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bejeweledblondie · 6 months

Note

so excited about you having your requests open. I love your page!!

can I please request: Simon Ghost Riley x wife!reader?

Ghost and the rest of tf 141 are on a mission and end up getting detoured by who ever they are taking out (Russians, Hassan, etc). They need a safe house and quick! Well it just so happens simons place is right near by and simon takes them. the reader is home alone and just got out of the shower, she heard a bunch of men downstairs and gets freaked. In just her bathrobe, reader takes one of their safety guns and goes to defend herself against the “intruders” but really it’s just simon and gang

(sorry if this is long I got excited)

please and thanks

Hello! I’m so happy you’re enjoying my blog! I do apologize for the delay I was hospitalized for a lung infection (shit sucks dude I felt like a Victorian child dying of tuberculosis) but I’m all good now! So enjoy!

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Summary: After their mission becomes compromised Task Force 141 has to take up shelter in a safe house or the Riley Family home much to the surprise of Mrs. Simon Riley

Warnings: innuendos

“Come on I know a place.” Ghost grunted through his skull faced mask. The Lieutenant begrudgingly huffed & puffed leading the rest of his teammates through the forest that lead to the cottage where his family resided. After their location had been compromised Laswell ordered them to find a home in order to stay in where they’d go undetected. With them being only ten miles away from the cottage he called home with his wife, he knew it was the only option. Finally, after miles of hearing Gaz & Johnny complain about their feet aching they reached the wisteria ridden cottage.

He started to reach into his pocket & pulled out the key to his front door.

“Take your shoes off,” Ghost demanded. “We don’t want to track mud.” Photos of a very beautiful young woman in a wedding dress graced the walls of hallway leading into the living room. Simon could hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom indicating to him his beloved darling wife was showering.

“Simon, how do you know about this place?” Soap asked after he kicked his boots off. “I’m assuming you know the beautiful lassie in the photos.” Price chuckled to himself, knew about you. Simon had come to him to ask for advice on a lot of different things in regards to a marriage. His most recent was about children. It was just four months ago you had found out you were with child.

“Something like that.” Simon replied, & removed his mask. Gaz & Soap gave each other a glance knowing he must’ve felt very comfortable with his environment. A black & white cat rounded the corner out of the kitchen. He made a beeline for Simon & started to rub up against Simon’s legs. Bending down Simon grabbed the feline & started to pet him.

You had decided to run a shower, needing to wash away the grime of the day. Your current tired pregnant state made you incredibly drowsy. Resting your head against the cold tile you could’ve sworn you heard the door open. Chalking it up to pure exhaustion you ignored it. Then the all familiar sound of boots coming off by the front door made your head snap. You turned off the water, & dried yourself off. Wrapping yourself in your bathrobe & throwing on a pair of panties you grabbed the shot gun that laid next to the bed. If there was one thing Simon taught you was to defend yourself.

Slowly you started to make your way down the staircase shotgun pointed outwards. Once at the bottom you turned the corner into the hallway. Seeing the all familiar broad shoulders of your husband made you lower your shotgun.

“Si?” You asked clearly confused now cradling the shotgun in your arm. He turned around holding, Phantom your beloved tuxedo cat. “I thought you were supposed to be home in a few days.” You stated clearly confused.

“I’m sorry love, we needed somewhere to stay for a few days.” He replied. “Just until the heat dies down.” He gave you a kiss, much to the surprise of his teammates. “How the little one?” He asked placing one of his large hands on your lower abdomen.

“The usual,” You replied. “But overall we’re just fine.” Soap & Gaz stood there with their mouths wide open in shock.

“You have a kid?!” Soap asked.

“Back it up when did you get married?” Gaz asked. Price just stood there pinching the bridge of his nose at his teammates ruining the lovers moment. Simon holding his wife tightly now turned to face them.

“I got married three years ago, & we’re expecting our first child in five months.” Simon replied. “This is Mrs. Simon Riley, Y/N.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you.” You replied beaming. “Hi, John it’s nice to see you again.” You said waving at Price. Both Soap & Gaz looked at him shocked.

“What?!” John asked. “It wasn’t my responsibility to tell you.” Noticing your lack of clothing you excused yourself to change, & brought down old pajamas of Simon’s for the boys.

“The shower is open, & let me bake some cookies for you boys. You must be hungry.” You said. Simon took his usual spot on the couch & turned on Netflix. You loved taking care of Simon, he was the love of your life. The two of you depended on each other for everything. His job was a big stressor in his life & you wanted to make his home life as relaxing as you possibly could.

Soap, & Gaz were in seventh heaven in a world of hardened military men, the tender touch of a woman was exactly what they needed. Someone to just take care of them for a little bit to let them escape from the reality of their lives. Once the cookies were done you brought some plates out for them & then took your place right next to Simon on the couch. He pulled you in tightly, your head resting on his chest & his hand resting on your lower abdomen caressing the small bump. After a plate of cookies you both fell asleep on the couch. John himself was already knocked out in the little recliner that sat next to the couch his bucket hat covering his face. Gaz nudged Soap to look at their sleeping Lieutenant & his darling wife. It was so foreign to them to see him in such a soft state. They had seen him snap men’s necks the way you’d snap a Kit-Kat but here he was even in sleep being so gentle. Soon afterwards the two men also let sleep take over, letting the uncertainty of the situation become a problem for tomorrow.

2K notes · View notes

twistedbloodstain · 1 year

Text

marquis de gramont x reader: with you, i serve. with you, i fall down. | a seal of fate

plot: the one where the marquis takes you for himself.

warnings: hella down bad marquis, some flulff, break in, violation of privacy, slightly dubious content

masterlist

he can hear the shower running through the floor and the occasional humming from a tune coming from the bathroom.

the living room is dark, save for a vintage lamp illuminated beside the couch. it looked too rusty and drab to basically function but it brought a rustic and classy feel to the room. although, the light withered occasionally.

someone is staring at him. more like something, something feline. it’s been tracing his movements the moment he entered the humble abode. vertical pupils squinting from the unidentified person that has entered his castle, a ball of fur that was mounted beside the lamp on the side table.

it’s body was sprawled on the table but it wasn’t relaxed. it was tense, as if playing camouflage to its prey. staying still as the prey walks past him and when it does he pounces on them for the kill.

he is no prey. more like the owner, it depends on how sentimental this ball of fur is to you. he hears the shower turn off, it catches his attention and waits to hear a door close and another to open along your soft footsteps trudging through the apartment. you call out for your feline pet, the cat makes no sound to meow back to you. focused on him, if he made any sudden movement to attack him. you sigh then ignore the absence of communication and he guesses that you make a beeline for your bedroom.

he waits a few minutes before getting on his feet. several minutes pass and he stands up and walks towards the cat beside the lamp. the cat tenses along with its back legs fidgety for an attack he slowly halts and reaches for it with his hand.

the cat hisses bravely and swiftly raises its paw to attack the hand attempting to touch him with his sharp claws. it makes vincent hiss in pain and retract his hand, he checks his palm for blood. he realizes no blood was drawn and that relieves him. he’s definitely getting this little shit replaced when you move in with him. he’ll get you a sweeter one, a ragdoll or persian just not this demonspawn from hell.

he makes his way towards the bedroom door, as he passes by he can see some trinkets lying on the kitchen and tabletops. a few cooking books and old history textbooks stacked on the floor. this reminds him that he needs to buy you a few books to keep you entertained in the manor.

as he faces the front door he stealthily turns the knob of the door and enters, it was time.

you brushed the tedious knots in your hair with a comb in difficulty, you forgot to brush your hair before showering again. you searched for your hair brush on your vanity but to no avail. you turn towards your bed and gasp in surprise.

he was here, the marquis was here. in your bedroom.

his face remains the same, still and calm as the sea. but you knew better, this was only the calm before the storm. deep inside him, a storm was brewing but he kept his composure to seal away what he truly felt and right now you, the sailor needs to run away from the storm.

you slowly eyed him from top to bottom, as usual his hand stayed in his pockets. a string of gold strewn across his pocket. the chain shines from the luminescence it received from your bedside lamp. he was dressed impeccably, something you often admired. he’d often used his wardrobe as a form of intimidation to his enemies when speaking to them and it often worked. you pray that it doesn’t falter you, that he doesn’t falter you. maybe he’ll leave when you show a strong front to him.

he gazes upon your face like he was taking in a treasure presenting itself to the sight of his eyes. you were still frozen on your spot after you gasped in surprise from seeing him.

“good evening, cherie.” he breaks the silence with the sweet endearment.

you hesitantly greet out a reply to him, you fail to build a strong front and your voice visibly wavers from fear, “evening,boss.”

he begins to walk, it takes all the power in you not to back away from him. you try to appear composed and resilient. a farce attempt to show that you aren’t scared of him, but you know you are and so does he.

thankfully, he doesn’t make his way towards you. he saunters towards the edge of your bed and sits down. his eyes wander around your room, taking in the personal touches you made to the room. gradually turning his head to face you once again.

“how are you?” he politely asks.

“i’m fine. nothing bad happened to me.” you answer.

this again. what’s his game? it was never just simple conversation with your boss, there was always a point he wanted to come across. a lesson to be learned. right now, it wasn’t looking good for you. you need to take control of this conversation.

“that’s good. the doctor commented a few days ag-“ he speaks to you again but got interrupted.

“sir, with all respect. what do you want? why are you here?” you whisper to him. any attempt to gain the upper hand with him is futile, he always gets his licks back. silence follows the conversation before he speaks up again.

“you know what i want.” he sternly retorts.

“i don’t know what you’re here for. much less what you want.” you fire back, strength is solidifying itself inside you.

“is that so? surely you do.” he says mockingly, still playing a game.

“i don’t.” you say firmly this time.

“fine.” he scoffs to your face before reaching into his pocket, you flinch afraid he might’ve brought a weapon of some sort, he notices this and his hand remains inside. his eyes all on your frame and yours on his hand inside of his pocket.

you should really hope you’re not fucked.

“perhaps this will jog your memory.” he continues, “three days ago, you sent me this message. subject: resignation letter. to the marquis de gramont, i'm writing to let you know that, as of the seventeenth day in august of this year, i'm leaving from my employment as the marquis de gramont's personal assistant. due to schedule issues and unanticipated consequences encountered while working, i am leaving my position. i appreciate the chance to work with you over the past two years. sincerely-.” he recites the entire letter of resignation to you with a false professional tone to patronize you..

“i precisely know what i wrote there.” you look away from him annoyed as you cut him off once again.

“then you precisely know why i’m here.” he argues back. “i’m glad we’re finally getting on the same page, mon coeur.”

no we aren’t, i don’t want you here. i want you out of my house and i don’t want to see you ever again. how come you never ask what i want? you want to scream at him but your silence continues.

“look at me.” he pressed.

you stay quiet and keep your gaze away from him.

“you will not leave.” he finally claims. finally this makes your head snap back at him and makes you scoff loudly, the marquis frowns from your reaction although you did give him what he wanted.

“you can’t do this.” you respond weakly, your breath hitching in your throat.

“i can. i actually can.” he states certainly.

“why’s that? because you said so?” you challenge him. defying him is never a good idea, you know this. you know better and you should do better, but you’re too petty and exhausted. you want him out as soon as possible even if that means being blunt to him.

“tell me the truth. why do you want to leave?” he changes the subject and presses once again.

“i already told you. it’s in the goddamn letter.” you were getting tired of repeating the same words.

“i don’t believe you.” he discloses firmly.

“don’t act so foolish and dense-“ you retort in exasperation.

“are you calling me a fool?” he immediately questions. oof i think you hit his pride in that one.

“i’m asking you not to be one. boss, i literally got shot, i almost died. this may be something you can brush off easily but i can’t. you don’t have to worry about me spreading your secrets because i literally signed an nda and i have no intention of getting back in that kind of work! i’m gonna ask you once again, please leave.” you beg him, hoping he hadn’t missed the point of what you were trying to say.

you already knew that this job was already insane. not only do you cater the whims of an insanely rich man whose money seems to have no end but the danger and fear it came along with had to be taken into measure. not to mention, you didn’t exactly feel like living when you worked for him. how many opportunities for happiness had you turned away because that meant disregarding the marquis’ orders and facing his wrath if you chose to have that? god, you hadn’t even been home in a long time. you deserve this, he should at least have the courtesy to understand that.

“you don’t have to be scared anymore, cherie. i’m here.” he interrupts your thoughts as he softly affirms to you.

you don’t want that. you want nothing to do with him, sooner or later you’ll get killed and it’s likely going to be because of him. you know that he’s regretful and shameful of what happened to you but keeping you by his side isn’t going to change that, people die, more fact than speculation and by mere calculation you could tell it’ll happen sooner than later. after all, the marquis was still human. deep down, he’s still vincent and if you were to stay with him for protection that choice should be coming from you, not from him.

his determination to keep you locked away in his manor did nothing but frighten you to death. it had been so unexpected, not to mention you haven’t processed that fully along the fact you almost died.

you sigh loudly from resignation, the marquis keeps you in his line of sight, probably wondering what was going inside your head.

‘i can’t,” you finally utter out, “what can’t you understand? i’m scared…so fucking scared and you keep waltzing into my life like your entitled to it which just scares me more. i needed time to think, to process..all of this.” you gesture around you, the marquis stays silent listening to your words with no visible reaction on his face.

“i finally thought all of this through, i want to stay alive. staying alive means quitting, i-i have so much to live for, my family needs me and i need them. i don’t need you to look out for me, i don’t need you for this. i can help myself.” you refrain to him, letting the words sink to him.

“i’ve done so much for you. i’ve kept and guarded your secrets, everything i’ve ever heard while i worked never escaped my mouth and never entered ears that weren’t meant to hear them. i’ve protected your power, i upheld every system and order you gave me, so for god’s sake. haven’t i done enough for you? what else haven’t i gave to you?” you spill out to him, he deserves to know this, how you carried his burden with you everywhere without him knowing. the burdens you carried that he couldn’t be bothered to touch, every order of assassination, every fearful attempt of getting killed and his mercurial violence.

he needs to know that you can’t take it anymore. there is so much that you could take, let him find another. another that might be more tolerable of how he runs his system, more understanding of his work. someone who doesn’t flinch at the mention of drawing the blood of his enemies. someone that’ll encourage his determination for the never ending pain and ruthlessness.

you can’t be that someone, not anymore.

working for you is pure torture, you want to say but as usual you hold it back from him.

the marquis stays quiet. you don’t see his face twist in displeasure or anger..which is good but a quiet marquis wasn’t any better. he suddenly jolts onto his feet, scoffing from what you just said as he paced on your bedroom with his head infrequently looking at you. he was getting heated from what you said.

he shakes his head with his hands on his hips before finally speaking, stopping in his tracks, “that’s it?”

you try to speak before he cuts you off.

“that’s it, you’re simply leaving me because you’re scared?” he angrily questions you.

“please, you have to understand.” you try to plead once more.

“cherie, i can protect you. i saved you the same way you saved me. i am owed something.” he reassures you, pieces of his anger slightly heard from his tone.

“i was in the way! i didn’t-“ you try to clear it with him.

“clearly, your memory isn’t serving you well, more reason to keep you safe with me which is for the best.” he firmly asserts.

“i’m not going back there!” you yell at him, “just because i took a bullet for you doesn’t mean you get to dictate how i live my life, at the end of the day, you don’t get to control me, i don’t exist for you and most importantly just because i almost died because of you doesn’t mean i owe anything to you.” you lament at him, exhaustion and animosity getting the best of you as the marquis marches towards you, as you finish, slightly out of breath from your rant. he stands still before you. you hope that your words might put some sense in him.

he stares at you and you look back at him, returning his gaze. you gulp, alarmed that maybe you’d gone too far and perhaps…perhaps you should’ve done this more softly or professionally. you should’ve conjured a foolproof plan when confronting him about this, you should’ve expected he wouldn’t let go without a fight however, it’s not like you had a choice with him breaking into your apartment.

he slowly strides towards you, step by step. you take a deep breath in despair as he leisurely closes on you while you feel your back hit the wall.

“you are going back there. it is where you belong, you care for me. don’t even try denying it, cherie. i saw, i saw the way you looked at me that night, you’re afraid that’s all. you’re right,” he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent then continues, ”i don’t control you but you do that to me, you control me, you control every ounce of thought that occupies my mind. most of the time, it’s all my head does. you might not exist for me but i exist for you, you make living in this cruel world brighter and sweeter than before but this is where you’re wrong. you do owe me something, you owe me your life and i can make it lovelier if you just let me.” he speaks in a hushed tone as he looks through your eyes. you can feel something grabbing your arms, you glance and see that he’s taken hold of your limbs. rubbing circles around them, attempting to soothe you.

the pattern of his strokes reminds you of that night at the plaza.

he only deters you even more.

“i owe you nothing.” you whisper, your voice growing weaker by every second.

“you owe me something.” he repeats once again.

“i don’t.” you mutter looking into his eyes.

“that’s where you are wrong, you do.” he emphasizes to you.

“then we’re even. i-i saved you too and you saved me.” you quietly mumble to him.

he raises a brow in your response and lowers himself to your ear. the hairs in your body rise and you can feel goosebumps crowd your skin.

“i don’t want even…i want you.” he confesses.

you frantically sigh in distress, attempting to wrench yourself out of his grip, something you should’ve done earlier, but it’s too late. he abandons the hold he has on your right arm and clasps it to your neck to bring you closer to him and he kisses you.

you squealed in shock but it’s devoured when he takes your lips to his. you can feel your back press to the wall even harder trying to evade his touch, his kiss, but the marquis presses himself to you. his hands had abandoned your neck and arm, opting to snake around your waist as he pulled you closer to his warmth.

the marquis is kissing you.

he kissed you like a devoured man. as if he’d been deprived of something sweet for years and he finally received what he’d always wanted. he wouldn’t let his grip on you soften, afraid that you might abandon him once again, which you did before. he softly moans into the kiss, content and happy with what was happening.

“don’t leave.” he pulls away to whisper into you. “don’t leave me.”

you whimper as you feel his hands exploring your body, one of his palms tugging at the buttons of your satin white pajama shirt, wanting to feel more and more of the warmth beneath the clothes.

“i want you to promise me.” he mumbles to you, your foreheads pressing together, as he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. you make no sound of promises and affirmation to him. he stays quiet expecting your words as he stares into the depths of your eyes and speaks up once again.

“no matter, you’ll be begging for me soon enough.” he sighs from your lack of communication then delves back into the warm haven he has found earlier.

seldomly, he’d pull himself back to bite your bottom lip. you’d wince from the ache coming for your mouth, slightly parting and he’d take that opportunity to slip inside your mouth. his hands continued to explore through your body, randomly squeezing a part of you to force a moan from you, then return to making out with you. you can feel him smile against you whenever he did. you felt bitter because this was looking victorious for him.

“please…stop.” you sigh in pleasure when he starts kissing and biting your neck.

“do you, cherie? i don’t think you do, not when you’re making all these pretty sounds for me.” he whispers against your neck then continues his attack on your skin.

“s-sir, stop..stop that.” you plead once again.

“vincent.” he stops to correct you.

“what?” you ask confused.

“none of that courtesies from now on. you’ll call me vincent. do you understand?” he softly reminds you, he’d halted his movements of affection, his forehead was pressed against yours again as his eyes looked at you with the utmost devotion known to man.

you stay silent as he smiles at you, that stuns you even more. you’ve never seen him smile from something pleasant. his eyes shimmered with love and desire like the stars when you got shot. your lips were wet and plump from the sudden assault the marquis had given them and your pajama shirt had several buttons undone but the marquis by comparison almost looked the same except for the disheveled clothes.

finally, he presses a chaste kiss to your lips, the seal to your fate awaiting his words.

“as much as i want to continue this right now, we must usher home. we wouldn’t want to be late for dinner, do we mon amour? cold food never tastes as good when it is warm.”

you stay quiet, slightly mind blown from the make out session your ex-boss just gave you. your head feels fuzzy and unclear, christ your legs feel like giving out if the marquis hadn’t been holding you up against the wall.

he leans back down into your collarbone and begins to leave a trail of kisses throughout the skin, you whimper as he bites into some areas of the skin, eliciting a groan from him. you begin to feel his head go lower and lower, entering the region of skin where your unbuttoned shirt had failed to cover, you look down at him hesitantly and you see him looking up at you with affection.

suddenly, he grabs at your hips then raises himself up along with you. hoisting you on him, you hastily grip his shoulders as he lifts you, afraid to fall onto the floor of your bedroom.

“i changed my mind, perhaps it can wait. what do you think mon amour?” he whispers into you in the dark of the night.

you are now his love.

his to have and his to keep.

just as he is yours.

with you, he serves. with you, he falls.

you’re staying with him. not as his assistant but as his partner.

he will be your love. your heart. he will be yours.

you will be his love. his heart. his wife.

and god forbid anyone who takes you from him.

author’s note: sooo that’s part five and the last part of the marquis series! i really enjoyed writing this as it helped me explore my writing capabilities (especially in part two) even in my fever induced state. (it had me giggling in a cafe while i had a fever) thank you so much for the kind words and sweet comments yall have about the series (it has me kicking my feet pls continue). although im tempted to write a drabble of the aftermath of part five + that keith toshko fic and two requests ;)) please like and reblog and feel free to comment!

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik @ilunapb @hesvoid3434

part one part two part three part four

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rollinouttahere-writes · 8 months

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Nami vs Whitebeard for the child. That’s all I can think of now after reading the new Little Lucky Au upload 👀😭

This was supposed to be cute/funny, but then I got carried away and made it crucial to the plot of the Little Lucky AU. Oops. This takes place sometime after Marineford but before the timeskip.

Also Thatch is alive and well here because I said so and as a fanfic writer it is my right to engage in a little bit of friendly necromancy when I see fit.

Decisions Made

4.1k words

Nami didn’t like this one bit. She hated it, really, but she couldn’t do anything about it now. She was on a ship sitting across the strongest man in the world and had to play nice lest she makes you upset.

As much as she was glad that Luffy had been able to successfully save his brother, she was not happy about Ace using this as an opportunity to finally succeed in bringing you over to his family. It had been a couple of days since the Marineford incident, and as soon as both crews had the chance to recover from the brutal battle, Ace had apparently set out to track them down.

Luffy was quick to agree to Ace’s proposal to pay Whitebeard’s crew a visit, promising that there would be a party to celebrate the successful rescue mission. Nami knew better though, she knew that this was much more about getting you on board the Moby Dick than the celebration. There was nothing she could do about it, though. Luffy had already decided on it, and you were so excited to meet Ace’s brothers that there was no stopping it.

The party itself was about as lively as one would expect it to be with a crew so large, it had been a struggle to keep track of where you were at any given moment. It felt like you were being swept away by a different crew member every other second, and Luffy telling her not to worry about it was not helping.

The feast they’d hosted wasn’t too bad. Well, the food was spectacular, but the relieving part was that you were easy to keep track of during it. You’d made yourself comfortable on Ace’s lap the second he sat down, and he did not give any of his brother’s a chance to “get a turn”. Nami would have preferred you to be seated with them, but she could at least settle for this since you were only a few meters away at best.

Currently, she was seated across the deck from where Whitebeard’s massive throne was. While the others were at least trying to make small talk with the emperor, she was quietly watching you to make sure nothing funny happened.

Humorously, the “person” you’d been most excited to meet was Kotatsu, some large wild cat that was a part of Ace’s crew before it disbanded. The second Ace realized that your love for cats extended beyond your pet Magnolia, he was quick to tell you all about Kotatsu to try and entice you to come with him for a visit. His plan worked on you flawlessly, but fortunately her and Sanji were able to stop him before he snuck off with you.

While she had been a little concerned about Kotatsu lashing out at you after seeing how scary he looked, your seemingly endless cat charm worked on him just as well as it did on every other feline you’d come across. The overgrown lynx was happily purring up a storm on your lap while you lavished him with attention.

Magnolia has not been taking her loss of attention very well and was sat at Nami’s feet glaring at Kotatsu like she was planning to eat him. Her tail was whipping back and forth in irritation, and her claws were digging into the floorboards.

She was grateful that the cat was keeping you in place at least, every single one of Ace’s brothers have been trying to entice you away from him, but the efforts were all in vain. You were in kitty heaven and you weren’t about to move from it. If nothing else, it was funny to see these people getting snubbed by you in favor of a cat.

A door opened, and Nami recognized the ship’s head chef making a beeline for you. Thatch had been trying his hardest to bond with you, and both of his hands were full with his latest effort.

Thatch dropped a food bowl on the ground, piled with whole fish for Kotatsu. He immediately perked up and sniffed the air. There was a brief pause before he got up to go dig in to the food he was offered. You pouted at being abandoned by your newest cat friend, but Thatch was quick to take the opportunity presented to him.

“Hey there, Lucky!” He ruffled your hair with his free hand, “I thought you might want some dessert.” The chef lowered his other hand, revealing a small plate with cookies stacked onto it.

Your eyes lit up and you smiled widely, eagerly taking the plate from him, “These look yummy! Thank you, Uncle Thatch!”

The second this crew heard you refer to Ace as “Uncle Ace”, everyone else had insisted that they were now also your uncles. Ace agreed, and since you hung onto every word out of his mouth, that meant you agreed too. This fact made Nami huff. These people were weird.

Thatch grinned triumphantly and smartly scooped you up into his arms before Kotatsu could come back and curl up on you again. There wasn’t a single protest out of you, seeing as that you were happily munching on cookies.

Nami could hear Sanji grumbling next to her, followed by the sound of his lighter flicking on. Again. He’s been chain smoking like mad since they got on board.

The door he had come out of before opened again, this time with Ace and Marco exiting. So that’s where Ace had gone. Nami was suspicious when he abruptly vanished a while ago, and that feeling only doubled when she saw how serious their faces were. Just what were they talking about?

They diverged paths, with Marco leisurely making his way to Whitebeard, while Ace bounded over to you and Thatch. A smile had been plastered over his face now, showing no hint of whatever conversation he’d had with Marco mere minutes ago. He tried to take you from Thatch’s arms, but the chef used his height to his advantage and kept you out of reach.

“Come on, I haven’t seen my niece in forever!” Ace pleaded.

“It hasn’t even been an hour, quit whining. We all want a chance to see our niece,” Thatch replied smugly. His cockiness was only aided by the fact that you were giggling at the game of keep away that you were being used in.

Nami glanced back at Whitebeard and saw him and Marco having a hushed conversation. Both of their expressions were unreadable, and whatever Marco was saying was so quiet that Nami couldn’t make it out. She felt uneasy. Something about their exchange felt off, even if she couldn’t pinpoint it. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to leave right now, but Luffy wouldn’t allow it.

She hadn’t missed the disapproving look Marco had the first time he’d seen Lucky. While your injuries had healed since their horrible run-in with Enel, you were severely scarred from it. Mentally and physically. Sanji had been trying out every scar removing ointment that he could find on you, but the scars were still extremely visible.

Everyone was prone to getting defensive over people judging them for your previous injuries. They felt awful enough without having other people rubbing it in their face.

It was inevitable that Ace was going to question what happened, she knew that the second she spotted his boat speeding towards theirs. The literal second he’d made eye contact, his smile fell and he was looking at the rest of them and asking what happened to his niece while scooping you into his arms protectively. Luffy, being the honest loud mouth that he is, told him everything. Ace didn’t take it well, but he tried to keep it together for your sake.

Marco finished whatever it was that he had to say and hopped down, strolling over to where you were being held in the air. Ace was still trying to get you back, becoming increasingly offended by your lack of cooperation.

Since Thatch was entirely focused on Ace, he didn’t even notice Marco approaching until he’d managed to snatch you out of his hands.

Before either of them could protest this, Marco cut in, “Are you planning on hogging her all day? Pops hasn’t even been able to properly meet the kid yet.” This was true, you’d barely been able to say ‘hi’ to the giant man before being whisked away by Ace for introductions to his brothers.

Thatch protested, complaining that he finally got to hold you, but Marco just rolled his eyes, “She isn’t going anywhere, you can spend more time with her later.” Marco readjusted his hold on you, and flashed a warm smile, “You want to go meet pops? He’s been waiting to talk to you.”

You bit your lip and mindlessly tugged on his open shirt, “Um… I guess?”

Whitebeard was an extremely intimidating man, Nami wasn’t surprised that you were nervous about him. You’ve been around giants before, but none of them sported that stern expression that Whitebeard had 95% of the time. That, and she thinks that all of the tubes and medical equipment coming out of him was making you unsure. You’d never seen someone in such a state, so you didn’t seem to know what to make of it.

With every step towards the captain, you stared at him while he stared back. Finally, it dawned on Whitebeard that he may have been intimidating you, and his face softened into a small smile, “It’s nice to finally get a good look at you, my child! I was starting to think I wasn’t going to.”

Your shoulders relaxed slightly and you offered a smile back in exchange. You broke eye contact, tiny hands clinging onto Marco’s shirt as you shyly spoke, “It’s nice to meet you too, mister.”

The other crew members chuckled at your shyness, making you hold onto Marco tighter. This action made him smile and pat your back reassuringly. Once he’d made it to where Whitebeard was seated, the towering captain held out one of his hands. Marco deposited you into it, and despite it only being his hand, you were completely dwarfed by the size.

You looked up at him warily, but still clung onto his thumb to keep from tumbling off his hand. Nami felt anxious at seeing you held so high off the ground, but knew that voicing this concern would do nothing. She would get laughed at and told to stop worrying so much by the crew. And also Luffy.

“So you’re the niece I’ve heard so much about?” Whitebeard had brought you up to chest height, trying to get a good look at you. All he got in response was you shifting back and forth on his hand before letting out a little ‘mmhm’. Whitebeard laughed loudly, the sound was booming, much like his devil fruit ability, “Ace hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got on board, but he never said anything about you being this shy!”

“I’m not that shy, mister” you huffed.

He chuckled, “Quit being so formal, kid. You can call me pops, too.”

Your head cocked to the side and your nose scrunched up. “Pops? But you’re way too old to be my dad,” you deadpanned.

A hush fell over the crowd on deck, but only briefly. Then there was an uproar of laughter, including from Whitebeard himself.

You immediately got defensive, “What? You are!” This didn’t help at all, people were only laughing harder. Even some of the Straw Hats were cracking up. Seeing you go from being all shy to straight up calling him super old was pretty funny.

Visibly flustered, you tried to make a compromise in hopes of getting everyone to stop laughing at you, “H-How about I call you grandpa?”

Whitebeard froze at your proposal, it was obvious that he hadn’t been expecting to hear that. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times. A small, soft smile graced his features, “Sure. You can call me that if you want.” His attempt to put on a sterner voice wasn’t fooling anybody, everyone knew that just melted his heart.

“Okay, grandpa!” You smiled triumphantly.

“Can’t say I’ve been called that before. I guess even an old man like me can still have some firsts,” he mused.

“How have you never been called ‘grandpa’ before? You’re super old,” Luffy just had to interrupt the moment.

“Watch it, you brat.”

“Watch what?”

Whitebeard’s eye twitched and he exhaled sharply. He likely would have continued a back and forth with Luffy if you hadn’t started giggling about it. That ever so slight softening around his eyes showed again. For someone who was supposed to be the strongest man in the world, he sure was a softy.

You leaned back in his hand to look up at him, “Hey, grandpas are supposed to have lots of stories, right? Can you tell me some, please?” Your eyes were sparkling with hope at the prospect of hearing some fun tales of adventure.

He hummed in thought, “I suppose I’ve got a few, if you really want to hear stories from an old man like me.”

“Yes, I do!” You nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear.

Usopp was muttering next to Nami, offended that you were asking for stories from someone other than him. Nami slumped back in her seat as Whitebeard started one of his tales, looks like she was going to be there for a while yet. There was no telling how long this was going to go on for.

—

Nami jolted awake abruptly. Shit, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that! Sitting up right, she massaged her stiff neck and noted how the sky had gone from a pale blue to a warm orange. How long was she out for?!

Looking over to where she last saw you, she felt momentary relief at seeing you still there. You were curled up in Whitebeard’s hand, sound asleep. Whatever relief she had was quickly replaced with annoyance as she witnessed him lowering his hand and allowing Ace to pick you up.

Launching herself forward, she strode towards him, “Oh, look at that! She’s asleep, so that’s our cue to leave. Give her to me so I can tuck her into her bed.” She looked over her shoulder to the other Straw Hats, who were also taking an impromptu nap, “Everyone up! We’re leaving.”

Ace didn’t respond to her demand to hand you over. He just held you to his chest tighter and shot her a downright guilty look before speedwalking to where the personal cabins were. Magnolia sped after you two, meowing loudly at Ace.

Nami’s brow furrowed in agitation. What the hell did he think he was doing? “Hey! Get back here!”

“Sit down, Nami,” Whitebeard’s voice cut through the air. His tone was so strict that it actually made her pause.

She shook her head, “Don’t tell me what to do! It’s late, we need to get Lucky to bed.” A door opened and closed, and just like that, Ace and you were out of sight. It seems even Magnolia had gone inside. She cursed under her breath and stomped to the door, bound and determined to get you back.

“I said to sit down!” Whitebeard boomed. “We need to talk.”

There was an overwhelming weight on what felt like her very being that knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled, and as much as she wanted to curse at him, she couldn’t find the will to do so. Despite not at all wanting to, she retreated back to where her chair was. Nami’s willpower was no match for haki, much to her chagrin.

Now everyone was awake and very on edge from whatever it was that Whitebeard was about to say. It was only now that she noticed Marco perched on top of the throne. His face was perfectly neutral, not aiding at all in revealing what this talk was going to be about.

Sanji was visibly seething. He hated being away from his little princess, so Ace up and running away with you was not going over well with him, “What? What do you want to talk about so damn bad?”

“Lucky is going to be staying with us from now on.”

The deck was dead silent, it was as if even the waves had stopped.

“Who do you think you are?! You can’t decide that!” Sanji was out of his seat and stormed right at the captain.

Whitebeard didn’t even flinch, looking annoyed more than anything, “I can and I have. This is for her own good. If you all genuinely care about her well being then you will accept this.”

“Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?” Nami hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! This doesn’t make any sense, let me go get Ace!” Luffy, ever the optimist, assumed this must be a misunderstanding. He got up to go fetch his brother, but stopped dead in his tracks by what was said next.

“What are you hoping to accomplish with that? This was his idea,” Marco drawled.

“I knew it! I knew he was up to something!” Nami had never been more upset to be right about something.

When they were still making their way to the Moby Dick, Ace had abruptly hopped off their ship and onto his own boat. His reason for doing so was to let the crew know that they were coming, which Nami thought was bullshit. The Thousand Sunny was a massive ship, they could absolutely see them well before they got there. There was no need for Ace to go out ahead of them unless he wanted to speak with his crewmates privately. Which apparently, he did.

Luffy snapped out of his frozen state and made a run for the door, “No, he wouldn’t do that!”

Whitebeard grabbed his naginata and flung it outward, blocking Luffy’s path, “We’re not done talking yet, stay here.”

Luffy held his gaze for a solid minute, the tension in the air had everyone on edge. Begrudgingly, Luffy made his way back to where the rest of his crew was and stood with them, arms crossed. He spoke through gritted teeth, “Why?”

“I didn’t make this decision to be cruel. I decided on this because I want that kid to live a long life, and she won’t get to have one in your care,” Whitebeard stated coldly.

“You don’t know that! We’ve taken care of her for this long and we will keep doing so!” Robin protested. Her voice was wavering, choked in emotion.

“Have you? Were you really taking care of her when she was kidnapped and almost killed in Skypeia?” The words were harsh and painful to hear. Everyone was stammering for a response to that.

“That… That was a horrible mistake that will never happen again,” Robin’s voice was meek, guilt heavy in each word.

“Oh? So she wasn’t kidnapped again not long after that?”

Robin flinched at the accusing tone and curled in on herself. Franky reached over to place a supportive hand on her back and glared at Whitebeard, “That’s low.”

Nami’s face felt hot with shame. It was true that they had utterly failed you when Enel took you away. The awful state you were in when Luffy had finally gotten there and saved you would be burned into her memory for the rest of her life.

It was also true that you had been kidnapped again in Water 7, but how was she supposed to know that the shipwright that had gone to perform an assessment of their ship was going to make off like a bandit with you. Or that Zoro would fucking sleep through it. Sanji still hasn’t forgiven him for that.

At least you hadn’t been harmed that time around. A shock in hindsight considering what kind of a person that Kaku turned out to be.

If Whitebeard had any sympathy for them, he wasn’t showing it in the slightest. He openly sneered at them, “I don’t care if it’s “low”, you need to hear it. If you couldn’t keep her safe in the Grand Line, do you really think you’re going to be able to do so in the New World? You won’t. You’re all too young, too inexperienced. Just keeping your crew alive in the New World is a feat, keeping a small child alive is a completely different story. If I leave her with you lot, she will die.”

“You can’t just take her away like this! That’s our kid dammit!” Sanji looked like he was ready to go on a rampage, even if it killed him.

“You’re welcome to try and get her back. Though I wouldn’t recommend it,” Marco said coolly. His posture was relaxed, but the look in his eyes was anything but. His head gestured to the side, calling attention to several of Whitebeard’s commanders lurking around on the deck.

Jozu was as hard to miss as he was intimidating, Izou was cleaning one of his guns while fixing them with an unimpressed look, and Thatch was the only one that appeared to feel at least a little bad for them. Several others were milling about too, not directly interacting, but the threat was clear.

Don’t even try it.

“What if we became stronger?”

“What?” Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed at Luffy’s question.

“What if we became strong enough to protect her from anything?!” Luffy’s voice rose in volume.

“You can’t be serious, Luffy! Are you actually going to entertain this idea?!” Sanji turned on him in an instant, appalled that his captain seems to be considering it.

Luffy’s knuckles were white, his fists were clenched so tight that his fingernails were cutting into his palms and starting to drip blood onto the floorboards. He didn’t bother responding to Sanji, instead choosing to press Whitebeard for an answer to his question, “Well?!”

Whitebeard grinned, then chuckled, then started full on laughing. Luffy only continued to scowl at him, wanting to hear an answer already.

“You really think that you can accomplish that? You’re a cocky little brat, aren’t you?” Whitebeard chuckled again and rested his chin on his fist. He thought for a moment, then finally gave a proper answer, “Sure. If you can become so strong that you can actually protect the kid from anything then we’ll give her back.”

“Fine.” Luffy pulled his hat down over his eyes and turned away from the emperor. Without even looking at his crew, he spoke again, “Let’s go. We have a lot of work to do.”

“What are you saying?! We can’t just leave her here!” Sanji was borderline hysteric now.

“Will Lucky be safe in your care?” Luffy asked.

“She’ll be the safest kid in the world. Promise,” Marco assured him.

Luffy nodded, “Okay. We’ll be back for her. We’re leaving now, captain’s orders.”

Sanji tried to protest again, but Zoro clamped a hand onto his shoulder, “Stop. If Luffy says we need to leave, then we have to whether you like it or not.” Zoro’s other hand was closed around the hilt of one of his swords. His hand was shaking and his face was pinched, his eyes were strictly fixed onto the ground.

The cook slapped his hand away, chest heaving in fury. There was a pause, but he ultimately went towards the Thousand Sunny, not saying a word to anyone else while digging out a cigarette.

Everyone else was still in disbelief over what happened, but slowly began to make their way to their ship. The Whitebeard Pirates didn’t say anything else, letting them leave in silence. They all felt numb.

As soon as they were on the ship, Chopper ran to Robin for comfort with tears pouring down his face. She knelt down to comfort him, but it was evident from the vacant look in her eyes that she wasn’t fairing much better than he was.

Nami cornered Luffy, “What was that all about?! How could you just up and agree with him?!”

“He was right. We need to get stronger,” Luffy stated.

How could he be so calm about this?! Nami shoved his shoulder, screaming at him, “How do you even know that he’s going to keep his word about giving her back?!”

“I don’t. But we’re going to become so strong that it won’t matter if he does.” With that, Luffy left to go sit on the figurehead of the ship, needing time to think. To plot. Their going to need a damn good course of action to accomplish what they need to.

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Hopelessly Devoted to You

Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Yelena Belova x Fem!R (brief)

Summary: Wanda made a big mistake, but who hasn’t? She never said she was a saint. It upset her that you weren’t more understanding, but it upset her more to see you trying to move on. There was no one better for you than her; she planned to show you that in malicious ways.

🎼 “My head is sayin', "Fool, forget him" ; My heart is sayin', "Don't let go. Hold on to the end", that's what I intend to do. I'm hopelessly devoted to you. But now there's nowhere to hide. Since you pushed my love aside. I'm outta my head. Hopelessly devoted to you. 🎼

Warnings: Cheating, Breakup, Murder (beloved character), Kidnapping, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

Smut: Non-Con(Mind Manipulation), Top!R x PB!Wanda. Degradation, Strap(W), Oral (W), Choking, Squirting.

18+ | Minors DNI

Please, head the warnings, and don’t report.

(Images from Google)

——

Today was an amazing day for you, the mission you went on with Steve and Natasha was the final step taken to make you an Avenger. You were on top of the world after your oldest pal, Steve, shook your hand before yanking you in for a bear hug, "I knew you had it in you kid."

"Steve, I'm only three years younger than you and Buck, and I'm an Avenger now, cool it."

Natasha smirked, then she also pulled you in for a hug, but it was far less brutal, and you found her abundant warmth comforting.

Nothing was meant to ruin your shine today, but as you exited the jet to find only Tony and Yelena stood there your entire mood deflated. Bucky, your older brother was nowhere to be found, but more importantly neither was your girlfriend, and that was becoming her trend.

——

It was like a switch went off one day, and she just decided that living blissfully with you and your pigmy cats in the condo Tony bought for the two of you wasn't her cup of tea anymore.

At first you were devastated by the loss of her affections, but now, you're honestly fine with it. Over the years her loving hold became a bit too tight, a gentle cupping of your cheek turned into a harsh gripping of your chin. A night of passionate love making turned into a war-zone, the mattress no longer a place of solace, but instead a battlefield where you lost your love. It'd been as if a monster dead set on carnality took over your soft Sokovian girlfriend's body, and had no intentions of letting her go again.

It's suffice to say you were expecting her to be absent from your return, but what you weren't expecting was to hear the sound of her moans as you entered the once comforting home. After a moment of being frozen in time, a deja vu like experience for you, you decided that you were jumping the gun in assuming the worst.

So you slipped your jacket off, along with your shoes, then made a beeline for your sleeping felines so you could calm your anxiety down a smidge before you got the courage to pinpoint the source of your girlfriend's clear euphoria.

"Wish me luck loves," you muttered into their fur as you place a kiss to each of their faces.

Sadly though, no amount of preparation could have been enough for the sight you walked in on. Bucky, your found brother, the man who's family took you in after your family died in a plane wreck, was pounding into your lover. There wasn't an ounce of remorse in his stance, and you knew by the way Wanda screamed out in pleasure that she definitely didn't feel bad.

Neither of them acknowledged your presence, but you knew by the sight of Wanda's slight smile that she knew you were there, and that made you sick to your very core. The idea that you'd given her the best years of your life just for her to throw it in your face so devastatingly was far too hard for you to bare in the moment.

All you knew was that you needed to get out, and you needed to do it right away, and it was as you loudly shuffled about the space that finally broke your 'brothers' focus, and got Wanda to see her plan coming to life.

Or better yet, crumbling before her very eyes.

Wanda watched you frantically stuffing your belongings in a duffle bag, and in this moment her every recent decision was backfiring.

"Baby, it was a mistake, please don't leave!"

"Mistakes don't occur with these precise of calculations," you spit while tossing your bag over your shoulder, "Your choices, Wanda, those do however come with consequences."

"Y/N, please, she’s right—it was a mistake."

"No, save your pleading for someone who cares Bucky, as far as I'm concerned my brother died with his arm—James would never have hurt me like this," you shoved by him, only to be stopped by Wanda blocking the front door.

"Y/N/N, I'm begging you, don't leave me!"

A bitter chuckle rumbles from your chest, hot tears too fill your eyes as the anger and sadness blend into one, "Now you," you paused to reel your emotions in as best you could, "God, I can't believe I ever believed you loved me."

"I do love you. Y/N, please listen to me."

"Newsflash Wanda: Love isn't meant to hurt!"

Wanda frowned, her tone serious enough to match her state of delusions, "All the greatest love stories come with a mix of love and pain."

"In Hollywood movies—sure, in real life, no."

Wanda's eyes were slowly changing hues to her secondary shade, crimson, and that was your sign to get out before she was to implode.

"Don't look for me," you reiterated your clear stance, "I'm no longer yours to seek out," and with the twist of your wrist you were gone.

Wanda crumpled to her knees, of all the many scenarios she ran through, this wasn't one of the ones she foresaw. For some reason she thought you'd fall apart, and need her to bring you back out of the slump her cheating caused. Hell, she even chose your brother for the shock but it seems you couldn't have cared any less.

"Wanda," Bucky crouched down, offering her a smile, but it only masqueraded happiness, his cerulean orbs were swimming with guilt.

The sight of the man now made her nauseous.

"Get out Barnes," Wanda snarled, pushing his extended hand away she removed her body from in front of the door, "This was a mistake."

After your defeated, cheat of a chosen brother left your once shared apartment Wanda's eyes returned to a serene shade of green. It was funny how you thought you had a choice here, taking off in a huff like that as if she couldn't find you just as fast as you could teleport.

Wanda however was methodical, she would let you think you were free to roam as you pleased. Then, when you least expected it, she'll reclaim you as hers, because you would always be hers. She just has to set up a few things beforehand.

——

It was a long three months, but the witch was taking the time to set up your cabin in Norway while also giving you a false sense of security.

Back when things were still going well, she remembered your dreams of retiring in a secluded little cabin with her, and your family. Whether that be the pets, or the kids you both had always wanted, logistics didn't matter to her much at the end of the day, only you did.

Her precious baby Y/N, poor, unsuspecting fool that she is, would soon be hers again, and with that came a promise of total permanence.

When she finally returned to New York she could feel your aura, it was no longer dull, and that made her heart twinge with momentary guilt, but it was swiftly forgotten when she stumbled upon you settled into the lap of Yelena at a cafe; she nearly lost all control.

—

You had no idea of the prying eyes, sure you felt an uneasiness in your chest as you walked down the streets of New York with Yelena, but you just chocked that up to the late night hour.

"Y/N, would you like to gaze at the stars?" you smiled softly at your friend, you weren't yet a couple, but it has been fun testing the waters.

Yelena was everything Wanda no longer is, and you’re honestly starting to believe that maybe she never was. Yelena was funny, and though she was snarky, it never was something you experienced directly. With you all she ever offered was an unfamiliar gentleness, and an abundant patience you felt undeserving of, it was as if with every passing day she was able to remind you that you deserved to be cared for without any sort of underlying stipulation.

"Of course, I'll go grab us a blanket," you settled a sweet kiss on her cheek, not missing the way the stoicism melted as she blushed.

"Bring snacks too!" Yelena shouted after you, voice cracking as she did, but you didn't let her know you caught it, instead you softly chuckled then disappeared around the corner. “Chips!”

The further you walked away from Yelena the more you were starting to feel a surge in intensity surrounding your ever growing uneasiness. Stargazing with her was one of your favorite things to do so you’re not sure why you were so anxious, but you chocked it up to something reminiscent of first date jitters.

You entered your apartment with a swiftness, not wanting to leave the blonde waiting for long. So you changed into a comfy sweatsuit, scrounged around the kitchen for her chips, then grabbed your fluffiest of blankets. After about ten short minutes you made your way up the long set of stairs to gain access to the roof. Your apartment building had many faults, but the luxurious patio wasn’t one of them.

“Hey Lena, I brought you Doritos, both cool ranch and nacho, and the off brand hot fries.”

“Y/N, get out of here, now!”

You looked up instantly, the bags in your hands hit the ground as you saw Yelena dangling over the streets of New York, you didn’t see her yet, she was cloaked by shadows, but the wisps of red holding the girl hostage told you who the perp was, “Wanda, put her down, now!”

“Okay,” Wanda shrugged with an indifference in her eyes as she made her self visible, the light of the moon showcasing her wicked grin, effectively stealing the air from your lungs as she slowly began removing her magic from around the young blonde’s body. Agonizingly slowly too, you regretted the words as soon as you said them, of course she’d take it literally.

“No, Wanda, please,” you shrieked, “Let her go, and I’ll go with you, wherever you want me to.”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Wanda pursed her lips as she gave way to thought, “She knew better than to touch what isn’t hers, yet she did it anyways, she clearly didn’t care about consequences.”

“Y/N, you need to get out of here, please go,” Yelena kept her face neutral, but you heard the slight quiver in her voice, saw the fear in her eyes, you knew she was beyond terrified; it was a bit morbid, but the way she cared for you even while in danger because of you warmed your heart while simultaneously breaking it.

“Wanda, she’s just a friend,” you tried, but all she did was offer you incredulous laughter, “You’re playing games Y/N, and you know whenever we play together, I always win.”

“Wanda! This isn’t a game, leave Yelena out of this, we can go, nobody will come for us.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m clueless, they’re all going to come to save you,” Wanda spat, “Yelena isn’t the only one in my way, so, it seems all I can do is slow them down,” she flicked her wrists, and Yelena went falling.

“No!”

Just as you were about to teleport to catch the blonde Wanda paralyzed your mind into a state of half consciousness, she wrapped you up and lifted you above the edge, tilting your body so you were parallel to the second victim of your tainted love, the first one being your own heart. Yelena lay in a jagged shape, limbs bending in ways they were never meant to, in a growing pool of blood, you felt an urge to vomit, but the paralyzation prevented it from ever surging.

“What a shame she had to die,” Wanda mockingly mourned the woman she killed, with a wide smile on her face to contrast the tears trailing down yours, “She was really funny.”

A blur of red surrounded your bodies like a force field, you blinked, never to open your eyes with joy again. It wasn’t something you registered at first, but when you finally allowed your eyes to flutter open you saw glimmering rays of sunlight hovering above your face.

To your shock there was no restraint system in place, besides the hardly dressed body of your ex. You silently retched at the sight of her fitting so perfectly into the crook of your elbow. An image reminiscent of olden times, when you were blissfully unaware of her unhinged status, but no longer could you look at her with love.

Wanda was a monster, that much you would carry in your heart until the day you died. Likely at her hands at this very point…

“I wouldn’t kill you Y/N,” she sighed in a slur, shortly to be followed up by a dainty yawn, “You’re my greatest love Y/N; destined to be forever you and me darling, you’re safe here.”

You scoffed, ripping your arm from beneath her body, “I’m no safer in a volcano than I am with you Wanda, you’re a sick, vile creature!”

Wanda grit her teeth as she moved to hover above you, her hand harshly slapped you in the face, causing a pool of blood to gather as you had bit your tongue, “Watch your tone whore.”

“Make me,” you growled, a flicker of insanity rolled through your eyes and she smirked, you could pretend all you wanted that you weren’t, but you were just as crazy as she was. “I will.”

Wanda removed herself from your eye-line, but she didn’t stay gone for long, soft red wisps permeated your temple, you audibly gasped, “Wanda, knock it the fuck off right now.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, your words were not convincing enough when your thighs were shamelessly rubbing together. Her wrist flicked, changing the imagery in your mind from her in the nude with her hands in her pussy to one of you fucking her from behind.

“Wanda, please stop,” you were losing your will to fight off her advances with every passing scene, each one more sinful than the last, you were always fucking weak when it came to her.

After only three more scenes she’d come out triumphant. “I need to taste you, please.”

“But what about Yelena?” she feigned heartbreak, “I thought we were in mourning.”

“W-Wanda please,” you begged, a pit of need settled beside the deeper pit of guilt in your abdomen, “I, I need to fuck you so bad.”

Wanda snorted, “Look at you, I just killed your girlfriend and you’re desperate to fuck me.”

The glare you sent would normally intimidate the person on the receiving end, but Wanda one upped you with a soft tilting of her head. Just like always you softened, a docile air to you as you let the fear sink into your bones. Wanda smirked at you, a show of victory if you will, because as angry as you presented, she was still the one who wins in the end. You might top, but she’s always the one in control.

With a synchronous blink you both reopened to find all layers had been shred from your bodies and the only addition was the massive black strap dangling between your legs.

“Go on detka, make me cum, I won’t ask twice.”

For a moment you were stuck in place, there was an insane amount of slick coating the inner thighs of your former lover, it left you stunned. Wanda watched as you reflexively licked your lips as you eyed her with lust clouded eyes.

“With your strap, you know tasting me is a reward you have to earn,” you rolled your eyes, but like an obedient puppy you give in, with a care you honestly didn’t feel you guided the tip through her folds to collect her essence, you swiped two fingers through next in route to her swollen bundle of nerves where you began to harshly rub circles into it, distracting her from the pain as you pushed the fat tip past her tight hole. The stretch alone brought her to the edge, she knew it wouldn’t be long before she fell.

There was no love in your movements, you rut your hips with ferocity, grunted into her neck angrily as you were frustrated with yourself for enjoying this twisted reality of sinfulness. Wanda’s moans were enraging you, it was a confusing feeling in your body, you desperately wanted to bring her body to the edge of bliss, while impossibly wanting her to not enjoy it.

“Fuck me harder detka! Make me cum!”

“Shut the fuck up Wanda,” you growled as you rose, a firm hand now sat on her hip to hold you up so you could utilize the other to constrict her airway. Fingers wrapped tightly around her throat as your hips fucked your strap so much deeper into her than before due to a shift in angle, and thus she was losing the ability to match you in both pace and vigor.

Wanda clawed at your arm when you tightened your grip almost dangerously. The fear you caused only aided in the unraveling of the pit in her stomach, her orgasm came out in a gush, soaking your thighs and the grey sheets below.

Even in the hatred of it all you couldn’t fight the way your heart fluttered at the gorgeous sight of her coming undone for you. No one else could ever make her this fucked out, with her eyes having had to of rolled to the depths of hell with how far they retracted into her body.

The way her chest heaved incessantly once you let your grip of her go, dark red lines left in your wake that added to her overall beauty. Layered perfectly over the harsher marks you’d already left behind with your grazing teeth.

Wanda pulled you in for a brief kiss, it was sloppy, and full of a mutual aggression as your teeth clashed, and hers drew blood from your lips when she held onto your lower one while lightly shoving you backwards as a hint to remove the strap from within her, and once again you did as she wanted like a weak bitch.

“Clean up the mess you made,” Wanda barked, spreading her legs even wider for you to see just what you’d done after strapping her, it disgusted you just how excited you were to be allowed to taste her, reaping a tainted reward.

Her words echoed in your mind as you realized the mess spread beyond this room. Because back home your friends mourned, and buried Yelena all the while you were across seas in Norway in a somewhat similar state, immense guilt pounding in your chest as your face was buried between the legs of the devil herself

They always say, to know love is to know pain; loving Wanda was akin to a dagger to the heart, a passionate surge of adrenaline, followed by waves of agony, and boy was it a messy affair.

——

3,196 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥰

#wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff angst #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x bucky barnes #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader

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catsafarithewriter · 9 months

Text

A/N: PART 10 of the Bedlam au. We're onto double digits babyyyyy

Climbing in through a third floor window is a lot more cumbersome, Baron rediscovers, without a convenient crow to fly one up. Luckily, Muta does offer an alternative, even if it does require yet another shape-shifting change.

"This does feel a tad undignified," Baron remarks as, now transformed into a full cat, the two felines sit by the apartment block's door and wait for a passing resident to take pity on them.

"It would've been a whole less dignified if we'd tried scaling the wall," Muta reminds him. "Now, shush and follow my lead."

A man coming back from a grocery run approaches the door, but pauses before he reaches the key panel. Even laden with bags, he shoots the cats a grin. "Hello there, Moon. And you've even got a friend. You want in?"

Muta gives a low, plaintive mew.

"Gotcha. Give me a moment..." The man taps the code into the panel, and there's a click as the door lock releases. He nudges the door open. "There you go. Someday they should just put in a cat flap for you, huh?"

Muta gives an agreeing mew and slips inside. Baron follows suit, and their benefactor even shares the elevator with them, stopping at the third floor without even asking.

"You've done this before," Baron accuses once they're safely alone on the third floor corridor. "How often have you snuck in like this?"

"When I do it, it's called visiting," Muta says, "and Haru's around to let me in. Today, though..." And he ignores the doors to the flats, making instead a beeline for an ajar window. He slips out onto the ledge which is far too narrow for humans, and only slightly too narrow for cats.

Baron follows after, and watches with blatent disapproval as Muta jiggles open the next window along. "This looks an awful lot like breaking and entering," Baron remarks.

"Relax. This window was busted long before Haru moved in."

"Strangely enough, that doesn't reassure me."

"It's rented, isn't it? Chicky's lucky the place came with carpet." Muta clambers inside and glances back to his unwilling accomplice. "So are ya coming in, or does your moral sensibilities forbid it?"

Baron scowls, but ducks inside.

The room they've found themselves in is clearly Haru's room – judging by the coat hanging on the door and the general messiness which neither growing up nor a life-changing experience in the Cat Kingdom had altered. It looks slept-in, but not so much lived-in, with the mess only extending as far as laundry and bedsheets. The book Baron had last seen Haru reading is still bearing a bookmark.

"Does anything look amiss?" Baron asks.

"Why're you asking me?"

"You're the one who has been here before."

Muta grumbles, and drops down onto the desk just beneath the window. "She ain't exactly gonna leave a big ol' SOS sign for us. Although..." He jumps down onto the floor and sticks a paw into the small plastic bin.

"Muta! What do you think you're doing?"

"Looking for clues?" He pulls out some crumpled paper, smooths through it, and then drops it back in to continue rummaging. "Dentist appointment... noodle packets... junk mail..."

"Were you hoping to find Toto perhaps tucked away in there?" Baron asks dryly.

"I was expecting to find – I dunno, ice cream tubs, tissues, bad poetry, whatever it is people do these days when they get their heart broken." He shoots Baron a pointed look. "There's not even a chocolate wrapper in here."

"Maybe she's sturdier than you seem to think," Baron says.

"If you believed that, you wouldn't have kicked her out," Muta mutters. "And she's plenty sturdy, but she got her heart trampled on and then pushed out entirely. I'd expect some sign of that."

"Her flatmate seems to be of the impression that she's still volunteering with us," Baron says. "Maybe she's found something else to occupy her time."

Muta's head shoots up out of the bin. "Yer right. Her bag's up there on the desk – the one she always took on cases – perhaps that'll tell us what she's been up to."

"I am not going through her bag."

Muta groans. "Fine. I'll do it then."

"You're not–"

Muta leaps up onto the desk. In their current forms, he towers over Baron. "Yeah, I am. And if you were at all paying attention, instead of trying to ignore it in hopes you don't have to face the consequences of your mess, then you'd wonder why the bag Haru took on Bureau cases looks like it was used yesterday."

Baron blinks, and then looks anew at the bag. He now notes the fresh burn along the strap, and the scratches along the base; he sees the way it slumps, as if absent-mindedly thrown to one side after a long day. Unease flares up inside him. "Is she... still going on cases?"

"It ain't her if she ain't sticking her nose in someone else's business," Muta snorts, and rolls the bag onto its side. "And... bingo."

Baron knows well the items which Muta drags out – the first aid kit, the heavy-duty torch, a pocket knife, to name but a few – all bundled up and clearly still in use. "She's still..."

"Obviously." Muta trawls a paw through the bag's depths. "Wonder where she's getting the clients from. I mean, we've got a whole setup at the Bureau, and she's not exactly able to hand out business cards, is she?"

Baron's heart twists as fresh dents in the torch catch the light. It looks as though it was used to fend something off. "Her leaving was meant to keep her safe," he laments. "Not leave her to throw herself into yet more trouble."

"Eh, you know what they say. Yer can take the Chicky outta the Bureau, but yer can't take the Bureau out of the Chicky... or something like that. Huh. That's new."

"What's new?"

Muta picks out a tiny doll, small enough to fit comfortably within a human palm. It's built like an old rag doll, soft stuffing and button eyes, and is unmistakably, unerringly, designed after Haru. "Never figured her to be the doll type."

"I don't believe she is."

They stare down at the tiny doll. After a dubious moment, Muta turns it over so its button eyes are watching the desk surface. "This ain't one of those 'transformed into a toy' kinda deals, is it? Y'know, where something else takes her place? 'Cause it wouldn't be the first time."

Baron cautiously raises a paw towards the doll. He can feel magic rolling off it – but there is not the tang of shape-shifting to it. Instead, the magic feels... off. Baron withdraws his hand. His mouth tastes dusty, like cobwebs. "The magic's not of this world," he says, "nor any the Bureau has encountered, but it's not a shape-shifting spell."

"Then what? 'Cause we both know she's doesn't empty her bag out, just refills it, and that thing was right at the bottom." Muta eyes the doll warily. "It's been there for a while."

"She would have brought up if she'd come into possession of it while with us," Baron adds.

"Yeah. But she didn't."

"Maybe a grateful client gave it to her." He still hopes that this is all a misunderstanding, that in pushing her away, he didn't leave her stranded in deeper trouble, but he knows – looking at that doll – that something is terribly amiss.

"Yeah, and maybe she didn't know it was there at all. I don't know, it just gives me the heebie jeebies."

Baron allows himself a raised eyebrow. "The heebie jeebies?" he echoes.

"Yeah. It's the eyes." Muta shivers. "The Cat Kingdom has stories of button-eyed monsters, and they ain't pretty."

Baron straightens, stepping back from the doll. "What kind of monsters?"

"I can't remember – this was back before I met you, when I was still on speaking terms with the Cat Kingdom."

"Well then, it's just as well you are again." Baron reverts back to his usual Creation shape. "Back on speaking terms with the Cat Kingdom. I think it's time we made a visit to their library."

#bedlam au

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐫

↳ summary: driving around the one and only members of my chemical romance can get a little silly at times

↳ song: DESTROYA—mcr

↳ warnings: none

masterlist!

It was all white noise to you at this point. Sounds that years from now would remind you of hot days and cold nights on the road. The content purr of the bus—almost mimicking the rumbling of a content feline laying on a soft sun filled carpet—was something you could fall asleep to more times than not.

Then there was the droning of music in the background that was stuffed away between thick layers of other noises. Guitars and drums blaring away for an invisible crowd cheering the breath out of their very lungs. All things that had been engraved into your brains very essance by now.

And of course, the ever present chatter of crew buzzing about on the outsides of the bus—as if working was their only purpose in life.

Most of all however, the day someone pried this job out of your cold dead hands, you would miss the upward tilt of your lips as you reached for the faded button that opened the bus's automatic doors. Watching patiently as your four band memebers slowly made their way to your vehicle.

You always made sure to greet them with a tip of your brimmed hat.

Four tired, hunched over, and weary men stumbled up the few bus steps, narrowly avoiding the fast closing door behind them that had been meaning to get fixed for the past three years. Each of them eerily resembled college students the day before exams. Pale, sleep deprived, and looking like they stepped straight out of a hot topic. Yet among the rows of eyebags and salty beads of sweat cascading down the back of their necks and matting the ends of their hair into clumps, their eyes lit up and softened as they laid eyes on the driver in front of them.

“That bad?” You said with a sympathetic smile, trying to be as compassionate as you could to the quartet now dispersing and making a sluggish beeline for different parts of the bus. But the twitch in the bridge of your nose gave away your slight smile—which unsurprisingly did nothing to upset anyone.

(Most of anything you did couldn't even come close upset those four. Hell, if you had gone around and asked anyone that even remotely knew the "all american band My Chemical Romance”, as the tabloids referred to them, they could and would tell you that their busdriver was one of the most prized members of their crew.)

“God no. It was too good. That was th' problem.” A muffled voice came from the back of the vehicle. You twisted in your well worn, but still very comfortable, drivers seat to spy a cloud of long brown curls cresting from just over the very top of a mini fridges door. The owner of the head of hair—which was currently being pulled up into a bun with one hand, an elastic hair tie sat tightly between two rows of teeth while the only other available hand held a chilled soda—rose from his position on one knee as he started walking back to you.

“Oh yeah? How so Ray?” You had responded—only after checking to make sure it wasn't your last doctor pepper that he was holding. And even if it had been, with the way Ray was chugging it, the drink would have already been half gone by the time you ever laid a hand on the aluminum surface.

“Gee got into the zone. Again.” Ray managed to gurgle out through a gulp of his soda, a little of the sticky brown liquid dribbling out with the effort. Four pairs of eyes then turned to look at the name in question, whom of which paused from taking off a set of elaborately buckled combat boots to look up at the sudden lull.

Gerard simply smiled after mentally catching up to the conversation. A hand reached up to push some black hair back, still stringy with sweat.

“I mean can you blame me?” He said as he resumed untying the well did and taunt strings around the bottom of his calf. “The crowd seemed to really love us tonight, and after the last few shows, I don't know. I just got really into it.”

“And that's fine and all. Until you start singing an extra song that wasn't even on the setlist for this show and I have to tune my guitar like I'm being watched by thousands of people. Oh wait, I was.” The singer's brother had lumbered over towards him sometime during his explanation, flicking his forehead playfully while speaking with a faux mad tone. Gerard just swatted back at Mikey, moving his foot towards himself quickly as the other attempted to stomp on it. Frank made up for the shot that Mikey had missed by doing it himself, successfully kicking Gerard's boot off and making the man yelp. You had to stifle your laugh at that one.

“The only reason we’re not kicking that bastard off the bus right now for that stunt—" Frank grunted as he avoided Rays now empty soda can Gerard had just thrown at him, “—is because he was the only one out of all of us that remembered to get you your present. Nearly died trying to as well. The stage manager lost his shit when we showed up two minutes late since we got held up at the gift shop.”

Despite the fact that they were all playing the blame game right now, which you found hilarious I should note, the mention of a gift made your stomach tingle.

“Aww. Going soft on me now, are you Way?” You jested.

“Huh?”

“Not you Mikey. And hey, hands off that fucking soda. Its mine you little sneak. Not my fault Ray grabbed the last one before you.”

You received a half-hearted glare and reshelving of a soda at that comment, just around the same time Gerard spoke up again.

“So what if I'm going soft? Is it that bad that I want our favorite employee and friend of five years—” One of the other bandmates tossed out a ‘six and a half, actually!’ from the back, to which Gerard nodded and corrected himself, “—to receive a gift from their favorite people in the world?”

"I wouldn't say favorite people—"

"We are literally the only other people you know." Frank deadpanned, saying your name while raising an eyebrow.

"Alright you caught me."

“Besides. It is sort of a tradition for us to get you a gift at least once during a tour since you refuse to let us buy you anything else." Ray commented. "It's in your contract after all.”

You merely grunted at the ever present mention of money and gifts, something you never liked receiving from the boys without earning it first.

“I still have my doubts about that little contract comment. But you all know I'm too lazy to go through all that damn paperwork just to spite you.”

“Well in that case, here you go!"

A small object was tossed in your direction by Gerard, the thing landing directly into the palm of your finely calloused and beaten up hands—thanks to years of gripping a steering wheel Also, flipping one to many people off in heavy highway traffic. Mostly flipping random people off, to be honest.

The object you were cradling was a light black. Gray? Gray. A small, gray teddy bear no bigger than the entire circumference of your palm. The cute charm was holding a tiny felt rose in its arms along with a heart that read in a text so small it was almost impossible to read, 'I Love You Beary Beary Much!!' And to an outsiders eyes, whether that be the person reading this story or someone who might have passed by one of the busses windows at that very moment, it wouldn't have seemed that important. Just a small if impractical toy.

But from the way you suddenly beamed and your face suddenly became hot to the touch, the boys knew they had done right.

The figure was carefully placed and secured on the dashboard across from you, more tiny little figures of the same cheesy-esqe puns and all surrounding the new addition. Even if they did this every tour, you always found it in them to be just as flattered as the last time. If not more.

"Alright." You cleared your throat, ignoring the prideful smiles that were showing behind you. "Let's get this show on the road, boys. Buckle up because the next stop won't be for a while."

Cracking your knuckles in one smooth motion, you turned around after sending a silent thank you to Gerard with one of the most joyus smiles he had seen from anyone in a long long time.

"And Frank, put your pants back on. You all don't pay me enough to deal with that."

#mcr #mcr x reader #my chemical romance #my chemical romance x reader #gerard way #mikey way #ray toro #frank ireo #gerard way x reader #mikey way x reader #ray toro x reader #frank ireo x reader #bands #band #reader insert

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poisonouswritings · 2 years

Text

So one of my lovely mutuals (who I will not be naming but You Know Who You Are) just emotionally traumatized me so!!! I'm gonna write a little bit of fluff!!!!!

M4 At the Zoo

GN!Reader, Good End™, it's one in the morning over here so bare with me and my inevitable spelling mistakes

Okay so,,

Anisa is the most excited. Then Felix. Then Rime. Then Sage. But if You Are Excited, the boys will try to match your enthusiasm level. Anisa is Significantly More Excited Than You No Matter How Excited You Are

Okay listen,,, I need some Cat!Sage right now,,,,, and so I'm gonna say the reason he isn't really enthused about going is because he's territorial over you so he doesn't like All The Other Animals getting so close. Imagine you're just excitedly pointing at a maned wolf or something and Sage is just hugging you from behind and glaring at it because No This Is His Human The Wolf Can Go Find A Different One >:(

Anyways the others are all reasonable.

Normally I would say that you and your partner kinda go off together but honestly?? You and Rime have to keep the other three on leashes. You decide how literally to take that statement.

I,, couldn't tell you why,,, but,, I think Rime would really like the reptiles!!! The area is cool and dark and quiet and I think he finds that peaceful. Plus the snakes and lizards look cool. You guys get to watch a live feeding.

I think Felix would really enjoy like,, the tigers and lions and cougars and stuff. The felines. They have a really elegant but powerful stride and just look a lot cooler. Plus he wants to point at all of them and go 'Look MC It's Stella' because he thinks it's funny

Sage wants to see the birds!!! You have to keep a hold of him so he doesn't suddenly pounce, but for the most part I think he genuinely just likes watching them. A lot of them have cool and colorful plumage and interesting calls! There's plenty going on to keep him stimulates. Totally not projecting here.

Do I even have to tell you? Anisa is beelining to the aquarium. She is Pressing Her Nose Against The Glass and Hopping From Foot To Foot and generally just Vibing. Points at ones she think would be particularly tasty. But I think the sound of the ocean (over the loudspeakers) and the chilly air that blows like a sea breeze and the cool blue tones of the room are just,, Aesthetic for her.

So at one point Sage is being obnoxious and Rime pulls on his hair and while he is annoyed Sage also gets flustered,,,, and then you hide behind Anisa and go 'OKAY DID Y'ALL USED TO FUCK OR SOMETHING' and then they're both chasing you while Anisa and Felix try to keep you from getting murdered. You only get saved because a zookeeper stops all three of you but then they lecture you about running so there's that

Anisa! Wants! To Feed! All The Animals! Let her!!! And if they have those animal shows?? I'm sorry but You're Going To All Of Them. Also You're In The Splash Zone. You can get a poncho if you want. Sage says you both smell like animal water but Anisa Is Happy so it's worth it.

Felix and Sage disappear for like an hour and when they get back they're mysteriously covered in dirt. You ask what happened and long story short they fell into the tiger enclosure and Felix had to portal them out. If I were you I would suggest getting an actual leash by now.

That Being Said, Rime and Felix offer to get you closer to your favorite animal. You point out that you would immediately be thrown out of the zoo but Rime just pats your head and tells you Not To Worry, (One Of) Your Big Strong Wizard Boyfriend(s) Can Handle That. And your Other Super Strong Wizard Boyfriend is great at making portals and can get you in super easily :)

Rime being the Responsible Friend™ and he has a backpack full of water and snacks and he makes you all take a break to monch. Sage snuck a flask in of course. If you're discreet you can get away with it. Rime will take it away if he catches you guys tho. Anisa has some of those food pellets still in her pocket and she ends up not only eating one, but convincing Felix and Sage to eat one too.

The Starsworn Share One Braincell I'm Sorry

Sage is inevitably going to make a 'doing it like animals' joke/flirt. Depending on how you respond it might not be a joke. He's not afraid of fucking in the bathroom. Do with that as you will.

You guys go to the gift shop. Anisa, Felix, and Sage all get something for their respective family members. Rime thinks it's pitiful if he gets himself something so you get him something, and then he gets something for you.

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #felix escellun #felix iskandar escellun #anisa anka #sage Lesath #rime solano varela #rime varela #ozzy daydreams #fictif felix #fictif anisa #fictif sage #fictif rime

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pizza-is-my-buziness · 2 years

Note

Okay, bestie. "library / bookshop date" + "isn't this stuff for kids?" OR "it looks lovely and cozy in here?"

I need you to know I had a lot of feels reading this prompt list and thinking about our favorite fictional lesbians, and my wife called me out for smiling at my phone while thought about which prompts to send you.

Obviously Sam/Deena makes sense, but you can do Sarah/Hannah. I trust you.

Okay I definitely did my best with this one and tried to keep it from turning into a meandering mess! Shout out to both @readyfortigers and the fabulous anon who always drops by my inbox to entice me with feels and ideas about future Sam and Deena...hopefully this is a decent foray into "Sam and Deena are soulmates and happy forever while owning their own business" territory because I love it so much.

And I changed up one word here or there with the dialogue prompts to make them sound more naturally like something Deena would say.

Deena rolls over, opening her eyes to find a pair of overly large, golden eyes peering back at her, which is not exactly how she’d hoped to start off her morning. Sunday mornings are ideally spent lingering in bed for as long as possible, putting off any and all responsibilities until they can be ignored no longer, preferably while cuddling up with the human that Deena would much rather find in bed beside her. Unfortunately, it seems like what she gets is an empty bed and the judgment of a feline.

“You aren’t Sam.” The cat flicks her tail, blinking slowly, and Deena adds, “No offense.”

Stevie Nicks, the cat and not the rock star, seems as unimpressed now as she had been moments earlier, making herself comfortable on Sam’s side of the bed. Sam’s unfortunately empty side of the bed.

For a moment, Deena continues her staring contest, listening to the apartment around her for any trace of where Sam is and what she might be doing. Or, rather, what she’s seemed to have decided is more important than indulging in their Sunday morning ritual of doing absolutely nothing. But the apartment is silent without even the sound of creaking floorboards to give Sam away and so Deena shoves the blankets aside, swinging her legs out of bed and forcing her bare feet to connect with the cold floor. Even this far out from what could be deemed a proper winter, the apartment’s heating still leaves something to be desired…which is really just another point in favor of not getting out of bed at all.

There’s a pot of coffee already brewed and a mug sitting on the counter with a post it note stuck to the handle, Sam’s familiar handwriting offering a single clue as to why Deena has woken up alone: downstairs.

And so, downstairs is exactly where Deena goes, taking the stairs carefully so she doesn’t slosh any of the still steaming coffee over the edge of the mug and onto her fingers like she’s done too many times to garner any sympathy. She bumps the door open with her hip, the sounds of Dolly Parton filling the otherwise quiet space and Deena makes a beeline in the direction of the register and the record player that spins on the counter top most of the time, the two of them keeping a milk crate of records on the floor for personal use. Still, there is no Sam in sight, something that is becoming more and more disappointing with every occurrence.

But the front window display of the store seems to have become transformed sometime since they’d closed up the night before, the shelving draped with cottony cobwebs and artificially golden leaves that scream autumn. A stack of books is already sitting there, ready for display, with Bunnicula right on top and the sight of it immediately brings a smile to Deena’s face, mostly because with it comes the memory of reading it with Sam in the weeks before they’d left Shadyside behind when their efforts to pack up all the things Sam “absolutely could not be without” had really just involved taking a trip through all her favorite childhood books. All of which, Deena would like to point out, have made every single move with them ever since.

Turning down the volume on the record player, Deena calls, “Sam? Where are you?”

The sound of something clattering to the floor is the response that she gets and when Deena winds her way through the shelves in the direction of the sound, she’s not surprised to find Sam already on her hands and knees, trying to gather up a battalion of plastic bats and throwing them back into the box. “What are you doing?”

Sam looks up, holding up one of the plasticky winged creatures. “Trying to clean these up so we can-”

“I mean,” Deena says, kneeling down to help with the collection effort, “what are you doing down here instead of still asleep in bed which is definitely a much better place to be.”

Sam doesn’t look like she’s inclined to argue, though she does offer Deena an apologetic scrunch of her nose. “I just couldn’t sleep…I kept thinking about everything we had to do and…” She shrugs. “I didn’t want to wake you up. I thought at least one of us should be able to sleep in.”

They both stand and Deena steps forward to take the box from Sam’s arms, mostly because it gives her the chance to lean closer and press her lips to Sam’s. “You should’ve,” she says against Sam’s lips, reluctant to step away even though there are definitely more ideal places for a good morning kiss as far as Deena is concerned. “That way you don’t have to do all this by yourself.”

There are certain things Sam is certainly more suited for when it comes to running the store, just like Deena knows where her own fortes are. Bookkeeping, for instance, and talking people out of making some truly horrendous musical choices as they comb through the store’s selection of vinyl. The window display, or what currently exists of it, is proof of just one of Sam’s strong suits, because Deena knows that if she were in charge of making the store at all inviting for the upcoming Halloween season, it would look more like the dumpster behind a grocery store as they transitioned to their Christmas merchandise. In the past three years, everything charming and aesthetically pleasing about the store has been thanks to Sam, though Deena likes to imagine that while people might be drawn in thanks to the charming décor, they stay for the absolutely epic music selection.

“I know,” Sam says with a shrug, her hand settling briefly against the nape of Deena’s neck as she holds her close for one last kiss. “I told Stevie Nicks to keep you company instead.”

Deena rolls her eyes, following Sam back toward the front of the store. “Yeah, she definitely was staring at me with her creepy goblin eyes. So thanks for that.” She drops the box of Halloween decorations next to the stack of books Sam has already gathered. “Probably trying to steal my soul or something.”

Sam laughs, rolling her eyes. “She does not have goblin eyes. She has perfectly normal cat eyes.”

“You could add her to your Halloween display and she would fit right in,” Deena points out, pulling a cardboard black cat out of the box. “See? They’re practically twins.”

The comment at least earns her another eye roll and a laugh, which is really all Deena can ever hope for in her interactions with Sam. Most of the time she considers it a victory if she’s funny enough or charming enough to warrant any of Sam’s attention.

“Okay, so what are we doing?” Deena rubs her hands together like the only thing she can imagine doing with her Sunday morning is whatever this is. “I mean, it looks great so far. Nice and cozy in here.”

Sam brightens, her gaze shifting toward the half-finished autumn display in the window. “You think so? I wasn’t sure if the leaves might be too much…or maybe there should be pumpkins? Or would leaves and pumpkins be too much? Because-”

Deena laughs, putting her arm around Sam’s shoulders and kissing the side of her head. “I just really love the way your mind works.”

Really, she does. Seeing as this is the same mind that had suggested years before that they should just open their own place and not just because it would give them the excuse to spend most of their time together but also because she was certain Deena was never happier than when she was talking music or showing kids how to hold a pair of drum sticks correctly and play the drums in a way that wasn’t just noise. And because it had been Sam’s mind that had first crafted the scenario that they could get out of Shadyside in the first place, that Deena could get out and be more and that they could be something together.

And what a something it is.

Together, they tackle the window display, Deena following the perimeters that Sam gives her, trying to bring to life the vision that Sam is seeing in that mind of hers. It’s a complete and total surprise that, when Deena goes to change the record once more, she finds that it’s nearly noon, the whole of their relaxing Sunday morning having slipped by without them.

“I think we need a lunch break,” Deena declares, retrieving a plastic orange leaf from Sam’s ponytail. “Pizza?”

Sam nods, giving a fake cobweb a critical glare. “Pizza.”

Deena heads back upstairs to change out of her sleep shorts and tank top and order ahead to their favorite place within walking distance, trying to ignore the goblin-eyed stare down she’s getting from Stevie Nicks lurking in the doorway. Clearly the cat has never forgiven her for saying, several months before when Sam had come home with the bedraggled kitten, that she was better off putting it back where it had come from because it didn’t look like any cat she’d ever seen.

An assessment that Deena still stands by, even if the cat has more or less become part of the family.

The bell above the shop’s door chimes as Deena lets herself in, pizza box in hand, to find Sam clearing away the boxes from the pile they’d made by the window. “Thank God,” she grumbles. “I’m starving.” She lifts the top of the box before Deena even gets to put it down. “Just cheese?”

“Yes, just cheese.” Deena rolls her eyes with a grin. “Sorry to disappoint Samantha ‘I like pineapple on pizza’ Fraser.” She puts the pizza box on the counter. “Next time you grab food, you can order whatever monstrosity you want. Deal?”

The smile gets in response immediately makes Deena regret the words. “Deal.”

Sam turns away, retrieving the quilt they normally keep across the back of the couch which has somehow made it downstairs, shaking it out and spreading it across the floor. Deena lifts an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I know this isn’t normally how we spend our Sundays,” Sam relents. “And it’s not exactly the most romantic place for a date but…” She shrugs, a hopeful smile on her face. “Picnic?”

As if Deena would ever want to be anywhere else.

They eat the pizza straight out of the box, the afternoon sunlight falling in squares through the windows they’ve spent all morning decorating to entice passersby and there are still moments where Deena wants to look around and make sure that all of this is real, that the universe hasn’t somehow just dropped all of this in her lap by mistake. Getting even just one of these things would be worthy of a daily pinch-me-I’m-dreaming moment, but to have the apartment, the business, the easy and gentle life outside of Shadyside and to be able to share all these things with Sam seems almost too greedy. Like she should leave some happiness for everyone else.

Then again, Deena feels like she might be entitled to a little bit of selfishness these days.

Eventually, Sam nudges the pizza box aside and drags over one of the cardboard boxes they’d gotten from storage earlier. “Look what I found.” She rummages around in the holiday detritus until she retrieves something that looks like a sheet of shimmering plastic, though the grin on her face makes it seem like she’s holding nothing less than gold.

Deena takes a closer look, smirking when she realizes what Sam is holding. “Temporary tattoos. How responsibly badass.” She peers into the box, which is full of all types of kitschy nonsense like plastic skull rings and rubber spiders. “Isn’t this the stuff for the kids? For the trick-or-treating thing?”

Sam shrugs, studying the assortment of tattoos closely. “I’m sure they won’t miss a few. Which one do you want?” She holds up the sheet, even as she says, “I was definitely thinking the cat. In honor of Stevie Nicks.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. But then I get to pick yours.” She plucks the tattoos from Sam’s fingers. “Creepy spider? No…not Sam Fraser enough. Ooh, haunted house. Definitely.”

Frowning slightly, Sam says, “Do I even want to know what it is about me that makes you think about haunted houses?”

Grinning, Deena gets to her feet, holding out a hand to help Sam up. “It’s better if it maintains an air of mystery.”

They crowd into the bathroom marked staff only in Deena’s insistent handwriting, the sign a product of chasing out far too many teenagers and toddlers, running the water until it goes from frigid to lukewarm, which is unfortunately the same range the upstairs apartment gets on a bad day. Still not something Deena thinks she would trade for anywhere else in the world, though.

Carefully, Sam wets the tattoo and lays it against Deena’s wrist, her palm warm and insistent as she holds the tiny paper square in place. She lifts her gaze toward Deena’s, the smile on her face just as warm and insistent as the pressure of her fingers around her wrist and every time Deena looks at the tattoo over the next few days, that’s exactly what she thinks about: the smile on Sam’s face and the pressure against her skin.

#sameena #fear street #sam/deena #autumn prompts #I just love this future for them so much #I need all the domestic fluff forever #sam fraser #deena johnson

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electrivolt · 1 year

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@rockheadcd asked : He hadn't expected this operation to go as long as it did—well, no one in the squad did, but it wasn't as smooth of a day as it could have been. Such was the life of temporary contracts and exchanging labor for trust between nations. It was only in Rhodes' best interest to be cordial with every nation, and it was enough for Roark to care about these assignments and not potentially slander the precious resources needed to understand and combat oripathy. He simply wasn't intending on coming back to the mothership two days later than he had told Volkner, the short notice shift coming in ill-timed days where the poor feline was still trying to acclimate to this place.

Well, as far as the whole team was concerned, there weren't any casualties after the sudden ambush at their little outpost, protecting the borders of Lungmen. These sorts of things never really ended, did it? Not when the buzzing commerce could be seen from miles away, like some jaded lighthouse just too far out of reach.

Roark is just antsy to get to his room, worried.

And he wastes no time rushing back, ignoring his own minor injuries ( thank goodness he wasn't assigned captain this time around ), beelining it to the dormitories with weapon in tow. The medics could evaluate his damned blood later, he's not the priority right now ( and when did he ever get so stubborn over a person, anyway? ).

When he finally makes it back to his room, there's an exhale of relief when he finds Volkner still there, albeit curled up again. He didn't run, at least, and Roark can finally slow himself down to carefully prop his hammerpick where it usually rested in it's holster, attached to the wall, and when he steps in far enough the door slides closed behind him. "Sorry.. we got caught up with trouble at the last second. Can't leave the LMD behind, unfortunately," he sighs, and rounds the edge of his bed to kneel down closer to Volkner's level, disheveled in his combat gear and a little bruised, a little nicked, but otherwise the same gator that had come to his rescue in appearance alone. Maybe the worry and the general fatigue of travel has him calmer than usual, but it's easy to see the way his brows crease when he takes a long look at Volkner's complexion under the layers of clothing he hadn't parted with still, slit gaze flitting and catching details he didn't remember seeing before he left.

"…Hey, hey, I'm here. It's alright, Volk," he hums softly, pressing a hand against his shoulder and rubbing carefully. Those dark circles had color to them, he was sure of it.. but, why..? Did something happen? "You look like you're gonna tear up again.."

Just three days, he tries to remind himself as time slowly trickles by. Just three days and he’ll be back. It would be alright, he could wait just three days after countless weeks, months, years going by, barely surviving out there with no one caring. This was nothing, no matter how he has basically confined himself to the only safe place that Roark’s room felt like, how he couldn’t quite sit still, hands constantly gripping the warm jacket he refused to let go of. Three days, three days and— ( three days were too much. )

It was painfully easy to keep track of time, for once, more often than not simply staring outside the window, watching as everything passed by, as clouds drifted away and day gave way to night. And Roark still wasn’t back.

( it would be fine, right? it was just three days of watching over a post, nothing should happen, he would be back soon— )

At least Volkner was making an effort to care for himself to some extent. As best as he could after the excuse of a life he came from, with what little knowledge he did carry. Roark did mention before leaving how he made sure to stash at least some good amount of food he could eat, and then stressed out how he could, in fact, take whatever he wanted and it wouldn’t be a problem in any way. ( he hates a little how much roark had to remind him he was allowed. he knows this isn’t how it should be and yet— )

He still doesn’t really bring himself to touch it much. Doesn't really find a reason to, either.

( roark isn't there and it's been too long already— )

He doesn’t really notice when three days have passed already. It’s a blessing in its own way, regardless of the mess they have been— it means he doesn’t have to keep waiting, and everything can go back to some sort of normalcy he’s still trying to grasp as his own, where he can at least make an effort to feel safer without everything screaming at him that he’s simply being too stupid to see the danger he’s in until it’s too late.

( and he hates having to depend on him like this, hates how this is the only way he can feel somewhat more at ease just staying put and like for once, nothing is gonna happen. even when this is the only scrap of kindness he’s seen in so long, even when it’s something more than that for once, starts to feel more genuine than he thought it could ever be, he hates this feeling, not being able to even just be alone— )

Somehow, slipping by other operators and into the landing area on the outside was easier than he expected, hopefully unnoticed enough that no one would find him or try to approach him, settling for a quiet corner, far enough out of the way to keep an eye on the oncoming airships without being a bother. And there he waited, just as invisible as he has felt most of his life, the jacket he has refused to part from the only thing he’s clinging to, hood pulled just a bit more over his face, tail curled around himself. Any moment now, right?

And there he kept waiting. Waiting and waiting until the sun goes down and the chill of the evening starts to seep in, and with it so does the slowly sinking realization, colder than the approaching night.

( he's... he's not coming back today. he said he would, he swore it wouldn't be long, but he's not here and it's late already and— )

( maybe he should've seen this coming. )

Before he freezes out there and is forced right back into the infirmary, Volkner slips back into the landship and makes his way back into that room, quieter than he's been before. Somehow, it feels colder than the outside now. He can't really get comfortable in bed, no matter how much he tries. He can't fall asleep either.

( why is he not back yet... did he— )

And then sleep doesn't come, just like all those nights spent trying to keep warm from the rain leaking through the decaying roof or expecting danger to find his shelter. Maybe he isn't even thinking about it, about what he's doing, awareness drowned in a spiral of intrusive thoughts and giving way to instincts he tried to bury. No matter how much or little time has passed, it's been enough for Roark to make his way into his life and cement his place there, so stubbornly refusing to let go. That's all it took, isn't it?

And now he can't let go. There are a few realizations in that blur of time that sort of stick to the back of his mind between hunger and exhaustion.

The time passed hardly registers in his mind, curled up on Roark's bed as he is, he only hears the door open, preparing himself for some medic coming to find him after so long, bracing himself for more nagging and scolding— and then he freezes.

( he's back...? )

His voice is failing him now, and suddenly Volkner is very aware of how dry his throat feels, how he doesn't really feel the strength to push himself up after so long running on auto pilot. ( he's upsetting roark already with this, why can't he stop fucking up for once— )

"I... I-I thought you..." he can't even being himself to say much with such a miserable whisper, can he? So little has his throat so hoarse already. "... You said three days. I was waiting—"

That's it, that's all Volkner can really say, and a hand reaches out to rest on Roark's, as close as he can get with initiating any touch on his own without feeling already like he was pushing it. He's really trying, despite it all, isn't he?

"Sorry..." And yet he still ruined all of Roark's efforts with just a few days of wait. "I tried, but..."

( he's miserable, isn't he? )

#〔 ask . 〕 ϟ i will not fall ; i will not fade ; i will take your breath away .#〔 ic . 〕 ϟ i will shut the world away .#〔 arknights . 〕 ϟ and we hate the way this world has become ; but there ain’t no cure for it .#rockheadcd #// bitch fuck you here #have your anxious wreck #// long post

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