be easy to make you believe that if it wasn’t for the cleaver sticking out of his neck. 
“No,” you answer dryly. Yet, you still walk to the dead man and gently close his eyes. You warned him this would happen. Joel doesn’t ask any more questions. He doesn’t have to. “We need to find her before David gets to her.” 
Joel immediately rushes out, you following him close by. You feel utterly useless. You have no idea where Ellie might’ve run off to. It doesn’t help that some part of your brain is still occupied with James. You hated him in a way but still, he was there. You’ve known him nearly your entire life. It felt off to be the one to close his eyes. 
The storm had stopped. The sun reflecting from the snow irritating your eyes. Joel seems to be getting irritated with every step. Desperate. 
He’s the one that sees her first. 
Ellie staggers out the large building currently being engulfed in flames. Her walk is uncoordinated, her steps uneven as she breathes in the icy air. Before you can warn Joel not to startle her, he’s already running, grabbing her by the shoulders. Your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces when you hear her screams and shouts. 
“It’s me,” Joel says, cradling her face with both hands. She hits his chest with sideway fists, he holds her more firmly. “It’s me.” 
You see it in her face, the exact moment she realizes. You see blood splattered across her face, her expression hurts you. It’s the same expression you’ve seen on yourself for years. 
“Hey… look. It’s me… It’s me. It’s okay.”
She mumbles, “He—” Before Ellie can complete the sentence she wraps her thin arms around Joel, the man hugs her tight. Your heart shatters then. The damns you were so adamant on keeping locked being teared down by people you barely know. 
You cry. Salty tears just bursting out of your eyes. There’s no slow build, no single tear and then the rest. It just all comes down flooding. Your shoulders sag, your fingertips numb. 
“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”
You sniff and look up to the sky. Fuck. It’s so hard to stop when it begins. You see grey smoke rising into the crisp air. He’s dead. You don’t need to see the body to know that he is. 
Your eyes drop to the two survivors embracing infront of you. That girl saved your life while you were trying to save hers. You were too late. Both of you were. She looked the beast in the eye and slayed it. Freeing you. 
They part and Joel quickly wraps his jacket around her tiny trembling shoulders. You’re empty. What now? That was his question. You don’t know. Do you go back? Do you explain to the people who David manipulated just how horrendous he really was? Would they believe you? 
Your eyes are drawn to a flicker of movement. Joel is looking straight at you. Ellie still unaware of your presence and you can’t blame her. 
You’re lost. 
But then his eyes soften with something akin to understanding and he gestures you to follow. 
Like a lamb to a stream, you do. 
911 notes · View notes
dtrghost · 10 months
Text
closeness and proximity
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Side note: This is my first ever tumblr fic, so uh, be gentle!! moving on!
pairing: ghost x f!reader
synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.
warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, violence, angst, descriptions of interrogation and torture, INTENSE gore (imo), cursing, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. If you have a weak stomach or faint heart, please do not read this, like please.
I'd also like to start this off by saying that the mc is not a good person, and that is on purpose. I've seen a lot of the angel fics where ghost falls for his antithesis, so I decided to try something new. So here, please forgive any mistakes.
if this does become a series there will most likely be smut because,,, yes.
(update it's becoming a series so if someone wants to be tagged for that lmk cause i have so many ideas for this)
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Word count: 3.4k
"Sunshine how copy?" Ghost's gruff, static filled voice called through coms, scope checking the parameters of the building she found herself held up in. She didn't respond at first, busy fighting for her life in a basement underneath the building they weren't aware of.
The deeper she went the harder it was to understand what was being relayed to her, so she settled on doing it on her own. He listened to a man grunt, their body dropping to the floor under her boot as she took a deep breath.
"There's a basement underground, coms are cutting out. I'm taking charge on clearing the basement. I'll report when I get to the surface. Sunshine out." She loathed her callsign with a passion. To speak it caused a burning hatred to spark in the lowest depths of her heart and made her cringe horribly. However, she knew it was better than letting everyone know her real name, so she dealt with it.
Ghost sighed, knowing she couldn't be stopped once she started. She had been on a few missions together in the past few years, he knew she was uptight and lacked the emotional capacity to make friends with others. It made him wonder why, what could've been that bad to freeze her heart over and shrink it to the size of the pebble he was crushing under his foot as he shifted uncomfortably. People would try and try to thaw her out, yet always failed.
He waited, taking out strays that attempted to heed the possible rescue requests that came from that basement, and patiently waited.
"This is Sunshine, basement cleared. Might wanna come take a look at this." His eyebrows furrowed, affirming the request and making his way down quickly, not wanting to stay in the open for too long. He made his way to the basement, eyes widening at the various bodies that trailed to wherever she was down there.
Had she done this all by herself?
He followed the bodies all the way to her, lights flickering, casting a bland white light on the concrete walls. seeing her digging through an opened trunk in a room filled with them.
"Weapons. American." Sunshine reported, glancing at him as he took his place next to her, seeing the American flag painted onto the inside of the lid. She turned at the sound of a groan, a soldier she left alive rousing to consciousness.
"Fuckin' hell. This mission was to take out ultranationalists." Ghost sighed. She didn't respond, the task force member watching her turn on her heel and grab the soldier by vest, throwing him against the wall with impressive strength. Blood flowed out of the back of his head, smearing against the wall as he slowly slid to the floor. He had never seen her in interrogation, but he had heard from those who have.
Brutal, heartless, some had to exit the room.
He wouldn't. He's witnessed plenty of torture tactics, even had to rely on some himself to get information necessary for national security. But this is another reason why they called her 'Sunshine', because to others she didn't feel remorse for what she did, some said she enjoyed it even, that her eyes brightened like the sun peaking over the horizon. Whether that was true or not he'd figure out now, as eager as he was. He watched her take out her knife, flipping it in her hand as she crouched to the soldier's level.
"Where'd they come from." She asked simply, keeping an even tone that surprised Ghost. He expected something more fierce, intimidating, but it was as if she was starting a conversation with a normal person. The victim attempted to spit in her face, but with a quick turn on the head it landed on the floor behind her. Her knife dug itself into his foot, his cries of pain echoing in the basement as she twisted it. The sounds of his bones cracking made Ghost shiver.
"Where'd they come from. Who sold them to you." She persisted, her face void of all emotion as she ripped the blade out of his foot. She sighed, turning to ghost who stood in the back, surveying the action. His eyebrows furrowed as she pointed to the door with her knife.
"Wait outside. This might take awhile." At first he didn't move, but the hint of impatience in her eyes spooked him out, for reasons unknown to him, but instinct told him to listen. So he slowly retreated and stood watch outside for anyone either getting up or rushing down the stairs. Y/N turned back to her victim, seeing two loops with chains hanging off of them imbedded into the wall. She tied his arms up, leaving his body sagging down.
Ghost listened to her repeat her questions, and when she didn't get an answer, a shout would follow. But those shouts turned to ear-piercing screams very quickly. He listened to pleads and begs of mercy to understand him, that he couldn't say anything out fear to what they'd do to him.
"Imagine what I'll do next if I don't get the response I want." She'd respond.
The bones cracking, the retch of vomiting, blood splattering onto the cold concrete.
"If you think you can outlast me, that I'll get tired of this and stop for the night to let you regain some of your humanity, you're wrong. Because unfortunately for you sweetheart." The blade tore through his skin, another bellow of pain emerging from his throat as he squirmed in his place. They were both coated in blood, her eyes dull and her ears tuning out the noise. To her, it was as if he was silent, his screams didn't penetrate through to her, and talked and talked until it drove him mad.
"I don't have all night, and I'm getting impatient. You won't die, I wouldn't allow that. I went through med school, graduated top of my class with a doctorate in Neuroscience. I know how to break." Which was evident as his leg was broken and facing different directions from the knee down to his toes.
"And I know how to fix. I'll keep you alive a lot longer than the night, and I'll do a lot worse. So if you want this to end, start talking, or you're in for a long week." Simon wondered what she was doing. His mind went over the possibilities until her victim finally cracked after the final scream he unleashed into the empty basement. He detailed a secret arms trade between an ally of the United States' and another country, which would lead to the likeliness of intentions for them.
War.
Y/N huffed, ripping off a piece of the soldiers shirt that wasn't soaked in sweat, blood, or vomit, which was a very small one, and wiping her hands clean as best as she could.
"Could've said that 10 minutes ago. Now, you'll bleed out within the next 5. Shame." Ghost listened to his anguished sobs as footsteps approached him, turning around from the entrance to see her, covered in blood. His eyes widened slightly, noticing a piece of...
Her eyes followed his to her vest, noticing a very small piece of flesh sitting between her shirt and gear before flicking it off to the side.
"Hopefully he didn't have HIV." She joked, but there was no humor in her voice, no sign of her finding it funny at all, as if she said it to just say it. Ghost didn't respond, he wasn't sure how. He slowly moved to look inside the room, the curiosity of what she did to the soldier eating him alive, until she grabbed his roughly.
"Don't." The word sent shivers down his spine, and he knew better than the disobey as she had operational command authority, and would likely court martial him if he had. So he took a step back and maintained eye contact, radioing in to Price.
"Captain, this is Ghost. How copy." He called, his gruff voice bringing a smile to her lips that he couldn't see due to her mask which was just a boring black one, decorated with blotches of drying blood that lightened up enough to see. "This is Price."
"We found weapons and gear, they're American." He went onto explain the situation, being weary of his mission leader walking around him in circles, waiting impatiently as he reported their findings.
"Copy that. I'll transfer this to Lanswell. Good work, report back to base for debrief."
"Copy, Ghost out." He connected his radio back to his vest. She took out her pistol, leading him to pull out his own. The behavior she exhibited was one he hadn't seen often, and it led to a deep mistrust he couldn't shake. She smirked, turning around, walking back in the room, and confirming her kill with a bullet between the eyes before reappearing in front of him.
He looked at her suspiciously as she gestured to the stairs, wondering who trained her, who made her into what she is now. She wasn't normal, not like the rest of them, she had no signs of remorse, care, or empathy for the people she killed, and she killed them with ease. Over 30 soldiers in one cramped basement and she came out unscathed, in tip top shape. He followed her out and made it to the landing zone where a helicopter came to pick them up.
She was silent the whole way back, Price being there to greet the two before they sat through debrief.
"Sunshine, we have orders from headquarters to have you join Task Force 141. Ghost is to watch over you. An official introduction will be made tomorrow." Price announced, not missing the tightened grip of Ghost's fist on the table.
"Copy that captain." She responded in her usual tone, only fueling Ghost's anger as he turned to glare at her, though she only ignored him, keeping her gaze unwavering on Price.
"Hit the showers soldier." Price dismissed, Y/N being the first to leave. But before she did, she turned to look down at her new partner.
"Happy to be on the team, Mr. Riley." It took his everything to not jump to his feet and knock her out, holding his breath to calm himself down as she walked away, the door shutting behind her. He hated that she had power over him, and worse that she rubbed it in his face.
"There's no chance in hell I'll stand for her being on my team." He immediately threw at him, standing up in his seat with his finger pressing firmly on the table in front of him.
"First, it's my team. Second, It's not my choice, orders are orders." Ghost growled lowly, clearly upset over the lack of fighting to keep her off, to keep her away to those he held near and dear to his heart, even if that wasn't too close to begin with. He saw her as a danger, an immediate threat, someone who belonged in an institution before they saw the battlefield.
"Then send an appeal. She's a war criminal. Tell em that!" He snapped.
"Bloody hell we're all war criminals. Then we'll be stuck in prison with her and you'll complain some more." Price groaned, rubbing his forehead, clearly irritated by his soldier's insistence.
"Not like that. Not how she is. She'll kill one of us before we get the next mission, hell she parade around our bodies like a joker and hail-" Price's hand slammed on the table, cutting his lieutenant off.
"Quiet." Ghost went silent, sighing deeply as he waited for Price to gather the right words, to somehow ease his mistrust in her, though he doubted she could do that. He watched as he shut the door and locked it, keeping his voice hushed, standing closer to his comrade.
"This is classified information, what I say stays in this room and is to never be discussed with anyone else. Is that understood lieutenant." Ghost's eyes widened for a moment before nodding in affirmation, waiting for his captain to continue.
"She- she wasn't brought up normally. As a great many soldiers weren't, hence why many of them join the ranks in the first place. She was a prodigy, she became a seal at 17, and on her second mission she was set up, deserted, and kidnapped. Nobody knows what happened to her in there, a search team was sent out, but she wasn't found til a few months later, and when she came out after she was different."
She was a child.
That's all Ghost could thing about. God knows what happened to her in there, and he didn't want to think about it.
"She exhibited sociopathic tendencies, she was closed off, didn't speak for a very long time. She failed psychological evaluation requirements, depression, ptsd, ecetera. Even then they sent her back out on missions a couple months later." Simon's eyes blew open, Price nodding glumly.
"Missions? Fuckin' hell, she needs help not special ops." He sneered, not at Price, but his anger was seeping through at rates he couldn't control. He was angry, how could they do that to someone? Did they not care, not even a little bit for her life? Her wellbeing?
"I know. But they're not taking her out any time soon, and now that she's on our team the least we can do is try to help her. I knew her before she became this. She was a kind soul." His voice dropped to a whisper, as if reminiscing, and he was. Her bright eyes, so full of potential when they met for her first mission, how she wheezed when she laughed. She was a kid, and it hurt his heart thinking about what she turned into over the last 6 years. Ghost nodded, silently agreeing to his motives before Price simply waved him off.
Simon hit the showers, scrubbing off the dirt and gunpowder that clung to his skin, watching the water turn black as the face paint drizzled down into it. The captain's words ran through his head over and over, the words going in one ear, through his brain, and out the other in a constant circle. He knew firsthand how corrupt his line of work could be, but that didn't make him any less angry when it revealed itself to him in the ways it did.
When he exited, fully dried and clothed with his mask back on, he passed by Y/N's room, noticing the light peaking out from underneath the door. He sighed quietly, his hand coming up and knocking on the door.
"It's open." Her cold voice responded, though it sounded more distant than before. He twisted the knob and let the door open, seeing her laying on her cot in deep thought. He went to question her, until he realized that she probably listened in on their conversation.
"You were listening." She nodded once, curtly and formally before sitting up and turning to look at him. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, analyzing every aspect about him. He felt like he was being stripped naked just by her look, his soul bare for her to look into.
Her eyes drifted over his exposed arms, the sleeveless tank he wore leaving them on display. He was a big guy, his arms were veined and muscled, tattoos filling up a majority of the space, combined with scars that passed through some of them. The top he wore was a bit tight, outline his chest in an attractive way, but she forced her eyes away, knowing he already caught onto what she was staring at.
"Price is right. I wasn't always like this. And I think he was the only one to notice, or at least point it out." She began, drawing attention away from the fact she just checked him out shamelessly.
"Wasn't right, what happened to you." He replied stiffly. She snickered, standing up. He watched her pace the room, twisting a knife in her hands, causing him to tense. She noticed.
"I'm not going to stab you lieutenant." She reassured, though it didn't help at all as she went on. She wasn't sure what she felt, confused for sure, as to why she was unable to emotionally process her emotions or evaluate the information she heard, as if her mind was barring her from contextualizing her state of mind. She knew she wasn't normal, but she couldn't bring herself to accept it and label herself.
"I was 17 when I was taken, you know that. Had a rough upbringing, I won't explain that to you now." She wasn't sure where she was going with this, and neither was he, but he'd listen for a bit to try and understand her more, maybe to trust her more now that she was his teammate. "I can feel emotion you know. Only to a certain degree, I can empathize. Fleeting, but it's there sometimes. I do feel some remorse, but you know how we are in this field. Weakness will get you killed, so you internalize it, you keep it buried underneath everything else, and because my everything else was stripped away with me, it just sits in here." She tapped her temple and shrugged. He understood what she meant, he did that too. He withheld his shame, his guilt, and his remorse, remaining a stone cold figure in the field. He saved the emotional crap for his time alone where he could deal with it in the way he knew how.
"You just let it sit there then?" He pressed, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded.
"Don't know what to do with it. Lost my sense of self and all I know is this job. I do try though, I try to force some tears like I've seen others do, but the only time these.. feelings present themselves is on my missions, which is why everyone thinks I enjoy it. But I don't, for the record, I just can't control it like you guys do. And I envy you for that." His eyes widened slightly.
"Envy, huh."
"Mhm. You can talk to each other, find common ground and relate, make friends and connections. I can't because I don't feel like you guys do. And then you demonize me and outcast me more than I already am, so. Oops." He thought she was getting upset, but she wasn't, there was not a hint of anger or sadness or negative emotion in her person whatsoever, none that he could see anyway. Her arms were loose and carefree as she swung them around every time she turned her heel to pace back in the direction she just walked in.
"We can help you." Her first sign of feeling was an eye roll with a steady irritated gaze. But she didn't say anything. The idea of needing help repulsed her beyond anything else, made her want to punch a wall and scream, her eyes widened. Anger. There it is, outside of a mission too. She hummed, looking back at him.
"Alright Casper." He grunted, displeased by the new nickname which made her smile widen cheekily. She searched his eyes for a moment, finding entertainment in the small flames in his amber eyes, how they flickered and danced when he found something humorous, how they died out when he found something unamusing or boring, how they raged when he grew angry or determined to finish something with a newfound passion.
She liked to think he had that burn in his eyes when Price spoke to him about the notion of helping her, hoping that he'd care that much even if she didn't want the help, or perhaps she did, that would explain the want would it not? That was a thought for later. For now she'd do her job the way she knew how, she wouldn't change, not yet, not that she knew how anyway.
"We're going out for a drink tomorrow night, care to tag along." He offered, jousting his chin up at her in a heads up manner.
"I don't drink." She replied, monotone as she laid down on her cot, shutting her eyes with a sigh. He watched her body sink into the bed, all stress and tension releasing, and he took that as his dismissal. He shut the door behind him, releasing a breath and walking back to his room, confused and tired where he slept on the day's events.
Though he was curious on how tomorrow would turn out.
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And that's it! If you want a series out of this let me know!! It's my first fic and I'll probably binge a bunch because I feel like writing. I'm still trying to figure out the whole border thing I wanna make everything aesthetic or whatever but yeah.
See you guys next time!!
1K notes · View notes
medium-rare-bimbo · 8 months
Text
EDDIE AND HIS CRYPTID GIRLFRIEND
♡Masterlist♡
MINORS DNI
contain: dubcon, somnophilia, drugging(?)
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༺*:゚・✧・:*:゚・♡ readmore ♡・゚:*:・✧・゚:*༻
♡ thinking of eddie x cryptid!(?) Reader who is so curious about human norms and stands outside his trailer every night making strange noises and moving things around. He tries to understand you and talk to you maybe even help you but you freeze and runaway :((( he soon starts sitting outside his trailer waiting for you to come back, you stand near the tree line watching him holding eye contact and barely blinking, You look human but the way you act tells him that theres something off about you maybe you're not all mentally there? Each night you get closer to him and eddie starts leaving food a couple of feet infront of him hoping you get close enough so he can ask you something. When you're close enough to the plate you crouch down keeping your eyes on him as you bring the food to your mouth, you're almost animal like. Once eddie sees that you respond well to the food he brings the plate closer to him until you're sitting next to him and hes having an entire one sided conversations with you. He somehow gets you to come inside the trailer and in his room where you're immediately interested in the lamps and strange sticky magazines. He offers the shower to you after he notices your dirt covered feet but you stare blankly at him and he soon realises that he needs to bathe you himself if he wants you clean. It was no easy task however, you were more interested in dragging him into the shower with you than actually getting clean, by the end Eddie was naked and his clothes were soaked and thrown on the floor but you were clean so his job was done. He proceeded to keep you locked in his room and occasionally let you wonder around the trailer park but ONLY at night you've already gave poor old lady edith a heart attack when she caught you staring at her through her windows </3</3  as much as eddie tries to train you to behave you refuse >:(( you were born to make nests in his bed, stare into nothing and freak him out, watch him sleep, kneed his pillow, it's in your DNA how dare he deny you of your instincts >:000 idk I just think they'd be a neat couple <3 breeding kink is through the roof though jesus
♡ (vampire eddie!) OR they meet in the upside down and you're just standing over his barley alive body, his eyes struggling to adjust to the world around and he honestly thinks you're a hallucination
♡ you like standing over him while he sleeps, watching his chest rise and fall, his eyes flickering across his eyelids, the sleep filled murmurs he speaks and the tics of his body. You have been hit multiple times from eddie suddenly waking up. you stare, he wakes, you stare, he screams, you stare, he attacks, you stare.
♡ your pupils are very unsettling, too big or too small theres never an in between. Never.
♡ you bite everything like literally EVERYTHING. Never in his life would eddie think hed have to hide batteries and no he doesnt care if they make your brain fizzy you cant have them >:((
♡ you steal every piece of fabric in the house, blankets, towels, shirts, pants, socks you name it, it's in your 'nest'
♡ you like places you shouldnt be especially small dark places with closed spaces and little room to breathe aka Eddie's closet. It smells like him, it's dark, its warm, what more could you want?
♡ if eddie is eating food you MUST try some, you sit there staring until he gives you a tiny piece. You never ask for more unless he offers preferring to walk off and see if the light stays on when the fridge closes
♡ eddie loves watching you exist, you're a simple creature just living life except you have zero brain cells and you scare everyone. Wow what a shocker that children would be scared of a non blinking creature standing at the edge of the forest
♡ you've followed eddie to school multiple times and only on a few occasions has he caught you although you prefer the night youd do anything to look at your eddie.
♡ there have been many times that eddie has suspected you're just a possessed girl whose going to eat him one day (yeah eat that dick)
Maybe youre severely mentally unwell? hes not sure, your movements are conspicuous and unnatural as if you're not sure how to be human, as if you're body isnt your own yet you act too contemplated for him to draw a direct conclusion. Every movement that comes from your body is planned out, that slow stumble over to the eddie while his back was turned? You were stalking him youre prey. the small cries that left you throat when you both went on a date? You were calling a stag over for a meal disgusing yourself as a baby doe In need of help (eddie quickly shot the idea down)
♡ if any of the gang meet you they 100% think you're from the upside down, and they're right. Nancy has tried to shoot you 17 times <3 only missing 4 times <3 s'okay though you're built different
♡ she meant to shoot you the first 12 times the others were accidents, you kept breaking into her house and staring at her (you also stole some of her things because you thought they looked nice, where those items are now will forever be a mystery) you wanted to know how to be a normal human girl and robin isnt the best at being girly so you had no one else to turn to :(( she gave you a dress that you have never wore, nancy will never forgive you for tormenting her
♡ like to think Steve pushes your head away when you stare at him for too long, an awkward hand to the side of your creepy face your eyes never moving from his. He hates it. Hes also poked you with his bat multiple times when he found you lying on the floor seemingly dead. You dont let him have anything nice, hes drinking out of a coke can? Boom on the floor where it belongs. Pick it up bitch boy
♡ you like hearing what robin says about obscure topics, you pick up items and look at her until she tells you the entire history of how it's made and what it does. She rants to you about her life as she realises that you couldnt care less about anything that goes on in human society, you dont understand why same gender couples 'shouldn't' be together nor do you understand why high school roles exist. Why should you care about a cheerleader? What the hell is a cheerleader? Have you ever met a cheerleader? Whose a cheerleader? What is band practice? Why is she telling you this? Is this what humans go through when they reach as certain age? Turn into basketballs? Are basketballs a type of human?
♡ you think the kids smell weird and refuse to go near them, you stand awkwardly in the corner until eddie leaves then you follow or they blink and you're gone.
♡ Dustin has tried to get close to you but you deny him the attempt. Many many many times has he tried to lure you into a trap with food (just like eddie had) yet you dont even care for the food to busy looking at him in disgust to care
♡ children stinky
♡ Will thinks you're sent to bring him back to the upside down but the truth is you simply couldnt care less, who is vecna? What is a demodog? Demogorgan? Who are these people?
♡ water is your enemy, juice however? Love it! Magical flavourful liquid is amazing, water is plain and boring would you drink it out in the wild? Absolutely but now that eddie has showed you the wonders of squash life has changed
♡ if eddie isnt showering with you then you're not having a shower. You refuse and pull him in with you because how else are you supposed to smell like eddie? Does he expect you to smell like yourself? Not happening >:(((
♡ you've drank his bath water
♡ it was traumatizing for him please never do it again
♡ holding hands <3<3
♡ it's not because he loves you so much it's because you cant be trusted
♡ he doesn't like your shape teeth please remove them from his leg and back away
VAMPIRE! eddie
♡ he spits on you because he hates you (he is actually devoted to you and only spits on you because it makes you smell like him)
♡ he doesnt like the way you look at him
♡ you compare teeth together<3<3
♡ you're always throwing him in your "nest" because hes cold, he doesnt have the heart to tell you that hes naturally cold
♡ even as a vampire you still scare the shit out if him, where do you come from? How did you get there? He turned around and you were practically in his skin. Back up
♡♡♡NSFW♡♡♡
♡ breeding kink ™️
♡ eddie is your mate and your mate only!! whoever this "fleshlight" is needs to back off >:000 you're the only thing that deserves to have his cum
♡ you like his cock!!! You love how its tastes and how it twitches in your mouth, you love how his precum coats your tongue, you love the way your jaw aches from how wide you have to open your mouth <3<3<3<3 you like when hes soft too, you like playing with his foreskin and kissing his tip when it peaks out or just watching it become hard <3
♡ your obsessed with making out with him!!! Even more obsessed with receiving/giving hickeys!!!! Marks are everything to you, it's how you show the world you have a mate although eddie did have to vigorously explain that he cant walk around with a dark people neck (he has thighs so it's okay)
♡ if eddie has his attention on anything other than you it's like a wet dream for him. One second he was toning his guitar next thing he knows you're presenting to him like a cat, naked, bent over, holes visible to him and him only. The first few times this happened he thought he was dreaming
♡ you refuse to wear pants, the most he can get you in is shorts and even then you only wear them when Wayne is home. You're usually wearing his shirt and panties or just his shirt, he takes advantage of the times you decide that panties are awful
♡ eddie has been woken up to you sucking/bouncing on his cock many times. hes in a good mood for the rest of the day
♡ he spanked you once without thinking, you had just finished rooting in the cupboards looking for your fav carton of fruit juice when he reached above you for a mug, you walked off and he unconsciously slapped your ass. You've never been the same since, whenever you feel the urge to get your ass smacked you wonder over to eddie and place his hand on your ass and no you dont care that he has people over
♡ you ate some of his edibles (it was multiple times) you got so horny that you rode eddie until he passed out, when he woke up you were still going at it. He walked funny for a week or two, each swing of his legs jostling his sensitive cock however he would 100% do it again
♡ eddie fingers you while he does basic tasks, brushing his teeth? Hes shirtless with messy hair, a toothbrush in his mouth as your bent over the bathroom sink stuffed with his fingers. No attention is directed to you, too occupied with getting ready for him to care about how your fucking yourself back on his fingers.
♡ you have stuffed several rings of Eddie's inside you why? Because love <3 you only do it so he has to fish them out of you
"Y/N where are my rings?"
"I think you know"
♡ eddie had to buy you a couple of sex toys because as much as he loves to be inside you his dick needs a break. You currently have a small collection of a 2 dildos, a vibrator, a bullet vibrator, 2 plugs (one for each hole) and a bottle of lube that rarely gets used. On several occasions he has found you double stuffed and passed out. he doesnt take your toys out simply lays down next to you and falls asleep
♡ blood <3 you love his !! Very tasty and yummy would eat again.
♡ you sat on his face once and almost drowned him, you were in and out of consciousness after your orgasm shook you. Eddie has oral skills <3
♡ predator + prey kink? YES, you dont care whose the prey or whose the predator as long as you're being stuffed. Something about chasing for your prize /being chased gets you going
♡ eddie let's you hump his leg while he writes up a new campaign
♡ He likes pinching your tongue and watching your salvia drip down his fingers
♡ he got you a collar and leash <3
VAMPIRE! Eddie
♡ he bit you and you came
♡ you both share a primal kink
♡ you thought your breeding kink was bad before its even worse now.
♡ he has shoves you against trees and fucks you until you cry, theres a lot of snarling and growling involved
♡ definitely scents you after he feeds
836 notes · View notes
celtic-crossbow · 3 months
Text
Let Your Heart Be Light
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Setting: Alexandria Era
Warnings: None
Summary: You want to make the holidays something special for Daryl. Throw in a little Christmas magic and it just might mean something more to you too.
©celtic-crossbow 2023. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.
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This run hadn’t been about gathering supplies or intel. This run had been about making a holiday for Judith. The adults understood that just being alive and together were gifts. But little Jude? Smart as she was— and she was smart —hadn’t yet grasped that concept. 
Things had already been gathered for her by everyone else, but Daryl had never really celebrated as a kid. Never gave gifts or received them. Before Alexandria, there was never a reasonable sense of safety that allowed for celebration. This would be a first for the archer. When you asked what he had found or made for the little girl he so obviously adored, he had appeared gutted. Of course, you had offered to go with him and help him find something. 
The sky was thick with purple clouds as you burrowed into Daryl’s back and tilted your face upward just enough to watch the puffs of lavender magic float carelessly across the limitless expanse. The wind was icy but the elements never seemed to bother the hunter. You, on the other hand, were freezing your proverbial balls off. Your heavy jacket, gloves, scarf, and toboggan hat did little against the onslaught. You couldn’t help but wonder how Daryl hadn’t turned into an ice archer. You also weren’t above pondering why the fuck he had insisted on taking the motorcycle!
When the bike rolled to a stop outside a little strip mall, you could hardly wait to jump off. You squealed about your ass being numb and zipped past him and up to the first door. Daryl started to intervene but swiftly shut his mouth when you acted accordingly, tapping the blade of your knife against the window to lure any walkers. 
When none shuffled forward, you gave him a thumbs up. “You start on that side, I’ll go here. Look for coloring books, crayons, stuffed animals. Nothing with small pieces that she could choke on.” You advised, watching him nod blankly. You smiled at his adorable cluelessness and ducked inside, willingly leaving him on his own. Usually you would pester him to stay together but you had your own search to conduct. Judith wasn’t the only one getting a gift this year. 
You did intend to help Daryl as you’d promised, but you had some selfish reasons for coming along as well. You hadn’t heard if anyone else had come up with something for the archer, but you sure as shit would. He was your best friend. Your person. This would be the start of happy memories for the season.
None of you could be sure when Christmas actually was but hell, it didn’t really matter at the end of the world. Decorations had been found here and there, enough to decorate Rick and Michonne’s house. You’d all gather there so it made the most sense. 
The store you had chosen appeared to have once been a pawn shop. Toys were in abundance so you took a moment to grab a babydoll and a stuffed monkey before heading to the display cases. The glass had long ago been broken and weapons all swiped. That wasn’t what you were looking for anyway. You wanted something less…violence oriented. No jewelry either. He wasn’t the type. You would know the perfect gift when you saw it. 
And you did. 
Grabbing it up, you stuffed it and the toys into your rucksack and headed to the next mall space, hoping it held what you needed to go along with the first present. Considering how certain items were treated like gold in those times, you didn’t hold your breath. 
You had to be sneaky or Daryl might catch on, considering the type of store. You watched for him while repeating the process to check for walkers. Met with silence, you ducked inside. Pickings were slim— almost nonexistent —just as you’d expected. You had just allowed yourself to be bummed when you spotted one peeking out from beneath the counter. After a short happy dance, you hid this one in your bag as well.  You grabbed a few newspaper pages to use as wrapping paper and started to open the door when you saw the archer walk by and into the pawn shop you had just vacated. 
Perfect!
Stepping outside, you moved off the walkway and waited for him. He emerged a moment later, looking a little concerned. 
“Thought ya’d still be in there.” He huffed, holding out two coloring books— one of safari animals and the other, Dora the Explorer  —and a box of crayons with two missing. 
“Were you worried, mister Dixon?” You smiled sweetly while taking the items to place in your bag. “Hey!” You dissolved into giggles when he pulled the front of your toboggan hat down over your face. He was already walking back toward the back by the time you fixed it. “I found a couple of toys too!”
“Got wha’ we came fer.” He swung a leg over to straddle the bike and waited for you to climb on. “Le’s head back. Snow’s comin’.” You grumbled and secured your scarf around the majority of your face. “S’the matter? Don’ like snow?”
“I love snow. Just not on a motorcycle.”  Taking your place behind him, you wrapped your arms around his middle and went ahead with burying your face in his back. You felt more than heard his chuckling. 
Without a way to predict the weather, there was no way of knowing that scattered flurries would soon turn into a complete whiteout. Daryl had pushed the bike as far as he could before the snow on the ground became too dense. You hated watching him leave it behind, but if he was distraught, he didn’t show it. 
You both had your packs, yours full of gifts and Daryl’s stuffed with a little food, a canteen, and scant medical supplies. You’d be okay for a day or two until the weather cleared. You had radioed home while the archer brought the fireplace to life. Your signal was choppy but the message was received. 
A little while later, the snow was surging down outside, making it impossible to see even the trees that were littered around the small cabin the two of you had stumbled upon. Literally. You’d almost walked into the side of it with the limited visibility. 
Your coats were hanging up near the fire to dry. You had a small meal of jerky and an apple. Now the two of you sat quietly, the silence not uncomfortable. You were bummed that you couldn’t make it back for Daryl to give Judith the gifts. More disappointed for him, really. This was supposed to give him good memories. 
Your gaze left the winter wonderland on steroids to shift over where the archer was perched by the fire. He was holding the stuffed monkey while he stared into the flames. Standing from the chair by the frosty window, your bare feet hardly made a sound as you padded across the room to sit cross-legged by his knees. 
“Don’t be sad.” You folded your hands on his thigh and rested your chin on them, looking up at him from under your lashes. 
Those ice blue eyes slid over to you and held your gaze before he looked away with a dismissive ‘pfft’, tossing the stuffed animal on top of his rucksack. “Ain’t sad.”
The smile you gave him was soft, sympathetic. “Yeah, you are. But you shouldn’t be. She’ll be just as excited tomorrow as she would have been today.” Your head tilted, smile broadening. “Judith doesn’t care what day you give her a gift. You’re Uncle Daryl. She’ll beam at you like you hung the moon no matter what.”
One corner of his mouth ticked upward. He hummed and ruffled your hair, the other side of his lips mirroring its counterpart. Sitting back, you swatted his hands away with an exaggerated series of waves. 
“We can still make this special.” Teeth worried your bottom lip but you fought to push down the anxiety slithering around in your tummy. When the archer tilted his head, waiting for an explanation, you crawled across the floor and reached into your bag. The newspaper wrapping was sloppy with no tape or bows to make it nice but it was the end of the world. You worked with what you had. Shuffling back to him on your knees, you sat back on your heels and held out the black and white papered mess. “Here.”
His face was unreadable, that scowl firmly in place as he stared at your offering. You would have felt dejected had you not seen the myriad of emotions steadily streaming through those pretty blue eyes. After what felt like hours, Daryl cleared his throat and reached for the wadded mess. 
“Ya didn’… uh…ya didn’ hafta do nothin’ like this.” It was easy to discern the slight tremor in his hands. 
“Yeah, I did. I wanted to.” You wiggled back and forth, both eager and nervous for him to unwrap it. When he just held it, you stilled. “What’s wrong?”
“I, uh…” The archer carefully lowered the gift to his lap but kept his hands around it, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the newspaper. “Never really had stuff like this growin’ up…presents n’ shit.”
Rubbing your lips together, you placed a hand on his knee, just beside the gift. He didn’t look away from it. “Just open it when you’re ready. I’m in no hurry.” Keeping your hand where it was, you maneuvered into your previous position: cross-legged with your chin on the very edge of his leg. 
He was committing the moment to memory. You could tell by the way he studied the object, tilting it back and forth just so. But this is what you wanted; to break through the past he had suffered with thoughts of a future full of new memories to make. And to share. 
He cleared his throat again. It was then that you noticed the shine of moisture holding steady on his waterline. “I… got ya, uh… I got ya somethin’ too.” He balanced the gift on his lap with one hand and dug around in his pocket before finally pulling out a small, blue drawstring bag. So much hesitance; he started to hand it over before pulling it back. He did that three more times before he allowed you to take it. 
Now, your eyes began to leak. “Oh, Daryl.” You pulled the little bag toward you and pressed it against your chest. Whatever was concealed inside was hard and twisted but you didn’t venture to guess. You wanted complete surprise. 
His eyes flitted between your gift and his. Still, he made no move to open his own. The present you’d given him was quite a bit larger. Maybe he was worried that that somehow bothered you. When he finally looked up at you, your heart clenched. He was adorably lost. 
“Open it?” You suggested gently, lowering your hands to your lap with the small bag visible in your cupped palms. He was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip for several seconds before he slowly began to unfold the paper. You watched with bated breath as the items were revealed, studying his demeanor as discreetly as possible. If he didn’t like it, you wanted to know for next year. 
Next year. A bittersweet thought. How many of you would even still be there to see it? You minutely shook away the distressing notion and just in time, too. 
The corners of his mouth slowly lifted into the smallest yet most genuine smile you’d ever seen him wear. A calloused finger traced over the image of a motorcycle on the shiny Zippo. There was a carton of cigarettes and a small container of lighter fluid as well but the lighter had his complete attention. 
“Now look, mister. I don’t condone your habit but I figure we all need our guilty pleasures now more than—”
“Thank you.” So soft that you barely heard it. 
You melted in an instant into a gentle smile that he didn’t see, hiding behind a fringe of dark hair. “You’re welcome.” You waited him out. He was having a hard time with the entire concept and you may have heard a quiet sniffle but no, you didn’t. 
“Ya gon’,” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “ya gon’ open yers?” You looked down at the bag, seeing him wipe his face on the back of his hand from the corner of your eye. You’d never tell him, though. You’d let him keep that one. 
You were careful with your expression, keeping the excited gleam in your eye as you pulled the top of the bag open. It could be an acorn and you’d adore it because it was Daryl who went through the trouble of finding such a pretty little bag for it. Just for you. 
You dipped two fingers inside, curling them around cold metal, prodding your curiosity. What you began to pull out was a thin, braided chain. It was still a shiny silver. You weren’t even sure what it was made from and it didn’t matter. It would remain around your neck even if your skin turned green. Still, once the entire thing was revealed, it wasn’t the chain that held your focus. 
Your inquisitive gaze lifted to find his cheeks a shade of pink and one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. 
“S’a…well, s’a hex nut.” Your head tilted. “From my bike.”
You stared at him in complete awe, knowing that when he finally looked at you, he was going to panic but you’d settle him once you worked through your own emotions. You carefully placed the chain over the edge of your hand so the nut laid in your palm. It was small with small knicks and dark areas, indicating use. You were so enthralled with it that you didn’t feel the tear escaping down your cheek. 
“Know s’stupid but—” 
His arms shot out to the side when you collided with him, your arms tight around his shoulders and face against his neck. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he wrapped one arm around you and then the other, his cheek against the top of your head. 
“Thank you.” You whispered. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.” When he huffed out a laugh, you sat back and wiped at your face with the tips of your fingers, the necklace he’d made for you still dangling from your hand. “Don’t say a word. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. It’s really the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given.” Your hand traveled out to rest against his cheek. “And I love it. Will you put it on me?” 
“Um, okay.” 
You beamed at him and held out the chain, spinning around and gathering your hair out of the way. Daryl was hesitant, you could just picture him trying to work through how to get it around your neck without invading your space. You knew it was impossible but you’d let him figure that out on his own. 
Finally you felt him reach over your right shoulder, then your left, to part the two ends and pull them back to fasten against the back of your neck. Your breath hitched when his fingertips lingered against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. 
“There ya go.” 
Your skin felt colder when he pulled away but you didn’t linger on it. You turned to face him, holding the piece out so you could look down at it with a brilliant smile. 
“Thank you.” You said again, twisting the gift back and forth. 
“Yer welcome.” He mumbled. 
Shimmying closer, you laid your head against his leg and looked at the fire, fingertips still brushing against the cool metal hanging from your neck. Above you, he was flipping the lid of the Zippo open and closing it repeatedly, as if it was the first one he’d ever seen. You were admittedly surprised he hadn’t already lit up at least three cigarettes.
“You did replace the nut you took from the bike, right?” You erupted into giggles when he bounced his leg and jostled your head.
It was almost comical to you that Daryl was this tough badass but so shy when it came to even someone as close as you were to him. It was incredibly endearing. Tilting your head back, you smiled up at him. He responded by placing his hand over the entirety of your face, his expression remaining neutral. You still saw the twinkle in his eye when you freed yourself. 
Then your smile disappeared, replaced with a sudden look of bewilderment. The archer noticed immediately, brow drawing in concern. 
“Wha’?”
You weren’t looking at him though. You were looking past him, at the ceiling. Slowly you sat up straight, tilting your head while holding your gaze steady. Daryl finally followed your line of sight to the area above your heads. 
There, hanging from the wooden rafters, was a branch of what appeared to be fresh mistletoe. A red bow was tied prettily around the stem. 
“Is that—” You began. 
“—mistletoe.” Daryl finished. 
Both your heads lowered, your eyes meeting. You could tell from the way he looked at you that he wasn’t ignorant of the tradition. Your own cheeks had grown warm just as you watched the subtle flush settle over his. 
You should have been questioning the presence of the plant. How it got there. Why it looked new in an otherwise desolate, dusty cabin. 
But those inquiries paled in comparison to the way Daryl’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up. 
“Be a shame to go against tradition.” You reasoned. 
“Yer the expert.” He gave a single-shouldered shrug. 
With a soft breath past your lips, you sat up on your knees, inching a little closer. Daryl moved toward the edge of the chair, leaning down slightly. You were so close that you could feel his breath against your lips.
“Merry Christmas, Daryl.”
A beat. 
“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”
When your lips met, nothing else mattered. 
Not the snow that now fell in gentle flurries. 
Not the motorcycle that now leaned against the wall just outside. 
And certainly not the bare rafters above your heads where nothing was hanging.  
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Taglist:
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309 notes · View notes
Text
DPxDC story idea prompt thing #12
Dr. Victor Fries had swore both to himself and his precious wife, Nora, that he would find a cure for the both of them. He would do anything to save his wife from her terminal illness and had been keeping her in a frozen state until the day he could cure her. His precious snow angel. His most beloved ice princess.
But time is a crueler mistress than even the cold. Victor had been apart from his sweet Nora for years now, and he was no closer to finding a cure for her. For his part, Victor Fries was hardly the same man he had been when he and his wife agreed to have her cryogennically frozen until he could save her all those years ago. Victor- better known as Mr. Freeze these days- understood the cold that Nora was trapped in all too well now... But where she rested in her timeless winter slumber, Victor stayed awake.
It had been a freak accident that forced Victor to have to live this cryogenic suit or die. And he would not die. Not until his wife could be saved from the grips of death. He may have been doomed, little more than a frozen corpse spurred on to keep living for the sake of his wife, but if there was even a chance of his wife being cured and able to lead a normal life again, he would take it. There would be no cure for him. No. He didn't want one anymore. Once Nora's life had been saved, that would be enough for him. Once Nora was safe and healthy once more, he would be happy and permit himself to die at last. He often dreamed of feeling that warmth again. The warmth of Nora's hand against his skin. A feeling he could only experience when death finally came for him.
Meanwhile in the Ghost Zone, in the reaches of the Realm of the Far Frozen, something was forming. A core of ice, touched with an undying love that had never ceased nor hesitated for a moment over the long, frozen years. And from that core formed a woman, her frozen form in death just as beautiful as she was in life.
She collapsed into the soft, powdery snow, groaning as she slowly opened her eyes for the first time. "Victor...?" She asked into the air. She may have just formed, but she could feel that something was... Wrong. Like she wasn't entirely there... She shivered. She was cold. She was so, so cold... Why did she feel cold? Somehow in the center of her being she knew that this was her element... And something so dear to her shouldn't be able to hurt her... Right...? And yet she felt cold...
She looked up, but found that only one of her eyes could see. It somehow felt as if her other eye was closed and she could not open it no matter how hard she tried, even though she could feel with her fingers that her eyes were both open. No matter. "... Where am I...?" Nora asked aloud as she searched around her for her Victor. Where was he? Where was her Victor...? Had he found a cure? ... A cure for what...? ... Who was Victor?
Note: Just an idea that I came up with. Basically, Mr. Freeze is still doing his Mr. Freeze things in Gotham, but Nora has been frozen for so long in this pseudo-dead state that she half forms as a ghost in the Ghost Zone. I don't know how ghosts get born (or what the fanon says about that), so I'm making shit up here. Just roll with it. :p Nora is technically still "alive" where Victor is storing her... Or rather, she can be brought back to life relatively easily. But her illness isn't gone either, and by all accounts, she's technically dead as all of her biological functions have been perfectly frozen and are inactive. So she's both dead and not dead, you get me? So since she's technically half dead pretty much, I just wondered... What would happen if she somehow managed to form as an at least partial ghost while in this state!!!? Please use this idea and play with it all you like. I just... love Nora so much. Nora my beloved.
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beastofburdenxo · 4 months
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Hypothermia
Emmett shares a bed with you on a particularly cold night. 1.6k words Tags: dry humping, wet dreams, reader is a virgin.
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Emmett promised your parents that he would take care of you if anything happened to them. Not realizing that, not long after he promised them that the creatures would come. Sadly, neither survived and you were stuck with Emmett. Nothing against him of course, he was an alright guy. He was a family friend; someone you saw all the time at the house on the weekends. He was quiet, reserved, resourceful. Emmett also lost his family not long after yours so you two were all each other had. You two toughed it out together, he taught you how to hunt. He taught you which plants were edible, and which were not. You taught him how to patch up his clothes when needed. The both of you were a team, working together to stay alive.  
Instead of moving out and going to college, you moved what little belongings you could to an old factory on the outskirts of town with Emmett. He found it on a supply run without you and thought it best to move away and stay hidden from the creatures. Besides, there wasn’t much left to salvage anyways, what you two haven’t already scavenged to use was in disrepair and too time consuming to try and fix. Emmett was a bit of a loner anyways, so moving away from the few remaining living souls didn’t bother him a bit. Not you though, you didn’t like the idea of leaving the only home you ever knew. But you went ahead and did anyways, because you knew you couldn’t make it without him. You two made the basement of the old factory your home, considering it was almost soundproof. Emmett brought down a mattress he found in an empty house to sleep on, not realizing it was going to be a tight fit for both of you. During the summer, he refused the makeshift bed, insisting you take it. He crafted a pallet out of old covers and towels that he slept on next to yours.  
One particularly cold winter night, you lie in bed, feeling your fingers and toes start to turn blue. Every piece of clothing you own is on your body on top of what little covers you have, but it’s still not enough. With teeth chattering, you look over at Emmett’s still figure wondering if he’s about to go into hypothermia as well. “Emmett,” you whisper in the dark, “Are you sleeping? It's so cold in here my body hurts.” Emmett turns towards you, “No, I can’t sleep either. It's an awfully bad night tonight. Would you like some of my covers?” A shiver runs through your body as you try to still your chattering teeth. “I don’t think that’s going to cut it here Emmett, we both need body heat or we’re not going to survive the night. Will you come closer?” A long pause sits in the air before you get an answer. “Are you asking me to get in bed with you? You trying to cuddle?” he asks with a chuckle. “This is serious, if you don’t get over here, we’re both going to freeze to death. It's not like I have anyone else to choose from. I'll behave, I’m just trying to not die tonight.”  
You feel a bit more weight on you as Emmett takes the covers off his pallet and throws it on yours. Before you can plead with him, he lies down beside you. “Alright, here I am, now go to sleep.” It is a tight fit with him beside you, both being on your backs, so you turn to the side away from him to make room. The heat radiating off Emmett’s body helps, but it’s not enough to knock the chill off your body. You try and scoot closer to him, much to his dismay. “Just what do you think you're doing? You wanted me here, so here I am. What more do you want?” You start to feel him move away. “No please don’t go.” you whine, “I’m just so cold and I know you are too. Please come here. Wrap your arm around me Emmett.” With a sigh he replies, “Only because it feels below zero tonight. Don't get any ideas here.” He pulls you closer to him, his body heat enveloping you. He has both of his strong arms around your waist as the two of you stop shivering. “Now was that so bad?” you ask. You get a scoff in response. You feel him move around. “What are you doing? I can’t sleep with you thrashing!”  
“I’m taking my shirt off.” Your eyes get big at his words. “Why in the hell are you doing that?” Emmett sighs, “Did I teach you anything? Survival 101, skin on skin contact is the best against hypothermia. It's dark and neither of us can see the other, so just do it.” With a gulp you shakily remove your shirt, goosebumps hitting your skin at the thought of being next to him in your bra. This is all new to you and you’re trying to remain calm and adult like about it. “My pants too?” you nervously ask. Emmett’s strong arms go back to being around you. “That’s up to you. Considering the layers are thin, I think we’ll be fine like this. Now let's get some sleep.” He was right about the skin-on-skin contact, it was almost too warm now. You were able to feel his broad chest directly on your back, his light coating of chest hair tickling your skin. Part of you wanted to turn around and face him, but you didn’t want him to leave either, so you stayed where you were. Your little heart was pounding, you’ve never had a man be this physically close to you, much less Emmett. You hoped he was too far gone in sleep to notice. “Just breathe, you know Emmett, he wouldn’t hurt you.” you tell yourself over and over until your breathing finally slows and sleep takes you in its hold.  
In the middle of the night, you awaken to Emmett still holding you to him. But this time, something is different. One arm is still around you, the other is next to you, his hand squeezing your hip. Something is also digging into your back. You move slightly trying to get comfortable, and Emmett softly moans. You realize what it is, Emmett is hard in his sleep. Trying not to panic and wake him up, you wonder what to do now. If he wakes, he’ll freak out at the situation and possibly get mad, so you just lie there for a bit. “It’s not like he did it on purpose, he’s dead asleep!” you think to yourself, “He has no control over his body, it’ll go away, just chill out!” at that moment, Emmett slightly moves, pulling you even closer to him, his dick even more prominent to you now. The hand on your hip now slowly strokes your side. His breath is still slow and labored, he’s still out cold. Emmett slowly starts to grind against you, the friction pulling down your loose pants, exposing your ass to him. His face is buried in your shoulder, panting heavy at his motions. You try to reach behind you to pull your pants back up, but there’s no room between you two, and you wind up touching his toned stomach instead. You freeze as a whine leaves his mouth, thinking you woke him up.  
Luckily for you, he’s a heavy sleeper and he goes back to dry humping you as you take your hand back. You must admit, it doesn’t feel terrible. “Do I just lie here and let him grind on me?” You like hearing his moans too, but you’d never admit that. You wish you could see the look on his face right now, but not daring to turn. His hand comes up and cups your breast through your bra, softly squeezing. “Yes,” he breathes into your ear, “Yes baby like that.” You close your eyes and pretend that he means that, that he knows it’s you and he really wants you; not pretending that you’re someone else. You softly place your hand on top of Emmett’s, not brave enough to do much else. “Babygirl, yes, right there, please.” That causes a moan to come out of your own mouth. Goosebumps return to your skin, but for another reason. Nerves be damned, you can’t take much more. You take the hand on your bra and slowly guide it downwards, reveling in his rough hand on your body and how good it feels. Reaching your soaked panties you wonder, “Am I seriously about to do this? Am I going to take advantage of a man that has been nothing but good and kind to me?”  
Before you can answer yourself, Emmett moves again. His bodyweight on yours makes you turn over on your stomach. He is directly on top of you now. With your legs slightly more open than before, you can feel him right where you want him. Now Emmett is just rutting against you without abandon, each motion moving your panties against your clit. It takes all you have in you to not answer his moans with your own. Right before you feel like you could come for the first time ever, he growls your name as you feel hot liquid seep onto your panties. Emmett slows, his high receding, softly panting as he moves off you, flopping onto his back. Your mind is reeling, “Did he just say my name as he came? Did I hear that right?” You slowly look over at him, for some reason expecting him to finally be awake after all that. But his breathing is the same as earlier, slow and soft in dreamland. “Well at least he’ll sleep good tonight, I sure as hell won’t.” You curl back up, parts of you demanding more attention after being rudely interrupted. It was a long night for you indeed.
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tobifuyu · 3 months
Text
Snowflakes In My Stomach When We’re Kissin’
RAN HAITANI x f!reader
cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, fwb to lovers, oral (male reciving), tiny bit of angsty themes with happy ending, sappy fic, ran being a simp as always to feed my “he’s a self-centered bitch until he finds the one” agenda.
wc: 3.2k
a/n: surprise… i’m back with a christmas present! this is the first fic in a three pieces installment, which can all be read as standalone but come from the same universe and evolve in the span of three different christmases. in case you didn’t know, in japan christmas is a holiday in which people spend time with their partners because they reserve new year’s for family (not only i’ve seen it in a whole lot of shoujo anime but i’ve asked my japanese coworkers to confirm eheh). it’s also customary to eat cake! ;)
“Though you said you just wanted to get a coffee.”
The only thing peeking from the red scarf is the tip of his nose, flushed with the same color of the fabric that’s wrapped around his neck. You imagine his lips curved in a smirk under it.
When he came to pick you up earlier this morning, you thought he made a bold choice pairing the red garment with the unusual color of his hair. Up until then, you always believed red and purple would clash.
But Ran made it work, somehow. Like most things in his life, he did it with a confidence that made you question your world and how you view it even if for just a second.
“Well, that we did,” He shakes his hand, his long fingers easily supporting the weight of the full cup. You can see the steam rise from it and wonder if he’s not drinking it because he’s scared to burn his tongue or because he’s not ready to go home yet.
The two of you are currently walking around Shiba Park, not too far from Roppongi Hills. The peak of Tokyo Tower is hidden in plain sight behind the trees, stripped naked by the season, and adorned by strings of fairy lights.
In daylight they look clear, void of color, and empty, they come alive at night. Just like we both do, thinks Ran.
Ran does like winter. He believes winter poses more opportunities to forgo going out and staying in bed. He loves to gaze out of his apartment’s window and spot rain pit patting against the glass, watching the water droplets leave streaks behind as he lets himself get lulled back to sleep.
He also likes that he can layer more clothes, the more the merrier, he says, it’s easier to style it. You would agree, because he looks particularly elegant with his long black coat, left unbuttoned to glimpse at the nice sweater under it. The sight of his tightly clad body alone ignites a fire inside of you, one that is meek but insistent, and will soon start to burn you inside out.
What Ran doesn’t like it’s the cold. The wind is not fair against his pale skin, it leaves it red and stinging, much like his heart when he wakes up after a night together and doesn’t find you there. He does not like the cold, the cold of the sheets around him when you’ve left hours before.
He would like to pretend he’s clueless as to why, the same way you’re staring at him now, but he knows the reason behind it.
“Are you gonna tell me why we’re wandering around without a destination in freezing weather?
“Can’t you just live a little?”
You scoff at his words, taking another sip out of your hot chocolate to bite back an insult. He’s already testing your patience, and you have very little of it left today of all days.
“We should go eat some cake, I’d love an excuse to grab a Mont Blanc for later at that bakery by your apartment. Y’know I like it there.”
Cake. You don’t like cake, and you don’t like what eating cake with him would mean today of all days.
“Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Ran?” You sigh, head shaking in disappointment.
When you decided to start this with Ran, it was because you believed the man to be on the same wavelength as you. Ran had seemed like someone who knew what he wanted, and you had been sure that was not you.
He had promised that would stay the case. Your heart could not afford to be cared for by somebody.
When you look at him this time, you don’t notice how the wind is whipping the skin of his high cheeks red because his scarf is now covering everything but the lidded eyes staring at you.
At this rate Ran might end up hating winter: you seem to get colder with the season. He doesn’t think he would pick sleeping in over you, so if he could, he would like for summer to last all year long.
He’d like for you to cling to him even when the temperature is so high you can barely breathe in your cramped room, sweat sticking to both your skin and his, like your very first night together.
Because where the holidays bring glee to most, to you they’re a reminder of times that are long gone. A childhood spent decorating the tree and wishing for the perfect Christmas gift, now turned into a life of solitude. Your fast-paced job and lonely apartment away from home don’t leave space for the frivolity of Christmas.
“Didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he speaks so clearly of his intentions you almost feel shame, “Did ya think I would’ve left you bask in your gloominess, today? ‘M not that bad of an ass.”
You don’t think Ran owns you anything. He shouldn’t be picking up the pieces of you that other people left scattered and putting them back together as if it were a kids’ puzzle.
Ran knows you don’t really have anyone, he thinks he’s much like you, and would be just as bitter if he didn’t have his brother.
“You left Rin by himself?”
You hear his muffled laughter, “‘course not. Haruchiyo’s there. Y’know how they are.”
Yes. In love, you suppose. And you wonder if Ran thinks that is what it is. And what is it between you two?
You can feel his body warmth as he gravitates closer to you, “‘M cold,” is his excuse when his now ungloved hand catches yours. He intertwines your fingers, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb, before hiding them away in his coat pocket.
Gotta warm your cold heart up, he thinks.
“Saving you from this freezing weather,” is what he says out loud.
But you know it’s because the movement brings you closer, he pulls you so you’re now shoulder to shoulder, and you’re not strong enough to keep your head from falling on his. As if you were fresh snow in the sun, you melt in his presence.
“Let’s go get cake,” your voice is but a soft whisper, running past him like the breeze through the dying leaves, the wind finally settling down.
And that’s how he ends up in your apartment. Sounds of wet skin slapping against one another fill the void as he buries himself deep inside of you.
The sweet pastries Ran bought long forgotten over your kitchen counter, as he’d much rather taste the honeyed nectar spilling from between your thighs.
He’s grabbing at them now, the hold on your flesh sure to leave marks behind as he folds your legs so that he can loop his arms under your knees, keeping you spread open for him.
Big body caging you under his warmth with his forehead pressed against yours, and open mouths a breath away from the other, sharing sounds of pleasure without ever meeting in the middle.
It had been a tantalizing dance when you first started sleeping together. Like most people in your situation, you had both concluded that it would be best if you refrained from kissing. Deeming it too intimate.
Ran had caved after the third time you ended up in his bed, lips too needy to be kept from yours. He had let out a soft plead before you met him in the middle.
From then on you made it your mission to never kiss him outside of your bedroom activities, too scared of the power his kisses held over you. He and his annoying self had taken it as a challenge, always on the edge of his seat waiting to see who’d kiss the other first.
“Oh fuck this,” Ran groans before giving in.
You catch sight of his eyelids fluttering shut, hiding that violet color that you love so much, and your lips lock in a kiss that takes your breath as much as the hips still snapping against yours.
The coarse patch of hair on his navel repeatedly brushes against your puffed-up clit, making your hips jump up to chase the friction. The man is shamelessly shallowing your moans and caressing your tongue with his, teeth closing around your bottom lip when you go to pull away.
“Ngh, you taste like cake.”
Ran had snuck a bite of one of the pieces the moment he stepped out of the bakery, and the sweet taste on his tongue was, in your opinion, way better than the real deal.
His hand grasps your chin with firmness, the tips of his fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your blushed lips pucker up.
“So you do like cake, mh?”
“No, I don-“ Ran squeezes harder, and your mouth parts. A glob of spit falls on your tongue, one that you shallow under his scrutinizing gaze.
The moan that he lets out at that reverberates through your chest as he bends so close your bodies are now completely pressed against one another, sharing body heat.
This is what sex with Ran is, a concoction of rough touches and fucking that turn soft and slow when you least expect it. He likes to tease and surprise you, stealing the prettiest sounds from your lips and making them his. Making you his.
“Y’don’t like cake, s’okay. I know you like me,” one of his hands teasingly pinches your right nipple, respective eye closing in a wink.
You like that he makes sex fun, cracking jokes as if his cock weren’t pumping inside of you. You like it, you like him, but you can’t have him know that.
“That’s not-“ he interrupts you once again, this time with the snapping of his hips. He starts fucking you like he means it. Calculated thrusts hitting against the sweet spot only he knows how to find.
Ran is on his knees now, hands firmly planted on your raised hips, guiding you back and forth over his length.
“Fuck! Ran, fuck that feels good- so good-“
Slurred words leave your panting mouth as your hands hold onto the pillow behind your head for dear life, back arched and chest exposed to the greedy eyes that are raking over your body. From your perked-up nipples, begging to be played with, to the way your cunt is stretching around his cock.
“Don’t have enough hands for the things I wanna do to you,” Nonetheless, he repositions his right one so that it’s splayed over your navel, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles on your slicked clit.
“Fuckin’ cunt squeezing me so good,” moans spill from your mouth at his words, his voice is strained but maintains that hint of icy superiority and poise that is characteristic of Ran.
The way your hole flutters around him is maddening, Ran can feel your walls clenching against his length so perfectly. He can feel everything.
As a matter of fact, so do you. No matter how dumb he fucks you, you can’t ever miss out on the sweet feeling of his bare skin caressing your wet cunt. The squelching sounds are filling the air around you, making your cheeks heat up and your head lull to the side, trying to avoid his eyes in shame.
Half face buried in the pillow, you beg for him, “Ran, please, please. I need to cum so bad.”
His thrusts slow down, thumb stilling over your clit, and you hear him hum, pensive.
“Maybe if you looked at me, pretty, I might think about letting you.”
Gathering your remaining strength, you open your eyes to the sight of his glorious body above yours.
The wetness of his skin shines under the light of the outside street lamp, peeking in from the window, full body tattoo so enchanting, you watch it move and bend over his rising chest.
With violet eyes fixed on yours, he stands tall, unreachable.
The purple strands that fall from his gelled-back hairstyle are the only giveaway that he’s not so perfect and pristine after all, but he still looks like a god in your devoted eyes.
“Ran,” you call his name so softly he tumbles from the skies right to you.
His body bends to lay over yours, weight supported by his arms at your sides. With a snap of his hips, he breaks the longing stare you’re both sharing, mushroom tip hitting the spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Oh my god, that feels so-“ “I know, baby, s’okay.” One of his hands caresses over your head, before stopping at your neck and closing around your windpipe. The pressure of his touch against your feverish skin is delicious.
Your nails are now creating indents in the flesh of his arms. You want more, you need him to break you.
Ran can’t stop thrusting, pounding, burying himself inside of you to the hilt. He’s never wanted to be this close to someone before, never needed their warmth as he does yours.
He stops you before you can reach your clit with your fingers and, wanting to be the one to take you over the edge, he uses his free hand to rub over it vehemently.
“Coming, I’m coming,” are the rushed words that fall from your lips before you hit your peak. Wanton moans are gracing Ran’s ears, making his balls strain from holding back, but he wants you to bask in the glow of your orgasm before he reaches his.
“Doin’ so well fo’ me, look at this pretty pussy. Gushing all over my cock.” He looks down as he says this, watching how good he’s splitting you open, his cock coming out of you covered with the white sheen of your arousal, then plunging back in.
Your spent body is overstimulated, twitching in his hold as if trying to run away from the pleasure.
“You’re the only one, baby.” Ran lets slip, the sight of you in your most vulnerable state makes him just as weak, “S’all yours, so take it.” And he means it, you’re the only one.
Before you, life used to be in black and white. Ran had tried everything to paint it some other color, from violence to sex, but nothing ever came close to holding you in his arms.
Color is always all around him, but Ran’s devoid of it until you touch him.
You pull him down to you at the confession, arms wrapped around his neck, chests pressed against one another, hard nipples tickling the soft skin.
The pace suddenly turns slow, and you wonder if Ran does not care about coming anymore. His focus is on you, and you’re staring back at him with just as much affection.
“Let me take care of you,” it’s what you suggest once you’ve come down from your high, fingers pressing against his shoulders to have him lay back in the sheets. Short hair sprawled over the white pillow like a halo behind his troubled head.
Both of your thighs are circling his hips, too scared to have Ran pull out, and be prevailed by that sense of emptiness and cold that comes from being away from him.
Fighting a whirlpool of emotions, you feel the need to silence your mind with his lips on yours. The clashing of your noses does nothing to stop you from kissing each other passionately.
The blame should be on Ran for making you fall for him and gifting you a brand new reason to celebrate Christmas, but you should’ve known better when he walked into your life with that snarky smirk that makes you sigh just thinking about it. You bite his lip in retaliation.
The feeling of Ran’s hands traveling over your skin and sinking with his strong grip on the flesh of your hips is what makes you separate your two halves, pussy clenching around the length that has been filling you up so perfectly. The need to make him feel just as good swells up on the inside.
“Fuck, please,” A choked whisper, falling from the pearlescent of his lips, wet with your love, blood pouring out of the bitten skin.
Purple and red do look good together, you think.
Your hands are warm, trailing up his stomach like the ink on his skin. He feels as if you’re moving too fast, scared he might blink and lose the moment, and at the same time too slow for his liking. He’s begging and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for. But you do.
Ran’s hands tighten around the bedsheets. He wants to touch everywhere you’ve been, wants to get stained in you. Like fresh paint that sticks on skin, he’s now colored in your shades.
Wet kisses are being left on the top of his shaft. Ran’s right hand finds your hair, waving his fingers between the loose strands to uncover the sight of your pretty face.
Lidded eyes are watching you glide your tongue down his hardness, caressing the bluish veins running across its sides, tasting yourself on it.
When your lips wrap around his sensitive tip you have to hold down his hips with both hands.
The peace you set is slow, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His girth stretches your lips and he thumbs the lower one as you look up at him with tears forming at your lashline.
“Mouth feels like fucking heaven, angel.”
Ran can barely contain himself, dangling from the edge, his balls heavy with his release.
When your nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock, you know you’ve successfully taken him whole. A huge accomplishment on your part, considering how blessed he is.
With your throat clenching around him, it doesn’t take long to feel him twitch in your mouth.
“Yeah, pretty girl, just like that. Make me cum, fuck!”
Bobbing your head at his request, you’re hasty in sucking your checks around his length, letting him come on the back of your tongue with languid moans that contain your name.
No need for him to ask, you’re one step ahead by swallowing his semen, making a show of it before leaving a wet kiss on his tip, to collect the white drop that was spilling over.
“Better than any cake.”
Booming laughter fills the space around you as you scoot closer to his tired body, laying on his naked frame and stealing all his warmth.
“I do like you.”
“I know,” Ran looks down at you, left check cutely smushed against his pecs, “Let’s spend New Year’s together.”
The faint movement of your hair brushing his skin tells him you’re agreeing, “And what about… next year?”
“Let’s spend them all together.”
You’re warm in his hold, and he figures the fairy lights might’ve come on in the park.
Ran thinks back to the rest of the untouched cake on your kitchen counter and is happy enough that the two of you have exchanged Christmas gifts in your own special way.
After all, he took away the cold, and you’ve brightened up his life.
That’s more of what you could’ve wished for.
252 notes · View notes
staytinyville · 3 months
Text
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Stay Alive (39)
BTS poly!ot7 x Reader
Magical Creatures AU
Series Masterlist
Warnings: none
A/N NOT BETA. I have some polls to do once I finish this whole section of meeting all the boys families. I have one out right now here >> (01/11/23-01/18/23). It's a simple yes or no so be sure to go check it out!
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Taehyung lived on the other side of Daegu where a majority of its forest and landscaping was. The mountains were a lot like Seoul but a bit smaller. They had caves where dragons and elves lived but the place Taehyung took you to was just a large forest area with colorful foliage and plants that you had never seen before. 
The excited boy was pulling you along quickly, dragging you almost with how much he was rushing forward to find the place he was looking for. You didn’t have time to look around your surroundings, only catching small glimpses of colors and other people lingering about. Your eyes almost popped out of your skull when you both came across a large gathering of people with angel-like wings on their backs. 
Taehyung had explained to you that they were fearies. If he had his own wings, they too would look just like those. Large and black that would stretch out to be 10 feet in length. As you kept moving forward, you could only stare at his back with sad eyes. You could only imagine the feeling he must have felt to see others of his kind with their wings. It must be tough to lose a part of yourself. 
Taehyung didn’t show it though, he still continued to drag you around the forest and giggle as his eyes widened at the familiar forest of his home. 
“I'm going!” You laughed when he turned to look at you. “Wait.” You told him pointedly, catching him stop to give you a boxy smile that you had fallen in love with. 
“Sorry!” He told you, pulling you closer. “I'm just so excited for you to see my home.” He looked around once more, closing his eyes as the wind blew through his hair. 
“You don't live in a house?” You frowned, looking around to try and find some semblance of a building. 
“I mean we do but they're hidden in the forests nearby.” The man explained. “Fearies like nature a bit more than most. Hobi's kind live the same way–it connects us to nature.” He added. 
You paused for a moment to think about how Hoseok and Taehyung differed. You were clearly able to tell some differences but not all. So it left you wondering just how similar the two were and how different. 
“Do you and Hobi have the same abilities?” You asked. 
“Not at all.” Taehyung answered you, turning to walk alongside you as he continued on his journey. “Only spell casting and telekinesis. I have wings and Hobi doesn't. There are a couple of other things too.” He rambled on. 
You smiled at his boyish nature, knowing that was just the personality Taehyung had. “Like transfiguration?” You asked him, remembering how it was only Taehyung who had turned the boys into frogs. 
“Yes!” Taehyung giggled, happy to know you figured that one out. “I can do that but Hobi can't. He also can't shapeshift.” He explained nonchalantly. 
“You can shapeshift?” You gasped, giggling to yourself as you swung your intertwined hands around. 
“Into a lot of things!” Taehyung smiled, ducking to rub his nose along your own. 
However something in the distance made him freeze, quickly turning his head to find the source. You could hear some people talking followed by one or two barks of a dog.
“Oh!” Taehyung’s face suddenly lit up, his breathing turning sporadic. “Oh my gods! Hurry!” He pulled you harshly, running forward without letting you get the chance to start. 
“Taehyung!” You gasped. “I'm trying.” You yelled, getting your legs to start working. 
“Another thing Hobi doesn't have.” Taehyung’s eyes sparkled as he looked around. 
There was rattling coming from the trees and something came out from the foliage. “A familiar!” He screamed, letting go of your hand and rushing towards a small pomeranian dog that was running towards the two of you. 
“Yeontan!” Taahyunh cried, picking up the puppy. “I'm home! I made it home. I'm so sorry.” He cried, rubbing his cheeks against the dog’s fluffy coat. 
“Yeontan!” Someone called out, rushing out from between some trees in a panic. When the man saw you and Taehyung, he gasped quietly. “Taehyung.” He whispered, a large smile overtaking his face. 
Taehyung turned around, setting down the dog before lunging at the man who clearly recognized the boy. “Hyung!” Taehyung laughed, hugging the man around his neck. 
“Nothing has changed has it?” The man laughed, hugging Taehyung closer to him as he laughed joyfully. 
When they both pulled away, the man’s eyes drifted over towards you, causing his eyes to widen and clear his throat. “Taehyung?” He nudged the boy's shoulder, trying to get his attention back on you.
“Taehyung, you have a guest.” Someone spoke up, causing you to look around for the source but finding no one else in the vicinity.
“Oh right!” Taehyung pulled back, giving you a grin as he brought you closer. “Seo-Joon.” He told the man. “Yeontan.” He turned to the dog. “This is my mate, (Y/N).” 
The smile on his face reminded you of a boy who was excited to showcase a trophy. You giggled at his expression, wanting to coo at him but decided not to because of the others in the area. You would have to coddle him later.  
“Hello.” Seojoon bowed his head in greeting, you followed after. 
“It's nice to meet you.” You spoke up.
“Goodday.” Your eyes went wide as the voice came from the ground, locking on to the dog Taehyung was just crying over. 
“Oh, he just talked.” You squeaked, looking at the animal in astonishment. 
“Yes, familiars do that!” Taehyung clapped, reaching down to pick up Yeontan. “Here hold him.” 
You jumped back as Taehyung shoved the poor animal in your face, his tongue lapping out as he panted. 
“Please don't.” Yeontan sighed, closing his mouth as he hung in Taehyung’s arms. 
“Yeontan. Be nice. She is my mate.” Teahyung pouted, looking at the dog in the face. 
“Don't worry I won't.” You smiled at him.
Yeontan gave you a nod in thanks and if he could you would assume he was giving you a kind smile. You could tell the animal praised Taehyung a lot and only allowed him to touch him more than often. He seemed like those kinds of pets. The ones who got attached to their owners at a young age. At least that was what you compared him to. 
“Have you been taking care of him since I've been gone?” Taehyung turned to Seo-Joon. 
“I found him after you disappeared.” Seojoon answered, frowning just a bit. “He told me about the man who took you.”
Your eyebrows rose as you heard Seojoon’s story. Turning to look at Yeontan in Taehyung’s arms, you begin to wonder how it was he managed to escape. But then again, maybe a dog wasn’t as important as an actual faerie or dragon. 
“I was there but managed to escape in time.” Yeontan began to explain as he caught your glance. “I made it this far before Seo-Joon found me. Without Taehyung, I'm not able to turn into anything else.”
“I'm sorry I left.” Taehyung sighed, rubbing his cheek against Yeontan’s fur again. 
“It's alright, Tae.” The dog wiggled around for a moment in Taehyung’s hold. “I'm glad you're back.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t have wings.” Seojoon spoke somberly. 
Taehyung froze for a moment and his shoulders dropped. He gave a sad smile, softly curling his fingers around Yeontan’s fur. “Things were hard in the facility.” He quietly said. 
“And you can tell us when you are ready.” Yeontan cut in. 
Seojoon nodded with a reassuring smile. “You’re home now–all of you. That’s all that matters.”
“All because of my beautiful mate.” Taehyung grinned, moving to give your cheek a kiss. 
“No words will ever be able to express how much it means to have them all back home.” Yeontan bowed his little doggie head. “Welcome to the world of magic.”
Taehyung had introduced you to his parents and the rest of his family. They all gave you their thankful wishes and hugs that signaled how much they truly missed their son. It was tearful to hear Taehyung explain to his siblings what had happened to his wings but they still hugged him to make him feel better. 
Once things settled down, Taehyung had decided to take you to where his grandparents were resting. He said they would have loved you so much. He was someone who grew up with his grandparents much like how you had. You figured that if the day came when you would lose your grandfather you would feel the same sentiment as Taehyung. 
“Your world is very beautiful.” You spoke softly, sitting on a stone bench that overlooked Taehyung’s family’s crypt. “I love it so much.”
“Enough to stay?” Taehyung said out of no where. 
“Stay?” You question, turning to look at him.
“With us.” He hummed, facing you directly. “Here.” He added. “Be our mate.” He took your hands into his, fingers intertwined together as he gave you a hopeful look. 
“But—” You immediately said, not processing his words just yet.
“It's not that different from your world!” Taehyung began to defend his reasoning. “I'm sure you'll fit right in. And work? Don't worry about it! I'm sure Bang Nim can find you something.”
You grinned, eyes drifting to his lips as you watched him ramble on about the things you could do in their world. You cut him off though when he began to speak about how things would work out living with all seven of them, hand on his cheek to make him look at you.
“I have to think about it.” You smiled. 
“I hope you say yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Taehyung said quietly. “I love you too much to let you go.” He whispered, leaning closer to brush his lips against yours. 
You smiled into the kiss, pulling him forward to press your lips fully into him. Pulling back, you kept your forehead against his, noses brushing together. 
“I love you too, Taehyung.”
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Series Masterlist
@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee ,  @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @belikejk , @thatonedemigodfromseoul , @woozixo,
128 notes · View notes
plutowon · 5 months
Text
enhypen as mythical / supernatural
creatures ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
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pairing: enhypen x gn!reader
genre: fantasy, fluff
warnings: blood mention, fantasy violence, reader is somewhat described as short ?
happy halloween!!
🍰 ೄ🩰ྀ࿐ 🧸ˊˎ-
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heeseung- banshee
  heeseung was always emotional. 
  that’s how you met him.
  sitting atop of the old hill in the town park he cried and wailed with flowers clutched in his hands. you being the kind and gentle spirit you were, went up to ask him what was wrong, to which he responded “i don’t know”. usually when people see heeseung they don’t mistake him for human. your approach startled him a bit, even more so when you grabbed his cold dead hands and drew him into a hug. 
  you run your fingers through his hair and tell him everything is gonna be okay. then, you took him out to eat. of course you two got a few stares—holding hands with a banshee tends to draw in attention—but you seemed not to notice. you hold his hand and listen to his sorrows. you caress his cheek and you don’t flinch at the lack of body heat, paying no mind to the coldness that surely makes your hands freeze slightly.
  mourning death all his life, he finds your kindness and comfort refreshing.
  your boyfriend is a bit pessimistic. he looks at the glass half empty rather than half full. like when you watched coraline for the first time and he cried for half the movie believing there was no way she’d make it out of the beldam‘s hands alive. or when he sulked for half a day because he felt the sad lady from next door would never find love, resulting in the death of her love life. you told him to keep his head up and a week later, she comes into your home, bringing cookies and talking about a handsome man she met two nights prior. heeseung supposes there are some happy endings. but even so, he’s sweet and sings you songs all the time. his favorite thing to do is sing you lullabies and watch your sleep consume you. you look so beautiful while you dream, he wishes he could be in your dreams with you. he wonders what you dream about. he wonders if your dreams are as beautiful as you are. you like to take him on happy adventures and show him the world is not as bleak and depressing as it seems. you did make the mistake of taking him to a theme park, more specifically the rollercoaster, where he cried and called it a big death and torture machine. even if you left him outside he refused to let you ride it by yourself, certain that you’d fly out and die (he saw it on the news). needless to say that was the last time you went to six flags…disney world was fun though! you try to make him try new things as much as possible. heeseung finds it exciting. he looks forward to your little rendezvous. 
  he still cries and wails, mourns death every sunday at the top of the old hill, but after all his pain and anguish has been tossed into the atmosphere, he comes home to your warm and loving arms, where you hold him with love.
jay- ghost
  you knew your house was haunted. you knew the moment you walked in with the realtor.  would that stop most people from renting a house? absolutely. did it stop you? no.
  the house was dirt cheap and you really needed a place to stay after your ex boyfriend kicked you out of the house. your parents are 900 miles away and you’ll be damned if a little ghost made you sleep in boxes on the street until you could get a plane ticket.
  jay’s first attempt to scare you ended in a scoff. you laughed at him. how insulting. but it doesn’t get any better when he ramps up the scare factor. he’ll get you to jump, maybe a tiny shriek, only for you to come back and be like “wow that one was really good you’re getting better” with a smile etched into your face. seriously, what the hell was wrong with you? why was it so hard to scare you out of his house? he tried everything from making your dishes fly to making the lights flicker to making you see visions of dead people but nothing worked. he even flinged your knives into the wall (not that he would ever physically hurt you but perhaps if you thought he would you’d finally leave…you did not).
  one night though, he shows you his face through the bathroom mirror. instead of a scream, you swoon, clasping your hands together across your chest. you call him handsome and beg to see him again. you beg for days and days. it tires him out, so he appears again. he’s much taller than you, which has you giggling and twirling your hair before you offer him a shy “hi”. he thinks you’re insane.
  your ghost boyfriend has now devoted his already dead life to protecting you from other supernatural entities. once, a goblin came into your house unannounced and…well jay didn’t take too kindly to that. he gets jealous when you have friends over. perhaps it’s the fact that your friends have physical bodies to touch you. not that you can’t feel his touch, but it’s not the same. he also just doesn’t like mortals entering his property, and he’s now extended that possessiveness to you. he’s still sweet though. watches over you while you sleep to make sure no demons come by. most creatures that come by don’t expect jay to be so tough and intimidating–he’s just a ghost–but they always end up leaving the house in fear, trembling. he has a habit of sneaking up on you to tickle you, the sound of your laughter that once filled him with rage now fills him with glee. he wishes he could feel you better, but still, he loves the touch of your skin. his favorite time to see you is in your dreams, where you are both on equal planes. he can feel your soft hands, kiss your pretty lips, and have normal dates with you. it’s also great that he can defy laws of reality.
  jay has been dead for years and years now, but having you in his home makes him feel alive once more.
jake- angel
  you meet jake while he’s on a thrilling adventure exploring the mortal world. he bumps into you at the mall, knocking you over. of course, being the literal angel that he is, he helps you up. you’re just a small fragile human—he could’ve killed you for goodness sake! (he couldn’t have but he still believes he could’ve)— he calls you gorgeous, as he failed to realize that most humans tend to restrain from saying every thought that comes to their mind, no matter how good the thought may be. but to his luck, you blush and say thank you and he thinks you’re the cutest flower he’s ever seen. you give him your number on the back of a receipt and jake is too ecstatic to realize…ah…he doesn’t have a phone.
  he buys one just for you though! and after that you two are inseparable. jake being the literal angel that he is, takes care of you like his life depends on it. your sick? jake’s here. hard time with school? jake’s here. your friend’s being a bitch? jake will be there to listen intently to allll your drama, and not just because he’s a little nosy. 
  of course, he’s begged god to make him your guardian angel, to which god reluctantly agreed, so long as he does not take his guardian duties too far or too lightly. there’s also monthly check-ins with the head guardian angels to make sure jake doesn’t go too far. you ask him if it’s too much of a burden, to which he smiles and tells you he couldn’t be happier.
  he’s still a bit naive when it comes to humans. he doesn’t often think that human beings can be so cruel and evil, but when he witnesses this firsthand, he’s worried about you! what if you fall victim to these cruel and heinous creatures! his fragile little flower…he’d never forgive himself. he protects you with his life. he asks you a great many questions about human beings and their history, what they’re like and such. you think it’s cute. jake is so sweet it makes your teeth ache.
 the first time he shows you his wings you’re in awe of the way they span across his back. they’re big enough to be a makeshift shield. his beautiful pure white feathers are soft to the touch. you run your fingers along the point in which his wings sprout from his back only for jake to laugh and fall to the floor. ah, he’s ticklish. he loves to hold you with his wings and shield you from the world. just the two of you together. per his guiding duties, he’s a little bossy. he tries to steer you away from bad decisions and protect your pure innocent eyes from seeing horrendous things, which you appreciate, but you also wish he would let you go crazy and stupid. you know, for the plot.
  your cute angel boyfriend may think you to be the most delicate dove in the whole world, but you also can’t help but hold him close to prevent him from flying away. he holds you against him with his wings covering over you so you can rest easy. he’s not going anywhere.
sunghoon- siren
  sunghoon has no intention of drawing anybody into his waters, but when he sees you on the sand he can’t help but stare. when you lock eyes with him, he knows it’s wrong to tempt and tease you, but he’s selfish by nature and he wants you all to himself. you must forgive him for this.
  you are his most valuable treasure.
  when you’ve submerged yourself into the water and make it to his arms, he sings to you. he holds you tightly and carries you across the waves and you both fall in love together in the deep, salty waters that you don’t even realize you’re in right now. he brings you back to the sand, kisses your legs and hands all the way up to you forehead, but your lips are left lonely. he makes you a promise. till death do you part and you shall see him again.
  surprisingly enough, the next time you see sunghoon is on land with two legs. of course, you question him and he laughs at your innocence, “yes, my love, i can walk”. the shocked expression on your face is too cute. he kisses your nose and you shyly hide yourself in his chest. he finds the way your cheeks heat up magical. sunghoon is a siren that hides upon humans before he makes his way back to his home sweet home, the chilling sea.
  dating sunghoon obviously entails walks on the beach while the sun sets. he loves watching the moon rise with you, loves the way you look when the light hits your pretty face. he always sings you songs. karaoke at least twice a week is definitely a must. he loves hearing your voice too, whether you’ve been singing for 15 years or 5 months, he loves it. he loves to tease you. loves the way he can fluster you just by staring at you for a bit too long. it gives him a huge ego boost. the way you melt into his touch makes him sore, he feels like he’s become a creature of the land, sea, and sky. when he does go back into his waters, he misses you. longs for the hours in which he can see you again. he loves when you visit him so he can swim with you and hold you for just a bit longer. you find that sunghoon likes to be up at night. you find that usually he comes to you in the late afternoon or at night. he brings you beautiful jewelry and treasures. pearl necklaces and pearl embroidered dresses. gorgeous hand held mirrors and diamond earrings. how he obtained the items is something you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about. he loves to spoil you rotten. when you do see him during the day, he just wants to cuddle up against you and rest.
  being lovers of different domains is hard, but to sunghoon, loving you is the easiest thing he’s ever done. to him, you’re more valuable than all the jewels in the world combined. 
sunoo- dragon
  you should not be in this cavern alone all by yourself. this you know, but cannot bring yourself to care. you’re far too curious to stop now. but when you’re deep into the cavern, you see something glow in the distance. you walk closer, too close, and you hear a loud growl. which makes you jump back. there that stares as you is a fierce dragon. he inches closer and closer to you as you tremble in fear. he asks what you’re after, to which you panicked and told him you were just nosy and thought this was where your peers were meeting to share their secrets.
  he looks at you quizzically and sighs before he turns into a much smaller man.
  although he’s still bigger than you, almost towers over you and his shoulder span is twice as big as yours, it’s still much less anxiety-inducing than a big fire breathing dragon.
  especially because he’s gorgeous.
  he gives you a death glare that has your knees weak. he rolls his eyes at your shameless display of attraction before he takes your hand and pulls you, guiding you out of the cavern. to sunoo’s surprise, you keep talking. you ask him questions, ask him about what he does, tell him about your life, and sunoo would like to say he doesn’t care, but he does. a lot. when he leads you out, you promise him you’ll be back. he gives no visible reaction, but inside he smiles a little bit. your warm his heart.
  your boyfriend would describe human beings as incompetent and selfish beings—minus you, of course—and you tell him he should be more open minded, but sunoo has dealt with (and severely injured) a great many humans that don’t know their place. you think it’s cute. you call him your hot emo boyfriend, something sunoo thinks is annoying and corny but he endures it for you. he’s snappy, takes no shit. he’s more patient with you, but the average worthless human being that tried it with him? it takes everything in him not to burn their eyebrows off. thank god he has you. if not, he’d probably burn your city to the ground. he’s also grateful, but concerned that you find his temper attractive. perhaps he should send you to a therapist.
  his favorite thing is when you think you’re being sneaky and you creep in his cavern while he’s sleeping and slip yourself between his body and his tail and cuddle up against him, falling asleep until he wakes you up. he finds it adorable. he loves to guard you with his tail. loves how safe and secure you feel around him. despite what others might think, sunoo is incredibly caring. before you leave the house he makes sure you’ve got yourself together. tidies up and smooths out your clothes, tucks your hair behind you ear if it’s down and makes sure it’s out of your face. he cooks for you, cleans with you, and makes sure you’re safe and happy.
  although sunoo usually hates being disturbed, he’s glad you woke him up that day. because of you, he always has something to look forward to. and if he can help it, for the rest of your day’s you’ll always have someone to protect you…and someone to burn the hair off your enemies.
jungwon- fairy
  the leaves and sticks crunch beneath your feet and you find a place in the forest where the sun’s light seems to beam down brighter than the rest of the forest. the sun feels nice on your skin. you take in the smooth air and breath out, content.
  when you turn around, you see a man with beautiful translucent wings that glitter yellow, but the tips of his wings are pink. he looks at you wide eyed. his smiles before he runs up to you, taking you in his arms and spinning you around, “oh my god, a human! you’re sososososososo cute~~”, he goes on and on excitedly. he sits you on his lap, inspecting every aspect of you from your cute little nose to your pretty eyes to how ticklish you are. you truly are the most adorable thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. unfortunately–or fortunately, i should say–because of fairies interest in humans, he’s decided that you are his human and his only, like a little kitten he gets to love and take care of! it’s a dream come true. 
  he takes you deeper into his side of the forest, where jungwon’s fairy friends come up to you both and ask about you in awe. when they try to touch you though, he swats them away and hisses at them…you had no idea fairies had fangs… .when you tell him you must go home, his face falls for a second before he smiles again and says you may go, so long as he get to go with you. and when his wings flutter happily and he’s bouncing, how could you say no?
  although jungwon has declared that you are his cute little human that he shall protect and care for, outside of the forest, you find yourself being the one watching over him. you no longer allow candy in the house because if it’s in a 10 mile radius jungwon will eat it all, resulting in a very sugar high fairy bouncing off your walls. before jungwon had a concept of human society, he went inside of a candy store and ransacked the place…never had you imagined yourself in a police station like this. it didn’t help that jungwon kept asking the cops about scary criminal stories and why and what a taser was for. they ended up letting him go on a warning. being around a lot of humans is also very exciting for jungwon…but he had no concept of personal space. he used to go up to random people and inspect them, pointing out his observations to you. he did this especially when he saw pretty humans, which made you a little jealous but he assured you that you were the prettiest, most adorable human in the world. 
  in the forest, he is much more protective and possessive. no other fairy is allowed within 10 feet of you and touching you is a crime punishable by death. though, he doesn’t like other humans touching you either, he’s more lenient with them. one unlucky human tried to kiss your cheek and almost got his face bitten off…never happened again. and of course, he takes you flying across the sky.
  to jungwon, you are the most precious thing in the world, his most prized possession from the moment he met you. and although he believes your his little baby, you know he’s just as much your baby as you are his.
niki- vampire
  niki is very clumsy for a vampire, if he’s being honest.
  he’s trying hard to beat the edward allegations, but perhaps he should learn how to prioritize because while he’s growling and tearing up in the woods, ripping bark off trees to chew on to dull the ache in his teeth he makes eye contact with a very pretty person, watching him in awe. awkwardly, he spits the bark out of his mouth, his glowing red eyes still looking at you. he tries to think of anything to ease the tension, so he asks you if you come here often. to his surprise, you say yes. you ask why he’s chewing tree bark to which he, embarrassed, says “i’m teething..”
  you coo.
  you come up to him and ask to see his fangs. you ask him if it hurts. he kicks the dirt under his shoes and nods. he licks them and takes a blood substitute for kids box out of his pocket.
  you think he’s so cute. he thinks it’s annoying how you’re cooing at him when you’re a foot shorter than him but he loves the positive attention. you drag him to a target. he notes how small your hand is in his and squeezes it a little harder. you take him to the wooden spoons. you give him one to chew on and take him back to the checkout, where you scan it out and pay. now he shouldn’t have to rip the bark off trees. niki promises to repay you, writing his phone number in your phone before he takes off because his mom was gonna kill him for being out at 1 in the morning.
  niki loves to visit you at your window at night. he’ll tap on it lightly and wait for you to answer. he asks how you are, if you’re safe and if any other vampires have tried to mess with you, to which you giggle and tell him no. he loves to sit and cuddle with you, of course he prefers to be big spoon, but if you pout and say please he’ll give you anything you ask, even if little spoon is embarrassing for him. you spend a good amount of time teasing him, but when he teases you back, suddenly, you’re quiet and he loves it. he loves to pinch your cheeks and carry you on his back. he loves knowing you can depend on him. niki’s very soft with you so you often forget he possesses superhuman strength. a man made the mistake of putting his arm around you and ended up in the hospital with broken ribs once… .he gets shy asking if he can feed off you. he feels bad about it even when you assure him it’s fine. after he’s done, he makes sure you’re taken care of. licks your wounds to the speed up the healing process and gives you a little snack with juice before he cuddles you and soothes you to sleep.
  niki’s very clumsy for a vampire, but his love and devotion to you comes to him as naturally as breathing does. he will love you till the end of time.
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whatsnewalycat · 2 months
Text
Psychomanteum / Chapter 17
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)
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Chapter 17: I'll Be Your Mirror
Chapter Summary: Fin.
Word Count: 6.0k+
Content / Warnings: listen if you made it this far you know what it is
Notes: Chapter title from “I'll Be Your Mirror" by Nico and The Velvet Underground. Ok I know I said there would be an Epilogue, but I decided... I really love it as is. This story is my baby and the feeling of finishing it is so bittersweet. Thank you to everyone who has ever given me the encouragement to feel this story is special. There are so many of you, I don't even know where to start. You know who you are.
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“Dee?”
He looks up from the notebook in his hand and goes still. 
To say that your heart skips a beat when he meets your gaze is an understatement. 
It freezes, along with everything else in the universe. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You’re almost certain the Earth stops turning. 
Is he angry? Relieved? Shocked? 
You can’t tell. 
But then his tensed muscles go slack. His hunched shoulders drop from his ears. Glossy, pained eyes melting wide into wonderment. 
“Lua?” 
Hearing your name on his lips makes your stomach flip into free fall. Your pulse jumps. A sound escapes your chest that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh.
He drops the notebook and strides towards you.
You can only take one step forward before he’s pushing your back to the door, lips pressed against yours. His hands slip around your waist and pull your body flush to his while you comb your fingers through his hair. He groans into your mouth, tongue rolling soft on yours as you whine at how fucking perfect it feels. 
Unzipping your jacket, Dieter pulls back and rasps hot against your cheek, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I thought I fucking lost you.” 
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your foreheads together as he strips off your jacket, “It was stupid, I shouldn’t have left like that—”
“Later,” he murmurs, shrugging off his fuzzy coat, then brings his mouth to your pulse and sucks the thin skin so hard you gasp, gripping his broad shoulders to bring him closer. 
His hands slip under your shirt—his shirt, actually, you stole it from a laundry basket before leaving his house—and he slides his heated palms against your bare skin. With a chuckle, he looks down at the garment and says, “You little thief.” 
You bite your lip and shrug, flicking your eyes around his face. 
“God, I missed you,” he grins, dimples and all.
“I missed you, too.”
Both your faces fade from amusement to something heavier as you study each other. Heat flickers at the middle of you when he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek. Your gaze dips to his mouth when he murmurs, “Don’t you dare leave me again.”
“I won’t—”
“Please.”
“I promise I won’t.” 
You meet his eyes so he can see how much you mean it, stroking the soft whiskers on his jawline with your thumb, “I love you, Dieter. I love you so fucking much.” 
His warm gaze flicks all over your face, “I love you, too.” 
Your throat thickens. You try to swallow down the discomfort before asking, “Are you mad?” 
“Mad?” 
You nod.
“No,” he scoffs, gently taking your hand to kiss each of your fingertips. 
It’s reverent, the way he does this. Worshipful. Like he’s thanking every piece of you for existing. 
He clears his throat. Pain creases his forehead, making his dark eyes go all gooey soft when he whispers, “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I’d find you dead or alive.”
It hits you hard. Right in the heart. 
You let out a guilty squeak. Your face crumbles. Tears cloud your vision, distorting him. You draw a shattered breath before responding. 
“I was going to do it. I was going to, umm,” you avert your eyes and shake your head, “I was gonna drown myself, Dee. I had everything ready, but… I couldn’t.”
A sob bursts from your belly. 
His body tenses and he pulls back ever so slightly, as if he were seconds away from calling off the conversation. But you stay firmly planted. You link your hands behind his neck and meet his tear-brimmed eyes with your own. When you speak, your voice trembles with honesty. 
“I thought that I was supposed to die. That my being here was a mistake, or like I was cursed or something. Destined to destroy your life if I stayed in it. I didn’t want to do that to you. But also,” you swallow hard and search his face, “I didn’t know if I could trust you not to break me like he did. I didn’t know if I could trust myself not to break you, either. I was so afraid… of everything. Of all the possibilities. Of not knowing what would happen.” 
The way he looks at you—shoulders slumped, jaw set, eyes all dewy with sorrow—it’s fucking torture. But you continue. 
“I was so afraid of everything… except dying. Dying felt like the best option.” 
Dieter sobs. It crushes your ribcage to dust. You have to keep going, though. You need him to understand that you mean this. 
“But I realized—just now, before you got here, like,” you laugh with bemusement and shake your head, “Immediately before you got here, your timing is truly blowing my fucking mind right now—”
He chuckles and wipes at his damp face. You smile, tilting your head at him. 
“I realized that… I was being a fucking coward. You’re not Ethan and I’m not Anika, and you and I… we’re something different. Dee, our love feels big the way the universe feels big. It’s never-ending and always growing and it is fucking forever. To turn my back on something like that would be… well, it would be fucking blasphemy.”
He smiles back at you, grip digging into your waist to bring you closer. 
You cup his cheeks and tell him, “There will be good days and bad, but I know that I will never regret choosing to stay.”
He stares at you with so much love and awe your chest aches. You can’t stop yourself from beaming at him. 
“No matter what the future has in store for us, I know that it will be worth spending every second I can with you in this beautiful, painful, amazing life.” 
His smile widens and he shakes his head, choking out, “Fuck, how do I follow that up?” 
You laugh, this soggy, wet laugh and bury your face in his shirt, then mumble against his chest, “You don’t have to, love, I just needed to tell you.” 
“Thank you,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. 
“For what?”
“For staying. For sharing with me, trusting in me—trusting in us. Without you… I don’t know. Everything is fucking stupid and meaningless. You make me a better me. And I need you. So. Thank you.” 
Your heart swells. 
“You make me a better me, too.” 
He pulls back to look at you, the warmth of his gaze sticking all over your face. Heat glints behind his eyes when they drop to your mouth. 
Something profound throbs between you. Newborn with shaky legs, taking its first breath. Intentional, fearless certainty. 
You kiss him, hard and purposeful, and he responds with fervor, the tips of his fingers digging into the tender skin of your waist. His tongue slides soft and wet and hot against yours, a slick writhing that hypnotizes you. Between the gentle crush of lips and nips from teeth and quiet whimpers that echo back and forth, you get lost in him. 
Time and space slip away and this kiss becomes the only thing you long to feel.
Dieter pushes your back flush to the cool door, warm hands exploring the tender skin beneath your shirt. His shirt. His skin. 
His his his—
He cups your breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The tedious touch sends a rush of need through your body. Whining into his mouth, you slide your nails down the expanse of his back, beckoning him closer, wordlessly begging for more. 
Of course, he gives it to you. 
Of course he pinches your nipples so hard you gasp, then tugs even harder. 
Of course he activates something primal deep within your brain, making you hiss, “Fuck yes.” 
“Does that feel good, baby? Hmm?”
“Yes—”
“Good,” he husks.
One hand unclamps. It slips under the waistband of your pants and slides down between your thighs, down to the hot, slick middle of you, where it rubs all those attention-starved nerves and makes them fucking purr. 
Your breath hitches in your throat. 
“Mmmm, how about that?” 
“So fucking good, Dee,” you moan, nodding your head in vehement approval as you arch your hips towards him, “Oh my god, yes.” 
Pulsing heat creeps up your spine, making your mouth go slack and lids drift closed. 
“Look at me.” 
Your eyes snap open to meet his. He searches your face with intensity, watching you twist up with pleasure, and drops his gaze to your lips when your panting becomes tainted with whimpers. 
“You’re so fucking hot I can’t stand it,” he mutters, shaking his head, “God, I wanna fuck you.” 
“Oh my god, please—”
“You want me to fuck you?” He releases his tight grip on your tit to stroke your cheek, his low voice almost a growl, “Hmm? Want me to fill your tight pussy?” 
“Yes—”
“Yeah?”
“Yes yes yes please, I wanna feel your cock inside me, Dieter I fucking need it please—”
“I want you to come for me first,” he works you faster, pressing his forehead against yours as he coos, “Can you do that for me, baby? Come all over my fucking hand?”
His request gushes hot down your spine. You gasp and nod frantically, then choke out a throaty moan as heat starts to branch out inside you. Your heart pounds hard and fast in your chest, white-hot need overflowing your veins and pooling thick between your legs, pulsing and growing, stronger, wider, pushing you up up up up—
It overtakes you. Rips you into a million pieces and puts you back together again. 
Your legs clamp shut. You twitch and whimper and gasp as his touch softens and slows. 
It doesn’t stop entirely, though. 
Just a gentle, languid back and forth that persists through ebbing aftershocks, assuring you he’s not done with you yet. 
Dieter rests his forehead against yours, breath warm on your parted lips when he says, “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”
You let out a dreamy chuckle, hooking your hands behind his neck.
And, fuck, his fingers feel so good. Sliding up and down, spreading your slick in a gentle manner, teasing but patient. So fucking patient. 
“I mean it. You are… amazing. I love every single thing about you.” 
He dips a thick fingertip in your entrance, sending a heady rush of need through your body, then drags it out to draw slow circles around your clit. His touch prods the glowing embers in your belly. They smolder beneath your skin and make your heart race. 
“Oh my god, Dee—”
“Even the parts you don’t think I want. I want it all, Lua. Forever. I never want to wake up without you by my side again.”
“I’m yours,” you breathe, “Forever and ever until I’m nothing, Dee, I’m fucking yours—”
His lips crush into yours. You moan into his mouth, accepting the warm caress of his tongue, urgent against yours. Between your thighs, he rocks his hand against you hard, then slips a digit inside you. 
Head rolling back onto your shoulders, you gasp, “Jesus fuck.”
“So fucking ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he laughs, delirious and breathy, then takes a step back, removing himself from your body completely. 
The loss sends you reeling. Like a puppy, you glob onto him, not wanting to part from him for a second. 
Regarding your desperation with a smirk, he takes your hand, “Come on.” 
You follow along behind him, grinning at the way he carries himself with authority, striding through the cabin like this has been his residence for the past few days, not yours. 
When you cross the threshold into a bedroom, he turns to ask, “This one ok?”
Nodding, you push him back towards the bed and tug at his clothes, a silent plea he quickly grants. You mirror his actions, stripping down to nothing as he sits down on the edge of the bed and stares up at you, all fuck-me-eyes and parted lips. 
“You’re so fucking hot,” you coo, slotting yourself between his knees, combing your nails through his hair, “Looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes. I love it.” 
His eyelids flutter and his cock twitches. A little bead of pre-cum sprouts up at the tip. 
You lick your lips and smirk, wrapping your hand around his girth, gasping when you smear the swollen droplet with the pad of your thumb. 
Dieter groans, grabbing your waist. He twitches again. 
You pull back his foreskin, forming an ‘o’ with your mouth when more of the viscous liquid slips against your thumb. 
You think about how it might taste, salty and hot on your tongue. You think about his hard, smooth length stretching out your lips, soaking wet with drool as he fucks your face. 
“If you keep looking at it like that I’m gonna blow my fucking load,” he mutters, burying his face between your breasts. 
When you respond by churning your grip, a moan vibrates against your sternum. As if he can’t help himself, Dieter slides his hands up your body and grabs your tits. 
He takes one in his mouth, then the other, sucking and licking and biting your swollen nipples while you work him, slow and meticulous. His muffled whines stoke your desire, flames hot and tingling up your spine. 
Looking up at you with big doe eyes, he flattens his tongue against your nipple, then moves his head from side-to-side. 
“That feels fucking amazing, Dee, oh my god,” you pant, drawing your brows together as you nod in approval at the heated sensation that clings to your bones. 
Arousal urges you to pump him faster, and when you do, he husks, “Fuck, Lua—”
“Hmm?”
“Please.”
The tips of his fingers dig into your waist and he scoots further back onto the bed, ushering you onto his lap, “Wanna feel that sweet pussy wrapped around me, please, baby, please.”
Your knees settle on either side of his hips and you fold forward, smoothing your hands up his broad chest, to his neck, then you cup his cheeks. He searches your face, wild-eyed and desperate. 
“I love seeing you like this,” you purr, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip, “So fucking needy.”
He groans and his hips jerk, the tip of him nudging up against your entrance. You tease him with it, letting him feel how hot and wet you are without allowing access. 
“Do you want my pussy, baby? Or do you need it?”
“I need it,” he rasps, the tendons in his neck going taut he grips your hips with bruising strength, “I’ll fucking die if I don’t feel it, I swear to god, please—”
You lower yourself down slowly, whimpering at the exquisite stretch that reverberates through you. 
His back arches off the mattress and he groans, “Fffffuck yes. Holy fucking shit, Lua—”
“So fucking good, oh my god,” you croak, rolling your hips.  
You take him slow at first, savoring the way he fills you so perfectly, how he rubs along every tingling nerve inside you. Beneath you, Dieter pants and writhes, devout hands roaming your humid skin, worshiping you.
“Jesus fucking Christ, I love you,” he pants, thrusting up into you so hard and deep you moan. He lets out a gasping chuckle, then drives his hips up again, and again, and again.
You nod in approval. Thick static bubbles at your center. You press your forehead against his, pushing back against his thrusts as they establish a steady rhythm. 
“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” 
“Wanna spend—fuck,” you whimper, nodding again, “Wanna the rest of my life with you.” 
“Wanna marry you, make you my wife—”
Still nodding, you choke out, “Yes, oh my fucking god yes—”
“Would you like that? Hmm? Get you a pretty dress and a ring? Show the whole world that I’m yours and you’re mine?”
“I want it, Dee, I do. I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—“
He captures your lips and pounds into you, hard and fast, exchanging moans with you like vows, vibrating on your tongue as the tingling heat in your belly stretches wider, climbing up your body, swelling and swelling, pulling your muscles tight, until you find yourself suspended in a moment you both never want to end and don’t think you can stand any longer. 
Then, it bursts. 
You sob when the wave of pleasure washes over and under you, making this sick wet sucking noise as your whole body convulses around him. 
Dieter whines against your mouth, fucking up into your fluttering cunt with crazed, frantic thrusts. He goes rigid and silent for a second, then releases a guttural noise from his chest. 
When his breath returns to him and his muscles start to slacken, you meet his eyes with a grin that spreads to his lips. 
You kiss him, slow and deep, then go limp on his chest, “I love you.” 
“I love you.”
The two of you stay here for a while, content and rubber-limbed. His fingertips trace the scar tissue on your shoulder and arm while sand gathers heavy on your eyelids. 
“I haven’t been able to sleep,” you mumble into the damp crook of his neck, “Not sober, at least. Now you’re here and we have so much to talk about.” You yawn, “And I’m so tired.”  
He kisses the crown of your head, then gently persuades you to roll off him onto the mattress. Like a sleepy child, helplessly lethargic and too engrossed in comfort to do it yourself, you let him pull the bedspread out from beneath you and tuck you between the sheets. 
The warmth of his skin presses up against yours as he drapes an arm over your belly and tugs you close. When he speaks, his breath is warm on your cheek, voice low and quiet. 
“Get some rest, love. We can talk more tomorrow.” 
His offer is tempting, but one question nags at the back of your brain and gives you a small burst of energy. 
You roll onto towards him, blinking your weighted eyes open to meet his, all gooey and soft as they search your face. 
“Did you mean it?” 
A mischievous smirk plays on his lips, “What, that I wanna marry you?” 
You nod. 
“Yeah,” he grins and grabs your hand to kiss your palm, then holds it to his cheek, “What about you? Did you mean it? Do you wanna marry me?”
For some reason, your cheeks get hot and you laugh. The noise is water-logged, struggling against the tears that burn up your throat and blur your vision.
“Yeah, I really fucking do.” 
These aren’t the kinds of tears you’re used to crying. They’re celebratory. Joyous. You find yourself unable to stop smiling through them. 
“This is crazy,” you tell him, shaking your head, “I love you so much it’s fucking crazy.” 
“I love you,” he smiles and brings your hand to his chest, pressing your palm against the thump-thump of life and light and love, “Do you feel that?”
“Your heart?”
He nods, “That’s yours. ‘Til my last breath, then after. It’s yours.” 
Dieter listens to the peaceful dozing huffs that blow hot across his chest, cherishing each and every one. 
He savors the heat of your body on his, the blood pumping through your veins, and the flutter of REM behind your closed eyelids. Proof that you are here, alive and safe in his arms. An answer to his desperate prayers. 
Something like relief but bigger engulfs him. 
Warmth tingles through his limbs and tears sting behind his eyes. His throat gets all thick with emotion as he pulls your pliant body closer, pressing a kiss against your forehead. 
Careful not to be too loud, he whispers, “Thank you.” 
He’s not sure who he’s thanking. You or fate or whatever omnipresent puppeteer pulls the strings behind the scenes. He just knows he means it with his whole heart. 
Dieter lays here for some time, live-wired with optimism, thinking up a million ways to convey the intensity of his gratitude. His mind wanders into tomorrow and buzzes with anticipation. He gets to tell you about his impromptu trip to New York, and that your charges are dropped. 
Goosebumps prick his skin as a realization dawns on him. 
You don’t even know. 
When deciding to stay, you factored in the consequences of these charges. Your devotion to him was not because of this resolution, but in spite of it. 
You had every single reason to doubt this would work. Probable prison time. Shrapnel from the fame machine. Ongoing recovery. The ugly demise of his marriage. The tragic end to yours.
Fuck, it’s a shit show. 
And yet, here you are. 
He gazes down at you, far away in dreamland, cheek pressed against the rise and fall of his chest. All angel-faced, but with a little drool at the corner of your mouth. Fucking beautiful. 
On one hand, he could stay here watching you sleep like a fucking stalker for hours. On the other, his stomach growls for attention. 
When he contemplates whether or not to untangle himself from you and tend to this need, you let out a little grumble, then start wiggling around, rolling away from him. He misses the heat of your body as soon as it’s gone, but lets you go anyway. 
He carefully gets out of bed and wanders through the dark cabin into the kitchen. 
The cupboards are essentially barren, which is both disappointing and unsurprising, but he finds some bread and drops a couple slices into the toaster. While guzzling down a tall glass of iron-flavored water, he notices piles of towels and blankets stacked on the kitchen counter. This piques his curiosity. 
To put it lightly, you are an incredibly neat and tidy person. Normally you wouldn’t allow this kind of disorder in your living space, however temporary. He should know. Last week you pulled the clothes out of his dresser and gave him a tutorial on how to fold “the right way” before organizing the acrylic paints in his studio by hue. 
Your need for order only increases when you’re distressed, which you definitely were, so… what the fuck is up with this? 
When he rounds the countertop peninsula to investigate, something catches his eye. Big slabs of wood propped up next to a door in the hallway. The door sits ajar, the crack emitting a warm golden glow. 
His footsteps creak across the wooden floor as he approaches it. Somehow he knows what he’ll find when he opens the door, and releases an amused chuckle when his suspicions are confirmed. 
Dark fabric draping the walls. A dimmed-down lantern propped up behind a makeshift seat. The seat, a makeshift nest of pillows and blankets, faces a mirror. 
You built a psychomanteum. 
Something tugs at his memory, causing him to turn on his heel and walk towards the couch. He picks up the notebook he discarded when you walked through the door and revealed yourself. 
He studies the page in abstract, catching little glimpses here and there. Words like unrecognizable and hopeless and monster. Fragments like swerving around traffic, and crying, begging.
Some sentences stand out so much, he can’t help but snag on them. 
It was over, I couldn’t do it anymore.
He called me a bitch. A rat.
It didn’t seem real.
He said we had to do this together.
Far away, the toaster pops. He’s not even hungry anymore. In fact, quite the opposite. He feels fucking sick. 
A smattering of circles distort in the paper, black ink bleeding out from your script as if diffused by tiny droplets of moisture. Probably tears. 
Grotesque curiosity churns beneath his skin. 
He swallows around his thick throat and looks up at the closet. The psychomanteum. 
The first time he tried to read the passage, before he knew you were ok, he was in such a state of panic that he didn’t fully understand what it was. But he understands now. He sees the pieces and how they fit together. 
His stomach twists when he recognizes the pattern laid out before him. His ribcage shrinks two sizes, pushing his pulse to his ears. He runs a hand through his hair and wrings his tight neck as he realizes with horror that he has been a similar kind of monster. 
He knows he had a problem. And it wasn’t as much the drugs or infidelity as it was the emptiness. An infection that set in early and rotted out a cavity in his chest. In his heart. 
He knows it made him change in unspeakable ways, altering the very nature of his character. It made him angry and reckless and fucking ravenous. Starving for anything that would fill him up, however fleeting. 
He was a fucking beast. 
He also knows you love him. Flaws and all, you love him. You had the grace to forgive every unforgivable mistake he made. 
Could Dieter do the same? 
He tosses the notebook down on the coffee table and walks to the closet, opening the door. As he steps inside, he takes the lantern from behind the seat and turns to face him in the mirror. 
He studies the face, recognizing the distinct nose and dark eyes. Mop of messy brown curls atop his head. He looks tired, but hopeful. 
Staring at his reflection, Dieter tells himself, “I forgive you.” 
The first thing you notice when you rouse from sleep is the warmth that surrounds you. 
You feel Dieter’s chest flush to your back, arms wrapped around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your combined body heat under the covers makes your skin stick together. The steady rhythm of his breathing moves in time with yours. 
Before you even open your eyes, you smile. 
Your fingertips twitch against his arm and you try to wiggle even closer, intertwining your legs with his. 
Behind you, Dieter stirs a little, then mumbles into your neck, “G’morning, doll.” 
“Good morning, love.” 
He takes a deep breath in, squeezing you tight, and exhales a groan, “You smell so fucking good what the fuck.”
“I haven’t bathed in days,” you giggle, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair, “I’m stinky.” 
“Bullshit.” 
“You’re bullshit.” 
He laughs this big, boisterous laugh as he rolls onto his back, separating from you save for the arm pinned under your side. 
You miss his heat immediately and turn over to face him, scooting close enough to feel it. His gaze holds pure adoration. Your fingertips meet his and play this sort of dance before he laces your hands together. 
He asks, “Wanna take a bath then go get some grub?” 
Dieter lathers up a washcloth, watching the muscles shift beneath your skin as you rinse the remaining conditioner from your hair with a shower head attachment.
When you turn it off, you glance over your shoulder at him and announce, “I’m probably going to prison.” 
He sits up and presses the steaming washcloth to your back, working suds up the curve of your spine. 
“You’re not going to prison.” 
You relax into his touch and snort, “Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“I took care of it.”
“Wha—wait,” you sit up, then turn around to face him, water sloshing around with you. You furrow your brow and stare at him, “What does that mean?”
“It means the DA dropped the charges against you.” 
Your eyes narrow as you search his face, “Are you fucking with me?”
“I’m dead serious.” 
“How?” 
His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth as he averts his gaze, shrugging, “Let’s just say that, for plausible deniability reasons, it’s best you don’t know anything else.” 
“You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m not!” he laughs, tugging at your waist. You jokingly wrinkle your nose at his affection, but let him pull you into his lap. 
“C’man, sweetheart. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his, then tells you, “I swear to god I’m not fucking with you. You’re clear. A free woman.” 
Your shoulders fall away from your ears. You clamp down on your huge smile, then it breaks free, “Really?”
The way you light up at this news… It is breathtaking. Jesus fucking Christ. Worth every second of misery. 
“Really,” he smiles, cupping your cheek. 
You try to blink away tears with a relieved burst of laughter. You stare at him, glossy eyes all ripe with admiration as they flick around his face, “Thank you.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he murmurs, holding your gaze, “I’d do anything for you, Louella. You know that?”
Your smile gets bigger somehow. You nod, “I do.”
His stomach flips when he imagines you saying those words in front of that ordained minister he saw in his near-death vision. Little details come into focus. He can taste the salt of the ocean and feel heat from the overhead sun. Light filters through a canopy of sheer white fabric. 
The crowd of onlookers is small. Of course, he sees Parker and Darlene and Lincoln. He sees Glenn, looking like a fucking dick as usual, but grinning nonetheless. He sees his brother’s family, the small children all wriggling around in their chairs. He sees a couple, a man and woman around retirement age, that he doesn’t quite recognize, but he understands that they’re Ethan’s parents. He sees his mother dab her eyes with a tissue while his father curls an arm around her shoulders, letting the faintest smile creep across his lips as he watches you slide a wedding band on Dieter’s ring finger. 
Atop your head sits a band of stars, forged from gold and adorned with dazzling crystals that glimmer in the sunlight. Corona Borealis for his Princess of Crete. Your dress is cream-colored chiffon and lace and fucking perfect. You have on that smile, the one that takes up your whole face. The one you’re wearing now. 
You take the washcloth from him and dunk it under the hot, sudsy water, then bring it to his chest. The smile on your lips lingers as you wash, lathering up his skin with tiny iridescent bubbles. 
“What does Darlene think of all this?” you ask, glancing up at him. 
Smoothing his hands around to the small of your back, he shrugs and pulls your slick body closer, “In a personal sense, supportive. She helped a lot actually. Held down the fort while I was in New York.” 
“While you were—” you scoff, shaking your head with an amused grin, “Dieter, what the fuck have you been up to?” 
“Long story, I’ll tell you on the drive home,” he grins. 
“Fine,” you snort and roll your eyes, but fold forward against his chest. His eyes drift closed as he relaxes into the heat of your body pressed to his. Fingertips sliding against his collarbone, you ask, “So the blowback to your career has been minimal?” 
He gulps when he contemplates how to answer, not wanting to scare you into a spiral that sends you running again. But it is what it is. You’ll find out sooner or later anyway. 
“Not… necessarily. It’s been pretty brutal, actually. Mark and Darlene wanted me to throw you under the bus and move on without you, but I refused. So they dropped me.” 
You prop yourself up and frown at him, “I thought you said Darlene—”
“She was helping me find you, Lua. She’s supportive of our relationship as my friend, but…”
Your eyebrow quirks, “The optics are shit?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, searching your surprisingly serene face, “It’s ok, though, you know. You were right, I don’t enjoy it anymore. Acting, I mean. I think I’ve been too scared to try anything else, but… I don’t know. I think I’m ready now. I’m ready for the next chapter of my life.” 
“You could try writing,” you offer as you trace his jawline, “I could find a job at a bakery or something. It’ll be ok. We’ll figure it out, I know we will.” 
He nods, “We will.”
“I love you, Dee,” you say, holding his gaze, “We can do fucking anything together.”
Your certainty hits him square in the chest. 
For him, love always cast a dark shadow of fear that warned him to be distant. Not too eager or enthusiastic. Careful not to be fumbled by the wrong hands and wind up broken. 
It doesn’t feel like that anymore, he thinks. 
Your presence in his life has always been big and blinding. The warmth of your love has blistered his skin more times than he can count. He has dedicated hours upon hours of his life this past year trying to understand your magnitude and longevity, trying to measure the shadow that the fear of losing you cast. The dimensions fluctuated in a non-linear sort of way, waxing and waning with the circumstances surrounding your relationship. 
But now? 
You are the sun at high noon. No fucking shadow in sight. 
“All set?”
“I think so,” you zip up your suitcase and look up at Dieter as he leans against the doorframe. Your stomach growls and you groan, “If we don’t get food soon—” 
“I found a Denny’s about 30 miles away. Open on Christmas.” 
“Thank fucking god.” 
Dieter chuckles and buries his hands in his coat pockets, “Oh, by the way…”
He pulls out a small, familiar sketchpad and hands it to you. Nostalgia spreads warm across your chest as you open the cover and flip through Ethan’s artwork. Each page depicts dark and painful images that tug at your heart, reminding you of how much he was suffering. 
“How did you—?”
“Part of the long story. Tell you on the way home. But, umm… I figured you should have it.” 
You nod, pausing to study a high-contrast illustration that feels different from the previous pages. At first, it just looks like a collection of bold black triangles. The edges and points are crisp. Precise. But as you stare at it, your perspective shifts. The white paper beneath the black ink starts to stand out bright, then rises above the dark hollows. 
When it comes into focus, you gasp. 
It’s a face. 
It’s your face, carved out from negative space. 
“That one’s my favorite,” Dieter tells you, “He, umm… he was really talented.” 
Through your burgeoning tears, you smile, “Yeah. He was great.” 
You tear the portrait from the sketchbook and hand it to Dieter, who asks, “What about the rest?” 
Instead of answering, you step past him and take the sketchbook to the living room, where you lower yourself down in front of the fireplace and open the grate. Dieter follows, sitting down beside you as you tear out the first page and feed it to glowing embers in the hearth. 
Flames crackle to life, burning the paper to ash. 
You give it another. 
And another. 
And another. 
When the sketchbook is just an empty shell, you toss it in. Then Dieter hands you something. You glance it over for a moment, recognizing the painful passage you wrote the night before. You give that to the fire, too. 
He takes your hand and sits there with you while the flames die and return to smolders. 
“How’d that feel?” he asks eventually. 
“Fucking perfect.” 
You turn to him, searching his face, “Thank you.” 
The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk and he squeezes your hand, “Anytime, doll.” 
When you lean in to kiss him, his lips are soft and warm against yours. A sensation swells in your chest, this glowing kaleidoscope of patterns that shifts and twists into a million brilliant images. It feels like forever in the best way. It feels like heaven. 
He pulls back, those big ganache eyes meeting yours, “You ready?” 
“Yeah,” you nod and smile at him, “I’m ready. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Groaning, Dieter climbs to his feet and holds out his hand to you. You accept it, letting him help you up. Your hands stay firmly locked together as he grabs your ratty old suitcase and leads you to the door, out of the dark room and into the bright midday sun.
105 notes · View notes
softxsuki · 7 months
Note
Hey (again)! Ive come back again with another urgent request (sorry) I was wondering if you could do a suicidal reader x nanami the reader is a sorcerer and powers are : they can technically spawn anything from a portal including void swords abd all that stuff - they can also blind their enemies with their powers.
Thank you and even though it is an urgent request take your time and have rest ,sleep and stay healthy (here's a star ⭐ for your hard work) ! My parents are fighting right now and I'm currently upset from the past few days and this 👌 close to giving up but then I remember people that r here for me including you but have a great night and thank you 💞
Nanami with Suicidal S/O
PLEASE DON'T READ IF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE WILL DO YOU MORE HARM THAN GOOD
IF YOU OR ANYONE YOU KNOW IS STRUGGLING WITH THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE, PLEASE REACH OUT FOR HELP.
Pairing: Nanami x Gn!Reader
Warnings: mentions of suicide attempt, wanting to die, reckless abandonment, depression, crying, hopelessness, desperation
Genre: Comfort
Post-Type: Headcanons
Word Count: 730
Summary: In which you're on a mission with Nanami and instead of fighting back, you stop and give the curse a chance to kill you, but not before Nanami steps in to help
[A/N: Hey again! Knowing you came back for another urgent request just is proof enough that you enjoyed my writing and that means a lot! No idea what you're going through in life, but I hope this helps you out, even if it's just a little. I'm here if you ever need someone to talk to <3 hope you enjoy!]
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Nanami:
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Nanami holds your life dearly to him
Your life is precious to him, a life force that he’d never put on the line; he’d sacrifice himself if it meant keeping you alive and well
Loss was a part of his job, he’s already lost countless friends and students, he couldn’t lose you–that would break him
So on one of your missions together when he saw you just stop mid-battle as a curse was seconds away from tearing you apart–he raced into action, adrenaline coursing through him as he ran faster than ever to get you
Your portal was open, it was there for you to easily defeat the lower level curse before you, but you just stood there
That’s when he knew 100% that something was going on with you
He’d seen little signs of it before, like seeing you distance yourself from him little by little, noticing the dark circles under your eyes, your sudden reckless actions, mood swings– all the signs were there, yet you managed to cover it all up so well
It wasn’t until this very moment that it became certain you were trying to die–you were trying to leave him all alone, how would he move forward without you–the love of his life?
This mission was supposed to be simple, he invited you for the sake of spending more time together since you were slowly pushing him farther and farther away
Almost losing you wasn’t in his agenda for the day
He could feel his pulse echoing in his throat as he pulls you away from the curse, quickly exorcizing the last few curses before approaching you
His adrenaline is still racing, so his initial response is rage
“What were you thinking?! Were you really trying to get yourself killed?! Your portal was open, why did you freeze up like that?” He chokes up on his words, falling to his knees before you as tears fall from his eyes, this snaps you out of whatever trance you’re in
You hadn’t seen Nanami so worked up to the point of crying since he lost Haibara back in high school, that’s when you realize what a mistake you almost made
“I-I’m sorry” it’s the only thing you can manage to say to him
He tries to calm himself down, feeling exhaustion hit him from the sudden adrenaline rush
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, I just…I almost lost you. I can’t allow that to happen. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you that you felt like this was your only option, but I can’t lose you, Y/N. I love you so much, you’re my everything, please don’t leave me. Please” he begged, taking your hand in his as he leaves kisses to the back of it, scared to let you go, in fear that he’d never feel the warmth of your hands again, never feel your heart beating against him again…he was terrified
You didn’t think being gone would affect someone so much, sometimes you forgot that you had people in your life that really cared for you, your depression clouding your mind so much
It isn’t until you both go back home and settle down when you open up about your struggles with him
Your internal battles and your troubles at home that all became too much to handle at times
He’d quietly listen to every word you had to say, tracing circles on the back of your hand whenever you stopped speaking at times, finding it difficult to emotionally open up to someone, but he was there. He cared. He really cared
Nanami would ask you what you’d like him to do; of course he’d help in his own way, like asking if you’d like to speak with a professional for help, but if not, he’s more than okay with helping you in any way he can
Moving forward, he keeps a closer eye on you, whether it be holding you more often, inviting you out, staying at home, talking things out–he’d go to the moon and back if it meant helping you feel better and not wanting to leave this world without him
One day at a time–you just need to get through each day one by one, and you’re definitely not alone, he’d be right by your side, taking your hand and walking every step with you
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REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D
Posted: 08/28/2023
279 notes · View notes
indigosunsetao3 · 2 months
Text
Go...Don't Go
Another submission for for @glitterypirateduck's ‘SoapItUp’ challenge.
I just can't stay away. I came into this story just wanting to do something with the "you deserve so much more" prompt and have it be Captain MacTavish. I went with it and wrote it in about two hours.
Title: Go...Don't Go
Pairing: Captain Soap/Reader (female)
Warning: Angst. Anger Issues. Fluff.
Summary: When John comes home it's supposed to be a few days of paradise, but it always turns into fight. This time you both wonder if you can come back from it.
Prompts: "You deserve so much more" "I'm going to marry you"
Word Count: 2.4k
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Another fight. That’s all that seemed to happen these days between the two of you, even with weeks and months of separation due to Soap’s deployments. You yearned to have him home, counted down the days on the small calendar that hung on the fridge and anxiously cleaned the house as if you were nesting leading up to his arrival home. And yet that happy bubble of breathless kisses, holding one another’s hands in the car so tight you thought your knuckles would pop, ended so quick you wondered why you wanted him home in the first place. Then as his next deployment creeped closer, you’d tenuously make up, the fragile truce created as you said your goodbyes growing stronger as you awaited his return.
It was a never-ending cycle, but you both told yourselves it would be better next time. Next time you’d talk through it, have more time to figure it out and truly fix everything. You made plans, wrote in your journal things to discuss and try to work on. Because talking to him about it while he was gone, if he could even communicate, was too much. He was busy and stressed enough with staying alive that trying to figure out why you fought over the fucking curtains and didn’t talk for two days was not a concern then.
But this time was different you swore to yourself. You even brought the journal in the car with you to pick him up. Hoping keeping it present and within eyesight would help you get around to the conversation faster, before a fight broke out. Because damn it you wanted to fix things and get back to the beginning when everything was soft, gentle and fun. What you didn’t account for though is the moment you saw his face waiting for you at the airport arrivals all that anger and pain you wanted to discuss was thrown out the door as you flew out of your seat to hug him. The journal stayed in the backseat of the car as he dragged you into the house with promise and lust in his eyes.
And the journal stayed there for the next three days. Completely forgotten as you both laid in bed together laughing for hours, going down to the rocky beach in the freezing cold morning fog for a walk and to the local pub to catch up with friends. You thought about it of course, thought about what you needed to talk about but damn things were going so well. Why ruin it with that? Maybe your rough patch was over and things were better without having to drudge everything up.
Then everything erupted. You don’t even remember what started it this time, or how it got so far but the familiar pain and rage was back for both of you. You saw the look in his eyes as you stamped your foot and yelled at him to just fucking listen to you for once, so fed up with trying to get a word in between his ranting that you’d try anything to get his attention. His resolve snapped at that and he swiped hard at the glass on the counter so it went flying into the wall not far from where you were standing and exploded into dozens of tiny glittery shards. The ringing silence after that had both of you staring at one another as the amber Scotch ran down the wall.
“Get out,” you breathe after a second, feeling the tears welling up behind your eyes. Tears of frustration, anger and maybe a tinge of fear. Soap had always been loud, boisterous, when he was happy or when he was mad but he had never done anything physical in front of you aside from the occasional door slam. He had always been careful to never let that side out with you because that was his work and he didn’t want to bring work home.
“Lass, I-“ Soap started as he took a step toward you. All the anger and fight seemed to have deflated out of him like popped balloon. But he stopped moving when he saw you step back from him and raised his hands up a bit in surrender.
“Get out, John,” you say again a little more firmly as the sound of dripping liquid hitting tile fills the silence. The Scotch had made it to the floor now and was puddling gently on the tile and you glance at it to see it running into the grout to create a proverbial line between you and him. “Just…go,” you say again feeling the tears fall now and you are furious that he’s seeing how he made you feel.
“Of course,” he answers in almost a whisper, looking horrified with himself as he takes a step backwards, then two. Turning heel, he quickly grabs the car keys from the awful lopsided bowl your niece made you for Christmas and is out the side door to the driveway. He didn’t even pause to grab his jacket despite the rain before he’s in the car and pulling away.
You stood in the silent kitchen for a long while, letting the tears fall as you tried to figure out what went wrong. How could all of this come to be? How could you two fit together like two halves of a same soul in the beginning turn into angry strangers? Perhaps it was all your fault, you were the one that changed and made things difficult. He was still the same old John that you met, the reliable Captain and genuine man that would sacrifice everything for those he loved and his country.
You though, God, you always nagged him didn’t you? Always needed him and resented him in those dark depthless nights when he was gone. Cried to him while he was gone because you couldn’t take another night alone in that big bed. Maybe you were the issue and you were ruining everything, he couldn’t take care of his men and you at the same time. You needed to be strong and let him come home to you whole but you always needed something from him. You just couldn’t let him be.  
By the time you bent down to clean up the spilled alcohol and glass it was a sticky mess and you gasped as a shard nicked your thumb before you tossed it all in the trash. There were no tears left as you sat in the silence of the living room with a bottle of wine, no need for a glass, and just stared blankly into the small fire thinking. The wine addled your brain until your thoughts were just a muddled mess that didn’t make any sense and you needed to sleep.
When you awoke with a small jolt the clock on the nightstand reflected it had been three hours since your fight. Rolling over you saw John’s side of the bed was still untouched and cold. Fuck. With a groan you sit up and grab for your phone to see if he messaged you but all was quiet there. Calling out from the bedroom door to see if he was downstairs was greeted with silence as well. Your head was already throbbing as you crawled back into bed, knowing you should get some water and advil but the exhaustion was too much and you let sleep take you again.
Sometime later you felt the telltale dip in the bed of Soap climbing in and despite everything that had happened you roll over to reach for him. You need the comfort of him, even if you were still so confused, because he was the only thing that could make you feel better. He has you first though, his hands grabbing desperately for you as he drags you over to his side of the bed to wrap you up tight against him. He’s shirtless and you nestle your head down into his chest as one of his hands holds the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.
“I’m sorry,” he says into the dark, his voice a desperate crack as he takes a breath. “Lass, I’m so sorry,” he states again.
You can’t answer, the tears you thought you had run out of were back and you were sobbing into his chest. It felt like this was the moment, the moment things would be made whole again or irrevocably broken and you weren’t ready to face it. Instead, your hands scrabble to cling to him, to grab anything you can and hold on tight afraid it would be the last time you’d get the chance. He smells of cigar smoke and Scotch and the cheap goddamn soap he insists on using because he ‘doesn’t need the fancy shit’.
“Don’t go,” you breathe as he tries to pull back after he sufficiently calmed you down with gentle whispers of affirmations and soft kisses to your hair. “Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry I’ll do things different, I won’t..” you continue before he cuts you off.
“What are you on about?” Soap asks as he pulls back and softly tilts your head up to look at him. His hand slides to wipe away some of the tears that are still tracking down your face. “You don’t ever apologize to me for something I did, it’s not like you made me act like a fool. I scared you and I’m a goddamn idiot for that,” he says quietly, his eyes searching your face. “I should be begging you not to leave me. You deserve so much more than me, then how I’ve been.”
“I kept pushing you though. You deal with so much on your job, I should have just let it go…” you try to argue.
“You should do no such thing,” Soap answers a bit fiercely, “I deserve to get my ass handed to me now and again. Especially when I’m being a prick” he grins a little bit in an attempt to get you to smile as well. “I never want you to not fight back and tell me how you are feeling,” he smooths your hair back a bit off your hot and flushed face. “You know what I’ve been up to?”
“Drinking at the pub,” you answer a bit sheepishly, having smelled the alcohol and smoke.
“Aye, for a drink or two to calm down,” he answers with a small chuckle before twisting away from you to reach behind him. You let him roll, looking over his shoulder at what he was reaching for before he comes back with the small little notebook in his hand. Your journal you had left in the car. “But mostly I’ve been sat down at the beach reading this.”
You wince a bit, the journal was for talking points but you hadn’t intended on him seeing all of it. Not that it was a secret but it was a vulnerable little thing full of your thoughts and drabbles and maybe even a sappy poem or two about John. You glance at it for a second longer before looking back at him as he shifts to lean up against the pillows on the headboard and he pulls you to lay on his chest. He reaches over to click on the bedside lamp before flipping open the journal and turning a few pages.
“We don’t need to talk about this now,” you say feeling a blush creep up as you advert your eyes from the page as he scans down the bullet points before finding what he was looking for. This section had been a late night stream of conscious session and of course he would want to talk about the sixth point.
“You mean this?” He asks as he points to the line about marriage. About how you dream of what life will be like when he finishes his last mission and comes home to you for good. “Because I really want to talk about this,” he smirks and lightly taps your arm with the journal to get you talking. “Or this one, this one is nice,” he teases flipping a few pages where you had written out all the things you love about him, the words ‘back muscles’ are underlined.
“John,” you bemoan as he laughs a bit before closing the journal and sets it gently on his stomach. “I don’t want to push you into anything. I feel like all I do is push you and you just push back harder and we get nowhere. I’m not going to force you into talking about anything, maybe that’s why we’re in the mess we are now.”
“Oh, we’re going to talk about all of it. We’re going to go over every line in that little journal, I added a few of my own notes, hope you don’t mind” Soap answers. “We’re going to make all of this work because I’m going to marry you one day,” the words are casual but the tone is a promise. “But not until we get everything right, until I’m a better man for you.”
“You’re already a great…” you start but Soap cuts you off with a sideways look. “Fine,” you finally give him a small laugh. “You’re a great start,” you tease.
“I’ll take it,” he answers as his fingers trace up and down your bare arm. “I know you’re tired, I found the empty bottle of wine halfway up the stairs,” he laughs. “But we could get started now.”
“Now? John it’s four in the morning, I’m not going to start having deep heart to heart conversations this moment” you answer him pushing up on your elbow.
“Oh no. This doesn’t involve much talking, well…intellectual talking. I found that small back of the page scribble you added about halfway through,” he gives you a very feral smirk as he grabs the notebook again and flips it to that page. He had placed the small ribbon on the journal in that spot as if he had marked it to save it and go back to later. He turns the notebook for you read, watching as your cheeks redden more as you read it over and see where he had added a few things.
“You really did read it cover to cover,” you say as he reaches up to click the light off, dropping the journal to the floor beside the bed.  
“Mm, I did,” he answers before his lips capture yours in the dark.
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kingofthe-egirls · 8 months
Note
Omg! Omg!
Phone Sex after Part. Luffy is back, late at night, still texting with her and he can't wait to see her agin, so detour to her home, and both desperate and happy to see each other again 👀👀
wait wait WAIT OMG ok ok ok
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PHONE SEX: LUFFY x Y/N (part 2)
modern au
(cw: flirting, sweet fluff, self-harm scars, shower sex, spider mention, silliness, sweetness, comfort, blowjob, sex, cunnilingus, food mention)
(a/n: the line "enough to make me supernova" is something i wrote a long time ago, back when i was in high school and had no idea what love was, except that i was sure it had to hurt. guess what, teenage writer? you're still a poet. you're happy now, and you have a partner who loves you so much that you can't even handle it sometimes. he makes you cum, all the time!!! effortlessly and without sadness. i love you, lady.)
"You want me to love you in moderation?
Do I look moderate to you?"
Songs: "Moderation" by Florence + the Machine, "Reality Television" by Maude Latour, "No Rush" by Maude Latour, "Lovebomb" by Maude Latour
words: 4.7k
As soon as his plane touches down, Luffy is searching your address on his phone. He's gonna see you, now.
It's been a week.
One whole long week where he's had to reduce himself to jerking off to your smiling videos, or searching your PornHub for new content. He knows you only film one week in advance, videos weekly scheduled as you queue them up. He's watched your latest (a cute clown girl cosplay) and replayed it over a scant thirty times.
Hey, you're hot, okay?
And he has ADHD too: he hyperfixates on things. And watching you suck a silicone dick with a cute red nose and turquoise wig is enough to make him supernova. He stands up as soon as he's able, and reaches overhead for his black-and-red duffel bag.
****
Luffy trudges along the snowy streets, making his way to your apartment complex. He hunches his shoulders against the freezing winds, not so used to the winter weather. He wonders how you can live here all year round. Or, even stay in one place at all. He's got a few houses dotted around the country, plus an apartment in New York City. He travels between them as it suits him.
He likes freedom.
So do you, apparently, as he notes your lifestyle: you're polyamorous, with a long-term girlfriend named Nami. She's sweet as can be (when she needs something). She'd swiped Sanji right away, the first night you all went out together as friends.
The first time you'd kissed.
He hums, smiling at the memory despite the cold. He hugs his arms around himself for warmth, shivering in just his track suit and sneakers.
why do u have to live somewhere so cold??
He texts you, typing with frozen thumbs. Snowflakes gather on his phone screen, as he sees your ellipses pop up.
sorry lol
It's all he gets til he's buzzing his way up to your apartment. It's a one-bedroom you share with your girlfriend (who is politely out of the apartment for the weekend, spending some much needed spa time with friends). He steps through the glass door of your brownstone apartment building, and makes his way up the carpeted stairs.
It's three flights up, with snow falling outside the staircase windows.
Luffy stops in front of your door.
He knocks.
After just one rap of his knuckles, you open the door. You're standing there in shorts and a t-shirt. You're sparkling and alive, and Luffy feels something clench in his chest. He smiles, big as can be, and wraps you up in his arms without a second thought.
"Luffy!" You cry, arms trapped by your sides as he bear hugs you. Your feet lift off the floor. He's strong, you think.
"Missed you so much!!!" He sings into your hair, nestling his nose in the dark strands so he can breathe you in. "Mm, ya smell nice."
You flush, suffocated slightly.
"Missed you too!" You squeak, nuzzling against his cheek. His face is cold and chapped from the wind. "Come inside!" You breathe as he sets you down, "I've got dirty dishes in the sink so don't look."
Luffy laughs, loud and unashamed, as he scoots in after you. He sets his duffel bag down by the door. He kicks off his shoes (designer brand, you notice, with barely a scuff) and skips happily into your studio.
He crashes onto your daybed immediately. It's barely big enough to fit you and Nami, and Luffy's dangling limbs easily take up the whole space. He spreads out like he owns the place, and you snort.
"Want some hot cocoa?" You ask, heading to your tea kettle.
"Yes!!!" Luffy screams, already excited. You turn around to shush him, reminding the professional athlete of your neighbors. "Oh," he says sheepishly, "Sorry, shishi."
He's so cute.
You hum, singing happily under your breath as you start to heat up the water. You're out of milk, so Luffy's just gonna have to deal. It's the Swiss cocoa with marshmallows though, so hopefully that makes up for it. Luffy's never turned down food or drink as far as you've noticed, so you try to let the stress of having him here in your space roll down your shoulders and off your back. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. The kettle starts to sing, and your pour the hot water into two mugs, the chocolate powder already set in the bottom.
"Here," you hand Luffy his cocoa. He slurps it immediately, and gasps at the heat. "Sorry," you grin, sitting down next to him on the bed. You lean over to blow on his drink, cooling it down. Steam curls around his cute, squishy cheeks. You lean forward to peck a kiss on the one closest to you: the one with the scar.
"Where'd you get that?"
Luffy shrugs.
"Stabbed myself."
You choke, spluttering on the hot cocoa. Hot liquid spurts onto your thighs, staining your shorts, and you grimace. You swipe the chocolate drops away, licking your fingers of the sticky sweetness. "Why?"
"Wanted to prove somethin'."
You nod.
"Here," you say, reaching quietly across your body to show him your left forearm. It's marked up in self-harm scars, uneven and sad. "I stabbed myself, too. Well, more like sliced. Sorry," your cheeks heat up as you realize you're talking way too violent for this conversation. Luffy traces the barcode-like scars on your skin.
"Means you're alive," he says simply. And then, "Sorry."
You shake your head. "S'okay. They're old, anyway." You don't show him the scars on your thigh. Bright red and fresh, you're too embarrassed to admit how current your struggle is to him. At least, not yet.
"So," he smiles, gripping his hand around your wrist. "What comes after cocoa?"
Luffy plants a kiss on your forearm, and your face heats up. You look away, too ashamed to mention how much you appreciate his care.
"Watch a movie?" You suggest, softly pulling your arm back into your lap. He scoots closer, wrapping his arms own, muscular arms around you. His t-shirt smells like sweat. "Was it a long flight?"
"Oh, just a couple hours," he lies.
You smirk, bumping your shoulder into his. "We can take a shower if you want," you suggest, arching an eyebrow. He grins maliciously, and your heart flutters. You swallow.
"Sure, kitty."
****
Butterfly decals line your shower's walls, pink and purple and blue fluttering over the white porcelain tile. Luffy scrubs a washcloth over your back, both of you standing naked in the steaming water.
"Hmm," you sigh, letting your shoulders relax. He caresses your sides with the washcloth, letting his other hand snake around your waist. He's so warm, soap sliding between your bodies as he brings you into his heated chest. He smells like the charcoal-eucalyptus facewash you let him use from Nami's shelf of shower necessities. (Your girlfriend won't mind, will she?) Luffy bites at your earlobe.
"Pretty kitty," he croons, rubbing his soft hands over your breasts. He squeezes gently, washing them with soap. The bubbles gather on your chest, sliding around in slippery iridescence. He presses a hot, wet cheek against yours, his chin resting on your shoulder. He sways with you slightly, in the water. His back is closest to the stream: with you standing in front. You trace the butterfly stickers with an index finger, trying to stay upright. Your heat is dripping between your legs, you can already tell.
"Luffyyy," you moan, complaining almost at what he does to you. To your body. He's got this freaking Midas touch, sending golden shivers down your spine at every flick of his calloused fingertips.
"Whaaat?" He grins against your ear: tightening his arms around your waist. Your ass presses against his already hardening cock. You gasp, slightly, and he giggles. His wet hair presses into your jaw.
"Luffy," you say again, breaths coming heavy in your chest, "Fuck me?"
Luffy's breath hitches, his hands tightening around your ribcage. He slides his palms up to cup your breasts, feeling their heaviness in his hands. He groans, biting softly into your shoulder.
"Say please, sweetheart," he says against your ear, voice raspy. He thumbs at your nipples, and you squeal.
"Please, Luffy!" I want you to fuck me so badly.
"If you insist," he giggles, reaching his hand down to slide along your belly. Rinsing his fingers off quickly in the stream of hot water, he deftly finds your clit and starts swiping at it. His fingers are rough from years of martial arts, but you don't mind.
"Mm, lower," you huff, leaning your head back against his shoulder. He kisses your cheek, wet and sloppy with a pop.
"Like that?" He asks, hoarse.
"Mhmm," you nod, letting your eyes fall shut as hot water sings down your face. It trickles down your neck, your collarbones, in the space between your breasts. Luffy holds you close, taking your weight in his strong arms. He stands behind you with the water running down his tanned back, spraying the side of his sweet face. You turn to plant messy kisses along the side of his neck, too.
He fingers you like that for a bit, waiting for your moans to start becoming headier, edgier, needier. "There...," he breathes, once you start heaving stuttering breaths through your open mouth, "Bend over for me, sweetheart." He gently runs one hand down your back, sending you forward to support yourself against the edge of the tub.
"S'alright?" He asks, poking at your entrance with his rock-hard tip. You see stars, pussy clenching uncontrollably.
"Yes, Luffy," you squeak, spreading your legs so he has ample room. He squeezes your ass cheeks, spreading those apart, too. He sighs as he inspects your pussy, fingering softly at the wet folds.
"S'pretty for me," he praises you, rubbing one hand over your ass. He gives the cheeks another squeeze, humming softly as he presses in.
"Shit," you whine, stretched out. "So big, Lu..."
Luffy giggles, and starts fucking you shallowly. "Let's getcha used to me, hm?" He starts off slow, sliding his cock in and out of your entrance. "Feels so good, kitty," he groans, pressing in just a little bit deeper. It stings, but it's sweet. You moan, biting your lip as you rock your hips back onto his cock. He snickers, "Want more?"
"Mhmm!" You croon, spreading your legs as wide as the narrow tub will let you. Your feet are flat on the tub, hands holding onto the edge next to your shampoo bottles and facewash. A small, spindly shape slips out from behind your shower gel, and you shriek. Spider.
"Luffy!!"
You slam back upwards, away from the spider, and hit the back of your head square against his jaw.
"Ack!" Luffy shouts, reeling backward from the weight of your blow. His back hits the tile wall, and he slips. Soon enough, you're both tumbling down and half-out of the still-steaming shower.
"Spider!!!" You shriek, scrabbling out of the shower to stand sopping wet on the bathroom floor. "Kill it!!!!"
"Ah, shit--," Luffy croaks, shutting off the water finally. He stands dripping in the tub, the shower curtain pulled to the side and tangled up. He shakes his wet hair like a dog. "Where?"
"There!" You point at the green bottle of shampoo, closing your eyes against the nightmare image. Arachnophobia. You squirm, reaching for a towel and retreating out into the living space. You leave a trail of wet footprints on the uneven floorboards.
Luffy shuffles around a bit, but eventually shouts, "Got 'em!"
"Thanks," you whisper, shivering as you sit on your bed, toweling off your soaking hair. You sit naked, with your pussy aching from the short-lived sex. Your mood has quickly soured, however, and you lean down to pull a t-shirt from the drawers beneath your daybed.
"Hey, you okay?" Luffy walks back into the room, raven hair shoved backward from his face, revealing a soft widow's peak.
You swallow, shaking your head. "Sorry," you mumble, "Scared."
"S'okay," he says, wrapping a towel around his waist. It hangs low around his hips, the deep line of his V disappearing into the faded purple terrycloth. He comes over to sit next to you on the thin mattress. Your patchy quilt folds beneath his weight.
"You scared of spiders?" He knocks his shoulder into yours. You nod, jaw set, as you pull your black t-shirt on over your head. You lean forward, gathering your hair into a messy bun. It's unbrushed and tangled, but right now you don't really care.
When you flip back up, adjusting the soaking strands, Luffy is staring at you. His brown eyes are shimmering, slightly. "What?"
"So pretty," he murmurs, smiling. He pokes at your cheek, and then takes your chin in his hand. He makes you face him, meeting your eyes. His are wide, and serious. You try not to shy away.
"Spiders are your enemies, then?" He asks, eyebrows drawn down over his face. You nod, seriously. Luffy thumbs your bottom lip. "So now they're my enemy too. I'll take care of the house spiders, for you."
Suddenly, you burst into tears.
"M'sorry!" You say, sniffing, "I just--really hate bugs."
Luffy wraps an arm around your shoulders. His bare skin slides across yours, still wet from the shower. You lean into him, slightly. He sighs, squeezing your upper arm with rough fingers.
"Is this a bad time to mention that beetles are my favorite animal?"
You snort, sobs subsiding as you wipe the heel of your palm across your face. "Seriously?" You ask, sniffling. Luffy nods, sheepish. He scratches a hand through his crow-feather hair.
"S'that a deal breaker?"
You shake your head, laughing a little. "Nope," you say, standing up off the bed. You squat down to rifle through your daybed's drawers. Lilac panties and short shorts are the way to go.
You dress, casually flaunting your bare lower half in front of Luffy. He grins, standing up to slide his warm hands beneath your t-shirt. They softly circle around your waist, pressing into the skin just below your ribcage. He sways you, side to side.
Luffy nuzzles his nose into your cheek. He smells like Nami's soap, which is kinda weird, but sorta satisfying at the same time. You peck a kiss on his cheek, just below his scar.
"So long as you don't, like, put beetles in my bed, I'm fine."
Luffy snorts. "Has that happened before?"
You shift uncomfortably, under his hold. You scratch your heel against the bare wooden floor. "Maybe."
Luffy scowls, ducking his head to make you meet his eyes. They're sunlit from the window, snow having somewhat stopped. Even in the winter sun, dark brown eyes look golden. "I'm not gonna put bugs in your bed, babe."
You snort, levity brought back into the room at his tone. He has a special talent for that. You squeeze his hipbone. "Thanks, Luffy."
He smiles, nodding once.
"Let's go cuddle!" He says, pulling you back onto the daybed. "We can pick up from where we left off," he says with a smirk, and you gasp. He pulls your weight down on top of his lap, lying on his back while you straddle his thighs. The wet scratch of the towel digs into your skin, the knot at his pelvis bulging against your lap.
"Take this off?" You suggest, pulling at the edge of the towel. Dark hair disappears in a soft trail beneath it, and you wanna touch.
"Sure," he says, letting you lean back so he can unwrap the towel from around himself. He lets it drape over the side of the bed, halfway onto the floor. You resume your place, greedily taking in the sight of his hard cock. It's thick, lightly sticky with precum at the cherry-red tip. His skin is slightly bronzed, darker around his dick and balls, too. You lean forward, scooting your ass back so you can kiss and lick around the base of his shaft. Luffy swears under his breath.
"Shit, kitten," he rasps, "You're so good at that."
You hum, happily licking a stripe up the underside of his lengthy shaft. Luffy groans, bucking his hips. You place a hand on his abs, trying to hold him down. You press into his soft abdomen, feeling the muscles clench firm and hard under your touch.
"Like that?" You ask slyly, raising an eyebrow as you tongue at his tip. His face is flushed, eyes dark and hazy. He brings his shiny bottom lip between his teeth, shuddering out an exhale.
"So much."
"Hm," you skip your fingers across his hips, tracing the prominent arch of his hipbones. "Good."
You take him fully into your mouth, sucking harshly as he gasps. You hollow your cheeks, lapping at his vein with a swift tongue.
Luffy starts thrusting into your mouth, forcing you to take him deeper into the back of your throat. You're not the best at deep throating (gag reflex too strong for that shit), but do your best to take him as far back as you can comfortably go.
Luffy rambles, his voice high-pitched and raspy as he babbles, "Y/n, fuck, that's so good baby--mmph--yes, please, keep sucking me like that--," Until he's shuddering in your mouth, spilling his cum already.
You sit up, triumphant.
"S'good?" You ask, wiping your chin with a forearm. He stares at you, hungrily, before leaping up to capture your mouth with his. He sticks his tongue down your throat, lapping up any trace of himself.
"Perfect," he whines, "Lemme do you?"
You nod, switching spots. He steps onto the floor, straightening the blanket out under you so you can lie down. He fluffs the pillows behind your head, sweetly smiling down at you. The fake string lights you put up with Nami sparkle overhead, giving him a faint, twinkly halo. You spread your legs.
Luffy kneels down between them, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he lies down on his stomach. His breath tickles the bare skin of your inner thigh. He presses a wet kiss to your clothed cunt, lapping at you through the thin fabric of your shorts.
"Smells so good," he groans, closing his eyes as he breathes you in. His hips grind into the daybed, and your pussy clenches at the sight. Rockets flare down your spine, shooting you through with sparks of ecstasy. And you haven't even cum yet.
"S'okay?" He asks, dipping two fingers into the side of your shorts to pull them aside, along with your panties. You nod, salivating with need. His eyes are shiny with lust, and he grins before licking softly through your folds. Your eyes flutter shut, as your head falls back against the pillows. "Atta girl," Luffy says, teething at the outer lips of your cunt, "Relax f'me."
He sucks on your clit, soft lips closing around your sensitive circle of nerves. His tongue works swiftly, sliding up and down from the base of your entrance all the way back up to swipe over your clit. He traces figure-eight motions around your rosebud, preening into you with heated praises of how good you're taking it, yeah just like that babygirl, don't stop, keep saying my name, sweetheart, yeah--
"Faster--," you moan, arching your hips into his jaw. Your fingers thread through his hair, showing him where to move. "...and a little to the left," you say, guiding his tongue there. He hums, lapping now in earnest at your clit. The two fingers that had been holding your clothes out of the way start sliding into your entrance. Birds chirp from outside your third-story window. A car honks as it passes by.
"Mmph--," Luffy moans, face shoved halfway up your cunt. You hiss, back bowing forward as he starts fucking you with his fingers. He rubs them swiftly at your g-spot (with deadly accuracy, no less) as he moans and gasps and sucks on your clit. He's messy and unorganized, but he's so skilled, nonetheless. A lover with hyperfixation issues and an obsession with food is something you can get used to, you think.
Luffy presses the flat of his tongue against your clit, sliding it back and forth softly. His head slowly shakes side-to-side with the movement. You groan, tightening your fingers in his hair. Water droplets slide through your knuckles, falling down onto the tips of Luffy's ears. Your thighs clench around him, whole body starting to shake. "Luffy--," you warn, sparks building into an explosion within you. Gunpowder alights in your belly.
"Cum f'me," he says, breath ragged in between solid licks of your clit and pistoning his fingers in and out of your sticky cunt.
Bang.
It's a sweet death, cumming on Luffy's tongue. He moans appreciatively, grinding his hips into the mattress as he rides you through your orgasm. Your body shakes, sweating and shimmering with the recoil. Luffy is petting your pussy, slowly helping you come down as the smoke clears.
You whimper.
Luffy slides his fingers out of you, popping them into his mouth with a satisfied slurp. "Feel good, baby?"
"Mhmm," you nod, slowly coming back to yourself. Your spine is still tingling, and the arches of your feet are seared with heat.
"Kiss me," he says, leaning forward to place his lips along yours. They slide together gracefully, his tongue poking into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him. He bites at your upper lip, pulling softly. "Did such a good job for me," he croons, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. You nuzzle into his hand, slowly blinking your eyes back open.
"So did you," you whisper, smiling sweetly. He giggles, all shishishi, as he leans down to kiss your lips. He tastes like hot chocolate and marshmallows. His biceps trap you in on either side of your face, as he starts to thrust gently against your cunt. His dick slides against your thigh, tip poking at your entrance every so often. He lets his head fall down into your shoulder, shuddering a breath. He kisses a line along your collarbone.
"Can I?"
"Mhmm," you nod again, already shivering in anticipation. Luffy adjusts himself with little thrusts, angling his hips until his thick head is pushing aside the walls of your entrance. You groan.
"Luffy," you huff, voice shaky, "You feel so good."
Luffy presses his lips against the side of your neck, mouthing sloppily at your pulse point. He sinks himself deeper into your cunt, going slowly until he's buried to the hilt. He shifts, subtle movements from side to side that have you seeing stars.
You grip the back of Luffy's hair, both arms wrapped around his neck. "Faster," you whisper, tugging at the silken locks. Your legs are wrapped around his broad torso, ankles hooked together.
Luffy grins, lips stretching against your neck, as he starts thrusting hard and fast into your cunt. He hits all your sweetest spots, messily kissing your neck, your face, your jawline. He whimpers so prettily against your skin, it has you near-feral with need.
"Harder, Luffy," you tell him, gripping his hair tighter. He lifts his head up to kiss your lips, moaning into you as he speeds up.
"Love when you tell me how ta fuck ya," he sighs against your mouth, tongue slipping out to glide against your lower lip. His cock is deep inside you now, fucking hard and fast and just right.
You buck your hips up to meet him as best you can, sloppily matching his athletic pace with little gasps of pleasure. He growls into your ear, pulling at the shell of it with his teeth.
"Switch," you tell him, "Wanna ride ya."
He giggles, flipping you over with ease. His arms flex as he does, and you gasp with need. He arches an eyebrow, tracking your hungry movements as you grope his biceps, his shoulders, his rock-hard forearms. He flexes for you, sweat shining on his brow.
"Like that, sweetheart?" He teases you, traces his fingertips around your nipples. He flicks them, slightly, as you sink yourself back down on his cock. He hisses, eyes closed.
"Love it," you answer, arching your back so you can start fucking his cock at the exact angle that you need. It's not long before you're cumming, rutting into him with little "ah-ah's!" of pleasure. Luffy strokes your hipbones, urging you on.
"Keep goin', baby," he tells you, command dripping from every slurred syllable, "Cum f'me again." He grips the flesh of your hips, dragging you back and forth on his cock as he starts to fuck up into you again.
He plants his feet on the mattress, lifting his hips so he can jackhammer up into your needy pussy as fast as he wants to. His stamina is no match for yours, especially as you're catching your breath after your second orgasm. You fold forward, moaning all high-pitched and whiny as you let him wrap his arms around you.
"'M close," he whispers, breath hot on the nape of your neck, "Cum with me, angel?"
The pet name is so sweet, so romantic, that it catches you off guard. You swivel your hips into his, clenching your pussy walls around the thick length of his member. All you smell is him, hot chocolate and charcoal, as he pounds up into you from below.
"Sweet girl," he snarls, face hot and flushed with need, "Clench that pussy for me," he slaps your ass, and you gasp. Your pussy flutters around his cock, and he grins. "Good girl, baby."
He pants, thrusting up into you at the same breakneck pace, before he's spasming inside you and you feel his hot cum burst sticky against your velvet walls. You whine, letting him fuck his own spend deeper inside your aching pussy. A fluttering, shy orgasm lifts its wings against your spine. He gifts you with a few more stuttering thrusts, and you gasp. Luffy, Luffy, Luffy--
Sweet as sugar.
Luffy hums, happily relaxing back into the mattress. His fingertips trail little spirals along your ass. You wiggle, and he grins.
"Didja like that?" He peeks down at you with one eye open. His scar is hidden under a scarlet blush. You reach up to touch it with your thumb. You press, gently.
"Loved it."
Luffy sighs, letting his head fall back. You slowly lift yourself off him, letting his slick cock fall out against his strong thigh. You groan, spasms still coursing through your cunt as you stand up. His cum leaks down the side of your leg. Clean up time.
You softly pad back into the (now spiderless) bathroom to wash up.
****
Luffy is waiting for you when you get back, one arm thrown haphazard above his head. His shorts are back on, and when he looks up at you, your hair disheveled and mascara smudged, his dark eyes light up like firecrackers. "Shishishi," he giggles when he sees you, "You're so freakin' cute."
You squeeze your eyes shut, a wave of affection so profound and unbearable that all you can do is grit your teeth against it. He sits up.
"You okay?"
"Sorry--," you gasp, pressing your hands against your chest, "It's just--really sweet when you say stuff like that."
He grins.
You wave it off, coming back over to throw on your comfy clothes again. He skootches over to give you room to sit. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in. You both lean back against the daybed's headboard, legs folded around each other as the two of you relax. Your body is squishy and sore, and his is probably somewhere near the same. You reach over to squeeze his knee.
"Sex with you is really sweet," you say, quietly. Luffy grins, nose crinkling in delight. He scratches the back of his head.
"Shishishi, 'm glad you liked it, y/n!"
You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Let's order pizza," you say, tracing circles on his knee. There's a splotchy purple bruise on the side of it: one of many you're sure he has from training.
"Kitty, I love you," he says, slumping his whole weight into you. He nuzzles into your cheek, even as you gasp and try to push him off you. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you over onto his lap.
"My treat," he says, mouth at your ear, "Whatever you want."
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