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dixons-sunshine · 3 days

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👉👈 Because your my fav writer for Dad Daryl 👉👈 Just wondering if you’d consider him stepping up as a parental figure for his niece (Merle’s kid) after he “died” and when he actually died 👉👈

I'm Right Here | Uncle!Daryl Dixon x Niece!Reader (platonic/familial)

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With Merle gone, you were the only family Daryl had left. He had unofficially stepped up as your dad, and in those eight months with your actual father "dead", Daryl was a better dad than Merle ever was. And he proved it in more ways than one, even before Merle went missing.

Genre: Fluff, some light angst.

Era: The Quarry, The Prison (season three).

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and death, fear of abandonment.

Word count: 2.4k

A/n: I've been bouncing back and forth between fics and finally managed to finish this. Next up is I Never Lived For The Applause, and then some more young!Daryl. Anyhow, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Hey, kiddo. Ya alrigh'?”

“I'm fine. The walkers didn't get me,” you tried to reassure him. “You didn't find my dad?”

You looked up at the sound of your uncle's voice, meeting his intense gaze. You gave him a small, unconvincing smile that he could see through instantly.

Daryl sat down on the log next to you, placing his crossbow down on the ground. He stared ahead at the ashes of the prior night's fire, an unreadable expression on his face. “Nah. Wasn't nothin' to find 'cept his hand. He had to cut it off.”

You winced, absentmindedly grabbing your own hand at the mere thought of the pain that it must've caused your father. Despite your strained relationship with the man for obvious reasons, he didn't deserve that fate—to lose his hand because some people couldn't find another way to deal with his temper.

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling your heart break. Despite everything, Merle was your father and you loved him. At least he had stuck around. The same couldn't be said for your mother, who had dropped you on Merle's doorstep the moment you were born.

“Yeah,” Daryl responded, instantly picking up on your downtrodden mood but not knowing how to bring you comfort in a moment like that. He'd just essentially told you, his thirteen year old niece that was so wise beyond her years due to the shit Merle had gotten into, that your father was most likely dead. It tore him apart to have to bestow that news on you, but it was necessary. What could he do, lie to you? That was out of the question.

You blinked the tears away that had started to well up in your eyes, trying to put on a brave face for your uncle. “Looks like it's just us now, huh, uncle Daryl? The two remaining Dixons.”

Daryl gave you a tight-lipped smile and ruffled your hair, chuckling quietly at the sound of protest you let out. “Looks like it. We're gon' give the world hell, ya and I. Jus' like the old times.”

You smiled up at him. Even though your father was gone, you still had your uncle, and that made you feel better about everything.

“We are. The world ain't ready for us.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“It won't work.”

“S'gotta.”

“It'll stir things up,” Rick told Daryl, adamant with his decision.

“Look, the Governor's probably on the way to the prison righ' now. Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle,” Daryl replied defiantly, glancing between his companions on the road.

“Do you really want him sleeping in the same cellblock as Carol, Beth or Y/n?” Glenn questioned, unwilling to let Merle, a known hothead and former drug user, near the people he's come to care about.

“He ain't a rapist,” Daryl responded, frowning at Glenn's accusation. “And he sure as hell wouldn't touch his own daughter like tha'. Merle may be sick in some ways, but he ain't like tha'.”

“Yeah, okay, but his buddy is.”

“They ain't buddies no more. Not after last nigh'.”

Rick chipped in to the conversation, turning the archer's attention back to him. “There's no way Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats.”

“What, so ya'd cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” Daryl asked, motioning over to Michonne who was waiting for them by the car.

“She's not coming back with us.”

“She's not in a state to be on her own,” Maggie denied, giving Rick a pointed look.

Glenn nodded in agreement to his girlfriend's statement. “She did bring you guys to us.”

“And then ditched us,” Rick stated in a bored tone, eyeing Michonne warily.

“At least let my dad stitch her up?” Maggie asked.

“It's too unpredictable,” Rick denied vehemently, shaking his head.

Daryl nodded in agreement. “He's righ', we dun' know who she is. But Merle... Merle's blood.”

“No. Merle is your blood. My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison,” Glenn countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you're part of that family,” Rick told Daryl, looking at him expectantly. “He's not. He's not.”

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, pondering over his decisions. Thoughts of leaving with Merle, going off and fending for themselves like the old days flashed through his mind, but then he thought of you. You, his sweet, kind, low-key badass, now fourteen year old niece who he'd gone to great lengths to protect over the past eight months. The girl who he'd been taking care of since his brother "died", the girl who had unknowingly started to feel like his own daughter, though he would never tell Merle that. And at that moment, he knew he couldn't just leave. He wouldn't.

“Man, wha' do y'all expect me to tell my niece?” Daryl began, effectively silencing everyone. “Tha' I found her father after all this time and he's alive, but he couldn't come back to her 'cause y'all said so? How's tha' gon' fly with her? Ya'd really deprive the girl a chance at gettin' her father back 'cause of wha' might happen?”

That seemed to really make everyone reconsider. Even Glenn didn't have a counter argument now. Everything was silent for a good thirty seconds while Rick weighed his options, exchanging wordless exchanges with Maggie and Glenn. It was clear that nobody wanted it, but the group couldn't deny Daryl's argument. They cared about you, and it would be unfair for them to deny you the chance of getting your father back.

Rick turned and whistled, signalling Merle over. When he stood in front of him, Rick gripped him by his shirt, getting into his face.

“You're coming with us, but this isn't an invitation for you to be a jackass with everyone back at the prison. The only reason you're even coming back is because of your daughter. If it wasn't for her, you'd be gone.”

Merle's eyes widened the slightest bit with surprise, but it soon morphed back into his usual careless look. “Well, would ya look at tha'. My lil' girl still lives. M'surprised, quite honestly. Didn't think she was built fer this world. Kinda expected her to have kicked the bucket by now.”

“Man, shut up!” Daryl's voice boomed unexpectedly, shutting his brother up. “Dun' make me regret convincin' them to bring ya back. And if ya even say one degradin' thing to yer daughter, I will personally gut ya and feed ya to the walkers. Tha' kid's been through 'nough.”

Unbeknownst to either brother, Rick, Glenn and Maggie had walked ahead to get everything settled into the car, leaving the two brothers to their feud. It was a good idea, too. That was a family matter.

“Wha', ya actually care 'bout her now? Didn't see ya stickin' 'round to play pretend with her back before the world went to shit, and now yer tryna tell me how to parent my own child? Nah, lil' bro. Tha' ain't how it works.”

Daryl scoffed and shoved past him, walking over to the car. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of Merle's laughter, rolling his eyes at it. He pressed forward and slipped into the passenger's seat, not missing the way everyone tensed up when Merle got into the car.

He just hoped that he hadn't made the wrong decision by bringing Merle back.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

You and Carl were rushing over to the gates when you saw the familiar vehicle enter the courtyard. The car was noticeably more crowded, and with one glance through the window, you were relieved to see your uncle. You had been so worried that something might have happened to him, but there he was, relatively unscathed.

Daryl was barely out of the car when you practically launched yourself into his arms. He stumbled a bit but regained his footing, hugging you tightly to him. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of your sniffles.

“Hey, kiddo, s'alrigh'. M'okay,” he reassured you in whispered tones, rubbing his hand up and down your back in comfort.

“I was so scared. I couldn't stop fearing the worst,” you choked out, trying to will the sobs away. You buried your face into your uncle's shirt, dampening it slightly with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind.

“M'righ' here. I ain't goin' nowhere, I promise,” he assured you. “No more tears, alrigh'? Ain't no more need fer 'em.”

“Well, ain't this jus' sweet.”

A familiar raspy voice met your ears. You tensed up, pulling away from the hug and turning around, facing the man you had thought to be dead for eight months—your father, Merle Dixon.

“Wha', no hugs fer yer old man, girl?” Merle asked, a grin on his face as he extended his arms in a silent invitation for a hug. “Yer not gon' greet the man who helped with givin' ya life?”

Subconsciously, you took a step back. Daryl stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body. He gave Merle a warning glare before turning to you.

“Why dun' ya go help Hershel with tha' lady we brought back? I know he's been teachin' ya some medical things. It'd do ya good to learn how to do stitches.” You nodded, understanding his underlying message and sped off, leaving him alone with Merle. Daryl turned to face him, a glare on his face. “Man, back the hell off. She ain't gotta give ya anythin' if she dun' want to.”

“Because I was with the enemy?”

“'Cause yer a simple minded piece of shit who never even bothered to play dolls with her, much less give her hugs! Ya wanna know somethin'? When tha' lady dropped her off on our doorstep, who do ya think took care of her when yer ass was too high or drunk to? To answer yer question from earlier, I did stick 'round. I changed her diapers. I bathed her, fed her, stayed up with her at nigh' when ya wouldn't. I took care of her. Ya were jus' too fuckin' out of it most of the time to realise it! Hell, did ya think those things happened magically?”

“Now listen here, bro—” Merle started, but Daryl didn't light up.

“And when she got older, who the hell do ya think took her to school? Picked her up, encouraged her to do the spelling bee, went to parent teacher conferences? Do ya think the fuckin' tooth fairy did tha'? Say wha' ya want, bro, but she dun' owe ya shit. Ya may not have been like dad, but ya weren't a good father, either.”

Merle stayed silent for a moment, the weight of his brother's final statement weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Then why the hell did ya convince 'em to bring me back?”

“'Cause despite everythin', tha' girl still loves ya. And she deserves to have her father 'round,” Daryl responded simply before turning around and stalking off, leaving Merle alone and dumbfounded.

Merle Dixon wasn't right about most things, but one thing he knew for certain he was right about was that you probably didn't care whether he was dead or not. If what Daryl was saying was true, you didn't need him. You had a perfectly good father figure in your life already. Daryl had been a better father to you than your actual father was.

And for some unknown reason, that crushed Merle's heart.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You found him like that?”

Daryl's heart shattered at the broken sound of your voice. It was the second time that he had needed to tell you that Merle was dead, but this time, it was real. Your father's lifeless corpse layed motionless six feet in the ground in the designated graveyard, Daryl having dragged him there and buried him.

Daryl nodded. “Found him as a walker. He had tried to kill the governor but failed. Son of a bitch got to him first.”

“I should've stopped him. I should've known that something was wrong,” you said, a sob threatening to escape your body. “Before he left, he told me that he was proud of me. That he loved me. I should've known that there was a reason to it. He never told me that before. I should've—”

A choked up sob finally fell past your lips. Daryl instinctively pulled you into his arms, offering to be the pillar of strength for you as you crumbled. Despite everything, Merle was still your father. You still had a handful of good memories with the man—when he wasn't drunk or high, Merle was an okay father. But just okay.

It took a while, but you finally managed to calm down. Instinctively, Daryl pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, running his hand soothingly over your back.

“S'alrigh', kiddo,” he whispered soothingly.

You didn't know what made you say what you said next. Maybe it was the fact that you weren't thinking straight. Maybe it was because you were desperately looking for a pillar of support, you didn't know. But before you could stop it, the words slipped past your lips—

“Please don't leave me. I can't lose you too, Dad.”

A moment of silence passed. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile spread over Daryl's face. He pulled you closer to him.

“Ya still got me. M'here and I ain't goin' nowhere, kid. Yer stuck with me.”

Merle Dixon wasn't always a good man. He wasn't always a good father either. But in the midst of a cruel world, before and after the dead started walking, Merle managed to give Daryl a sweet gift—you, his daughter. Because despite biological relations, you were now truly his.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #merle dixon #the walking dead

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feralforfrank · 23 hours

Text

part two-ish? of this.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

cw idk cursing? NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

a/n like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

masterlist | taglist

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #fluff #established relationship #frank writes

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fiber-optic-alligator · 2 days

Text

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Two months later…

You dream of Earth tonight.

There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

“Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

You are not domesticated yet.

When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

“Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

“Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

“Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

He chirps again and nods.

You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

“My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

You need to get the hell off of this ship.

You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

“…Little one?”

Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat with a smile. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

“I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up fonce on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

Shit. He put a tracker in it.

You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

“I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

“Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

Oh my god.

All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

He learned to say it. For you.

Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

“Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

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suzukiblu · 2 days

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WIP excerpt from the one where Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this.

Only Kal would manage to get his DNA stolen on a planet called “Earth”, of all the godsdamned stupid places.

Might as well just be named “The Planet” or something, she swears.

“All three it is,” Kara says, waving open her wall storage and grabbing her rice pot out of it. She only has the one because she's never had to cook for anyone else in her life, much less anyone who was staying with her, but she'll make it work.

Somehow.

Can't be any worse than pulling off mission-critical military maneuvers in shit conditions with untried and under-trained new recruits, she figures.

. . . though she is admittedly more prepared for that situation than this one, if it comes to it.

Look, that’s just experience, alright? She’s been on a thousand maneuvers and missions she didn’t have the resources for, but Kal doesn’t get cloned every day.

Well, at least not when he’s not on incredibly uncreatively named alien planets, anyway.

Kara dumps three times the usual amount of rice into her rice pot while Thirteen hovers just outside the kitchen and Match stands very, very still beside him. Neither of them says anything else, though Thirteen looks like he might want to. He seems to be the talker, from what Kara can tell.

Or at least, he’s the one they’ve designated to be the talker. He asks more questions, and sometimes Match looks at him like he’s expecting him to ask a question. Even if they don’t necessarily get along, they seem to be cooperating at least that much.

Well, it makes sense. They’re the only other successful Kryptonian-human clones that anyone’s aware of existing, and they know cloning is illegal on Krypton, and Kal isn’t here right now. Who else are they going to rely on when meeting a total stranger?

Even a total stranger who is, technically, family.

Or at least arguably, anyway.

Her house communicator plays a familiar identifying little melody as she’s juggling her spheres of katso sauce and dried spygin in one arm while trying to dig out the last couple of bly fruit she <i>knows</i> she had shoved in the back of her cold storage, which admittedly is a bit cluttered with premade meals right now. Or . . . always, pretty much.

In her defense, she really doesn’t cook very much. Or very well. Or . . . at all, really, when she can avoid it.

She’s a grown woman and a decorated general, alright? She doesn’t need to cook if she doesn’t want to.

“Accept call,” she instructs briskly, and the communicator’s holoscreen materializes to her side. Thirteen startles slightly; Match doesn’t so much as twitch. Doesn’t so much as breathe either, though, so she’s pretty sure he was startled too. At least, that’s the impression she’s been getting from the way he’s reacted to things so far.

Avoided reacting to things, more like.

“Oh, look who’s finally calling,” she says, eyeing Kal’s image on her projected screen. He looks just barely harried and the slightest bit sheepish, and she can see a dark-haired woman who’s presumably his new wife sitting behind him in his home office wearing peculiar clothing that is definitely not Kryptonian, but also doesn’t look nearly as indecent as what Thirteen and Match both showed up wearing. She seems occupied with a reader, and keeps activating and deactivating it like she’s never seen anything like it before.

So probably the wife, yes. Lois Kal-El, née Sam-Lane, according to Kal’s previous calls. Though he also says that humans have slightly different naming schemes than Krypton does. And apparently more varied ones than Krypton does, too.

Why Kal apparently made sure his grown wife was more appropriately dressed than the children were is beyond her, though.

#wip: krypton lives and kara did not sign up for this

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love-islike-abomb · 3 days

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Hail to the king

Roman reigns x Astrid (OC)

"hail to the king! Hail to the one! Kneel to the crown! Stand in the sun! Hail to the king! Hail! Hail! Hail!"

Warnings: smut, errors I may have missed

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @mzv11 @marchm-langdon @mandeelemons @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80 @weirdgirl16355

_____

I hadn't expected to see him shooting a scene in what looked like a throne room! Gold blocks all around, him wearing a suit with no undershirt, exposing part of his tattoo, muscular chest and looking dreamy asf! His hair slicked back into a neat bun was the cherry on top! He looked good enough to eat!

I tried to go about my day as normal, running errands for the director, making sure he had his coffee, keeping the public out of the venue, the usual work for an assistant. But everytime I would look up I would catch him looking at me with lustful eyes, that smirk on his face. I bit my lip several times to keep from moaning out loud. He'd smile everytime he saw me flustered. He was enjoying teasing me. I can't say I wasn't enjoying it.

When the day ended and everyone went home, I had stopped by where he'd been filming to say a proper hello but he wasn't in the room. I shrugged thinking he must have already left, it was 9pm after all. I turned around to go back to my office, turning down the hall I heard shuffling coming from the room. Just before I reached my door he walked out still in that suit. I smiled "I figured you'd left already! It's late!"

He reaches his arm out to brace himself on the wall, he towered over me "I was looking for you. I wanted to say how I enjoyed our little sessions today. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable!" He smiled. His smile made my heart flutter.

"oh no! Not at all! In fact I enjoyed in myself!" I said mentally kicking myself. Astrid you idiot! I think he knew the effect he was having on me. He moved his arm away from the wall an walked towards me, pinning me between him and the wall "your boldness is highly attractive! I like a woman who knows what she wants!" He winked at me.

"I need to get into my office and get a few things before I head out!" I said. I guess part of me was trying to lure him into my office to shut the door. The idea of him fucking me on my desk was making the heat pool between my legs. He stood outside the room though which disappointed me. I walked back out with my things and he walked with me down the hall until we reached the room he had been filming in earlier before he walked behind me and leaned towards my ear.

"I saw in your eyes today how you wished you could have been fucking me on this throne! Bouncing on my cock!" He growled. I bit my lip, my mouth watering at the thought.

"don't be shy baby girl! Theres no one here!" He said walking to the chair and sitting down. He patted his knee and I nearly screamed at the sight "come sit on daddy's lap!" I walked towards him, trying to contain my excitement. He took off his jacket, motioning for me to do the same with my cardigan. Slowly I took it off letting it fall to the floor.

He stood up taking his suit pants off, pulling them down his thick thighs, pulling his boxers with them. I took my dress off when motioned for me to, revealing my black lace bra and thong. He licked his lips, making my thighs clench "come ere baby girl!" He motioned. When I reached him he grabbed my thong and pulled it off throwing it to the ground. I turned around my back facing him, before lowering myself onto his hardened flesh "uhn! Fuck baby!" He groaned, his massive hands gripping my hips, moving me up and down his length. I leaned forward, using his knees for balance, sliding myself up and down him, the sound of our juices mixing and skin slapping against skin filled the room "that's a good girl! Bounce on my cock!" He growled "the way that pussy is gripping me I think you're close! Cum on my cock baby girl! That's it!" My fingers dug into his legs and my whole body tensed.

"fuck baby girl! That pussy is gonna milk my cock dry!" He growled, digging his fingers into my hips, working us both through our orgasms. His grip on my hips loosened and I fell backwards into his chest "fuck!" I said trying to catch my breath.

"that was incredible!" He said "I know this may seem like a crazy thing to ask but do you wanna have dinner with me tomorrow?"

I smiled "I'd love to!"

#Spotify #roman reigns #big daddy uce #wwe x oc #wwe smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfiction #writeblr #fanfic writing

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 days

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Tressym can be Fickle

WORDS: 692 RATING: G PAIRING: Gale x Tav SUMMARY: based on a very real arguement between my husband & I on who our cat likes more.

It had been a long, arduous, grueling day at the academy.

Though Gale loved his new role as a professor and educator, teaching the young minds of witches & wizards all across Faerun to harness their magic, induction week was the worst. He felt his life was in less peril fighting the Elder Brain or any of their other enemies & cohorts along the Sword Coast than he was now. Testing the new inductees to file them accordingly to their skill. ‘Skill’ being a very loose word tossed around this week.

He returned home that evening with a heavy sigh through the door, an even heavier thud of his satchel filled with books, and a desperate need to be tended to by his spouse. The whole day had been about soothing the egos, feelings, and on occasion literal wounds of new students that Gale thought he deserved some tending to now.

“Tav?” He called out as he put his cloak away. Usually, they greeted him at the door. Or at least acknowledged him when he came home. Curious, Gale walked through the house to try and find them. His search not long as he came upon Tav in the living room. On the couch by a low fire, with Tara on their lap. “Well….don’t you two look cozy.”

“Hmm, we rather are Mr. Dekarios.” Tara agreed. “Or at least we were, until someone started shouting.”

“Apologies for shouting in my own house.” Gale snipped at Tara. Taking his own plush armchair across from them. “Since when did you become a lap cat? And, before you get too ruffled under the feathers, it’s a figure of speech.”

Tara hummed. Seeming to debate about not letting it go but was perhaps indeed to comfortable to make a fuss. “Very recently I suppose. I never had an interest until now.” The tressym purred with her eyes closed as she tilted her head up towards Tav and her head scratches.

“You never took an interest with me.” Gale said with a deep frown.

“You do not have nails, Mr. Dekarios.”

The wizard growled and stood up. Unable to watch his dearest friend and lover betray him like this in front of his own eyes. It was still early for dinner but he stalked off towards the kitchen to focus his frustrations on what to eat.

A few moments later, Tav came in. Looking confused on why he was so upset. “Sorry.” He apologized quickly. “It’s just been a long day. And I am glad that you and Tara are getting along now. Guess I’m being….overly sensitive at being shut out. Tressym can be fickle, but I’ve never known Tara to change her mind about anyone. Again, not that I’m not pleased you two are getting along. I just never thought I would suddenly be second in her estimation.”

“Suddenly second? Please Mr. Dekarios.” The couple turned to see Tara trot in. Seeming interested in their conversation. “I wouldn’t say that you were suddenly second. Not given my high esteem of your mother. A better estimate is which one of you is second on the day, and who is third.”

“Really Tara? Kick a man while he’s down??”

“But, I’m a reasonable creature. Perhaps my estimations can be over swayed. Perhaps with a bit of chicken? Fried pigeons if you have any?”

“So a creature of reason but not honor, eh?” Gale stated, with a wave of his hand as if he wish to brush away this whole conversation.

Before he could leave, Tav wrapped their arms around his waist. Pulling him close. The smell of their hair in his nose. Something like ‘you’ll always be number 1 to me’ muffled into his chest, which causes him to smile and hold them back.

They tell Gale to go upstairs and relax. Take a bath if he liked, while they made dinner. That sounded heavenly, so he did just that.

When he came back down, he was not amused by the roast chicken on his plate. Nor the grinning little tressym in the corner, licking her chops like she’d just swallowed a canary. Or, perhaps, her bribery chicken.

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b2cute · 3 hours

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After Hours | Matt Sturniolo

authors notes: hi guys! i’ve been really busy but i want to try to be more active on this app because i love you guys so much! reminder that requests are open!

warnings: y/n (don’t kill me), fem reader, she/her pronouns, pet names, sex, no pull out, wrap before u tap!!!!, cussing?, lmk if i miss anything

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

It was 12:40 am and Matt still hadn’t arrived to pick me up from my friend's house. I was there all day and the night before, helping her prep for a big final coming up at our university. We met each other at a bar freshman year and now spend our late teenage years together. I found Matt through her when she invited me to her birthday party early into our friendship. I got to meet Nathan, a close friend of Matt’s and later found Matt because of him. Through the years of my relationship with Matt, we share plenty of memories and stories. He is sweet and takes good care of me. It took time for him to open up to me which is something I found interesting considering his now bubbly persona. Matt would start by shaking my hand and guiding me to his car. Now, he sprints to me and picks me up like a feather while carrying me to the car for our weekly dates.

Considering our different lifestyles, it's hard for me and Matt to see each of her as much as we desire. His love for YouTube and my constant studying made it impossible to get alone time, so when we were together he made the most out of it. For others, Matt is kind and shy with a friendly personality, but for me… well it's safe to say he hates my guts after hours.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Yeah just like that” she screams out. Her face was shoved into the plush silk pillows in his room. The lights were dim and the only sounds were y/n’s moans and slapping through the bedroom, maybe even the whole house. Matt continues pounding into her like there's no tomorrow. Even though she couldn't remember how many times she finished, y/n was still feigning for more. The way her tight walls hugged Matt's thick member made the two weak for each other. “Gonna be a good girl and give me a couple more right baby?” the sweaty brunette calls out. His figure was almost invisible in the room with nothing but a dark silhouette showing his lean body.

Matt continued fucking himself onto y/n, she couldn't take it anymore. Her body became numb and her legs gave out a long ago now being held by Matt's tattooed arm that snakes throughout her waist as he slowly bent down to place harsh kisses onto the girl's back. “Please mmph… can't take it anymore” the girl cried out. She was attempting to crawl away from the boy when she suddenly felt her body shift. Matt turned her limp body around so her head was on the back of the pillows. “You got it, almost done love just hang on” he grunts. Matt brings his arms to the backs of y/n’s thighs and lifts them back to her knees. The new angle brought a wave of pleasure as his head kissed her g-spot over and over. “Matt oh my g-god!” she moans out but the boy tuned her out long ago, only focusing on making her finish.

He slowed down his pace, pulling out until just the tip was in her, then slamming back in, repeating this over and over. Soft groans escaped the boy's lips as he held onto the girl, not letting her leave the state she was in.

“Matt seriously, no more” she cried out, “I'm done.” This only made Matt needier, bringing a hand lower to her puffy clit, rubbing hard circles with the pads of his fingers, occasionally leaving a light slap. Y/n jerked up from the pleasure, holding onto the boy's hair as a familiar knot in her stomach formed for the 3rd time. “C-close” she warned the boy as her eyes screwed shut from the sensation she felt. “M’ too, come with me babe” the boy growled fastening his pace. He left out numerous amount of thrusts before releasing his sticky seed inside y/n’s swollen cunt. “Matt!” y/n screams out, her back leaving the mattress as her hands grip the silky sheets underneath her. She squirmed underneath the boy and created the perfect “O” shape on her mouth. A series of cusses left Matt’s mouth as he panted hard after coming.

Trying to not hurt her, Matt slowly pulled out, the sight of their releasing oozing out of the girl. Wasting no time, Matt dips his head down legs y/n’s legs shoving the muscle in his mouth into her. “Too sensitive!” she cries out, her hands finding a home in his damp hair trying to pull him away. “Can't leave a mess, can we? Nick and Chris will notice” he smirks before diving back in. His tongue dances around the girl's cunt, cleaning everything up before light sucking her swollen clit. Y/n was a moaning mess, moving around and squirming at every little touch. When Matt felt satisfied, he pulled away, leaving one last kiss on her pussy and standing up.

The girl was lying down on the bed, her body almost paralyzed. Matt stood up, walked into the bathroom, and grabbed a damp towel to clean up anything left behind. After throwing it away, he went into the bed pulling Y/n into his arms, kissing the top of her head. He could feel her heart beating out her chest and he stroked her hair. “I love you, baby, you did so good for me” he cooed, planting kisses on her forehead. The girl let out a soft hum as she drifted into bed. Not being able to sleep, Matt grabbed his phone to see 40+ notifications from his group chat with Nick and Chris.

| For god's sake please shut the fuck up

| Matt you hooligan I can hear you over my music

| I give up.

The boy let out a soft laugh before shutting his phone off and bringing y/n closer to his chest, slowly drifting off to bed himself.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist:

@mqttittude @luverboychris @knowingnothingnoel @whicked-hazlatwhore @mattsdinosweater @n00dl3zzz @sophssturn @sstvrnioloo @sturnioloenthusiast @lolasturniolo o @mattsleftnipple03 @gracealwaysdisgrace @guccifrog @hearts4chriss @sttzee @stunza @fawned01 @sillysillygyal @skyslondon @stu2719962 @domaniquessidehoe @junnniiieee07

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scribblestatic · 1 day

Text

Because I like to make stuff up just from the most vague of associations, I recently talked about COTL and I'm writing an SVSSS fic on my other AO3 account, so now, we have Sheep Yuan.

Basically, Shen Yuan transmigrates and is gonna get put into Shen Qingqiu at an earlier time, but Shen Qingqiu's soul is a tenacious motherfucker, so it doesn't give up despite his qi deviation. Without a good vessel to put Shen Yuan's soul in, the system finds the nearest body that can accommodate him.

It ends up being in the body of a spirit sheep on Xin Ya (fan-made) Peak with all the rest of the beasties being studied and/or eaten (they do animal husbandry and farming, too).

Sheep Yuan doesn't quite remember his past life at first because yeah, the little lamb brain needs time to process human thought. Like, sheep are smart, but not quite able to compute to the same level as humans, so the sheep body's gonna have to adapt. So, he kinda follows through the usual sheep things after he manages to stand up, not realizing he'd been a stillborn lamb just a few moments ago.

He also doesn't immediately realize that his "mother" in this world died during childbirth until later because he was supposed to be a twin. But he and his twin got impacted and the spirit sheep couldn't handle it. All three had died, but somehow, he survived. So, now, he gets hand-fed. Despite the peak lord of Xin Ya telling the disciples not to name the animals or get too attached since they provide food for many of the peaks, one disciple does start calling him Shēng Huán (生还 = To Survive).

He's being raised and monitored on Xin Ya like other farmed spirit animals, and he's alright as long as he gets his food and has a nice place to sleep. Despite spirit sheep being herding creatures, he's not the most popular amongst his peers, so he tends to dwell around the humans more. But as he becomes more aware, he realizes that some of the lambs and sheep have gone missing, and because he's not only a sheep, he puts two-and-two together and realizes he's on the menu.

So, he starts trying to escape, despite the fact he's not even fully weaned off his milk yet. When he can't manage to escape, he tries acting cute so no one thinks about eating him just yet.

Also, as a spirit sheep with more intelligence, he figures out how to cultivate, which is something most spirit and demonic creatures figure out naturally. Since he was born a spirit sheep, he got a head start rather than a mortal cat or dog or something. So, he starts cultivating to try and acquire a human body to avoid getting eaten.

One day, he's finally put on the roster for slaughter because of a larger meat order (Dammit Bai Zhan!! Stop eating so much meat!!!). In his panic as he's led to the slaughter room, he uses qi and manages to escape, fleeing the mountain as quickly as possible.

The problem now, though, is that he's terribly lost and he's not sure he got away from Cang Qiong. In fact, he's almost certain he's still on the mountain somewhere because the qi is still quite dense! He has to escape before he's put on someone's plate!

What he doesn't realize is that he fled to Qing Jing Peak.

The grass there is tasty, so he gets a bit distracted while eating it. But then he hears a scuffle and, despite being a prey animal, goes to see what's going on. There, he sees a fluffy-haired boy getting beaten up by a bunch of older kids while a younger girl cries out beside him.

I'm sorry, human girl, but I'm sure this "A'Luo" whose name you're calling out would very much appreciate it if you did something other than that! Maybe throw a punch or a kick or something!

Anyway, he sees the boy get pretty beat up and watches as the group leaves, satisfied. The boy and girl talk, and he only kind of understands human language--he's still learning, okay? He's looking for some sort of jade guanyin? There's so much greenery around, how is this A'Luo supposed to find that?

But, well, 'Yuan,' as he calls himself (not sure why he insists on that...hmm) decides to help. With his superior animal senses + cultivation combo, he sees the guanyin hanging off a branch. He's not sure how to get it down, though...

Well, he has horns, so maybe he could knock it down!

Once the children head off, he starts knocking his head against the tree. And, yikes, it kinda hurts a bit, but good thing he's got a thick skull and nice curved horns growing in! So he smacks the tree until he manages to use qi through his horns and crack the trunk. The branches shake, and finally, the jade guanyin falls!

...Now, how is he supposed to get it to that A'Luo? And why does he even care that much? Sure, the kid looked so cute and sad, like a little bun, but he's a prey animal and those children are predators that could eat him!!

Still...just the thought of leaving the fluffy black sheep without the guanyin made his little heart hurt. Maybe he felt kinship toward that fluffy little boy.

Following the boy's scent as he trailed through the bamboo and forest, he found it strongest at a woodshed of all places. How strange...he must go there often. It's almost night time, so he likely wouldn't return. Anyway, he'd just leave the guanyin on the ground in front of the door and--

Luo Binghe returned to the woodshed with his unhealed bruises and ruddy eyes, having spent some more time searching for his guanyin. But he stopped, seeing a sheep on the mountain. Different animals went around the peaks as they pleased, but there definitely weren't any spirit sheep on the peak. So why was--

But his thoughts stopped when he saw the guanyin in the sheep's mouth.

Caught in the act, Yuan gives up and slowly approaches the boy, keeping his head low and legs ready in case he needed to run away. The boy felt...strong somehow, and it made him feel cautious.

Feeling too afraid to get too much closer, Yuan put the guanyin on the ground and backed up. Of course, the boy practically pounced on the jade, making Yuan stumble back and almost bolt. But he managed to wait, watching as the boy sobs profusely over the guanyin and thanking him.

Yuan stared at him for a bit, then his nerves get to be too much, and he fled. He needed to find his way off the mountain, after all.

#why am i like this...#eh it's at least fun #svsss au #svsss #shen yuan #luo binghe #static drabbles #errr...let's call this...#sheepzun au #au post 1

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brokenpieces-72 · 15 hours

Text

Repairing Bridges

TW: gang stuff, past trauma, mentions of death, tell me if there is anything else.

Graves shifts in his chair in the dark of his apartment. He figured this day would come. The tv illuminated the small living space in harsh light. You were safe, he told himself. You told him as much. When he saw you turned off your location he considered texting you. Now he was glad he hadn’t.

Makarov was back. That monster was back and now Graves worked for him. He thought back to when you told him about getting jumped by a few officers. They were his, he could tell. You didn’t tell him, didn’t rat them out. He’d asked them to keep an eye on you while you were having a week to yourself. In that time, he had kept checking up on you. It wasn’t just for you to report to him but to see you were safe. He kept it professional not wanting to get too attached, and vice versa. Losing his partner was bad enough, but he wasn’t about to lose his partner’s kid too.

With you gone and somewhere not even he knew, there was less to worry about. Now he needed to figure out his own next steps. Time would tell for now. Maybe he would take some long vacation, but Makarov was thorough. Could he trust his own officers, after they hurt you?

He switched over the channel not wanting to see the man’s face. The tv continued playing, as he got up, to get a drink for himself. Day off tomorrow. He had a little more than 48 hours. Graves texted Alex. Wouldn’t be surprised if Alex already knew but Farah would need to know as well. Then he thought about Price. Price would already know by now, word would spread to other gangs like the Los Vaqueros easily enough.

As he took more sips of his drink the memories came back. Ones he told himself he wouldn’t let bother him. Makarov’s words of warning, your father’s body, Price’s glare, Soap holding him against the wall… and your scared, sad face full of tears after he had to tell you your dad wouldn’t be coming home again. He blamed himself, wishing he had stepped in, stopped your father, done something either in that moment or before.

Graves texts you.

You didn’t see the text until the next morning. You got up, asked Simon who was already up if you could have a shower.

“I’m not your parent.” He replies. “There’s a towel in your closet though.”

After the shower you come back out, and find Simon crouched in front of black cat eating at some leftover tuna. It’s interesting to see Ghost in a much more calm state. You hadn’t seen him in action but you’d heard he could be lethal, sending more than a few cops to the hospital. Now here he was in dark jeans, a black hoodie and the same scarf over half his face from last night, petting a scrawny feline, who wasn’t intimidated at all.

“Are they yours?” You ask trying to keep your voice down. When you left the bathroom, you could make out snoring in another room. Didn’t want to wake anyone.

“Seen her a few times. People don’t like black cats, so they try to get rid of them.” He says, scratching the cat between the ears. The cat raised its head, welcoming the scratches. When Simon stopped the cat circled him rubbing up against his legs. “Cats don’t get to choose what they look like… owners don’t deserve to be cruel.” He adds in. Simon stood up and turned to you, seeing clean clothes. Black pants, baggie hoodie, a white tshirt. Your wet hair was covered by your beanie, and you already had your red scarf on.

Both of you stand there in awkward silence. Simon’s feline friend was still rubbing against his leg and purring.

“Hungry?” He asks finally.

“Kind of.” You say. Ghost shakes his head. He could understand you being weary still, he wasn’t exactly a bunny rabbit.

“Diner across the street does take out. Ask them what the price is for breakfast. Get yourself something too. You got money?” He asks. You nod, getting your shoes on with another word, taking your card and phone in your back pockets.

Once you get outside into the cold winter morning, your phone buzzes. You check it and find a text from Graves. One sent last night and the other just now.

G: Keep your location off.

G: We need to talk.

You stare at the text message while you walk through the alley, to get to the diner. Your steps are slow as you try to decide what to text back with.

Y/N: getting breakfast right now.

G: Take it back to your place.

G: or where you’re staying.

Y/N: why what’s going on?

G: is anyone with you?

Y/N: not right now.

G: staying with you?

Y/N: Why?

G: Tell me.

Y/N : Tell me why!

You weren’t about to let him get away without giving you answers. You finally reach the diner, and repeat what Ghost told you to, while ordering something for yourself. While you wait at the counter, you look around the quiet mostly empty diner. You notice a larger man in a booth staring at you. At first you turn to look in the same direction he is, then back at him. Definitely staring at you. Keeping your hands in your pockets you look back at him. Two can play at this game. He scoffs after a bit of you both staring.

“Can I help you?” You ask with some attitude. He scoffs again finally looking away. You take a moment to pull out your phone and snap a photo of the guy. Thankfully your food comes and you’re able to leave. Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, like he was sizing you up. You take a longer route back to the hideout. Couldn’t hurt to be safe.

By the time you arrive Soap is up with a coffee in hand, and at the bar counter of the kitchen. You close the door behind you and set the food on the counter, before sitting next to Soap at the bar. You take out your own container with your breakfast inside, and start eating while Soap gets his. You notice three containers remain. Ghost retrieved his and Gaz emerges from the hall way. Soap is wearing the same clothes as last night, while Gaz just changed his shirt.

“Last one for the cat?” You ask, through mouthful of food.

“Still feeding it?” Soap chimes in, while Ghost rolls his eyes.

“He’ll be here soon.” Gaz says.

“It’s a girl.” You say, thinking you’re still discussing the cat. Only when the door to the unit open do you realize what Gaz meant. Price walks in wearing a long coat. You notice he seems rushed as he takes his jacket off, and makes his way to the kitchen. He gives a quick and curt morning, before getting his breakfast. He too seems to be wearing similar clothes from yesterday. Off white shirt and faded pants.

Ghost is staring, his container hardly touched. He’s watching Price as he looks up and back at him. Price’s eyes look to you, and you look away to take out your phone. You look back to see a silent conversation happening between the two bosses.

Price keeps moving his eyes to the floor while Ghost’s body language goes tense. Ghost clenches a fist, body now facing more to Price and away from you. Ghost shakes his head before pouring a cup of coffee for Price.

“What’s wrong?” You finally ask. Gaz hops up on to the other side of the counter you and Soap are seated at. Price sips the dark coffee sighing, and looking at you.

“Before I answer, I need to know how much you understand about your father.” He says. Before the case you would have said you understood everything. Now though… you weren’t as sure as before.

“I know he did things for good reasons. Trusted you guys.” Not much else you could say.

“Do you trust us?” Price asks, folding his arms and leaning against the counter behind him, staring at you. There was still so much they hadn’t told you. It would take time for you to get the answers that made sense. For now, you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Yes.” You say. There’s a hint of uncertainty in your voice but Price wasn’t about to be picky.

“…Makarov is back in town, and he’s got his old position.” Price says. Everyone freezes in place going dead silent. You’re confused. You didn’t know who Makarov was. The name felt familiar though. Maybe something you heard in passing.

“Unfucking believable.” Soap says.

“News report was last night.” Price confirms.

“Who’s Makarov?” You ask a little nervous now.

“Mafia, has his dirty lil’ fingers everywhere.” Johnny says.

“And he’s the former police commissioner.” Ghost adds. You fidget in your seat. More questions but those could be addressed later.

“What about Milena and Nolan?” Gaz asks. Great more names you were in the dark about. Well, Milena’s you’ve heard before, she’s a businesswoman and socialite. There has been some small rumours about her and her late partners, but no one seemed to pay it any mind.

“More than likely.” Price said. “Alex, Farah and the Los Vaqueros have been made aware and to lay low for now. Don’t need Nolan getting set on anyone until we know what’s going on.”

“What does he look like?” You ask. When you get a loose description you unlock your phone and show Johnny the man you saw at the diner.

“Steamin Jesus…” he says, while Kyle leans back getting a look at the photo. You hold it up to Simon and John. John straightens and comes over to take your phone and get a better look.

“How long ago was this?” He asks.

“Maybe an hour or two by now. Took a longer way to get back just in case. He kept staring at me.” You explain.

“You see him again, you tell us but don’t go near him if you can.” Price orders. You nod and he looks at his everyone in the room. “Right here’s the deal. Makarov is back and he’s gonna have something planned, underground shit and we need to keep our eyes open so nothing goes unnoticed. We need to expose anything and everything he does or is connected to, I don’t care how hare-brained.”

“Yes sir.” Was said by everyone including you. You swore you saw the corner of Price’s mouth turn up for a moment to a smile. Loyalty. If there’s one thing Price had it was that.

Then your phone buzzes in Price’s hand. He notices the name but makes no comment as he hands it back to you. You check the name, and excuse yourself, getting you boots on and stepping outside.

You answer it just before it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? We need to talk.” You hear Graves on the other end. He sounds tired, and nervous.

“Yeah what is it?” You answer, trying to keep your hesitation out of your voice.

“I mean in person. Are you able to meet with me, or have you skipped town?”

“No no… I’m just uh… sorry was just eating breakfast. What’s wrong?”

There’s a long pause in the other end. For a moment you wonder if the signal is lost. Then you hear a sigh.

“Y/N… there’s a lot I’ve got to tell you. In person. When can you meet?” He asks.

“Couple hours maybe?” You say uneasy.

“I’ll send you my location. Come alone.” He instructs before hanging up. You pop your head back into the apartment. Everyone looks at you from the kitchen.

“Can someone give me a ride?”

Rudolfo helped Alejandro back into their hide out, both of them exhausted and bloodied. They expected some resistance during their shipment raid but not that high.

Rudolfo gets Alejandro into a chair before making his way carefully and slowly to the first aid kit.

“You broken Hermano?” Alejandro asks. Rudolfo almost chuckles. Man was nearly on a his death bed, and asking him if he was okay.

“More intact than you.” Rudolfo says, focusing on the injuries. Alejandro, still running on adrenaline gives a large grin, chuckling painfully. His mind was racing and clouded at the same time. The shipment was a big one but holy hell, the amount of security, and their weapons… he’d seen swat teams less armed.

Rudolfo helps him get his jacket off, to a bloodied white tank top underneath. Rudolfo assesses the damage before getting up and going to the bridge, giving Alejandro a strong bottle of liquor. Full the pain now. He winced himself feeling a couple of casings in his arm. Alejandro had taken the brunt of it though.

“You think that little cop told them?” Alejandro wonders aloud.

“Not likely. They haven’t talked to us. Unless Soap has told them something.” Rudolfo says, starting to tend to the bullet wounds.

“Or we have yet to be told something.” Alejandro speculates.

Kyle gives you a ride to the address you’re given, parking some distance away. He’s insistent on coming with you but you’re firm. No one comes with you.

You meet Graves by a river, with small boulders along the edge. Near the shore of the river you see Graves pacing. Thinking back there was never a time you could recall of Graves sitting still. He’s wearing casual clothes, along with a coat and leather gloves. Looks nervous too. Slowly you make your way down to him. As you get closer, he looks up hearing you approach. You don’t look up at him until you reach the shore focused more on your footing.

Then he hugs you. It’s a protective one, a relieved one like you just came out of the hospital. You squirm out of it, feeling annoyed. He was giving you shit not that long ago, and now he was acting all protective? Yeah no, he didn’t get to do that without talking.

“You okay? You’re safe?” He asks. You nod.

“What do you want?” You ask him, wanting to get this over with. Graves shifts a little looking around.

“How much time you got?” He asks.

“If this is some bull shit to get me beat up again-“

“That wasn’t supposed to happen!” He says.

“Wasn’t suppose-the hell does that mean?!” You demand.

“Y/N, a lot has happened and a shit ton is about to happen, so can you please just-”

“No.”

“What?!”

“No, you need to tell me what the hell is going on and what has been going on! I was nearly beaten to death by a bunch of blues, and out of nowhere you want to meet in private. Tell me what the fuck is going on!” You tell him. You’re done. You want answers and Graves clearly had some. He looks down at his feet. Wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or proud of your backbone.

“I asked some of my buddies down at the precinct to check in on you, that was it, and only it.” He says, firmly. You cross your arms. “When you told me about them attacking you, I was pissed off.”

“You knew about dad and the 141?” It was hardly a question. Graves solemnly nods.

“Why the fuck was I put on this case then?!” You ask. “I was going to find out.”

“…because I hoped you would be the key to bringing your dad back.” Graves admits.

“What…?”

“Your father opened up cases we couldn’t get access to because of warrants and policies and laws. If it weren’t for your father there are cases we would never have looked into. We needed that again. The 141 don’t trust me, but they would trust you. When you told me you wanted off the case, I realized I screwed up, you weren’t ready. I was worried about you still, but didn’t want to risk tipping off the gangs that we knew each other.” He explains.

“…you were using my dad’s name basically.” You said not wanting to show any empathy. “So what changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“…your father’s killer is the new chief commissioner.” He puts bluntly.

It’s like a big rock was thrown at your chest. You knew Makarov was back…you didn’t know he killed your father. Graves kept that from you. Makarov was mafia, maybe he was paid. Did the 141 know? This was almost too much and you felt yourself running out of air, the world spinning around you. Suddenly Graves is holding you up by your shoulders leading you to a rock to sit on.

Graves helps you through your sudden attack, helping you breath and keeping you from passing out. Naming your surroundings by your senses while you fight the memories. You weren’t there when he died. Graves came to you one night while you were home alone. You greeted him at the door with hug around his waist. Usually he would gently peel you off of him, but on this night he got on his knees and hugged you when you came over to him. When you asked him where your father was, he nearly broke down himself. You remembered him hugging you and picking you up to take up to bed, and asking the same question.

“You doing better…” he asks finally. You take deep breath and nod your head.

“I promised your father I would look out for you… encouraging you to be a cop meant you would stay under Makarov’s radar and no one would go after you. Makarov left I thought that would be the end, but it wasn’t, he’s back now, and I have to keep you safe, do you understand.”

“No.”

“Y/N-“

“I’m not running away… I’m not going to be a cop either. You can’t keep me out of it anymore. I’m a fucking adult, I’m not a child.”

“I made a promis-“

“I’m in this now! I’m not running from it!” You yell at him. Graves sighs, frustrated.

“…where are you staying?” He asks.

“None of your business.” You say crossing your arms. Graves is starting to get fed up with your attitude. He almost chuckles, giving you a smile.

“You’re right it’s not.” He confesses. “Do me a favour then. Adult to adult.”

“Sure.” You shrug.

“Stay safe. Now I don’t need to know what you’re doing, in fact the less I know the better. Keep me semi-posted. Made a promise to keep you safe to your dad before he passed. I can’t stop you from being your own person. Should have known that day one of meeting you, but be careful. Makarov has his hands in a lot of places, and I’ll be on a leash. If I try leaving who knows what will happen. Can at least try to keep the others in check.”

“Got it.” You say. There’s silence with only the rushing water to fill it. He sits down next to you on the rock, thinking of how to change the subject.

“Saw the mural you made on Soap’s Turf.” He says, over the rushing water. “Shit you are talented with a spray can. Should never have told you to change, could’ve made a good life for yourself.”

“I have one now.” You tell him. “One with good friends.”

“You need any of your stuff out of the apartment? Dropped off or anything?” He offers.

“Could probably go pick it up now, before I head back.” You say.

“It’s my day off.” He mentions. “If you really want we can get something to eat, give you one day of normalcy before shit hits the fan. Show me the other murals.”

“I have one I still need to make… got interrupted the last time, think I owe them one.” You exclaim.

“Think you could do it tomorrow?” He asks.

“I should start it today… but I could eat first.” You know Graves is going through it to, whether it’s his own fault or not. Graves while not the best father figure, was there for you. He was there for your dad. In the end he was still the one who stood up for you in precinct. You wanted to give him some normality before you both parted ways.

“Let the gang know we may be a bit. Otherwise I think Gaz will be sitting and waiting in that car for some time.” Graves says standing up. You watch him slowly climb the boulders back to the top where the road was. You follow after him after texting Gaz you would be going with Graves for a bit.

Graves is nice enough to drop you off at your apartment and let you grab a couple things, including your art supplies. Then he takes you to a specific location.

There you get to work on the mural you had offered the Los Voqueros. Bridges need to be remade and rebuilt. They may not be the most sturdy, but it was simply a matter of creating more support.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y_l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies

#john soap mactavish #cod au #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #gn reader #phillip graves #cod gangster au #gangster au #it’s back #been working hard #thank you for enjoying my stuff

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cottonlemonade · 12 hours

Text

I Missed You

word count: 1350 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip husband!Iwaizumi x chubby!Reader

genre: soft smut

warnings: spoilers, mdni, nsfw, a bit of swearing

synopsis: your husband was away for a couple of days and barely makes it through the door

______________________________________

The rain and wind pushed against the window of your bedroom that overlooked the city.

It was almost midnight and your husband, who had been overseeing a training camp for the national team the past couple of days, had messaged you earlier that he was on his way back. You sighed as you turned over in bed and gazed longingly at the empty space next to you. Anticipation formed a knot in your stomach and left you restless.

You decided to settle in the living room to wait for him.

For a while you just stood by the window, looking through the curtains of rain outside, trying to make out any kind of figure possibly entering the building, but all you could see were swimming lights in the distance.

You didn't know how long you stared absentmindedly into the night when you heard keys clinking quietly and the click of the front door lock. Excitement bubbling in your chest, you made your way to the corridor to see Hajime drenched from head to foot, standing in the barely illuminated entryway trying his hardest to be quiet as he set down his training bag and a bouquet of flowers that looked rather worse for the wear due to the storm. He shook off his jacket and turned when he heard your steps.

“Shit, I didn't wake ya, did I?“, he said wearily.

“No no, I waited up. I missed you.”

His look softened. “I missed you too, gorgeous.”

You walked up to him and he pulled you into a hug, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and breathing you in while gently swaying from side to side. When he straightened, arms still wrapped around you, you stood on tiptoes to give him a long overdue kiss. Even though it had barely been more than a week you had missed the feeling of his lips and the roaming of his hands, as he pulled you closer once more, one arm firmly around your plump waist, the other gently cradling the back of your head.

He gave a satisfied hum as you deepened the kiss. You both were dead tired from the day but too starved for each other's touches to think much about small talk. Hajime backed you against the wall of your home’s narrow corridor, letting his lips stray from yours down your neck. Almost as if on accident one of his legs made its way between yours, pushing your nightgown up enough to expose your plush thighs. With one hand now on your ass, the other holding your chin, he pushed a little harder against your core, making you gasp and grab at his wet hair.

“I missed you.” he repeated in a whisper against your neck, giving you a playful bite.

He kissed your lips again, using both hands to lift you up with a hungry groan, wrapping your legs around his waist. Like many times before he carried you like this to your bedroom.

Looking deeply into your eyes he carefully laid you down on the rustling sheets, watching as you crawled further up to the headpiece. Hajime bit his lips at the glimpse of your bare thighs and just the thought of being able to mark them again.

He took off his shirt and smirked when you pulled him to you by the belt loops of his jeans.

The rain had now resorted to a lazy tapping at the window and your husband stopped for a second to admire your face in the dim light of the bedside lamp, before kissing you again. However, you had other plans and he grinned at the familiar, much adored twinkle in your eyes.

“Let me take care of you, baby. You must be exhausted.”

He rolled over onto his back and sighed gratefully as you kissed your way down, over his jaw, his neck and his sweet spot at his chest that had him groaning again.

Finally, after taking a painfully long time, you started to unbuckle his belt and undid his zipper. With no insignificant amount of difficulties you managed to peel the drenched jeans off him, almost falling from the bed in the process, making you both laugh. He missed you so goddamn much. To get back in the mood you ran your fingers along his happy trail.

You looked up at him, finding it adorable how he still had to swallow at your suggestive touches and how his chest betrayed his shallow breathing. Taking your sweet sweet time you got comfortable between his legs, your fingers now softly grazing the fabric of his boxers, delighted at the feeling of him against your palm.

He shifted a little, a sure sign that it got more and more difficult for him to not just flip you over. You gave him your best innocent smile as you weighed his warm, hard cock in your hands.

With a light flop the boxers landed on the floor next to the bed.

Making sure his eyes were completely focused on you, you lazily dragged the tip of your tongue over his entire length.

He grabbed a fistful of sheets, inhaling sharply. You smiled again as you let your tongue swirl over his tip and he closed his eyes in pleasure, actually letting out a small whimper when you pressed your soft lips against him.

“Is everything okay, honey?”, you asked in a sinfully sweet voice, “Am I doing something wrong?”

“You really are the devil, aren't ya?”, his voice sounded raspier than usual.

“I don't know, am I?”, you took him halfway into your mouth, pressing your tongue against him, sucking luxuriously.

“Fuck, gorgeous. You’re doing so well.”, he sighed quietly, lovingly stroking your hair.

You chuckled around him, sending those divine vibrations through his body and his other hand pulled the sheet harder.

With hollowed cheeks you took him as deep as you could, making sure to swallow around him, once, twice.

Before regaining his composure, he let out a few deep moans, trying so hard not to push your head down further. For a minute or two all he did was admire you, using every last ounce of self control to not cum immediately when your tongue played with the vein at the base of his cock. Your cute look every time you tried to take him deeper and your perfect mouth tightly around him sent him to heaven and hell all at once.

“That's enough.”, he said, attempting to steady his voice and untangle his thoughts.

You moved up to be on his eye level, looking down at him with freshly plumped lips.

He rolled you over, pushing up your nightgown and raised an appreciative brow at the black lace panties underneath. They were his favorite. Hajime slid his hand between your legs, rubbing circles on your clothed clit and savoring the feeling of your wetness soaking the fabric and his fingertips.

Not long after, your panties joined his boxers on the floor and he kissed your neck again, pulling down the thin little straps of your nightgown to take your nipples into his mouth. Kissing and sucking softly, while making sure one hand was still teasing between your legs and the other massaged your breasts.

Your moans were music to his ears and he increased the pressure on you sweet little pussy to draw more exquisite sounds from you.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”, he muttered, kissing your soft tummy.

“I need you inside me…”

After a look of him you hastily added, “Please.”

Your husband smiled against your skin and a few moments later pushed into you. He would fuck you later. Right now he needed to take you slow and deep - needed to feel you clenching around him. His hot breath pressing against your neck, he entwined his finger with yours, while planting butterfly kisses on your collarbone and shoulder, cheek and lips.

It did not take long to push you both over the edge and you felt spurts of cum filling you up.

He rolled you over again, still inside you, so your head could lay on his chest and hugged you close. After a few blissful moments you drew random patterns on his skin, listening to the rain and his steady heartbeat.

“I missed you.”

________________________________

#iwaizumi x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #iwazumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu smut #chubby reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x chubby reader

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befuddled-calico-whump · 2 days

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WAIT continuing the caretaking thought. putting ander with jer or benji!!! maybe through some anon magic they rescue him from vic‘s training……

How could he look so small?

Well, Sahota was usually small, at least in comparison to Jericho, but he carried himself with an air of power and confidence that had the crew looking past his lean frame.

This Sahota didn't have any of that. He was younger, somehow, so much younger. His hair was longer and his face was softer and his expression was full of fear, but it was unmistakeably him. Same eyes. Same scar running from top to bottom lip, though it looked fresher here.

It seemed impossible. Jer had just seen Sahota that morning at breakfast, where he'd instructed the crew to self-train for the rest of the day.

"Vic and I will be out. Don't make any trouble."

But impossible or not, the terrified kid in front of him was very much real. He was partially hidden by a weight rack, his back flush with the wall as he stared up at Jericho, almost like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Jer couldn't blame him. Whether he was here through dimension magic, or time travel, or whatever, that didn't matter right now. He'd been somehow displaced, and didn't seem to know what to do about it. He knelt on the ground, holding up both hands.

"Hey..." he called out softly. "Are you alright? Can you come out?"

Sahota didn't move. Jericho inched forwards, and the kid flinched back.

"I... Please. I'm tired. I... I can't do this again. Please, j-just stay back."

Again? Jericho nodded, scooting back to where he'd started.

"Okay," he said, swallowing. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on. Do you remember how you got here?"

Sahota shook his head. Okay, that made two of them.

"Are you hurt at all?"

That didn't get an answer. The kid dropped his gaze, shoulders bunching up defensively.

"Who are you?" he said after a moment. "Why are you here?"

"My name's Jericho. I'm here to train for a mission." With you. Older you. He left that part out. One thing at a time. "Do you live here?"

"Yeah." There was another silence between them. "Did... Did Shepard bring you here?"

Shepard. Wasn't that Vic's last name? "Uh, yeah. He did."

That did not have the intended effect. Sahota seemed to shrink back further, eyes darting around like he was searching for an escape. "Please," he choked out. "H-he said I could have a break, he said---"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm not doing anything. I won't even move if you don't want me to, I..." he exhaled. "I'm here to help. I don't know what's going on, but I want to help you. Okay?"

He wasn't sure he'd get an answer, but after a long pause, he heard a small okay.

Whew. Now what? What could he even do about this? He didn't have the power to send him back to wherever he came from. And why was he so afraid? He already knew Vic, he already seemed to live here. The only new factor was Jericho, and the kid was acting like he was a trap ready to be sprung. And the fact that he'd dodged the question about being hurt...

"Hey. Do you mind coming out here? I won't touch you or anything, I just want to make sure you're not injured."

He was once again met with a long silence, but after a moment, Sahota began to crawl out from behind the weight rack. Almost right away, Jericho's gaze landed on the bruise on his jaw, then trailed just below that, to the faint purples that ringed his throat.

More than just the visible wounds, he moved like he was in pain. Stiff and stilted and slow.

"What happened?" he murmured. He'd seen his Sahota banged up before, but it was so much more jarring to see it on this younger version.

The kid froze, wincing as he lowered himself into a seated position. "There... there was a break in."

Maybe that was why he was so jumpy. It made sense, especially if it was recent enough that he was still sporting injuries from it.

"Well, I can promise you I didn't break in," Jericho said lightly. "Vic... uh, Shepard invited me for my computer skills."

Sahota nodded, uncertainty on his face. "And you're not here for me at all?"

Back to that. What did it mean? Something in the way he said it was concerning, but instead of questioning it, Jer only shook his head. "I'm not. I didn't even know you'd be here."

He seemed to relax a little at that. "Okay."

One step in the right direction. Jer held out a hand, careful not to move too quickly.

"Want help getting somewhere comfier? Looks like you need some rest."

Sahota stared at his open palm. He didn't move to take it.

"We can stay here too, if you'd rather," Jericho offered. It wasn't a permanent solution. They couldn't stay in the gym forever, and this Sahota would eventually have to be introduced to the idea that he'd been displaced, either temporally or dimensionally. But... baby steps.

"If I come with you... what happens?"

Well, hopefully you take a nap. Maybe get an ice pack for those bruises. But Jer only shrugged. "I can probably make you some hot chocolate? Not sure if Vi-Shepard has all the ingredients, but I'll figure something out."

Tentatively, Sahota placed his hand in Jericho's. "Okay."

Whew. Another step. He stood slowly, letting Sahota put as much weight as he needed to on Jericho as he got to his feet.

"You can lean on me if you need to." He'd almost prefer to carry him, but he didn't want to overwhelm the kid. Sahota gave a short nod, but stayed an arm's length away, one hand wrapped around the crook of Jericho's elbow.

From here, they could head to the kitchen, and Jer would find a way to break the news about the whole time thing. And tell the rest of the team. And figure out how to tell Vic and Sahota that the latter's younger self had decided to swing by.

He had time to work all those out. For now, he had some hot chocolate to make.

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight

#me trying to find a balance between 'thisbwas unexpected' and care #yes there actually was a break in it wasn't Vic this time #if Sahota wasn't hurt he probably would've run away #but as it is he's cautiously complying because what else can he do but take jericho at his word?#t$$ time travel #anon #t$$ sahota #i had to wrap it up or wlse this would be like 5k plus lol

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stave-writes · 5 hours

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Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

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lakesparkles · 3 days

Text

I finished the first chapter of my Gideon and Ramona fanfiction :D

I'll post it somewhere else someday, but so far I can share it here.

(reminder that this is NOT a ship fic. I just want to explore their relationship and project on Ramona tbh)

Ramona and Gideon - I

She decides to leave one last time

Ramona remembers the seven reasons that made her fall in love with Gideon

—

She had that same fantasy every day. As she walked down the halls, running her fingers along the wall, she imagined herself entering her own room. It was satisfying, somehow. She could perfectly see herself opening her wardrobe, taking out the few things that really interested her, putting everything in her bag and simply walking away.

In that fantasy, of course, she always smiled. She even laughed. That kind of hysterical and cathartic laughter only present in films. She wanted to imagine how Gideon would react: how long would it be before he realized she wasn't there anymore? Two weeks? And when would he realize that this wasn't just another one of her "famous tantrums"? Two months? Two years?

Part of her was almost excited at the prospect of making him furious with such an accomplishment. It would be his turn to take endless turns through the halls, finally using his brain trying to understand what had gone so wrong between them. Maybe he would find out years later. Or perhaps that doubt would eat away at him for decades to come, the bitterness of her image never leaving his mind.

And part of her... thought that wasn't realistic. She knew Gideon well enough to know that he would never even consider any mistake on his part, with a mixture of confusion that never ended well when it came to him.

Or worse.

He wouldn't even care about her lack of presence in that house.

Therefore, Ramona released her fingers from the wall, slowing down her steps until she stopped altogether.

Then the fantasy ended. Every single time.

☆

7 MONTHS BEFORE

"Ramona Flowers," he repeated once again, with his head bowed. At that point, she figured he just wanted to test how the name sounded on his own vocal cords. "Ramona...Flowers."

"Did you like it, huh?" Ramona took a sip of her own drink, even though she already considered herself drunk enough. Maybe he was too, now that she thought about it.

"Sounds a little familiar."

"Strange," she shrugged, not caring. "And you are?"

Now he raised his head once more, looking her in the eyes. Ramona found it strange the way he raised one of his eyebrows, as if he had just heard a terrible insult.

"Did I say something wrong?" Alcohol always made her put all her thoughts out, without thinking much. She slowly realized that it hadn't been a good idea to start talking to that guy in a situation like that.

He laughed, however:

"You are intriguing, Ramona. And my name is Gideon Graves, to answer your question!"

He - Gideon? Weird name - had said such a thing with so much pride that she began to suspect there was something she wasn't understanding. She became even more certain of that once she noticed his gaze still fixed on her face, waiting for a response - perhaps an acknowledgment. Strange, huh.

To escape her own discomfort, she looked ahead, watching as everyone calmly walked around the party room. It was an average place, so there were too many people everywhere: one of the reasons she felt so uncomfortable. Parties stopped interesting her when she left college. Now she had no idea what to do there other than walk around with her glass of wine. And walk more. And pretend to be interested in the topic that another weird guy in a suit, who held her arm, was talking about. And walk.

"What brought a girl like you here?" Gideon cut the awkward silence, catching Ramona's attention again.

What was he implying with that? That she looked poor? Messed up? Or was it her hair?

"I was challenged for 20 dollars that I wouldn't be able to crash this party."

"Seriously," he laughed lightly, now being his turn to sip his glass. "What was the reason?"

"It's a looooong story."

"Don't tell me!"

"You wouldn't have that much time to listen to me."

"It seems that you don't know me very well" he implied, good-naturedly.

Ramona turned her head to the side until realize Gideon kept his eyes fixated on her face. He always had a blank expression, difficult to read. She took the opportunity to analyze him more closely, trying to decide if he was ugly or not. His dark hair was longer on one side, in a kind of fringe that must've been popular about 10 years ago. What caught the most attention, clearly, were his thick glasses that he occasionally used his index finger to place back on the bridge of his nose. However, she also couldn't help but notice his white coat, much more informal than she expected for an occasion like that.

Normally, Ramona was good - great even! - knowing a lot about someone just by her first impression and how the other person acted. But that guy? He was different, he just seemed like a weirdo who apparently was interested in her.

She had watched him for a few minutes before he approached. Gideon was talking calmly to a large group of people, making no effort to become the center of attention. He had something in him, that was for sure. A kind of confidence mixed with how unusual the way he gestured with his hands was.

She was so caught up in her own mental notes that she didn't even notice Gideon's next move until it had already happened. Still with a smile stuck on his face, he held her arm tightly, pulling her away from the wall and making her follow him.

"What the hell, dude!?" Ramona practically screamed, looking around in confusion.

"Let's get out of this stupid party, I can't take it anymore!"

Indifferently, Ramona let herself be guided wherever the other wanted. She didn't care anymore. About that party and about everything else. Not when everything had already gone catastrophically wrong. She was too drunk to think about that anyway.

The two of them sneaked among all those people, occasionally apologizing for stepping on someone's foot. When they paused for Gideon to exchange their glasses for two full ones, Ramona realized that she was having more fun in that moment than in any other second since she entered that tight space.

This time, she didn't even need Gideon's grip to willingly follow in his footsteps, laughing along with him every time they had to take a giant turn just because there were so many people.

"I know a place~" Gideon hummed when they arrived in one of the corners of the room. Without making much effort, he lightly opened one of the large doors, waiting for her to pass before closing it behind them"

They came face to face with a long circular staircase - not the most pleasant sight at the moment. She felt sick just looking up:

"Can we be here?"

"Yeah, Jonah doesn't care! Do you know Jonah? The owner of this buiding."

"Obviously not, man!"

"He's a friend of mine... For a long time. Anyway, keep following me!"

And so Ramona did, having the next minutes extremely complicated. She almost tripped on some steps, needing to lean on the handrail as if her life depended on it. Gideon himself didn't seem so good either, his feet unsteady even as he continued to take large gulps of wine. Anyone who looked at them at that moment would think they were idiots, and that thought amused Ramona.

Fortunately, the stairs ended after some time - how much had they gone up? Four floors? - Gideon opened another door, smiling at her as he waited for a reaction.

"Wow," she murmured, somewhat ironically, looking up. Until that moment, she hadn't even realized that they'd gone to the roof of that building. The sky above them was almost completely dark, the stars being overshadowed by all the other lights coming from the buildings.

"Much better than down there, don't you think?" Gideon boasted of himself, taking slow steps to the edge of the slab, leaning there to better observe the entire view.

"Funny. For the way you got along with everyone, I thought you were enjoying it."

"Not even close to that. The good thing about Jonah's parties is that you soon know everyone there, at least by sight. The bad part is that it gets repetitive after the third party."

"I'm already thinking it the first time. Who is Jonah?"

"Huh, he's..." Then he interrupted himself. "You're really not from here."

"What do you think?" Ramona went to his side, resting her glass on the slab and exhaling through her mouth in a kind of 'pfff'. "Do I happen to look like the type of person who comes to New York with a completely fanciful idea coming from $1,99 novels, only to find out that it's not all that and that she's not even good enough to be a pizza delivery girl?

"From the way you're saying it, I believe so."

"That is not what happened!!" She got angry, being grumpy again.

"Alright."

With a sigh, she leaned her body weight - up to her chin - on the wall:

"I'm not here to stay" finally something sincere came out of her mouth. "I just need some money to get to Vermont."

"It's far away, y'know?" Gideon spoke very quietly, his gaze fixed on the sky. She could've sworn he looked a little disappointed, which interested her. "Is there anything you need to do there?"

'No, I just want to know how it is. Just like here."

"And what are your thoughts about New York so far?"

"Overestimated."

"I knew you'd say that!" He shook his head, pretending to be irritated. "And something also told me that you were exactly the type of person who liked to hang around."

"The thing you said about my eyes, right?"

"They're beautiful."

"Did you know that your flirting gets worse every time you drink more?"

Gideon let out a sudden laugh. If he was offended, he didn't show it. At most, he finished all the remaining liquid in the glass in one gulp, teasing her.

"And why are you right here, in the party?" He continued.

"Is this an interrogation?"

"I'm just curious about someone as fascinating as you!"

"Silly," she rolled her eyes, not falling for that. "It was because of a friend. No, not a friend. A guy I met."

"A boyfriend?"

"What? No! It's the guy from the coffee shop across the street, I think he knows Jonah or something. His name is Jay, we talk when I go there. Do you know? That coffee shop over there, look!" She pointed with her index finger to the dark spot on the street below.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Anyways! Jay ended up becoming my roommate. It's in a tiny studio apartment, but he can pay for it with his cafeteria salary and I can with the money I saved from Pennsylvania."

"Mhmm!"

"Shitty, I know! But I'm getting out of here. Soon."

"Are you sure you don't have any plans?"

This time, Ramona was silent, watching the cars pass by below. That part not even alcohol would let go so soon.

"And you, Gideon? Are you from here?"

"Me? I'm not. I came from North Bay.'

"Serious? You don't look Canadian."

"What does looking Canadian mean to you?"

"Someone who isn't you."

"Did you know that you make less and less sense the more you drink?" He countered, raising both eyebrows.

She ignored him, then he spoke again a few seconds later:

"Do you see that building over there? The one near the red sign."

Ramona followed with her gaze where he was pointing:

"Man Media?" She read with her eyes almost closed, barely seeing.

"G-Man Media! G! The triangle is a G!"

"Ah, now I see it."

"So, I live there!"

"Live?"

"It's my company building, actually. But I arranged one of the floors to be my apartment."

"Company?"

She was still looking closely there, almost getting scared when she felt Gideon's hand on her shoulder.

"Ramona, are you okay? Of course you're not!"

She responded with a nod, cursing herself for making it so apparent that she had drunk more than she was used to. What a great first impression. She tried to stand and turn to him, to prove a point, but she remembered little after that.

It was as if her mind had stopped working from one moment to the next. I mean, she was conscious as best she could. Wasn’t she?

The problem was remembering that the next day.

She lifted her head for the expected pain, her mouth dry as a desert upon waking up. Even though she couldn't see very well, she realized she was in a bed. How? She barely had time to despair before she looked everywhere, analyzing the light coming through the window and realizing she was alone in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't her apartment with Jay, that was for sure. That room alone should've been bigger than the entire place.

The last thing she remembered from the last night was being in a car. Gideon spoke to her, a little impatiently. He asked where she lived, she thinks.

Well, there was no sign of Gideon at that moment, which made her feel a little calmer. She also seemed fine, if she ignored her hangover.

It'd just been... Weird.

It took her about half an hour, rooting and snooping in every corner of the room, until she noticed the most obvious thing of all: the sheet of paper and the envelope on top of the cabinet.

She sat at the foot of the bed, reading what was written there:

"Dear Ramona Flowers,

The room´s already been paid for overnight, don't need to worry! If you want to see me again, you know where to find me. If not, I wish you the best of luck in Vermont!

-GGG"

Half curious, half laughing at the stupid name, she opened the envelope to find enough money for five trips.

☆

She didn't know why her brain reminded her of that specific moment. Ramona raised the corner of her mouth, coming back to reality and running her fingers along the walls of the hallway towards her room.

Now the fantasy was completely over. Instead, she imagined a fictional life in Vermont, accompanied by someone poorer and less complicated. It looked good, if she ignored the lack of detail because she had obviously never set foot there.

God, what an idiot she was!

Even without having a specific direction, she continued walking there. It’s what she does when she is so bored in such a big building. It was even funny. She'd lived there for months, but she was pretty sure she'd never explored all the rooms and floors.

She was near her room when someone suddenly came out of one of the open doors, colliding painfully into her.

"Ow. Sorry" she automatically apologized, expecting to be one of the tower's employees.

"Ramona," the other person's voice said. In that typical and curious way.

"Gideon," she said back, her head down. "I thought you were working all day today?"

"Nope, only in the morning" he finished straightening his suit that had crumpled during the impact. "I was looking for you, actually."

Ramona raised her head, certainly not anticipating this turn of the conversation. So much so that she was speechless for a second, giving Gideon the chance to continue:

"Do you want to go out for lunch? You can choose the place this time."

His tone... It seemed normal. Different from usual, which made her suspicious:

"I prefer to stay at home today, my head hurts. I was going to my room," and then she started to feel guilty. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Only if it's Sherlock Holmes!"

"Nothing like that! You said I choose and it will be The Butterfly Effect!"

Gideon smiled as he nodded, putting his arm around her neck - that had to be uncomfortable, considering how many inches taller she was than him -, and walking beside her to her room.

Then they spent the next few minutes together, without anything too special. Besides, of course, being in each other's presence in general. It seemed like the longer their relationship lasted, the less they saw each other. And that only made her feel strange about the current situation. It seemed so normal that something had to be out of place.

The film played in front of the two, who lay on her big bed. Gideon had a straight body, with his legs crossed and his arms the same way. Ramona kind of touched him and kind of didn't. Gideon seemed interested in the film, laughing and making occasional comments. Ramona pretended to pay attention when answering him.

What was so wrong? There had to be something wrong.

Then Gideon stretched a little, changing position to turn around and wrap his arms around her body. His familiar shape made her dizzy for a moment. This hadn't happened for a long time. Without thinking too much to avoid regret, she snuggled into his hold, feeling warm and... Fine. Almost.

The memory was almost automatic. Her brain refocused on that same day, months ago:

What she hadn't told Gideon when they met was how incredibly lost she was feeling because of her own stupidity. After graduating, she decided to leave everything behind, as she realized that she didn't belong there. She might not have any idea where that place would be, but she could certainly look! She took whatever temporary job she could get; she boarded planes and even trusted strangers for rides; she spent months, weeks and days in completely different cities. Searching.

New York before Gideon had been more of the same. Her days were made up of looking at those giant buildings while wondering which point in that immense city was the right one.

Apparently, it was exactly in that room, feeling Gideon's comforting warmth. He looked so relaxed that she couldn't help but laugh at the funny face he made as he tried not to fall asleep. The energy bar above his head said otherwise, being practically zero. Ramona... She was almost fine too. Her eyes took longer to blink each time.

So why did she still feel exactly the same as the time she spent wandering around New York? She was beginning to think that she was incapable of settling down and being content.

An instant before she fell completely asleep, something clicked in her mind. Her eyes suddenly widened.

She finally realized what was so wrong there.

It was about the day she met Gideon. She was absolutely sure that, until now, she remembered perfectly how everything happened when they got down from that slab. Before now, she remembered taking a taxi with him and all the conversations they had inside. And how he took her to a random hotel for the night, saying goodbye briefly by leaving her in the room and writing something while she went, in her drunken state, to bed.

But now... It was as if her mind had gone blank.

#my writing #ramona flowers #gideon graves #scott pilgrim #ramona and gideon au #if you read it i would love to know what you think :D

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aestheticpearl · 1 hour

Text

— 𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐚

✧·˚ it's not fair when things don't go as planned someone ends up getting hurt. xanthus should know that by now and now he must face the consequences.

warnings. blood, gore, torture, body horror, heavy angst

your heart was pounding your ears as you were struggling in audric’s iron grip, trying to free yourself to be with xanthus who was struggling to get to you before he could hurt you. you were terrified, shaking with tears in your eyes, trying to brace yourself for whatever pain was in store for you.

“is this it?! is this your revenge? i told you what happened was a mistake i’m sorry!” xanthus pleaded while still actively struggling.

“what you’ve done cannot be undone lawrence. so, i will do what i must to make you feel my pain. your mistake killed my family, this is my revenge.”

audric’s grip on your wrist tightens and you fear he’ll break it. you look to xanthus, try to find some sort of reassurance that you’ll be okay, but you can’t see any evidence of emotions that would bring you the comfort.

“your quarrel is with me, not them! please audric, they’re all i have.”

“my family was all i had.” audric says coldly before biting his wrist to draw blood.

he takes enough time to let xanthus process what his next move is going to be and watches as xanthus’ face drops at the realization.

“no! don’t do this! love don’t drink it!”

before you realize what, he’s talking about audric’s wrist is pressed against your mouth, unintentionally tasting the bitter blood. after audric knows you’ve had a taste he throws you to the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of you and you hear the sickening crack of your skull on the cement floor.

“love! please! love look at me!” xanthus’ voice is muffled and there’s a ringing your head.

you touch your head to find blood seeping from it. you’re too scared to look for the source of it on your head, you’ve always been squeamish with injuries.

“first dose.” audric states before grabbing you by your hair, you scream in pain. “don’t worry, i won’t kill you yet, i want you to suffer.”

“stop it! you’re hurting them!” xanthus’ pleads fall on deaf ears as audric drags you out of the room while you scream in pain.

the heavy door slams shut and xanthus can hear the automatic lock click, now muffling your cries of pain. he slams his fist against the wall of his cell and holds back tears of frustration. he can feel the pain you’re in and it’s excruciating, if it’s bad for him he knows it’s even worse for you.

“xanthus?”

“i’m fine dontis, i just need to get out of this cell.”

“how are we going to do that?”

“i have an idea.”

your weak body hits the cold ground in a dark room, and you don’t have the strength to move your body to face audric’s large figure, but you watch his shadow loom over you.

“please don’t do this…” you cry out weakly.

“i hate to lie and say it’s nothing personal, but it very much is.” he gets down on one knee and forces you to drink more of his blood.

the dark substance is spread all over your face and it makes you feel sick that your captors blood heals your wounds. you know better though; you know it only so he can inflict more wounds on you without killing you. he’s using you to torture xanthus because he knows hurting you will hurt him more than anything else.

“second dose.” he whispers under his breath before pulling out a notebook and writing something down and leaving the room, letting the door close and lock behind him. you close your eyes and pray that you don’t wake up in the same hell you’re in currently.

unfortunately for you, you awake in the same hell as before. it’s too dark for you to tell if your eyes are even open and you’re unsure if you’re even awake until the door swings open to reveal audric’s figure along with another unknown person.

“feeding time, love.”

the use of the pet name xanthus gave you makes your stomach turn. you struggle to sit up to face him, your whole-body aches in pain with the torture that you’ve experienced. once you properly look up at the two men standing in the doorway, your blood runs cold at the vampire that is clearly starving that audric is holding back without any effort.

“don’t be scared, the pain you feel is only temporary.”

audric let’s the vampire loose as it jumps onto you and starts attacking you, grabbing any limbs it can and biting down harshly on them. it’s like being stabbed over and over again with a knife, you are unsure if they’re even drinking your blood or just leaving puncture wounds everywhere.

your body heals with each dose of vampiric blood but it’s your mental state that is quickly deteriorating. every sudden movement, every unexpected noise has you on edge and you can’t find peace in the darkness of the room you’re kept in, and you fear for what might be in the room with you. you are only human after all.

once the vampire finishes the pain it inflicts on your body you’re roughly pushed back down to the cold ground. the air is knocked out of you at the sudden force, and you choke out a breath.

“audric, please.” you sound broken. “i want to go home.” tears well in your eyes at the mention of home. you’re beyond scared and the thought of being safe again brings you to tears.

"don't you see? this is your new home, you are never leaving this place; you are never getting out of here..." he lets out a dark chuckle. "...alive at least."

the pain you feel is intense before audric uses his blood to heal you again. the shock that this is doing to your weakened body only makes you feel worse, you start to wonder if you'll ever leave this place, and you hope that this pain you are feeling is only from you and not from the bond. you pray that xanthus isn't as affected by what audric is doing to you. you hope that it isn't affecting him, that he's not letting him win by showing that he can feel the pain.

xanthus is very much affected by the torture that you are being put through, he feels every sharp pain, every spike of anxiety that you experience, it rattles him to his very core. dontis tries his best to help his friend with a form of mediation to help him push through and not give audric the big reactions that he's looking for; breathing exercises are the most helpful and dontis shows his support by breathing through it with him.

a part of him feels guilty for not reacting to your pain. the most he does is flinch at the pain for just a split second before acting as though nothing happened. xanthus tries to count the days by counting each second into each minute into an hour and so on, but eventually he loses count and he has no way to track the time.

time seems to drag on and you do your best to try to fight through the pain that you’re being put through, but your mind feels numb; likes you’ve checked out mentally. this doesn’t go unnoticed by audric and he says it’s time.

“up you go.” audric pulls you up roughly by your arm so harshly that due to your lack of nutrition you know it will bruise badly. “it’s time to see your bond.”

your ears perk up at the mention on seeing xanthus again. you wonder what state he has been left in, hopefully a better one than you.

your weak body is dragged through the empty bare halls that echo the sound of footsteps on the smooth cement floor. a patchy trail of blood follows you due to the open wounds littered around your skin from the last ‘feeding’ session taht audric decided not to heal. the pain from them is numb to you, audric’s control over your mind makes it so, if it wasn’t for what he had already done you would’ve mistaken it for pity but you know better and that he’s only doing it so you don’t fight back.

audric stops at a large bolted shut door and drops the hold on your arm to open it. you hit the ground harder than you mean to, failing to catch yourself. your head hits the cold floor and you hear the familiar sound of cracking and then the warmth of blood dripping down the side of your face.

“bleeding again? gosh you humans are so fragile.” audric spits out while pushing the door open and grabbing your arm to throw you into the room. your rag doll of a body is slammed against a cage that rattles at the force and you swear you can feel your already broken ribs puncture a lung causing you to cough violently and struggle to breathe properly.

“..love?”

xanthus.

his voice nearly makes you burst into tears, it sounds so soft and is filled with concern.

“i must say lawrence, they’re a lot stronger than i thought they would be.” audric pulls you aways from the cage and lifts you to your feet that you can’t stand on without audric holding you up.

your head is pounding and everything is blurry through your eyes, but you try your hardest to focus on xanthus. he’s standing in front of you trying to assess all of the damage that audric has done to you.

“you’re going to be fine love, d-don’t worry. we’ll get you out of here and fix you up.” xanthus’ voice hitches as he looks at the fresh blood on your face.

audric lets out a loud laugh.

“oh lawrence, you always did know how to make me laugh.” he says, readjusting you to be in front of him. “you are never getting out of here.”

you suddenly feel a wave of release wash over you and you realize you can move on your own. the pain shoots through you and grip the bars to stop yourself from falling over. you feel xanthus’ hands cover your own. the small action plus the ridiculous amount of pain your in makes your tears flow freely down your cheeks as you look up to lock eyes with xanthus. his expression scares you even more, he’s mortified at the state your in.

you can’t bare to look at him any longer with that expression painted on his face. your legs fail you and you end up on the ground meekly holding onto the bars still. xanthus quickly gets down to your level trying to see if you’re breathing.

“i-i’m sorry xanthus.” you choke out your words, pushing through the pain just to speak to him. “i’m so scared, i-i tried to be b-brave and i failed.”

“it’s okay love, you’ve been so brave, i’m so proud of you love. you didn’t fail me i promise.” he sounds like he’s pleading with you to stay strong.

“i think it’s time to put them out of their misery, don’t you think lawrence?” audric asks harshly pulling you away from him.

“no! audric let them go!”

audric’s hand grips your hair tightly, making the open wound on your skull bleed more down your face.

“just smell that delicious blood lawrence. you really know how to pick them huh?”

the smell of your blood was driving xanthus insane. he was hungry but it was overshadowed by the anger he felt at the fact you were bleeding and badly hurt.

audric pulls a knife from behind him and traces the sharp blade on your jawline. you can hear xanthus practically growl at the action.

tears roll down your cheeks onto the reflective blade being now held tightly at your throat. you look to xanthus for any kind of comfort and the only thing on his face is panic and soon your blood paints his features as he lets out a horrific scream.

the hurt stops.

then it starts again.

it’s a piercing pain that travels through every nerve in your system and shocks you awake. you’re still in the same room on the floor covered in blood, you see xanthus free from his cage standing over what seems to be a body that you can only assume is audric.

every part of you aches and you sit up from your place on the floor. xanthus sees you move through his peripheral vision and turns to face you.

“i’m sorry.” he apologizes. “i couldn’t save you in time. the bond is broken.”

he looks at you differently, theres no ounce of affection for your in his eyes anymore. you can only see the pain in them and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“xanthus?”

he walks over to you and offers a hand.

“come. let’s find dontis and leave.”

his words are as cold as the hand that you take.

“you’re a vampire now.”

inspired by this post by @belladonnadawn thank you so much for the idea

i think this has been in the works since i saw the post which was like months ago i’m just glad i finally finished it.

(p.s i was thinking of making a part two to this but idk yet so let me know how you feel)

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

#pearl’s ❤︎ works #zsakuva #sakuverse #xanthus angst #zsakuva xanthus claiborne #zsaku xanthus #xanthus claiborne fan fic #xanthus claiborne x love #xanthus x love #xanthus fan fic #xanthus claiborne #zsakuva xanthus #zsakuva audio #zsaku headcanons #zsaku fan fic #zsakuva headcanons #zsakuva fan fic #zsaku

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