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bvbygrl-writes · 5 months

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Wrong House

Pairing: Stu Macher x Nerdy!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: A step into wrong house leads to a night of the right fun.

A/N: I was not supposed to upload this tonight but I'm too excited about it. I'm not proof reading this long ass shit either so if something is spelled wrong use your imagination to fix it, mwuah! <3

Warnings: reader has afab anatomy breaking and entering, knife play, homoerotic themes (they kiss but nothing more than that), mentions of murder, eiffel towering, loss of virginity, coercion and ultimatums, rope bandage, panty kink, and panty sniffing.

THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE.

(Y/n) was naturally an anxious girl but, with her parents out of town and the string of murders happening, she was on edge. She had every single light on in the house, the downstairs tv on, anything to make it seem as though the house was full of life. The reporters on the radio had told people to stay together and while most of the students in school had that option, she didn’t. Nobody wanted to be friends with the quiet girl who still wore Care Bear sweaters and could recite Star Trek lines from memory.

Nibbling the end of her pencil, she let out an exasperated sigh. She had been staring at the same math problem in her textbook for a good 45 minutes. “Focus, (Y/n/n), focus. If you do end up living through all of this, you’ll want to get into a good college.If you fail, mom and dad will make you wish you were dead.” she said out loud to herself, a sad laugh falling from her lips. At that same moment, her stomach began to grumble. When was the last time she ate? Reaching for the phone, she dialed the number to her favorite chinese food place. She loved it because the food was cheap and they were one of the only places that delivered something other than pizza after 10PM.

“Alright, thank you!” she said, placing the phone back on the receiver. It’d be about a 20 minute wait, giving her time to focus more on her work. Sighing she sat back down in front of her textbook, staring at the page until the numbers started to blur together. “Well, that’s enough of that! I should get the money for the delivery driver seeing as it’ll be here in…” glancing at the clock on her wall she sighed, “Twenty minutes.” ignoring that face, she stood up, bunny slippers stomping over the carpeted floor to the piggy bank on her dresser. She pulled out a 10 dollar bill along with a 5 for the tip. But before (Y/n) could even get to her door, she heard a noise at the front door.

“Th-that’s weird. There’s still nineteen minutes an-” she shrieked at the sound of the door bursting open. Every anxiety filled thought she had had since being home by herself was coming true. The blood drained from her face, her body growing light at the sound of the voices coming from the living room. Tears began to form in the corner of her eyes as she turned off the lights and closed her bedroom door. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs put in perspective just how real this all was. She silently cursed her dad for never fixing the damn lock on her window. She might’ve broken a few bones from jumping, but that’d be better than being completely dead! Looking around her room she made the decision to jump in her closet, closing the accordion door.

She became aware of how loudly she was breathing, clamping her hands over her mouth. Her body trembled with terror. ‘Is this how I die? Alone, never experiencing friendship or love?’ Was this really the time to be feeling sorry for her lack of social and love life? ‘Well to be fair, this may be one of the last times I’m able to feel anything whatsoever.’ The sound of her bedroom door opening instantly made her mind go blank. The girl felt as though she was having a heart attack and honestly? She would have preferred that to whatever death she was about to experience.

“Are you sure this is the right house? This doesn’t look like Chelsea’s room.” A male’s voice remarked, the lights flicking on. She could see through the small slots on the folding door that there were two men. One had dark hair and a knife in his hand. The other one was taller with blonde hair and a backpack with god knows what inside of it.

“Yeah, dude! This is 345 Avalee Lane.” the other one exclaimed, an almost sinister grin on his face. The dark hair one made a sound that was a mix of a growl and a sigh.

“You fucking idiot! Chelsea lives in 348, we’re in the wrong house!” he pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking over the little trash can near her desk across the room. (Y/n) relaxed a bit. Maybe since they weren’t looking for her they’d just leave?

“Well at least no one’s home, we can just get out of here.” The blonde one rasped out, eating a piece of candy off of her dresser before tossing the wrapper on the ground. ‘Rude’ she thought.

“The lights and the tv were on. Someone’s definitely in this house. I’m going to go check the other rooms and you look around this one a bit better. We can’t take any chances.” The brunette exited the room and in the distance he heard the sound of different doors being opened.

The blonde one began to hum, snooping around her room. He walked over to her dresser, opening up her panty drawer. A smile grew on his face as he held up a pair of white ones with a pink lace trim, shoving them in the back pocket of his baggy jeans. “Cute.” he said to himself (or so he thought). Walking over to her bed, he tossed the covers back before bending down to check under the bed as well. Next, he walked over to the cupboard of her collectable figurines, opening up the door. “Hm.” he shrugged before beginning to exit the room. She removed her hands from her mouth, placing them on the floor beside her as she let her body relax. However, before he could leave, she could see a lightbulb go off in his brain as he turned around walking towards the closet. The girl’s eyes went wide as she shook her head. As he opened the closet door, she couldn’t even manage to make a sound. A look of surprise made its way onto his face before he began to grin. “You’ve got cute little undies. Hey Billy!”

All (Y/n) could do was sit there in shock. She recognized this boy, he was in her art classes although he rarely showed up. Now that she could really see his face, he was quite attractive. Before she could delve into why she was letting herself think that, the other one (who she assumed was Billy) appeared right next to him. Although he had a scowl on his face, he was just as attractive. ‘Well, you always said you wanted a cute guy to notice you. There’s two! But you should’ve been more specific, huh (Y/n/n)?’

“She’s kind of cute in a dorky little way, ain’t she?” Stu commented as Billy used his knife to lift her chin. She didn’t dare stop making eye contact with Billy for fear of what he might do with that knife the second she did. He tilted her face around, examining it from all sorts of angles before he chuckled.

“She is. (Y/n), right? You’re the girl that’s always winning those sciences awards at school. We have AP English together.” he said in a calm tone. This was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. Why were they dragging this on so much when they could just kill her and get it over with?

“M-mmm-mhm!” she stuttered out, nodding her head ever so slightly so she didn’t cut herself on the blade.

“Although I agree with my friend here, you still find yourself to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. See, I’ve got a plan and if I let you live, there’s a big chance you’re going to blab and ruin it for me.” he said, his words coming out through gritted teeth towards the end. “So unfortunately, your time’s up.”

“No, no please! I-I-I won’t blab and tell! I don’t have any friends or anyone to tell I won’t tell please! I promise!” she sobbed, begging for her life as he pressed the knife against her neck harder. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, which would also explain the sensation happening between her legs. Fat tears continued to stream down her face. “I promise please there’s gotta be a way!” she continued to plead for her life, waiting for something, just anything to happen. Whatever it’d take for this situation to be over. However, she was surprised when the knife suddenly was no longer pressed to her neck. Looking up, she saw the blonde one’s hand had moved it away and he was whispering something into Billy’s ear. Their eyes kept flickering to parts of the room and then back to her before Billy gave a singular nod.

“It seems my friend Stu here has taken quite a liking to you so here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a bit of fun with you and if we enjoy it, you live and we’ll be back to get you after we finish some…business. And if not, I’ll slit your throat right after we finish. Does that sound fair?” Billy said, tugging her from her sitting position to be in between the both of them. She nodded frantically, happy to have even a small chance of living. She knew they were probably going to kill her when they were done, but at least that moment was suspended for a bit longer.

“Wh-what do I need t-to do?” she asked, her heart racing as she looked up at the two of them. They were completely dwarfing her with their size, it was like being trapped between two incredibly hot trees. Stu grinned at her once again before stepping back a bit.

“Well you can start by stripping!” he instructed, phrasing it like a suggestion even though she knew it wasn’t. She nodded, taking off her cream colored sweater, sliding her Power Rangers pajama pants down right after. She began to hesitate slightly as now she was just in her slippers and underwear.

“Allow me.” Billy said, using his knife to snip off her bra. He started at the shoulder straps, taking a moment to stare at her breast before tearing the backband as well. She didn’t try to cover up, knowing her chances of survival would dwindle to none. He went to pull down her panties but Stu stopped him, shaking his head.

“Leave those on her.” he said, before getting down on his knees in front of her. Billy held her arms behind her back with one of his, peeking over the girl’s shoulders to see what his moronic friend had planned. What she didn’t expect was for him to bury his face into her underwear-clad pussy and sniff. Stu let out a low moan as he did, eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continued to sniff at her front, his nose nudging her clit through the fabric. “God that’s amazing. Looks like she’s enjoying it too.” he said, rubbing his finger on the wet spot forming on her panties. He gently pressed his fingers against the fabric causing (Y/n) to squirm a bit, a gentle moan falling from her mouth.

“Oh, that’s such a pretty noise.” Billy purrs lowly in her ear. Standing from the floor, Stu lifts his fingers up to Billy’s mouth and without thinking, he opens it. The girl watches in awe, her clit beginning to throb at the way the two men were interacting with one another. Stu slowly pulls his fingers from the man’s mouth, biting his lip as the other man licks his. “Did you want a taste?” he asks in a deep tone. At the same time, they both lean over and begin to share a passionate and heated open mouth kiss. Little moans and grunts fall from them, a gasp falling from her own lips as Stu grips at her waist, beginning to grind against her front, his bulge slotted between her slit. Billy mimics his actions, grinding his cock against her ass. She was glad the two were holding her up, because at the current moment she wasn’t sure if her legs would work. This was a whole new world for her. She had never been kissed or even touched by one man let alone two. The noises falling from her mouth were completely out of her control, the sensation of their rhythmic rubbing along with the scene of them kissing above her was all too much for her to handle.

As though they could hear her thoughts, they pulled away from their kiss, turning their attention back to her. She hadn’t even realized that the knife was completely gone now. If she wanted to, she could’ve ran and gotten away. If she wanted to. Billy gripped her arms once more, beginning to walk her over to the bed. She felt her face grow warm at the collection of stuffed animals, causing her to look at the ground. “They keep me warm at night.” she defended weakly. Stu laughed, cooing at her before picking one up and turning it to face the wall, repeating the action several times with the other one.

Billy groaned, annoyed. “Seriously?”

“What? I know how the girls get about that sort of thing.” As Stu continued with his antics, the brunette reached for his friend’s bag. (Y/n) eyed him curiously, thinking he had changed his mind on their deal but was relieved when all he pulled out was a bit of rope. Wait, rope? He tossed it up and down smirking at her before positioning himself behind her as he began to tie her hands together. ‘This is better than whatever they usually probably use this for.’ She tugged at the rope, the friction causing a mild irritation from the action. He pushed her a bit, causing her to fall forward onto the bed. Her ass was in the air while the upper part of her body fell down due to having no support. She listened to the sound of belts and pants clambering before feeling the bed dip down behind her. At that same time, a pair of legs kneeled in front of her as well. She felt as a hand carded it’s way through her hair before tightening, lifting her face to be eye level with a cock. Peering up, she saw that it was Billy.

“Are you gonna open up or am I going to have to do it for you?” he asked, causing a bit of panic to flash through the girl’s (e/c) eyes.

“S-sorry. I’ve never done any of this before.” she muttered, causing a whistle from behind her. She could imagine the grin on Stu's face.

“A cute virgin?! How lucky are we tonight? Oh this is going to be fun. I haven’t popped a cherry in quite a long time.” Stu gushed, rubbing his hands together. “I can barely contain myself!” her panties were then pulled to the side, long fingers beginning to rub all along her slick covered folds. She let out a whimper, her knees trembling as he began to rub circles on her clit. As he slid a finger in, her mouth fell open which Billy saw as the perfect opportunity. Gripping her hair a bit tighter, he began to slide his cock into her mouth slowly. He stared down at her face, watching as her mouth began to struggle with the girth of him, tears falling down her face.

“You better stop with all those tears, I really don’t wanna cum this early.” Billy teased, beginning to rock his hips back and forth. He hissed in pleasure at her tight and warm little mouth, tossing his head back as he let out a guttural moan. Behind her, Stu had managed to work the third finger in, stretching and scissoring them around.Gripping her hip with one hand, he used his other to glide his cock along her lips causing them to both moan. “Hurry up, I wanna pick up the pace but I’m trying to make it easier for you.”

“I’m going!” and with that, Stu slid his cock in with one swift motion. His grip on her hips tightened at the same time her walls did as he fell forward for a bit, head resting against the small of her back. “G-god, oh fuck! You’ve got a tight little pussy, huh?” he said through gritted teeth, beginning to pound into her at an almost animalistic pace. Her pussy drooled around his cock as she continued to moan around Billy, choking as he also picked up his pace. Their thrust were alternating. As Stu would pull his cock out some, Billy’s would enter her throat deep, barely giving her a chance to get used to anything. She had already came around his cock twice, the feeling being overwhelmingly pleasurable.

They were using her like a doll, holding her up and angling her just right. All she could do was sob and take it, the only thing on her mind was their cocks and her life. She didn’t even care if she was going to die after this, this was the best thing she had ever experienced in her life.

“You look so helpless when you cry. God, Stu I wish you could see her right now.” Billy moaned out, staring down into those wet (e/c) eyes. Picking up his pace, he gripped at her scalp, full on skull fucking her now. His thrust had grown sloppy and so had his counterpart’s.

“Tr-trust me, my view is just as good. I’m cl-close!” he whined out, reaching a finger down to rub at the girl's sensitive and swollen clit. (Y/n) screamed around Billy’s cock sending him over the edge. Pulling out, he coated her face and hair in a load of sticky white cum. Watching Billy stroke his cock over her face pushed Stu over the edge as well, causing him to bounce her back on his dick, whimpering as he came deep inside of her.

The room fell silent and as (Y/n) came to her senses, the question of the hour came back to haunt her. Was she going to live?

“Are you satisfied, Stu?”

“More than, man.”

“Well..” Billy trailed off, stepping off of the bed. As Stu pulled out, she felt cold and exposed. Both men stood behind her, staring as the load of cum began to roll down the back of her legs. The brunette reached forward, grabbing her wrist rather roughly before untying her. “I guess you live. We’ll be back. In the meantime, get cleaned up.” the sound of the doorbell ringing caused the two men to look out the window, thinking she had somehow managed to get in contact with help. However, they both relaxed at the sight of the delivery truck on the outside of the house.

“Make sure you save me some chow mein!” Stu said. The girl rolled over on her back, letting out a breathless laugh watching as the two quickly got dressed. Before they headed for the bedroom door, Stu took her panties off of her, sticking them in the front pocket of his jeans.

“For good luck!”

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tinybrooms · 2 months

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Our Last Day, or maybe the first?.. - Thomas Hewitt x fem. Reader

Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever

Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary

NOTE: This is my second one shot and it's pretty long, maybe i am thinking about a second part so let me know if you want that, hope you like it, comments and feed back is always welcome.

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A few months had passed since your work at the slaughterhouse had started, you were one of the few people who had been able to access education and that had given you the opportunity to work as the supervisor's secretary.

Your days were longer than normal dealing with the male staff who looked at your body with desire and said rude comments every time you passed beside them, as did your boss who took the opportunity a couple of times to touch your ass "by accident'' and called you to his office for useless tasks that ended with indecent comments.

They were all idiots, all except Thomas, he just dedicated himself to his work and every time you said "good morning" he responded with a slight grunt while bowing his head a little, always a gentleman like his mama taught him.

-I see you're already packing - your supervisor looked at you from the door frame while you put your things in a cardboard box.

-Yes, I'm almost done - you looked at him smiling kindly trying to ignore the uncomfortable look he had on your butt that was visible in your pencil skirt.

-Leave that there for a moment, I need you to go down and tell Thomas that he has to go, the animal is still cutting meat and doesn't want to go home - the old man took off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt regardless of the worried expression on your face.

-Do I… should I go? sir, I think the best thing would be…

-It's an order, you still work here, that's why I didn't want to hire women, they're always so useless- the disgusting man laughed mockingly as he walked to his office - get off your ass and get down right now

Your gaze quickly fixed on the large window of what was your place from where you could clearly see Thomas hitting the pieces of meat with his sharp knife making a sound against the wooden table, it took you a few seconds to take a breath and pass saliva to get down, the aroma of raw meat disgusted you too much, just like the blood spread all over the place, that was what bothered you more than anything else.

-Hello..Hello Thomas - you smiled behind his back while your hands played nervously in front of you - well, I think they had already informed you that the slaughterhouse is going to close today and..- you sighed, adjusting your cat-eye glasses on your nose sighing holding on not to get dizzy with the intense aroma of meat - and well you must go home

Thomas paused a little but after a few seconds he hit the flesh again with such force that he made you jump on your heels.

-Thomas…please don't make this more difficult, I don't want them to come down and scold you like they always do- Your voice lowered a little, almost in a whisper, trying not to let your supervisor hear you and get you both in trouble, but Thomas just continued ignoring your advice

-Don't you listen to what she said you damn animal? You won't work here anymore, go home with your stupid family - your supervisor came down the stairs, standing halfway screaming in the distance, making the huge man turn around with his knife in his hand, squeezing it so hard that his knuckles seemed like they would break the skin from his hand

Your eyes looked with at the man with glasses and then at Thomas with fear that something would happen, after all you were in the middle and the tension of both collided with your small and fragile body, that was when your poor gaze weakened between you in the dark and humid environment, you could notice how Thomas's hand was shaking and his breathing was agitated making his chest rise and fall.

-Thomas..please - with fear your hand extended making the giant barely look at you through his long locks of hair - no…it's not worth it - with fear you took his hand, it was the first time Thomas felt the skin of a woman against his and despite the anger he felt, his breathing was not still agitated because of it, but because of the delicate way your skin felt against his - give me that, I'll put it here okay? -You looked at him slowly taking the knife, placing it on the table and you smiled shyly walking away a few steps slowly so that he wouldn't feel threatened.

-That's it damn idiot, I bet you've never felt that before, huh?, You'll get so hard with this bitch that you'll forget why you came here- The disgusting old man laughed as he returned to his office, leaving the two of you alone, tense and nervous.

Thomas just looked at the floor shyly, he knew he was right, no one had ever touched him even by accident and that made him feel vulnerable.

-It's okay Thomas, don't worry about what he says go home, I hope you and your family are okay - you smiled at him again, turning around in a hurry, almost running to the bathroom, you could feel a knot in your stomach because of all the vices and meat that were scattered on the tables, crossing the long corridor in a hurry until you reached the bathroom where as soon as you opened the door you vomited.

Your knees on the cold floor and your hands holding your own hair made it impossible for you to hear what was happening outside, retching made your eyes water and after a few minutes with shaky legs you stood up wiping your lips with the front of your hand.

You took a little longer looking at yourself in the mirror, fixing the lipstick that had been ruined with your fingers and carefully washing your hands, always taking care of your image as mom had taught you since you were a girl.

After that you went to your desk putting away the few things that were left, a couple of photographs and your notebooks with notes that maybe would no longer work at all but you still wanted to keep them, after all they were from your first job so with the box of cardboard full of your belongings under your arm you prepared to go say goodbye to your boss.

-I'm done sir, is there anything I can do… -your feet stopped dead looking at the completely destroyed office, the desk was broken in half and there we re objects thrown all over the place- sir? - You walked in fear towards what looked like a pair of destroyed legs under the wood of the table and as soon as you got closer you could notice the old man lying in a pool of blood with his head shattered.

The box under your arm slid hard, making it sound on the floor as it fell while your hands covered your face and a loud scream came from your throat and you took steps backwards trying to get out of the traumatic scene until your back collided with a firm figure making you spin fast.

There was Thomas, looking at you with his strong breathing and his dark eyes like you had never seen before while he held a chainsaw in his hand.

-Thom..Thomas-you looked at him scared, walking back again in fear looking at his hand-leave…leave that, leave it on the floor

Only a growl came out of his throat, answering you firmly and confusedly, but it was definitely a refusal to your request.

-Please…don't hurt me, I won't say anything, I promise -your wet eyes and your heavy breathing made him doubt, of course you were going to say something, but in the same way he didn't want to hurt you, you were always kind to him, you were the only person who noticed him when he arrived and who received him every morning wishing him a good day.

Your eyes and his were staring at each other, as if either of you were waiting for a movement from the other to attack or to scream, whoever acted first was going to react to the other, but the sound of a car interrupted making both of you look towards the front door which after a few seconds opened and they both could notice Officer Hoyt entering with the gun in his hand.

-It's the police…- you looked at him again, curious as to how they could find out about the crime - Thomas, they are going to arrest you, if they find you they will take you with them.

The big man looked at the floor confused, realizing what he had done and a fear began to grow in him, not knowing what to do to remedy the mistake he had made.

-Come with me - you approached with fear, careful not to make any movement that would make him believe that you were going to attack him or that you were going to run away and again your hand held his so delicately that once again Thomas felt special - I will get you out of here

You hurriedly pulled his hand, his huge body almost following you, looking behind you in fear of being discovered, but at the same time in his mind he kept having that curiosity about how you had decided to help him after what he did, he was a murderer and what he had done was wrong

-Come, here there is a door through which we entered, it is far from the main door, no one will notice - you looked at him to make sure that he remained calm and after a few minutes walking you let go of his hand to push the door with both hands and help him escape - no one will find you if you get home quickly

Thomas shook his head, approaching you again but this time extending his hand, offering it to you while his head remained down and his eyes avoided looking at yours.

-Do you…do you want me to go with you? -You looked at him curiously with a little fear and he just slowly shook his hand indicating that he wanted you to take it so you carefully approached taking his hand, following his step when he began to walk without bothering his chainsaw in the other hand

The road was silent at first, just the two of you both walking along the side of the road under the strong Texas sun, at no time letting go of the other's hand, which in the same way if you wanted to you couldn't do it, his hand was huge and strong making Yours will be hidden between his thick fingers.

-And…is anyone from your family at home right now? -You looked at him curiously, feeling stupid knowing that he wouldn't answer you but he just nodded with his head without taking his eyes off the front-Oh really?…is…your mother?

He denied and you continued asking trying to guess who was home, feeling stupid and insistent.

-Well, your uncle? -You looked at him, sighing in relief when he nodded, looking at you with a touch of innocence that was difficult for you to believe after knowing that he had ended your boss's life - oh really? That's good…I'm alone you know, my mom moved to Austin a week ago and I told her I would go with her as soon as I finished my work.

Thomas looked at you stopping his pace, his gaze was the same as always but his eyebrows furrowed with some sadness making you also look at him without knowing what was happening.

-Something happens? I said something wrong? Thomas, sorry, I didn't want to…- your free hand barely moved on your chest, trying to make him understand that you were sorry from the bottom of your heart, but he barely grunted denied and leaving your hand, his finger carefully touched the center of your chest and then touched himself pointing at him - you?…I don't understand

He again pointed at you and then at him almost desperately as if he wanted to let you know what he wanted to say but his words did not come out and your little understanding of him was almost impossible.

-You…do you want…me?…Do you want me to stay…with you? - Thomas nodded, taking your hand again walking without waiting for you to take a step, making you stumble - but, I can't…

His hand gave a strong squeeze to yours making you moan a little in surprise, an action that made him feel something strange, that was also something new that he had heard from a girl,

-I really would like to stay but I have to go with my mother- your eyes kept looking at the road trying not to trip again but then you fixed them on him when you didn't hear any grunt from him, at this point you had already understood that this was his way of communicating.

But the road became even quieter, only your footsteps could be heard on the asphalt and from time to time a sigh came out of your mouth due to the suffocating heat you felt on your forehead.

It was a couple of meters ahead when again the sound of a car behind you made you turn your head, feeling relief but worried when you noticed the police car stopping in the middle of the road.

-Hands up son, stay away from that poor girl - Officer Hoyt pointed at Thomas, cutting the cartridge from his gun.

Thomas knew what that sound meant, he had heard it many times when he saw Charlie and Monty hunting, so with his hand he pushed you a little away from him worried that something bad could happen to you.

It was your time to run away, you could run and get away until you lost sight of them but something made you stay there, watching as the policeman pointed his gun at Thomas and honestly inside you just felt scared that something could happen to him.

-Sir, he didn't do anything wrong to me, we were just walking…- you looked at him trying to fix the situation, believing that that would be enough for him to leave.

-I saw what he did in the slaughterhouse sweetheart, you should not protect this damn animal- Hoyt looked at you for a second to return his attention to the big man in front of him. -You murdered a man ya’know, you will go to prison for what ya’did

You could feel your breathing really hard, nervous and afraid that a bullet could come out and hurt Thomas, after all yes, he murdered a man but he did it to defend himself after all the bad things that they had been done to him and in the same way , it was not such an exemplary man who died, so it had not been a great loss

-We have a problem, sheriff - your attention quickly focused on an elderly man who was holding a shotgun and shot without thinking killing the officer, again your hands covered your face while you screamed in fear.

-Calm down your little girlfriend, Thomas - the man laughed, approaching the body and a pair of hands held your shoulders delicately, making your hands lower in fear, looking at the giant in front of you.

-I want this to stop, I don't want to see any more people die - you looked at him crying with fear - I don't want to be next, I've only been good to you, please don't hurt me.

-No one will hurt you darling- the old man laughed as he placed the sheriff's hat over his cap - This is the girl who's been making you hard for months uh Tommy? She is very pretty, of course we won't do anything bad to her right?

The fear inside you grew more and more, this man was even more disgusting than your boss was and it seemed that like Thomas, he had the idea that from today you would be part of the family and you would stay with them forever

Thomas looked at the man next to him, giving him a growl and standing in front of you looking at him threateningly.

-What? you're in love? - his laugh was louder this time - okay, I won't say anything to your little doll, now come here and put the sheriff in the trunk before he stink.

Thomas took a couple of steps and effortlessly took the officer's lifeless body and placed it in the trunk without difficulty, all in front of your disbelieving eyes.

-Come on honey get in the car, we have to go home with mama after all she has to meet her new girl

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Thanks for reading

Part 2 here!

#slasher #slasher community #slasher fandom #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beggining #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fluff #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #tcm #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt smut #the texas chainsaw massacre

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luveline · 1 year

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oooooo how about reader obsessed with hugging hotch !! like he's so big and warm and it always makes them feel safe and cared for <33

my love this isn’t exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it! I could write a hundred fics about hugging Hotch <3 fem!bau!reader

You’re addicted to Hotch’s hugs. It’s a crude metaphor, but you don’t use it lightly. Without his hugs you feel unbalanced and unsettled. It’s strange to think just a few months ago you hadn’t been able to hug him at all, though you’d sorely wanted to, and now you can do it whenever you like.

Within reason. You aren’t awful, you don’t try to pin them on him during work when he’ll be seen by high-ups and law enforcement — you would never undermine his professionalism like that, or your own. Though there are exceptions.

Like lunch time.

The team usually eat and work at the same time, but legally you’re allowed an hour a day for lunch, and Hotch wouldn’t get mad at anyone for wanting to take it in a more relaxing fashion. That being said, you usually have lunch like this; takeout around the same table, notebooks open, Reid barely picking at his, Morgan and Emily too busy eating to speak, JJ taking ten minutes for herself somewhere quiet, and Hotch hard-pushed to order anything in the first place. You sit way too close on his left and cut your sandwich in two with a plastic knife.

“Here you go,” you murmur, more to yourself than him as you pass over the bigger half.

“Honey,” he says, “no.”

“It’s okay, just eat it,” you insist.

You sound as fond as you feel, you always do. Everybody’s used to how much you like Hotch. Not just love him or care about him, like him. You like how he’s quiet and stern and assertive. You like his suits and his short-cropped hair and his frown. Everything about him makes you smile, which is amazing considering the severity of your job. Nobody resents your being sweet on him, though Morgan still makes his jokes.

“Do as the lady says, boss,” he advises. “We all know how it ends otherwise.”

Hotch frowns at him but takes your offered sandwich. You eat in silence, listening to the click of the computers in the bullpen through the open door, the warbling voice of the precincts police chief, and the rattle of keys as a janitor makes his way past the conference room you’re holed up in. Reid flicks through a map of the area, trying to narrow down his geographical profile, his pencil tap-tap-tapping.

You pass a big wad of napkins onto Hotch’s thigh, and put what’s left of your sandwich back into its wrapper. He squints at you inquisitively. You’re only standing to stretch out the nagging ache that’s coiled between your shoulders and around your neck. You click, the sound like a gunshot, and make everybody in hearing distance flinch.

Hotch abandons his food not long after you have, seeing an opening you hadn’t meant to give. He wipes his hands on a napkin, then his face.

While he’s not looking, you take a step closer. Another and another. Morgan grins at you knowingly.

You slide your arm behind Hotch’s neck, standing slightly behind him, and bring your face to the side of his head. He wraps an arm around you in turn, movement rigid with reluctance.

“It’s my legal lunch break,” you say softly. “What do you always say about breaks?”

“You can spend it however you want,” he says, sounding very much like the Hotch you get to adore outside of work, joking and light, a great surprise. “But I can spend mine however I want.”

“And you don’t want to be hugging me?” you summarise.

You’re joking in that you kind of know he doesn’t want this, not because he doesn’t want you. He’s rather shy, your Hotch. He loves hugs, but in front of others he requires a little persuasion. If you thought he truly didn’t want one you’d keep your hands to yourself, but…

“That’s not what I said.”

Pleased, you curl your second arm around his collar, hand diving into the soft hair at the back of his head. You pull with the lightest pressure, pressing a secret, soundless kiss to the end of his unhappy brow. And then, because you love him and you don’t want to embarrass him too much, you spring away from him like it never happened.

Later, when dark has enveloped the city and you’re making your way out to the SUV that’s gonna take you to the hotel for the night, you fall into step with your lovely boyfriend and sigh. You’ve felt the guilt of your hug all day.

“Thank you,” you say.

It takes him a second to emerge from his thoughts. “For what?”

He doesn’t add a pet name, but his tone implies one.

“For letting me, uh, climb all over you at lunch. I know public displays aren’t your favourite.”

He tilts his head toward yours without looking at you. “It makes you feel better.”

He doesn’t need to say the obvious. You both work a hard job emotionally.

“I don’t want to make you feel worse,” you say, voice sticky with bashfulness.

He laughs, tipping his head back in the open air, and it’s odd enough for him that you gawp, worse when he wraps his hand around yours and swings them mildly forth and back.

“In what world would a hug from you make me feel worse, honey?”

You smile in fits and starts for hours. In the SUV, in the hotel elevator, in the hallway outside of your room. You smile as you and Hotch get changed into lounge clothes for the night, and as he twines your fingers together under the sheets.

He’s far from stupid. He knows why you’re smiling, and while his mind is on the case, he takes the time to say, “You don’t have to be so quick to move away. In front of the BAU.”

“Think we could get away with it in front of Strauss?”

“…No.”

You laugh, and Hotch evidently likes the sound of it. He lets you hug him like a straight jacket until 5AM.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x y/n

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shegatsby · 6 months

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Could I ask for Hannibal lecter with a former patient reader with extreme anxiety and fear of going outside and people? Maybe a house call for this little recluse?

(Would appreciate if they were also FTM but not a requirement)

Thanks!

-B

A/N; Hi B, thanks for the request even though it had been weeks since you sent it to me... oops. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy!

Warnings; Anxiety and panic attack, reader has phobia of going outside.

You were triggered again, you had a specific nightmare last night. In the nightmare you were being chased by your stalker (you had a stalker last year so developed a certain anxiety about going out. Thankfully he is behind bars now.) in the nightmare he was holding a gun and chasing you in the public but no one helped you. Except him. Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Due to your circumstance you sought professional help. You did a profound research about him and his techniques and you found nothing but good review. You decided to give it a shot and you didn’t regret it at all. You explained your situation to him in detail via email, he replied saying that he was glad to work with such an open minded and communicative young woman.

He urged you to go to his office for the first session but you were unwilling so you suggested to do it online, it was 45 minutes and when you were, put the laptop away… you felt a sudden relief.

The next session he suggested to go to a coffee shop near your home, you liked the idea and agreed.

It was a cold Baltimore weather so you both had gloves, long coats, he couldn’t help but notice how professional you dressed. A black pencil skirt, a dark red blouse, soft make-up, hair let loose yet kept under control and delicate hands holding your coffee mug. You were well mannered and put together. Also, your impression on him was the same as him, both of you had a mutual feeling for each other that day. Normally, Dr. Lecter had 45 minute sessions with his patients just like your first session. However, with you, it was more than 2 hours. The conversation was elite and brilliant that he didn’t want to leave that cozy place, after the session he gave you a lift and planned the next session.

Weeks passed and you started to go to his office, you had an idea about his environment but seeing it for the first time was something else. His office was like a mixture of library and museum, which both of those places were your favorite. When he saw the inquisitive shine in your eyes he let you explore.

You talked about your favorite books and art and culture etc.

You loved talking to him and he loved talking to you. Most of his patients were shallow and stupid but you knew your art and literature. After decades of being surrounded by peasants Hannibal found someone who got excited about small things and had her own brilliant opinions. Your energy was refreshing to say the least.

The nightmare you had made you paranoid, your door was locked, windows shot and curtains closed, you were in your pjs and in 45 minutes you had to be in Dr. Lecter’s office. It was impossible, you sent him an email about bot being able to make it today. Instead of replying by an email he called you directly, ‘’Hello, Dr. Lecter.’’

‘’Hello , Y/N.’’ he started, he had started to address you by your name few weeks ago and asked you to do the same but his demeanor and the way he held himself made you a bit intimidated. ‘’I hope you are well.’’ He continued, ‘’Is there a problem?’’ there was a silence. ‘’Yes, I don’t think I can come today.’’ You simply replied, covering yourself with blankets on your couch, total darkness surrounding you.

‘’Your voice sounds strange.’’ He announced, you didn’t say anything and he let a sigh of distress, He ‘’I’m coming over. Do not move.’’ And he hung up.

He knew your address, something in you kept you at your place or maybe it was his strict tone.

Some time later there was a knock on your door which made you jump from your seat, you grabbed a knife from the kitchen and walked to the door.

‘’Its me.’’ You heard his voice, ‘’You can lower your weapon of choice.’’ He added, how did he know that you were carrying a weapon?

You opened the door to him, he looked at you up and down and let himself in, closed the door and locked it. Seeing such a young and elegant woman being torn apart by her mental state made him feel something… he felt as if he was her savior.

You noticed that the second you saw him you felt safe, like a sense of warmness spreading inside of your chest.

You turned to go to the living room, he followed, this was the first time he saw your house, he was in awe of how clean and organized it was even though it was dark due to the fact that all the curtains were closed.

He sat on a single armchair, placed his leather bag next to his feet, his coat placed on his lap, you took your place among your blankets.

‘’May I ask what has made you… like this?’’ he looked around the room, ‘’I don’t want to talk about it.’’ You said like a little child.

‘’Are you hungry?’’ he asked to change the subject, you realized that you didn’t eat anything since you have woken up. He understood from your deep eyes and stood up.

Soon you heard sounds coming from the kitchen. You decided to get a sneak peek, he wore your red apron and cooking something from the things he found in your fridge. It melt your heart.

Hannibal Lecter wasn’t used to this but when he saw you like that he couldn’t help but be there for you, you were an interesting case for him and he even thought about keeping your mental health not worse but not good either so that he could keep having you in his life but it seemed like you were planning to be in his life for a long time weather as a friend, a patient or someone close..

Thank you. :)

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

Text

The Arcana HCs: Giving first aid to the M6 when it's MC's fault that they're slightly hurt

~ you already know I had to do the reverse scenario! Link to part 1 below. Bone apple teeth - brainrot ~

- to set the scene -

You had recently been struck with some inspiration regarding a new spell idea and were frantically scribbling it down in your trusty notebook. You weren't sure how you would implement it, but if you could somehow combine latent spell magic with a time piece you might be able to set specific delays for it to take place ...

As you sharpen your pencil between pages of half formed plans, you hear the sound of the door opening and closing as your beloved walks in. As soon as they ask you about what you're up to, you're animatedly spewing your thought process. Just as they come up behind you for a hello kiss, you fling your hands wide in exasperation and the pencil in your hand smacks them across the face. Now you're turning around to see them wide-eyed, a tiny bead of blood welling up on their cheekbone.

Julian

Barely a moment's hesitation. This is his chance. This is his time to shine. There is so much dramatic potential for this.

See the drama, feel the drama, BE THE DRAMA

"Alas! Home I have come to greet my beloved, and I am met with the sharpest of lead!"

"Julian, darling, it's just a scratch."

"Tis the smallest of wounds doth smart the most. I am stung with the might of a thousand papercuts!"

He's throwing his whole body into the part at this point, staggering around the living room with one hand clasped over his cheek and the other tearing open his shirt to clutch at his chest

He definitely bangs his knee on a side table as he collapses onto the sofa while you approach him with your handkerchief

"Hold still, I need to wipe it off."

Clutching at you dramatically, not so subtly trying to pull you down on top of him while you dab at his cheek

"Tell me good doctor, is this to be my end? The light ... it calls to me ... is that you, mother? Say it isn't so! For I am held by my beloved angel as they tend to my wounds with all tenderness."

"You should be fine now, it's not even bleeding anymore."

Refuses to let you leave the couch

"I dare not ask you to stay by my side with this disfigurement, but let me at least know the sweetness of your kiss one last time -"

"You really don't need to be this dramatic-"

"I AM THE DRAMA"

You won't even be able to see the scratch in the morning, but his knee will be stiff for the rest of the week

Asra

Sputtering slightly, they didn't expect to get smacked in the face while bringing you tea

Doesn't realize he's injured, you were just getting to a really good point about release mechanisms and there's this tie dye inspired glitter bomb he's been working on for a while now ...

Wait, you look upset. What's wrong, how can they help, here's your tea, what's bothering you?

He's bleeding? He'll chuckle slightly as a single wave of his fingers heals it entirely, he's touched at your concern but it's nothing to get that upset about

Now you're pouting slightly, and it's adorable, and oh they can tease you about this can't they

He knows how to bide his time though, you've all but forgotten about it until later that evening when you're working on your shop inventory and he puts his hands up and freezes when he walks by

"Asra? What's wrong?"

"Oh nO, noT tHe PenCiL!"

When you wake up the next morning and go to start breakfast every knife and fork in the drawer has been enchanted to jump out of your fingers as soon as you pick them up

"Asra? What is this?!"

A smug, half-asleep voice floats across to you from the bed:

"You can't be trusted with pointy objects, MC, I want to keep my eyeballs."

"How am I supposed to make toast?!"

"I don't know MC, probably without giving the stove salamander cause to believe that it is is about to get skewered as well."

Nadia

Looking at you with both eyebrows raised, one hand slowly moving to touch her cheek

You're immediately scrambling to heal it with magic, promising it won't leave a scar, you're so sorry, it was an accident

She'll allow you to heal her and let you spew your apologies, one eyebrow raised as she regards you with a quiet smirk

"Tell me, MC, exactly how much damage could you do with a pencil?"

You're not sure if she's teasing you or genuinely curious, but hey, since she's asking may as well tell her

It's not hard to come up with ideas, half of effective magic use is creativity

The longer you talk, the more she shifts from amusement to awe. She knew that you would make a formidable foe, but with the right prompt your skillset and creativity are downright terrifying

Truly, a worthy court magician and life partner

She will develop a new habit from this, of pointing at mundane objects and asking you how you would weaponize it

Every time you answer she falls in love with you a little more

One time during a meeting with a power hungry courtier she got tired of his manipulative attempts and pointed at the quill pen in his hand

"Tell me, court magician, how could you most effectively use that to damage someone?"

She took great delight in watching the courtier's face slowly drain of color as you answered in gleeful detail

Muriel

Didn't really feel it, he gets whacked in the face way harder by tree branches all the time

But now you're reaching up at him, so gently, brushing your fingertips across his cheek with traces of magic and the most vulnerable look in your eyes

Are you? Are you about to kiss him? Okay, here goes -

You are now very confused. You just slashed him across the face with your pencil, and then he kissed you out of nowhere while you were trying to heal the scratch???

You're not complaining but you don't exactly follow the thought process here either

Now the two of you are looking at each other in awkward silence, blushing heavily while Inanna whines from secondhand embarrassment

Cue one of the most painful conversations you've ever had with him, the two of you stumbling over half-sentences as you explain yourselves, slowly wishing you could sink into the floor

At one point he asks why you didn't move away if you weren't trying to initiate a kiss, he didn't want to do anything you weren't asking for

When you tell him that you like him asking for affection his face goes up in flames

He still isn't comfortable touching you out of nowhere though, so now he has a little ritual of putting a pencil in your hand before he leans in for a kiss, so you know what to expect and have time to move away if you don't want it

Portia

"... Did you just stab me?"

Mostly just laughing in disbelief, she didn't see it coming and the look on your face is priceless

Won't let you near the scratch at first

"No, it's my battle scar! I look so cool with it, stop trying to wipe it away!"

Once you mention healing magic her interest is piqued, so she'll allow it

Now she wants you to teach her. It's been obvious that she has an affinity for magic, and being able to smooth over a scratch or blister or burn from baking would be a real lifesaver

The tricky thing is that learning healing magic requires some kind of injury to heal

You spend the evening practicing on some of the fruits in her gardens that have gotten a bit banged up, and then the next afternoon you stop by the kitchen with her to offer your healing services to the chefs

When she runs out of practice volunteers there, the two of you take to wandering the halls of the palace, asking whoever passes you if they've been recently injured and are willing to be practiced on

Nadia finds you in the gardens, asking one of the poor botanists if they know of anyone who's recently run into the poison ivy

"Portia, MC. Good afternoon. Would either of you be willing to enlighten me as to why several maids have reported concerns of illegal medical experimentation?"

She's amused by your explanation but you're not allowed to do magic practice on strangers any more

Lucio

This time it's your turn to say "oopsie", with the smuggest grin on your face

"MC! How could you!"

Cupping his cheek with his hand and giving you the biggest kicked puppy expression he can handle

Is he actually hurt? No. Can he even feel it? No.

Is this a potential way to get extra attention and affection from you? Yes, and he fully intends to take advantage of that

Will let you heal it because he likes the way your hand feels on his face but will keep using the fact that it happened to milk the situation

"How about a kiss, MC? You're busy? Too bad, and my cheek was really feeling sore too ..."

Pretty soon you can't deny him anything without him sending you the biggest puppy eyes and raising a hand (or gauntlet) to his cheek

"Lucio, that's the wrong side. I scratched you on the other cheek."

He'll rapidly switch over, sputtering the whole time with a blush and pout

"It's still sore! So can I get that kiss now?"

Eventually you get a little fed up and threaten to undo your healing magic. That slows him down a bit

Is it actually possible to "undo" healing magic? Probably not. Are you going to take the lack of attempts at guilt tripping anyway? Absolutely

He does pick up a habit of threatening people with pencils though

#the arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana shitpost #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #muriel of the kokhuri

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aliteral-ghost · 5 months

Text

This is the piece I did for @hermitzine! It was so much fun to be a part of this project and get to work with everyone! The theme of this zine was music and I hope that's obvious in this piece :)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the record skipping is Joe’s alarm clock this morning, and it’s only because it skips multiple times that he actually gets up. Darn, he slept in again, and now he has to stay up late again so he can finish the parts of the machine that he needs to get done, and it’ll just end with him sleeping in again. At least he has–oh. The record that has been playing all night (and also for the past few weeks, if he’s honest) has a massive groove in it, tearing through all of the ridges and splintering the vinyl.

“Aw, man,” Joe mutters, staring at the destroyed disk in his hands. “That’s my last one of those.” To be fair, he probably should have expected something like this to happen after using the record player while placing hundreds of blocks of sand, but it’s still sad. To be fair, this has happened to the last five disks he overplayed, but Joe is nothing if not persistent.

The next day he and Cleo are halfway through their weekly crafting session when they hum. “No music today?” Joe waves a hand.

“Some days the best music is the sound of nature around you.” He sets down a pencil and listens to said sound of nature, which is currently someone very violently chopping down trees. “You know, be in the moment, and all that.” He’s never lived in the moment once in his life and they both know it, but then again neither has Cleo.

“Sure.” Cleo pauses for just a minute. “Not this music, though. Ugh, who is…” They both glance over across the river, where Keralis is hard at work collecting wood. He pauses briefly to wave once he’s noticed them looking, smiling widely. They both wave back and Keralis continues, moving on to the next tree.

“Do you ever think about how our lives have a soundtrack?” Joe says after a minute, mindlessly coloring the sheets of paper he brought, tracing out the blueprint for a part of the pinball machine. Cleo looks over from where she’s drawing in her own notebook.

“No?” They say, voice lilting up like a question. “I don’t? Why, do you?” She wrinkles her eyebrows, more focused on the calligraphy than really focusing on the conversation. It’s how they roll, most weeks. Joe talks and Cleo nods along.

“Well, sure! I like to think about the song that might be playing while things are happening. For a while, it was otherside, but…” Cleo glances over again, this time more interested.

“You broke all of your disks, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I must have played them in the sand too much or something. Whomp, whomp.” He follows the statement up with a laugh, sort of high-pitched and frantic. “D’you think we all have different soundtracks then, if we do?”

“Oh, for sure,” Cleo says, in a voice that still sounds like they’re just humoring him. “Like Doc? His soundtrack is all scary, like heavy metal, right? There’s no way he and Scar have the same backing tracks.” They pause for just a second. “No, I lied. Doc’s isn’t heavy metal, he’s too much of a softie. Pearl’s is. She’s bloody hardcore.”

That’s an accurate assumption, Joe guesses. He hasn’t been privy to much Pearl has done this season, but he’s fairly certain she just built an entire Ender dragon out of pilfered dragon eggs. If there’s someone able to intimidate Cleo, it’s her.

“So what’s yours, then?” Cleo asks, setting her pen down and leaning on her hands. “Whatever song you’re obsessed with now over and over?”

“I don’t have much time for anything else.” Joe laughs again. “Besides, sometimes the best soundtrack is the same song, over and over, just played at different tempos depending on mood.”

This earns him a patented Cleo lookTM as she turns back to her journal, picking up a small knife. They don’t talk for a while after that, instead listening to the leaves rustle, water flow, and trees topple.

“Here,” they say eventually, after the wood-collecting has gotten to be too much, and pass Joe a record. “Put this on, I know you’re aching to.” He gasps, energy he hasn’t felt in a while jolting through him, and pulls out his jukebox.

“Thanks, Cleo!”

The aforementioned record is a simple piano tune, the melody and harmony weaving in and out of each other’s path, spinning down the river and floating high into the air. It fills the server with its music, and although Joe knows that the little song is barely reaching further than Keralis he’d like to think that Tango, in the depths of Decked Out 2, and False, high up on a snowy peak, and Grian and Doc, fighting their battles over the perimeter, can hear it.

It’s a song that, although the notion is cliche, feels like home. It has managed to encapsulate the feeling that persists, from all ten years of Hermitcraft, of family and friends and feeling like belonging.

#hermitcraft #hermitzine #joe hills #zombie cleo #music

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cordeliawhohung · 5 months

Text

Golden Days

soap x pianist!fem!reader - written for @glitterypirateduck holiday challenge

A quiet coffee shop is the perfect place for Johnny to relax and get his mind off things. But he finds he enjoys it a bit more when someone starts playing the old, beat up piano.

masterlist

warnings: none! super fluffy! short and sweet. maybe slightly ooc soap because i don't write for him super often...

wc: 1.7k

a/n: inspired by the original lyrics to "have yourself a merry little christmas." i think that version deserves some more love.

Getting some R & R was always easier said than done, and Johnny found that he always had to keep his hands busy while he was on leave. Whether it was a quick skirmish of footy, hitting the gym, or even going for a walk, he was always in motion. But as the weather got cruddy with the bitter December wind and the pavement slick with what little snow dusted the lands, he found himself stuck to drawing. Simple sketches, he liked to call them. Silly doodles that meant little to nothing.

A majority of his journal was full of fragments of the world. A favela in Brazil where the buildings and homes seemed to stretch forever; a watermelon with a knife sticking out of it; diagrams of various ships and vehicles; the works. And he’d write some snarky comment or make fun of his captain in the privacy of ink and paper. His home away from home, whenever he was feeling sentimental, anyway.

Even as he enjoyed a fresh cup of coffee in his favorite mom-and-pop’s cafe, he drew. At first he started out with attempting to draw his cup of coffee, logo and all, until he realized that it would be lukewarm at best by the time he got the sketch how he liked it. Instead, he opted to drink his coffee while he scribbled down a Christmas tree. Might as well keep it to memory when the older gentleman who made his coffee had obviously spent so much effort into decorating it. Dazzling lights, gold tinsel and ribbons, and a glowing star at the very top. He wouldn’t be able to catch all the details, but it was enough.

A cold chill blew past the exposed skin on his forearm as the door opened and closed with a ringing bell. By habit, Johnny quickly glanced up towards the entrance where he saw you, bundled up in a winter outfit. He had never seen you before, which didn’t surprise him because he was hardly home enough to recognize most faces anymore. Your smile instantly warmed the shop back up as you grinned at the old man behind the counter.

“About time you showed up,” the old geezer teased as you approached him. “The usual?”

Sweet, Johnny thought. There was always something endearing about the love elders held for younger generations. Their knowing gazes, their kind smiles, although usually mischievous too. The owner got to work on making your cup of coffee, and as you waited you began to wander around the shop. Decorated head to toe in pine and all the gold decorations in the world, it was a bright warm corner in the sleepy city.

Naturally, you eventually made your way over to an upright piano pushed up against the wall next to the Christmas tree. Somehow, it was beautiful and ugly at the same time. Faded ivory keys, but a beautiful dark stained wood for the body, and it was also missing the upper panel, exposing the hammers and strings. It looked like it had been through hell and back, yet still stood proudly like the day it was made.

“Why don’t you play us something?” the owner suggested, his hands still busy with making your drink.

You paused just as your fingers brushed against the keys before throwing a cautious glance around the shop. No one else was in the shop besides Johnny, who you threw a polite smile towards before your eyes settled back on the older man.

“Maybe another time,” you deflected, eyes flickering over to Johnny. “Don’t want to scare away your customers.”

“Aye, don’t worry about me,” Johnny spoke up. He waved a graphite covered hand at you, pencil still nestled between his fingers. “I don’t mind a bit of music.”

The internal struggle was obvious in your eyes, and Johnny turned his attention back to his drawing in an attempt to keep the pressure off of you. Eventually he heard a slight creak of wood as the ancient stool settled underneath your weight. Johnny couldn’t help but glance back up at you as your fingers ghosted over the keys, petting them almost, before you dove headfirst into a dreamy chord.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, the music quickly cutting off.

Boisterous laughter erupted from the owner as he leaned against the counter, your cup of coffee next to him. You looked at him with wild eyes and mouth slightly agape.

“You tuned this piece of junk?” you questioned.

The old man held his arms to the side and shrugged. “Merry Christmas.”

With some newfound vigor, your attention returned back to the piano in front of you before you played that chord once more, that time with more confidence. It was such a soft, beautiful melody; something that reminded Johnny of his childhood somehow, yet he couldn’t quite place it. Some sort of nostalgia hidden deep in his chest that started to ache and burn.

And then you started to sing.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.”

That… wasn’t how he remembered the song going. Blue eyes tore away from his journal as Johnny looked up at you. With your back turned to him, it was impossible to see your face, but he watched as your arms moved and fingers danced, how your body swayed with the beat and your feet tapped on the pedals.

“Next year we may all be living in the past. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Pop that champagne cork. Next year we may all be living in New York.”

So much for making the Yule-tide gay. There was something a little more somber about this version of the song you performed, something that had both Johnny and the shop owner completely enamored. Between your singing and the lights of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over you, it was something straight out of an odd, demented Hallmark movie.

“No good times like the olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who were dear to us, will be near to us no more.”

There was a slight pause in the music. A prolonged chord that rang on the exposed shimmering strings of the piano. The moving hammers fell still in the exposed skeleton of the piano. After a moment, your head fell slightly as you continued on to finish the rest of the song.

“But at least we all will be together. If the Lord allows. From now on, we’ll have to muddle through somehow. So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”

Notes sang and died down into silence as the song ended. You sat there for a short while before sliding off of the bench and awkwardly facing the rest of the mostly empty shop. The owner gave you a few well-natured claps, to which you bowed sarcastically to before approaching the counter once more to retrieve your drink. But Johnny was still dumbfounded.

“Beautiful. Haven’t heard that version before,” he spoke up, setting his pencil along the center of his journal where it rested between the pages. He leaned back in his seat, stunning blue eyes taking in the sight of you.

You turned to him with a sheepish smile, hands wrapped around the warm center of your cup. “It’s the original version Judy Garland wrote, actually. The one they deemed too depressing and asked her to change.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. I always liked this version better,” you explained.

Somehow during your short conversation, you had managed to meander closer to Johnny’s table, hand brushing against the chair across from him yet not braving to take the seat. He wasn’t ignorant to the way your eyes flickered down to his journal, or how your lips tugged into a small smile at the sight of it.

“Pretty,” you commented, nodding towards the journal.

Instinctively, Johnny glanced down at his work, and he could feel his throat grow a little tight. There was the luxurious Christmas tree he had sketched, with the dazzling ornaments, then there was the dimensions of the walls behind it, and then there was a half finished sketch of you, sitting at the piano facing away from him.

“Aye, it’s something I guess,” he chuckled, hands playing with the edge of the paper.

He blamed the glow of the lights for making you so beautiful. Like some sort of angel that should have been sitting on top of a tree rather than talking with someone like him. But you are there, and you’re real, and you ask him his name and give him yours and he swears that whole conversation feels like coming home. Like he never belonged anywhere else except in that coffee shop with you. Maybe he was just feeling sentimental.

“Well, I, uh, have to get going,” you said eventually, eyes awkwardly darting to the clock that rested above Johnny’s head on the wall. “But I’ll be back here around the same time tomorrow. I could… play you a happier song.”

It was impossible for him to hide his grin as he stared up at you. Of course he agreed, and he found himself getting more excited for it than he should have been. You give him a sheepish wave as you exit the shop, the bell ringing with your absence as you dissipate down the street. Things grew quiet again as it was just Johnny and the old shopkeeper, who was busy cleaning his machines. He looked back down at his journal and fiddled with his pencil as he thought about how to finish up his sketch. A part of him wished you came into the shop earlier. He would have put you at the center of the picture rather than that tree.

“She’s single,” the man suddenly spoke up.

When Johnny looked up, he realized the man was looking at him, and he wasn’t all too secretive about the mischievous glint he had in his eyes either. Really, he wasn’t quite sure what to say in response.

“Yeah? That’s some intel you got,” he said, slightly stiff and a bit sarcastic.

“She likes the Italian restaurant two blocks down the road,” the man continued. “I’m sure she would say yes if you asked her to go with you.”

At that, Johnny had to chuckle, and it sounded something like a warm grumble in his chest, as if he was actually attempting to entertain the idea. Still smiling, he glanced down at his journal again, finger tapping against the paper.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.

Well, perhaps he could entertain that thought after all.

#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #codholiday2023 #cod x reader

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somecrustypunk · 3 days

Text

How to make a stencil for your patches

⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️

You will need:

Sponge

Watercolour paper / card

Art knife / boxcutter

Acrylic paint

Fabric

1. Find what you want to make into a patch. It's best if you can find a black and white image of what you want (or just draw it), whatevers in white should be able to support itself when you get rid of the negative space.

2. Print and use the edge of a pencil to shade the back of the image, it should look a bit tike this.

3. Flip around and use masking tape to stick it to card or watercolour paper, then use a blunt pencil to trace around your image. You should be left with a faded outline of what you want on the card underneath.

4. Use an art knife or box cutter to carve out all the negative space

5. Finally used a sponge and some acrylic paint and dab it over the stencil onto your fabric. I ironed the fabric I used beforehand so it was flatter and easier to print on

Anyway Ive struggled finding ways to print that work for me so I hope this works for other ppl

#patches #diy #punk pants #art #punk vest #diy or die #punk #up the punx #stencil #ram #skull

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lovelybucky1 · 6 months

Text

House of Amateurs- Exclusive Interview with Zena Daren

as the #1 and possibly only anakin x zana stan, i asked @hanasnx if i could write a fic about them. i got full permission to write and post this and aboslutley 100% of the credit goes to indy for the original character(s), the universe, and for this super sexy version of anakin. i tried my hardest to keep the same characterization and i hope i am able to do it justice. please please please check out the krayt house masterlist if you haven't already. all of the fics are so amazing and well written. this fic seriously got away from me. it's 4.8k words of sexual tension and filthy smut. thank you so much indy for allowing me to write this, and i hope you enjoy <<333

krayt house masterlist

my masterlist

warnings: pornstar!anakin x OC!zena daren, dirty talk, minor roleplay, mentions of porn, vaginal fingering, minor nipple play, minor misogyny, semi-clothed sex, degradation, praise, mirror sex, smoking, minor corruption kink, mention of knife play, minor dry humping, unprotected sex, 18+ minors DNI

Anakin sits across from Zena with his thighs spread and his arms outstretched over the back of his chair, taking up as much room as possible. He's dressed up a bit nicer today than he usually is for these interviews. A loose-fitting grey t-shirt, black cargo pants, and black boots that lace up past his ankle.

Anakin doesn't enjoy doing interviews but it's part of the job, so he tries to have a little fun with it. It may be his own twisted kind of fun, but it entertains him nonetheless. It certainly doesn't hurt when the interviewer is kind on the eyes.

Zena's pretty; she has glasses and wears pencil skirts and blouses that have one too many buttons fastened. She doesn't look like Anakin's typical co-stars who all have filler and eyelash extensions to make their eyes look even prettier when they tear up from choking.

She doesn't act like his co-stars either. They're always all over him, wanting just a shred of attention from the most sought-after male star in the industry. Zena is all business; she's not seeking his praise and she doesn't want to use him as a jumping-off point for her career.

Zena is the kind of art you want to touch, but aren't allowed to. She makes you wonder what lies underneath that buttoned-up collar. She can't be as proper as she seems; everyone has a dirty secret, but as hard as Anakin tries, she won’t let him discover it.

Anakin doesn't like to admit it, but he isn't used to women who don't fall all over themselves to get to him. He likes their banter, it's not something he usually gets to experience. Maybe he's being a little difficult in these interviews, but it's fun to try to make her crack. She's doing the same thing to him, so it's only fair.

"We've talked a lot about your series so far, but I would like to get more insight into your personal life," Zena says, crossing her legs.

Anakin eyes her legs shamelessly, tracing the lines of her calves down to her kitten-heeled shoes. She sits upright, looking very proper compared to Anakin’s lazy posture. His eyes flick back up to hers, finally ready to stop ogling her.

"What about it?" he asks.

"What do you like to do for fun?" Instead of responding to her question, Anakin raises his eyebrows just slightly in a suggestive manner. Zena blinks at him, obviously not accepting what he’s trying to convey as an answer.

"I like to work out," Anakin responds.

Zena hums as she scribbles on her notepad. “That’s not surprising. You clearly put a lot of work into maintaining your physique."

Anakin has a smug expression on his face from the comment. He knows he looks good and he’s told so often, but Zena’s acknowledgment of it makes him preen with pride. It wasn’t even a compliment really, but

Moving on, Zena asks the next question. "Are you in a relationship?"

Anakin huffs a small laugh. "I don't date."

"Why not?"

"Why would I? I get paid for the best part of them already, and I don’t do that shit for free." Anakin takes notice of Zena's expression of mild disgust. "I hope I didn't crush your dreams," he adds, smirking.

"Not my dreams, though I can sense hearts breaking across the galaxy," she replies.

Anakin has never had an interviewer who can roll with the punches like Zena. It's impressive, though it does bug him that he can't get her to break. He supposes he just has to try harder to make her sweat.

"That's enough about my personal life," Anakin says, tone not leaving much room for argument. For a moment, surprise flashes over Zena's features as she flips through her notepad to get to the next question.

"Alright then," she says. "Why don't you describe for us your perfect scene? If everything was entirely up to you, what would you shoot?"

Anakin wets his lips as he looks at Zena. There's no way this question wasn't meant to bait him.

"That's a good question," he says, just to see if she'd have any reaction to the minor praise. Unfortunately, she's still as stone as she waits for his answer. "I have a good amount of pull around here, being the main star and all, but if I had complete control..." Anakin adjusts in his seat like he is searching for an answer as if he didn't already have one in mind meant to get a rise out of Zena. “I’d want to do it home video style. No camera crew, no lighting, no mics. Just a small camera on a tripod shot in her bedroom," he says.

"Why specifically her bedroom?" Zena asks, not reacting to any of his comments.

"It'd probably look nicer than mine, and I've always liked the look of a woman's room. It has lots of personal touches you can't get on a set, so it feels more authentic. And there's something about being invited into a sacred space that's appealing to me."

Anakin isn't being untruthful in his answers, but he is playing it up a bit. Zena nods along with what he's saying, but Anakin can tell there's another question brewing.

"And what kind of co-star would you be looking for?" she asks.

That's exactly what he wanted her to ask. Like innocent prey, she has no idea what she just set herself up for.

"Not an actress, that's for sure. No offense to the girls, they're all great, but it gets boring after a while. I don't want the exaggerated moans and begging. I just want a regular woman who's down to make a video."

"Careful, you're going to get people thinking they have a chance with you," Zena jokes. Anakin lips turn into a smile, honestly enjoying this interview more than he thought he would. "Would there be any specific content you'd like to include?"

Anakin presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he thinks, the action only half-meant as an innuendo. "I like a lot of things, but I'd want to keep it more tame in this. Crazy stuff is meant for the studio, but a home video lets you capture the passion that you don't get on set," Anakin explains. "We'd just fuck."

For the first time in any of their interviews, Zena looks affected by Anakin's words. It's not obvious and if Anakin didn't have a keen sense for horny women, he probably wouldn't have noticed it. Her legs are crossed a little tighter, her chest rises and falls quicker, and she has a punishing grip on her pen.

Before Zena has a chance to respond, Anakin speaks again. "But what about you?" he asks.

His question catches her off guard. "I'm sorry?"

"You've done a lot of interviews and I'm sure you've seen your fair share of films. What's your perfect scene?"

Anakin schools his expression into one of earnestness like he's genuinely curious about her answer. He is, to an extent, but he has an ulterior motive. He told Zena his acting skills were rusty in a previous interview, but perhaps that was downplaying his talent a bit.

"Well... that's not really my area of expertise," she says, surprising Anakin with her eloquent answer. Not that he was expecting her to babble incoherently, but he would have thought it’d take longer for her to recover.

"This is the house of amateurs after all," he says, leaning back slightly in his chair to make himself look even more imposing.

Zena narrows her eyes at him slightly. "That's all the questions I have today. Thank you for your time, Mr. Skywalker. As always, it was a pleasure speaking with you."

Zena's abrupt ending to the interview catches Anakin off guard, but just like her, he can adapt. He smiles at her and leans forward in his chair, extending his hand for her to shake.

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Daren," he says, looking into her eyes. Surprisingly, the close proximity and eye contact don't make her shrink away.

The cameras cut and Zena slips her notepad and pen into her purse. Before she could stand up to leave, Anakin stood in front of her chair, blocking her path.

She raises an eyebrow at him inquisitively. "Yes?"

"I'd like to speak to you privately. Off the record," he says.

"Okay," Zena says. "Go ahead."

Anakin shakes his head and steps aside so she can stand up. "Not here." Zena doesn't appreciate the subtle power play he pulled by blocking her in, but she supposes he's used to that trick working. "Do you smoke?" he asks.

She nods and without another word, Anakin walks off towards the door to the patio. He holds the door open for her and once outside, he fishes in his pocket for a cigarette. Zena offers him the lighter out of her purse and he thanks her as she lights her own. They stand in silence for a bit while the smoke swirls around them. Zena waits for Anakin to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

"So what did you bring me out here to talk about off the record?" she asks.

Anakin leans against the wall of the building and looks over at her. His eyes shamelessly trail over her body, even more so than during the interview.

"I like you," he says.

"Thank you," she says, slightly confused.

Anakin sighs. "You're not gonna make me do this whole song and dance, are you?" he asks.

Zena takes a drag of her cigarette and the smoke flows easily out of her mouth. "I don't know what you're referring to," she responds.

She's playing coy, Anakin knows that, but coy isn't cracking and he desperately needs to see what's under her buttoned-up exterior. Anakin resolves himself, knowing he has to tell her directly what he wants. Anakin steps closer to her so she has to look up slightly to meet his eyes. She doesn't back away, much to his delight, but it's another show of her strong will.

"I want to fuck you," he says.

Zena blinks at him, not looking surprised at the admission in the slightest. "I don't do porn, Mr. Skywalker," she replies easily.

"I'm not asking you to."

"You said it yourself, you don't do that shit for free," she says before taking another puff of her cigarette.

"I'd make an exception."

Zena huffs a laugh. "I know you're used to women just throwing themselves at you so hopefully that's your reason for being so bad at this," she says. "No girl wants to hear that they're the exception, no matter what your scripts may tell you."

Anakin isn't deterred by her stubbornness. He smirks, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth slightly. "Women do throw themselves at me, but you’re making me work for it."

"Men like you always want what they can't have," she says.

Anakin doesn’t deny that. "We've been dancing around this for what, three weeks now? I know you want it just as much as I do."

Zena looks up at him, her eyes looking deeply into his as she smirks. "What a title this one would be. Anakin Skywalker Grovels for Busty Interviewer to Fuck Him."

"Those titles are always sensationalized," he says.

Zena takes a deep breath and crosses her arms over her chest. If the buttons of her blouse were undone, he'd surely be able to see cleavage but alas, she's too much of a good girl to show anything off.

"If I were to take you up on your rather pushy offer," she starts. "What's in it for me?"

"You've seen my videos," he says with a smirk.

"Like you said, all those actresses fake it."

That gets to Anakin. It's been a long time since someone doubted his performance in bed, but he's not exactly surprised that Zena went for the low blow. He doesn’t take the bait and attempt to prove himself. He knows he’s a good lay and she’s watched enough of his videos to know that too.

"I promise you I can deliver," he says, his voice dropping a little lower. "We can do whatever you want."

"Even knife play?" she asks. It isn't until he sees the faintest smile on her lips that he realizes she's joking.

“Whatever you want,” he repeats, leaning forward a little to crowd into her space. “Come upstairs with me.”

Of course, Zena knows what upstairs means. She’s only ever been in the living room of the house for interviews, but the bedrooms upstairs all have cameras in every corner to catch the best angles of the action.

“I don’t want to be on camera,” she says.

“My closet doesn't have a camera," Anakin replies.

"Your closet?" Zena repeats, unimpressed.

"Dick's the same everywhere," Anakin says with a slight shrug.

“Fine,” Zena sighs as she drops her cigarette on the ground and steps on it. Anakin does the same and opens the sliding glass door to reenter the house. Zena follows him as he walks up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom.

Zena is familiar with the house from the videos, but it looks a lot bigger from the inside. Anakin opens the door to his bedroom and Zena takes in the sight. His bed is unmade, but other than that, the room is neat, though it lacks in personality. Anakin opens the door to his closet, a large walk-in that doesn't have much in it other than clothes on the racks and a mirror on the back wall.

"Do you want me to lay down a blanket?" Anakin asks. It's a genuine offer, but his voice is teasing.

"I'll be fine," Zena replies with a roll of her eyes.

Anakin reaches out to grab her wrist and tugs her inside the closet. He shuts the door behind her and backs her against it, hands gently holding onto her hips.

"I've been thinking about having you like this for weeks," Anakin says. "Been dying to know what you're hiding."

"What I'm hiding?"

Anakin moves his hand up to her collar where he toys with her buttons. "You act like such a good girl but you can't be in this industry without having some dirty secrets."

He undoes her first button, and when he nods at him to keep going, he undoes all of them down to her navel. When Anakin pushes the fabric of the shirt to the side, he reveals Zena's lace bra. He raises his eyebrows at her, but she doesn’t give him any explanation.

Helping him out, Zena unbuttons her shirt the rest of the way and pushes it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Anakin takes in the sight of her breasts: full, round, and absolutely mouth-watering. He ducks his head and presses open-mouthed kisses to the top of her breasts.

"Don't leave any marks," she says.

Anakin's eyes, now blown wide with lust, flick up to hers as he grazes his teeth over her skin. He grabs the top of the cups in each hand and pulls them down, making Zena's breasts spill out of the bra. She gasps when he attaches his mouth to her nipple and sucks.

"Oh," she moans when he pinches her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

With a pop, Anakin releases. "Gorgeous fuckin' tits," he says.

"A compliment from the Anakin Skywalker? I'm honored," she teases with a smirk on her lips.

Anakin narrows his eyes at her. "Are you gonna be stubborn this whole time?" he asks.

Zena leans her head against the door, somehow feeling powerful even as she has her tits on display. "Yeah," she smirks.

Anakin reaches behind her body to unclip her bra and he lets it fall to the floor next to her shirt. He then moves to the zipper of her skirt but she stops him.

"Yours off too," she says, tugging at his shirt.

He obliges, revealing that impressive physique she commented about in the interview. His shirt is tossed away and Zena admires his defined muscles and pebbled nipples.

"Can I take off your skirt now, princess?" he asks. The pet name is used sarcastically, but Anakin can tell she liked being called that. Zena nods and Anakin pulls the zipper down and pushes her skirt to her ankles, leaving her in just a pair of delicate panties.

He raises his eyebrows, curious at her choice of undergarments. "Were you expecting this?" he asks smugly.

"Certainly not," she says. Anakin hums, not believing her, but doesn't comment.

"We're gonna play a game, Zena," Anakin says. Though he’s speaking to her, he looks down at her body instead of into her eyes.

"What game?"

Anakin licks his lips. "A choose your own adventure. You tell me your favorite video of mine and we'll recreate it."

Zena thinks it's honestly shocking that Anakin doesn't have devil horns that speak through his curls.

"I don't have a-" Zena starts, but Anakin cuts her off.

"Don't give me that. I know you've seen all of them. You can't tell me none of them got you even a little hot."

Zena is suddenly unable to make eye contact with Anakin. She wasn't intimidated by him during the interview. They were five feet apart, fully clothed, and every time he put her in the hot seat, she could turn it around on him. Here, though, they're inches apart, naked, and there was no way out.

"I liked... the panties one," she says quietly.

Anakin's face lights up, grinning widely with deviousness in his eyes. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Zena shrugs but still doesn’t meet his eyes. “Y’know, you’re breaking the house rules right now.”

Anakin slips his finger under the elastic of Zena’s panties and lets them snap against her skin. She looks up at him finally and bites her lip. “I didn’t know those rules applied to me, too.”

Anakin grasps Zena’s waist and brings her over to the back wall of the closet to stand in front of the mirror. Anakin stands behind her and presses himself against her back. He leans down to press his lips against her ear. “They do if you wanna be one of my girls,” he says.

His hot breath on her neck makes Zena’s skin break out in goosebumps. Anakin chuckles when he feels her shiver in response to his fingertips dragging over her stomach. His hand slips into her panties and he cups her pussy, his large hand covering it entirely. He slips to of his long fingers inside of her and curls them up to press against her sweet spot but he doesn’t move them. Instead, Anakin uses the fingers inside Zena as leverage to push her back against his hips.

“Can you feel my cock, baby?” he asks. “Feel how hard you got me?”

“Yeah,” she replies quietly, looking at her reflection.

“Been teasing me for weeks, acting like you didn’t want me to fuck you like the dirty girl you pretend not to be. Where’d all that fire go?”

Zena leans her head back on Anakin’s shoulder and looks up at him. Her eyes are half-lidded and her lipstick is a little worn off from biting and licking her lips. She looks messy, nothing like how Anakin is used to seeing her. He likes this look, a nice girl turned into an insatiable slut, needy for him.

The way she looks at him is enough to get him to take out his cock. Instead of getting fully undressed, Anakin just undoes his fly and pushes his pants down to his knees. He holds his cock and slaps it against her ass before grinding on her again.

“Anakin,” she whines.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Stop teasing.”

Anakin looks beyond smug. It’s not often he’s faced with someone whom he has to break, so it makes it all the more satisfying that Zena is giving in. “You know what you have to do if you want my dick, Zena,” he says into her ear.

Surprisingly, Zena doesn’t put up a fight this time. “Fuck me, Anakin,” she says.

The words sound so sweet on her lips that they almost make Anakin want to kiss her. As he pushes her panties aside, he wonders what it would be like to kiss her. Would she fight for dominance or would she give in and let him take what he wants? Would she moan into his mouth the same way she’s moaning at the stretch of his cock inside her?

“Do I feel good inside you, baby?” Anakin asks once he’s fully seated inside.

“So good,” she breathes out.

“Your pussy’s gripping me, honey. She needs me that bad?” He asks teasingly as if he didn’t desire her just as much. As if she hasn’t been driving him crazy.

He rocks his hips into her and with every thrust forward, Zena’s face twists with pleasure. Anakin is desperate to give her more, but she hasn’t earned it yet and he refuses to play all of his cards just for some instant gratification. Zena avoids looking at the mirror, her eyes darting everywhere except for directly in front of her, and that just won’t do.

“Look at yourself, baby,” Anakin says. “It’s like you’re watching your own video, right? Virgin Zena Daren Taken by Experienced Anakin Skywalker.”

“I’m not a virgin,” Zena replies with an eye roll, though her annoyed act is shattered by a small moan that escapes her mouth.

“Tight like one,” Anakin smirks. “Tightest I’ve had in fuckin’ forever. The other girls are all used up but you’re nice and fresh for me, right, baby?”

Anakin’s words send shivers up Zena’s spine, though she’s a bit ashamed of it. He’s degrading other women to praise her and she knows it’s wrong, but it makes her feel hot all over. Anakin’s large hands grip her hips, ass, and stomach possessively like she’s his toy to touch and use as he pleases. He presses on her lower stomach, just below her navel, and the pressure combined with the deep thrusts of his cock make her knees weak.

Looking into the mirror, Zena can see the intense look in his eyes. She’s seen it before in his videos, but she thought it was all acting. Maybe it is, but seeing it for herself makes it seem real and it’s intimidating.

“A-Anakin,” she stutters out between moans.

“Yeah, princess?”

“I need it harder.”

Something unrecognizable flashes in Anakin’s eyes. Before Zena can realize what’s happening, Anakin’s arms are wrapped around her middle and he thrusts up into her. Her body shakes with the force of it and she’s unable to do anything but moan as he takes her.

“This hard enough for you?” Anakin asks, now sounding more breathless from the exertion. “You wanna be mine? I’ll make you fucking mine.”

His voice is borderline a growl as he uses Zena’s body. She feels like the girls in the videos: useless, dumb little toys for Anakin to use. He’s rough and relentless with his claiming of her body and she loves it. She’s not usually one for this kind of treatment, but she had no idea how much she needed it until now.

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me how fuckin’ good it is,” he demands.

“So good,” she gasps.

It amuses Anakin that he was able to reduce her to so few words after she gave him a run for his money during the interviews. Zena opens her eyes and through her slightly foggy glasses, she can see the fucked-out expression on her face. She’s never seen herself this way before and as humiliating as it is, she’s getting closer to the edge of orgasm.

Zena slips her hand under her panties to rub at her clit. Surprisingly, Anakin doesn’t bat her hand away and take over for her. He encourages her to touch herself so she can cum on his cock.

“Touch yourself for me, princess. You play with your little clit like this when you watch my videos? Doing all that research must tire your hands out, huh?”

Anakin runs his mouth like he’s getting paid to do it, though that is what he’s used to. His breathing is ragged in Zena’s ear but she can’t hear it over the sound of her own. They’re both close; Zena is desperately chasing her high with the firm press of her fingers on her clit while Anakin is trying to hold off so she can finish first.

“I’m cumming!” Zena announces with a high-pitched, broken voice. Anakin can feel her walls clenching around his cock, trying to milk him. Just as he’s about to cum, a wave of panic hits him. He doesn’t know if Zena’s on any kind of birth control. Pulling out isn’t something Anakin has to think about, but he manages to just in time.

He groans as he jerks himself off to completion over her ass. Hot, sticky ropes of cum land on her skin while she’s still riding out her pleasure on her fingers. Cumming from fucking his fist doesn’t satisfy Anakin as much as unloading into her would, but something is better than nothing.

Anakin’s head lolls back as he catches his breath and Zena goes limp against his chest. Luckily he still has enough strength to hold them both up. Zena wipes her hand off on her thigh, then adjusts her hair and straightens her glasses, trying to make herself look a bit more proper and put together. When they both regain their composure, they separate and without even looking at Anakin, Zena grabs her clothes from the floor and begins to redress.

“Hey,” Anakin says, stopping her by grabbing her wrist. “What’s the rush?” Zena makes a face at him and shakes his hand off. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna treat me like your dirty little secret now,” he says playfully.

Zena sighs as she steps into her skirt and pulls it back up, then reaches for her discarded bra. While she redresses, Anakin pulls up his pants and fastens them, but remains shirtless. “You don’t strike me as the cuddling type,” she says.

Anakin huffs a laugh. “And here I thought I fucked the brat out of you.”

He doesn’t bother hiding how he watches her stuff herself back inside her bra. Zena then slips her arms into her blouse and starts to button it, but Anakin stops her before she can get to the top. She cocks her head to the side and looks at him questioningly.

“If you ever want a job, I can pull a few strings. You’d add a sense of authenticity to the series,” he says.

Zena scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “And we’re right back to business, huh?”

“I’m just saying,” Anakin steps into her space and puts his hands on her hips. “I don’t fuck for free, and I know that greedy cunt’s gonna be needing more of me.” He’s smirking proudly like the arrogant diva he is.

“I know this must be hard for you to believe, but I’ll be just fine without your dick,” she retorts, mirroring his smug expression.

“Sweetheart,” he grins. “I got you hooked. You can deny yourself all you want but you’re gonna be dreaming about me.”

Zena pushes Anakin’s hands off her and collects the rest of her belongings from the floor before straightening up to face Anakin head-on. She looks perfectly proper again, save for the two buttons not fastened at the top of her shirt. It gets under Anakin’s skin a bit that he wasn’t able to wreck her beyond repair.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Skywalker,” Zena says using her professional voice as she extends her hand for him to shake.

Anakin bites the inside of his cheek and smirks slightly as he grasps her hand. “Yes, you will, Miss Daren.”

Zena turns on her heel once Anakin lets go and exits the closet without looking back. Anakin doesn’t see the wink she gives the camera mounted by the ceiling as she leaves the bedroom. When he hears the front door close, he sighs heavily. Yeah, he fucked her, but he wanted to break her open and catch a glimpse at all the things she’s buried deep inside her so no one could find them. Everyone else lays themselves bare for Anakin, but Zena is the only person he’d had to work on in years.

He’ll see her again in a week, and he already knows he’s going to turn the teasing up to hopefully convince her to fuck him again. He talked a big game about Zena wanting more, but it might be Anakin who’s addicted. Not to the sex, per se, but the chase of a woman who’s won’t give herself up to him.

if you enjoyed this fic, please give it a reblog because it encourages writers to keep producing content. also, please check out @hanasnx's masterlist because they have so many amazing fics and they are a great person. thank you so much for reading!

#anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker x oc #anakin x oc #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x female oc #hayden christensen

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flamingskull28 · 1 month

Text

Dear 4

I have noticed in our time as friends how much we differ from each other. You are energetic and bubbly and I am often reserved yet we complement each other so well.

While you are the comforting warmth of the sun, I am the cold drowsiness of the moon.

You are a hot scorching desert with no power, I am the fringed chills of the artic planes.

If you can defeat an army with pure brute strength and skill, I can take the out one at a time without a whisper being heard.

and if you, my dear 4, are a bright beacon who shines their light to all and spreads warmth and joy without discrimination then I am a lost soul in the dark, wanting only to be engulfed by your light.

Maybe you don't understand or maybe you do... but what I really mean by all this is a question. 4 will you go ou-

---

"Heya 8, you've been in here for hours. I'm getting worried." 4 said startling 8 and making the poor octoling fumble and stutter, not helped by how close 4 was. 8 quickly hide the paper behind her.

"I've- well.. I've uh j-just been writing. A-A poem, nothing s-special." 8 really hoped her face covering blush could be taken as from suprise.

"Oh, really!?" 4 said with a light in her eyes that made 8's hearts skip a beat. "Can I see, your work is always amazing." 4's smile was so genuine and curious that it took all of 8's power to resist.

"Uh it's a w-work in progress.. Once I-I'm done I'll show you." 8 really wished she'd have the courage, but the trash can next to her desk with a stack of discarded papers overflowing out of it didn't make that seem likely.

"Hmmm, aw fine. I guess I can wait.." 4 sighed but still kept her chripy mood "Anyway, you've been in here all day. I got a movie for us to watch!"

"I-I kinda wanna finish this-" 8 was cut off as 4 grabbed her hand instantly destroying any train of thought the poor lesbian had.

"Pleaseeeeeeee, it's so empty around the house when you're not out there with me. I wanna talk and watch a movie with you. I bought your favorite chips and drinks just so we could." 4's eyes were that of puppies in cuteness and sadness but like a knife in how they cut deep inside her more than the whole of the metro did. 8's hearts physically pained seeing 4 so upset, a small part of 8 felt honored that 4 enjoyed her presence so much but.... seeing 4's frown was a poison to 8's very soul that coursed further through her veins every second it existed.

"Don't feel like you have to... i-it's okay if you *sniff* don't wann-"

"NO! I-I do want to watch the movie! Please do not be upset, I haven't been getting anywhere with my poems anyway." 8 begged and pleaded in her head for 4 to smile again for her body may not be able to handle seeing the frown any longer.

"R-Really? I was starting to think I-I was annoying you with wanting to hang out all the time..." 4's frown vanished but her heavenly smile refused to grace 8 once more.

"No, 4 you never annoy me. Never! Now then what movie are we watching?" 8 smiled and she was instantly met with the wide tooth grin of 4. The poison in her veins vanished from this power and 8 felt at ease again. Even if her hearts were beating twice as fast and her face felt so hot, she would not be surprised if it melted off any second now.

"It's that Five days at franks... or whatever it was called movie! I've heard a lot about it being good! I really hope we-" 4 rambled for a moment, an all too often occurrence that entranced 8 the same it had the first hundred times, but she managed to find enough will power to grab her pencil and finish writing the poem.

Stuffing it in her back pocket, 8 walked over to 4 and gestured for them to go to the tv. 4 nodded and grabbed her hand, still rambling her theories while dragging 8 over. Unawake of the blush her action was causing.

regardless 8 quickly settled in, sitting next to 4 on the couch as close as she could manage without seeming to weird. She wanted to be close but she could settl-

As if reading 8's mind 4 grabbed her and pulled her close. Leaning on the octolings and cuddling up to her should while starting the movie. 8 felt her blush burn brighter, her gaze turned to the inkling who watched the screen intently. Making occasional comments but seeming content with snuggling up to 8. A smile joined the blush on 8's face and a thought her brain never considered arrived. Could 4 like her back?

8 considered what to do with this thought, maybe it was best to keep it to her-.... No this had gone on too long.

"Hey 4?" the inkling turned to look at her, still not moving her head from 8's arm "Do you want to see the poem I was working on?"

#splatoon #agent 4 #agent 8 #agent 32 #writers on tumblr #splatoon writing

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miamierre · 7 months

Note

Model and Designer for piarles 😘🙏

20. model and designer

Pierre can't sleep.

It's becoming a habit, which is not boding well for his stomach lining considering how much more coffee he's been drinking because of that fact. Pierre just...can't sleep. There's not much he can really attribute it to, except for maybe the fact that he's a few months out from the big debut of his whole new fashion line--the latest Louis offshoot he'd been fortunate enough to helm. This is years of his life at stake: all that school and groundwork, all the bleeding and pricking and crying he'd done to find himself here, surrounded by fabric swatches laid out haphazardly at the desk kitty-cornered in his bedroom. There are stacks of photos and torn-up magazines out on his kitchen counter. His whole apartment is now a perfect parallel to his workplace: covered in ideas, wall-to-wall.

Hm. Maybe that's why he's becoming an insomniac.

Instead of paying the thought any more attention, though, Pierre slips out of bed and pads over to his desk chair, grabs the nearest sketchbook of his and flips to a blank page. It's not quite dawn, but there's more light than there was a few hours ago--enough to see what he'd left behind.

Charles is out cold. Completely asleep, drool and all. He looks innocent in ways that no photographer would ever be able to capture: forehead smoothed out with sleep, body curled in on itself slightly in the absence of someone next to him. Pierre gazes at him, sketchbook heavy in his hands, and feels the guilt in his stomach like a knife. He'd only invited his lead model over tonight for a review of their plans for the first walk-through with the clothes. (They have to move right, after all: Pierre needs to see his work from all angles in motion before he can be comfortable putting it on stage, even for a dress rehearsal.)

He hadn't planned for two bottles of wine. He certainly hadn't planned for Charles in his lap, warm and pliant and so, so easy as Pierre had given him direction: take this off and open your mouth and hands and knees. The memory of it makes Pierre's throat tight. So good for me, he'd mumbled after, mouth pressing just under Charles' ear, and the yes sir he'd gotten back had thrown him right out of his own mind.

He grips the sketchbook tighter. There's no way this can ever happen again, he knows--once is a mistake and he'll keep it that way.

From the bed, Charles snores lightly. It's a soft sound: sweet, almost. Pierre's chest is so tight he swears he must've forgotten how to breathe.

"Oh, Charlie," he whispers to the quiet of the room, "what have I done?" Nothing good, he's certain. Pencil in hand, Pierre tries to redirect his thoughts to the work laid out on the desk behind him--dresses with angular cuts, wide-arm sleeves, the jagged lines of a belt that's been nagging at the back of his mind since he'd axed the last round of the designs from his main book.

What he ends up with is this: Charles, in charcoal, curled up in his expensive sheets. The most damning evidence of his lapse in judgment, and he can't even bring himself to rip the sketch to shreds because it feels like a waste--a waste of beauty, even if it's a beauty he can't have.

#TY BB i cant wait to answer ur other ideas hee hee <3 #btw i have no idea WHAT this is please excuse me yet again #piarles #10 x 16 #fic #romance prompt meme #ask reply #teamnick

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sillicii · 1 month

Text

✦ — 18+ Chatbot | Kylar the Loner — ✦

✦ — ᴅᴏʟ | ᴋʏʟᴀʀ | 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 (𝐲𝐞𝐭) — ✦

ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ | ɴsғᴡ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ | ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs | sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅɪɴɢ sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀssᴀᴜʟᴛ, ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴘᴇ ᴄᴡ: NON-CON, yandere, kidnapping, torture, breeding kink, knife-play Kylar is from the text-based sandbox game Degree of Lewdity. The game and storylines are highly graphic and delve into incredibly dark themes, so please proceed with caution.

Character Description:

First message:

Today had been a good day.

Kylar spent the entire day with his crush. Watching her from afar, snapping pictures as she went on with her day, and of course making sure she got back to the orphanage safe when it got dark. The town was full of dangerous weirdos and he could not let anything happen to her. Not on his watch and if something were to happen then he would be more than happy to come to her rescue. Anything to protect what was his and it would not hurt his chances to finally give him a chance to introduce himself to her…

It has been about a month since he met her and he had spent every waking moment thinking about her. How beautiful she looked when she knelt over him and asked if he was okay. How she smiled flawlessly at him before returning to her group of friends and scolding the boy that had shoved Kylar over. Beautiful and kind. Kylar was instantly smitten and he had decided that she will become his… one way or another.

The manor felt deadly still when he returned. A gust of air blew into the hollow reception parlour as he slammed the door behind him, causing the dust particles to fly into the air and Kylar crinkled his nose momentarily before heading upstairs. The place was filthy despite how much Kylar tried to keep it tidy, but he struggled with a house of this size and his parents has moved permanently into their bedroom since the… incident. So it wasn’t like he had anyone to impress… Well perhaps his crush… He had planned on bringing her over after all… But that was still in the works and he would cross that bridge once he reached it.

For now, he had pictures to develop and another pair of soiled panties to add to his growing shrine. After he checked on his parents and laid out some food for them, he headed into his bedroom and began unpacking his rucksack. First came the camera, the cannisters of homemade pepper-sprays, his sketchbook, the dagger… and finally his prize.

Pulling out the crumpled pair of panties carefully, he examined them with reverence and gave them another whiff, letting out a deep groan as his senses were overwhelmed by everything her. Kylar headed over to the makeshift shrine he was building next to his desk and gently placed the panties next to the others he had taken. He took a moment to admire his collection – used and fresh underwear, used napkins, pencils, medication, photographs of every kind. Reminded of the new rolls of film he had to develop, he turned back to his bed to retrieve his camera only to stop in his tracks when he came face to face with a stranger… You.

“Who-”

Before he had the chance to voice his question, you had pounced onto him, knocking him flat on the ground. The pain was sudden and excruciating. The room was spinning and it was seconds before Kylar’s brain began to orientate itself, but it was already too late by the time he was able to make sense of his surroundings.

As he tried to refocus his eyes, he blinked back up at your unfamiliar face and panicked slightly when he discovered you not only straddled him but also somehow cuffed his hands to the bedframe’s post and was now pointing a dagger into his neck. His dagger.

Kylar was seething with anger.

“W-Who the hell are you?” he growled, pulling at the restraints as he tried to buck you off. “Get off me!”

Kylar struggled back but he was at a great disadvantage even if you did not look that much older or stronger than himself. Perhaps you were another student? Kylar was sure he had no recollection of ever seeing you before though, he would have remembered a face like yours, because you were… attractive. No. No. Now was not that time for that. For all he knew, you could be some crazy freak off the street and the gears in his head ran overtime as he combed through every possible explanation and reason to why an attractive stranger would want to hurt him.

It was that moment when he saw your face. Kylar froze at the sight. The pinkish flush that dotted across your cheeks. The heated intensity in which you gazed down at him. The subtle curl of your pretty lips as you smiled back down at him.

No way.

Could this… Could this person be like… him?

Scenario:

{{user}} has a crush on Kylar and is incredibly jealous of his obsession with another student. Kylar is completely blindsided by the fact someone likes him and is in shock, unable to process {{user}}'s feelings. Kylar recognises the hypocrisy in his reluctance and fear towards you.

Example dialogue:

{{char}}: Kylar’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet as he watched you unbuckle his belt and undo his trousers. “W-Wait, stop! Y-You can’t just-.” {{char}}: “G-Get off of me! You can’t just come in here and…” he winced as you pressed the blade deeper into his neck, almost breaking skin. {{char}}: Kylar’s brain was going into overdrive. There was just no way. No way. He already had someone he liked! Someone he loved! Someone he had dedicated himself to, so why… why is he suddenly feeling conflicted?! {{char}}: “Ahhh, oh my god,” he gasped at the sight of your head bobbing up and down his cock. “Nooo, m-my first time is meant to be for- Ahhhh…!” A particularly noisy slurp silenced him and he was instantly overcome by what must be the most wonderful thing he has ever felt in his life. {{char}}: “No, I seriously don’t remember your name…” Kylar huffed, tears nearly falling from his glossy eyes. “I-I’m sorry… J-Just tell me again and I’ll remember it. I swear.”

#janitor ai #chatbot #my-bot #dol #degrees of lewdity #dol chatbot #my-bots #kylar #kylar the loner #dol kylar #degrees of lewdity kylar #kylar chatbot

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lowkeyrobin · 2 months

Note

Hello I was wondering if you’d be able to write a Ranboo x Gender neutral reader that’s struggling with self harm/depression (only if you’re comfortable with writing something like this, I’d not I completely understand) :)

hi!! thank you for the request! ; and I'm totally okay with writing this, considering I'm fully healed from my very depressive middle school state and the only things bothering me haven't hurt me that much in a long time 🫶 I hope that you're doing okay anon 🫶🫶🫶

RANBOO ; it's okay to not be okay

summary ; ranboo does his best to help you while you struggle with depression

warnings ; language, talk of self harm & depression, talk about relapsing, mentions of ED

genre ; angst/fluff

word count ; 627

masterlist

he'd known for a while that you were struggling and even suggested taking a break/breaking up if you needed it as to not overwhelm you with managing a relationship

obviously you didn't want too

but that came with a negotiation that he was going to genuinely help you no matter what

literally came over after a stream, like 9pmish and went straight to your bathroom

they got a little trash bag and threw out all the razor blades in your house, like looked everywhere, tore the whole place up to even get secret stashes

you followed and watched them do this, fearing they'd yell at you afterwards because they were totally silent while doing so

they also stashed the knives in a drawer with a child lock which you genuinely couldn't open, using the smart logic to use a butter knife if you needed to cut something up

if you were making food and needed to cut up meat, call him and he'd open it for you, considering you lived like 5 minutes away from each other

after he threw all the razors and pencil sharpeners and anything you didn't need that could hurt you away, he sits you down on the couch

you have a long talk about how you need to stop hurting yourself and you talk about safe self harm

from coloring on your body, listening to music really loudly, experiment with guided imagery, holding ice, punching a pillow/cushion instead of yourself, eating sour/spicy candy, etc

they're just trying to give you safe alternatives to substitute the actual harming tactics because they know you won't be able to quit immediately

every week you have a long talk about your feelings, how you're doing, etc so ranboo can determine how to help you/get an idea of how you've been doing

you talk to him frequently that you're worried about relapsing and hurting yourself somehow, from cutting to slapping or punching yourself

if you run to him thinking you're gonna hurt yourself, he wraps you in a hug and doesn't let you go until you feel more calm

frequently sends you texts to uplift you a bit and make you smile

sometimes you'll just have tight hugs on the couch where he just talks to you to get your mind off of everything and make you a little happy and joke around

usually takes you on long walks to clear your head if you express being stressed or very upset about something

he gets you on a nice healthy diet and helps you not under/overeat and possibly give yourself an ed

also helps you get into a routine to feel more clean and organized

refers you to therapy and towards yoga/working out

they'll happily do yoga or work out with you, 100%

anytime you smile, he just looks at you with like love in his eyes because he's clearly doing something right

loves taking you out into nature to listen to the birds singing and smell the fresh air, he can tell it does wonders for you

loves bird watching with you too

he'll find a show with like 7+ seasons for you to watch together so you can get interested/fixated on something and think about that more then your fear of hurting yourself or relapsing

in general they'll do whatever it is to help you cope, knowing they can't magically make you feel any better

so supportive as well

when you reach sobriety milestones (a month, two months, three months, six months, a year etc) he throws a little party

over time all your friends get more and more proud of you and show that well

ran however is definitely the most proud, seeing as you'd found a way to overcome the pain that tormented you

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #ranboo x reader #ranboo oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

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steponmeinejghafa · 1 year

Text

Little Crow Pt.2

Summary: Inej teaches you how to fight with knives, you and Kaz share a very important moment of vulnerability, which also marked an important milestone for the pair of you.

Age: 8

---

You'd lived with the Crows for two years now. Two years of glorious fun, being feared, causing mayhem, learning a thing or two about surviving in the Barrel. Truly, this was the life. Sure, there we complications, but hey, nothing's perfect.

One day, you were humming to yourself, happily walking up the stairs to Kaz's office, because you wanted to ask him something and, frankly, you were bored.

You stopped at the door when you heard the voices of all the Crows speaking in hushed tones, so you concentrated and tried your best to figure out what they were saying.

"Old enough..." came Inej's voice.

"She's a child, you lunatics..." ah, there was Nina.

"She should be able to defend herself if she gets mugged," Jesper said. He suddenly yelped when you heard a 'thud', Wylan probably having hit him.

"What kind of psycho would mug an eight year old!?" Exclaimed Nina.

You heard the thump of Kaz's cane and tried to escape, but were promptly caught by the collar of your shirt with the crow's beak, as the man pulled you into the room.

"Looks like we've got a spy," he said, ushering you inside.

Inej, as usual, was perched at the windowsill, Nina was flustered and annoyed in the middle of the room, Jesper sat atop a table, Wylan seated between his legs on a chair.

"It's not spying if you live here," you countered.

"Seems like you've been taking comeback lessons from Nina," Jesper rolled his eyes. He glanced at Nina, "You know, I liked it better when she'd fumble over her words and then just say 'same to you'."

"She doesn't need you bullying her, Jes," replied Inej.

"Ah well, now that Y/n is here, we might as well say it. She should be the one to decide," said Kaz. He looked at you and asked, "Do you want to learn how to wield a weapon, little crow?

You gasped and grinned, nodding, "Yes! I want to learn how to fight with knives like Auntie Nej."

"It's settled then," said Jesper, playing with Wylan's hair. "She's going to be a soundless, knife-wielding Wraith Junior."

Inej chucked a pencil at him, which she'd clearly been fiddling with previously.

"First of all, there can only be one Wraith. If Y/n wants to emulate her, Inej can teach you to fight with knives," said Kaz, nodding. "And, if you'd like, Jesper can teach you how to shoot."

"Yeeeeeessss." You laughed gleefully, before holding up your hand, fingers outstretched for Kaz to press his gloved fingers against yours. This was the pair of yours' way of hugging, without the actual hugging part, but it worked for both of you.

So, your training began three days later.

"Okay, now keep a nice, wide stance so that you have some free movement, kind of like a boxing stance, you know?" Inej instructed, nudging your foot back with hers to fix your position.

She then handed you a pair of knives, and said, "Now, hold the knives in a reverse grip," she showed you how, "And now I'll show you some basic defenses and attacks."

An hour passed, then another, and another, till you'd gotten the basic hang of how to use dual knives.

Unfortunately, you kept practising after she’d gone, and while trying another technique Inej had showed you, your left knife slipped and cut you clean across the forearm. It added to the numerous little nicks you had gotten in the past hour, but those didn’t burn as much as this one did.

"Ow!" you winced, placing the knives down carefully before running off to find Inej.

When the Wraith saw you with blood dripping down your forearm as well as the little cuts everywhere else, she spit out her coffee and gasped in shock, scolding you in rapid Suli.

“What did I tell you, you’re not skilled enough to practice unsupervised? This is what I was trying to prevent!” She exclaimed, as you held your bleeding arm out gingerly.

"I’m sorry, Auntie Nej, but please fix it, I want to try again!" You whined back in Suli, confusing Jesper, who’d walked in at that exact moment.

"No," said Inej, taking your arm and inspecting the cut. They were not all quite deep in your tender skin, but the one on your forearm was, so she naturally was worried. “Come with me, little crow.”

“Are we going to Auntie Nina?” You asked eagerly, loving the presence of the young Heartrender, who always had a tin of chocolate biscuits ready for you.

“No,” said Inej, “Only little crows who’ve not disobeyed my direct orders can go to Auntie Nina and her chocolate biscuits.” She took you by the uninsured arm to the bathroom, bathing the cut very lovingly but still scolding you all the same.

Nina had to resist the urge to laugh hysterically, when she walked in on a rapid torrent of Suli, one from Inej in a chiding tone, and one from you in a whiny, little-girl’s voice.

“You know, you’re patching her up so lovingly and scolding her so harshly, I think the she’s getting confused,” the Heartrender chuckled, letting you sit on her lap after Inej had cleaned all your cuts and had placed you on the rug. “Isn’t that right, little crow?”

You nodded and giggled at Inej’s shocked expression, before you leapt off Nina’s lap to try and make a run for it. You wanted to get back to training, but clearly neither woman wanted that to happen.

Nina was quick to catch you, and Inej went off to hide your knives till the next day.

“Auntie Nina,” you whined, “Let me go, please!”

Nina chuckled and shook her head, “If you get hurt again, little crow, you won’t be able to train for a long time. You don’t want that, do you?”

You gasped, absolutely horrified at the idea of not being able to do your new favourite thing.

Resisting the urge to laugh again at your reaction, Nina decided it would be a good idea to distract you, and take you for a snack at one of the stalls down the road.

However, she was suddenly called by Kaz, who needed her for something, so she left you in the care of Jesper and Wylan.

Both of them took you to a little tea shop for an evening snack, and it was a place you always went with either Nina or Jesper when you got hungry in the evenings.

“So, I hear you got hurt today, little crow,” chuckled Jesper, playing around with his guns, as your eyes stayed riveted on them.

“Did Auntie Nina tell everyone?!” You rolled your eyes, trying your best to look exasperated.

“I mean, the bandage is pretty prominent is all,” said Jesper. “Maybe you should stick to hand-to-hand combat.”

“Uncle Jes!” You gasped in annoyance, glaring at him while you stuffed another piece of apple pie in your mouth. To be honest, Jesper was like an annoying older brother. He was constantly bullying you, and never hesitated to rile you up.

Wylan patted your head and smiled, “Don’t listen to him. You know he loves to bully you.”

You simply huffed and glared at Jesper across the table, before talking animatedly with Wylan about how you could make a glitter bomb to prank Nina.

Later that evening, you were lounging on Katz’s bed, reading a storybook Wylan had given you, when you heard your favourite person’s cane hit the ground.

You completely forgot that no one had told Kaz about your little incident with the knives, so you were confused when his stern glare dropped to a look of concern as his eyes landed on your bandaged arm.

“What happened, little crow?” He asked, trying to keep the emotion in his voice to a minimum.

You frowned at him, confused, before he tapped gently above the bandage with his cane. “Oh,” you said, “That. I was trying out something new that Auntie Nej taught me, and the knife accidentally slipped.”

Kaz breathed a sigh of relief. Good that he didn’t have to beat up and/or kill any person who dared lay a hand on you. As much as he loved a good round of bloodshed, he was too tired to do it that day.

“So,” he said as you sat atop his bed comfortably, and he began to shuffle through some letters. “What all did you do today?”

“Well, I practiced a lot, and I went for a snack with Uncle Jes and Uncle Wylan. So that was pretty fun. Um…Auntie Nej scolded me cause of the getting hurt thing, but that’s okay. I learned a lot of new Suli words!” You narrated excitedly.

“You learned new words from a scolding?” Kaz asked in a mock-incredulous tone, but your little mind didn’t notice the mock part.

“Yep!” You grinned. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“That’s good to hear, little crow,” smiled Kaz. “It’s a little late, why don’t you go to sleep? I’ll change your bandage for you and then you can tack yourself in.”

“Okay,” you grinned, grabbing the medicine box from the cabinet carefully, and handing it to him. You then skipped over to the little bed Kaz had gotten made for you in the corner, not too far from his bed. You did have a constant need for one of the crows to be near you, which, in their opinion, was quite cute.

Kaz took a moment to compose himself, and took off his gloves, which made your eyes go wide.

“I can ask Auntie Nej to change my bandages!” You exclaimed.

“No, little crow,” said Kaz. “It’s been two years. I should be able to atleast make sure your wounds don’t get infected.”

“But you hate skin on skin contact!” You replied, keeping your arm away from him.

He laughed softly, pulling your arm close to him. He took a sharp breath in as he felt your tender skin on his bare hands, but shook the feeling away as he snipped away your bandage.

He redressed your wound and made sure it was tight enough before pulling on his gloves with a sigh of relief.

You leapt forward and hugged him, your head in his shoulder so that your hair tickled his neck, and your arms went around his torso.

He kept his arms stiffly at his sides, unable to think as to what to do if this happened. He appreciated your effort to keep close to zero contact directly to his skin, and so he settled for a gentle pat on your back.

Kaz then leaned over to tuck you in, and you reached to grab the book you’d been reading, shuffling around so that he could scoot the stool beside your bed to sit on, closer. He took the book and saw the cover. ‘Stories of Our Saints’, it read.

“Seems like Inej has you religiously influenced,” he sighed.

“I like the stories,” you said. “I don’t follow the religion as carefully as she does. She found it at a bookstore when she was in the Universi District! I think she stole it from there. It’s got the origin story of Sankta Alina!”

“Ah well,” he nodded, opening the book to where you’d marked it. It was a story of Sankta Neyar, the wielder of Neshyenyer. “Doesn’t hurt to read a chapter, I guess.”

He then began reading, trying to draw out the story and make you sleepy. He succeeded, for after he finished reading to you about Neyar fighting the clockwork army for three days and nights, he noticed you yawning.

“Time to sleep, little crow,” he said, closing the book.

“But you didn’t finish the story…” you whined, rubbing your eyes with your fists.

“We can finish the rest tomorrow,” he said, placing the book away. “Now, the only thing I want to see is you sleeping soundly, without reading by candlelight.”

You took his gloved hand in yours and gave it a squeeze, knowing he didn’t like skin-on-skin contact. He smiled a little at you and ruffled your hair, letting you snuggle into the blanket.

You held his finger for a moment too long, which gave him the sense that you wanted to ask him something.

“What’s the matter, little crow?” He asked.

“Will you be there for me whenever I get hurt?” You asked, e/c eyes wide with innocence.

“Of course,” said Kaz. “Always.”

“Without the gloves?” You asked.

He hesitated, but nevertheless nodded, “Without the gloves, my little crow.”

You smiled and let go of his hand, holding the crow stuffed animal Jesper and Wylan painstakingly stitched for you to your chest. Sleepy beyond belief, you didn’t register what happened, nor did you have control of the words which left your lips.

“Goodnight, Papa,” you said quietly, drifting off to sleep.

Kaz had to inhale deeply to stop himself from making any loud sound that would potentially wake you up, and settled for patting your head and whispering, “Goodnight, my little crow.”

Later on, of course, Inej was subject to an hour of him ranting to her about how he will forever protect your pure and precious soul from the cruelties of the world.

———

Hiii! It’s me, Anne! I hope you liked this post <3 please give it some love, thanks!!

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gazs-blue-hat · 2 months

Text

Chapter 3 of my King Johnny MacTavish x Siren Reader!

Warnings: mild mentions of a brewing conflict. Political strife. (If I missed anything, please let me know)

AN: Dedicated once more to @sprout-fics who enables all my winding Johnny thoughts.

Word count: 2,170

The winter months had parted ways for spring a few weeks after Johnny had gone out on the water alone. The icicles on the castle had started to thaw, filling the air with the soft sounds of dripping water and the occasional crack of ice giving way. The people in the town below had started their springtime gardens, working the soil with their tools to plant seeds that would eventually grow to nourish their families come fall. The children had started running about outside once more, their squeals and laughter flowing like a joyous river through the valley.

Johnny wasn’t able to enjoy the spring. He wasn’t able to feel the warm sun on his face, or listen to the children that were playing. He wasn’t able to even watch the icicles dripping outside his windows. He was stuck sitting in some delegation meeting with his council. He sat restlessly in his chair, feeling the plush blue fabric under his fingers crease as he tightened his grip on the armrest. He wasn’t built for this! He wasn’t meant to sit in on political affairs like trade negotiations and which of his neighbors wanted more land or…

“Your highness? Are you feeling alright?” His spymaster had paused her briefing to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. He perked up, straightening his posture that had been distinctly unkingly. He cleared his throat and nodded, looking down at the map before him. He recognized the kingdoms before him, and he frowned as he saw the lines that had been drawn on the parchment.

The skirmishes in the south have been steadily growing more and more intense. That particular nation had always been hungry for conflict, and they above all else desired the small nation that Johnny had found himself king of. The spymaster had been giving him a report on the subtle events occurring in the courts to the South and he had spent it daydreaming.

“I’m alright Kate. Please continue.” He watched as Kate nodded and began to gesture once more at the map, speaking on the recent union between two families in the southern court. Johnny did his best to pay attention, even going so far as grabbing a piece of parchment to write notes on. He did well, at first, listing a few ideas he had to perhaps smooth things over. He knew that the southern lands were locked from the sea, perhaps he could open his ports and allow them to launch ships from his territories on the sea.

“What if we opened the river to them? Allowed their trade ships to exit there and to the ocean?” His statement caused the people gathered at the table to freeze and look at him. Kate straightened for a moment and looked down at the map, nodding to herself. His military officer, a man named John Price, shifted in his seat, his plate armor clicking softly as he puffed on the cigar in his mouth. “I don’t see why not. We have outposts on the rivers near the largest settlements. If anything happened, we’d know about it in minutes.” The gruff man looked at Johnny and nodded his approval.

Johnny smiled to himself, pleased that he had come up with a solution to a possible problem. He wasn’t not intelligent. He knew the seas as well as the fish themselves, and could maneuver a massive ship in the middle of a firefight. He could muster a crew so fearless that they were willing to face the coldest and most dangerous seas with him. He was intelligent, just not…politically intelligent.

Johnny picked up his pencil again, the tip dulling from the notes he had been scribbling. He picked up a knife and sharpened the tip, not really paying attention to what was being said until there was a quiet mention of her. He coughed and the tip of the knife slipped, catching against the callused end of his thumb. He cursed and shook the appendage, slipping a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it to the wound. It was only then that he noticed all eyes were on him.

“Alright there Johnny?” His knight captain, the perpetually helmed giant of a man leaned forward, head tilting to the side as he inspected his king. Johnny nodded, grumbling under his breath. “I’m fine, I’m fine. What was that you were just mentioning?”

The tradmaster sighed and crossed his arms, looking a bit concerned but also irritated. “Ships, MacTavish! Ships. Smaller trading vessels belonging to the eastern kingdoms have been going missing! Shipments of luxury goods haven’t been making it to their destinations and the magisters wanted to know if the same thing was happening to us.” Johnny never liked that man, his face always twisted in a scowl.

“I would have assumed you would know about this already, seeing as you can’t tear your gaze away from the sea for ten bloody minutes.” Johnny turned and gently whacked his other advisor, Kyle Garrick, on the arm.

“Shut yer mouth! You know as well as I do the stories about the sea! If ye don't-“ Kyle interrupted him by waving away his comment, a smile on his face. “I know, I know. But it does draw into question a few things. Who’s out there hunting ships? It sure as hell isn’t us, and the most aggressive state is landlocked.” Kyle leaned back and looked at Kate, who shrugged and looked at Price, who then exhaled a plume of smoke and looked at the surgeon. The surgeon shrugged and looked over at Johnny who was doodling on the paper before him.

“Johnny? Are you paying attention?” The words of the surgeon snapped him out of his drawing and he looked up, blushing slightly. Price sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got to get a grip on this obsession son. You haven’t been sleeping and your attention span is out the window.” Price sighed heavily and stood, chair groaning against the wooden floor as he pushed back.

“We can implement the shipping idea that his majesty gave us. That should buy us enough time to figure out more of a permanent solution to the conflict and the sinking ships.” Price’s words were strong in the chamber, spurring the others into action. Kate gathered the maps with the help of Kyle, the Knight Captain and the Surgeon snuffed the candles while Johnny stood and gathered his notes. As people filed out, Johnny nodded and mumbled his thanks for their patience and his assurance that he would be back to normal soon.

Soon it was just himself and Price sitting in the dimly lit room, a single candle illuminating their faces. Johnny rested his head in his hands, shaking it gently. “That was a shite meeting and you know it.” Price’s grumbling baritone echoed off the stone walls, filling Johnny with more shame than he already felt.

“Aye…I know. I just…” he looked up, a pleading expression on his face. “Can’t you do this? Take the crown and rule in my stead? I don’t mind abdication, in fact I’m all for it! I ju-“ Price cut him off by exhaling deeply, a cough settling in his chest.

“You know I can’t. You know the laws of the land, your birthright-“

“I dinnae care about that! I just want to see the sea again! I never wanted this life and you know it! You were with me on that fuckin’ ship! You know what happened and what I had to-“ Price slammed his hands down on the table, interrupting Johnny’s train of thought.

“It doesn’t bloody well matter what you wanted! You’re here now and no amount of bitching and moaning will get you anywhere!” Price stood, pushing in his chair and stalking over to the seated king. He leaned close to Johnny’s ear, his fingers plucking the cigar out of his mouth so he could speak unobstructed. “You need to get your head on straight Johnny, before someone comes up here and takes it from you.”

Price stood, gripped Johnny’s shoulder tightly and then exited the room, leaving Johnny alone with his thoughts. With a heavy sigh he reached into his pocket and pulled the pouch of scales from inside. He removed one and rubbed it between his fingers, feeling the tension leave his shoulders almost immediately. The scale seemed to glimmer from an internal light, something he was desperately missing in his life.

Johnny stood up himself, heading to the balcony that had been left open during the meeting. The salty sea breeze flowed into the room, tousling his hair and almost pulling him to the slickened stone. He stepped out into the cobbles, resting his forearms on the salted stones. The ocean was particularly boisterous today, acting almost playful as the wind pushed the waves into breaking over the rocky surf.

He thought back to what Price had said and he frowned. His old friend was right. He needed to let go of the past and start living in the present. He placed the small scale back in the pouch and sinched it closed. He then drew back his arm and tossed the bag as hard as he possibly could, watching it soar through the air like a bird set free from her cage. The bag arced beautifully through the air before landing in the surf, sinking like a stone.

Johnny sighed softly to himself and turned to head back inside when he felt something wet and heavy slap against the back of his head. He turned quickly, drawing his saber once more before looking down at the projectile. It was the pouch! The pouch full of scales had been returned to him.

With a scoff and a shake of his head, he launched it again, further than before and watched it sink below the waves. He kept his eye on the waves this time, watching a figure hoist the bag and then launch it back at him. He caught the projectile as it hit against his hand, water splashing across his face. The figure didn’t disappear beneath the waves, staying up and…coming closer.

The siren from before drew closer, her scales glimmering in the setting sunlight and form shimmering under the golden waves. She bared her teeth at him but didn’t hiss, treading water and staring up at him with her impossibly beautiful eyes. He dropped the pouch again, watching as she caught it. She opened the bag and looked at the scales inside. Johnny’s heart pounded like a war drum in his chest as she furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head, emptying the bag of scales into the sea. Was she disappointed he kept them? Was she angry?

He felt a lump swell up in his throat as he watched her pluck a few loose scales from her tail and hips, placing the shiniest and largest ones in the bag. She gently closed the bag, pressing her teeth against the top to really be sure it was closed. She then angled herself so Johnny could see her magnificent tail. It was still a bit tattered but it had clearly been healing from the damage it had sustained in the storm. She set the bag on the flukes and then with a mighty shove, she flipped the bag into the air and into his awaiting hands.

When he looked back into the water, she had gone, but he had this new batch of scales to tide him over until he saw her next. His siren…

He returned to the drawing room, a new determination settling in his soul. He would be a good king. He had to be a good king. If not for his people, then for her. He’d protect her from conflict, he’d protect her from seeing warships in her oceans. He pushed the doors to the castle open exiting the room and causing a breeze to lift the notes he had taken into the air and over to the balcony.

The sea breeze ruffled the edges of said papers until they gracefully lifted up and fluttered over the side of the parapets. The twisted and turned in the air, being buffeted by gales of fated wind. The papers floated down and danced in the sky until they settled into the water and the awaiting hands of…you.

You, the siren who washed up on his beach during the storm of the century. You, who had gifted him riches and bared your teeth at his presence. You, who played catch with him and gifted him some of your scales. You looked down at what once had been notes on the meeting but now had become drawings of ships and strange figures distorted by what looked to be sketched water.

You turned it in your hands, the water ruining the paper and lifting the charcoal off the face of it. Before the sea could remove all trace or Johnny MacTavish from the paper, you caught a glimpse of yourself. He had sketched your face so clearly and you couldn’t help but bare your teeth in a smile.

Until next time, my Captain.

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #cod x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #John MacTavish

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