#manipulative prick with a soft spot

[dilatorywriting]

59 Leona, it'd take a lot for him to admit but he would say it eventually. (Also I know you'd recognize me but I'm shy, so anon it is)

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 59: "People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, I think fate was being harsh on you."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You are nice, and you are stupid. And those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sometimes you’re nice because you’re stupid, and sometimes you do stupid things because you’re too nice for your own stupid, stupid good. And it drives Leona half insane.

Which it shouldn’t, because nice, stupid people like you are just as annoying as his brother. Goody-two-shoes with buttoned vests and sparkly, star-shaped stickers on their term papers.

“Did you remember your homework?”

Leona flicked his tail in your face and you scrunched your nose over your notebook.

“Well?”

“Of course I remembered,” he scoffed, lazing back against the roots of one of his favorite trees. This spot used to be so much quieter, so much more peaceful, before you decided to trail after him like a duck quacking for its mother.

“Did you do the homework?” you clarified, and Leona rolled his eyes.

You sighed and starting ruffling around in your bookbag. “I brought a spare copy of the worksheet. You’re going to drive Ruggie insane, y’know. If he winds up stuck with you for another year because you failed for not turning in assignments.”

“Yeah. Sure. Another three-hundred-and-sixty-five days to rifle through my wallet. Worst news of his life.”

You huffed good naturedly and handed him the sheet of crisp, white copy paper and a pen. “Get to work, Kingscholar.”

“Oh?” he drawled, closing his eyes and settling back, loose limbed and all long, lean leisure, against the tree trunk. Clearly ready for an afternoon snooze. “Make me.”

You sighed again and reached over to flick your own well-used pen against his ear. It twitched under your fingers—soft, and tufted. The finest of the pale, tan fur brushing up against your fingertips. “Fine. Be that way. See if I bring you lunch tomorrow.”

“You will,” he scoffed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sounding resigned and foolishly fond. “I probably will.”

See? Stupid. So easy to manipulate. So willing to let yourself be squashed under his clawed thumb. It was a wonder you’d managed to survive in this school at all. Nevertheless by clinging onto the coattails of someone like him. He’d never made anyone’s existence easier a day in his life, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, just because you were too soft-hearted and slow to see a looming predator for what it was.

“Just give me that stupid fucking paper,” he snapped, sitting upright and swatting away your poking pen with a sneer. You laughed into your palms like a secret—bright, and merry, and dumb as a fucking rock.

“Whatever you say, Leona.”

.

.

You’d handled his Overblot with a strange sort of aplomb that at first Leona had attributed to perhaps a lingering, hidden confidence that he’d just never bothered to unearth. You were just some herbivore, and even the littlest rabbits could bite back when you put them in a corner. But then he’d come to the decision that that easy conviction was just another symptom of your rampant stupidity.

“I know you guys don’t want to hurt me, or any of us. Not really,” you shrugged around a wad of cotton—the blood dripping from your nose slowly drying up to a tacky, sticky dribble. Leona gaped at you outright.

That was your grand explanation. For why you’d been so eager to charge forward when he’d collapsed in a pool of inky nightmares and self-loathing. And the very same reason apparently thatyou’d felt so comfortable rushing forward to treat Azul Ashengrotto’s blubbering, hysterical, breakdown with the same urgency.

“That octo-prick would have ripped you in half,” he sneered, fingers twitching a nervous rhythm against his palms as he watched the nurse wrap another layer or bandages around your head.

You shrugged. “Not on purpose.”

You were going to give him an aneurism.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled, ignoring the horrible, twisty thing curling like bile through his chest. “And I’m not going to bother paying for some self-sacrificing idiot’s funeral.”

Another shrug.

“That’s alright,” you hummed, a soft sort of crooked smile on your mouth. “Would’ve been a waste of money anyways.”

Leona didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Surely because your stupidity had reached such a fever pitch that it was no doubt contagious, and he needed to protect his far superior and more valuable brain. Not because the image of you smiling and nodding along to his declarations that he wouldn’t put the effort into mourning your death had soured something so deep in his gut that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to scrape it out.

.

.

When he received a letter from home asking him to return for some shitty coronation nonsense for his equally shitty brother, Leona had debated just skipping it outright. Who was going to stop him? You?

Well. Yes, apparently.

“It sounds important,” you hummed, peering over his shoulder at the neat, formal scrawl of the summons. “You should go.”

He snorted. “I don’t want to be there, they don’t want me to be there. What’s the point.”

You frowned, brow crinkling in the middle.

“Well, that’s not true,” you said, perplexed. “They wouldn’t write to you if that was the case.”

Leona snorted, eyes darting away to glare bitterly off into the corner. “Not like they have a choice.”

“Well then you don’t have a choice either,” you argued, firm. “I’ll go with you. See? It says you can have a plus one. You can camp out in your fancy, princey, bedroom. And I can siphon you snacks from the fancy, princey hors d'oeuvres tables. That way we both win. You get to be a reclusive asshole and rub the fact that that you still went in everyone’s faces, and I can get access to some tasty, royal food that I’ll probably never be able to afford again for the rest of my life.”

“Should’ve known you’d be like Ruggie—only using me for the free food,” he sighed, melodramatic and obviously put on.

“Well, also because I thought you could use the emotional support,” you added, a touch too soft and far too genuine. “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear that bit.”

“You’re right,” he scoffed, turning onto his side to hide the strange, miserable heat pricking at his skin. “Don’t ever say corny shit like that again.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you grinned, flicking at his ear, and Leona added another mental tab to his never-ending list of reasons that you were really far too brainless to keep functioning at all.

.

.

You were nice, and you were stupid. And Seven, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“My brother hasn’t ever brought someone to one of these events before,” Falena had said, to your face. Idiot to idiot communication.  

“I didn’t give him much of an option,” you’d chirped, perfectly pleasant. “I don’t think he wants me anywhere near here, to be fair. Or around him in general. But I’m like a cockroach. Can’t get rid of me.”

And Falena had laughed. Because he was terrible. And said, “I’m sure he must care about you very much, little cockroach.”

And then because you were more terrible, you laughed back and said very assuredly, “Oh, not at all.”

Which was—was—

“Do you really think that?” he snapped, once the two of you were alone. And you blinked back at him with wide, owlish eyes.

“Think what?”

Think at all,he wanted to sneer, but just glared silently and bitterly into the middle distance—fighting the nonsensical, irritated swishing of his tail.

But you just kept staring at him. Like he was the moron here. Which was unacceptable.

“Look,” he frowned, sharp and miserable. “I get it. People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you. Whatever gods exist out there were playing a shitty fucking joke on you when they dropped you in my lap. But you’re stuck with me. So stop—” he bit out, fighting that awful, twisty thing in his gut that never seemed to fully go away. “Stop talking like I can’t stand you.”

“…oh,” you mumbled, whisper quiet—that wide, startled gaze flicking away in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed, sharp, and you snorted a laugh that seemed to surprise even you.

“You’re stuck with me too then, y’know,” you said after a long moment. “Even when I make you grumpy.”

“You don’t make me grumpy. I am grumpy. You make me—” he cut off quick, eyes darting away petulantly and an absolutely unfair heat rising along his cheekbones.  

“Itchy,” you piped in, and he gaped at you in shock.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, awkward, and reached up to wiggle your fingers. “Cockroach. Many legs. Squirming. Itchy.”

“Never say any of those words again.”

You laughed into your palm—inelegant and a touch too loud. Leona felt his lips quirk.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment, once your giggles were a bit more under control. And leaned forward quick as a whip to press a nervous peck against his cheek. “For being kind to me.”

Kind.

Leona reached up to press a hand against the too-warm skin with a terrible, unfamiliar sensation in his head not unlike the fuzzy, white drone of TV static. And a horrible thought managed to filter its way through the floating, buzzing sensation curling through the whole of him.

Oh, fuck. It is contagious.

.

.

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Leona x Reader #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #My Writing #Writing Prompts #Leona Kingscholar

[itsabouttimex2]

Hello! I read your Lmk fics and they're awesome! 💗💗💗 If the request are open can I ask one of Yan Macaque wanting Reader as is apprentice or be their mentor but Reader doesn't want to and every time they deny his offer so he tries to convince them? (being the manipulator he is can offer them more power or strength) Thank you so much! 💖

Tough Love

Yandere Mentor Macaque

You know he’s outside. If it isn’t him, it’s one of his shadow clones. Either way, he’s keeping you up again, scratching at the walls and windows of your house. Today is the fourteenth day of this hell, desperately trying to sleep while Macaque tries to force you to come outside and confront him.

There’s a brief lull in the scratching, and right when you think he’s given up, he begins to pound on your window, rattling the frame as he does. You roll over and stuff your face into your pillow, hoping to block out the thunderous noise. In response, it only grows louder and louder. You bear with it for a few minutes, and eventually… it stops entirely.

Then your bed begins to shake.

You jump to your feet as fast as possible, reaching for something to defend yourself with. Instead, you find Macaque’s shadow clones snatching up everything in reach and pulling them away from you, leaving you completely unarmed and off-guard.

Something taps your shoulder, but you don’t turn around. You already know who it is, after all.

“Hey kiddo,” he starts, his voice surprisingly soft and calm. It doesn’t stay that way for long. “Here I was, starting to think you might be ignoring me, or something.” There’s a definite edge to his voice as he finishes, like he’s daring you to confirm his words. Instead, you just stay quiet. It feels like there’s no right words for this situation, nothing you can say to improve your lot.

“Remember when you said you’d think on my offer, bud? I’m still waiting for an answer. Kinda starting to lose my patience, here.”

He taps your shoulder again. An unspoken command is conveyed through that simple motion. Turn around.

You slowly turn on your heel, revealing your weary eyes and tired face to the demon. He clicks his tongue and huffs. “You really don’t know when to give up, huh? I could make you stronger than you ever imagined. I could teach you to protect yourself.”

You take a step forward, ready to protest and argue, to drive in for the final time that you don’t want or need his help.

But he beats you to the punch.

“Can I ask you something, kid? Why do you even bother to say no? Are you scared? Of what? You’ve got no one left, kiddo. I mean, if you did… they’d be here helping you, right? But no. You’re dealing with the big bad demon all alone. And you still won’t give in. So stubborn! You kinda remind me of an old friend of mine, actually. Difference is…”

“He has people who care about him.”

Everything freezes in place, all the color draining from your face as the world goes quiet. You have no retort, no reply, no defense. His expression grows smug, knowing he’s hit a weak spot. He takes a step forward, looming over you to really drive in how powerless you are right now.

“That’s what I can give you, kid. A place to belong. Someone to look out for you. Strength to stand on your own two feet. Why not let me help you? It’s not like anyone else is trying.”

Your throat tightens painfully, and tears prick your eyes. You try to take a few deep breaths, but your dry lips are stuck together. Every time he had made this offer previously, you had argued him to a standstill, countering each of his points with ease. Now, you can’t even breathe right. You can’t even speak.

He chuckles, and reaches out to pat your shoulder. “All alone, huh. Pretty rough feeling, isn’t it? But you don’t have to be alone. Neither of us do. Let me make you something better.” While you’re still unable to resist, he loops his fingers around one of your wrists and drags you outside with him. The shadows roil and writhe with each step he takes. You stumble along after him, only stopping to take a look back at your house.

Somehow, you feel like you won’t be seeing it for a while.

#platonic yandere #yandere lmk #yandere lego monkie kid #yandere macaque #yanmentor #lego monkie kid #tw: manipulation

[pr0wlerpunk]

Title: Trust Me.

Person: Roman reigns

Requested: |Yes|No|(part 2 was yes)

Part 1. Part. 3

★Trust Masterlist

Afab!reader

Warnings: manipulation, obsessiveness, dark!Themes, surprised ambush(only mentioned but not written as a scene), yelling, slight!abuse(a hand gets raised as if to slap but never happens and reader gets choked by Roman), angst, cussing,

description: it’s been a week after Roman said he trusted you and things are starting to go down hill..

Pairings: Romantic!roman x reader, slight!romantic!Jey x reader, slight!romantic!Jimmy x reader, slight!romantic!solo x reader, also includes a very friendly Paul heyman

Pic creds: WWE

(Pics have nothing to do with story 😋)

A/n: you’ve read the warnings so please if they make you uncomfortable do not read.

Choking will be marked with a “☹︎“ and will end at “☻︎“

Not proof read!

Roman was pissed, all he could see was red when he heard what happened, more importantly what you did

After he talked to you and poured his heart out you had gone and betrayed him

How dare you

He had got word from someone that they saw you with Sami and ko laughing and having a good time

At first he didn’t believe them

Then he saw the picture

Ko and Sami on both sides of you laughing and smiling

Oh was he furious

But from some talking with his cousins he was going to give you the benefit of the doubt and actually let you explain

That was until Jey and Jimmy got ambushed by Sami and ko themselves

Now he was livid

As soon as they got back he made solo go find you

Which is where you’re at now

Sitting in front of Roman as he quietly glared at you…

“___ do you know why I had solo bring you here?”

His tone was different then what he ever used before making you slightly uncomfortable

“No Roman, I don’t…”

You answered honestly confusion lacing your voice

“Wiseman, show her the picture”

Paul was quick to walk towards you with his phone in hand

Handing the phone to you as he quickly walked back to his original spot

You eyed the picture seeing nothing wrong with it

about to open your mouth Roman spoke

“Don’t say anything.” His tone was demanding making you shiver as you quickly shut your mouth

“Boys, come.”

watching as Jey and Jimmy stepped up until they were in front of you heads both turned down as they looked to Roman for further instruction

Roman nodded and finally they raised their heads looking everywhere but you

You couldn’t help the soft gasp that left your lips as you caught a glimpse of their faces

“Look at them ___ look at what you did..”

Your brows netted together hearing what Roman was accusing you of

But your attention was still set on the twins

They had busted lips, with bruises forming on their jaws as small cuts littered alongside their noses

“Jey, Jimmy” your voice shaky as they both locked eyes with you

“What-what happened?” You went to get up but the look solo gave you had you glued to your seat

“Who did this?”

Your voice shaky as you tried racking your brain for who had the balls to try and hurt two vital members of the bloodline

Roman stared at you in disbelief

“Who do you think did this ___ ?”

His tone was way darker than before, almost as if he was trying to intimidate you..

“Roman I-I don’t understand”

You could sense him getting angrier and it honestly scared you

“WHY DO YOU PLAY GAMES WITH ME?”

His abrupt yelling startled not only you but everyone else in the room besides solo

“I brought you into my family, I cared for you, I Trusted you.”

His palms abruptly slapping into the arms of the leather chair he was sitting in created a loud noise that echoed throughout the room making you jump slightly

“And this is how you repay me?”

He stood Making his way towards you as You looked away feeling tears prick your eyes

“Look at me”

You felt his presence in front of you but yet you still refused to look at him

Afraid that if you did you wouldn’t hold back

But He was growing impatient at your disobedience

“I said, Look. At. Me”

Slowly you turned facing him and you swear your heart stopped

He looked so intimidating

And it scared the living fuck out of you

He bent down to your level leaving almost no room between you two

“Answer me ___”

His voice gruff as his hand ran slightly along your shoulder to your jaw

He waited

And then he snapped

☹︎CHOKING BELLOW!

“NOW”

He rose to his feet pulling you with him as he hand gripped your throat

You heard Paul gasp as you were lifted off your feet by Roman’s large hand

Tears fell freely as you clawed at his hand to try and let you slightly free, but it wasn’t working and you were loosing air fast

Ears ringing as your vision began to blur

Still you could slightly hear Jey yelling at Roman to let you go as Jimmy started pulling and grabbing at him

☺︎︎CHOKING OVER!

It wasn’t until Jey said something that snapped him out of his trance that he let you go

Solo was quick to walk over and check on your choking form as you regained air into your lungs

Once you could breath again you stood with the help of solo and turned to watch Jey and Roman

Who now was yelling and shoving each other around with Jimmy trying to talk them both down

It want until Roman raised his hand towards Jey that you broke from Solo’s arms to step in

“Roman Please!” He stopped lowering his hand to glare at you

Taking a breath you finally explained

“The picture, it was three years ago..”

His eyes softened slightly but his glare never faltered

You looked towards Paul and gestured for him to give you the phone

With shaky hands he handed it to you

“Look at the picture again,look at my gear” Roman tour his eyes away from you to finally look at the phone once again

“That’s my rookie gear Roman”

Finally his eyes softened as he looked at you

He could see the yellow and purple marks in the form of fingerprints start to form around your neck

Where He grabbed you.

Then it hit him

He had put his hands on you

He hurt you

And he broke

Brows furrowed as Tears fell down his cheeks

“Oh babygirl”

Hearing his voice crack made your heart break

“I’m so sorry”

You shook your head

“I should’ve never grabbed you like that”

He was so genuine you knew he felt bad

“You have to believe me when I say I didn’t mean it”

He pleaded

“Please Trust Me and know I will never do it again”

It was silent until you took his hands in yours smiling softly..

“I know Roman, I forgive you”

A wide smile graced his lips hearing those words come out your mouth

“It was an accident it’s ok”

He nodded agreeing with you

“I Trust You”

Hearing those words he quickly brought you into a hug

“Oh thank you baby!”

He pulled back slightly and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before pulling back again to look you in the eyes this time

I’ll make it up to you princess, I promise”

He watched as you smiled before burying your head into his neck as he placed his chin on your head…

The three brothers stood confused at what just a cured

How could you take Roman back after he literally choked you…

Then they realized.

You were Hooked

Roman had built up enough trust with you so you wouldn’t runaway

Roman knew if you were to runaway you would be a liability, you knew too much…

Now They stared at you and Roman with one shared thought

How do they get you to trust them the same as you trusted their cousin?

Taglist: @eddiems-whore @le-le-lea @slasherswh0reeee @lolsimmaho @mostlikelythedevil @nikotokitaswife @christinabae @janesakainoa @jeyusos-girl @niknakbucks92 @harlem11680 @pinkwithhearts @bandkiddo @itsmaybaby @blackwomenluxurylifestyle @thesamoanqueen @mohawkmama @visi0naryyy

In red=can not tag

Please message me to be added or taken off the taglist😋

(I honestly don’t know if I liked this because of how harsh it gets so next part won’t be so harsh I promise!)

(Also what do you guys think Jey said to Roman?)

#rae speaks #roman reigns #wwe #jimmy uso #jey uso #jimmy uso x reader #jey uso x reader #roman reigns x reader #romanreigns #wwe roman reigns #roman reigns fic #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns fan fiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fanfiction #the bloodline #the bloodline x reader

[peachymilkandcream]

Hi can you do a head canon of Levi and the dynamic between him and his kids and would it be different depending on gender.

Levi and His Kids Headcanons

(A/N: Goodness golly my inbox is full up! Thanks for all the requests/questions guys, I'll try and get to them as soon as I can but I was gone all day yesterday and most of today. [Although I did get to see Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and I don't care what anyone says it was gooood])

WARNING: yandere themes, yandere behaviour, referenced noncon/dubcon, emotional abuse, manipulation, misogyny, etc.

===========================================

How Levi Would Treat His Sons ->

All of his kids would be his pride and joy but there's something special about the boys.

They are his legacy, years from now the Ackerman name will be carried on by them and he'll be an old man surrounded by generations of Ackerman.

All of them will be carbon copies of their father, from their views on women, to being soldiers, to their rough exteriors, all of it. Their father is their hero, he is the ultimate role model to look up to.

They're given rigorous training from a young age, none of his boys will be "crybabies" or wimps that others pick on, they will be strong and able to defend themselves.

On the other hand they're spoiled, anything they want they get. He will give them the world and then some, tearing it apart if he has to to make them happy.

They will come to love and respect their father but only love their mother. Since she's a woman they are inclined to treat her with affection since she did them the courtesy of birthing them, but respect is for men and men alone. (Levi teaching his boys great stuff huh?)

He'll have his boys remind Evelyn when she steps out of line to respect Levi since he's her husband and serve as an extra set of eyes.

Each boy will add to their reputation and do something great on their own to have their father's respect and praise. He wants them to prove to him that they are truly talented and not because of his money.

How Levi Would Treat His Daughters ->

Contrary to popular belief but while he imposes his ideas of women onto his sons he would tell them and his daughter that she's an exception. Something in him would be enraged at the idea of an Ackerman by blood being treated the way he treats his own wife. (Deep down he knows how he treats her is wrong, he just doesn't give a flying fuck)

His daughter would be no different than his sons, trained up from a young age to be just like him, although with slightly less expectations, he has a bit of a soft spot for his girl/girls.

If his daughter wanted to get married he would carefully examine whoever she was interested in and would point out all of his flaws to her, if she still wanted to go through with it, (Unless it was a serious serious flaw that even he was like "fuck no" to, then he would scare the guy off) he would pay for the elaborate wedding.

Mostly he would encourage her not to get married, Levi is toxically traditional but he cares more about his name, and wants his own bloodline to have as many Ackermans as possible, why would he continue another prick's family name?

Levi understands that as a girl she'll be closer to her mother, and he doesn't mind all that much. There are a lot of woman topics he will talk about if need be but would rather not, not because he's uncomfortable by it but because it's unsanitary and gross.

Levi really does his kids, but his wife he'll always love more.

#break me slowly #levi x oc #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #yandere levi #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — open arms #16

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: multiple whumpers, non-con touching (not sexual), manhandling, gun violence, gun threat, blood, intimate whumper, humiliation/degradation, manipulation, opening up past injuries (whipping)

Bran’s grip was bruising.

Leo could barely even wriggle the limb between his fingers without a sharp gasp of pain escaping his lips.

He was more focused on how tight his lungs felt, and the way his mind was latching onto exactly what he’d uttered earlier. Target practice? “I won’t put too many rounds in him”?

His eyes instinctively screwed shut when he was jerked outside the front door, the sunlight mercilessly attacking his retina. He could feel his socks padding along the grass, almost skidding to catch up with the man’s ridiculously long strides. His fingers dug into his wrist, but it didn’t seem to phase Bran at all.

He hopelessly tossed a frightened gaze over his shoulder, only to see the other man from the kitchen following far behind. His gaze snapped up to the windows on the top floor, but one harsh jerk from Bran had a painful gasp tearing from his lips, ripping his attention elsewhere. His eyes darted from one stranger’s face to another, and he could feel his chest bouncing up and down rapidly.

It matched the steady increase of his heartbeat.

“Why’d you bring him out with you?” One of the strangers frowned, and Leo risked a glance towards him. He was the only one with a neatly groomed beard, matching his dark hair and eyes. He was looking at him with this acidic distaste in his eyes, and Leo couldn’t help but shake his gaze away.

Bran huffed, tugging him over to one of the targets they’d set up. “It makes it more fun having a living target, don’t you think?”

Leo stiffly shook his head, trying to plant his heels into the dirt to deter his strength.

“Please,” he choked, his voice wobbling. “Don’t…”

Bran shot him a glare, one that had Leo’s hairs pricking on edge.

“Keep your mouth shut, or I’m going to skip the practice and make sure I put a bullet straight through your head, you got that?”

He felt a rough hand abruptly shove him backwards, his back connecting with the metal target behind him. Agony rippled through his back, and he couldn’t contain the painful cry that was ripped from his lips, instantly doubling over in a reflex to get away from the pressure. Bran grasped his jaw in a vice grip, and Leo’s head was knocked back against the target with a loud bang.

Pain ricocheted through his skull, and he was sure he saw black spots splinter along his vision for a moment. He grit his teeth and let out a soft whimper, his hands latching onto his wrist when his fingers dug uncomfortably between his cheeks.

“Keep still,” Bran murmured in a low, dangerous tone, his voice bordering on a terrifying growl. “If you don’t, I’ll nail you to this target to make sure you don’t squirm.”

He ripped away, and Leo felt his limbs lock into place, a cold rush of fear washing through him. Bran’s lip quirked up into a smirk, before he turned and went straight for the crate of guns. Beard’s narrowed eyes lingered on him for a moment, before he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, and shrugged his shoulders lazily.

“Whatever.”

The one beside him, dissimilar in height to Beer, which Leo called him, had dirty blond hair cut to a short length. He was sipping at a can of beer himself, his eyes also filled with mischief. He was missing a finger on his left hand.

“Don’t go too far,” the fingerless mercenary called out, his expression catlike. “He might piss himself.”

Leo swallowed the dryness clinging to his throat, trying to shake off the horrible sense of dizziness that had consumed his thoughts. Each little sensation was driving him crazy; the clammy sweat on his brow, the deafening sound of his heart banging against his ribcage, the rush of adrenaline through his veins. His head was throbbing, and the pain that was still mercilessly tearing at his back made him want to curl up into a ball and scream.

Through watery eyes, he shifted his gaze to find Bran fiddling with a handgun.

His nose scrunched almost instantly, and he collapsed into quiet little sobs. The simple image of a gun, and it was reminding him about how he’d gotten in this situation in the first place. The impending sense of panic seizing his heart, how defenceless he felt at the end of that metal contraption.

Knowing one wrong move, and he’d have a bullet inside of him.

Leo froze like he did the first time. Bran was pointing the gun at him, and the metal target behind him, though taller and bigger, was burning into his skin the further he tried to press himself against it. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could disappear.

The jarring bang made him flinch violently, and he was sure he heard the thud of the bullet next to his head. His lungs stuttered to a complete stop, and Leo’s stomach rolled with dread as he felt more sobs spill from his lips.

“Not bad,” Bran hummed, tilting his head towards the other mercenary with a smirk. “I can see why Roy decided to keep him around.”

Leo sucked in a trembling breath, frantically shaking his head. “Please…”

The man’s smirk instantly dropped, his eyes going cold. “One more sound out of you, and the next one will be in your throat.”

As if to prove his point, the secretary heard another horrifying bang, and he could have sworn he felt the fire of the bullet almost biting above his shoulder. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, the momentary stinging pain distracting him from the whine that was bubbling in the back of his throat. His fingers fisted the bottom of the jacket, clinging onto it until his hands were shaking.

Leo was terrified. Roy, somewhat, had a method to his madness. All he had to do was be good, and he could avoid being hurt. But to what extent were they going to go to? Would he really shoot him, let him bleed out, and leave him until he was half dead before saving him? Would they all have no problem killing him? Would Roy let them?

He tasted blood on his tongue, as well as the salty taste of tears.

Another bang, and a twinge of pain erupted in the shell of his ear. A hiss of pain lingered on his tongue, and he had to force his arm from reaching up to cup the wounded area.

Finger let out a soft whistle, a chuckle hot on his tongue. “You made pretty boy bleed.”

Bran scoffed, though his eyes shone with amusement. “Ain’t even a graze. He’ll live, won’t you?”

Leo’s chest burned with humiliation, his breath stuttering with sobs as he hesitantly nodded his head. The big man scoffed, taking the gun in both hands once more, and keeping his hands steady. It was almost comical how small it looked when he held it, but Leo knew how much horrific damage it could do. He sniffled, anxiously gripping the jacket tighter.

“I wonder how many scratches I can put on him ‘til he can’t handle it no more,” he chuckled lowly, and Leo’s heart lurched into his throat at another jarring bang. It pierced through his ears, followed shortly by another, then another bang, bang, bang, around his head, leaving black circles in the target. Leo was almost hyperventilating, his vision blurring around the edges.

When Bran went to reload his gun, his next shot punched straight through Leo’s right side, and an agonising scream tore past his lips before he could hold it back. His knees buckled almost instantly, crashing onto the ground as his hands clutched desperately at the wound. His eyes swelled with fresh tears, trickling down his cheeks. He felt something grip his shoulders, and he instantly lashed out, the screams stripping away at his throat.

He struggled against the touches, shaking his head frantically. Pain was splitting along his back, and he was sure some of the wounds had reopened in the chaos of it all. He spluttered pathetically, catching a glimpse of Beer’s blurry face in front of him.

“He shot me,” Leo snivelled, crumbling into disorientated sobs. “He, He shot…it’s…”

He was still fighting the man’s grasp, his eyes frantically landing on a familiar figure. His vision cleared only for him, and Leo’s stomach sank with dread. Beer’s words didn’t register with him at all, a soft whimper crawling up his throat.

“Roy,” he called out, his voice breaking along the edges. He saw the mercenary turn around, though he looked considerably more calm than Leo did. “Roy.”

The mercenary stepped towards him, and Leo felt those familiar fingers run through his hair, crouching down to his height. He blinked through the blurriness in his vision, everything consuming him at once.

“What do you need, lion?” He smirked, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “What do you need?”

His fingers trembled against his side, feeling it slick with fresh blood. He let out a soft whimper, letting his head fall forward and press against his shoulder.

“Please help me,” he cried, shifting forward so he was clutching onto him. “I don’t want to be here anymore, he…he…”

He felt a gentle tug on his shirt, and Roy assessed the damage with calm eyes.

“The bullet just scratched you, lion,” he gently whispered, gaze sliding up to the small nick in the shell of his ear. Something passed across his expression, gone before Leo could have even squinted to catch a glimpse. “There’s a lot of blood, but you’ll be okay. C’mere. There’s a good boy.”

Leo’s legs barely even cooperated, trembling like a leaf in the wind as they tried to take his weight. The throbbing in his back was the most consuming pain of them all, and he relied solely on Roy’s arms to guide him.

As he hobbled beside the mercenary, he could hear a ripple of sniggering and mocking laughter fading out from behind them as they went.

It left Leo feeling nothing but the crushing feeling of burning embarrassment.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee

#guns for hire #whump #whump fic #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #whump drabble #whump tropes #whumpblr #whumper #whumpee #multiple whumpers #leo and roy #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #finger beard and beer 🤙

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere alphabet for Moira Overwatch please if that's OK? OwO

Sure! I don't mind! Using a GIF from Tumblr again!

Yandere Alphabet - Moira O'Deorain

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Human experimentation, Kidnapping implied, Isolation, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Lack of empathy (Moira), Drugging implied, Marking mention, Hickeys/Hickies implied, Violence, Murder mention, Manipulation, Forced relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Moira is rather sadistic, even when it comes to her darling. Her affection is often a method of experimentation in many ways. She'll poke and prod at you all while praising you and kissing you, telling you that you're her little experiment.

Her affection and obsession is intense. She isn't usually very gentle and makes it clear you're hers. She may treat you like an experiment at times, but she rewards you after whatever you go through.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

When it comes to Moira she can get as messy as she wants. Although… Why kill those who bother you when you can just experiment with them?

She'll be quite sadistic with those who cross you and her. With you she's gentle… with anyone else?

Well… they aren't let off so easily.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Moira is sometimes mocking but it isn't very often with you. She has a soft spot for you, even during small experiments she conducts on you. Speaking of which…

When Moira takes you in she both treats you as a lover and an experiment. She doesn't do anything too damaging to you as she cares. Although if she knows a procedure will benefit you or her, she'll do it to you. 

Being her darling is an odd experience as you aren't sure if you are her lover or a lab rat.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Most likely.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Moira isn't a very vulnerable yandere, in fact she lacks empathy at times. She's vulnerable in the sense of if someone took you she'd do anything to have you back. Yet in terms of opening up to you, not really her thing.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

It could both irritate and excite her. Moira has a sadistic personality at times so seeing you fight just gives her a new game to play. On the other hand… she would prefer an obedient darling that listens to her every command.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Sometimes it's all a sadistic game to her, sometimes it isn't.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

When it comes to Moira a lot of experiences with her can be hell. I'd have to say whenever she experiments with you. There's some pain yet she always shushes you in an attempt to comfort.

She's simply trying to help you… don't you believe her?

She's lying and you know it.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Moira plans to have you and her live in a better world. To make that happen she must expand her knowledge. At least… that's what she tells you as she pricks at your skin, making your vision woozy as she coos over you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Moira's jealousy manifests as irritation. She appears to be annoyed when there's other people around you. Especially if she's already claimed you as hers through her experiments.

She'd try to cope before targeting the person she's upset about. Afterwards… she gets a new experiment to play around with.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Moira is mostly stoic and often brushes things off. However, with you she shows preference that others can sense. Why else does she hover around you?

Plus… they can tell she's taken you as hers. How? There's signs of experimentation… along with marks on your skin made by her lips.

Moira is possessive. She toys with her darling and marks them as hers. She acts cold with others… but you?

Well… the scientist just can't help but indulge.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

She starts things slow, building your trust like luring a new rabbit to research. The attraction to you most likely started first… which made her want to experiment on you. After all… you make her feel all strange.

Moira manipulates you into trusting her right up until she has her claws on you. Like a huntress who finally caught her game… she steals you away. Moira knows how to use her words…

Maybe you should've listened to the warnings others gave you about her?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Harsher experimentation, maybe restraints. She doesn't want to have to hurt you… yet if you keep fighting… she might as well get some more results.

She tries to limit punishment though, wouldn't to lose her most precious rabbit, right?

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Most likely a lot of them.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

She can be patient… but she has her limits.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

She probably will… but she has a hard time feeling the same spark with anyone else.

You were just so… special. She misses it. Odd for her to say… but you really did mean a lot to her.

Perhaps she can… bring you back? That's possible… right? She'll have to try….

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No and most likely not.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Just her nature in general along with curiosity.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

She'll wait it out, she isn't the best with comfort. When you calm down she'll try conversation. She doesn't jump to comfort you like a lot of other yanderes, but she does care somewhat.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Experimentation… that just about covers it.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Hard to say/None I can think of.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not a worship yandere but would probably kill to keep you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

She doesn't snap, everything is deliberately planned.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes.

#yandere overwatch #yandere moira #yandere moira o'deorain

[whositmcwhatsit]

An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 8 A/N Written using the prompt: "You're staring." So, this one got a bit angry and a bit sad, which I guess is in keeping with the time. Warnings for implied drug use, so much swearing, little bit of smut, and a really, really bad temper?

Thank you to @thatbanditqueen as ever for reading and persuading me to post this against my better judgement. Previous chapter: Chapter 7

Chancy did not wake feeling as though she had regained her energy. Saying that, it was just four and half hours later when the telephone beside the bed began trilling. The jangle shattered her opaque sleep into thousands of tiny shards and she lay reeling on the bed, trying to understand what was happening.

When her chemically numbed mind finally slid the pieces of information together like a Rubik’s cube, the phone abruptly stopped.

Staring at the tiles on the ceiling, she noticed that one of them had crumbled away slightly at the corner. How did that even happen? What could have caused friction or disturbance up there? Rats, she decided, the hotel was probably overrun with rats. Her brain instantly embraced this as a certainty and she sprang up into a seated position as if she was operated by a hinge, only for her head to protest this movement by making her feel as though she had performed a loop-de-loop in a fighter plane.

With trembling limbs, she manoeuvred herself to the edge of the bed feeling as though she weighed a thousand pounds, but also like she might float away at the same time. Just as she was contemplating trying to stand, the phone began its assault again. She glanced hurriedly over her shoulder at Elvis, who was sprawled across the mattress. The telephone was about a foot from his head, but he didn’t stir.

Chancy was frozen by indecision. Of course, she didn’t want Elvis to be woken as she had been, so she should have picked up the phone. However, she also knew that the phone in his room only rang if the caller knew the fake name that he was registered under and the codeword that Joe circulated to those who needed it. That meant that the caller was either a member of the group they were travelling with, which was unlikely as they all knew that Elvis would not be awake, or it was someone not on the tour that was close enough to him that he would want them to have a direct line to him. Chancy did not want to answer the phone to his ex-wife or another girlfriend. Even contemplating how awkward that would be made her face flush hot.

Avoidance was the key, she decided. She showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater, shoving aside the masses of plastic covered clothing she had been bought the night before in order to find her ordinary clothes. She put on minimal make-up and combed her hair, smiling at the reflection in the mirror. She still felt like she was suffering from the world’s worst hangover- the balls of her feet even ached- but she looked like herself again.

It was a mistake to look back at the bed before she left the room. Elvis had rolled onto his side, his hand stretched out against her pillow and his face looked soft and vulnerable. The power of the drive to stay by his side was terrifying.

It felt like an intrinsic need to protect him, watch over him, and it made absolutely no sense. She wasn’t his mother or his bodyguard and he wasn’t a helpless baby. She knew this intellectually, but the griping in her stomach as she walked to the door and the pricking sense of unease was real and undeniable and it infuriated her. She stoked that anger, using it as a sword to cut the binds of obligation. Elvis was manipulating her somehow, she told herself, in that magical way he had, trying to get her to stay and become consumed by his idea of who she should be.

On her way out, she let the man sitting outside her door- a new guy she didn’t know very well- know that she was just going across the street to the diner she had spotted out of the car window yesterday. He looked at her a little too long as if he wasn’t quite sure who she was either. That seemed to bode well.

The pancakes at the diner were subpar, but the coffee wasn’t too bad. She had three cups while she flicked through the newspaper and caught up on the Watergate drama. She checked her horoscope- “Beware of those with hidden intentions. Trouble is on the horizon, but you can avert it if you ask for help from a friend”.

The entertainment section was plastered with articles and pictures and blind rumours about what had happened on the set of ‘The Way We Were’. She recalled briefly meeting Barbra in Las Vegas a few years before. Elvis had gone backstage to congratulate her on her opening. It had been strange and uncomfortable from what Chancy could remember, having two such huge stars in a confined room meant very little space and oxygen for the ordinary people. Lucky girl for getting to kiss Robert Redford though.

Chancy’s stomach lurched as she turned the page to be faced with a grainy photo of Elvis belting one of his songs into a microphone. The photo was a couple of years old, but the headline was about his show the night before. Feeling like she was about to be caught, though by whom she wasn’t quite sure, her eyes sped across the type.

There was the usual spiel about Elvis’s fame and position in popular culture, his existence as a phenomenon rather than simply an entertainer, his effect on audiences… Then the jabs started. The first one was odd, noting that the audiences were no longer solely comprised of hysterical teenage girls, making it sound like a weakness to maintain adoration from people as they grew and aged as well as attract new fans. The writer then went on to observe that Elvis was older than he had been when he first rose to fame nearly twenty years before. Get the man a damn Pulitzer. Her blood truly began to boil though, when he observed that Elvis had slowed down a lot since then too and was beginning to look ‘paunchy’. He delivered one final poke of the knife by noting that the fans’ devotion did not seem to diminish as his waistline increased.

Glancing around the diner, she spread her palm over the page and then grabbed the whole thing in her clawed hand and screwed it up into a ball. The rage sat hot and impotent in her belly, and she felt uneasy about how pervasive and fierce it was.

Back in the foyer of the hotel, she raised a hand to wave to Sonny standing by the elevator but soon dropped it along with her smile when she registered the look on his face. "You're staring. Everything okay?"

“Where have you been?” he asked tightly as she reached him.

“The diner over the way. I told the new guy.”

“You don’t tell him shit, he don’t know his ass from his elbow.”

“Well, one day you guys might want to let me know these rules,” she replied, following him into the elevator. “What’s the matter?”

“Priscilla called.”

Chancy nodded, knowing she was right to listen to her intuition and not answer the phone.

“Okay. And?”

“I think Lisa got into trouble at school. Cilla and Elvis really got into it- I guess it must have been bad, because she wouldn’t normally call so early…”

Chancy could hear him as soon as she got off the elevator, though the actual words were largely muffled except for the curse words he was taking the care to enunciate especially clearly. A few people from the show were standing around in the hallway looking tense.

“Joe’s talking about calling the doctor up to give him something to calm him down,” Sonny said under his breath. “He’s lost it.”

Pushing open the door, Chancy had about three seconds to react before a lamp flew in their direction. She tugged the door back towards herself as a shield, flinching at the force with which the metal base thumped into the hollow wood.

Jerry yanked the door out of her hand as he rushed across to check she was okay.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, eyes on the pacing form tearing through the hotel room rather than the one in front of her. Red was standing on the other side of the room, arms folded and shoulders squared as he quietly urged Elvis to sit down so that they could talk it through properly and figure out a solution to the problem.

“Only one solution,” Elvis returned, quieter but still manic. “Only one solution, I will take that bitch to fucking court, so help me. Her and that limp-dick fucking traitor she’s screwing and I will tell them- I’ll tell the whole fucking world- what a lying, conniving cunt she is. Taking my family from me, my baby! Who the fuck does she think she is, huh?!”

Chancy didn’t recognise the wild haired monster spewing such vile things in front of her. She thought about the sweet boy that she had dated, had loved, and imagined him standing beside her looking on in horror at what he was saying about the mother of his child.

“I think everyone said things they didn’t mean,” Red intoned impassively, trying to balance him out, trying to tug him down. “I think once she’s had time to calm down an’ you’ve calmed down, you can talk it out and straighten everything out.”

“I can call Joanie,” Joe put in, talking of his own ex-wife who was friends with Priscilla, “get her to go over and talk to her.”

“I give her everything, man, every- fucking- thing she asks for. She wanted to leave, wanted her own place, and I gave her that. She wanted to move my child to California and I weren’t happy about it, didn’t want it, but I didn’t stand in her way. I paid her what she asked for. I- She got everything and I got the fuckin’ scraps and now she even wants to take that away from me!” He roared, a sound so animalistic and full of rage that even Red, as broad, weary and unimpressed as any man could be, flinched.

“She’ll come round, man,” Sonny put in over Chancy’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

Elvis didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t hear it. He shuddered like just the sound of their voices disgusted him.

“You just don’t get it,” he spat. “None of you motherfuckers understand, you don’t get how this is tearing me up inside. You don’t even give a shit!” Without another word, he stormed off to the bathroom and slammed the door so hard that a picture fell from an adjacent wall.

The roomful of men stood in silence for a beat, looking at each other and then at their feet.

“Hotel manager’s on his way,” Dick informed them from the corridor. “He’s received some complaints.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Joe sighed. “Jerry, Lamar, can you put the room to rights? Write a list of anything that can’t be salvaged and I’ll go through it later.”

Lamar unpeeled himself from the wall by the bed and bent to pick up the telephone from the floor.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jerry asked Chancy, crouching down at her feet to take care of the lamp.

“Yeah, it got the door not me,” she replied.

“Those were some good fuckin’ reflexes,” Sonny murmured, patting her on the shoulder. Chancy tried to pretend to smile, but it didn’t really take.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Lisa got sent home from school for mouthing off to the teacher and apparently gave Priscilla some too when she tried to deal with her. So Priscilla said she can’t come out and see the last couple of shows.”

“She’s punishing her by stopping her from seeing her daddy?” Chancy asked, sure that she had misunderstood.

“Yup, Ice Queen strikes again,” Lamar remarked.

“Hey now,” Jerry murmured.

“I said what I said,” Lamar shot back.

“Someone needs to check on him,” Red said pointedly, stopping by the doorway where they were huddled. And if there had been any chance of his words being misconstrued, the pointed way he was staring at Chancy with his eyebrows raised left no room for doubt.

“Aw, give him a minute to cool down,” Charlie put in, pouring himself a drink from the minibar.

“We know how he cools down, man,” Red returned. “A minute is too damn long.”

Chancy nodded and crossed quickly to the bathroom, pressing her ear to the door. She knocked tentatively.

“Baby, it’s me.” She looked to the group of men standing at the doorway watching her and hated the performance. She turned, put her back to them, and rapped on the door harder.

“Elvis, let me in please.” She put iron in to her voice, picturing her grandmother, her mother, Mrs Presley, her sister, all the tough women in her life. She heard the lock being turned and nodded to herself, letting out the breath she had been holding.

Elvis was standing over the sink, his hands splayed on the counter as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Closing the door behind herself, she watched his jaw muscle flex as he visibly ground his teeth. Her eyes lowered to the black case on the counter, a couple of the drawers not quite pushed all the way back in.

“Honey,” she started, reaching out a hand, but she stumbled back when he swiped his arm and gestured for her to stay where she was. 

“Where were you?” He was hoarse, she wondered how long he had been ranting.

“Across the street at the diner. I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t think you’d be awake for hours.”

“Why’s she doing this to me, Cha-Cha?” His head dropped as his voice all but disappeared. “I know I wasn’t a good husband to her, I know that, but I’ve tried so hard… I- That child is the only thing that matters to me and she knows that.”

“For what it’s worth, I think she’ll change her mind, like Red said, when she calms down. Sounds like things got real heated between them and she went for the only thing she knew that would get through to Lisa.”

“Would you talk to her? Make her see what this is doing to me? Please?”

Chancy stared at his bloodshot eyes pleading with her from beneath his lowered brow and she sighed thickly. Her gorge rose as she envisioned it, those dry, overcooked diner pancakes catching in her throat.

“I don’t know that it would do any good, darlin’. We haven’t spoken in… forever. And what could I say to her? I don’t have any kids, I’d be talking out of my hat. What about Patsy or Grandma? She’d be more likely to listen to them. I can call and ask them to call her?” He nodded, levering his arms down so that he was propped up on his elbows rather than his hands.

“I just…” He shook his head slightly. “I just don’t know what I’d do without her.” His words slurred and thickened, fading into nothing.

“I know, sweetheart, but it won’t come to that.” She tried stepping forward again, watchful for any sign from him that he didn’t want her near. He turned foggily as she brushed against his side and stumbled, struggling to maintain his balance. She grabbed him as he wrapped his arms around her. Oh so gradually, they sank down, Chancy using all her strength to slow their fall.

“It’s okay, s’okay, s’okay,” Elvis murmured softly, like she was the one who was dropping and he was taking care of her.

As soon as her butt hit the floor, Chancy swallowed down her grief and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She wanted to cry, her lips were trembling and her throat ached with unshed tears, even her skin was icy cold with pain, but she was sure that if she started she would never stop. And he needed her. He needed so much.

Elvis hummed to himself before quietly singing in a falsetto. Chancy blinked as she recognised ‘Walk like a man’ by Frankie Valli.

“You know,” he mumbled, “that was playing in the hospital when we were waiting for her to be born.” He snorted, resting his head on her shoulder. “This nurse came barrelling in and turned off the radio like hearing someone else’s song’d make me mad. And… And I remember thinking it was a sign. Ain’t no coincidences, there was more to it than met the eye. Things were about to change and I was gonna find out what kind of man I was.”

“Aren’t the lyrics about walking away from a girl that’s been doing him wrong?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “Maybe should’ve listened closer to that part too.”

She took a moment just to breathe and assess the situation. They were on the floor in a hotel bathroom, which was not the most sanitary place in the world, but there was no more yelling or throwing things. Elvis was high, undoubtedly so and to the point where he could no longer stand, but he was talking largely coherently, at least to her attuned to thick Southern drawl ears. It could be worse. Could be better, but could be a lot worse too.

“So, wait, did the nurse think that you just, what, listen to yourself all the time? You have a jukebox with all your own records on it?” He started laughing and it was such a blessed sound that she did too.

“Yeah, and I walk round shooting out car radios and in stores…” He dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, dropping down until his head was in her lap. 

“Disc jockeys hear that you’re coming in town and just-“ She made a record scratch noise and mimed tossing a record like a frisbee. “And play your latest single on a loop. Where do people get their crazy ideas?!”

“Goddamn tabloids and gossip magazines,” he sighed. His face creased as he burst into another fit, unable to even explain what had set him off. Whatever it was tickled him so much that he ended up gasping for breath, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh Lord!”

“Crazy boy,” she murmured affectionately, combing her fingers through his hair, working out the sleep knots. He hummed, fighting the giggles, and rolled so his face was turned towards her stomach.

With a sly smile, he lifted her sweater and stuck his head underneath. She shivered as she felt his lips brush against her rib cage. The scrape of his stubble tickled just above the waistband of her jeans and she couldn’t help the way her stomach muscles twitched beneath his kisses.

“Need a flashlight or a miner’s helmet in here.” His voice was muffled beneath the fabric and she felt a huff of warm air against her sternum as he laughed. She rolled her eyes and pulled back the neck of the sweater.

“Oh hey, fancy meeting you here!” she remarked brightly. “You big goof!”

There was a sharp rapping on the door and Chancy knew before she even heard the voice that it would be Red. It was his kind of knock.

“Hey boss, uh, everything all right in there?”

In response, Elvis reached up and grabbed hold of her sweater to make sure to keep it over his face. Chancy watched and also felt him pressing his whole face into the soft hollow of her stomach like a little kid’s attempt at hiding.

“Uh, everything’s fine!” she called out instead.

“Well, I, uh, just wanted to let you know that we were gonna go to lunch, unless you needed us for anything. Dave’ll be just outside the door and you can reach us down in the restaurant.”

“Okay, thank you, Red!”

“Yeah, uh, take it easy.”

The sound of the door clomping shut signalled their departure. After that brief intrusion from the real world, the humour ran right out of their situation. Once a couple of minutes had passed, Elvis pulled back from underneath her sweater and squinted around them.

“Uh, Cha-Cha, why’re we on the floor?” he asked in a bemused, childlike drawl. She blinked and a tiny, stupid tear sneaked out of the corner of her eye and trickled against her earlobe.

“You fell down, baby, don’t you remember?”

“No, I didn’t!” he muttered dismissively. He went to sit up, but it was clearly a struggle for him and she gave a helping hand where she could until he finally made it leaning back against the counter.

“Can you go check they’re all gone?” he asked quietly. She nodded, reaching up to grab hold of the edge of the sink and pull herself to her feet. Cautiously, she opened the door a crack and peered out.

“They’re all gone, honey. It’s just me and you.”

“’K. Then take those damn clothes off.” She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “I bought you half a fuckin’ clothing store last night, woman, and you’re wearing jeans. Blue fuckin’ jeans!”

Whatever he had taken had stolen the fire right out of him along with his balance, and his rant was breathy and bemused rather than furious. She bit down to stop herself from smiling, not wanting to test the limits of this muted temper. 

“I couldn’t wear an evening dress to a diner,” she pointed out. “I might have spilt syrup on it!”

“And what in the hell were you doing at a goddamn diner?!”

“Eating pancakes.”

“Motherf-” He pinched the bridge of his nose and peered with one eye open at her. “You are so lucky that I can’t get my ass off this floor right now, because you are asking for a whoopin’.” 

“Because of my blue jeans?” she asked, leaning over onto the bed and shaking her butt in the direction of the bathroom. She clambered onto the bed, thinking about how soft and comfortable it was under her knees and considering whether she actually wanted to pivot from teasing him to suggesting they both take a nap, when there was a clatter and commotion behind her. The weight of him crashed into her and they both collapsed onto their backs.

“Ow,” she said finally, staring up again at that one tile with the crumbled corner.

“Serves you right,” he muttered.

“All right, all right,” she sighed. “If it bothers you that much…” She unbuttoned the fly of her jeans and wriggled them down her hips and legs, letting them drop from her feet, but when she stretched out on her side beside him, he looked pointedly at her sweater and raised his eyebrows. So, she sighed and tugged that over her head, trying to smooth down her hair with her hands.

“Don’t bother me none,” he murmured, rolling onto his side to face her. “Just don’t understand why you wanna dress that way. God made you a beautiful woman, honey, so be a beautiful woman. Don’t try and be something that you’re not and throw away what He gave you.”

“So, God doesn’t want me to wear blue jeans either?”

“Nope.” He smiled wryly, his lip curling. ”We’ve had some pretty in-depth conversations about it.”

“All those times I took you to church did nothing, did they,” she sighed.

“Woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.” He wrinkled his nose and gave her a smug smile.

“…Women should adorn themselves in modest apparel… not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly array,” she countered. “If I can’t wear jeans, I also can’t wear jewellery or those fancy dresses.”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not go crazy,” he replied softly.

“Don’t go crazy,” she echoed. “I’m sitting in my underwear in bed with Elvis Presley arguing bible verse. I think we passed a ‘Welcome to Crazytown’ sign quite a way down the road…”

“Honey, I live in Crazytown.”

“Yeah, you are pretty much the Mayor of Crazytown,” she agreed.

“You ain’t supposed to agree!” He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto him.

“Well, you don’t want me to lie, do you?!” She kissed him, smiling into it as his warm arms encircled her.

“First you insult me and then you kiss me, I see how it is,” he mumbled, opening his mouth, and nipping at her bottom lip. She deepened the kiss, wanting to draw him in, wanting to break through to him, to meld them both together so that no one else, not even spiteful reporters or angry ex-wives could cause them pain again.

He cupped her jaw as he returned her kisses, kneading his soft lips against her like she was fragile. This would have been endearing and lovely any other day, but today gentle and sensitive was not what she was looking for. She hooked her arms under his, digging her fingers into his shoulders and pushed in tighter. He grunted beneath her, exhaling sharply as she rocked into his soft belly.

“Hey, slow down, baby, ain’t a race,” he mumbled. He gently but firmly pushed her back, supporting her neck as she tipped back onto the mattress.

“I just want to be close to you,” she said quietly, feeling her cheeks heat up as she stared intently over his shoulder.

“I know what you need,” he said, his tone teasing. He pulled her in tight so that her side was pressed against his front. She could feel the rise and full of his breathing against her rib cage. And then his hand trailed down to her new white satin panties, fingertips running across the front of them appreciatively. She shivered.

Biting his lip, he slipped his hand under the elastic, fingers sliding slowly between her folds. Even as she melted, he let out a soft, breathy moan, pressing his lips to her jaw, his forehead to her temple, like he had to be in contact with her in as many places as possible.

“Damn, like the fires of hell down there,” he remarked, fingers slipping and gliding as if he was writing his damn autograph. She felt as though he was showing attention to every part except for the bundle of nerves just begging to be explored. “You been burning for me, baby?”

“Mmm hmm,” she managed, jutting her hip slightly to surreptitiously move his hand. In response, he inched slightly further away because he was an ass and a control freak.

“Uh uh, in your patience possess ye your souls, honey.”

“No more… Bible,” she pleaded. He pretended to be shocked at such a thing coming from her good, Christian mouth, but finally took pity on her and kneaded her clit with the pad of his thumb. Her leg spasmed as her nerve-endings exploded with sensation. Elvis draped himself over her side, slinging a leg over hers, his face pressed against hers like he was escorting her on the journey instead of presiding over it. She felt his pillowy lips press against her cheekbone as he slipped a finger inside her, the ticklish drag drawing out a moan.

“I got you, baby, I got you,” he cooed, as she reached up and grasped his shoulder. He set an inexorable pace, his shallow breaths and occasional moans in her ear doing just as much to send her over the edge as his fingers. As the crescendo built, she turned her face and sought out his lips, crying out into his mouth as she came.

When she opened her eyes, she found his still closed, a faint line of concentration between his dark brows. It made it difficult for her to pull away, even as she needed to in order to ground herself. She frowned ruefully when she noticed three thin red lines running from his cheek down to his jaw, the blood already dried on the reddened skin around them. She reached up to touch, realising that her fingers lined up perfectly. Elvis winced slightly, finally opening his eyes.

“You’ve scratched yourself, darlin’,” she murmured.

“S’probably old,” he murmured. “From the show.”

“No, it’s been bleeding.” She rose and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table, trotting off to the bathroom to wet it before dabbing the dried red beads away.

After some careful suggestion and cajoling, she finally managed to get him to agree to take a shower, promising that she would have breakfast waiting for him when he returned. She had to help him into the bathroom, though he seemed steadier on his feet than he had before.

“I’m going to call down for room service,” she told him emphatically as he seemed to change his mind and started to follow her back out of the bathroom. “But you need to get washed up, baby. Be good now.”

“Don’t shut the door,” he garbled back quickly, all the words running into each other.

“Okay, I won’t.” She left it open a crack and walked to the phone, feeling disquieted and afraid, though why she couldn’t pick out. She discovered that when Lamar had picked up the phone he hadn’t quite put the receiver properly back on the hook.

It wasn’t until Chancy started giving Elvis’s breakfast order to the room service attendant that she finally heard the shower turn on, as if he had been waiting to check that she was doing as she promised. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thanks to the sister wives:

@ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @from-memphis-with-love, @missmaywemeetagain Tag List: @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber, @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters, @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics, @eliseinmemphis, @lookingforrainbows, @stylespresleyhearted, @amydarcimarie, @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation,

#elvis presley #70s elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #an enjoyable slide to oblivion #whositmcwhatsit

[angrelysimpping]

Whitney

[Start]

AMAB Whitney, he/him; AFAB Reader, you/your; fingering, reader receiving; oral, reader receiving and giving; reader gets called things like: slut, whore, and good girl

Words: 964

“Oh,” Kylar says, his voice trembling.

Before you can say anything, Kylar rushes out of the room. Robin glances between you and Whitney before hurrying after him. You’re not sure if the brightness in Robin’s eyes was real or imagined. Either way, you feel a bit guilty.

You look back at Whitney and he gives a predatory smile as he stalks toward you. 

“Knees,” he says, “now.”

You drop obediently.

“There’s a good slut,” he mutters, rubbing the head of his dick against your lips, putting a hand on top of your head to keep you from moving. “Now open wide.”

The taste of Whitney’s dick is strange on your tongue. Foreign. But, well, not unpleasant, surprisingly. 

“First time?” he asks, laughing when you give a small nod, eyes flitting up to meet his. “Don’t worry, I bet you’ll get addicted in no time!”

Whitney isn't gentle, thrusting into your mouth. His hand is on the back of your head, gripping your scalp, nails digging into your skin. It stops you from pulling away as the head of cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. 

Like a fleshlight, you think dimly. Whitney is using your mouth like a fleshlight and all you can do is grip his hips and take it, trying in vain to not gag as tears start running freely down your face.  

"That's it, choke on me, slut."

It hurts, Whitney using you like this. But it also makes a heat gather in your stomach, makes your cunt ache in a way nothing else ever has before.

Still clutching onto one of Whitney’s hips, you slip your other hand under your skirt.

Whitney laughs above you, voice a bit breathy. “Getting off on getting your mouth fucked, huh?”

When you don’t answer, Whitney slaps your cheek. Not hard, but enough to sting. “Asked you a question, slut.” 

You give a soft hum, enjoying how the vibrations make Whitney shudder. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath. He presses your head down, forcing you to take him to the base, as he cums down the back of your throat.  

He keeps you held there, making you drink him down, even as you struggle to breathe.

Eventually, he lets you go, and you pull back coughing. You’re not given long to catch your breath as Whitney descends upon you, pushing you onto your back.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t return the favor, slut." He gives you a grin, pushing your skirt up. “Good to see you’re following my rules,” he says upon revealing your glistening cunt. “Would hate to have to punish you after you’ve been such a good little whore.” 

You jump, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing rough circles around it. “Aren’t you a desperate little shit, soaking from just giving a blow job.”

Whitney pushes a finger into you. "Look how easy you took that.” He adds two fingers at once, laughing when you whine. "Bet you could take my cock no problem."

His words send a mixed wave of arousal and panic through you. You really don't want to fuck on a classroom floor, to walk around the rest of the day clenching your thighs to keep Whitney's cum from leaking out of you. At the same time, the idea turns you on endlessly. 

You're about to voice your thoughts when Whitney curls his fingers in you, hitting a spot you never managed to reach when touching yourself. You clap a hand over your mouth as your words turn into a loud moan, 

"Do me a favor, would ya?" Whitney grabs your free hand, pulling it down and manipulating your fingers until you're spreading yourself. "Hold that open for me like a good girl, so I can tongue fuck your slutty cunt."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, diving down and assaulting you with his tongue. Whitney holding down your thighs is the only thing that keeps you from clamping them around his head. You press your hand hard against your mouth as Whitney goes to town. No matter how hard you try, you can’t suppress all the sounds he's pulling out of you. Pressure builds in your abdomen as Whitney laps away, unabashed at the loud, wet sounds he was making by tonguing your cunt. Loud enough that surely any passerby would hear. 

His face is buried in your cunt, tongue stretching out your hole and nose grinding into your clit, when you cum without warning.

The power of your orgasm steals your breath away, the only sound you're able to make is a hiss as you arch into him. Whitney takes it in stride, continuing to lick you until you're tugging at his hair, overwhelmed. Whitney gives you one last, lazy lick, circling your clit with his tongue and making you whine, before pulling away. 

Whitney crawls up your body, pressing his mouth against yours in an aggressive kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. When he pulls away, you're still reeling, breathless. He pulls your shirt up to his mouth and wipes away your slick. 

"Something to remember me by," he says with a crooked grin, climbing to his feet. You stay on the ground, dazed. Whitney stretches, his back popping and shirt riding up to show a sliver of his stomach, before he pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. 

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. 

"Later, slut," Whitney calls, exiting the room. 

It takes you a moment to gather yourself. Fixing your clothes, you stumble out of the room just before a few students start to come down the hall from the direction of the canteen. 

You're going to have a very awkward history class sitting next to Robin. 

#whitney the bully

[hacash]

ted lasso 3x02 thoughts

Listen, I think we can all agree that this episode could pretty much be titled ‘Trent Crimm: Return of the Crimm’. I’m not even a big tedpendent girl but this was definitely their time.

I loved seeing Trent back at Richmond! It’s going to be great having more of James Lance on the show: one thing I did think was that Trent had definitely lost a little bit of his customary swagger – he’s back at Richmond but he’s no longer dominating the press room, he’s very much now in the jock-dominated locker room where the Roy storyline made it clear that he no longer has that commanding power that he did in the world of journalism (James Lance’s headcanon that Trent got into sports journalism because his dad wanted him to be into football – Trent is both of that world and not of it - lives in my head rent-free), and the entire arc of this episode was a really interesting way of easing Trent into this scene.

Being a non-sports, non-celebrity, non-rich person, the one gripe I often have with Ted Lasso is it very much takes the rich celebrity jock-ish status of the team as given – of course the himbos are justified in being paid ludicrous sums of money, of course it’s funny and not unsettling that Jamie thinks of non-celebrities as ‘muggles’. So having Trent, who’ll be the first locker-room-regular to come from a more academic, working-a-regular-non-sports-job-background, will be an interesting dynamic switch.

Roy’s entire arc with Trent just stabbed me in the heart. I always knew there had to be more to the ‘you’re a colossal prick and you always have been’ line and now I feel so freaking vindicated. And whoever pointed out that Roy refused to carry on the cycle of condemning teenage players back in s2 as a pundit…argh.

AND HE CARRIED THAT REVIEW AROUND WITH HIM FOR TWENTY-ODD YEARS. (Apparently the British comedian Eric Morecambe did a similar thing: carrying an old bad review of his first television appearance with him for the rest of his life despite reaching unparalleled success in his heyday. *sniffles*)

The one thing that was slightly jarring about Trent’s return was it felt like everyone (except for Roy) was surprisingly chill about him being at Richmond, considering that he was the journalist who broke the story about Ted’s mental health problems (Keeley even mentions gunning for Trent in the S2 finale). Of course, Ted being Ted we can assume he did a lot of sticking up for Trent at the time, but this only turns us back again to the big, painful, heart-stomping elephant in the room…how much does the rest of the Richmond crew know about the leak? And if it does ever slip out, how exactly is that going to go down?

On that note, I was under the impression that we only had to suffer more of Rupert if we also got more delicious Nate angst and arcs into the bargain. The fact that this week we had Rupert’s gross manipulations and no Nate is just a slap in the face.

(Anthony Head remains so wonderfully evil though.)

Zava! I’ve been hypothesising about him since leaked pictures of the first West Ham match hit Twitter, and I’m really interested in seeing where he goes…though, I’ll be real, right now he strikes me as just a prick. And not even a dumb, amusing prick like s1 Jamie (who I knew I was going to have a grudging soft spot for back when he piped up about the snacks being shit), but just…a prick. We’ll see though. I’m also really looking forward to seeing Jamie’s reaction to Zava: if he doesn’t like sharing the spotlight with another ace, or if it’s seeing the primadonna beneath the glamour and not wanting Zava to hurt his team.

And speaking of Zava’s hire…Rebecca’s takedown of him was magnificent, and her ability to be dragged into dodgy business decisions just to one-up Rupert are being played for laughs right now…but let’s be real, this show always plays things for laughs before turning the tables on you. Which basically means: this is going to hurt like a motherfucker.

Also REBECCA WAS THE OTHER WOMAN?!?!? God, that adds so many layers to Sassy telling her she’d hurt people while with Rupert. I cannot wait to find out more about that, it’s already hurting my heart.

DANI SCORING A GOAL WITH HIS FACE. Also his puppy dog excitement about Zava, which I’m sure won’t come back to bite him in the arse later.

I love how Higgins is basically the Richmond equivalent of Varys – he has his contacts everywhere, and no secrets are secret from him.

Keeley and Barbara! Honestly, I’m quite here for where this is going – Barbara’s attitude in this ep unkind and, let’s be honest, pretty classist when it came to Shazza(? Keeley’s model friend?), but also you do need someone to be boring and sensible and check the numbers when it comes to running a business. I’m hoping they keep working together well.

And that moment when Keeley watched Roy come back to Chelsea *lip wobble*

Actually, that entire Chelsea return moment…

AND the knowledge that Roy left Chelsea and Keeley because he couldn’t bear to be left… That revelation hurt. Not even Ted batting his eyes cartoon-anime-style could take the sting out of that kick to the chest.

Jamie continuing to go from strength to strength by trying to comfort Roy (unsuccessfully) in this episode, in his own unique fashion. ‘Old people are jumpy because of the war’ was incredible.

Not nearly enough himbos in this episode, I’m sorry to say, but the scene where they react to Zava, Trent, and Roy breaking up with Keeley was a thing of absolute beauty. And Beard’s shriek at the news was both hilarious and justifiable.

I’m also fascinated by the choice to have the himbos identify the best tactic to fight back at the Chelsea match, rather than Ted – it’s the second time in so many episodes when someone else has stepped up to do something which would traditionally be Ted’s role, and I’m wondering if there’s a pattern here. (And if there is, how Ted – who’s clearly uncertain about his place at Richmond – will interpret that.)

God, I almost nearly forgot that this was the episode where we found out that Isaac is a student of kinesics (Renaissance man!) and apparently regularly checks out Roy’s arse. Here we were all thinking Colin would be confirmed queer this season…is McAdoo about to sneak in from under our noses?

Also the post-gym scenes made this the episode where I realised the Greyhounds are definitely sporting a somewhat more...athletic look this season. I may have to put together some s1 v s3 comparison pics to be sure about this. Stay tuned.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso speculation #theodore lasso #coach beard #trent crimm: the independent #roy kent #rebecca welton #keeley jones #rupert mannion #isaac mcadoo #jamie tartt

[bad-fucking-omens]

The Witch Twin (Alec V. x OC) - Chapter 11 - Newborn

Summary: When I thought about my future, I was sure that I had the rest of my life vaguely planned out.

Then, my older sister moved up from Arizona to stay with us — and turned my entire life upside down.

I had no idea just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in a castle in Italy, convinced that I was about to die.

Length: 2.7K words (Complete fic 71.8K words)

Fic warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, explicit smut (M/F), referenced/implied past child abuse, emotional manipulation by sibling

Chapter warnings: Graphic violence, death (unnamed characters)

Read on AO3 or read below

11. NEWBORN

I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes wide with wonder as I realized just how sharp and clear everything was. I could see each singular dust particle that swirled through the air, each tiny spec of sand that made up the bricks that the castle was built with.

My ears pricked at the sound of feet shuffling across the stone floor. Instinctively, a growl ripped through my throat as I sprang out of the bed I was lying on, landing in a crouched position in a far corner of the room. My eyes flickered across the room as I searched for the threat that my body was screaming was nearby.

A man appeared in the doorway. He shoved a struggling, gagged human into the room. The sweet scent of her blood fanned the inferno that burned through my throat and I launched myself at the woman, grabbing her and sinking my teeth into her neck.

Blood flooded my mouth, soothing the raging fire that was in my throat. Her blood was warm, so warm that it felt eerily similar to drinking coffee on a cold day and feeling the warmth fill your body and chase off the cold. It was sweet, too, so sweet that I knew nothing else I had ever tasted in my human life could have ever tasted as good as this.

The sound of feet moving across the stone floor made my eyes snap open, zeroing in towards the direction the sound came from. A feral growl ripped through my burning throat, even as I continued to drain the woman of her blood. The moment I looked up at the man who had moved, he froze. Slowly, he took a step back and turned his hands over so they were palms-up. I looked away from him, focusing back on the woman whose blood I was drinking.

I dropped the woman to the floor when she had no more blood in her body. I could feel her warm, sticky, sweet blood smeared across my lips and dripping down my chin. Even my fingers were covered in the red liquid from where I had grabbed the woman too hard. My fingers had pushed through her skin and muscle as easily as they had once pushed through softened butter.

My eyes flickered over to the entrance of the room as a group of guards entered the room. I dropped back into a defensive crouch, my muscles tensing as another snarl ran through my still-burning throat.

“Back off,” the dark-haired male said, looking over at the guards. His face was familiar, angular and masculine and beautiful, but I couldn’t quite place him in my dim memories. “You are overwhelming her by being too offensive. She is reacting to it the only way she knows how.”

“Stand down,” a soft voice ordered.

The guards backed towards the door again, leaving me alone in the room with the dark-haired man. I looked at him as he spoke softly.

“Eve.”

He walked around the bed and approached me. My muscles tensed and then I leapt at him before I even realized what I was doing. I saw the man stumble back in shock before I was suddenly on the ground, screaming. It felt as if the fire that was burning my throat had spread to sear every cell in my body.

It felt like an eternity had passed before the pain finally disappeared. I panted as my eyes reeled around, trying to get my bearings again. When I spotted the dark-haired man kneeling close to me, I knocked him to the ground, intending to sink my teeth into his throat and rip it out.

But then I caught his scent and it triggered the memory of Alec pulling me into his arms in the throne room and I froze. My razor sharp teeth grazed his skin, but he remained perfectly still underneath me. I closed my mouth slowly and took a deep breath, letting his sweet, intoxicating scent soak into my lungs.

I lifted my head and stared down at the dark-haired man. He didn’t speak or move or even breathe as I looked at him, my head tilting to the side slightly in confusion. The angles of his face, which had always seemed too harsh to my weak human eyes, were much softer now. His hair seemed to be lighter than I remembered, and his eyes were a darker shade of red than they had been the day he bit me.

“Alec?”

His eyelids fluttered and a slight, breathless sigh left his lips. “Yes,” he whispered.

My eyebrows furrowed even further. I wanted to believe that this was Alec, but I still couldn’t quite correlate his new face with the face I remembered from my dim memories.

“You . . . you look so different than what I remember. . . .”

The corner of his lips twitched up in an almost-smile. His voice was quiet and smooth and familiar as he said, “Human eyes aren’t very clear, my sweet girl.”

My instincts quickly retreated and I relaxed out of my defensive posture at the familiar term of endearment. This truly was my Alec.

“I know that it’s overwhelming, Eve,” he said softly.

Hesitantly, Alec reached up to touch my cheek. I let my eyes fall closed as I leaned into his warm touch — he was warm!

“I’m sorry, I should have warned you that this would happen. Everything is alright, my love, I promise you. . . . May I get up, please?”

My eyes snapped open as I realized that I was still straddling him on the floor. I quickly stood and Alec got to his feet in front of me. He met my eyes, an eyebrow raised in question. I nodded to assure him that I was more in control of myself now. He looked over at the guards that were still gathered in the doorway and he dismissed them with a curt nod. They shuffled away as Alec looked back at me and smiled warmly.

I trailed my gaze across his face, tracing the line of his jaw and cheekbones and his soft lips. My eyes followed the curve of his nose to his almond-shaped eyes and his dark eyebrows. I lifted my hand to his face and slowly traced my fingertip along the curves and angles of his features.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured. “I love you so much.”

Alec grinned at my words. “I love you, too.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, hidden in one of my fast-fading, murky memories, I knew that I had never said that I loved him before my transformation. In fairness to myself, we had only known each other for a few weeks and I had loved him when I was human, but that love felt so minuscule compared to what I felt for him now. Alec was my entire soul. He was everything to me, just as I knew that I was everything to him.

Alec slowly leaned closer and pressed his lips to mine. I curled my arms around him. One of my hands tangled in his dark, silky curls, while my other arm wound around his waist and pulled his body against mine.

“Careful, sweet girl,” Alec said, breaking apart from our kiss. “You’re a bit stronger than I am right now.”

I smiled sheepishly and mumbled an apology as I withdrew my arms from his body.

I looked around the room. I was still amazed at how crystal clear my vision was. Nothing was out of focus or too small for me to see. Perhaps microscopic organisms or particles, but everything else was visible. Dust swirled in the air with every breath I took.

Even breathing was strange now. There was no relief in the action anymore, but holding my breath was uncomfortable now for another reason — it dulled my sense of smell. When I breathed, I could taste the air around me. The scent of blood, which was drying around my mouth and on my chin and fingers, hung in the air, heady and sweet and fanning the flames in my throat again.

I was startled at the feeling of someone touching my face. My head snapped towards the person, a deep growl rumbling in my chest before I strangled it the moment I realized that it was only Alec who had touched me. My eyes fell to the floor guiltily.

“It’s alright, my love,” Alec murmured. “It was my fault for touching you when you weren’t paying attention to me.”

I turned towards him and wrapped my arms around his waist, careful to restrain my strength. I rested my head on his shoulder and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. I took a deep breath, letting his perfect scent soothe me now, just as it had when I was a human. He put his arms around me as my body relaxed into his. I tilted my head up to look at him, love making my heart flutter wildly in my chest. Alec bent his head down to peck my lips quickly.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered against my mouth. “Are you still thirsty?”

My hand flew up to clutch my throat as the flames raged again. I nodded and Alec quickly backed away from me. A blonde girl appeared in the doorway, easily shoving another gagged human into the room.

The scent of the man’s blood was all I could focus on. I grabbed him by his shirt, which ripped like tissue paper as I tried to pull him closer. With a frustrated growl, I moved towards the human and finally sank my teeth into the meaty junction between his neck and shoulder. My eyes fluttered shut as blood poured down my throat once again, dulling the flames. His blood was less sweet than the woman’s had been, but it was still so warm and delicious.

His dead body fell to my feet when I was done with him. I wiped his blood away from my mouth with the back of my hand, my eyes flicking up to meet Alec’s.

My mate walked over to me. He kissed me passionately, one of his hands cradling the back of my head while his other arm curled tightly around my waist. I rested my hands on the sides of his neck, still trying to keep a handle on my newfound strength.

When we broke apart, his lips were red from the blood of the humans I had drained. I felt a flutter in the bottom of my belly as we stared at each other, pride shining in his eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

My head tilted slightly as I studied him. Wasn’t it obvious that I trusted him? I had trusted him with my life when I was human, and the transformation had only strengthened the trust I had in him. Finally, I nodded and Alec smiled at me.

“Close your eyes, my love.”

I obeyed. Alec took my hand in his and led me out of the room. I tensed when I heard a third pair of footsteps slightly behind us, but Alec quickly squeezed my hand and assured me, “It’s okay. It’s only Jane, my twin sister.”

I relaxed again. We stopped moving after a few moments and Alec let go of my hand, though he made sure to keep contact with my arm as he moved to stand behind me. His hands moved to my waist as he carefully positioned me.

“Open your eyes, sweet girl.”

My eyes opened. It took me a moment to realize that I was standing in front of a mirror rather than looking at another female vampire.

I almost couldn’t believe that I was actually looking at myself. The longer that I looked, the more I could recognize familiar features, like the color of my hair and the shape of my eyes, but other features seemed to be entirely different.

The woman looking back at me in the mirror was ethereally beautiful. She had long, brown hair the color of scorched caramel that fell in perfect, gentle waves to just below the curve of her breasts. Her lips were full and rosy, and her skin was as pale and smooth as porcelain. Her eyes were bright, blood red, a shade lighter than the blood that was still drying around her mouth and on her chin. The one imperfection on her body was the silvery, scarred bite mark on her neck.

Alec laid his hands on the woman’s shoulders and our eyes met in the mirror. My heart fluttered when I saw his warm smile. He gently pulled my hair behind my shoulders, then leaned around to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Twelve hundred years I have lived, and I have never seen anyone so stunningly beautiful,” Alec whispered against my skin.

I smiled shyly and Alec laughed. He pressed another kiss to my shoulder and I leaned back against his chest. He put his arms around my waist.

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

Alec hummed. “Human eyes are very weak compared to ours, and it is difficult for us to remember our human lives after we turn. You should try to remember as much as you can right now. The longer you wait, the more your memories will fade.”

I closed my eyes. I tried to focus on my human memories, but Alec was right. It was as if I was trying to look at them through murky water. They kept fading in and our of focus and I knew that I had to be missing parts of conversations that had already faded away entirely. It was frustrating trying to sort through the blurry memories, but after a while, I finally filed through enough of my memories that I felt comfortable focusing my attention back on Alec.

“I love you,” he murmured quietly into my hair.

“I love you, too,” I said softly. He grinned and I smiled at him.

I turned in his arms to face him, slipping my arms around his waist. Our eyes fluttered shut and Alec rested his forehead against mine.

“You’re not cold anymore,” I said. “I like it.”

Alec chuckled. “Not quite, my love. You’re just as cold as I am now.”

“Kiss me again,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate to press his lips to mine. If I thought I was overwhelmed when he kissed me as a human, it was nothing compared to what I felt now. This time, I didn’t feel as if I was kissing a living statue — his lips moved against mine like flesh rather than stone. I had to concentrate on keeping control of my strength, but it wasn’t as hard as I expected. Most of my mind was focused on how his body felt against mine and the way he touched me and how he smelled — like chamomile and lavender and candied lemon.

We finally broke apart and Alec smiled at me. His eyes followed his fingers as they traced a path along my face. I let my eyes fall shut once again, my mind entirely focused on the tingling sensation of his touch. Whenever he had touched me or even looked at me when I was human, I always felt so calm. The serenity was still there, but now, intense desire was intertwined with it.

Alec traced his fingertips slowly around my lips. I let out a small breath and pressed my body more firmly against his. His arm tightened around my waist and my eyes opened again. I looked up at him, easily recognizing the lust in his eyes that I was sure was mirrored in my own.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he sighed quietly. Alec rested his forehead against mine. “I didn’t think that you would be so composed. Most newborn vampires cannot focus on anything other than satisfying their thirst for the first year. . . . If I had known that you would be so controlled, I would have made sure that we would have time where we could go somewhere, all alone.”

I pouted a little and Alec’s lips quirked into a smirk. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and said, “Soon, my sweet little mate. I will take you away somewhere we can be entirely alone and get lost in our love for each other. I did promise to give you anything you ever asked for, didn’t I?”

#alec volturi x reader #alec volturi imagine #alec volturi fanfiction #alec volturi #volturi fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #fanfic #twilight imagine #twilight #volturi

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

The Lair in the Woods: Part 4

A/N: Taking a little break from book 3 this weekend to do some crafting and such 😊 I meant to post this last week, but I never finished it though I did finish draft one of book 3 and am “working” on editing it now!

Warnings: feelings of fear and anxiety, near panic, medical scenario (past hypothermia-esque scenario, nearly freezing to death), references to stalking/being stalked, swearing, maybe slight manipulation but it’s not intended!

My Masterlist | Taglist Info | The Lair in the Woods series masterlist

Civilian dozed on and off uneasily, woken by the most innocuous of sounds from the heater kicking in to the creak of the old logs. Every so often, Supervillain would creep into the room and put another log or two on the fire. They’d stoke it, staring into the flames for a moment, before disappearing back the way they’d come. They didn’t look at Civilian when they came, and Civilian wondered if they were pointedly ignoring them or if they were even aware that Civilian was watching them.

It wasn’t until the first sign of the pale dawn light had come streaming through the high windows positioned near the ceiling that Civilian’s ear pricked again. Their eyes burst open with alarm. Heart pounding against their chest, Civilian kept completely still, listening as soft footfalls came closer and closer with each creak of the floor.

A shadow appeared behind the chair their savior had once occupied. Still, the figure came closer, holding a medium-sized duffle bag. Civilian’s breaths stuttered for only a moment before it began to tear in and out of their lungs.

“Whoa,” the person said quietly. “It’s okay, I’m just here to check on you. There’s no need to be frightened. I’m [Medic’s fake name]. I guess [Supervillain Alias] didn’t mention I’d be checking in on you?”

Civilian eyed them skeptically. “They did.”

Taking a slow step toward them, Medic asked, “May I?”

They pointed to the spot beside their bed of furs and blankets, but Civilian just kept staring back at them. Supervillain had said that Medic would be coming but…what if this was a part of their plan? What if more than one person had been sending them those letters? What if…what if it was a pair of stalkers and not just one?

“Is it all right if I examine you?” Medic stared curiously at them, holding their bag aloft as if it explained what they were going to do.

“N-no,” Civilian stammered, shifting as far away as they could on the bed without falling off.

“Oh, uh,” Medi scratched their head. “Okay then. Could…could you tell me how you’re feeling then? Better, worse, the same? Are you in any pain?”

Civilian continued to watch them warily, not providing any answers. Medic bounced on their heels, staring at them expectantly.

Finally, Civilian found their voice. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe you do have some head trauma,” Medic muttered to themselves. They raised their brow, tilting their head. “Did Supervillain not tell you what happened?”

“I don’t believe them.”

“Oh…kay,” Medic said, taking a step back. “I’ll just…come back—Ah, Supervillain!”

“Leave them be, Medic,” Supervillain said, strolling past them both and into the kitchen. “Civilian’s terrified of something…or someone.”

Medic glanced back at them and then followed after Supervillain, leaving Civilian alone in the sitting room. Civilian craned their neck to try and watch them over the top of the couch their bed had been built against, but to little effect. They were half tempted to follow after both of them, but maybe now was the perfect time to try their escape. As the whir of a coffee maker greeted their ears, overpowering the low muttering of the pair arguing animatedly over something, Civilian’s eyes darted to the hallway Supervillain had emerged from.

Their lips pressed into a determined line. Furrowing their brows in concentration, Civilian took one last glance into the kitchen, making certain the pair was too occupied to be watching them. Taking a breath, they gathered their courage.

This was their chance. And they certainly weren’t about to let it slip through their fingertips.

*

“I don’t know!” Supervillain hissed, “It’s not like I came out and told them who I am or what we really do here!”

“Well they’re more than terrified! They’re nervous system is shot, and not from their near-death experience!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Medic,” they whispered dangerously. “I’m not an idiot, I think I know when someone’s truly terrified. I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Hey, I’m just stating a fact,” Medic clarified, gesturing toward the living room. “They’re about three seconds away from a pa—”

“Wait,” Supervillain stood on their toes, craning their neck to peer into the living room. “Where’s Civilian?”

Medic followed their gaze. They audibly swallowed. “Shit.”

“Call Right Hand. Now.”

“On it. I’ll check the corridor,” Medic said, already walking away from the kitchen and pulling their jacket back on.

Supervillain stalked slowly from the kitchen, surveying the sitting room. Civilian was true and wholly gone, as if they hadn’t been there in the first place. Their lips pursed.

Why would they leave? Why risk their health, their life, just to flee and head right back into the very blizzard that’d nearly killed them in the first place? What had them so scared?

Supervillain shook their head. They’d just have to ask when they found them—if they found them again. If they’d already made it outside through the patio doors, Supervillain was hard pressed to follow them out into the harsh snow and fierce mountain gale.

But if they didn’t…It might draw unwanted attention to their base and operations here and Supervillain most certainly didn’t want that.

Cursing under their breath, Supervillain carried on into the hallway. They edged passed closed doors—storage closet, hall bath—silently pushing each one open and peeking inside only to find them as cold and empty as the sitting room. They weakly attempted to ease the glower from their features, but the more they thought of Civilian’s escape attempt, the more agitated they felt.

They should’ve just braved the storm and broken into one of the vacation homes scattered throughout the mountaintop. What were they thinking, letting Right Hand and Medic talk them into allowing Civilian to recover here?

“Not that they’d given me the chance to protest,” Supervillain mumbled, pulling the laundry room door shut behind them.

The only room left now was theirs, and with it, the patio doors leading straight out into a freezing hellscape of snow and sleet and wind.

Slowly creeping down the hall so as not to disturb the floorboards, Supervillain prowled closer and closer to the open door at the end of the hall. The light they’d left on made a small triangle on the hallway floor, but otherwise, everything seemed undisturbed. This was the only place Civilian could be—if they hadn’t made it outside yet.

Taking a silent breath, Supervillain pressed themselves against the wall beside the door. They hadn’t the slightest idea what they were going to do if they found Civilian inside. Something had spooked them, but without knowing what, Supervillain didn’t know how to approach them. It’s not like they could keep them here against their will—Supervillain grimaced.

They could keep them here against their will, but if they did, they risked exposing themselves as the master criminal plaguing the country. Or at least, that would be the risk if Civilian hadn’t already realized who they were, and that was the big problem. Supervillain didn’t know if Civilian knew who they were really were and if that was why they were scared, or if it was something else entirely.

But what?

Civilian Surname was ordinary…unless…

Supervillain’s jaw twitched. It wasn’t unheard of in the caped community, for someone without super-human powers to don a mask and call themselves either a hero or a villain. Maybe that’s why Civilian was so scared: they had a secret identity that they couldn’t risk being exposed.

Supervillain smiled. That certainly made sense given all the facts. Their patrol had found a little hero, for Civilian certainly couldn’t be a villain with their record—or lack thereof.

Shaking their head, Supervillain finally found the courage to peek inside their bedroom.

Civilian didn’t see them, struggling to get the tricky patio door open. Supervillain watched them silently for a moment, stepping into the doorway and leaning against it. After a moment of watching Civilian fiddle with the lock some more, they cleared their throat.

Civilian gasped, jumping at least a foot in the air. Whirling around, Civilian looked like a cornered rabbit, nearly pressing themselves against the frigid glass doors. Supervillain bit back a smile, imagining that they could really see Civilian’s heart beating out of their chest as their mouth opened and closed a few times. Stammering they said, “S-sta-ay a-away f-from me!”

Supervillain held their hands up in a placating gesture. “If you want to leave so badly, you should at least steal a coat and some boots too.”

Civilian’s brow furrowed. “W-what?”

Sighing, Supervillain took a slow step inside the bedroom, pointing vaguely to the bed as they continued on under the ever-fearful gaze of Civilian. Pulling the top blanket from their bed, Supervillain said, “I don’t know why you’re so scared, or why you want to leave in the middle of a blizzard, but if that’s what you want, then go ahead. I’m not gonna stop you, though I can’t promise Medic won’t try.”

They held the soft sherpa blanket out, wiggling it slightly in offering. Civilian stared at them, cradling their arms to their chest. Supervillain wasn’t sure if they were trembling from the cold or from their fear, though they supposed it was possible that it was the result of both.

Slowly, Civilian took the blanket from them and wrapped it around themselves. Weakly glaring at them, Civilian’s shaky voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Why have you been stalking me?”

The Lair in the Woods: @just-a-space-rabbit, @classicplesiosaur, @pigeonwhumps, @kaiwewi

Part 5

#writeblr #heroes and villains #supervillain x civilian #my writing #hero x villain community #The Lair in the Woods #The Lair in the Woods series

[bookwormscififan]

Falling Into the Bite, Chapter 10

Read on AO3!

Previous part

A/N: A short little chapter for you guys today that might just break your heart.

Warnings: Self-deprecation, thoughts of suicide.

--

“Let me go,” Yancy said quietly, closing his eyes and clenching his fist. “Let go of my hand, and let me do this. We both know it’s the only way.”

“The only way to do what?” Illinois scoffed, holding Yancy’s wrist tighter. “How can you be so sure they won’t turn you after you’ve died? You’re giving up your free will if you do this. You’ll make it easier for them to turn you. Yancy,” his voice grew soft, looking at Yancy with pleading eyes. “Don’t let them have the easy path.”

“We live in a castle full of vampires,” Yancy whispered, lip trembling as a tear fell down his cheek. “I offered to help a blind vampire write a novel today. I can feel Murdock’s hands on my body, and I don’t know if I should feel attracted or disgusted by it. You-you were an adventurer, travelling the world to find the best treasures.” His knees buckled, and if Illinois hadn’t moved closer, he would have fallen. “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” Yancy sobbed, collapsing into Illinois’ arms and burying his face in his shirt.

“This, right here? This is real,” Illinois murmured, holding Yancy close as he cried. “My arms around you are real. The night air biting at your cheeks is real. What Murdock’s done to you is also real, but I will spend the rest of my life helping you to separate that experience from the things that make you smile and sing.”

----

Yancy woke feeling warm and safe, a feeling quickly replaced by terror when he noticed the arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close to a body behind him. His voice caught in his throat, and he started to thrash around as tears pricked his eyes, letting out choked sobs of protest when the arms tightened around his waist before releasing him.

“Yancy, breathe,” Illinois’ voice behind him was soothing, reminding him that he was safe in their room, laying in Illinois’ bed, those were the adventurer’s arms around him. He gulped in lungfuls of air, slowly calming down, then turned to look into the adventurer’s concerned eyes. “Are you with me?”

Yancy answered with a small nod, holding his fists up under his chin as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” he said softly, looking at the spot on the bedspread between them. “I just—I’m sorry, youse don’t deserve this.”

“I promised to help, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going to hurt you, Yancy.” He rolled over to get out of the bed, pushing a hand through his hair and pacing the room. “I just need to remember not to hold you while you’re asleep. You need time.”

“Time,” Yancy scoffed, falling backwards onto the bed and staring at the ceiling before looking back at Illinois. “Why were youse in the bed with me anyway?”

“You asked me to,” Illinois replied, wiping his face with a cloth and the basin of water on the dresser. “You wanted me by your side to protect you in case Murdock came back.” He changed out of his sleep shirt into a simple button-down, then turned to look at Yancy. “You may have killed your parents, but you’re still psychologically traumatised from the manipulation Murdock did to you.”

“Youse are too nice to me,” Yancy mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes with a sigh. “Youse should’ve just let me jump from that balcony last night. Put an end to all the problems we’ve got happening.”

“Why?”

“Because it would have been better. Because I should never have come to explore this castle with youse. Because every time I close my eyes I can still see Murdock’s staring at me through the darkness, hungry and wanting, and I can’t stop myself from wanting to see those same eyes in the daytime.”

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch

#writing #fanfiction #markiplier fanfiction #vampire au #angst #i got my angst skills back baby

[ophelia-jones]

Negan was having a bad day. He would much rather be at the tables playing a hand of five-card stud with Kate, but instead, he had to deal with the shitstorm the god-damned Dixons had started. He should have shut that shit down after they robbed the first stagecoach. Or at least when they did it in his fucking county. Make no mistake about it, this was HIS county.

Rick the prick and his little shadow Shane might like to think they were the ones who kept order in this little corner of heaven but it was 100% Negan. No one did anything without him knowing about it, and reacting accordingly. Punishment was, as it should be, swift and brutal.

Now here they were, Shane and the ginger giant of a US Marshall. Poking their noses into Negan's business, and asking too many fucking questions.

They stood outside his house, and no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't seem to get it through to the Marshall that he wasn't scared of his fucking tin star. The feds could fuck right off - the territories were as far separated from the Eastern states as the US was from England these days.

He heard a horse approaching from around the other side of the house, and the feeling in his gut told him shit was about to go fucking sideways. He wasn't wrong.

It was hard to say who was more shocked when Daryl and Willow rounded the corner on that big black stallion and saw the Marshall. For a moment, Negan thought they would run, and if Daryl had been alone on the horse he probably would have. There was no outrunning the lawmen on their fresh horses with his horse worn out from carrying the two of them for the last two days with barely a break. Besides, the risk to Willow was too high for his conscience.

Negan sighed and rubbed his eyes. If the Dixon brothers weren't so god-damned hard to scare, he'd have no use for them at all. Daryl in particular was a thorn in his side. The only power Negan had ever held over him was his loyalty to Merle.

"Daryl, you have the worst fucking timing of any fucking fucker I have ever fucking known," Negan told him as Abraham drew his pistol and ordered the two of them to dismount and put their hands up.

They were doing as he said, and Abraham never knew what hit him as Negan drew Lucille and put a bullet in his temple. The giant of a man stumbled sideways three feet before falling to his knees.

"Damn! Look at you! I am impressed, I have to fucking admit," Negan said as he slowly approached the man, taking his pistol from him. His fingers could no longer grip it to pull the trigger anyway.

"How are you still breathing? Wow!" Negan exclaimed, bending at the knees and leaning way back to grin down at the wounded man.

"I mean WOW! You are one stubborn son of a bitch, aren't you?" he walked around the dying man in a circle and looked up at the others, sharing his amusement with them.

Daryl and Shane each stared at him with little to no reaction to the situation. They knew Negan well enough to guard their emotions. Negan's power over people came from manipulating their feelings almost as much as it came from his political and financial power.

Willow's hands were over her mouth, tears in her eyes. Negan grinned at her.

"Bring back some memories?" he asked, wrinkling his nose happily at her. It was almost in the exact spot where he had shot her father eight years ago, the day he had come to take ownership of this ranch. He approached the woman, leaning dramatically to one side so he could stay at eye level with her.

"Seems like every time you get involved in my business, someone ends up fucking dead!" he declared, still grinning. "Maybe you should learn to stop resisting and let me help you. You know, I've made you two VERY generous offers. I'm not likely to make many more," he told her, reaching out to gently stroke Willows's soft cheek. He pushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear as she glared at him through her tears.

"Leave her alone!" Daryl snarled, taking a step toward Negan, who didn't turn away from her but pointed at Daryl threateningly.

"Stop right fucking there if you don't want anyone else to die here today," Negan snarled back. He was not afraid of Daryl - though he was impressed with how hard it was to scare the man. His only weakness was his concern for other people.

Daryl stopped and glowered at him. He looked like a wolf ready to strike.

Willow's chest ached and her stomach twisted at the memory of that day. Her father had challenged Negan to a duel after Negan had come to evict them from their home - which her father had lost to Negan in a card game the week before. He had tried to reason with the man, but the more he had argued the more cruelty Negan had gotten. When Negan had offered to keep Willow here as his whore her father had been unable to let it go.

"You could've just stayed here, slept in your own bed all these years. You wouldn't have lost a god-damned thing! I am a stand-up guy, when I promise to take care of a woman, I do it!" Negan told her now. Willow trembled with rage and fear as he smiled down at her, still touching her hair and staring at her intently.

"Hell, I even made you a SECOND offer! And you chose to deny it for THAT!" Negan reminded her, pointing to Daryl. Negan shook his head in disappointment. "Some people just do not know what's good for them," he concluded.

"What the monkey-fuck…?" Abraham managed to form a few sensible words, and everyone turned to look at him, his face covered in his blood. He was trying to stand now, despite the bullet in his brain.

"Holy SHIT! Look at YOU!" Negan laughed. "I'm almost sorry to do this!" he said before lifting Lucille and shooting the man again. Willow flinched and cried out, closing her eyes.

"How the fuck am I supposed to explain this?" Shane asked, running his hands over his face anxiously and beginning to pace. Shane owed Negan more money than Merle Dixon ever had, but Negan liked having him under his thumb. It was better than wearing a badge himself; he had control of Shane like a puppet and no one was the wiser.

"You came across the outlaws by surprise and got in a fucking shootout. Maybe I should shoot you in the fucking leg to make it more fucking believable," Negan replied, aiming Lucille in Shane's direction now.

"Wait, wait, man what the hell do you think will happen if every god damned lawman in the county gets fucking shot?" Shane exclaimed. Negan lifted Lucille to the sky as he seemed to carefully consider Shane's argument, his expressive face almost comical.

"Fair point. Simon, count that money for me while I beat the ever-loving shit out of Shane." Negan ordered his second in command as he picked up a shotgun by its barrel and wielded it like a club.

Rick sat outside the jail, his arm in a sling to keep the bullet wound from reopening. The posse he had managed to round up had been unsuccessful in locating the fugitives, and it was now Friday night. The odds of the locals getting shit-faced and deciding to take justice into their own hands were getting higher by the second. The last thing he needed was a lynch mob in his hands.

"Any word from Abraham and Shane?" Jess asked, stepping out of the jailhouse to join Rick. She couldn't handle listening to Merle berate her any longer. The man was so full of hate and anger it spewed out of him like water from a fire hose.

"No," Rick replied with a shake of his head. It didn't take much to recognize the fact that this man was bearing a heavy burden, it was written all over his face. It was declared in the tension in his shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw and his one good fist. His blue eyes were like stormy skies.

"How about volunteer deputies?" She asked, knowing full well that they'd had no one show up to help in the search party.

"Jerry will be here soon," Rick sighed. Jerry was an affable, good-humored man with one hell of a good heart but he doubted his ability in the sort of scenario he was preparing for.

He turned to look at Jess. He had been surprised when he arrived at the jail earlier that day - she was a transformed woman from the one he had been introduced to the day of the bank robbery. She'd ditched the traveling dress which had covered her from chin to ankle and which restricted her movement. Now she donned a pair of riding pants, high boots, a white linen shirt, and a black duster jacket. She still stuck out because of the high quality and new condition of her clothing but at least now she could move freely and ride a horse. It was a start.

She still kept her brown hair pinned up tightly and she wore only one pistol on her hip. She was a handsome woman, whose upper-class status was written all over. It was in her eyes beneath the long, thick lashes and the way she looked down her nose at everyone. It was in her bearing and the way she spoke.

She may as well have painted a giant red target on her forehead; everything she represented was the things the men who had come west were trying to get away from. Society, wealth disparity, upper-class righteousness. He worried that she would not last a week in this place.

As he studied her profile, he saw her eyebrows draw together, then she shaded her eyes with one hand.

"I think that's them. Or their horses, at least," she said with a concerned frown. Rick followed her gaze to see Abrahams horse, apparently empty, tied to Shanes. Shane was slumped in his saddle, and Rick's heart began to pound. He wanted to ride out to them, but his horse was in the stable, and he couldn't mount up with one arm anyway.

As they drew closer, every eye in the street turned to stare, and Rick's sense of dread grew by the second. Abraham's body was draped over his horse's back, his blood staining the animals coat. Shane's face was a bloody, swollen mess.

When he reached the jail, he dismounted weakly. He looked half dead, his arm wrapped around his bruised ribs and his face a mask of pain.

"Shane, what happened, brother?" Rick asked, wrapping his good arm around his oldest friend and supporting him as Shane had done for Rick just days ago.

"We were on our way out to Negan's to ask him those questions Abraham had, and we came across a campsite. We were taking a look for tracks and they got the jump on us, Rick. They got the jump on us…" he replied weakly. Rick helped Shane to the chair at the desk and looked him over.

"Why didn't they shoot you?" Jess asked, looking down at Shane where he sat. They were all doing their best to ignore Merle's laughter at the sight of the bloodied deputy.

"What?" Shane asked, gawking up at her as if she had just asked him the meaning of life or some other unanswerable question.

"Abraham has been shot in the head, no sign I can see that he's been beaten. Why did they shoot him and not you?" she asked coolly. Shane stared up at her, his mouth agape as if offended beyond words.

"He was mounted when they shot him," he finally said, "I was on foot. I took cover and they wasted a lot of ammo - I finally got close enough to take one of their guns. The second one ran and I tried to take the other into custody but …" Shane lifted his arms and looked down at himself by way of explanation. "He got away."

"Where's his gun?" Jess pressed.

"What?"

"If you disarmed him, where's his firearm, I'd like to see it," she told him with a shrug that clearly said she considered this a perfectly reasonable request.

"He picked it back up when he fled," Shane replied dryly.

"But he didn't use it to finish you off?" she asked, one slender brown brow arched over her hazel eyes.

"He was out of ammo, like I said," Shane replied crossly. "What the hell is this? I get attacked by them and now I get attacked again by you?"

"Calm down now, brother. She's just trying to understand what happened," Rick told Shane before frowning up at Jess. "It's not the right time for questions." he told her firmly.

"It's always best to ask right after an incident," Jess argued. "When it is fresh, before the memory gets corrupted. Before there's time to imagine details."

"You calling me a liar?" Shane asked, standing and stalking toward Jess, stopping inches from her and glaring down into her eyes.

"I didn't say that," Jess replied evenly, no sign of fear in her voice. She'd never even taken a step backwards as the far bigger man had advanced upon her so threateningly. She never so much as batted an eye.

"It's good to see you regaining your strength," she said. She didn't have to phrase the words as an accusation that he'd been exaggerating his injuries, her tone did that well enough.

Shane's lips pursed into a thin line and his jaw tightened as he glared at her. Rick stepped in between them

"Hey, let's just take a step back here. Shane, have a seat. Jess, why don't you go get the undertaker, and see if you can find Isadora to help Shane tend to his injuries." It wasn't a request, it was an order and each of them did as they were told.

#negan fanfiction #negan #shane walsh #the walking dead fanfiction

[nepofm]

spotted      at      met      steps     , wearing      last      season’s      jimmy      choo      ?      i’d      leave      the      steps      in      the      next     24      hours   before      nepoupdates      catches      them      &      if      it      were      me     ,     i’d      definitely      go      back      to      the     checklist    of      golden      rules     .

ivana  'ivy' larosa  anya taylor joy , muse 2j

jin-hee 'jenny' jeong  jeon so-yeon ,  josette seong’s costar wc

henrietta “henri” hart  hailee steinfeld  , muse w

anya taylor joy.     she/her.     female.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   ivana  'ivy' larosa  ,   most   likely   listening   to  a pill to crush by  evalyn  with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty-three year old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -manipulative   yet   +driven   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   smoke after a candle is blown out, snow melting into ice, dimmed flashing lights, and the faint thumping of bass    ,   followed   by   chanel sycomore .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about  her latest  stint  in  a psychiatric hospital after letting her IED (intermittent explosive disorder) get the better of her once again.    ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .  

hailee steinfeld.     she/her.     cis female.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,    henrietta   “henri”   hart   ,   most   likely   listening   to   anti-hero   by   taylor   swift   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   five   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -headstrong   yet   +creative   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   lipstick   stains   on   a   mirror,   sunlight   beaming   through   the   curtains   in   the   early   morning,   perfected   fake   smiles   &   fingers   stacked   with   golden   rings   ,   followed   by   rose   prick   by   tom   ford   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   henri   has   been  spotted   once   again   after   years    leaving    a    rehabilitation   facility   on   the   outskirts    of    the   city   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .  

jeon so-yeon.     she/her.     cis woman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   jin-hee 'jenny' jeong   ,   most   likely   listening   to   candles on fire! by quadeca   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty-five year old  gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -judgmental   yet   +outspoken   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   bold makeup to match an intimidating appearance, waking up in a stranger’s bed after forgetful nights, red roses that wither away from lack of care, & a soft interior masked by a hard shell   ,   followed   by   tom ford black orchid   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   grammy winning rapper and actress has been in a number of physical altercations that are being covered up by her wealthy family and agency   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .  

#accepted.

[checkitoutmikey]

David headcannon:

I’m a firm believer that David didn’t have enough time in the movie to show us what his character is really like and therefore there’s a lot of things we can headcanon about him and it might not be too far from the truth

does that sentence even make sense? my god english whyyyy

warning: nfsw

- David is most versitile of all the boys… to a degree.

- He’s always the dominant one because.. of course.

- But what is most important – he’s a provider.

- He has the inate ability to sense what you want and need.

- Are you in need of a strict regime? David will come up with a set of rules that can range from what you are going to do this week to what you are wearing today or even at what time you brush your teeth. There’s a reward and punishment system that caters to your needs. Are you more into physical pain like spanking or is it more along the lines of „no TV for you, brat“? David just knows what you would like, even if you don’t know it yourself at the time but I promise you this vampire boy will take good care of you.

- Or maybe you are in for the fluff? David can do that too! He will take you to all the fun rides, win you all the plushies you want and stuff your mouth with enough candy to last you life time. If he feels like he needs to reclaim his bad boy title he will steal you some jewelry just to make a point that he’s still the baddie here so don’t ever try to coo at him ever again. Now shut up and let him take you to the Dipper, that will wipe the smile off of your face. That’s the standart night with him.

- But he can be a little more romantic then that. Sometimes he will take you to the cliffside. The two of you will just sit on the edge and look at the sea. He will scoop you up on his lap and wrap you in his coat to make sure you are not cold. He would pet your hair or gently rub your shoulder in an attempt to warm you up while pointing out different stars and constellations and telling you stories about them. He seem to have a soft spot for Andromeda.

- Or maybe you are just not so hot on the idea of dating him and/or his boys? That’s ok. You can be just friends. For now.

- Oh, come on… like you would stand a chance. If he wants you, there’s nothing you can do about it. In his mind it’s only a matter of time before you become his. He has all the time in the world and he can be patient. So if you want to be friends, he will be just that.

- Friends with benefits? Sure, whatever you like.

- He’s not a jealous person. If you decide to fuck him and half the Boardwalk he would be ok with that. Go ahead and have your fun (but be careful, ok?). The only time he comes between you and someone is when said someone is making you feel uncomfortable. A random surf nazi thinks he can hit you? Don’t think so. Some collage champ being a little too grabby? They are dead meat. No ifs or buts.

- If you do decide go with someone else, David or one of his boys will tail you to make sure you are ok.

- He will wait for you to come to him.

- HOWEVER that being said, you WILL turn. He may give you few months, a year or two max, but that’s that. He will not risk your safety or the chance someone will lure you away from him. You are becoming one of them and that’s the one and only thing he will push. Given a reason he will force you into becoming a vampire.

- Was there an accident? Is your life being threatened? Are you dying? He won’t even ask, he’ll just force his blood down your throat.

- Maybe you found out what the boys are before you were ready and freaked out? Well, now his hand is forced. He will let you calm down but there’s no way you are leaving his side. He may just chain you to a bed in the cave and depending on how you react. He would want to wait a bit longer to ‘ease’ you into it. That means he and his boys will entertain you and show you they pose no danger to one of their own – and you ARE one of them, human or not. They will explain everything, answer your every question. Given the situation, they won’t initiate any physical contact unless you are comfortable with it. Even Paul is keeping himself in check. Sitting on the ground, his chin resting on the edge of your bed as he’s giving you puppy eyes.

- To be honest, you wanting to change is the ideal here. Once you are basically part of the gang David will take you aside and make you an offer. He does this only when he knows you will accept though. If he feels like the time is running out and his imaginary deadline is getting close he will trick into drinking from the bottle.

- Once you are a vampire, David will make sure you under constant watch. Either he or one of his boys are always with you. He’s protective. And you are basically a vampire baby. Not that he doesn’t trust you – you have better self-control then Paul – he just feels you need a guiding hand, that’s all.

- Once you are safe to let loose and go among humans once again? Oh it’s on baby. You finally get the whole “sleep all day, party all night, it’s fun to be a vampire” bit because the boys are WILD. They get to drag you into some really dangerous stuff now that you are basically indestructible.

- You get your own bike. Oh, you had one before? Too bad. Now you are in a BIKER gang, with BAD boys, part of the BIG league. You get the best, most badass looking bike money can buy and Marko took it as his personal mission to make look dope. Expect some pretty nice paint job too.

- Now that you have your own proper vehicle from hell expect it to be part right between David and Dwayne. That’s your designated parking spot, no exceptions allowed.

- Now to the wink wink stuff <3

- David is a dom. But a very versatile wholesome dom so everything you two do will be entirely in your comfort zone. That being said David has a few kinks and scenarios he likes to bring into your bed. One of them is sex pile… hear me out.

- Even if it’s just you and David, he would really love to bring his boys into your love life. His biggest turn on is sitting back and ordering the boys around. His little private smut puppet show. He would get off on using his boys as a sex toys on you. You would most probably be laying on Dwayne’s chest while the others would literally torture you for hours. Dwayne is pro at holding you down and stopping you from squirming.  

- David – surprisingly enough – isn’t into pain so he will order the twin terror to torture with overstimulation. Gentle kisses, light touching. He wants you desperate. Just moan and beg for him to do something. Anything. Please.

- He likes to edge himself like this. He gets off on seeing you like this. Sometimes he’s in one of his moods and in that case it’s just four nights long marathon where you are not allowed to come for hours and then you keep coming every five minutes and it’s just too much and the boys are having way too much fun and tease you about it with glee. And all this time David doesn’t come once. He’s saving it for the grand finale when he’s finally going to give in to your pleas and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.  

- When it’s the two of you he’s pretty much like that too. He likes to give a very specific instructions on how you should touch yourself. Come on, kitten, give him a show.

- He’s a tease. David will spend hours between your legs but let you come once. He’s just like that. Fucking tease.

- Hickies. Just… so much hickies. On your thighs, chest, neck… even your ass cheeks aren’t safe from this man.

- He’s not big into public sex. Sure he will tease you and whisper pure filth in your ear but that’s about it. He’s more likely to order one of his boys to take care of you. Maybe watch you… to make sure you are properly taken care of.

- He likes the comfort of your bed or your nest in the cave. Safe space. Only than he can fully relax and enjoy.

- King *clap* of *clap* aftercare. David makes sure you are alright at the end of each session. There’s no way will let you out of his sight unless he’s absolutely certain you are physically, emotionally AND sexually taken care of. He always has some water and warm blanket on hand in case you need it. David can be a little obsessive when it comes to cleaning you. He uses warm water and washcloth but given the chance he will just scoop you up and give you a nice long bath. Protest all you want. It doesn’t matter you are tired, you can just fall asleep in his arms while he cleans your body, right?

- If you are still human and having sex with David (and/or the others) he will make sure you are not injured. This boy even has a stockpile of salves and creams for you (and antiseptics… and bandages… pain pills…). Look this man thrives on care giving ok? Just let him take care of you ffs!!!

- Anyway, to be dating David is to be dating your ideal boyfriend because he does everything to keep you safe and happy <3 

#honestly i think david have a potential to be so ... much #hardass d!dom.. #fun guy with heart of gold #manipulative prick with a soft spot #so many option with my boi david #TLB #The Lost Boys #The Lost Boys David #Enaris brain goes brrrrrr #The Lost Boys imagine #the lost boys david imagine #The Lost Boys x reader

[talatomaz]

angel | natasha romanoff x fem!reader

KINKTOBER DAY: 2

a/n: this kinda got dark at the end oop

kinks/trope: innocence kink

(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)

warnings: stepmom!nat (yes, that’s a warning). smut - dark nat, dubcon, manipulation, masturbation, mommy kink, legal age gap (r is 18+), innocence kink, petnames and fingering (r receiving)

masterlist | navigation | request rules | kinktober

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

Closing the fridge door shut, you downed the glass of water you’d poured a few moments earlier. You set the now empty glass on the counter top and wiped the droplets that had spilled over from your lips.

After rinsing the glass, you made your way back upstairs to your room. You were incredibly restless tonight and you weren’t sure. Well, that was a lie, you knew why.

Although it was sinful to admit and you cursed yourself for your inappropriate thoughts, you had a crush on your step mom, Natasha. You’d lost your father a few years ago and, since then, Natasha practically refused to leave your side.

Suffice it to say, you relished the attention but, you found that the more time you spent with her, the more infatuated you became. Especially when she would innocently touch your shoulder or caress your arm or thigh. Her actions were normal, right? But each and every time her soft hands were on you, you felt a strong pulsing between your legs that made you clench your thighs.

Of course, you didn’t know that Natasha was aware of just how much she affected you.

You walked upstairs, taking care not to wake your step mom, when you heard strange noises come from her room. Intrigued by the sounds, you inched closer to her door, noticing that it was cracked open. Peering inside, your mouth went dry at the sight before you.

Natasha was naked from the waist down, her body only covered with a bra. Her duvet was flung to the side and her legs were spread, a hand in between them, as her fingers pushed in and out of her pussy.

Your ears pricked at the sounds she was making but heated when you realised how wrong it was for you to be standing there even though you’d stumbled upon her accidentally. Just as you turned to walk away, a name fell from Natasha’s lips. Your name. Eyes widening, you froze in your spot, unsure of how to react.

“I know you’re out there, detka. Come inside and join Mommy.”

Your eyes grew even wider as you pushed the door open, revealing yourself to her. You approached her when she patted the empty space next to her on the bed.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-I’ve never even.”

You quietened when she placed a finger over your lips.

“It’s okay, baby. I just had to show you that I wanted you. And I know you want me. Come on, dove. Show Mommy how you touch yourself.”

“I-I don’t-“ You stumbled over your words. This was the first time you’d seen another person touch themselves let alone touching yourself.

“Has my angel never touched her sweet little pussy before?”

“No, Mommy.” You whispered, your cheeks heating in embarrassment.

“Of course you haven’t, sweetie. You’re a good little dove who’s been saving herself for her Mommy.”

Natasha cooed as she moved to hover over you, her hand dipping into your shorts.

“Am I the first person to touch you here?” She asked, slowly dragging her fingers through your folds causing a soft moan to rise through your throat.

You nodded, “Yes, Mommy. B-But, is it alright that we do this? You’re my step mom and used to be with my dad.”

Natasha leaned down to plant a deep but gentle kiss on your lips. At the same time, she pushed a finger into your tight core and groaned at how hot your walls felt around her.

“Mommy.” You whined, arching your back.

The feeling was odd and slightly painful but, as she pumped her finger in and out of you, you felt a heat growing in your stomach.

“Yes, dove. It’s okay. I’ve wanted you ever since I laid my eyes on you and Mommy’s been so lonely ever since I got your father out of the way. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

#talatomaz’s kinktober 👻 #s: 2k celebration #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #natasha #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #c: mommy!nat #c: stepmom!nat #c: angel #s: mine